David Dobrik helps Aubrey Willow when she needs it the most.
-
-
-
-
-
[OC x David Dobrik]
[DISCLAIMER: this story mentions abuse and contains minimal swearing.]
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I slowly open my eyes to find myself in Sarah's room.
I stretch my arms, yawn, and stand up. I wander downstairs to find David still sleeping.
I smell something coming from the kitchen, so I go investigate.
It's David's mom cooking up a ton of breakfast foods. Cinnamon rolls, different types of eggs, pancakes, bacon, and more.
"Good morning. Sleep well?" She wonders.
"Very well, actually. Anything I can help you with?" I ask.
"Oh, yes! You can be in charge of the pancakes." She demands, flipping a piece of bacon.
"Yes, ma'am." I chuckle, standing next to her at the stove.
Chocolate chip pancakes are my favorite, so I decide to throw in some chocolate chips into a couple of the pancakes.
"Did David ever help you cook when he was younger?" I ask her.
"Sometimes. He loved helping me in the kitchen when he was a little boy. Afterwards, he was always covered in the ingredients." She laughs.
I laugh with her, imagining little David covered in flour.
"Has David ever told you about his childhood nickname?" She asks randomly.
"No, what was it?" I get more curious.
"The kids in his class would call him Justin Bieber because of his hair. He hated it." She explains, adding another laugh at the end.
I giggle, flipping a pancake.
David walks in tiredly as we are laughing together about his old hair cut. He sits down on a stool at the counter as I put all the pancakes on a plate.
"What are you guys laughing at?" He raises an eyebrow suspiciously.
"Nothing, Bieber." I tease, saying the last part quietly.
"Who told you?" He gasps.
I point to his mom, laughing at his reaction.
He glares at her, and then me. My eyes go wide as I see him put his hand in the flour bag.
Before I get the chance to run, I am splattered with flour.
I gasp slightly, looking down at my black pajama shirt that has been cover with white flour.
"David! Why would you do that to our guest?" His mom yells, noticing my shirt.
"It was a joke." He defends himself.
"Go clean yourself up, honey. David will finish helping." She assures me, earning a 'I don't wanna' from David.
She tells him to set the table as she guides me out of the kitchen.
