#I have a lot to say about this because 3 of my ex boyfriends were UNDOCUMENTED mexican men who earned MORE than me a “citizen” w/ 2 degree

[doctormastertardis]

Personal share:

My neighbor (who is a white, German American guy) is married to a native "Filipina" woman who was raised in a remote province in the Philippines as I was... and it's so refreshing to see his 6 year old "American" kids think differently from their (brainwashed/programmed) peers.

Like, for example, if you offer them candy or any sort of dessert, they would ask "does it have high fructose corn syrup?"

And me, being the daughter and grand-daughter of TRIBAL teachers in the Philippines, I asked her back: "what IS fructose corn syrup?" (I know what it is fyi, I'm just trying to engage).... to which she replied, "it's fake sugar and bad for your body." And they are the same way with television shows and books they're exposed to. And they are only 6. They remind me of how I was raised by my mom and grandma.

Most Americans like to downplay knowledge/wisdom (and when Americans do hype up "learning," it's usually in the name of EGO, i.e. "I'm better than you cause I'm educated")... And yall can excuse the shit and say, "because most Americans are in poverty" but my mom and dad literally lived in poverty in the Philippines? My dad was a squatter/homeless man in the Philippines before he became a custodian/chef for the US Navy. He was born in 1933 and my mom in 1944.... My mom was raised by a single mom of 10 kids IN THE MOUNTAINS where there were no libraries or easy access to food... My dad was literally a "war baby". He witnessed World War 2 at age 10.

Yet they both raised me in a household where we were exposed to the most complex and inter-cultural sorts of science, history, art, etc. AND IT NOT BECAUSE OF PRIVILEGE (I went to an "international school" in PI as a child around RICH European, Chinese, and Korean settlers) . My mom made sure to tell us everyday how poor they were growing up (she and my dad worked hard to save up US$89 a year to pay our tuition fee every year in the 90s).... but the reason why I am the way I am today is because they CHOSE to EXPOSE US to different cultures and knowledges due to the hardships they themselves faced growing up.

But most Americans OF ALL COLOR always TAKE THE EASY WAY OUT. And honestly, when my family moved to California when I was 13 (I am 38 now), I saw just how insecure and willfully stupid American kids are. That's why American public school is, to this day, the breeding ground for WILLFUL IGNORANCE. American kids GROW UP TO BE BULLIES.

And I'm not saying this in a condescending manner. I am saying this because it's in COLONIAL cultures like America that BREEDS the type of thinking that "critical thinking" is bad and "being a hard worker" is good.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Meaningful Kiss 2

SUMMARY: Would they make Public Displays of Affection? If not, are they protective instead? And how do they show you how much they truly love you through their kisses? 💋

CHARACTERS: Freshmen (Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Romantic Relationship; Kissing; Flirting

WARNING: Spoilers from Ace Suitor Suit Card Vignettes

WORD COUNT: An average of 330 words per character.

COMMENTS: The first Meaningful Kiss with the Overblot Students went so well and so many people liked it that I thought about doing another one with the next most popular group, the Freshmen. And according to a poll more than 80% of the votes were for "OMG! YES PLEASE!" So here it is.

I hope you all enjoy 😘

Meaningful Kiss 3 (Ruggie, Jade, Kalim, Silver, Lilia)

Meaningful Kiss 4 (Cater, Trey, Floyd, Rook)

CONTEXT: For some of them I needed to think first about what the beginning of the relationship would be like. But this would already be how they would act in an established relationship.

Ace is kinda into PDA, but more to tease you and mess with you. He is very comfortable with you. He has no problem putting his arm around your shoulders or waist with a playful smile. Often to try to convince you not to be the voice of reason and join him in trouble.

In public he may hug you a lot, but the only kisses he gives you are on the forehead or cheek. Because on the lips, those are the special ones! And those are reserved for your private moments.

You two are usually alone in Ramshackle Dorm, mainly in the Lounge. You would have many movie sessions where you would make popcorn and snacks together. And it is in these moments, where there is a high chance of you messing with each other, like throwing flour at each other or smearing each other's noses with chocolate, that his most meaningful kisses can happen. In a fun atmosphere.

His most meaningful kisses are playful and grateful. He hugs you like he never wants to lose you. His kisses are passionate, not in a sense of desire, but in a sense of gratitude. You know those moments when something happens that makes a person remember why they love someone else? These are those moments and those kisses. These kisses mean "thank you for being in my life".

However, there are also certain other times when kisses like this can happen. Imagine him getting into trouble and you ending up in trouble too. But of course, instead of handing Ace over, you protect him, help him hide or even hide with him. It is in these moments that you can also receive a passionate kiss from him. “Thank you for being my partner in crime” kisses.

Deuce is very new to these things, so he's not a fan of PDA. But even when he's gotten used to your relationship, he doesn't see PDA as something necessary. You love each other and you only need to prove that to each other.

BUT if you really like it when he hugs you or gives you a kiss on the cheek, he might do it for you. On the lips, those are the special ones and he is very embarrassed to give them to you in public because he needs to be comfortable to kiss you properly.

At first, he will still get flustered easily and probably blush a lot. It's all very new to him. So, even holding your hand will take a little while for him to get used to it. But once enough time has passed, he won't have any problems even linking his arm with you. And also given enough time, he will start to be that boyfriend who gives you a kiss on the cheek every time he greets you and every time he says goodbye.

For his most meaningful kisses there will be special places. Places where he will take you on his Blastcycle (Magical Wheel). If he takes you on a date. These kisses can also happen in sporadic moments where he feels so happy to have you that he forgets everything else.

His kisses are passionate, urgent, like it's something he needs to give you. You know when he gets so angry that his ex-delinquent self shows up? Now think about that intensity and lack of control, but with love and affection. He is more sentimental than rational, so I believe he is the type of person who is not ashamed to tell the people closest to him how important they are. And he won't think twice to decide whether to show you how much he loves you or not in a romantic moment.

Jack tries not to do PDA, or at least he tried more in the beginning. It's all still very new to him and he knows that you are his partner for life, so there is plenty of time to get used to the relationship.

Wolf beastmen only have one special someone, ever. They choose a single partner to care for. He chose you, the same way you chose him and now he is committed to you for life. And both he and you expect this to be a long time, so there's no need to rush anything.

He's not much into PDA, but eventually he'll feel more comfortable holding hands with you or letting you link your arm through his. At first, any kiss was still awkward in public, but after a while he ended up having no problem giving you a quick kiss on the cheek if you asked, or if he was very happy. And only some time after this phase, he will feel more comfortable giving you a quick kiss on the lips, usually to say goodbye.

Why are all his kisses in public quick? Because the slow ones are the private ones. Despite his tough wolf exterior, with you, especially in private, he can be a puppy. Rare are the times when he isn’t wagging his tail when he's with you. Or smiling, even if it's just a little. He likes to cuddle! The best moments alone with you are when you can rest in each other's arms. You can pet him. Please do.

He gives you sweet, light and lingering kisses on your cheeks and lips, but the most meaningful ones are a mix of gentleness and excitement. Do you know when dogs are so happy that they get excited? Think of that excitement, but gentler, more caring, more careful. He wants to show you how much he loves you, but he is also aware of his strength and that you are a human, less strong than a beastman/woman.

Being faithful to the character and his complexes, I don't believe Epel would have a relationship with someone more masculine than himself. So I believe his significant other would be more feminine than him or a girl.

If you're not a girl, it might take longer for him to get to this stage. But if you are, at first he may see you as a bit of a trophy, just a little. You will find him more cocky than usual and he won't have any problems with PDA, quite the opposite, he wants to show everyone your relationship. He'll put his arm around you a lot, whether it's around your shoulders or your waist. He'll try to get over the fact that you're taller than him if you are, but if you're shorter, he might feel like the protective boyfriend he so wants to be.

It will be a rocky start. And you will have to have a talk with him about the sudden change in attitude towards you. He will apologize a lot and reveal that yes, he is proud of himself for being in a relationship with you, because he is proud to be someone you can trust and fall in love with. The last thing he wants is to be disrespectful to you. This is still new for him, so can you help him be better?

After this beginning of learning, you will discover that yes, he genuinely likes PDA. He is a prideful person. Proud of himself for the person he is becoming with you and proud of you for... everything. And he wants to show everyone how much you deserve his affection.

He can hold your hand, hug you, and give you kisses on the cheek, but kisses on the lips are special, and less confident, at least at first. He has no experience and he doesn't want to ruin the moment. But once he gets used to it, you'll find that his kisses are just as sweet, cute and delicate as the appearance he's learning to embrace.

Good Luck! Sebek is... intense, but slow. Especially because he follows Lilia's “advices” too much. According to Lilia, once he falls in love with someone, he must pen them a letter. With a fountain pen since that and stationery are the true weapons in matters of love. He shall pen his feelings, slip a photo of his smiling visage into every third missive, and repeat this until the twenty-fifth full moon.

Of course you won't be able to bear this for long and you'll have to have a talk with him and Lilia. He’ll ask Lilia what to do from now on, and seeing that things are real now, he'll probably just reply: "Whatever you feel you should do. Trust your heart, but never overlapping yours with (Y/N)’s. That's it! Good luck."

Just like he does with Malleus, Sebek's way of showing that he likes someone is by admiring and protecting them. So, at first it will be just that, he will be close to you and you will receive many words of affirmation.

However, even after he becomes more comfortable with you, you will find that he is indifferent to PDA. At least PDA initiated by him. But if you say you want to hold hands, a hug, a kiss, whatever it is, your wishes are orders! Literally!

In that case, he will never have any problem doing any of the things you ask. Do you want to walk hand in hand? He will extend his hand like a gentleman asking his date to dance. Do you want a hug? He'll open his arms and let you in, maybe even give you a kiss on the forehead if you're feeling down.

Do you want a kiss? What kind of kiss? On the forehead? Granted! On the cheek? For sure! On the lips? Then you have to be careful. Remember that he never hides how much he likes and admires someone. He doesn't exactly have one kiss more special than the other. he will give you any kind of kiss you wish. Like I said, your wishes are orders and you will feel it in his kisses. His most meaningful kisses are all, because they are all to make you happy.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[pedroscurls]

training partners (pt. 3)

summary: you continue to spend more time with hugh, realizing just how different your lives are and while it scares you, hugh does a great job at reassuring you. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), reader has some description (hair, outfit), angst - mentions of a past toxic relationship (gaslighting) reader thinks too much and has insecurities, suggestive smut (brief oral - f receiving), no use of y/n. word count: 3.9k a/n: ok, so this relationship is moving fast but let's be honest, i feel like hugh would definitely know a good thing when he sees it lol. this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman (it's the only way i can live out my fantasies of this man lol). prev part. - next part.

You wake up the sounds of Hugh’s quiet snores. You still can’t believe you spent the night. One of his arms is draped over your waist and you’re very aware of the lack of clothing between the both of you. True to his word, Hugh devoured you last night. His tongue, his lips, his fingers– the man knew exactly what he was doing. You were hesitant at first, seeing him between your legs, mouth inches away from where you needed him the most. He could sense your nervousness and had gently placed a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh. 

It was such a simple act, but it provided all the reassurance you needed. Hugh was the first ever person to go down on you and you fear that he’s ruined it for you. If this didn’t work out, you’re sure that there won’t ever be another man to do it like him.

You’re lying on your back, arm resting over his. He looks so peaceful, so unbothered by the responsibilities and realities of the world. His snores even provide a level of comfort that you know can lull you back to sleep. It had only been a week since meeting him and while you certainly didn’t plan for any of this to happen, you can’t imagine it being any different. 

You liked Hugh. A lot, and it scared you. Not because you didn’t think you weren’t ready to get into another relationship, but because your worlds were just vastly different. 

But you remember what he said yesterday and it brings a smile to your lips.

“I don’t want this to be casual.”

You turn slightly to face him, watching as he moves with you, lying on his back instead as his arm drops from your waist. You lie on your side, bringing your fingertips to gently run across his chest. He’s still snoring, but you can’t help but notice the marks you left on his body. The scratch marks on his arms and you’re sure there are more on his back. 

This doesn’t feel real. It’s like you’re in some kind of dream and you’re afraid to wake up, not wanting this to end. Yesterday had been one of the best days you’ve had in a very long time and you had Hugh to thank. Not only was the sex amazing, but the conversations and laughter you both shared was just as great. 

You know you shouldn’t be comparing Hugh to your ex-boyfriend, but you can’t help but reflect on just how different they both were. Whenever you were talking, Hugh always made sure to keep his attention fully on you, eyes staring into yours, hand holding yours or resting on your back. With Hugh, you felt seen. You felt heard. You felt like your voice mattered. 

With your ex-boyfriend, you always felt like you were bothersome. He had always been very short with you, always on his phone, and very disinterested in what you had to say. Towards the end of your relationship with him, you had learned to keep quiet, learned to keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself. It wasn’t until the relationship ended that you realized just how much your ex-boyfriend gaslit you and your emotions. 

But with Hugh… You felt validated. You had to wonder if it had to do with the age difference. Your ex-boyfriend was just a year older than you; with Hugh being much older, you couldn’t help but think about all of the life experiences he must have gone through to get to where he is now. 

With Hugh, you feel so much more grounded. 

Wanting to surprise him with breakfast, you slowly climb out of bed and pull on your panties. You carefully tiptoe into his closet, making sure not to make too much noise. You pull on one of Hugh’s white button down shirts and slip it on, buttoning just a few buttons to at least cover yourself up. 

Then, you leave his bedroom and make your way to his kitchen. You don’t know if this is overstepping any boundaries, but you wanted to do something nice for him, especially after yesterday. 

You’re taken aback by the view of the city again. Hugh was right, watching the sunset last night was worth staying. His kitchen is so much larger than yours and you’re not sure where he keeps his pots and pans, so you open the cupboards to try and find them. When you do, you grab one large pan and place it on top of his stove and then open his fridge. You see a carton of eggs and a bag of spinach that you take and place on the counter. You remember that Hugh’s on a strict diet, so what’s healthier than an egg and spinach omelet? 

You also see his coffee machine in the corner and your eyes light up in excitement. Having been a barista all throughout your college years, you knew your way around a good coffee machine. 

It takes you about twenty minutes to finish cooking and making coffee. You’re about to set the table when you hear footsteps round the corner. You look up at him to see that he’s completely shirtless, but that he has put on a pair of sweatpants that hangs low at his hips. His hair is slightly disheveled and he’s yawning, but when his eyes meet yours, there’s a large grin that forms on his lips.

“Did you make me breakfast?” he calls out, walking over to you. 

“And coffee,” you point out. “I hope you don’t mind,” you say nervously. “I wanted to do something for you since yesterday was just such an amazing day and–”

Hugh interrupts you and cups your cheeks in his large hands, bending down to press his lips against yours softly. “I don’t mind at all, love.” Then, he pulls back enough to look down at what you’re wearing and he bites his lower lip. “And I certainly don’t mind this at all.” 

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks as you move to rest your hands on his broad chest. “I couldn’t find my shirt, so…”

“You could’ve also just walked around naked,” Hugh winks. “That would have been just as an amazing sight as this.”

You roll your eyes playfully and pull away from him, but he takes your wrist and pulls you back into his arms. 

“Wait,” he says quietly. 

“Hm?” 

“Good morning,” Hugh smiles, kissing your forehead. “Yesterday and last night was… It was wonderful.” 

“It was the best day,” you say softly, leaning into him. “One of the best I’ve had in a while.” 

“I can get used to having you here,” Hugh admits. “Is that– Am I moving too fast here?” 

You shake your head and run your hands to his chest and arms, gently squeezing his biceps as you bite your lower lip. “No, I just–” you sigh. “What if you get tired of me?” 

“I won’t,” Hugh reassures you. 

“But what if–” you shake your head, trying to force the negative thoughts out. You realize it’s lingering in the back of your mind. “You’re you and I’m me.” 

Hugh’s hands move to your hips, gently squeezing them. “He really hurt you, didn’t he?” Hugh asks quietly. 

“Hugh…” 

“I’m not him, baby.” 

“I know you aren’t.”

“Good because I know a good thing when I see it,” Hugh affirms. 

You bite your lower lip and look deeply into his eyes, feeling your heart swell at his words and at the sight of him. You can tell how serious he is, how his gaze doesn’t falter. “I like being here. With you,” you admit. “And I’m not just saying that because the sex is amazing.”

“But that’s one of the reasons, isn’t it?” Hugh winks, letting out a quiet chuckle. “You know, I haven’t slept that good in a very long time. Something about having you next to me brought me a lot of comfort.”

“You have a way of words, don’t you?” You smile, leaning up to gently peck his lips. 

Hugh laughs quietly and pulls away from you to walk over to the plate of food. “I just tell the truth, baby.” 

You roll your eyes and sit on the stool, looking up at him as he takes a bite of the egg and spinach omelet you created for him. He lets out a quiet groan of approval and looks in your direction, grinning. 

“So, you can cook too?” 

“And make coffee,” you wink. 

Hugh arches a brow and takes a sip of his americano, brows raising upwards. “Wow. Yeah, I need you around here like… All the time. Can we arrange that, you think?” 

“Hmm,” you look up in thought, resting an elbow on the island. “I will need some closet space, a corner on your bathroom counter–”

Hugh lets out a laugh and sets his fork down to walk towards you, turning your body on the stool until your back is resting against the counter and his hands rest at either side of you, caging you in. He bends down so that you’re at eye level with him, a smirk lining his lips. 

“Whatever you want, baby, you’re gonna get.” He leans in, brushing his lips against yours. 

You move to wrap around arms lazily around his shoulders and stare into his eyes, running your fingers through his hair. “You should finish your breakfast. You’re bulking up for Wolverine, so you need your calories.” 

“I also need some cardio too,” Hugh grins. “Wanna join in on the session?” 

You bite your lower lip in anticipation and nod slowly. “Meet you upstairs?” 

Hugh shakes his head and moves his hand to your hips, lifting you off the stool with ease and placing you on the edge of the counter. “No, baby, gonna need you to wait right here for me.” 

“Like a good girl?” you ask, bringing your hands to play with the buttons 

Hugh grins and nods, continuing to eat as he stares at you,eyes dropping to see your legs cross over one another. Then, he reaches out and taps your knee. “Leave ‘em open for me.” 

You nod and then spread your legs for him, looking up at him in excitement.

Hugh’s eyes narrow and he takes the last bite of his omelet. He sets the plate in the sink and then walks to stand between your legs, reaching up to undo the button on the shirt you’re wearing. Once it opens, he clears his throat and moves his hands to push the shirt off your shoulders, exposing your chest to him. 

“Gonna have an early morning dessert, if ya don’t mind, baby.” Hugh smirks, hooking his fingers into your panties and sliding it down your legs. “Been thinking about this since last night. Tastes so good,” he growls. 

Then, Hugh dips down between your legs and you feel eyes roll in the back of your head once his tongue darts out to taste you. 

—

It’s been a full week since you spent the night and Hugh craves more and more of having you in his home with him. It’s been a very long time since he’s felt like this and he’s known to fall hard and fall fast, but he’s being careful this time around. He doesn’t want to push you if you aren’t ready, but he can’t help the way you make him laugh and smile, how he feels more at calm with you by his side, and how excited he gets whenever he falls asleep with you in his arms because he knows he’ll wake up with you by his side. 

Hugh knows that he’s going to get busier as the months pass, knowing that for the next year, he’s going to be focused on preparing to come back as Logan. While it should deter him from continuing to see you and committing himself to a relationship, it surprises him that it doesn’t. He isn’t the type of person to take things for granted and he always went after what he wanted, and you– Well, you have been such a nice surprise and he can’t even think about the possibility of letting you go. 

He thinks back to the last time you were here, teasing him about how you would need closet space and an area in his bathroom for your things. You might have been joking, but Hugh takes it seriously. He’s already given you more than enough space in his closet, walking inside to see the vacant space along the wall. He stands there, arms crossed over his chest, as he imagines your things here with his. 

Hugh’s mind drifts when he hears his phone ring. He looks down at it and sees your contact name; he always smiles at it: Swole-mate 💪

“Hi, baby,” Hugh answers immediately. He can’t ignore the way his heart rate speeds up, his stomach doing flips in excitement just to get a chance to hear your voice. “You almost here?” 

“Yeah, just a few minutes out,” he hears you say. “Are you sure spending the weekend is okay?” 

Hugh leaves his closet and begins descending the stairs to greet you. “If I had it my way, you’d be here for more than just the weekend.”

With the silence that comes from you, Hugh just knows that your mind has drifted and so when you pull into his driveway, he hangs up the phone and waits until you park to approach you. Once you climb out of your car, your eyes meet his and Hugh smiles, walking towards you. 

“Your mind just doesn’t shut off, does it?” Hugh says, taking your hand and gently pulling you to him. “What’s goin’ on in that beautiful head of yours, baby?” 

“Nothing,” you sigh, resting your cheek against his chest as your arms come up to wrap around him. You feel safe with him, but you know that you both need to have a serious conversation about where this will go. He had mentioned to you that his schedule was going to get busier and you wanted to know where you fit in with all of that before you allow yourself to fall in deeper. 

Hugh brings a hand to rub your back, placing a gentle kiss at the crown of your head. “I don’t believe ya,” he says. “Let me grab your things and we can head inside and talk?” 

You nod and release your hold on him, watching him walk towards your trunk to grab your duffle bag filled with clothes and toiletries to last for the rest of the weekend. Once he shuts your trunk, Hugh reaches out and takes your hand in his, leading you inside his home and up the stairs to his bedroom. 

You’ve been thinking so much since the last time you were here, trying your best to stay in the moment and not expect too much, but when Hugh mentioned his schedule for the next few months, you started to pull away. You didn’t want to put your all into this if it wasn’t going to go anywhere. Hugh sits at the edge of his bed and looks up at you, head tilting to the side. 

You’re pacing back and forth in front of him and he reaches out for your hand to pull you to stand between his legs. 

“Hey,” he says softly. 

You don’t look at him, letting out a quiet sigh.

“Baby,” Hugh says again. “Look at me.”

You clear your throat and turn your attention to him. There are tears stinging your eyes and you aren’t even sure why you’re getting so emotional, but there is a bit of fear knowing that this may be the last weekend you would spend with him. 

“Talk to me. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s goin’ on in your mind.” 

“You’re going to be busier,” you point out, biting the inside of your cheek. “And I don’t want to hold you back. I know we literally just met two weeks ago, but I’m okay with ending things the way they are now. It’s been more than amazing to spend all this time with you and–”

“Ending this?” Hugh interrupts, confusion written all over his face as his brows furrow together. “Do you not want this?” 

“No, I do!” you sigh, looking down at your hands that are currently holding onto his. “I just– I don’t want you to have to worry about me while you’re away shooting and you’re going to just be so busy. I know what you do for a living and it’s to be expected, but I just feel like you’d worry while you’re away and I don’t–” you let out a shaky breath and shake your head. “Am I even making sense?” 

Hugh sighs. “You are making sense,” he reassures, bringing your hand to his lips and placing a soft kiss on the back of it. “But I guess I just don’t understand. You won’t be holding me back.”

“Hugh,” you close your eyes for a moment and release his hands to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “I like you a lot and it scares me,” you admit. “It scares me because I don’t know how I fit into all of this. Into your life.”

“Really?” Hugh asks. “Because I can see it so clearly.” 

“What?”

“I can see how you fit into my life so clearly,” Hugh repeats. “And you’re not tied to a job here. You travel for work too and I may or may have not talked about you to Ryan and Shawn…” he admits quietly. “Anyway, I know it’s scary because this scares me too, but I can’t…” he shakes his head, looking up at you as his hands move to rest on your hips. “I can’t even fathom letting you go and I don’t want to either.”

“I’ve given my all before in a relationship and in the end, it only hurt me…” you reply with a shaky voice. 

“I know,” he sighs, eyes softening as he slowly stands up. Your hands drop from his shoulders to his waist as Hugh’s hands cup the base of your neck, keeping his eyes solely focused on yours. “And I can’t promise that everything will always be okay, but I can promise you that I’d always put you first. No matter what. Whatever this is between us,” Hugh continues, his thumbs brushing against the corners of your eyes as he feels a couple of tears trickle. “I want to believe that it’ll work out.” 

“We’ve only known each other for two weeks,” you whisper. “I’m way in over my head. You must think I’m crazy.” 

“Like I said… You have a lot of love to give,” Hugh whispers, gently pecking your lips. “And I’d be a lucky man to be on the receiving end of your love one day.” 

You bite your lower lip and wrap your arms around him tighter, moving to rest your forehead against the crook of his neck as his hands drop from the base of your neck to rest on your lower back. Hugh can feel the weight lift itself off your shoulders as you relax into him. He peppers kisses along your cheek and tightens his hold on you. 

“Feeling better?” Hugh whispers into your ear.

You nod against him. “Yeah, thank you, Hugh.”

“All I ask is that you talk to me, baby, okay?” He asks, pulling back to look down at you. “Whatever is bothering you, I don’t want you to hold it in. I’m here to listen.” 

“God, you really are perfect, aren’t you?” you laugh quietly, pecking his lips. 

Hugh smiles to himself. He realizes that he hates seeing you upset and when he hears your laugh and sees the smile on your face, he feels proud, accomplished. “I’m not perfect.” 

“I’d say otherwise,” you smile, looking deeply into his eyes. “I’m not used to talking about what’s bothering me or my feelings, but I’m learning.”

“This will always be a safe space, okay?” Hugh tells you. “You’re safe with me.”

You hug him tightly, burying your face into him as you let out a sigh of relief. You feel his arms tighten around you and it brings you so much comfort. Being here with him, in his arms, brings you comfort. You feel him fall back onto his mattress, taking you with him as you curl against his side, arm draped over his abdomen as his arm hooks around your shoulders. 

“So, you told Ryan and Shawn about me?” you ask, looking up at him. “As in the Ryan Reynolds and the Shawn Levy?” 

Hugh laughs. “Do you describe all people like that?”

“Only celebrities,” you correct. 

Hugh looks down at you and shakes his head, a smile lining his lips. “I did, is that okay? I know we never talked about who can know and who can’t…”

“It’s okay, Hugh,” you reassure him, kissing his chest. 

“I’d tell the whole world, if I could,” he says honestly. “But whenever you’re ready, baby.” 

You nod, shutting your eyes as you rest against him. “Thank you,” you whisper. “For not pressuring me. For going at my pace. I know it must not be easy, but you have no idea how much it means to me.” 

Hugh hooks a finger under your chin, eyes scanning your features as he bites his lower lip. Your eyes remain closed as he brushes his thumb lightly along your jawline. “I’d wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“Yeah,” you smile, turning your head to kiss the pad of his thumb. “You’re perfect.”

Hugh laughs to himself and then holds you tighter into his side. “So, I also told Ryan and Shawn you were a photographer and they may want to meet you to discuss a few things.”

“About my work or about us?” you open your eyes at that, looking up at him.

“About your work.”

“But I’m an engagement photographer, and last I checked, they’re both already married.” 

Hugh smiles. “Well, I also showed them your other work…”

“Oh, but those weren’t really serious… They were just for fun. Landscapes, street photography.” 

“They were just as good, baby.” He tells you. “And it’s possible,” he grins. “Or rather, they will be asking if you’d be interested in being our on-set photographer, taking pictures behind the scenes.”

Your eyes widen slightly, looking into his eyes. “That would mean I’d be there with you.”

Hugh nods slowly, the grin remaining on his lips. “Exactly, you’d be there with me on set of Deadpool & Wolverine. You sure you won’t get tired of me?” Hugh asks.

You shake your head and move to straddle his waist, resting your forearms down on either side of his head on the bed as you feel his hands move to your hips. 

“Isn’t that a question that I ask?” you tease, nose brushing against his. 

“It’s a valid question.” 

“No, I won’t get tired of you, Hugh. How can I?” you whisper, brushing your lips across his own lightly. “I mean, I think you’ve ruined other men for me.” 

Hugh growls and wraps an arm around your waist, rolling you over onto your back as he settles himself between your legs. “Good,” he says huskily, rolling his hips against yours. “Because you’re mine now.”

---

taglist (if links don't work, i'm sorry!): @corvusmorte - @dragonqueen89 - @whimsiwitchy - @kellyxo1 - @wolviehugh - @moonxknightx - @sullyselena - @angelofthorr - @spectorrrhgf - @needz1nk - @fandomxo00 - @godlypresley - @kythefangirl25 - @callsignyourmom

[nicksbestie]

Omg the Johnnie fic was just wow.. honestly loved every part (def my fave post so far) which is why I’m here begging for another haha

Could you write a Johnnie Guilbert x reader where the reader is Tara’s friend and is invited to a hangout with all of the friends and Johnnie meets her there for the first time and completely falls in love. Like imagine he greets her and then turns to Jake “I need a ring” “what for” “to propose”

And just FLUFF ugh I love awkward and sweet Johnnie.

this was so sweet ily tysm :( <3

this fic was a tiny bit rushed just because i'm struggling with motivation and trying not to let reqs rot in my inbox but i hope you love it anyways!

Party

warnings : mentions of alcohol

pairing : Johnnie Guilbert x fem reader

word count : 1158

enjoy!

<3

Your best friend was having a Valentine’s party, and you were nothing short of completely ecstatic.

Despite being single, Valentine’s Day was still one of your favorite holidays, because your friends always did something so fun. You had no idea who was going to be in attendance, but you knew that your best friend, Tara, was inviting people from her inner circle, which included some people with a lot of reach. You couldn’t deny that you had a little bit of nerves about it, just because of the fact that Tara was quite literally famous. There would probably be a ton of super important people there, and you didn’t know if you were completely ready for that. 

You had made some features in Tara’s videos every now and again, and you had a solid following, but it was nothing like hers, and you also knew that she was inviting her best friend and ex boyfriend, who had a solid following of over two million, so the nerves were definitely there. Tara had told you that you were definitely overreacting, but you really did not want to be that person who accidentally embarrassed themselves in front of people that were on such a pedestal. Not to say that they were perfect, not by any means, but you were sure that some sort of footage from this party would make it to social media, being that Tara always recorded funny moments, and you did not want to go viral for the wrong things. 

You had gone over to Tara’s house about two hours before the party to get ready with her, as you always had the most fun doing that. You two shared a ton of clothes, helped each other with doing makeup, setting things up, and just in general having a good time. It was always a fun time for the two of you, and you had done that many times before many parties, hosted at both of your houses. So that was where you were right now, in Tara’s bathroom, her helping you even out your eyeliner on both eyes, as that had often been something that you really struggled with, and Tara had a natural talent for it. Tara was going over the guest list, and though it was pretty small for one of Tara’s parties, it was still a large gathering for you. 

Tara was a much more social person than you, and she found a lot of fun in spending time with large groups of people, whereas you had more fun with smaller, more close-knit groups. Her parties always reflected that, but due to the fact that normally there were a lot of people you knew, and also a lot of alcohol, you normally loosened up pretty quickly and always had a great time. You learned at this point when Tara was listing off who all was coming that Jake’s other best friend, Johnnie, was coming, and you knew of him, but had never met him in person. Tara had a devious grin on her face when you brought that point up, explaining that he wasn’t really a party person either, and she mumbled something about you two being perfect for each other. 

You hit her on the shoulder, causing her to laugh, which made you laugh as well, because Tara’s good mood and laughter was contagious, and you couldn’t help yourself. You and Tara had similar styles, and began sifting through her closet deciding what to wear tonight. Obviously it was red and pink themed, but that didn’t mean that you weren’t going to sneak in a little bit of black. It went with everything, so you had a valid reason to get away with it. After picking out a cute outfit, you still had some time to kill, and you and Tara began setting out food, drinks, and removing any possible breakables from common areas of the house. She laughed and told you a ridiculous story about Jake accidentally breaking an expensive valuable when he got too drunk at one of her parties, and now she’s learned to make sure that they’re all put away. 

The next forty five minutes went by so quickly, and you two had an amazing time setting up, and just getting to spend time with each other. Not for the first time, your nerves had completely disappeared once Tara had gotten you to open up, and you were nothing but excited for the party that was due to be starting soon. As Tara began opening the door and introducing guests that you either didn’t know or barely knew, you mostly relaxed, eating a couple of snacks and hanging out in the kitchen with Tara and the rest of the people. Nothing really picked up for the first couple of minutes, until a specific car pulled up outside of the house, music blasting loud enough for you to hear it inside the house, making you wonder just how loud it was inside the vehicle. You motioned to Tara, gesturing outside, and she rolled her eyes but had a smile on her face. 

“That would be Jake, wouldn’t it? Something about him always having to make an appearance.” 

You agreed, moving to make conversation with a couple friends you recognized while Tara let Jake in, accompanied by Johnnie. You looked up and saw Tara hugging the both of them, and took in their appearance. Jake, you had seen quite a few times, but you had never seen Johnnie in person. And you couldn’t lie, he was much more attractive in person. Unfortunately, due to your luck, Johnnie looked up from hugging Tara, and happened to make direct eye contact with you. You immediately looked away, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks, and hoped on everything that he hadn’t noticed. Unbeknownst to you, he had, but also unbeknownst to you, he was blushing just about the same, it just wasn’t as visible because of his makeup. 

He turned to Jake as soon as Tara turned away to greet someone else, and elbowed him in the ribs. Jake doubled over, swearing under his breath as he asked what he needed. 

“Dude, what the hell?” 

“I need a fucking ring or something.” 

He looked at Johnnie like he had just lost his absolute mind. 

“What? A ring? For what?” 

Looking at his best friend’s face, he realized he looked like a lovestruck puppy, a weird expression to see on Johnnie’s face, and slightly disturbing. 

“To propose. Jesus Christ, look at her. She’s gorgeous.” 

Jake followed his eyes to see who exactly he was looking at, also at the same moment that you looked back up to try to check out Johnnie again, and watched you blush for a second time, awkwardly looking away and pretending you hadn’t seen them. 

“Well, looks like last year was your last Valentine’s alone.”

You enjoyed that party so much more than you had ever expected to.

[girasollake]

Hello

Would you be able to write for Theodore Nott with the trope fake dating and the prompt 50?

Thank youu <3

✧ theodore nott x fem!reader x fake dating x "my love language is bullying people." "you bully me. a lot." "..."✧

( this request is a part of my writing event, here is the link to the masterlist of the fics i'll be publishing from said event:) )

❁ i hope this turned out well, happy reading:)

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Pacing around your dorm and chewing on your thumb, you tried to figure out how to get out of the situation you got yourself into. You didn’t mean to answer the question with his name, it just happened. It’s like you weren’t even thinking and your mind made that quick decision for you.

For the last month your ex boyfriend had been harrasing you to get back together. You dumped him after catching him in the act with a girl from a year below yours. You felt anger, sadness and loath, not because of the relationship he decided to end, but because it hurt to see someone you started to trust - pick someone over you.

Over the time he was stalking you and trying various ways to get back, you had found yourself being more and more drawn towards your best friend’s mate.

“ ‘We’re done Patrick! I don’t know what I have to say for it to get through your fucking skull.’ You hissed at your ex.

‘We’re not done.’ He took a step closer. ‘Do you really think someone else will want you besides me?’ A chuckle escaped his lips.

You stood there frozen, the insult burning itself into your mind.

‘My boyfriend.’ You finally replied after a moment of silence.

‘You don’t have one, love.’ He placed his finger under your chin and made you look up at him. ‘But you can have me again.’

‘No.’ You spat and took a step back. ‘I am seeing someone else.’

That’s the moment where you should have stopped talking.

‘Oh, really?’ He cocked his brow, a mocking expression on his face. ‘Who?’

Don’t say it.

Don’t say it.

‘Theo Nott.’ “

You sat down on your bed, the finger slightly covered in your blood from the biting. You had only two options, either admit to your ex that you lied to him and still get harrassed by him, or ask Nott out.

You rubbed your temples slowly, sighed and decided to go to the library to clear your mind, hoping that Patrick won’t be able to talk to Theo until tomorrow.

At this time of the day there was barely anyone inside the library. You were slowly walking between the shelfes, looking at each book and reading the title. After a few minutes of strolling you reached the Romance Novels section, very few books there, but it lured you in. Especially one of them, which you have read a long time ago.

‘Of course.’ You chuckled, holding the book in your hands and tracing the cover with your fingers.

The story was about a woman who was a spy and had to make a deal with a member of an organisation they were infiltrating. She promised to get him the safety he needed to escape his boss and he promised her to give her all the information she needed. They started fake dating.

You should’ve thought of this idea earlier, but you were too stressed to even sit in one spot, let alone think of this good of a plan. You put the book back in it’s place and rushed out of the library. While you were running through the halls, you spotted a familiar figure talking with her friends.

‘Hi, can I borrow Pansy for a moment? Thanks!’

You snatched her by the arm and led her to an empty classroom.

‘This better be an emergency.’ She playfully rolled her eyes.

‘Long story short - Patrick thinks I’m dating Theo and I have to prove him that I am.’

She looked at you dumbfounded and then a loud laugh escaped her lips.

‘Is this a joke?’ She asked, laughter still present in her voice.

It slowly faded as she realised how stoic and serious was the expression on your face.

‘Shut up!’ She exclaimed. ‘Merlin, what have you done?’

She put her palm on her forehead and exhaled all the air she had.

‘You know Theo does NOT date.’

‘I know! I don’t even know why I said his name! It just… It just came out, okay?’ You sighed and closed your eyes while throwing your head back. “But I do have an idea…’ you mumbled and slowly opened your eyes to look at Pansy.

‘Good Lord.. I don’t know if I even want to hear it.’ She sighed. ‘Go on.’ She showed a motion with her hand to tell you to proceed.

‘Fake dating.’

She bursted out in laughter.

‘What?’ She finally managed to get out. ‘How on earth do you want to persuade him into that?’

‘I’ll just… I’ll offer him something if he says no.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know yet, whatever he says he’d like.’

‘So like, you’d give him a b-‘

‘Bloody hell Pans!’ You whisper-yelled. ‘I’ll do anything that does not involve sexual exchange.’

‘Alright, just askin’’ She raised her hands in defence.

‘Where can I find him?’

It was Saturday, so you couldn’t catch him in class. Pansy looked at her watch and made a thinking face.

‘Ummm… If I’m correct…’ She sighed. ‘They should finish their quidditch practice in a few minutes.’

You jumped up and gave her a quick hug before running out.

‘Thanks P, you’re the best!’ You shouted just before disappearing behind the door.

‘Course I am.’ She whispered and smirked to herself.

She looked around the room where she was now alone and shook her head.

‘Fingers crossed’ She muttered and headed outside.

You on the other hand, had reached the quidditch pitch in the right moment. Standing outside the boys locker room, you couldn’t help but listen to their faint voices. Unfortunately it was too quiet for you to make out any words. The door swung open unexpectedly and your head shot up to meet Draco’s eyes.

‘Can I talk to Nott?’ You asked and lifted up your chin higher.

Draco looked you up and down and then turned his head towards the boys.

‘Nott, come and say hi to one of your girls.’ He said and everyone started snickering at Theo.

‘Shut up, Malfoy.’ He glared at him and then your eyes met his.

He came over to you and you almost forgot about why you came here because, well, he was shirtless and his bottom was wrapped in a towel, leaving very little to your imagination. You gulped and quickly straightened up to not get caught checking him out.

‘I really need your help with something. Can we talk after you…’ You motioned towards his outfit, or better - the lack of it.

He cleared his throat and nodded, ‘Wait for me on the pitch?’

‘Sure.’ You gave him a soft smile and headed outside.

Thankfully there was a few benches on the sides of the pitch, they were there during practice, but hidden when there was a match. You sat down and buried your face in your hands.

‘What the fuck am I doing?’ You mumbled.

You started playing with your rings and thinking about what to say when you felt him sit down next to you.

‘So, what do you need?’ He asked while lighting up his cigarette.

‘Just don’t laugh at me, ‘kay?’ You said while closing your eyes.

He furrowed his brows in confusion, ‘Okay?’ He replied.

‘I need you to be my fake boyfriend.’ You quickly stated.

He looked at you dumbfounded and then proceeded to laugh.

‘You said you wouldn’t laugh, you bastard!’ You exclaimed and playfully hit his arm.

‘ ‘M sorry’ He met your eyes. ‘That punch hurt’ he held the place where you hit him.

‘Good.’ You replied. ‘So, will you help me or not?’

‘Why? Is it to make your ex jealous?’ He exhaled the smoke. ‘Never liked him, if I’m bein’ honest.’

‘Actually, the opposite.’ You took the cigarrete from him, took a drag and then placed it between his lips again. ‘He cheated on me and now he keeps stalking me to get back together. I’m so sick of him and I just don’t know what to do.. I just want him to fuck off.’ You looked at Theo for a response.

‘Fine.’

‘Wait, really?’ You asked excitedly.

‘Yeah, fuck that guy.’ He finished his cigarette and threw it on the ground. ‘We need some rules though.’

‘Alright.’ You paused to think about some. ‘How about we often hold hands, you kiss me on the cheek sometimes for the effect, and we can sometimes hang out in each others rooms, so no one would get suspicious. Of course we’d like study or some shit, but..’ You started rambling. ‘You get the idea.’ You added quietly.

‘You forgot about the most important one.’ He stated. ‘Don’t fall in love with me.’

‘Yeah, I think that’ll be easy considering your stupid face.’ You chuckled, but inside of you something twisted.

Don’t fall in love with me? Does he mean that, he knows he would never love you? Maybe that’s why he agreed? Cause he knows he won’t fall for you?

Am I this unlovable?

The next morning you were slowly making your way to the Great Hall for breakfast. On the outside you looked calm, but the inside was burning. With questions you couldn’t answer, with plans for what to do, with your hopes for finding someone good to love you back, with your growing attraction to Theo. You knew it was a bad idea, you knew you had a crush on him, but you’d rather hide that somewhere deep than admit it to yourself. You knew you were going to fall for him doing this, but if that’s what it takes for Patrick to leave you alone - then so be it. You can take the pain of Theo not reciprocating your feelings.

‘Hello, love.’ The voice from your nightmares spoke up next to you.

‘Fuck off, Patrick.’ You replied without even looking at the boy.

‘Oh, come on, can you finally stop playing this game and-‘

‘She told you to fuck off.’ You heard Theo’s voice on your other side and then his hand grabbed your waist to pull you closer.

Patrick’s face in that moment was going to be in your memory forever, he was so shocked, so defeated, so small. He looked between the two of you and scoffed.

‘We’ll see about that.’ He mumbled and walked away.

‘Thank you’ You looked up at Theo.

‘For what? I think that’s what boyfriend’s are supposed to do’ He winked at you and intertwined your hands.

‘You read a book or something to prepare for that role? Didn’t think of you as an academic type.’ You snickered.

‘I beg you pardon?’ He chuckled. ‘Am I that stupid to you?’

You waved your head from side to side and smirked at him.

‘Mm, yeah.’ You whispered to which he shook his head with a smile.

‘Come on, darlin’, we’re gon’ be late for breakfast.’

Darling.

For the next month you and Theo had gotten closer than you anticipated, but he was still too far for your liking. You wanted him closer, you wanted this to be a real relationship, but he wouldn’t want that.

“Theo does NOT date.”

Pansy’s words echoed in your ears every time you caught yourself staring at his messy hair. Or thinking about the way his fingers caressed the pages of a book, or the way his beauty spots were perfectly placed on his face, or the way he always knew what to say to you, or the way he cheerfully reacted to your insults and playful smacks on his arms.

‘When do you want to end this?’ He asked one night when you were studying for potions in his dorm.

The question caught you off guard and the air got stuck in your throat for a second.

‘I actually didn’t think about that part yet.’ You admitted, not taking your eyes off of your notes. ‘There is only a month of school left until holidays, so maybe until then? I’ll have those months for myself without Patrick bothering me and next year we’ll make up some excuse why it didn’t work out between us. Sounds good?’ The lack of emotion in your voice was weird for him.

‘Yeah.’ He whispered, his eyes lingering on your form. ‘Sounds good.’

He didn’t want to admit to himself that he started falling for you either. That’s why he asked about this, he didn’t think he could hold himself back much longer. Hold his feelings back.

‘Earth to Nott!!’ You smacked his arm with your notebook. ‘Do the bloody homework or I’ll feed you to my cat.’

‘Yes ma’am.’

There were moments where you thought he might feel the same. Like when he held your hand tighter than usual, when Patrick was passing by. Or when he kissed your forehead to calm you down when you were stressed before classes. Or the subtle smirks and glances between the two of you, when you weren’t next to each other. At first you thought no one would believe in your ‘relationship’, but surprisingly everyone didn’t have a clue it was fake. Were you both this good at pretending or did they just think you look nice together?

‘Probably the first one.’ You thought.

Soon there was only a week of school left and you didn’t want to think about what the end brings. You felt sadness, but you couldn’t show him that, you knew he didn’t feel the same. This was just temporary, he did what you asked for and now you owe him a favor. So now you had to let him go.

You met up near the Black Lake the day before going home. You were playing with your rings again and he was smoking a cigarette, just like in the beggining.

‘We’re still going to be friends?’ You asked.

‘If that’s what you want, darlin’ ‘ He replied, but deep inside he wanted to say no, to protect himself from whatever it was he felt towards you, it was too strong now.

‘Hmm.. No, not really.’ You muttered and then added, ‘I can’t stand looking at your hideous face much longer, but other than that, you’re fine to be around.’

He chuckled at your response.

‘Why are you always like this?’

‘What do you mean?’ You raised one of your eyebrows.

‘You know exactly what I mean.’

You chuckled to yourself, ‘My love language is bullying people.’

He processed your answer carefully and saw the way you stiffened. You didn’t realise you said that out loud.

‘Well…’ He took a deep breath. ‘You bully me. A lot.’

You didn’t want to meet his eyes so you shrugged and turned away, ‘Yeah, I guess I do.’ You whispered.

You heard Theo toss the cigarette on the ground and press his shoe on top of it. But what he did next, even Professor Trelawney couldn’t predict.

He turned you around and pressed his lips into yours, the taste of smoke and blueberry gum made its way into your mouth. His hands were holding your face on both sides, he didn’t want to take them off, scared you’d disappear if he did.

‘I thought you don’t date.’ You whispered with a smirk when you broke the kiss and pressed your foreheads together.

‘I don’t.’ He smiled. ‘I’m already taken.’

He pressed his lips to yours again and you felt like this moment could last forever.

‘By the way, you broke the rule.’ He mumbled.

‘Fuck your rule and fuck you, Nott.’ You replied making him smile to himself.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

© girasollake 2023

[seeingivy]

3:45 am

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

an: I can't find the request, but someone asked for a sukuna version of the 3:45 am chapter of roommate eren! here it is <3

“why do you have such a shit face?” 

you look up from your computer to find sukuna lingering by the door – fidgeting with the buttons of his collar and the end of his tie – as he spares you an irritated glance. it’s one that you return right back, before hunching back over the table and focusing back in on the lab report you were writing. 

“i’m talking to you.” 

sukuna shuffles over to your side, before crouching down till your faces are side by side, the breaths coming out of his nose tickling the bare skin on your shoulder. 

“i have such a shit face because i looked at you.” you mumble. 

sukuna sucks in a breath, almost like he’s trying hard to conceal his laughter, before he pulls closer, leaning his chin on your collarbone. the proximity makes it hard to ignore the sweet smell of his shampoo, which only gets worse when it’s accompanied by the sharp scent of his cologne. 

“is that any way…to repay my kindness?” sukuna questions. 

you roll your eyes, lightly jolting your shoulder up to get him to stop leaning on you. and he takes the hint just as much, as he draws up the chair at your side and pulls closer to see the molecules that you’re constructing on your computer. 

“you know, when you said you were going to do this favor for me, i wasn’t exactly expecting that you were going to hold it over my head this way.” 

ryomen sukuna was just an acquaintance – who happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time – and then he wasn’t. 

it’s because he has a moral compass. or because really, he feels guilty for not telling you earlier – especially when he’s seen other friends of his in the same position as you. so when he found you down on your luck – getting cheated on by your boyfriend, who you lived with, by your best friend of all people – he offered you the extra room that he had in his apartment. 

i’m lots of things, but i’m not a sadist. that’s what he said when you snuck out in the middle of the night, all of your things packed into a box that you subsequently emptied out into the free room that he offered. he had hell to pay from your ex-boyfriend the next day, the two of them jostling it out on the basketball court, before they both got reprimanded by the coach and decided to keep their distance 

sukuna isn’t a bad roommate. he isn’t exactly a good roommate per say either. because the sweet kindness that he offered you wore off around the second day and you realized that really – he was one of the most irritating people that’s every walked the surface of this earth. 

he brought over girls – tons of them. and when you asked him to keep it down, just so you could get some assignments done or study for an exam, he’d make it a point to bring multiple girls over – just to see the irritated expression on your face. 

he’d make up for it of course. because what he lacked in face-forward politeness, he made up for with his quiet gestures. like making you breakfast the morning of said exam – set with a matcha latte that he learned how to make special for you, because you don’t like the taste of coffee. or whenever he found you crying, he’d always let you rant it out – but not without giving you a few insults about how you had no standards here and there. 

“i think it’s dumb as fuck that you aren’t going tonight.” sukuna says. 

you slam the enter key on your computer. 

“your opinion has been noted.” you respond. 

“then come.” he grates. 

athletes at the university get to attend a formal at the end of each semester. it’s a nice dinner, accompanied with a horrible DJ, and a weird mix of sentimental speeches.

really, it was actually your idea of fun. only because it always felt nice to go to events like this. it was one of the few excuses you had to use the pretty dresses that you had in your closet, actually blow out your hair to make it look nice, and use the pretty glitters that your sister had given you for your birthday last year. 

and even more than that, it always felt nice to be shown off. because you’d meet tons of people who had heard all about you – the coach, the athletic trainers – who’d all give you sweet comments about how you were far too good for your boyfriend, who would then make some silly comment about how he never knew how he got you to talk to him in the first place. 

sukuna offered to accompany you. and also promised that he’d sneak some kind of contraband in so that the two of you could actually have fun – but it was something you denied. you denied most of the offers that he made that were similar to this, even though he was quite persistent, only because you knew that it wasn’t the right time. 

for better lack of words, you felt like a kicked dog. and you needed time to recover – before you could see your old best friends, or your ex-boyfriend, or really anyone outside the three circle rotation of people that you were able to tolerate. 

“i won’t have fun. and i don’t want to be a downer on the one night that’s supposed to be for you.” you respond. 

“well, you’re always a downer. so it won’t exactly make a difference.” sukuna responds. 

“thanks. that really makes me feel better, sukuna.” 

“i live to serve.” he responds, before bracing his hands against the table and pushing off. 

he spares you one last glance before stopping at the mirror near door, toussling with his hair and the piercings hanging from his ears. it’s a passing thought that you immediately banish – that panging in your chest at the thought of sukuna enjoying the night with a lanky girl on his arm. 

“you know, if you stare for any longer, you’re going to fall in.” you respond. 

“hilarious.” he deadpans. 

“who are you going with? i’ll have to make a phone call and let her know that she’s just going to have to find her own ride.” 

“no one.” 

you feign shock, pressing one of your hands to your chest – and really, trying to hide the secret delight that you’re reveling in. 

“wow. did hell freeze over?” 

“just didn’t feel like it. this type of shit is always kind of boring.” sukuna responds. 

you shrug. 

“i don’t know. i always thought it was kind of fun.” 

sukuna turns around, sparing you one last glance. 

“you know, i do recall that you would stand in the corner and talk to the moms all night. that sounds like my personal nightmare.” 

you smile. 

“well, that’s just because the moms don’t really like you. i however get along with them quite well.” 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“i’m sure that’s true. i’ll see you, okay? don’t sleep too late.” 

you give him a sly look. 

“worried about me?” 

“no, you just look ugly with eye bags.” 

--

you do not take sukuna’s advice. instead, you finish up your lab report and open a bottle of pink wine – to accompany you in your endeavors to watch ten things i hate about you. 

and it goes considerably well – until you hear a slamming pounding on your door at 3:45 am. you reach for the closest jacket, one of sukuna’s hoodies, before pulling it over your shorts and peeking out of the peephole. 

you swing the door open. 

“right. hi.” 

you pause. 

“megumi, right?” 

“yeah. just bringing sukuna back. he’s plastered.” 

you look down to where he’s gesturing to find sukuna slumped against the wall, offering you a half hearted smile from his bloodied nose. 

“right. well, thanks for bringing him back. what happened to his face?” 

“same as last time.” 

you roll your eyes, as megumi drags sukuna up by the arms. he stumbles in the air, leaning his weight against you, as you shoot megumi one last smile before slamming the door shut. 

the sweet smell of his shampoo and cologne is gone all together – now replaced with the mix of metallic blood, sweat, and the faintest smell of beer. 

“sit down, sukuna. i’m going to clean you up.” you mumble, trying to stabilize him in the air to stand by himself. 

“y/n?” he asks, before stumbling in the air. 

you reach forward, trying to brace his fall as he looks down at you – suddenly somewhat awake as his face breaks out into a small smile. he reaches forward, bringing one of his bloodied knuckles to cup the side of your face. 

“y/n.” he whispers. 

you swallow the block in your throat in your stomach. 

“don’t try to sweet talk me. i’m mad at you.” you respond, dragging him towards the center before leaning him against the kitchen counter. 

you reach down to the bottom of the sink, setting a glass of water aside and pulling out the little box of first aid that you had put together once you got here and put it at his side. you open up the neatly organized compartments, pulling out the gauze and the alcohol wipes, before turning back to him. 

“don’t be mad, princess.” he mumbles. 

you feel your cheeks burn. 

“don’t call me that.” 

“isn’t that what you are? my little brat?” 

you scoff. 

“are you trying to insult me?” you ask, reaching for his left hand first and swiping the area clean. 

“you have no…no idea what i think about you.” 

you reach for the wrappings, tucking them in against the callousness of his hands, as he looks down, locking his fingers in with yours. and then he leans forward, snaking one of his hands around your neck. 

you quickly shuffle yourself out of his embrace, before lightly pushing him back. he seems to take the cue, before you lean forward again, slightly hesitant this time, as you wipe the area around his nose. 

“why’d you fight with him this time?” 

sukuna scrunches his face up – irritated at the mention of the past few hours. 

“nothing he didn’t fucking deserve.” 

“right. last time, he missed a three pointer and you socked him in the face. so let me guess, he was two hours late today and you just got carried away?” 

sukuna scoffs. 

“he was running his mouth.” 

your curiosity has piqued. 

“about?” 

“you.” sukuna slurs. 

you smile. 

“so glad to see you had sound judgment tonight, sukuna.” you respond, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

sukuna leans forward, his lips a little too dangerously close as he rests his hands at the sides of your waist. 

“he brought that stupid bitch with him.” 

“sukuna.” you warn. 

“he brought. that stupid bitch with him. and he had the nerve to stand there and talk shit about you.” sukuna responds. 

you reach for the glass and place it in his hands, offering him a smile. 

“just drink the water to sober up a little bit. it’s late.” 

sukuna gives you a glare, as you let go of the glass, only for him to spill the entirety of it on you with his shaky hands. he barely registers that he did it – and you suppose that it’s really your fault for trusting him to hold the glass on his own – as you swing your arm around his torso and lead him towards his room. 

he flops onto the bed as you rummage through his drawers, pulling out a pair of pants and shirt for him as you turn back around. 

“sukuna. get up and change and you can sleep all you want.” you coax. 

he responds with an unintelligible noise – further muffled by the fact that he’s face down on the bed – as you reach for one of his arms and pull. he somewhat works with you, sitting up as he wobbles, and reaches for the tie around his neck and tosses it aside. 

his first struggle comes with the buttons. because he can’t seem to coordinate his fingers well enough to push the buttons through the holes – and obviously, with the short temper he has, gives up in all but three seconds. 

“help.” 

you roll your eyes as he stands up, leaning against you as you reach forward, and slowly unbutton down the length of the shirt. 

“you drive me crazy, you know that?” sukuna whispers. 

you ignore the comment as you pull the shirt down the length of his arms – exposing the tattoos that you’ve always wondered about, that peek out of the sleeves of his shirt or neck. you hand him the shirt, which he tosses aside. 

“too hot.” 

“okay, well. just put the pants on and then i’ll leave. i’ll turn around.” you respond. 

you turn around, twisting the rings on your fingers as you wait for him to finish, only to me met what could possibly be your worst nightmare. 

“y/n. wait, fuck. you have to help.” he whines. 

you turn around to look at him, only to find that he’s still wearing his pants. 

“what?” 

“the button. i can’t…” 

you feel your throat dry. 

“sukuna. i can’t…take your pants off for you. just try harder.” 

“just fucking help me.” 

you shake off the nervousness, as you bend down on your knees, trying to squint through the dark light to find the button. except before you can fully do it, sukuna reaches for your biceps and somewhat harshly pulls you up. 

“wh-” 

you look up to find him swallowing hard, before he talks. 

“it’s like you’re trying to make this difficult for me. don’t get on your fucking knees to do it.” sukuna responds. 

“how else am i supposed to see it?” 

sukuna doesn’t respond, as you shake your head and feel down the length of his pants, before you find the button. and surely enough, it’s hard to push but you get it after a second try, and turn around as sukuna switches the pants he’s wearing. 

and you almost make your sweet escape before he tangles his fingers around your wrist and pulls back. his fingers are fast on your waist as he turns you around, somewhat toppling your balance so you’re leaning against his chest – and stuck in his embrace. 

“stay.” he whispers.  

“you are so fucking drunk, sukuna.” 

“stay, please. i don’t want to sleep without you.” 

you shake your head. 

“my hoodie is wet. i have to change.” 

sukuna shakes his head. 

“are you wearing anything underneath? you know i wouldn’t mind either way.” sukuna whispers. 

“a tank top, but really. i have to go back to –” 

sukuna’s fingers are fast – since he apparently has enough coordination to help you with this – as he pulls it over your head, before setting his hands back around your waist. the way he’s looking down at you, eyes wide, makes you shiver as he leans forward, and presses his fingers against your collarbone. 

“you have a tattoo.” sukuna whispers. 

you laugh. 

“so do you.” 

and it makes your skin shiver, when sukuna snakes his hands underneath your shirt, leaning forward to press his lips against the inked skin on your shoulder, unable to contain your surprise. the tufts of his hair tickle your neck as you lean back, placing your hands on the sides of his face. 

“you’re drunk.” 

sukuna pauses. 

“is that the only reason you’re saying no?” 

you shake your head. 

“go to bed. you don’t even know what you’re fuckking saying right now.” 

“just stay with me.” 

sukuna releases his grasp, instead reaching for both of your hands and squeezing at your fingers. 

“please. don’t leave me alone.” 

“okay, okay. let’s just go sleep. we’ll talk in the morning.” 

--

you wake up to the most haunting sight known to man – sukuna hovering over you. 

“jesus fuck.” 

sukuna laughs as you press your palms into the sockets of your eyes, pushing as hard as can as you very quickly remember the events of last night – of the shivering feeling of sukuna’s lips on your neck and the horribly embarrassing moan you let out when he did. 

“oh god.” 

you open your eyes to find sukuna still hovering – an almost too excited grin painted on his face – his silver necklace hanging in the air.

“give me permission this time.” sukuna states. 

you widen your eyes. 

“i beg your pardon?” 

sukuna snakes one of his fingers under your waist, using the other to trace the outline of your tattoo again, as he leans closer to you, the distance dangerously close considering the events of last night. 

“give me permission.” sukuna asks. 

“you…” 

sukuna rolls his eyes, before leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“if it wasn’t clear, i think about you very often. irritatingly enough, i’m actually very fond of you. so much so, that i turned down that fucking barista from the coffee shop last night and went to that fucking party by myself..” 

“marie?” 

“is that her name?” sukuna asks. 

you bite down on your cheek. 

“i also gave someone a beating for you and got suspended from playing for two weeks, so just give me fucking permission now.” 

“you got what?” 

sukuna leans down, resting his chin against your bicep, as he eyes you again, before pressing a kiss to the skin. 

“give me permission.” 

“you’ve already kissed me twice.” 

sukuna shakes his head. 

“cmon. i need to hear it.” 

you shake your head, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that your heart is pounding in your chest as you look down at him, brown eyes peering into yours 

“um. okay? ….yes. or yeah, whatever, i –” 

all you hear is an excited chuckle before his lips are against yours, hands almost rough around your neck as he pulls you up, till your straddling him in his lap, hands secured around his neck. and you can tell that he’s enjoying himself far too much – from the way he smiles into the kiss, before pressing three, four, and five kisses to your cheek. 

you fight the urge to smile at him fully as you lean forward, cupping his face in your hands and eyeing the cut across the bridge of his nose. 

“have i repaid your kindness yet?” you murmur. 

sukuna pauses, before leaning in. 

“no, i think i need a little bit more.”

--

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[xxblairexxss]

Who are you?

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff, I think?

Word count : 2.4k

Requested!

Part 2 Part 3

You got into an accident on your way to work with a guy who drove Ferrari Pista 488 with the number 16. Weird thing was that everyone kept calling his name as if he was a celebrity.

Just a light one. Haven’t proofread!

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"The audacity of him! And then what did you say?"

Your mom thought your decision to accept an internship in Monaco out of all countries was solely because you could talk to your best friend, Linda, without having a problem with the time difference. It just happened to be on your side, though. Instead of listening to her story about her stupid ex before you went to bed, you had to get ready, so she had become your favourite podcast to listen to on your way to work.

"I said nothing." She winced, even before you screamed.

"What?! You let him disrespected you like that! Oh my God! Why?! I would have punched —“ The sound of a car horn kicked through your AirPods, taking over the voice of your friend. There wasn’t enough time for you to react when the black car came approaching so fast, cringing along the sound of a car honk that seemed to be echoing within the small town that you would have thought it would send you straight to heaven. It turned out your mind wasn’t ready for today to be your last day on earth, so you tried to run across the road and fell flat against the friction.

You were expecting to wake up surrounded by clouds, just like how the cartoons pictured the afterlife, until you felt a touch on your shoulder. "Fuck! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Are you—"

"I would have punched you in the face." You muttered, what was supposed to be something directed towards Linda’s ex boyfriend.

"Woah, okay. I’m really sorry. Here," He offered a hand and pulled you up; that was when the pain hit your nerves, making you bend over and wince. 

"Ow! What is wrong with you?!" The man was pushed away and staggered at the outburst. "It was a red light. Are you blind?"

"Okay, I’m really sorry; that was totally my fault. Let me take you to the hospital."

You retracted your arm from his hand relentlessly, limping your way to the roadside. "Leave me alone."

"You are bleeding!" He argued and tried to offer his hand for you to hold as he was you struggled to walk.

"I know! I have eyes."

"You need to treat those cuts. Just let me take you to the hospital."

You tried to hobble away from the man, but the pain had set a limit to your pace. "I don’t even know you. Go away."

"Okay, my name is—" 

"Charles! Everything good?" He looked up, surprised to hear his name being called out so sudden, and gave a thumbs up back to the waiter of the restaurant.

"You heard him. I’m Charles. You have a witness there," You looked back at the direction he pointed with his chin. “if I do something bad to you. Can you get in my car so I can take you to the hospital now? I’m kinda in a rush."

"If you are rushing, then you can just go. Don’t let me hold you up." Charles shut his eyes, tilting his head back. He knew he had misspoken because you were going to say yes before he mentioned about time. "Okay, okay! I’m not. I’m not in a rush at all. So, please, get in the car."

"Are you sure? Cause I can just —“

"No. I mean, yes. I’m very sure." He extended his hand, which you finally held while you limped your way to the car.

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This was your second tissue, which you had been pressing on your cuts. You just found out your chin was bleeding as well when you saw the reflection on his window.

"Do you need water?" He twisted open the mineral water bottle and offered it to you. You were so quiet, it made him feel restless. He would rather hear you curse him out than this eerily silent. "The hospital is 5 minutes away. Does it hurt a lot?"

"It’s not that serious. Don’t worry." You turned from looking out the window, eyes scanning through the buildings of the city, towards him, frowning in suspicion. "How did he know you? The waiter."

"He has seen me a lot. It’s a small town, after all. Are you a student?" He saw you were carrying a bag of laptop with a few files, which he had placed at the back of the car, so you were obviously not a tourist. It left him with two answers. Either you were a student or you just moved here, because if you had been living here for a while, you wouldn’t ask the question. He wasn’t saying everyone would know him, but they would at least aware of who he was.

"No, I’m doing my internship."

"How long has it been?" He queried.

"2 weeks, I think." You looked out the window as he drove into the hospital area. "You can just drop me here. I’ll be fine."

"No, it’s okay. You need help from a local, so that would be me. Can you walk?" His seatbelt retracted as he clicked on the unhook button and helped you register your name and details at the registration counter while you were asked to just sit and wait.

"Hi, Charles!"

"Oh my God! It’s Charles!"

"Are you Charles Leclerc? What are you doing here?"

It felt like you must have had a permanent wrinkles in between your brows, as you had been frowning for minutes whenever people called out his name. Sure, it was a small town, but did that mean everyone knew everyone to this point?

"Are they your friends?" He leaned in, moving his ear closer to hear your question.

"No, they are not my friends. They have seen me a lot too." The way he replied was so nonchalant, but it still didn’t make any sense to you.

"That doesn’t really make any sense." You commented, still frowning.

"It makes sense in Monaco." He looked away and bit his lips, trying to hold his chuckle.

The medical staff explained to you every cream and medicine you needed to take and when it was needed, while Charles joined in as well, listening as if it had anything to do with him.

"Can we get your phone number so we can call for a follow-up treatment on your sprained wrist?"

"Oh, my Monaco phone number? Give me a second." You just happened to find out that your phone was badly damaged in the accident right when you tried to turn it on. It probably had to do with you trying to stop your fall without realising it was in your hand, so the screen was cracked and it was just a black screen. You were forgetful and had written your new phone number in your notes so you wouldn’t get charged for accepting calls from a foreign country, but it was impossible to check your notes if your phone couldn’t even turn on.

"Use mine. If anything, just call me." Charles stepped in and wrote down his phone number, leaving you stunned. "And here’s my card. I’ll pay for everything."

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"Thank you for sending me home. Oh, my phone!" He had helped you bring your stuff all the way to your apartment, though you had assured him that you could carry your own things. Just when you were about to take the last thing of yours in his possession, he moved his hand away before you could take it. "I need my phone back?"

"It doesn’t even work."

"Okay? But that doesn’t mean I’m going to throw it away." Charles brought the phone higher when you tried to snatch it, smiling like an idiot when he saw you were glaring at him.

"I’ll get it fixed and give it back to you."

"I don’t need your help anymore. Give it back! I’ll get it fixed myself." You disagreed, refusing to owe him even more, but he stepped back and slipped the phone into his back pocket.

"You still need me for your follow-up treatment. You used my phone number, remember? I’ll see you in a few days once it’s fixed. Don’t forget to put the cream and your medicine." He walked away after giving you a nod out of curtesy.

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"Was he hot?"

Though your phone was broken, you still wouldn’t miss a daily update from your best friends. After explaining everything, including every single detail of what happened earlier, Linda’s main focus was to ask that. Not your sprained wrist, not your cuts—nothing about you, but all about the man you had told her about.

You rolled your eyes and continued to spread the cream on the cut on your leg, still engaging in the conversation from the video call on your Macbook. "He was cute. You know, apparently everyone here knows everyone. Crazy, isn’t it? Everyone kept on calling his name ‘Charles! Charles!’ as if he were some kind of celebrity, but it was actually very common. I was shook because—"

"Wait, what did you say?" She intervened.

"I said I was shook."

"No, before that. What was his name?" Linda asked, seemingly typing something on her laptop.

"Charles? Charles Lec something?"

"Oh my God! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!" She shrieked, making you jump and scream along.

"What the heck?" You bawled as she started talking nonsense. "Slow down! What are you trying to say?"

"Is this the guy that helped you?" She brought the phone and switched to the back camera so you could see the picture on her laptop.

"Yeah? Why is his face everywhere in the Google images?" That was weird. Though you were treated like a celebrity in Monaco, why would you put out your pictures on the Internet in public, with not just one but more than what seemed to be normal for someone who just lived in Monaco?

"He’s a fucking F1 driver, you idiot! Oh my God, you are so dumb, Y/N!" Linda called out, feeling frustrated for her friend, who had to be the smartest in class but not street-smart.

"What?! But he told me that everyone knew him because they just saw him a lot." You argued back and tried to make it make sense to your friend, who seemed to be so disappointed.

"Yeah? Because he’s driving for Ferrari and he’s a Monegasque? Obviously, everyone has seen him a lot. You are so dumb."

"2 weeks in this new country, and I have already humiliated myself. I’m just going to ask him to leave my phone in front of the door so I don’t have to see him again, right?" You don’t think you could look at him in the eye anymore because you were so embarrassed that you might need 2 to 3 months to move on.

"I don’t know. To me, it sounds like he wanted to get to know you."

"Cut the crap, Linda."

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"I can’t just leave your phone out here." Charles came and rang your doorbell a few days later. You had been yelling behind the door, trying to make him go so you wouldn’t have to see him again, but he just wouldn’t let it pass.

"Just leave it there!" You replied back the other side of the wood door.

"Are you hurt?" He replied back, knocking on your door this time.

"No!"

"Okay, then why can’t you come out?" Charles could have just done what you asked him to do, but he wanted to see how your cuts were doing, if they were still bleeding.

And he also wanted to see you because he just felt so.

"Fine, I’m leaving it here. Make sure to not leave it outside for too long. Someone might steal it away." He remarked before walking away, knowing you had been peeking from the peep hole.

"Finally!" The door pulled open after you waited for two minutes, giving him enough time to take the elevator and left.

Until you saw him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He had this smirk on his face, as if he expected you to be dumb enough and fell in his trick, which you actually did.

"Finally what?" He strode closer, arms still crossed, as he looked down on your legs to see the cut had started to heal. "Hm?" Charles carefully tilted your face up to see your chin and nodded when it wasn’t as red and bleeding as it was a few days ago. "Did I do something wrong? Why can’t you just come out?"

You grinned and walked back into your apartment, pushing the door shut with your body. "Okay, you can go home now. I’ll call the hospital to ask them to change the phone number back to mine. Thank you!”

"Wait! Why are you acting so weird?" He blocked the door and tilted his head, trying to catch your eyes because you had been looking everywhere but at him.

"Why didn’t you tell me who you are? Here I thought everyone in Monaco would call out people’s names as if they were celebrities, and you actually turned out to be one?" Your tone went higher while you pointed your hand at him, as if he were an artefact in a museum and you were a museum guide.

"I’m not exactly a celebrity. Just an athlete. How did you know?" He asked in a very light way, like this whole situation was fun for him.

"My friend showed me your picture, and I still didn’t trust her, so I went on Google myself and typed…" You pressed your lips, squeezing your eyes shut, because you knew you were just going to humiliate yourself even more if he found out about this.

"And typed in what?" Charles repeated your last sentence.

"Charles Monaco." Your hand covered your eyes instantly while he burst out laughing. He would have left with a bruised nose if only you could slam the door in his face right now, but you wouldn’t want to be charge with assaulting the famous guy in this town. "Yeah, whatever. Can you step back because I’m trying to close the door?"

"So, that’s it?" I nearly hit you with my car, sent you to the hospital, fixed your phone, and that’s it?"

You furrowed your brows. "What else do you want?"

"How about I give you a tour around the town? I’ve lived here all my life. No one knows every corner of this town except me." He rested his hand on the door when he saw you try to close it again. "Are you sure you want to miss this one chance to be with Charles Monaco?"

"You are so annoying!"

“Your next appointment is in two days. I’ll pick you up at 10 a.m." He walked away, still wearing the cocky smile that made you want to punch him so bad.

"I can go on my own. I’m not going to open the door for you next time!" You stood outside the hallway, shouting back as he went even further.

"Then I’m gonna barge into your apartment. I’m Charles Monaco; I can do whatever I want."

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @xcinnamongirl @boiohboii @formula1mount @judespoision @alwaysclassyeagle @scenesofobx @mrsmaybank13

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

[muldermuse]

An Unlikely Hero (ex boyfriend!Billy Butcher x reader)

this is going to be a multi part series!!! i love exboyfriend!butcher and he is on my mind constantly. if u would like to read more about him here’s some more posts! if you wanna talk about him pls send me your thoughts ❤️ dividers by @saradika ❤️

part one: the first date

OR

the first time you meet Billy Butcher

You swore to yourself that this was the last Tinder date you’d subject yourself to. Last week, you matched and met with Jack who had a Homelander sleeve tattoo and cried to you about how hard it was to be a ‘true American’ nowadays.  The week before that, it was Shay who seemed sweet but kept trying to ply you with drinks and invite you back to his place (he bragged that his ‘folks were out of town’, which would be impressive if you were a hell of a lot younger than you actually are). This week’s date is named Harry and he’s just not right for you. You thought it over texts but as soon as you sat down with him tonight; it was confirmed. It’s not even like you have a great previous relationship as a point for comparison, all romantic love has been fleeting and, with how things are going currently, you imagine it always will be.

It's a few hours later and Harry’s suddenly a lot drunker than you. You’ve moved from the overpriced restaurant to your favourite bar. The drinks are questionable in that they’re both incredibly cheap and very strong. You grab two stools at the bar which is overwise empty, apart from one man nursing a whiskey. You’re sure Harry’s drunker than you because he’s currently sobbing into his craft beer about how he hasn’t felt a connection with anyone since his ex-girlfriend, who left him 3 months ago for a co-worker.

“Like, you’re nice y’know. You seem like a nice girl” you try not to recoil at the phrase “but my ex? She was great. There’s no one else who’s ev-hic-ever been like her and there never will be”. The guy sat next to you at the bar mutters a “fuckin’ ell” under his breath as he gestures towards the bartender for another neat whiskey. His accent is completely out of place in this local dive bar; he sounds European. No trace of an american accent so you consider that he could be a tourist who’s wandered into a bar looking for a cold drink and some respite.

You try not to smirk at the utterance and tune back into what Harry’s saying, “I think we’ve both just gone through the motions tonight, don’t you agree? I can tell you’re not really into me and to be honest, I’m not into you”. You kind of admire his candor because he’s right, you’re not into him in the slightest but the next thing out of his mouth quickly dispels any misplaced respect you held for him. “I’ve been real lonely since she left though…maybe you could come back to my place-hic-she’s uh…some of her stuff is still there but there’s not a lot of it in the bedroom”. He’s that plastered that what he assumed would be a casual hand slide up your thigh becomes a full push, hurtling you into the whiskey sipping man next to you. You fall into his chest, it’s strong and kind of feels like slamming into a wall. 

“Right, tha’s fuckin’ it” the potential tourist speaks and it’s only when he stands up that you realise how broad he is. He’s tall with thick black hair and the beard to match. His outfit is seemingly prepared for a spectrum of weathers with a Hawaiian shirt clashing with a thick overcoat. He’s older than you, definitely older but absolutely attractive. More attractive than anyone you’d seen on Tinder or, probably, ever in your life. “You alright there darlin’?” his dark eyes bore into yours as you nod and cough out a meek ‘yes’. You silently curse yourself, the first thing you say to this strong man makes you sound like a small frightened mouse.

“’M jus’ gonna get rid of your little pal there and then I’ll buy ya a drink- alright?” his hand rubs your bare arm and sends a flurry of goosebumps across your skin. The whole interaction feels more charged than anything you’ve had before with another human, you wonder if he’s feeling it too and pray that he is.

“Oh nice one man, I’ll have uh…another craft” Harry gestures towards the tap, completely oblivious to the situation in front of him

“All you’re fuckin’ gettin’ cunt is a helpin’ hand out that fuckin’ door. Now, I’ll ask ya politely one last fuckin’ time…fuck off” he elongates the 3 letter word. A comically confused look spreads across Harry’s face. “’M on a fucking date here man and she’s coming back to mine, aren’t you?”

“No” you quickly deadpan, shaking your head at the still unnamed man.

“There’s your answer then cunt, off ya fuck” 

“Butcher- no fuckin’ blood on my bar this time man” the bartender shouts whilst idly checking his phone. Butcher? Is that the guy’s name? 

Harry stands up, pushing out his chest which, if anything, only exaggerates how small he is in comparison. “I’ve bought her meal, paid for her drink and I’m go-hic-gonna take her back to my place and fuck her”. He finishes his sentence in Butcher’s face. Whilst you see a flicker of fear cross Harry’s expression; Butcher’s look borders on hysterical. 

“Alright then big fella, I’ll tell ya what’s gonna happen” he slams his hand down on Harry’s shoulder, his eyes now boring into his. “You’re gonna fuck off back to your shitty little home, grab some lube, cry and wank to ya heart’s content about your ex who is probably ridin’ some big fat fuckin’ dick right now-yeah?” Butcher nods as if Harry’s going to agree with him.

Your date goes to interrupt but Butcher presses a finger to his quaking lips before he can start, “what’s not gonna happen, my sad little mate, is that you’re going to fuck her. She’s hadta listen to your fuckin’ whinin’ about your ex all night whilst you’ve fuckin’ insulted this gorgeous woman. So, get out before I throw ya through the fuckin’ window”. Harry’s lost for words, he doesn’t make eye contact with you as you stand silently behind Butcher. You see tears brimming in his eyes as he smacks $20 on the bar top. 

“Fuckin’ old asshole” Harry spits as he shoves past the pair of you.

Butcher smirks at the remark, watching the door swing shut behind Harry before turning to you. “Right darlin’, whatcha havin’?” 

It’s the best date you’ve ever been on and it’s not even a real date. You finally got his full name. Billy Butcher. Your heart races just to say it. He’s from London but has been in the States for a while. He asks all about you and you surprisingly find you’ve got a lot in common. He’s funny, charming and really fucking exciting- you have to admit. By the third drink, the chat goes from conversational to more flirty. 

“The bartender said ‘this time’, do you do this a lot? Love saving a damsel in distress? Are you a hero, Billy Butcher?” you smirk at him and he returns it back to you. There’s lust in his eyes and you see him take your appearance in for what feels like the upteenth time since you sat down.

As he goes to speak, the bell rings for last orders and he takes your hand to help you off the bar stool. You down the remnants of your drink together and he puts his arm around you and escorts you out of the bar.

You don’t want it to end, he lights a cigarette and you thank any higher deity for the extra thinking seconds it gives you. He speaks before you get chance, “Will ya let me walk you home darlin’? Swear on my mum’s life I won’t try any funny business”. He holds his hand out like he’s making a scouts honour. Honestly, you do anything to spend a bit more time with him so you smile, link your arm with his and pull him down the quiet streets.

The air makes you feel drunker than you are. If you were sober, there is no way you’d be giggling like a school girl at everything this man is saying, yet here you are. Your arms are linked and you’re resting your head on his shoulders as you tell him about your horrific dating history. Everytime he laughs and accuses you of exaggerating you say, “Billy Butcher, I would never ever lie to you”. You say it because his name feels so fun sliding off your tongue. You barely see anyone on your walk home and the sound of your shared laughter fills the empty streets.

As you turn down your street, you wish you lived miles away so you could keep walking together for hours. Your stomach drops at the thought that you’ll never see him again. Which, you completely realise, is fucking stupid. This stranger threatened your date to leave but he also made you feel safe and laugh harder than you have in months. You pull his stride to a stop outside your house. It feels like some awful hallmark romcom or trashy romance novel.

You thank him for escorting you home and he turns down a nightcap in your house as “it’s not gentlemanly on the first date”. He shoots you a wicked grin again as he says, “my mum would be spinnin’ in her grave darlin’”.

You try not to let the heartbreak from that sentence show on your expression. “You’re a gentleman, Billy Butcher?”

“The best one around darlin’. I’ll prove it tomorrow when I take ya out for lunch”

A brief flare of anger hits you, “yeah, I hear that all the fucking time. The lunch never happens, I don’t see you again but then we bump into each other at the store and you apologise and say you’ll be in touch which, of course, you never will be”. You regret it as soon as you stop speaking.

Before you can apologise, he grabs a sharpie out of his coat pocket, takes your hand and scribbles down his number. “There, alright? You call me at any time gorgeous and I swear, I’ll fuckin’ answer and come runnin’”

His kiss to your cheek is soft yet restrained. “You’ll forget about me Billy Butcher, I know it”.

“S’not fuckin’ possible, darlin’”. He says goodnight and walks down your street. A plume of cigarette smoke trailing after him.

He keeps his word.

40 minutes later, and after one final glass of wine, you call him.

He answers on the first ring and says your name. He tells you where to meet tomorrow and what time to get there.

You hope he can always keep his promises.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - So Many GREAT Kisses!

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

(Please notice I am now using 6 dots in all ellipses because according to Taiwanese BL that's how we queers roll. Who am I to argue?)

Sept 2024 Week 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) ep 2 of 12 - A most excellent glow up. And it’s still a great show. And I cannot wait to see the many different faces of War. Bring on the Leverage of One action-packed mess. I'm waiting.  

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) ep 9 of 12 - I’m gonna say this because it drives me crazy. Why are boys in BL, when out and about the countryside, always dressed inappropriately for Thailand? If it’s hot, takeoff your damn jacket. I don’t mean to be crass or crazy or whatever. But don’t wear a jacket when it’s 90° with 90% humidity. In Thailand, jackets are for malls. Meanwhile, I’m an extrovert and that still seemed like an exhausting trip. Although, I suppose they didn’t show all the drive time in the van, when everyone is asleep.

Meanwhile, why are the sides so frustrating in this show? Authentic friends-to-lovers is always a slog. Finally a kiss! And a decent one.

New character? Aw! Hi Yu!!!! Gosh Putter is so cute.

Where were we? Oh yes, Beer is now heartbroken. Always the great fear in F2L that the friendship will be destroyed as a result. And it’s a decent fear. 

On a completely different note, I cannot help but wonder when somebody’s chue len is Beer, if that is because beer was involved in their conception. Like, it’s the name you give your "oops baby" from that drunken night at the club. Don’t mind me. I’m just over here in the corner being crass.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 8 of 12 - That was one of the cutest wake up sequences ever depicted. Utterly adorable. And now he’s blind again? Oh my God this is such a soap opera, I can’t even. Meanwhile, wicked ice prince finally made his move. Gah! Why aren’t we getting more of this couple? I always love the sides best with this production house.

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 10 of 12 - I love a hard fraught game of badminton. Even though we actually didn’t see play. YoIng claiming was so cute!!! And their shower kiss was v hot. Yay little show! Also cute use of the punishment trope!

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 3 of 12 - The weight upon the shoulders of our idiot good guy kidnapper continues to pile up. So does the affection. The dude playing Q has sanpaku eyes. Cool. He’s not a particularly good actor though. Rough because everyone around him is giving their very best.

The problem is. I'm noticing. I shouldn't be noticing all the talent trying so hard. That usually means there is something wrong with the story, or there was something wrong on the set.

I don't know what to say at this juncture except I have the sinking suspicion this might not actually be a good show. (Covers head and cowers. Don't hate me.) I'd loved to be proved wrong, but my faith is GMMTV is only about 50% these days. And it probably should be lower.

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 6 of 10 - I was so confused by how we suddenly got on a trip together, that I went back and re-watched the previous installment. And it still isn’t explained. So I have no idea why our leads are on a trip but apparently that’s the next trope to hit. I also have no idea how they're suddenly boyfriends. I’m just generally confused by this episode. It’s like an alt reality. We skipped over all of the stuff where they actually got into a relationship. In general I wasn’t wild about this episode.

The Trainee (Sun YT) ep 12fin - The most realistic thing about this show is that everybody is everybody else’s ex on any given set. I feel that in my bones. Or do I mean boner?

Frankly, both actors look better after a glow up and I guess pretending to be more their actual ages suits them? Considering what was actually done to invoke youth (a lot of the shine and gloss) aging them was an anti-glow up. A great mattification? Well...... this was a somewhat lackluster finale. (Thank you, thank you, the pun was unplanned. It's a gift.)

I don’t know. I guess I wanted to see Jane suffer? Work HARD to get the kid he abandoned back? I would’ve liked to have seen Ryan a little bit more competent and capable and his job. Maybe dating someone else. But I also do not want any more episodes. This was more than enough. So instead no separation, just boyfriends and a montage of their lives together, getting new and better jobs, moving in together, being supportive and sweet, etc... LOOK: It’s never a good sign when I immediately want to rewrite the show that I just saw.

In conclusion:

A story about a group of interns at a commercial video production company. While I genuinely love OffGun, I’m not convinced this was a good vehicle for them. Is it terrible for me to say, I miss their PickRome days? I don’t think they’ve ever had rolls that suited them better. Still, theirs was the best storyline in this ensemble piece masquerading as a BL, although they still fumbled the ending. Thus, I enjoyed about a 1/3 of it as much as possible, and 2/3 of it less than conceivable. 7/10 and I seriously considered dropping it to a 6/10 so don't push me.

Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sun iQIYI) ep 1 of 15 - Not gonna lie I was very skeptical. But I like it fine. Better than I expected because it’s been changed just enough. But it does need to stay changed. I don’t know what I’m trying to articulate here but…... I guess we’ll see.

Live in Love (Sun Gaga) ep 3 of 5 - It’s cute in a weird disjointed way. I’m enjoying it enough, I guess. I do like how forthright and direct Kla is. 

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Ah. Bully romance. My old frenemy. Of course making this office based means +10 for workplace harassment. Well well well. This will be red flag party town I see. How VERY old school yaoi. It’s all very Cdrama CEO = dudes in suits walking on parquet (minus all the gay sex of course.) The jumping around between times and unfinished scenes is very strange. Is this Starhunter chaos only applied to a timeline?

Imma say this so they hear it at the back. YOU HAVE TO CHANGE THE HAIR. If you do time jumps: change. the. hair. It's the easiest and best clue if you aren't going to apply a filter or other cinematography tricks. JUST CHANGE THE DAMN HAIR STYLE.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) eps 9-10 of 12 - And now we all start using six dots in our……? A new coded way to indicate that one is into BL? I did think we were in a slight mire with ep 9, too much teacher filler. Not enough time spent with our boys. Meanwhile, sports day. Pouty Baby utilizing the power of Ge, in front of all of the classmates who do not realize how hard he is flirting and activating babygirl = one of the greatest things ever to happen on my screen. Essentially this was a version of the claiming trope, only nobody knew it but the two of them. Fucking genius. Yes, I watched it multiple times. Then babygirl is injured, the carrying and the flirting!!!! Gah!

I don’t mean to trivialize the show, but this is me and I can trivialize everything even something as brilliant as this. But that conversation about history at the beginning of ep 10...... Was that about topping and bottoming? Because it sure seemed that way.

And then...... Possibly the best only one bed trope twist ever?

This show is so fucking amazing.

And I am so worried about the end.

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 7 of 10 - I love the kinkyness of our baby boy’s fantasy. Where he is the gift and his boyfriend is in uniform. Very nice. Thank you Japan. Never one to let kinky dogs lie. Also, the premise continues: one half thinks that they are already boyfriends and acts like it, and the other half is still trying to become a boyfriend. It’s absurd in that way that only Japanese miscommunication extraordinaire can be absurd. Also could Kyosuke be any more under his boy’s thumb? 

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 1-2 of 10 eps - Shiba is a top lawyer, angular aggressive bespectacled workaholic cat-type (Kitten? Babygirl? Tsundere? Some unholy combination of all 3?) I am reminded I should be more considerate of my potted plants. OMG the teasing and the little tongue sticking out. Haruto is such a flirt. I love this dynamic. What fun! Manic pixie dream boy but MAKE HIM EVIL! Or very high? Or a grifter? I have absolutely no idea what’s going on. But I’m enjoying it. It’s very...... very

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) ep 7 of 12 - Oh! Good kiss. Smart to have the younger character initiate. I also like that he put a stop to it and then went and had a long conversation with a friend about it. Cautious boy. Also shows how in control of the situation Sea is becoming. It works for this BL since he has the stronger personality. I don't care what the characters say, this is about Sea becoming a rock for Neil.

But the secondary couple is actually winning this show. I want so much more of them. 

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 8fin - I’m not sure that blackmailing and entrapment, especially of your ex, necessarily justifies cheating. Plus I never like it when it’s gays against gays. But what did I expect from this show? This whole series was basically Korea’s version of messy gay. If you liked Only Friends you’ll probably enjoy this bullshit. And they were quite pretty. I, however, am monumentally displeased. 4/10 FATALLY FLAWED but still, basically, BL, however…... do we want to support this kind of behavior?

KOREA PLEASE GIVE US A NEW PROPER BL!! WHERE ARE YOU? WE ARE SAD AND LOST WITHOUT YOU.

It's like now they discovered boys can kiss they can't be happy.

It's airing but...

The Hidden Moon (Sat WeTV) ep 1 of 10 - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger). A man is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai being converted into a café. He sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, falls in love with one of them. Was substantially recast. I loved IFYLITA except the ending so I think I'll let this one run it's course you can tell me if it's work tracking down... if they managed to land it. I have my doubts.

Happy of the End (Japan Tues Gaga) - A boy is disowned for being gay, dumped by his boyfriend, and ends up in a dysfunctional co-dependant relationship with his would-be kidnapper. We were due for another messy JBL and it's exactly as expected. I do not like it at all. And ya know what? There is plenty airing. DNF 

In case you missed it

I FINISHED Meet You at the Blossom (China). I ate crow, binged the fucker, and live blogged the experience. I enjoyed it a lot and got quite witty (I think) there are also puns (warning). But if you don't wanna slog though it, here are my final thoughts:

This was undeniably a wuxia and most definitely a BL. Evil stunning princely Cheekbones meets and falls in love with the bisexual disaster Dimples of his dreams. There’s a lot of floaty fighting, tangled plot, and overworked emotions. From start to finish it is exactly as it claims to be, including more than the expected amount of sexual claiming (dubious conscent to the point of rape). I’m not wild about the wuxia genre, but I will tell you what I do like: Very pretty men in flowing robes + eye makeup + hair ribbons wafting about stabbing and kissing each other plus ridiculous soap opera machinations. I also like cheekbones and dimples. AND I love a stupid gay sleeve, okay? There was also truly epic levels of stink-eye, and that too is to be lauded. This show left me grinning like crazy. Was it great? Not really, but it was a great experience and I enjoyed it immensely. 8/10

4 Minutes (Gaga) Ended - Spies reported in to say the ending was not-exactly-unhappy and mostly lackluster. I'm torn over whether to watch. My natural disinclination to binge, meets my dissatisfaction with wishy-washy, is going up against my love of high heat and pretty men. Oh the age old struggle between art and lust.

Mitsuya-sensei no keimakutekina ezuke finished and it’s reported to be solid. Age gap treated with respect. I'm curious, so I'll check it out if I can get hold of non-G-drive subs.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Still Coming Sept 2024:

9/28 Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YouTube) ?? eps - oh I don't know just Ba Vinh doing his thing with pretty boys again.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

I love love love this execution of the punishment trope. What's Ai going to do to you, Yu? Ride you to death?

I Saw You in My Dream indeed.

Sigh. This show. (Addicted Heroin)

All praise one of BL's best-in-show glow-ups. Nicely done, Jack.

James, on the other hand. Never needs a glow-up. Still the prettiest. Has been since Oxygen. (Battle of the Writers)

He's playing the role of Saint in this show, thank you very much. Speaking of which, wouldn’t that be just the most gorgeous pairing in the entire universe? Saint and James? I’ll be in my bunk. 

Taiwan giving us a boop! Reminds me of Be Loved In House I Do, right up there with TharnType as chronic boopers.

Why is he SO GOOD in this show?

All Frist Note.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Finally // beautiful stranger

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k (including lyrics)

Warnings: angst, mostly fluff

Summary: You’ve got your heart broken once and you refuse to do it again. When a tall, green-eyed stranger walks into your life, you have to make sure he’s going to stay before letting him in completely.

Square Filled: finally // beautiful stranger by halsey (2020) for @spnsongchallengebingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Your eyes, so crisp, so green Sour apple baby, but you taste so sweet You got hips like Jagger and two left feet And I wonder if you'd like to meet

The only twenty-four-hour diner is across town from where you live but you find yourself in it anyway. The place isn’t busy considering it’s nearing one in the morning but you don’t want to go home. If you do, you’ll think about him and you really don’t want to cry yourself to sleep. At last here, you can compose yourself not to cry in front of people.

That, and you’re always hungry after getting your heart broken.

“Let me top your coffee off,” the waitress says and fills your cup again.

“I want another round, please. Bourbon. Neat.”

“Sure.”

When the waitress leaves, you finally notice the two men on the other side of the diner. One has his back to you but the other one is facing toward you and by God, this man is gorgeous. Even from where you’re sitting, you can see his crisp green eyes. Like candy apples. The sight makes you sad. Your ex was just as beautiful, and here you are eating your sorrows away. You look down and take a bite of your pie with a sniffle. The waitress comes back with your Bourbon, and you take a big gulp of it.

The green-eyed man says something to his friend before walking over to you.

“Are you okay?”

You down the rest of the Bourbon even though it burns. “What makes you think I’m not?”

“You’re crying.”

“Yeah, because of pig-headed men. I hate men,” you scoff and take another bite of your pie.

He chuckles not at you but at your comment. “Can I sit?”

“Sure. Want some of my pie? Alcohol fills me up and I won’t be able to eat this all.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He takes your fork and scoops some pie onto it before eating it. “My name is Dean.”

“I hope you treat your lady better than my man did, Dean.”

“I don’t have a lady but if I did, I would.” You nod and take the fork back for another bite. “Want me to beat him up?”

Maybe it’s your drunken brain or maybe it was genuinely funny, but you laugh at the thought of your ex getting beat by some stranger.

“You might not be able to take him on. He’s pretty big.”

“You clearly have no idea who I am, sweetheart. I’ll get my brother to help.” You giggle and bite your lower lip to stop your grin from spreading too wide. “What a shame.”

“What?”

“I know I shouldn’t be hitting on you but that guy doesn’t know what he gave up.”

“What do you mean?”

“He had a woman with the most gorgeous smile. If you were mine, I’d never want to stop seeing it.”

You smile again, this time, a shy one. It makes you sad because all beautiful men are like this.

Your voice is velvet through a telephone You can come to mine, but both my roommates are home Think I know a bar where they would leave us alone And I wonder if you'd take it slow

You and Dean kept in touch after meeting him half-drunk and crying over another man, and you’re kind of nervous to let him in more. You have a daughter who you love dearly, and bringing in strangers isn’t something you want to do to her. You don’t want her getting to know someone, bond with him, only for him to leave. Her father didn't want her so how can you expect anyone else to stay?

You and Dean hang when you can, when you have someone else to watch her, but finding a sitter is hard enough as it is. You don’t make a lot of money because you depended on your ex-boyfriend for everything. You didn’t have to work when he paid for everything. You’re trying your best even if it doesn’t feel like it.

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard your voice,” Dean says over the phone.

His voice is so velvety smooth that it makes you get butterflies from words alone.

“Sorry, I’ve been a bit busy. It’s been hard to get away.”

“I get it. Look, I have some free time now. I’d like to see you.”

You think of Amelia and how you can’t leave her here alone. She’s only six, she needs someone to watch her.

“I’d love to, Dean, but I have a daughter here that I can’t leave alone. I can’t afford a sitter right now otherwise I’d say yes.”

“Right. Of course, I understand.”

He sounds disappointed. You bite your lower lip in thought. Your sister lives a few houses down from you. If she says yes, you can leave and hang with Dean at a bar or something. You don’t want him coming here. As much as you like him, you’re not ready for Amelia to meet him.

“Let me ask my sister if she can watch her. I’ll text you if I can or not.”

“If you can, I’ll be at Joe’s. I hope to see you there.”

You immediately dial your sister because it’s a lot harder for her to say no to you over the phone rather than text.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Okay, don’t say no right away. Just listen to me.”

“You want me to watch Amelia?”

“Just for a little bit. Maybe a couple of hours. I met this guy. His name is Dean.” You hear her sigh which makes you pause. You know this sigh. It’s a disappointed sigh. “Jess, it’s not what you think.”

“You just broke up with Trevor how long ago? You already met someone?”

“It’s not like I’m going to marry him. I just… I can’t explain it. He’s nice…”

“Trevor was nice.”

“Jess, please? Just a couple of hours. I’ll pay you if you want.”

“No, you don’t need to do that,” she sighs. “Fine, I’ll watch her only for two hours.”

“You got it. Thank you.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing. I’d hate to see you hurt over yet another guy.”

Trust me, me too. After she comes over, Amelia is happy to see her aunt. Joe’s is only ten minutes from your place, and you text Dean you’ll be right there. He’s in the back playing with darts when you arrive, and you head over with a smile.

“I’m glad you could make it.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“So, you have a daughter?”

“Yeah, her name is Amelia. She’s my pride and joy. My ex was her father, and you know that didn’t end too well. I’d have you come over but I don’t want her meeting someone still so new, you know?”

“Yeah. I get it. Trust me.”

“I like you, Dean. I just need to take it slow.”

“Whatever you need to feel safe.”

Just like that, you fall for him a bit more.

I grab your hand and then we run to the car Singin' in the street and playin' air guitar Stuck between my teeth just like a candy bar And I wonder if it goes too far to say

After two months of dating, you decide it’s best if he gets to meet Amelia. You’re not sure if it’s going to crash and burn or work out but you have to put faith in this decision. Dean has been nothing but good to you, so you’re taking the chance he’ll love your daughter. Amelia knows you’ve been seeing someone. She’s not stupid. She’s a very smart six-year-old--too smart for her own good.

“Dean is almost here.”

“Do you like him, Mommy?”

“I do,” you smile.

Amelia shrugs and goes back to coloring. Dean shows up in his gorgeous Impala that you love riding in. He even let you drive it once which was thrilling. You leave Amelia coloring in the living room to greet Dean at the door. He keeps the kiss short and sweet knowing your daughter is here. You turn to let him in when you see your daughter standing right behind you with her hands on her hips.

“Hi, you must be Amelia. My name is--”

“Are you gonna break my Mommy’s heart like Daddy did?”

You’re taken aback by the question. Dean doesn’t seem scared by her sass, in fact, he encourages it.

“No, I won’t.”

“You better not, mister. I know how to fight.” Dean can’t help but laugh. “You better be a good one.”

“Okay, why don’t you go play in your room.” Amelia leaves without another word, and you close the front door with an apologetic face. “I’m sorry about her. It’s been rough lately.”

“She’s a cute kid. I know we agreed to stay in tonight, but what do you say I take you and Amelia out? Maybe to a zoo? I bet she’d love seeing the animals.”

You look out the window and see his shiny black car. You love his car but it’s not suitable for Amelia.

“You know I love your car, but there are no seatbelts. I am not putting my baby in a car with no seatbelts.”

“Yeah, okay,” he nods.

You two settle on the couch and put a movie on that you both love. Within the first act, he pulls you into him and wraps his arm around you. You should be happy, and you’re trying really hard to be, but Trevor behaved the exact same way. He was so nice and loving in the beginning but he let his true colors show later on. Had you not run when you did, you would have had bruises on your body from him.

Still, through all that fear, you can’t seem to stay away from Dean.

I've never recognized a purer face You stopped me in my tracks and put me right in my place Used to think that lovin' meant a painful chase But you're right here now and I think you'll stay

It’s been a week since Dean promised to take you and Amelia to the zoo. He promised to have a car that is safe enough for your daughter, so you’re not sure if that means upgrading the Impala or getting another car altogether. Dean loves his car so you don’t think he’d give up his precious car for you.

“Amelia, are you ready?”

“Yes!”

“Are you excited?”

“I can’t wait to see the lions, Mama! And the giraffes!”

“If you’re lucky, you might get a kiss from a giraffe.”

Amelia giggles as you help put her shoes on.

“I hope you keep this one. I like him.”

“I like him, too.” Then again, I liked the other one. A car you don’t recognize pulls up to your house, and you take two steps outside to see who it could be. Dean exits and smiles when he sees your confused face. He’s not driving his beloved Impala. He’s driving a new version of a Dodge Ram. “Whose car is that?”

“Mine. I bought it yesterday.”

“Why?”

“It has seatbelts.” Your heart melts a bit. “Now I can take Amelia out without you worrying about her safety. I hear this is a really good car.”

“You’d do that for her?”

“I’d do that for you.”

You want to move toward him and kiss him but you’re stuck. You can’t move. You’re shocked because Trevor would have never done this for you or Amelia. He loved driving sports cars that were never safe for children, and he refused to get a car that could support her.

Dean might be a keeper.

Oh, we're dancin' in my livin' room And up come my fists And I say, I'm only playing, but The truth is this I've never seen a mouth that I would kill to kiss And I'm terrified, but the truth is this I said Beautiful stranger, here you are in my arms and I know That beautiful strangers only come along to do me wrong And I hope Beautiful stranger, here you are in my arms And I think it's finally, finally, finally, finally, finally safe For me to fall

Amelia is sleeping but you and Dean wanted to have date night. Your sister isn’t in town to watch her and you didn’t want to take her to a bar at such a late hour. Dean offered to bring the date to you, which is why you two are slow dancing in your darkened living room. The only source of light is the candles you lit prior to him coming.

Soft rock flows through your speakers at a low tone so as not to wake Amelia, but Dean doesn’t mind. Dean runs his hands down your waist and grips your hips gently, and you lean up to press your lips against his. You’ve never felt this way about anyone, not even Trevor. He says all the right things, does all the right things, and knows exactly how to make your heart flutter.

You’re still terrified but it’s a good terrified. You’re scared of what this could mean, not that he could break your heart.

You pull away from him and stare into his beautiful green eyes.

“Don’t make me regret falling for you,” you whisper.

He leans his forehead on yours.

“I won’t.”

x

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[diyasgarden]

diya, i need you to write some EX patrick, it's a need, i don't have a plot in mind but he's just DESPERATE

Errand Ex

rating: suggestive

word count: 3.3K

summary: After breaking up with Patrick, you realize there are other ways he can be of use to you.

contains: suggestive language

author's note: I love when you send me requests <3 Ex Patrick is so yummy. Desperate Ex Patrick is even yummier. I feel like there is already a lot of Ex Patrick out there, so I combined couple ideas I had into this and it turned into short fic. I'll be so honest, I did not proof read this.

----

“Why the fuck were you making out with him?” Patrick exclaims the minute he has pulled you outside of the bar. You’re not drunk, but tipsy enough that the fast motion makes you feel dizzy and you have to take a moment to process the fact that Patrick Zweig is once again standing in front of you. It’s a somewhat disorienting sight. No scratch that. It's a very disorienting sight. It feels like a cruel joke that just as you were trying to move on, this was when Patrick decided to make a reappearance in your life.

For the past two weeks, Patrick lingered in the back of your head. He was your boyfriend and suddenly he was nowhere to be seen. No texts. No calls. Nothing. It was exhausting waiting for some sign he was alive, and then finally you decided you had enough. You sent him a message saying it was over and decided to go out with your friends. Some guy bought you drinks, and well you were single now so you thought might as well talk to him. He wasn’t exactly your type, but you needed the distraction. One thing led to another, and in your tipsy state you both ended up kissing. It was just some fun. Up until Patrick came out of nowhere, pulling you away from the man, and dragged you outside. Now where you both stand. Patrick says your name which pulls you out of your thoughts, and you realize he is waiting for some response.

His expression is half confused and half angry. He’s upset? What right does he have to be upset? The more you look at the expression the more ironic this situation feels. If you weren’t so pissed, you'd probably be laughing in his face.

“Because I can?” You snap back without a second thought. 

“No you can’t” He snaps right back and he is starting to look more angry than confused. 

This just pisses you off more. You want to say something clever or snappy, but nothing comes to mind. “What the fuck” You exclaim. It comes out simultaneously as a question and a statement. 

“You’re my girlfriend!” he exclaims back, the confusion returning back to his face once more. There is a beat of silence. Now you look confused too. You take a moment to just process the whole scenario. Patrick Zweig who randomly disappeared for two weeks acting like you’re still his girlfriend. This is when you actually start laughing. “What the fuck,” Patrick says watching you laugh. His brows furrowed in confusion and anger once more.

“We,” you pause and make a motion in between the two of you (dramatic but it felt fitting). “Are not dating,” you finish. Your voice is stern and definitive, like putting your foot down. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. The confusion on his face just grows, which causes your expression to soften just a little bit.  “Did you not see my message?” you ask him, slight confusion in your voice now too. He just blankly blinks at you. “The one where I said we’re done?” you ask again, voice slightly trailing off. 

“That…” he starts and his eyes dart to the side as he thinks about it. You can see the exact moment in which he realizes, because he immediately looks back at you. “You were serious?” he then asks quickly. 

It feels like the stupidest question in the world. “You went MIA for two weeks!” you exclaim back as if it explains everything he needs to know (which in all fairness, it should). 

“I was out of town for a tournament!” Patrick says back, and you just scoff. “I was busy!” 

“For fucks sake,” you mutter as you turn around and start walking away from him and the bar. After this interaction, you don’t have the energy to go back into the bar. You walk in the direction of your apartment building, ready to get in bed and forget about any of this happening. Patrick follows behind you. 

“Can we talk about this?” he asks.  

“No.”

“I really was busy!”

You both go back and forth like this until you get back to your apartment building. It’s a short walk, but you think for those five minutes it must have been amusing to anyone who saw you both bickering as you walked. You infront, him a little behind you. You’d also be lying if you said you didn’t find it somewhat endearing that he followed you home like a kicked puppy. 

“I think you’re overreacting,” Patrick says, as you open the door. “You know I can be bad at responding to messages.” He wasn’t wrong. He had a habit of taking time to respond to your messages, but usually he responded. Or at least you’d see him. 

You scoff and roll your eyes in response, “Leave me alone.” You realize as soon as you say it, you don’t mean it, but you quickly walk inside and start going up the steps to your floor so he can’t see that realization on your face. You feel relieved when you hear the old steps creak behind you as you walk up. 

“Please,” he says as you both get to your apartment door. You huff as you take a second to unlock the door. It never opens easily, so you channel all the frustration you have towards him and use it to push the door open. Once you’ve done so, you turn back to look at him. A part of you wants to let him back in and forget about the past two weeks. Then you remember this is the same man who just disappeared for two weeks. That was enough to snap you back into reality.  

“Goodbye,” you say as you walk and slam the door in his face.

----

The next morning you woke up on your bed in the same clothes as last night. You realized you must have fallen asleep as soon as you got back. This prompts the realization that you forgot to tell your friends you left, and you grab your phone to send them messages. As expected you see texts from your friends asking if you were okay. What you didn’t expect was the spam of messages from Patrick. 

Patrick: I’m sorry 

Patrick: We should talk about this. 

Patrick: This isn’t a big deal 

Patrick: Let’s talk?

Patrick: ????? 

Again you found yourself mildly endeared by the messages. Your finger moved to type, but you didn’t know what to say. You’d say yes and fall back into a relationship with him? You’d say no and would he keep sending more messages until you agreed to talk? Both possibilities would have taken you down a path to a location you were trying to avoid. You decided it was just best to ignore them, telling yourself he’d stop sooner or later. 

----

Well he didn’t stop. He took a complete 180 turn when it came to texting. You were constantly receiving messages. 

Patrick: Please can we talk about this. 

Patrick: It was a mistake. 

Patrick: Please I miss you. 

The content of his messages differed, based on when he was sending them to you. He sent messages throughout the day, but he would spam at night. Couple hours after midnight is when they would be most explicit. . 

Patrick: [Image Attachment]

Patrick: [Video Attachment] 

Patrick: I can’t get my hand to feel as tight as your cunt. 

(He sent a good amount of dick pics and jerking off videos)

After a couple days you also start getting messages like this. 

Patrick: Okay fine. You want to be done? We’re done

Patrick: Going to go find someone else to be with. 

Couple hours later those messages would be followed up by messages like this. 

Patrick: I thought about you the whole time.  

Patrick: No one feels as good as you. 

Patrick: I only want you.

It was also pretty easy to tell when he was drunk. 

Patrick: Plrssw. Cqn I cine ocet?

Sometimes they could be sappy. 

Patrick: I want to hold you. 

Patrick: I miss holding you. 

Sometimes they could be random. 

Patrick: I saw those cookies you like at the grocery store earlier today. 

And sometimes they managed to be horny, sappy, and random all at the same time. 

Patrick: I smelt your perfume in public today and I got hard. 

Patrick: It didn’t smell as nice as it smells on you. 

Patrick: I miss how you smell. 

Everynight he spammed. It was a combination of all of these messages, and you never really knew what to expect besides the fact that you’d be getting spammed in the first place. 

Waking up to all of them was a treat. Going through the spam was your version of reading the news. You’d wake up, get ready, grab something to eat, and sit down on your couch while you scrolled through all of them. You wondered how long this would go on, while also hoping it’d never stop. 

----

As you sit down on the couch with tea and a bagel, getting ready to do your morning scroll through everything Patrick sent the night before, when you hear a little zap sound. It takes a moment to realize what happened, but when the room suddenly feels a little more dull, you realize one of the light bulbs fizzed out. 

You look up at the ceiling and notice that in the four lights in the living room ceiling, only one is still working. “Fuck, did another one go out too?” Cailee, your roommate asks as she walks in, seeing you look up at the ceiling. You nod still looking at it. “One in the hallway went out too,” she adds with a sigh as she looks up at it. “This place is a dump,” she mutters, as she sits down on the couch beside you. 

She wasn’t wrong. While the both of you did the most to keep it nice, the apartment building itself was old, and it was clear in all the little repairs neither of you got around to. Whenever you brought it up with the landlord, he simply shrugged you off. Saying he’d get around to it (he never did). 

Changing the light bulbs was a small task compared to the other things that needed to be fixed. It was just an annoying one. You’d need to get the mini ladder and it reminded you of all the other things that needed fixing. “Guess one of us should handle that before the last light goes,” Cailee says looking up at the lights. As you looked up at it, a little light bulb went off in your head. 

----

You: Can you come over? I need help changing some light bulbs. 

Patrick: Seriously?

You: Yes

Patrick: On my way.

----

“So he’s really just came over for that,” Cailee asks as she takes a sip from her coffee. Both of you are standing in the kitchen watching Patrick screw the light bulb in. He’s tall enough that he is standing on a little stool and is able to replace the lights. 

You nod in response as you watch him do so. She looks at you with an expression that shows she clearly doesn’t believe in you. “I’m dead serious. He kept texting me, so I asked him to come over for this,” you say with a little head shake. 

“And he’s just here to change the lightbulb?” she asks again in a voice that shows she doesn’t believe you. 

“Cailee. Just that,” you tell her with a little huff, as you look back at Patrick. He’s nearly done with the light bulb. 

Your roommate just sighs with a shrug. “Well if you say so,” she says as she takes another sip of her coffee. You know she doesn’t believe you fully so you just roll your eyes. Patrick steps off the stool now and she must realize he’s done too. “See you later,” she whispers to you as she walks away from the kitchen back to her bedroom in the apartment. You watch her go and when you turn back to look in the direction of the living room, you see Patrick walking towards you. 

“Fixed the bulb,” he says, his voice slow as if he is trying to lead into something. You know he is going to apologize or ask about getting back together or something like that. Before he has the chance to say anything you decide to speak. 

“Come there are some more you need to replace,” you say quickly as you drag him into the hallway to change more light bulbs. 

----

Once the light bulbs were finished, you started to realize how many other things in your apartment needed fixing. Well you already knew that, but now it was glaringly obvious how much they needed to be fixed. 

“I just think we can call him over to help with some other things around here,” you say with a shrug looking over from your place on the couch to where Cailee is sitting. She looks at you with a raised eyebrow and then laughs. “What?” you instantly question. 

“You just want him around,” she says with a smile. 

You roll your eyes in response. “No, of course not.”

“Hmm yeah sure,” she says sarcastically. 

You roll your eyes again, “I just think there are a lot of things in the apartment that need to be fixed.” You move your hands around a little bit for dramatic effect. “You agree.” Caillee slowly nods her head as well. “So he could come help us,” you add with a little shrug. 

She just sighs with a little laugh, “Yeah okay he can.” It’s clear she doesn’t believe this is not about seeing Patrick again, but her voice is genuine as well. It’s the acknowledgement that he could actually help out, that makes you give her a small smile.

----

You: There are some other things I need help with

Patrick: Okay

Patrick: Are you asking me to help?

You: Yes 

----

You knew it was somewhat cruel to keep him coming back for more things. You reasoned that it wasn’t necessarily exploiting his kindness either. You knew Patrick was only saying yes because he wanted to get back with you. So in a way his behavior was self serving too. If anything you were just making the most of the situation. 

Over the next couple weeks, Patrick was at your apartment every other day to help with something. He helped patch up that weird dent in the wall that was there when you moved in. He helped fix the front door, which now opens without a struggle. Sometimes he’d come even if you just needed help moving furniture around. 

He was still sending you messages, except now he wasn’t spamming as much and the messages were scattered throughout the day. Your text history looked like this: 

Patrick: Do you want to get dinner together?

Patrick: ???

[seen by you]

You: Need some help fixing the ball and chain in the toilet. 

Patrick: On my way

You were pretty sure that some of the things you asked him to do were things he had no idea how to do either. When you called him to help clean your drain, you caught him looking at a youtube video on how to do it. Somehow more than the help itself, the fact that he was actively learning how to do it for you made it more endearing to you. There was also something very attractive about watching Patrick do these things. The way his muscles flexed. The way his shirt would raise just enough when he raised his arms. The little grunts if something was hard. (Although you’d never admit this to him). 

The bad part was that he tried striking a conversation with you after everything he did. While he tried doing this over text as well, it was easier to ignore him there rather than in person. Anytime he finished whatever errand you needed help with, you would suddenly “remember” that you had some work you needed to finish up or that you were late to meet with a friend. Somehow this always worked. 

----

Eventually, you ran out of things for him to do around the apartment. He resolved nearly every thing you and Cailee put off and what your landlord ignored. Not that you stopped asking for his help, you just started asking for different things. He was now regularly helping you pick up your groceries and mail. 

You: Can you help me take some things to the laundromat tomorrow? 

Patrick: Yeah 

Patrick: Are we’re back together?

[seen by you]

Patrick wasn’t the only one under the impression all of this meant your relationship was basically repaired. “You do realize he’s basically being your boyfriend now,” Cailee said when you told her about how you and Patrick were both going to the laundromat. 

“No, he is just helping.” 

“Yeah okay sure,” she said with a little laugh. Most of your other friends assumed you were back together too. It was frustrating. You just needed the help. He was willing to help. It was nothing else. 

----

You realized how much of a mistake the laundromat was the minute you put everything in the machine. 

“Can we finally talk about it?” Patrick asks. 

You sit down on the bench in front of the washing machine and shrug. “There is nothing to talk about,” you say, unable to make eye contact with him. 

Patrick scoffs and looks at you. “I made a mistake. I want to be with you.” He pauses and then asks, “Isn’t this enough?” He makes a little motion to the washing machine as he asks, although you know he is referring to everything he has done for you in the past couple weeks. In retrospect, you had him doing things for you for a longer period of time than he actually ghosted you by this point. 

“I just needed help,” you say, turning to look at him. “I’m sorry if you’re 

“No you wanted to see me,” he snaps back, leaning in a little closer to you as he says it. Now you scoff, but before you can say anything, he goes, “Don’t fucking deny it. You asked me to help you at a laundromat?” 

“I couldn’t carry it all by myself,” you say back quickly to depend on yourself. You realize how stupid it sounds the minute it leaves your lips. He scoffs again, but before he can say anything, you snap back, “Well no one forced you to come.”

He just looks at you for a moment with a slight smirk and mutters, “Fuck this.” He then stands up and storms out of the laundromat. You just watch him go.

You end up handling the rest of the laundry by yourself. You spend the entire time at the laundromat, and then walk home thinking about Patrick and the conversation you had before he left. Even when you walk back into the apartment and look around, all you can see are the things Patrick helped you out with around the place. 

----

The next day you wake up to no text messages from Patrick, but instead a package delivery. “I think it’s that bookshelf we ordered,” Cailee says as she drags the Ikea box into the living room. 

As Cailee begins to open the package to confirm what it is, you can feel your hand pull out your phone without thinking. It was a reflex at this point. 

You: Want to help me build something?

It feels a bit silly the moment you realize what you were doing. Even sillier the moment when you click send. The feeling goes away completely the minute you hear the ding of a text notification. 

Patrick: On my way. 

Well, some things never change.

author's note: Thoughts? This was just a silly idea I had. Hope you enjoyed!

[summercourtship]

Seems that we’re all in a Bruce Wayne brainrot era huh?

That being said could i ask for for the prompt 31?

“Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.”

Thank you for your time!!!

This ended up being slightly different than the prompt but I really liked how it turned out! :3 This one also does have some references to what happened post-STBOTDI, so it could be a mini midquel lmao. It’s explicitly in that universe, though it doesn’t matter if you haven’t read it because it’s not a big deal.

Gossip. | Bruce Wayne x Reader

warnings: none :) | word count: 553 Currently Accepting From This Prompt List: Guess inspired prompt list | send me a character + number for a 100-500 word drabble | character list + rules

Galas were awkward events for you. Even though Bruce’s presence was comforting, it also meant a lot of attention was on you from the moment you arrived until the moment you left. Normally, you were just a decorative piece to conversations, standing to the side and trying to not let your smile become stale on your face as random people tried to make Bruce laugh. 

Tonight, however, a local influencer that you didn’t know clearly wanted to press your buttons. She constantly made snide comments about your status, your looks, your lack of class (which was a bit hypocritical, considering she was the one attacking you for no reason). It was clear to you that she was either doing it to get a rise out of you (for some reason) or to try and turn Bruce off of you. After the first comment, Bruce had raised his eyebrows as if he was going to call her out for speaking about you but you just shook your head. You didn’t need him making a big deal about nothing for you.

But it was when she made a comment about your ex-boyfriend being locked away in Arkham Asylum that you broke. When Jonathan had first been arrested, your relationship to him wasn’t made public. However, when the trial started and it was revealed that Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend was testifying… the media frenzy began. To have someone who didn’t know you bring it up so callously, so casually, as if it was just a fun fact about you to poke fun at, was like a knife in your side. 

Barely thinking, you excused yourself from the ballroom, practically running away to the nearest balcony. You knew what it looked like, but it was exhausting being constantly ridiculed by the upper crusts of society. Especially for something that was ultimately none of their business. 

You’d been outside for only a few seconds when the door opened again. You didn’t need to turn around to see who had followed you- there was only one person at the Gala who cared enough to. 

Bruce’s footsteps were soft as he walked towards you, not saying anything as he came to a stop beside you. His hand rubbed warm circles on the small of your back, a comforting pressure that alleviated any stress you had accumulated in your body over the night. 

“It’s okay.” You said, though your voice was thick and gave you away.

“No, it’s not.” He tilted your chin up to look at him. He pressed a soft kiss against your lips, pulling away before you could return it. “You are one of the best people I know.” Another kiss, equally short. “You are so much more than what they say about you.” This time, when he kissed you, you eagerly returned it, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him close to you. 

“I love you.” You murmured against his lips when you parted, and even though you had said it before (many months before, it didn’t take long) he still smiled like it was the first time. Taking your hand in his, he led you to the door. 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asked, holding the door open for you and smiling like he already knew your answer. 

“Oh my god, yes.” 

[kaliforniahigh]

Starting to date Noah and sneakily avoiding any food related get togethers or saying you aren't hungry all the time. Redirecting date ideas to something unrelated to food. Texting with him and telling him that you aren't hungry even though he knows you only had a coffee and a muffin today. Thinking he doesn't notice because he's a guy after all. Little do you know that he's asked the guys if they have noticed how you never eat around them. Maybe he notices a calorie tracker on your phone. After he confronts you, he learns that you're extremely uncomfortable eating in front of people, in public especially, because ex's have made comments about your weight. Never being completely comfortable eating around people but he likes to leave you little premade snacks and seeing the empty container makes him feel better.

Honestly I'm terrible for having a single coffee a day, eating maybe 3 times a week. Mostly I'm just busy but there is always a little voice in my head saying that I haven't burned enough calories to be eating anything.

Thank you for trusting me with this request <3 Please seek help if you need to, we care about you and we want to see you happy and healthy!

Warnings: this story deals with eating disorder and a toxic relationship (not with Noah), hospitals and fat-shaming comments directed at reader.

Requests are closed for now.

WC: 2.3k

"You're not putting that in the cart", you heard a voice behind you.

You usually skipped the junk food isles whenever you went to the grocery store. You didn't know why you stopped this time, but you were hoping he wouldn't find you. It was just your luck that your boyfriend showed up right behind you as you grabbed a package of Oreos.

"I wasn't going to, was just looking at it", you put the Oreos back on the shelf.

"Those have around 471 calories, we don't need that going into your body", he told you as he grabbed a pack of KitKats and dropped in the cart. You wanted to tell him those have 518 calories, but you kept your mouth shut.

It was always like this, he could eat whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, but deprived you of the basic pleasures of life, like eating an Oreo for dessert.

You rarely went out to eat, him telling you that restaurants didn't use good quality ingredients, therefore, the food wasn't healthy and there was too much grease. Instead, you stayed wholed up in your house, eating whatever bland food he made for you.

Even now, a year after ending this relationship, you still held on to some habits, like checking the calories on things before you bought them and avoid eating fried food. But eating in front of people was the habit that was the hardest to let go of. You knew they most likely didn't give a shit or didn't even pay attention to you, but you couldn't help but feel their eyes on you, judging how much you could eat.

You hated the person he made you become. You were never like this as a kid. Your parents always made you feel comfortable in your own skin. Family gatherings always consisted of a lot of food, made and assembled on the table with love and care by your family members. And you weren't shy about eating and tasting all of it.

Now, you couldn't fathom the though of eating a whole burger by yourself.

That's why when you met Noah and his friends, you felt such whiplash from the behavior patterns you were used to in your last relationship.

You soon noticed that when they ordered food, they ordered food for real. They were a big group of people, but still, it looked like the amount of food could feed an army. You could always get away without eating in these social gatherings, everyone was so focused on their own food and conversations that they didn't even notice you not eating.

When Noah asked you out on your fist date, you specifically told him to not take you out to eat at a restaurant. You made up a lie about you having a lot of food allergies. So he took you to the Santa Monica pier, that way, you could choose whatever you wanted to eat.

You popped a couple of popcorns in your mouth - it was the healthiest option you could find - and when he finished his hot dog and excused himself to the bathroom to wash his hands, you dumped the popcorn in the nearest trash can.

That was almost six months ago and you thought you were so unsuspecting with your eating habits, that is until you were strolling through the supermarket with Noah.

He noticed you grabbed a lot of things from the shelves, looked over the packaging and put it back. By the third time he saw you doing this, he couldn't help but ask.

"Baby, what are you doing?", he asked you and noticed you freezing a little at his question.

"What do you mean?" you tried to buy yourself some time to come up with an excuse as to why you were looking over the nutrition facts on everything you wanted to buy.

"If you want anything, you can just put it in the cart, no problem", he told you as he walked closely behind you through the isle.

"It's ok, I can't eat any any of these things anyway, the calories are out of this world", you kept walking, not even noticing what you just said and that Noah completely came to a halt behind you.

"Baby", he called out to you and you looked back at him, he walked the couple of steps to reach you, leaving the cart behind and standing in front of you. "Were you checking the calories on every food you picked up?", he grabbed your face in his hands as he asked you the question.

"N-no, it wasn't that", you answered, but stuttered and he could tell you were lying.

"You don't have to look at that shit, if you want to eat it, we can buy it, the damn calories don't make a difference"

His words were sweet and you could tell he was worried, but you wished it was that simple. Your mind just can't get past all the scoldings if you even dared to take a look at the foods he forbid you from eating, or the way he made you weigh yourself weekly to see if you gained any weight.

"Can we talk about this later?", you told him in a small voice, not wanting to discuss this in the middle of the supermarket isle, or ever, actually.

"We'll talk about it when you're ready", he gave you a peck on the lips and dropped the subject for the moment. You breathed a sigh of relief and held yourself back from grabbing anything from the shelves.

After this day, Noah kept a close eye on you, noticing how you kept to your water instead of eating anything with the guys when they were over having lunch or dinner, or how you left before or after luch or dinner time whenever it was just the two of you.

So he decided to talk to Nicholas about it.

"Have you noticed anything strange with Y/N lately?" he asked his best friend when they were sitting on the couch playing Mario Kart one night.

"No, dude. Should I have noticed something?", Nicholas asked back. Noah was sure he wasn't imagining things.

"We were buying stuff at the supermarket the other day and I noticed she was looking at the packages of everything she picked up from the shelves", he started to explain, and Nicholas paused the game so he could pay attention to what Noah was saying.

"So I questioned her about it and she said something about calories, and then I realized that she was checking the nutritional facts to decide if she would buy it or not. So I started to pay attention and noticed that she doesn't eat anything around us or me", he gave a big sigh of frustration. He wanted to confront you about it, but didn't want you to run for the hills.

"I offered her some chicken wings the other night but she refused them", Nicholas pointed out to him.

"Can you just keep an eye on her? Just to make sure I'm not making things up in my head?" Nicholas nodded and assured him he would say something if he noticed anything strange.

The days went by and you kept to the same pattern, until one day when Noah was sitting in the studio, working on new music and his phone rang beside him. Looking at the caller ID, he saw it was your mother giving him a call.

It wasn't unsual for them to talk, but they never called each other, choosing to stick to text messages intead. He picked up the phone as soon as he saw it was her.

"Hey, what's up?" he greeted, heart beating faster for no reason at all.

"Hey, Noah. I can't explain right now, but Y/N is in the hospital. She's fine, but I think she needs to see you", her voice was calm and that's what helped not alarm him too much. He got up from the chair and didn't bother putting his sneakers on, opting for the sliders already on his feet.

"I'll be there in a minute", he told her.

"I'll be waiting for you at the entrance", he gave a hum of acknowledgment and hung up the phone.

His head ran over a million possibilities of what could've happened to you, but he tried to keep himself from going crazy on the drive to the hospital. Your mom said you were fine, and he trusted her.

Sure enough, she was waiting for him at the entrance, wanting to talk to him before he went into your room. He approached her and they hugged as a greeting.

"Listen, I know you've probably noticed Y/N's eating habits by now", she told him and he nodded. "She is gonna tell you all you need to know, just please be patient with her. I know you're a good man and she's gonna need your support right now"

"I'll do anything she needs me to do" he reassured her.

"I know you are. She is in room 102" she told Noah and he got inside the hospital, stopping at the reception and then being led to your room.

He opened the door and saw you laying there on the bed. The sight broke his heart. You looked fragile and a little embarassed.

"Hi, baby" he said in a soft tone, not wanting to alarm you, as he took a seat on the chair, scooting over closer to your bed.

"Hey, there. I guess I owe you an explanation", you looked at him with a guilty look on your face.

"What happened, baby?", he took your hands in his and gave you his full attention.

"Apparently I'm very anemic", you let out a sarcastic laugh. "Before I met you, I had a boyfriend", you dived straight into it, not giving you the time to talk yourself out of this. "He was very controlling, specially with what I ate. He always told me he wasn't the kind of guy to date overweight girls", you felt his grip on your hand tighten at your words.

"He made me check the calories on everything I bought at the supermarket, hence why I was doing it that day. He would get very annoyed if I even looked at unhealthy foods in front of him. He made me weigh myself in front of him every week to make sure I didn't gain weight"

You closed your eyes, tears stinging them and threating to fall down your cheeks. But you kept going regardless.

"He was cruel because he ate everything I couldn't in front of me. To this day, I really do believe it was a form of psychological torture. I finally had the guts to break up with him after talking with my mom and my therapist", you looked at him and saw his brows were furrowed, you could tell he was angry about everything this man put you through.

"But old habits die hard and I guess I haven't fully realized I'm not in that place anymore. Everytime I reach for something at the supermarket or anytime you guys order food or we have a barbeque, his voice and his insults echo in my head all over again, and I can't help it but let it consume me"

"If I'm being honest with you, I just wanna bash this dude's head in right now", he said through gritted teeth. He couldn't fathom anyone putting their partner through this kind of thing.

"I heard he moved out of the country a few months back" you told him and he was actually glad, because he was already making plans in his head on how to find this guy and give him a piece of his mind.

"What can I do to help you?", he decided to change the topic of conversation to what you needed right now. He was going to focus on you.

"Going to therapy weekly again is a must. And try to get out of my comfort zone. In another words, I really have to start and try to eat more and more regularly" you told him and you could see the gears in his head turning.

"Here's what we're gonna do: you're gonna make a list of everything you're comfortable eating, and I'm gonna make you meals and snacks with those. You don't have to eat in front of me if you don't want to, I just need to know you're eating. And then the foods that trigger you, we can work on them together along with your therapist to make sure you're safe with eating them again" he had a whole game plan set out, and your eyes welled with tears for a different reason this time.

"It might take a while" you warned him.

"We have forever to work on it" he leaned over you to plant a kiss on your forehead.

The weeks following, he kept a close eye on you, but made sure to not crowd you. He had various snacks in different containers in the fridge for you to grab whenever you felt hungry, and you made an effort to put the empty containers on the countertop so he could see you were eating them.

Therapy felt good and soon you were finding yourself getting out of your shell more and more. You and Noah went on your first dinner date, and you finally got to taste Matt's amazing barbeque. Drinking beer again was amazing, and you would never forget the taste of having a sweet treat after a long day, or after a delicious meal.

You got to experience what a real relationship felt like, how it was to have supportive people around you. You no longer felt like you were being watched and judged, instead, they encouraged you to be yourself with no shame.

[beom-pyu]

truth or drink! (engaged edition): choi soobin

part 3 of the truth or drink series! <3

other parts: beomgyu & taehyun "my ex + my boyfriend edition" yeonjun "couples edition" kai "blind date edition"

slightly nsfw! (minors dni.)

welcome to truth or drink! engaged couples will ask each other a set of random questions. they can either answer the question or take a shot.

“i’m soobin and this is my fiance...”

“y/n!”

how long have you guys been together?

YOU: "4 and a half years."

how long have you guys been engaged?

SB: “going on 2 months now.”

who talked about marriage first?

SB: “y/n.”

YOU: “me.”

and how did that go?

SB: “they actually said it the first time we met at a mutual friend’s birthday party.”

YOU: “i was shitfaced and he had really cute dimples, so i told him we should get married. and he said okay!”

did you get engaged on the spot?

SB: “they completely forgot who i was by the next day, so i had to do all of the courting and work to even get them to go on a date with me.”

YOU: “it was worth it though.”

SB: “of course it was.”

SOOBIN: what was your first impression of me?

YOU: “other than the birthday incident, i thought you were way cooler than you actually are.”

SB: “am i not cool???”

YOU: “you are like… pitifully cute?”

SB: “that makes me sound like a charity case.”

YOU: “the cutest charity case ever.”

YOU: is there anything about getting married that scares you—something you haven’t shared with me?

SB: “hm… rationally, i know it probably won’t happen, but i feel like you’ll get bored of me at some point?”

YOU: “i could never get bored of you, baby. well… only your league of legends talk, but i love everything else.”

SB: “what’s wrong with my league of legends talk?”

you gently place your hand on top of his.

YOU: “everything.”

SOOBIN: what is something you want to try in the bedroom that we’ve never done before?

YOU: “bottoms up.”

SB: “hey, no! this is a safe space.”

YOU: “i think my mom is watching this, soobin.”

SB: “hi, y/n’s mom. now tell me.”

YOU: “if i say mine, you have to say yours.”

SB: “deal.”

YOU: “i want to like… tie you up.”

SB: “wait, i was gonna say that!”

YOU: “no way.”

SB: “yes way.”

YOU: “see, we’re a match made in heaven.”

YOU: on the count of three, both of us say the number of children we would ideally have.

YOU: “one, two, three. two!”

SB: “five!”

YOU: “five?”

SB: “i was going to say six, but i lowered it just for you.”

you give soobin an incredulous stare.

YOU: “i need a shot.”

SOOBIN: if you had one hall pass, who would you sleep with?

YOU: “people we know or…?”

the producer gives you a thumbs up.

YOU: “i’m gonna drink.”

SB: “wait, now i’m curious.”

YOU: “what about you?”

…

SB: “...pour me one, too.”

YOU: who proposed to who, and how did they propose?

SB: “i proposed. but it was really messy.”

YOU: “really cute actually. he had just gotten home from a month-long business trip and, if you didn’t know, he’s a really emotional person—”

SB: “i’m not that emotional.”

YOU: “you cried watching shrek, honey.”

SB: “that was one time.”

YOU: “you also cried during our first ti—”

SB: “continue on with the proposal, please.”

soobin pours another shot, just because, and you laugh under your breath.

YOU: “i was already in bed when he got home and he just got into bed and started bawling.”

SB: “i wasn’t ‘bawling’, i was sniffling.”

YOU: “you were bawling. anyways, he pulled me into his arms and was just like ‘please, please marry me, the love of my life, my entire universe, i can’t live without you, i need you forever—’”

SB: “okay, now you’re just making stuff up.”

YOU: “so you admit you were bawling?”

...

SB: “next question.”

SOOBIN: have you ever seriously considered breaking up with me?

YOU: “i wouldn’t say seriously…”

SB: “so you actually have considered it?”

the pout on soobin’s lips is prominent.

YOU: “you know work takes up a lot of your time, and i didn’t really understand where you were coming from in the beginning. so i guess i’ve thought about it once or twice, but i never really wanted to go through with it. i can’t see myself with anyone else but you.”

SB: “i think i’m the only one that can handle you, anyways.”

YOU: “woah, what does that mean?”

soobin just laughs and kisses the back of your hand.

SB: “take it as you will, baby.”

YOU: how often do we have sex, and how often should we have sex?

SB: “every other day…? i feel like that's more than average.”

YOU: “yeah, you’re very needy.”

SB: “i’m not needy. i’m just obsessed with you.”

YOU: “see, look, you’re trying to get into my pants right now!”

SB: “...is it working?”

YOU: “yes.”

SOOBIN: when was the last time you masturbated, and where was i?

YOU: “like, two days ago? and you were out with one of your friends.”

SB: “i still don’t know if he accidentally saw the videos you sent me or not...”

YOU: “doesn’t sound like you’re complaining.”

SB: “i’m the only one who can fuck you right, so i’m not worried.”

YOU: “mom, if you’re watching this. i’ve never had sex. i don’t even know what sex is.”

YOU: who or what do you picture when masturbating?

SB: “your ass. and your lips.”

YOU: “that was quick, woah.”

SB: “sorry y/n’s mom.”

SOOBIN: what’s your favorite and least favorite sex position?

YOU: “i think i like spooning the most? only because i don’t have to do a lot of work.”

SB: “i can’t believe you tried to convince me you’re not a pillow princess.”

YOU: “i’m not! i can be on top if i want to!”

SB: “isn’t that your least favorite though?”

YOU: “yes, but anything is good if it involves your dick so…”

SB: “and you say i’m the needy one.”

YOU: “it’s mutual!”

YOU: the average duration of sex for most couples is 10 minutes. how long do you think we last?

SB: “honestly, hours.”

YOU: “he has an inhuman libido. please pray for me.”

SB: “okay, ‘inhuman’ is an exaggeration.”

YOU: “no, you are like superman. i’m serious.”

SOOBIN: what is my biggest flaw?

YOU: “you only dress up if it’s for special occasions.”

SB: “i try my best!”

YOU: “will you let me reform your closet?”

SB: “as long as you’re paying.”

YOU: “...nevermind. you look sexy in sweatpants anyways.”

SOOBIN: about 40 to 60% of married couples divorce. do you think we will last?

YOU: “check back in after a year.”

SB: “woah, i thought we were going to grow old and wrinkly and brittle together? you don’t want to bump canes?”

YOU: “i don’t like the way you worded that.”

SB: “so i’m going to take that as a yes.”

you roll your eyes, but a smile forms on your face nonetheless.

YOU: “in all seriousness, you know i’m in love with you and i don’t think there’s anyone else out there that i’d even consider marrying. i’d love to grow wrinkly and old with you.”

SB: “awe, my little prune.”

YOU: “you’re so weird.”

SB: “and now you’re stuck with me forever~”

you look towards the camera.

YOU: “save me, please.”

masterlist

©️BEOM-PYU

[ddejavvu]

Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 2) / Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 (Final Part)

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 16.1K / navigation / inbox

A/N: part two!! thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of the sweet, lovely feedback i got on part one, i was so happy you enjoyed the opening chapter!! this part gives some more backstory on reader+bradley, and i hope you like it just as much as you did the first! once more i'd love to hear your thoughts, thank you to everyone who said something wonderful and kind about the first part, it meant a lot to me. <3

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Instead of your alarm, you wake up to a call from Carole. It’s 7:29, and when you raise the phone to your ear, your voice is gruff and achy with sleep.

“Hello?”

It feels just like yesterday. Yesterday, that comes flooding back to you in a barrage of awful memories. All that’s changed is the bed you’re in; you’re still alone. You almost miss Carole’s response because you’re slowly taking in everything that hits you like an anvil from above, but you catch the last word and can discern her meaning.

“-visit?”

“Yeah,” You rub your eyes, feeling tears already gathered there; a great way to start your morning.

“Yeah, I’ll visit,” You confirm, and your alarm buzzes against your head. You hastily shut it off and yawn, only inducing more tears and sighing as you speak again, “I’m gonna run to the store real quick, get some stuff for cookies. He convinced me to sneak them in.”

“That boy,” Carole huffs, and even half-asleep, you hear her voice laced with fondness for her son, “Alright honey. How y’doin’?”

“Um,” You ponder, truly unsure as your fingers pick at a stray thread on the blanket; you’d been meaning to replace it for months. “Okay. Not okay, but not- not as bad as yesterday. I think-” You swallow, throat convulsing, “I think I love lying to him if it means I have him back.”

She’s silent for a moment, letting your words sink into your own brain. You feel guilty for them, just like you feel guilty for leading Bradley on, pretending nothing is wrong when your entire lives have fallen apart. But she eventually responds with all of the kindness and love she has inside of her, which is a lot.

“I know, baby. And it’s okay, it’ll get better. It’ll turn out right.”

“I hope so,” You breathe shakily, wishing either her or your boyfriend (pretend boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend?) were there to rub soothing circles into your back. 

“I know so.” She promises, and she’s never promised something she couldn’t guarantee. You hope this isn’t her first strike, because her never-ending optimism miraculously lifts your dreary spirits until your chest doesn’t ache with a sob begging to break free. “Alright, baby doll, I’ll let’cha get to baking. I’m gonna see if they’ll let me sneak in early, I- Oh! Nurse,” She calls away from the phone, and you hear her move on the other end, no doubt chasing down a poor nurse that doesn’t want to get fired for letting her in before visiting hours. You hang up the call with a snort, fond of how her fierce love for those around her hasn’t faded in all the time you’ve known her.

Pulling yourself out of bed is hard, but you do it for Bradley. You’re sluggish as you traipse to the bathroom, using deodorant in place of a shower and brushing your hair back into a ponytail. Showers are for people who have the luxury of time, you need to bake fast, and get over there to see if Bradley wakes up remembering anything new- er, old. You hope that he doesn’t, and then you hope that doesn’t make you a bad person.

One of the things you love about the place you’d shared with Bradley is that it’s close to a shopping center with a grocery store. It means that you walk to the supermarket, sandals on your feet and ratty, day-old clothes still on. No one seems to mind when you grab a basket looking like you’ve risen from the dead, and you collect the ingredients for Bradley’s favorite cookies with a skillful, experienced hand. You haven’t paid for anything by card in a while, you’d used emergency cash for the motel, and you wonder if you’ve been locked out of your joint bank account. Probably not; if the state of Bradley’s place had been any indication, he wants you back. But you’re cautious using the card anyways, in case a big red screen comes to life on the monitor in front of you and tells you you’re a terrible girlfriend. Almost a terrible wife.

You’re glad that you don’t run into any of your neighbors on the walk back home, because you don’t want to explain why you look the way you do, nor do you want to burst into tears when they ask where Bradley and his car are. You keep your head down and avoid the trike on the front walkway, ducking back into the house without being spotted. 

Firing up the oven feels heavenly, maybe because you’ve been eating scraps of motel food for two weeks. It reminds you of all the times you’ve baked with Bradley, or, more like the times you’ve baked while Bradley steals pinches of sugar from the bowl or tries to lick the beater when there’s raw egg in the mixture, resulting in more batter in his mustache than in his mouth while you try wrestling the spatula out of his grip.

You go through the oatmeal raisin motions absentmindedly; a master at your craft. It frees up brainpower to reminisce, and you sort through a mental file cabinet to find your favorite memory of baking with Bradley.

--

“I want to try the vanilla,” Bradley reaches for the teaspoon in your hands, and you jerk it away, thankful that it isn’t full of the brown liquid yet.

“Absolutely not,” You laugh, “Brad, it’s gross by itself. It’s like eating straight cocoa powder, it’s meant to be mixed in with something.”

He pouts, he actually pouts, a man of 36. The expression has his mustache hanging over his lower lip and you can’t help but giggle at it, leaning in to kiss the prickly hair on his face.

“You’ll have a cookie to eat soon,” You promise him, dumping a teaspoon of vanilla extract into the mixing bowl. He plays satisfied with your answer, but when you turn your back to fold the mixture in on itself with a spatula, you hear rustling behind you, then the click of a cap, and a muffled gag.

“I told you,” Your voice is sing-song-y, and you turn amusedly to watch Bradley duck under the sink’s faucet, rinsing his mouth out of the bitter taste. He’s scowling when he comes back up for air, water dripping from his mustache as he crosses his arms.

“I thought it would be good.” He mutters, and you nod, humming as a bit of batter smears over your thumb from the spatula.

“That’s because you didn’t listen to me,” You lament, “I know everything, Brad. You should just listen to me, always.”

“Oh yeah? Alright, share some wisdom with me, Almighty One,” He teases, pushing off of the counter to join you at your own, “What should I do?”

He moves with his arms crossed, standing just close enough that you know the only answer you can give.

“Mm,” You pretend to deliberate, really leaning into it with a few contemplative taps at your chin, “Kiss me.”

He gasps dramatically, which is the way that he does most things, “Excellent idea. You really do know everything.”

“Mhm,” You nod, craning your neck up as Bradley leans down to kiss you, “I told you. Listen to me all the time.”

“I will,” He promises, “Quick, tell me we should have sex.”

“Bradley!” You gawp, an incredulous laugh oozing out from your chest, leaving behind a snail trail of joy, “You’re insatiable! We’ve already gone twice today.”

“Mm, can’t help it,” He tsks, backing you into the counter and kissing you once more. His lips press firmly to yours, his hands at your waist caging you into his embrace, “Honey, you taste much sweeter than that vanilla shit.”

--

When you come to, you’re putting the cookies in the oven. You’re alarmed at how zoned out you’d been, but evidently you hadn’t burned the place down, and you shut the oven door, setting a timer on the microwave. You tackle the dishes next, using the time that the cookies bake to tidy up your work station. The dough comes easily off of the mixing bowl and the melted butter drips over your fingers before you scrub it away, still slightly warm from the microwave. There’s only a few plates in the sink that you hadn’t dirtied, and you wonder if Bradley had washed and dried dishes while you were away. Or maybe this was it, four plates of food in two weeks. You’d been treating yourself that way, but it’s heartbreaking to know Bradley had, too.

You try warding off your incoming bout of sniffles by retreating back to your bedroom, choosing a new outfit to wear to the hospital. If you show up in the same thing, Bradley might worry about you, and you don’t want him thinking you were too sluggish to pull yourself together for him. You’re hurt, wounded and scarred with lashes over your heart, but he’s the one with the broken ribs and the lost memories, so you need to play the part of the strong one; the uninjured one.

He can’t know you’re hurting in case he asks why.

Your shower is quick, and you try not to think about Bradley in case you succumb to the urge to cry. Of course, it’s impossible to chase the thoughts from your head, and the feeling of your fingers scratching shampoo through your scalp turns into the feeling of Bradley’s. The hand that slides down your side suddenly isn’t your own anymore, it’s a memory of his. A ghost of him, a whisper against your skin of ‘I promise, baby. You won't lose me’.

You hope more than anything that promise stays true.

You get yourself ready to go with more zeal than you’ve felt in the past two weeks. You’re taking the bus today, to cut down on gas money, and you’re sure you’ll spend the whole time worrying. You’re nervous about seeing Bradley, but it’s a few minutes past eight-thirty and you’re sure if he’d regained his memories, Carole would have notified you. Beyond the nerves you’re almost excited to pretend to be his girlfriend again, excited to live in the fantasy life you’ve created to preserve his peace of mind. You never thought you’d love to lie to him.

You’re much more put together today when you greet the receptionist, and you're not sure you could forget the way to his room if you tried. There’s a bag of the oatmeal raisin cookies hidden in your purse and you slip into the room just as a doctor leans over him to take his temperature.

You adore the way Bradley smiles at you. His eyes meet yours as you stand in the doorway, previously cautious and now elated that he seems to like you still. His face lights up and he calls, ‘Baby,’ alerting the nurse to your presence.

“Miss Mitchell!” The woman greets you, the one who’d brought Bradley’s dinner last night. 

“Hi,” You gush, a laugh bubbling up in your chest that’s made of pure elation. It’s a sickly sweet sound, one that you thought you’d never be able to make again after leaving Bradley. You rush to kiss him when the nurse leans away, scribbling down his temperature on his chart.

He lifts his hand to cup your cheek when you kiss him and the tears that line your eyes are happy ones; there’s still time. There’s still time to soak in his love before he remembers, there’s still time to lose yourself in this fantasy.

You take a moment to breathe after the kiss, doing so against his lips. He does the same, and you bask in each other’s presence, noses brushing and foreheads pressed together. Skin-on-skin, love-on-love.

“His heartbeat really did speed up,” Carole marvels, and you scramble to greet her, guilty that she’d slipped your mind in the rush of emotions you felt.

“Hi! Hi, sorry,” You stammer, wrapping her in a hug while she waves away your apologies.

“No worries, baby!” She squeezes your shoulders, beaming at you. You’re sure she’s thrilled you showed up, and you know Bradley is too from the way he grabs for your hand when you sit by his bed. He’s always been a touchy guy, his hands are never idle, but he’s never been quite this clingy before. It’s good, it helps ground you, and it’s what you need after a two-week bender in a motel.

“Brad,” You coo, unable to resist kissing him again when he turns his head to face you in the bed. He looks more comfortable today than he had yesterday, no more breathing tube or pale skin. There’s dark circles under his eyes, but you’re sure he’s still shaken up from the crash, and you’ll make sure he gets to sleep nice and early tonight.

If you’re able to.

Once you’ve kissed him you dot smaller ones across his face, heart soaring at the gentle laughter that spills from his lips as you do so. You kiss his nose, his cheeks, his chin, the space beside his eyes that’s wrinkled from years of laughter, and when his pretty brown eyes flutter shut, you go for the eyelids, too. You savor each one because you know it could be your last, and when he strokes the back of his hand along your cheek, you lean into the touch.

“Pretty girl,” He hums, and you feel your cheeks get hot. Newly showered, you felt more put-together than you’d been before, but you’d spent the past two weeks in a pigsty of your own creation, so the compliment means more than he knows.

Apparently, he feels your cheeks grow hot, too. His fingers pick up on the warmth and he laughs again, this time only a normal amount of raspiness clinging to the sound., He’s hyper-affectionate, taking his chance to dot kisses over your features for a change. The giddiness in your chest as his lips press to your skin, mustache prickling it, makes it feel like your heart will burst. You feel undeserving as he showers you with the affection you’ve missed so much, but you’re greedy so you take it anyways, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Carole was taking pictures of you in secret.

“I have some good news,” The nurse reports, and you turn at her voice. She’s angled towards Carole, obviously having meant to leave you and Bradley be in your couple’s reverie, but when she notices that she has your attention too, she speaks to the group.

“Nothing abnormal was documented during your stay here,” She reads off of her chart, “It’s just the concussion and the broken ribs, which is remarkable for the accident you were in. You’re very lucky, Mr. Bradshaw. There was some smoke inhalation from the crash site but that’s not a major issue anymore, and if everything remains stable until dinnertime, you can go home tonight.”

“Oh!” Carole squeals, clapping delicately with her hands in her lap, “That’s fantastic!’

Bradley seems equally pleased, smiling wide, and it takes a lot of willpower to mirror his expression. He knocks his nose into your cheek and you feel his grin against your jaw, so you bring a hand up to scrub through the hair at the back of his neck.

“That’s great,” You conclude weakly, blaming the lull in your voice on being so close to Bradley and not wanting to talk too loud. Carole eyes you nervously, though, trying to mask the worry in her eyes with a smile.

“You should still rest,” The nurse advises, “Those ribs won’t be healed for close to a month, maybe more. And you can sleep through most of the concussion, too. What’s good about going home is it’ll be familiar to you, and it might help trigger those memories you’ve lost. They’re still not back?”

“Nope,” Bradley shakes his head, keeping it pressed to yours, “I got nothin’.”

“Alright,” The nurse hums sympathetically, tucking the chart into a cubby by the door, “We’ll bring lunch at around one, Mr. Bradshaw.”

“Thank you!” Carole calls after the nurse as she leaves, then she stands in her flowy skirt, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her shoulders.

“Miss Y/N,” She beams, “Bradley’s already had his breakfast. Have you eaten?”

“Uh, no,” You shake your head, “Not yet. Are you going to get something?”

“I am,” She nods, shouldering her purse, “Would you like some hospital pancakes, baby doll?”

“Here,” You stand, but Bradley grabs your hand, keeping you close to his bedside, “I can-”

“You can sit down,” Carole narrows her eyes at you, teasingly menacing, “Sit your butt back in that chair and be with your boyfriend, honey! I can manage two to-go boxes.”

“Thank you,” You gush, settling back into your seat and squeezing Bradley’s hand. He doesn’t let up on his heavy grip until you’re planted in your seat, and even when he does loosen his fingers he still holds you. Carole winks at you when you leave, and Bradley’s attention is solely on you the second the door shuts.

“Y/N,” He murmurs, and sometimes you forget your name isn’t baby or honey around him. You turn, now a little more nervous to be there now that your buffer is gone.

His big brown eyes are oozing their signature sweetness, a golden glint in them under the lights of the hospital room. He looks healthier now, even though you know his ribs hurt, and you’re oh-so-happy to have your Bradley back.

“I missed you,” You confess, and his face breaks into a grin. He nods, leaning up to kiss you, and you close the gap so that he doesn’t have to strain his probably sore muscles.

“I missed you, too,” He breathes, and you kiss him over and over and over again until you think you might be stealing the breath from his lungs. You let up, if only to keep him healthy, otherwise you’d never stop.

“I wasn’t sure when you were coming,” His lips close momentarily around your lower one while yours frame his top in a sweet peck.

“The cookies needed time to bake,” You lament, your mouth slightly dewy from his kiss, “Sorry, babe. I would have come faster, I- I should have gotten up earlier, but-”

“You’re here now,” He cuts off your worries, the heated skin of his face pressing against yours like he’s trying to stick to you, “That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah?” You hum dazedly, drunk on his love, “What about the cookies, do those matter?”

His eyes widen in consideration and he tilts his head to the side, mouth scrunching in a thoughtful frown, “Yeah, those matter too. Oatmeal raisin?”

“Oatmeal raisin,” You promise, digging through your purse, “Are you still on the hospital diet?”

“Honey,” He declares, sounding like his father's son as pride prickles his mustache, “I’d eat your cookies even if they killed me. Lay one on me, sugar.”

You snort at his cocky drawl, withdrawing a cookie from the bag in your purse. You break a piece off, hand-feeding him like his arms are still weak.

“Speaking of sugar,” You muse, stealing a bite of the treat for yourself and speaking with it pinched between your teeth, “I was thinking about baking together earlier. It was awful being alone, there was no one to eat the sugar out of the bowl.”

“Or drink the vanilla extract,” He cracks, and you laugh with glee.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking of!” You gush, taking his hand once more and squeezing it, “You gagged.”

“I don’t know! I just thought it’d taste good! I love vanilla,” He laments, only fuelling more laughter from you. 

“Yeah, well you got a lot of it,” You chuckle, “Anyways, it was weird not having you there. I had to do the dishes all by myself.”

“Poor baby,” He croons, half sincere and half teasing. He strokes a hand down your cheek that you yearn to kiss, but it goes by too fast, “How’d you manage?”

“I thought about you,” You confess, and some of that amusement in his eyes dims, giving way to complete and total admiration.

“Yeah?” He breathes, incredulous like he's twelve and he can’t believe his crush actually likes him. He’s always had that sort of puppyish aura about him, like you’re not just his girlfriend, you’re his best friend, and he’s always happy you’re along for the ride. It’s probably why he holds your hand so frequently, like he is now.

“Yeah,” You nod, flipping his palm in yours and tracing over the lines etched into it, “It’s not home there without you, Brad.”

“We go back tonight,” He smiles, keeping his voice low so that it doesn’t shatter the serenity around you, “Together.” You notice a sheen of tears over his eyes and you fall in love with him all over again, unable to hold yourself back from admiring how much he loves you. You really, really don’t know how you fucked this up.

“Yeah,” You croak, smiling weakly down at his hand instead of into his eyes, “Together.”

“Breakfast,” Carole sings, propping the door open with her foot as she steps inside. Your heads turn in sync, and you see her holding two plates, both covered with plastic lids. “Miss Y/N, three pancakes for you, and there’s syrup for days.”

“Thank you,” You rush to help her, and some piece of your heart stays in Bradley’s palm when you drop it. You suspect you won’t get it back unless he forgives you eventually, or maybe he’ll keep it even if he does. You trust him with it, he’ll take care of it.

You wish you'd offered him and his heart the same courtesy.

Carole hands you your breakfast and takes a seat on Bradley’s opposite side, caging him in between his two girls.

“You want some, baby?” Carole croons at Bradley, but he shakes his head.

“No thanks, ma,” He clears his throat, turning to face you with a puppy-eyed look that he’s had mastered since age three, “But I would love another bite of cookie?”

“Oh, take it,” You grumble, handing over the baked good for Bradley to devour, “But if your blood sugar rises, or something, it’s not my fault.”

“Won’t tell a soul,” Bradley promises, a mouthful of oatmeal raisin already impairing his speech, “Thanks, honey.”

“Mm-hm,” You nod, your mouth similarly stuffed with food. The pancakes are good, considering they came from a cafeteria that also serves tuna and jell-o.

“Y/N, baby,” Carole calls just as much sugar in her voice as is in her breakfast, “Pass me that syrup?”

She’s asking for a container you’ve got in your hand, half-empty. She doesn’t want to open a new one and waste the contents, so you pass it over, but a drizzle drips off of the side and lands on Bradley’s chin. 

He rears his head back as it falls, but he can’t burrow far enough into the pillow to dodge it. You squeal through your mouthful, swallowing quickly and painfully to rush out an apology you’re sure he doesn’t care about receiving.

“Sorry, Brad.” You curse your clumsiness, grabbing for a napkin but getting a better idea instead. You stand and lean over him to kiss the syrup off of his chin, feeling his face split into a grin while your lips are still attached to it. You can't keep a smile off of your face either, licking your lips clean of the stickiness.

“Cuties!” Carole giggles, just as giddy of a grin on her face as is on yours and Bradley’s. You’re sure she’s ecstatic to see you getting along so well, glad to know your acting isn’t just that.

“I was telling Bradley earlier,” You speak disjointedly through a mouthful of syrupy pancakes, “When I was baking his cookies, I was thinking about the times we’ve baked together. Wanna tell’er what you did, Brad?”

“Oh,” He groans, “No. Not fair, baby, I’m bed-ridden. I’m dying,” He sticks a protective hand over his ribs, now magically unable to lift his head from the pillow, “You can’t tell embarrassing stories of me to my mom.”

“I didn’t! I offered you the chance to tell it,” You roll your eyes, wary as you hear a nurse pass by the door. Bradley’s cookie is in plain sight, and he stuffs it into his mouth for safekeeping as the footsteps pass. No one comes in, though, and he struggles to finish his mouthful.

“Oh,” Carol gushes, “Somebody tell me! I wanna know, y’know I love teasin’ you, Brad.”

“Mom!’ He gawps through a mouthful of oatmeal, “Rude!”

“What’s rude is talkin’ with your mouth full,” Carole scolds, swatting him on the shoulder, “Swallow first, mister.”

“He ate-” You start, but Bradley lunges for you with impressive agility, twisting his torso to the side to clamp a hand over your mouth. You laugh, long and loud and brash while Bradley tries to muffle it. In his haste to silence you he tries saying ‘No!’ but he’s still got a mouthful of cookie, and the crumbs that don’t get caught in his mustache rain over your legs.

You’re still laughing. It’s messy, it’s gross, there’s half-chewed cookie on your lap, but Bradley’s holding you close, his strong arms around your head while he keeps a tight grip on your mouth. He’s laughing too, chest shaking as he tries powering through the mouthful of food that he’s got. Finally he swallows, but he doesn’t let go, only blows fruitlessly at the crumbs littering your pants.

“I’m sorry,” He pants, short of breath from chuckling, “If you hadn’t been so hellbent on embarrassing me, I wouldn’t have spewed raisins into your pancakes.”

“Gross! Okay!” You laugh uncontrollably into his palm between giggles, kissing at the skin there, “Okay. You win.”

He lets up only when you stop struggling, letting yourself sink into his embrace no matter how uncomfortable. A thought prods at the back of your mind like a lightning rod, sending a jolt of pain down your spine when it reminds you that this isn’t real. But you push it away, you don’t let it paralyze you, and your smile never falls.

“I’m sorry,” You hum to Bradley, while Carole watches you with amusement dancing in her pretty eyes, as well as in her movie star smile, “I just thought your mom would have liked to hear. That’s all.”

“She would,” Bradley nods, leaning back in his bed, finally at ease, “That’s why you can’t tell her.”

“You’re no fun,” She groans, and you finish up the last of your pancakes, gathering all of the trash (and cookie crumbs) to put them in the can. You have to let go of Bradley’s hand to make it across the room but when you’re by the door you stay there, your boyfriend’s eyes trained on you like a hawk.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” You reach for the doorknob, then, while he can't reach you, “Carole, he ate vanilla extract.”

The nurse down the hall gives you a strange look as you rush to shut the door on both Bradley’s indignant shout and Carole’s gleeful giggles.

“Does he need help?” He looks at you skeptically, and you shake your head.

“We’re teasing him,” You brush the nurse’s concerns away, “Where’s the gift shop?”

True to your word, you stop by the bathroom, but your real destination is the gift shop. There’s a stuffed bear inside with fur the exact caramel shade of Bradley’s hair, and you only wish it had a mustache. Otherwise, it’s identical, flight gear on and aviators over its eyes. 

“Hi,” You greet the cashier at the counter, handing over the bear and a book you plan on reading to him in your downtime, “Just these.”

While she rings up your purchase you hear the sliding doors behind you open, and you turn to see your dad and Nick enter. Their faces light up at the sight of you, and when the cashier gives you back the bear, you show it off to them.

“Just gotta get it a mustache,” Nick tugs softly on one of the bear’s ears, “Now that’s a good lookin’ bear!”

“I was gonna get’im a movie to watch,” Your dad beelines for the DVDs, but you pull him back.

“Dad,” You murmur, walking him and Nick towards the door, “He can just use his phone. Everything here is way too expensive.” You throw a kind smile at the cashier like you hadn’t just insulted her trade, “Thank you!”, and lead the way back to Bradley’s room.

The elevator ride almost goes sour when Nick tries pushing all of the buttons at once. You’re not sure how Carole has survived living with him for this long, but you swat his hands away with an incredulous shout.

“Don’t! I wanna get these back to him,” You beg, bear and book in hand, “I’ll bet he’s so bored.”

“You seen him already?” Your dad raises a brow, and you nod.

“Carole’s there, too,” You hum, “We just finished breakfast.”

“Does he ‘member anything new?” Goose asks, and that little lightning rod comes back, tazing your brain, burning one word into the matter there; liar, liar, liar. All of a sudden the elevator is too small, and you’d rather be anywhere but.

“Nope,” You shake your head, turning to face the doors of the elevator that ding, “Nothing.”

“Bradley!” Nick cheers, seeing his son alive and well, “Made it through the night?”

“Barely. Spent more time on my phone than I did asleep,” Bradley scoffs, and your heart skips a beat, not in a good way. Again you wonder if he’s found mystifying evidence of your breakup, an unfollow on instagram or a deletion of date nights from the calendar.

You’re sure he would have brought something up if he was confused, but you’re sneaking around, and it makes you paranoid enough to believe everything will fall apart at a moment’s notice. You have no peace, not when Bradley isn’t holding you.

“Well you’re going home tonight,” Carole reminds him, stroking over his cheek fondly, “You’ll get some good rest there, Brad.”

“Hey, alright!” Your dad whoops, “They’re cuttin’ you loose?”

“After dinner,” Bradley nods, “They said if nothing weird happens I can leave.”

“Congrats, Brad.” Nick claps him on the shoulder, standing in front of the seat you’d abandoned to go get his gifts.

His gifts!

You fumble with the bag in your hands, pulling the bear out first and passing it over.

“Oh, baby,” Bradley laughs, admiring its miniscule flight gear, “Bear’s almost as handsome as me.”

“Nah, a little more.” Pete squints at it, “It doesn't have that ugly mustache.”

“Hey!”, Father and son rage in unison, and Nick slaps your dad’s arm hard enough for Bradley, too.

“Uh, Carole,” You murmur, but the soft sound catches Bradley’s attention anyways. He’s drawn to you like a fly to honey, stuck in every last drop of your sweetness.

“I need to ask your mom a favor,” You smile down at Bradley, brushing hair away from his eyes, “Can we slip out?”

“Okay,” He hums skeptically, “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise,” You drag your voice out dramatically, leaning down to peck at his forehead. His skin is warm to the touch, and feels comforting against your lips.

“We’ll keep’im busy,” Nick declares, taking the book that you hand him, “Want me to read to you, Brad?”

“No.”

“Too bad! Ooh, Little Women. Wanna do voices with me, Mav?”

You and Carole step out before Nick or your dad could pull out any high-pitched giggles, and Bradley’s mom looks at you worriedly.

“What is it, baby doll?”

“I need help,” You confess, “If Bradley’s coming home tonight, he’s gonna notice a hell of a lot of stuff missing from our place. I just took everything I could grab and I ran,” You recall, dry swallowing at the thought of the boxes piled into your motel room, “I can’t put everything back by myself, and I- I don’t want to force you to help, but my dad and NIck can’t know, and-”

“Slow down, sugar,” She hums, reaching out to rub a soothing hand up and down your arm, “I’ll help you. What do we got, clothes and shoes?”

“And books, and toiletries, and... puzzles.” You concede drearily.

“Baby,” Carole arches a brow, looking almost sympathetically at you, “You brought puzzles with you?”

“I thought I’d be bored!” You reason, shoulders stiff to your ears, “But I haven’t had much of an appetite for puzzling.”

“Alright, I’ll help you,” She promises, “How long are we gonna need, honey?”

“A few hours,” You shrug, “We can carpool to base, I’ll pick up his Bronco, and we can head to the motel I’ve been at to get my stuff. We’ll need the extra space in the back of his car.”

“Okay! Okay,” Carole gushes, and you think she’s almost a little exhilarated by this spy operative, “Let’s stay for lunch, then we’ll go. We’ll say- uh, the house needs cleaning!”

‘Perfect,” You rub at your temples, “Thanks, Carole. And- and we’ll buy party decorations,” You snap your fingers, “I told him we were out here talking about a surprise, so we’ll throw a little welcome home thing tomorrow, have cake or something. That’s our alibi.”

“Got it! I’m off to the bathroom,” She heads down the hallway, “Get back in there!”

“-told you, I’m Jo!” Your dad is standing squared to Nick, eyes narrowed and shoulders tight, “It’s not fair that you get to be everyone!”

“Well if you did the voices right, I wouldn’t have to take over everything,” Nick huffs, “Tell’im Brad, that was a shitty Beth impression!”

“Both of you suck,” Bradley drawls, his eyes tracking you intently as you slip back into the room, “Baby, you okay?”

You shake off any residual nerves from your scheming with Carole, nodding as light-heartedly as you can, “Yeah! Yeah, Brad,” You take your seat beside him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tight, “I’m okay.”

He doesn’t look like he believes you. He's always good at reading you, and everything about you right now is a lie. You smile at him, leaning in to kiss his cheek, but he doesn’t react like you want him to, he still doesn’t believe you. He studies you when you pull away, and you laugh in defeat, “I promise, I’m just exhausted from all of this. But that shouldn’t matter, I wasn’t the one whose jet crashed! As soon as we get you home I’ll be fine.”

That seems to work, clearing away the worry swirling in Bradley’s honey-colored eyes. He nods, smiling softly, “Yeah, me too.”

He takes your hand, and you’re starting to wonder how you’d ever survived without holding his. You hadn’t held hands this frequently even when you’d been together, not that Bradley knows there’s a difference. Your heart aches for the man beside you, how shaken up he must be to cling to you like a lost puppy.

While Nick and Pete argue you feel Bradley’s fingers slip from yours, and it’s such an unexpected motion that you turn to watch him. He’s looking intently at your hand, though there's an absent-minded air about him, and your stomach drops when he ghosts his rough thumb gently over your ring finger. 

“Brad?” You murmur, trying to keep from choking up, “‘Love you.”

He smiles, eyes trained back on yours and full of tenderness, “Love you too, sweetheart. Where’s my mom?”

“Bathroom,” You drop your eyes down to his hands, studying his own bare ring finger. You hope you get to see it decorated one day.

“Do you want me to read to you?” You look back up at him, your nose nearly bumping his cheek. Nick has left the book on the side table near the foot of Bradley’s bed in order to gesture with both hands, and you’re sure they wouldn’t notice if you lit it on fire where it sat.

“I’d love for you to read to me,” Bradley laughs breathily, “I haven’t been hearing your voice much lately. Not like I used to.”

“I know,” You lament, hoping your voice doesn’t tremble. You know he means unobscured, private, without beeping in the background and the ever-present threat of a nurse coming in to kick you out, but you hadn’t heard Bradley’s voice in weeks, so you understand the internal yearning.

“Come here,” Bradley suggests when you fetch the book, offering up the right side of his bed. It’s small, nothing you wouldn’t attempt at home but something you don’t want to risk in the hospital.

“No, it’s okay, Brad.” You shake your head, trying to pat the blankets down around him but he doesn’t let you, reaching for your thigh.

“No, I don’t wanna hurt you!” You insist, standing when he tries dragging you into the bed with him, “It’s okay, Brad, let’s just sit. We can be closer when we’re home, but for now I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He looks crushed. Really, truly crushed, his brown eyes holding such a vulnerable look in them that you feel like you’ve just punted a puppy across a football field.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” You repeat, swallowing thickly as tears prick at your eyes. You lean down to kiss his forehead, “I’m scared, Bradley.”

You’re scared about more than just that. You haven’t held him in weeks, nor has he held you. You’re afraid that you might never recover from this, but if he wraps his arms around you, buries his face in your hair and holds you close, you know you never will. You’ll spend the rest of your days living in regret, and your self-preservation instinct is kicking in again.

“Don’t be afraid,” Bradley murmurs, though he doesn’t need to be quiet now that Nick and your dad have stopped bickering. They’re stealing sneaky glances at the two of you, acting like their sunglasses stop them from being noticed even though their heads are turned towards you.

His words strike something within you that he didn’t mean for them to. He’s spoken unknowingly to your outstanding promise with yourself, that you won’t run away because something is scary. And your promise to Carole, as well, that you’ll make her son feel loved before he remembers that love wasn’t enough to make you stay.

“Bradley,” You breathe, book in one hand as you use the other to stroke through his hair. You’re standing at his bedside and he takes advantage of your proximity, sitting up and off of his pillows to lean his head against your stomach. 

You’re glad he can’t see your face, because tears rush from your eyes in seconds. He’s a sweet man whose brain operates on love first, and thought second, so when he hooks his arms around your waist and nestles his face into your tummy, you know it’s his instinct to hold you. 

At the sight of your tears the other men in the room decide to take their leave, smiling sadly at you while you comb your fingers through Bradley’s hair. 

“We’ll give you some time,” Your dad whispers, but Bradley can hear just fine, “Bye, honey.”

You aren’t able to offer them a wave in response, but they know you appreciate it. 

Once more the sterile hospital room is inhabited by only you and Bradley. Souls intertwined, tangled in some places and parallel in others, you hold him, stroking through his hair and praying he never picks his face up out of your stomach. There’s snot threatening to run down your lip but you don’t dare sniffle at the thought of ruining the moment, keeping your chest deathly still where it yearns to shake with sobs.

“I love you,” You whimper, dropping the book to cage his head to your belly, “I love you, Bradley, I- I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” He speaks into your stomach, and the sound vibrates through your body, warming you with a tingly sensation like the one you’d gotten from your very first kiss with Bradley.

You’re sure he knows you’re crying now, now that your voice drips with tears and your hands shake in his scalp. He doesn't break away, though, only tugs you closer, keeping his face nestled to your body as he pulls you into a sitting position on his lap. You’re mindful of his broken ribs, but there’s nothing wrong with his thighs, so when you land on top of them, you let yourself rest there. 

Bradley’s wormed his nose against your cheek, no longer snug in your stomach but flush to your face instead. He holds you like he used to, before you spooked and ran, before he fell out of the sky in a blaze of flames, before anything in your life was complicated. He holds you like he held you when you were just Y/N and Bradley, cradling your face to his chest and tucking his chin over your head.

“You’re hurting, too,” He murmurs, rocking you ever-so-slightly back and forth as you sit sideways on his lap. He keeps you tucked to his chest, smooths your hair with one hand and holds your waist with the other. 

“I’m the one that went down but you’re the one who got that phone call,” He moves his hand from your hair to your back, scratching aimlessly there, “You’re allowed to be upset over that. You don’t have to pretend like nothing is wrong just because I’m in the hospital. I don’t want you to pretend to be strong if it’s only gonna make you weaker. Talk to me, honey, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t!” You wail, clutching his hospital gown and praying you aren’t hurting his ribs, “Bradley, I- I can’t tell you. I can’t do that to you, not here, not now. I’m scared,” You weep, “I’m really scared, Bradley.”

“Don’t be. You’re okay,” He promises, pecking a soft kiss against the crown of your head, “Baby, you’re safe with me. You don’t have to be scared of anything. Of talking, or feeling, or hurting. That’s what I’m here for, angel, to talk with you, to feel with you, to hurt with you. That’s what love is, honey, and I love you, you know I do.”

His voice wobbles slightly on the last fragment of his sentence, and you don’t think you can handle seeing him cry. You’re terrified out of your mind, but determined just the same not to run, and it’s stuck you in this awful paralyzed state. All you can do is hold Bradley, all you can do is let him hold you, and hope that his memories never return.

“I don’t want to stress you out,” You mourn, picking your head up from his chest to press it to his face instead. You want to fuse yourself to him, so that he couldn’t cast you away if he tried.

“I’m stressed about whatever you’re not telling me,” He laughs sadly, a soft huff of air from his chest, “Baby, it makes me stressed knowing you’re shutting yourself in like this. Knowing there’s stuff going on up here that you don’t want to talk to me about.” 

He taps your head, then smooths his hand down the nape of your neck to rub at your back.

“Tell me,” He begs, voice raw with despair, “Please, angel, tell me what you’re feeling.”

You owe him the truth. Concealing the truth was one thing. Sneaking around, covering up behind his back so that he didn’t notice anything peculiar was a preventative measure. But now he’s asked for your honesty, now it’ll be lying if you don’t tell him. Now you’ll be lying to him, really and truly lying to him, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. You choose honor this time, sniffling hard and bracing your hand on his chest so that you can look him in the eyes if you feel brave enough.

“Bradley,” Your words roll off of your tongue with the weight of steel, and you have to force them out of your throat to get them to go at all, “I want to be honest with you. But I’m scared-” Your face crumples, and you fight to right it, “But- but that’s not fair to you. It’s not fair for me to shut you out, You’re right, you-” You falter, the pitch of your voice wobbly as you take a deep breath, “You love me. And I know I can be honest with you.”

“You can,” Bradley promises, stroking his knuckles over your cheek. He stares into your eyes, and you stare into his only to get a last glimpse of their sweet honey-like hue.

“You should know,” You drop your eyes, unable to confess while looking into his, “I love you, Bradley. I always have, and I always will.”

“I love you, too,” He promises, “Now what’s the matter, honey?”

“It’s-”

“Mr. Bradshaw?” A nurse steps into the room, and instantly the moment is shattered. There’s no picking up the pieces, no glue in the world strong enough to repair the bravery you’d mustered up to be honest with Bradley. 

He looks annoyed at her interruption, something you know he wouldn’t normally feel towards anyone doing their job, but he refrains from snapping at her.

“Yes?”

“We need to run some vital tests. Blood sugar, heart rate, breathing, the like. After they’re cleared, we’ll know if you can return home or not.”

From his hold on you, you gather that there’s nothing Bradley would rather do less in the world than let you go, and there’s nothing you’d rather do less than let him, but you peel away from him reluctantly, standing where you’d been tucked into his lap. He settles back against his pillows that you’re sure are cold now, and you tuck the blanket beneath his thigh to keep him warm.

He ducks his gaze and you see tears lining his eyes that you want to wipe away, but he grabs for your hand again, and you hope that’s enough for him.

The nurse pokes and prods at him, reads machines and scribbles their information down, and the door opens once again before she’s done conducting her tests. Carole, Nick, and Pete step back through the doors, smiling sheepishly at you. You have a sneaking suspicion that Nick and your dad had held Carole off from coming back to the room while you spoke, which you’re grateful for. You just wish you'd had a little more time.

“Alright,” The nurse claps, smiling cheerily like she hadn’t just shattered your moment, “You are in good shape, Mr. Bradshaw. Your blood sugar is a little high,” She notes with a furrowed brow, and you shoot a knowing glance at Bradley, “But everything else seems right. Your ribs should heal within a few weeks time, and once you get back home and see familiar surroundings, your memories should return. All you need to do is rest, once I get these processed and signed off by the doctor, you’ll be good to go!”

“Thank you,” Carole gushes, while Bradley just nods with a tight smile on his face, jaw tight in irritation at the four unwanted parties in the room.

“Goin’ home, big guy.” Nick grins at Bradley as the nurse makes her leave. He claps his son on the leg and this time Carole doesn’t intervene, “What’s the first thing you’re gonna do?”

“Shower,” Bradley rasps, “There’s ash in my hair.”

“Not anymore,” You showcase your hands, dust and ash clinging to the spaces between your fingers from when you’d run them through Bradley’s hair. 

He laughs at the sight, “Still. The second thing on my list is sleep, and I don’t want to get anything on the sheets.”

“Good plan,” Carole beams at her son, hooking her arm around yours, “Baby, we should head out. We’ve got lots to do for this surprise of yours,” She gloats at Bradley, then turns back to you, “But you should wash your hands first, honey.”

“Okay,” You nod, eager to get out of a situation you’d been so courageous in only minutes before, “I’ll- um, get my stuff.”

You bend towards your purse, taking the bag of cookies out, “If your blood sugar rises and lands you in here for another night,” You warn, “I’m never making these again.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bradley nods, but your dad is the one to take the bag, not him.

“Don’t steal them,” You narrow your eyes at your dad and Nick, “And don’t get caught feeding him any. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am!” They echo Bradley, standing at attention. You scoff, turning back to Bradley and leaning down to meet him where he lays back on his pillows.

“I love you,” You hum, and he’s already reaching out for you before you can touch him. He sits upright, grabbing for your hands and tilting his face upwards to beg for a kiss.

“I love you, too,” He mumbles, speaking lowly against your lips as you kiss him. When you pull away he wants more, keeping your hands firmly in his grip when you try to leave.

“Bradley,” You let out a soft laugh, but you kiss him again anyways, knowing he’s still reeling from being a second away from finding out the truth, the extent of which he’s not prepared for.

“It’s okay,” You whisper against his lips, pressing your forehead to his, “We’ll talk later.”

”Yeah,” He nods, arching up into your embrace even though he knows he has to let you leave.

He calls out again before you leave, “Love you!” And you repeat it with a sad smile on your face, letting Carole take your hand while Nick and your dad sit at Bradley’s bedside. The last you see of him is his fading grin as you wave goodbye before the door shuts, and you’re in the hallway.

“Something happened in there,” She gushes, misplaced excitement shining from her eyes like a sunbeam, “I just know it! He was all lovey-dovey when you left, even moreso than usual. He really didn’t want you to go, angel.”

“I almost told him,” You mutter as Carole leads you to the elevator, nerves churning your stomach.

“What?” Her smile drops in surprise, and she stomps to a halt on the tiled floor. She presses the button, and when the elevator dings she ushers you inside.

“He asked me to be honest with him,” You recall, sick at the thought of how close you’d been to losing him, “And- and he was holding me, Carole, like he used to. And I couldn’t help it, I just- I wanted to tell him everything, I couldn’t stand lying to him and pretending nothing was wrong. But I- I don’t know if I can do that again. I don’t know if I can tell him the truth. I tried, and we got interrupted, I mean- isn’t that a sigh? Some sort of clue left by the universe to tell me to wait a little longer?”

“Baby I don’t think the universe is sendin’ you clues,” Carole looks sympathetically at you, “I think you’re lookin’ for reasons to run away again. I know I’m the one that told you to pretend, but that boy can read you like a book, and if he’s catchin’ on, maybe you ‘oughta give it up. I saw him in there, honey.” The door dings and slides open, and she takes your hand to lead you outside, “There’s nothin’ he wouldn’t forgive you for. He was clinging onto you like a leech, and I think he’d understand you were scared. Might not like it, but he’d understand.”

“He keeps saying that I’ll never lose him, or- or that he loves me, or that I can tell him what’s bothering me,” You gesture with your free hand as you walk to the parking lot, “And- and it feels so perfect! Like he knows exactly what I need to hear. Like I could tell him and nothing would change. But everything would change, and- and I don’t want that,” You suppress a sob as you reach Nick and Carole’s car, pulling open the door to the passenger’s side. 

She stashes her purse by your feet, stuffing the key into the ignition, “Baby, everything’s already changed. He just doesn’t know that. But he will soon, and once he does, he’s gonna realize why you’ve been acting so weird. If you were pullin’ it off, I’d say keep going. If he wasn’t asking questions, you could keep this up, ‘cause you’d be doing him a favor. That was the whole point, baby, to let him down nice and easy, give him a bit of time to adjust to the crash before confessing about the breakup. But I should’ve known he’d realize you were lyin' to him,” She scoffs, checking her mirrors, “That boy would notice you’d changed your haircut from just your voice on the phone. He knows you too well, honey, and if he’s askin’ all the right questions and you’re giving him all the wrong answers, that’s gonna stress him out. And that’s doing the opposite of what we want. If this is just gonna make things worse, I say tell him. But-” She backs out of the spot, en route to base to fetch his car, “Not yet. Wait until you’re home. Then he’s in a familiar environment, you can kneel by the bedside and grovel if you want,” She waves a hand in the air, “Just be honest with him baby, if it’s what he’s askin’ for.”

She barely lets you mull her words over before she starts again, “I think it’s a good time. You told me that when you left, you wish you hadn’t. And you’ve spent the last two days showing that to him, even if he doesn’t know that’s what you’re doing. He knows you love him, and I think he’ll forgive you if you confess that you were just scared of losing him. ‘Cause you can’t fake love like that, honey.” She eyes you through the mirror, “You can pretend y’all never broke up, but the way you love him, that’s not pretend, and he knows that.”

“I’ll tell him tomorrow,” You sniffle, “If he doesn’t know by then. I- I know I have to, even if it’s scary.”

“Atta girl,” She gushes, nearly flooring it at a green light in her excitement, “I’m proud of you, baby.”

“Don’t be,” You grumble, ‘Not yet. Not until I do it.”

“I know you will,” She decides, “You’ve never lied to me before.”

“Actually,” You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, “I have, once.”

She narrows her eyes, gives you a sideways glance as she makes a turn, “Oh, really? And when was that?”

“Uh, when we were in high school, I told you Bradley and I were staying at my place while my dad was gone,” Your face twists into an involuntary smile at the memory, “We went to Vegas.”

“What?” She shrieks, almost stomping on the breaks, “Vegas?”

“It was just for a night! And we didn’t gamble,” You scoff, “They wouldn’t let us into any casinos.”

“Ooh, you two,” She seethes, but it’s happened so long ago that she can’t be mad, not really, “Surprised y’all didn’t get married down there.”

“Actually,” You laugh, “We tried. But you weren’t there to sign off on it, and we were only 17.”

She shares a laugh with you at the memory, pulling into the security checkpoint outside of the naval base. You have to pass your ID over her, and you explain that you’re just picking up your partner’s car. They let you in, but you don’t think they like your presence very much, so you get the car and go as quickly as you can.

“It’s the motel just off the freeway,” You gesture in the direction of the place you’ve been staying, “We’ll load up the Bronco and meet back at our place.”

“See you there, babydoll,” Carole grins, already headed for the exit.

You roll up your window just as your phone buzzes, and you put the call on speaker while your phone balances on the cupholder.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” Bradley’s voice bleeds through the crackly speakers. Then, like an attached toddler their first night away from mom, “I miss you.”

It’s just what you need to hear after your gut-wrenching conversation with Carole, and you croon while waving to the security officers on the way out, “I miss you too, Brad. I picked up your car. Didn’t want her sitting all alone on base.”

“Thanks, babe,” You can hear the grin in his voice, “Is my mom still with you?”

“No, she’s driving herself,” You merge lanes, brain on autopilot as you head for the motel, “And don’t ask what we’re doing, it’s a surprise.”

He scoffs; you’ve caught him, “Fine. They gave me lunch. It’s the same as yesterday.”

“Poor baby,” You coo, feeling more at home in Bradley’s Bronco than you had in your half-empty house, “I’ll make you something good for breakfast tomorrow, baby. Eggs, pancakes, waffles, sausage, bacon, fruit, whatever you want to eat.”

He takes a pause, then, “I have something inappropriate to say. But your dad’s still here, so I can’t.”

You let out a bark of bewildered laughter, especially when you can hear your dad’s voice in the background as he groans.

“I get the idea,” You promise him, and you hear Bradley huff a soft laugh into the speaker. You almost want to record the call, just to keep the sound forever.

“When are you guys coming back?”

“I don’t know, Brad,” You lament, tailing Carole as she heads for the freeway exit, “Hopefully before dinner. But if not, I’ll definitely be there when you get discharged, and I can drive you home.”

“And we can shower,” Bradley adds on to your sentence, eliciting another disgruntled sound from your dad, “And sleep.”

“And we can shower and sleep,” You promise, chest feeling light at the night’s plan. You’re pulling into the motel parking lot now, the dingy sign colored more in spiderwebs than in neon.

“I’ve gotta go, Brad.” You put the car in park, grabbing your phone and switching speaker off, “I love you. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He’s hesitant to answer, and you wish you didn’t have to hang up. You know he’s still uneasy about the way that your talk ended earlier, but he finally speaks up, “Alright. Love you, too.”

“So much,” You hum, “Love you so much.”

“So much,” He agrees, more of that audible grin in his voice, “See you later, angel.”

“See ‘ya,” You hum, and it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would to hang up, not after that.

Carole’s standing ready at the strip of doors, and you pull the small, rusty key out of your pocket. There’s nearly ten boxes stacked in your room, and you prop the door open with one as you gather anything that isn’t packed away.

You haven’t changed clothes much since being there, nor have you been keeping up with your hygiene as well as you should be, so the clean-up process feels like a day's worth, not two week’s worth. But you’re thankful for the easy pickup as you load it into a half-empty box, hauling it out the door and to the Bronco.

Packing the boxes goes fast when you work with Carole. It had been much more of a struggle to cart two at a time from your place to the motel room, but with a little maneuvering, all nine boxes fit snugly between her car and yours.

“Alright,” You dust off your hands, picking at the edge of your nail, “You ready?”

“Actually, you go home,” She decides, “And I’ll go to the party supply store. I’ll pick up some ‘Welcome Home’ stuff, and when I get back I’ll help you with the rest of the boxes, and we can set up together.”

“Perfect,” You heave a sigh of relief, “Thanks, Carole.”

“Of course, baby!” She seems to have a never-ending supply of optimism, one that you’re thankful for because you seem to harbor the opposite.

Hauling your boxes back into the house is unexpectedly the easy part. What’s harder is putting everything back, filling in the gaps in the bookshelf with your own volumes, stuffing the dresser with the clothes you’d chosen to take with you.

When Carole gets back you’re dragging your thumb over the shirt you’d taken off of your pillow, ready to fold it and destroy the evidence of its association with your two-week disappearance. She peeks into the bedroom, expecting to find you hard at work organizing your novels, and instead sees you sitting on the bed looking like you’re going to puke.

“Baby,” She hums, “What’s the matter?”

“He put this over my pillow,” You sniffle, staring down forlornly at the object that had offered comfort to Bradley when you hadn’t, “He slept with it.”

“Oh, baby,” Carole whispers, standing behind you and rubbing your shoulders, “He loves you. Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you think it means everything’ll turn out okay?”

“What if he doesn’t want me back?”

For the first time, you say it out loud. You’ve insinuated it, sure, thought about it, but you’ve never said it yet. Not out loud. You voice the fear that’s been bouncing around like a balloon in your head, popping it and feeling the aftershocks flow through you. 

She’s quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say any more than you do. But she bends down, wraps her arms around your shoulders and hums, “He will, baby. He’s been sleepin’ with your shirt this whole time, he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t miss you.”

“But even if he misses me, I still hurt him,” You sniffle, “I- I left, is missing me enough for him to want me back in his life? What if I went too far? What if we can’t come back from this? What if I lose him forever, Carole?”

“He kept my ring.” She murmurs, her voice the calm to your storm. 

“What?”

“He kept it. Even though it wasn’t on your finger, he didn’t give it back to me. And he wouldn’t dare give that to anyone else, Y/N. It’s your ring, he knows it. That’s why he kept it, ‘cause he still wanted you to have it. He loves you even if you did hurt him, baby,” She sniffles, and you feel bad that you’ve made her cry, “That’s what love is. Sometimes you hurt each other, but if it’s love you find your way back. And what you’ve got is the strongest love I’ve ever seen.”

Your silence is enough of a reply, and you’re glad because it’s all you can muster. You can’t find the words to thank her, to tell her you hope she’s right, to beg to whatever deity exists for mercy. All you can say is, “I don’t wanna take it off,” As you stroke a finger down the shirt over your pillow.

“Wear it,” She suggests, pulling at the sweatshirt you’re wearing, “Put that on underneath it, baby. He won’t notice, and you can have it on you as a reminder that he misses you. Maybe it’ll give you the courage to tell him.”

“Okay,” You sniff, a stray tear drying sticky on your cheek as you stand. She turns you around and pulls you into a real hug, and you let her squeeze you before going to the bathroom to change.

The shirt smells like Bradley now that he’s slept with it for two weeks. You’re sure you’re just immune to your own scent, and that he could still find traces of it to lull him to sleep at night, but wearing it now feels just as comforting as you bet it felt for him to sleep with it.

When you wander out of the bedroom you find Carole in the living room. She’s standing on your coffee table with her right leg, and her left is on the arm of the couch. She’s pinning a banner to the wall, ‘Welcome Home Bradley!’.

“Hey honey!” She beams at the sight of you in your shirt, you’d forgone the jacket to not overheat while moving things around. 

“Do you need help?” You watch her drive a pin into the wall with her thumb, and she shakes her head as she reaches down for another one, “No, I’ve got this. You just take care of your boxes, I can handle the party.”

“Yeah, you get the fun part,” You tease, and she laughs.

“Darlin’, I wasn’t the one to take my puzzles and run. Now go put ‘em back, I’m sure they’re the first things Brad’ll notice are missing when he gets home.”

You head back into the bedroom without any complaints. It’s hard to put everything back. No, it’s nice to put everything back. What’s hard is pretending it was never gone in the first place; what’s hard is lying.

You slide a lone book into its place on the shelf, one last spot left beside a photo album. Your fingers brush over a gemstone on the cover and you tug at the hefty spine, catching the jam-packed book before it can fall.

“Wow,” You breathe, barely aware that you’re speaking out loud. The cover showcases Bradley pressed up against the hospital’s nursery glass, peering in on a very sleepy baby you snoozing in her bassinet with Carole holding him up. You’d been born shortly after Bradley, not even a year, and he’d been very excited to meet his new best friend at the hospital.

A flip to the first page finds you in your dad’s old apartment, sleeping in your crib while Bradley’s hand wraps around the bars he’d pulled himself up on. Then the next page showcases a photo of him in the crib, curled up in the space by your feet while you sleep peacefully in your own spot.

You take the photo out of its sleeve, flipping it over to read the inscription you know by heart on the back: Bradley’s attached to Y/N at the hip. Won’t sleep anywhere else.

The next photos are more of the same. Bradley holding you on the couch, a gummy grin on his face at the baby in his arms. His hands barely bigger than yours, handing you a toy fighter jet. Tummy time on a play mat, where he’s holding a rattle just out of reach to get you to crawl like he’d seen your parents do. A shot of you tugging on his wispy hair, then a shot of Nick dragging a crying Bradley into his lap while your dad holds your previously clenched fist open. They tell their own story.

You’d been fated best friends from the start, but as you age in the photos, your relationship changes. All of a sudden there’s puppy love in your gaze when you reach your tween years, braces in your mouth and hearts in your eyes. There’s a picture of Bradley teaching you how to skateboard, and you're holding his hands for dear life. You distinctly remember a fiery flush to your cheeks in that moment, and you’re glad the camera hadn’t captured it. There’s New Year’s Eve in your matching pajamas, you cradled in Bradley’s arms like they’d make you pose every year since you’d come into the world. It was cute when you were kids, then it was embarrassing when you were teenagers, and now it’s cute again. In the photo you’re looking at you can’t be more than fourteen, and you know the second the shutter clicked on the camera, you’d scrambled out of his arms like they were burning you. 

You flip through more pages, watching your relationship blossom from friends into lovers. All of a sudden you’re holding hands, you’re matching outfits, and you’re kissing when you think no one is looking. Then there’s the famous picture of Bradley on his 18th birthday, glaring at the camera with a box of condoms in his hands, courtesy of his dad. Funnily enough, your dad shares Bradley’s expression in the background. The inscription on the back of that one reads: Just making sure he’s safe! Don’t want any grandkids, not while I’m still in my glory days - Goose.

That New Year’s Eve photo is special. It’s you still cradled in Bradley’s arms like always, but you’ve leaned up to kiss him, and he’s leaned down to kiss you. You distinctly remember it being the first time you’d willingly kissed on camera in front of your parents, and the giddy smiles you’d forced into makeshift puckers are clear as day in the photo. 

The matching pajama sets you’ve outgrown together are all stored in a box marked ‘sentimental’, not one that you’d taken with you when you’d left. You have a current pair, red and black buffalo print bottoms with fuzzy black tops, and you plan on asking Bradley to wear them tonight.

You haven’t noticed, but a smile has grown on your face, etching itself into your features as you relive your love story. You flip through family vacations, holidays, birthdays, sports games, barbecues, a million family events that Bradley joined you at. There’s never any of you apart, even though he’d been moved around for his career, because no one has ever thought to take a picture of one of you without the other. There’s no Y/N in this book, there’s no Bradley, there’s only Y/N and Bradley, and that’s what you want to be for the rest of your life. You want to fill out the rest of this book with aging photos, clearer in quality while the old ones yellow. You want to stuff this book until the bindings rip, you want to look back through it one day in a rocking chair beside one of Bradley’s own, faces wrinkled and hair grayed. Your story can’t end here.

Your phone buzzes on the bed, and you drop the photo album there while you check your message. No surprise, it’s from Bradley.

- The doctor signed off, I can go home after dinner, which shouldn’t be too much longer. How’s it going over there?

That’s great! You type back, biting a smile off of your face as you respond. It’s residual from looking through the photos, but you have to remember, you’re not there yet. It’s going good. Your mom is scary agile.

- What’s she doing?

Can’t tell you ;)

- Damn! Thought I had you there. Your dad’s eating one of my cookies :(

Tell him I said to leave you alone!

- He says you’re not the boss of him.

Tell him your mom said to leave you alone.

- He says she’s not the boss of him.

Tell your dad to tell him to leave you alone. She’s his boss.

- My dad’s eating one too :( 

Those assholes! I’ll make you more, baby ❤

- I love you best. ❤

I love you too baby ❤

The lingering fear of a breakup - a real one this time, one that doesn't rewind itself amidst burning jet fuel - is stuck in the back of your mind, and you suspect it will be until you finally confess. But the photo album and Bradley’s messages have combined to lift your spirits, and filing your shoes back into their places doesn’t weigh you down as much as you suspected it would. You try to make them look haphazard, jumbling them with Bradley’s and turning a few of them upside down. You two are notorious for having out of control shoe collections, Bradley’s sneakers and your own shoes constantly tumbling out of the closet like a cartoon.

 By the time the sun starts setting early on your California dream you’re nearly done, there’s just a few last garments to slip into your closet. You do so while wrestling with the clothes that are already in there, a hefty collection that leaves little room for the dress you’re trying to wedge inside. Nevertheless, a too-full closet is better than a half-empty one.

“Sugar?” Carole calls from down the hallway, hopefully not precariously balanced on any furniture this time, “Nick says they’re just serving Brad his dinner.”

You finally manage to set the clothes right on their hangers, panting slightly as you withdraw from the closet, “Okay! I’m almost done. We have a lot of clothes.”

She laughs, “Yes you do! You should eat somethin’ before we leave.”

“There’s no food here,” You sigh, “The fridge is empty. I’ll have to go shopping later. I’ll just stop for fast food on the way.”

“Party’s all set up,” Carole nods, jerking her head back towards the hallway, “If you keep the lights off in the living room tonight, he won’t see it until tomorrow.”

“Okay. Are you coming over to celebrate?”

“Yeah, I was thinkin’ for breakfast,” Carole nods, “We can bring food?”

You laugh huffily, “I wasn’t kidding about there being nothing in the fridge. Anything’s appreciated, thanks, Carole.”

“Anytime, baby,” She beams, but reconsiders with a slightly furrowed brow, “Although, I hope this is the only time.”

“Me too,” You scoff, “Alright, let’s head back.”

True to your word, you pull through a fast-food drive-thru on the way back to the hospital. Carole knows Nick’s order, and you know your dad’s, hopeful that they’ll be tired of hospital cuisine and yearning for a burger instead.

However, when you get there, they’re waiting in the lobby, Bradley sat between them. You hadn’t realized how early they were letting him out, and Carole takes the bag of food from you so that you can properly hug Bradley. He stands the moment he sees you, eyes pooling with such urgency as he tries to respect the no-running rule of the hospital. You struggle just the same, and the moment you’re within arms reach of each other, tears start flowing. Bradley yanks you into his chest, almost tipping you forwards and himself backwards with the momentum of his hug. His chin nestles straight over your shoulder, as does yours to his, and it’s the kind of hug you get from him after a long deployment, maybe even more desperate now. His breathing is ragged beside your ear, but not from his medical conditions, from the desperation clogging his lungs. His fist is tight in the back of your sweatshirt but the fabric is loose on you, and it’s not a tight enough hold for him. His fingers scrabble for the shirt beneath the hoodie, gripping onto both garments and keeping you closer than you ever thought you could be with Bradley. Your hands immediately encircle his shoulders, and your fingers find purchase against the baby hairs at the back of his neck. You scratch through the ones at his nape, hearing him sniffle sharply where his chin rests on your shoulder. The hand that isn’t fisted in your clothes is tight to your hip, gripping you so hard that you can feel his nails through the jeans you’re wearing. It’s not painful, it’s just firm, and its strength is reassuring. It’s grounding to hug Bradley again, unobscured by breathing tubes, hospital beds, or prying nurses.

You hear someone’s phone camera sound off, but you’re far from discouraging it. In fact, you’re going to ask whoever it was to send you the photo later. The hug turns into an embrace, one where you sway lightly from side to side, anything that isn’t you or Bradley fading into the background. Your eyes are screwed shut but tears still cascade down your cheeks, melancholy waterfalls that drip off of the curve of your chin and stain Bradley’s t-shirt. He’s dressed in what he’d been wearing beneath his flight suit, the material thankfully not ripped or burnt thanks to the coveralls. You take the lead, pulling back, but he keeps the same level of contact with you. When your chin slips from his shoulder he grabs your face instead, using it to keep you pressed tight to his body. His eyes are teary themselves, streaks of the shimmery stuff down his cheeks and probably in his mustache, too.

“Hi,” You croak, smiling giddily through your tears. 

He smiles, though the chubbing of his cheeks nudges a few more tears out of his eyes, “Hi.”

You smear them away with the palm of your hand, and use your thumb to rid him of the ones clinging to his undereyes. His hands are on your cheeks, too, and he tries mirroring your ministrations, but his thumbs are too shaky to do so. For fear of poking your eyes out, he clamps his hands over your cheeks again, content with holding you while your tears run over the hills and valleys of his fingers.

“You’re standing,” You marvel, ‘I thought you’d be in a wheelchair.”

“It hurts a little bit,” Bradley admits with a slight grimace, and you back away like you’ve been struck. He doesn’t let you get far at all, dropping your face to tug you back by your waist, “-but I’d rather break another rib than let you go.”

“Sap,” You accuse, and Bradley laughs.

His lips twist into a sheepish smile, “Maybe. You can be my tree. I’m stuck on you.”

You sniffle, brow furrowing, “Huh? ‘Cause of the sap thing?”

“Yeah,” He laughs, “Isn’t that what it means? Sticky and sweet like tree sap?”

“I don’t know,” You breathe bashfully, your voice rife with part confusion and part sheepishness, “I guess that makes sense. But I’ve never been called a tree before.”

“I’ll work on my flirting,” He promises, stroking his thumbs up and down your sides in soft, soothing motions, “Can we go home now?”

You nod, “You should hug your mom first.” Only then does Bradley remember that you’re not the only other person in the room, turning in your grip to see your mini crowd of adoring onlookers.

He chuckles, “Sorry. Hi, mom.”

“Hi baby,” She gushes, letting him squeeze her in a hug. He’s much more gentle with her, out of longing for you, not disrespect.

Nick reaches over to ruffle his hair and your dad nudges you sideways, “Happy to have him back?”

“Yeah,” You gush, a breathless whisper, “Nervous, though,” You admit, “What if he slips in the shower, or something? Or- or some freak accident happens and he doesn’t wake up?”

“He will,” Your dad slings an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you close by your shoulders, “He’ll be alright, kid. And hopefully by tomorrow he’ll remember everything, maybe look at some pictures tonight to jog his memory. Show him stuff you took of these past few weeks, the places you went or the food you ate.”

You don’t have any pictures of your pitiful motel room, nor the candy bars you’d raided the minifridge for, but you wouldn’t show them to Bradley if you did.

You nod, breaking away when Bradley searches for you after his hug with Carole, “Thanks, dad.”

“You gonna be okay getting settled tonight, Brad?” Nick asks, already bringing a french fry to his mouth from the bag in his hand. Your dad has your food as well as his own, and you take your bag back from him as Bradley nods.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. Thanks, guys.”

Everyone says their hasty goodbyes, and your hug with Carole lasts a second longer than you hope anyone notices.

“Tell him.” She whispers against your ear, the words a feather light breath, “He loves you.”

“I’ll feed you in the car,” Bradley grabs the bag of food from your hand when you nudge him towards the exit, “Can I have fries?”

“You’ve been on a diet of chicken and potatoes for two days,” You take the hand that he offers you, curling your fingers around his, “You can have the whole burger if you want, Brad.”

Bradley stops short in front of the bronco when he sees it, “There she is!”

“She’s here,” You laugh, “Perfect condition. The air freshener’s still good.”

“Poor baby,” He heads for the passenger’s seat, swiping a hand over the hood of the car on his way, “She probably thought we forgot about her.”

He settles comfortably in the passenger’s seat, though you’re sure it feels awkward to be there in his own car. He throws his head back against the seat and sighs, long and loud, a noise he would have made fun of his dad for making mere years ago.

“Comfy?” You glance sideways at him, your food in his lap while he rests against the seat. He nods, reaching for the bag as you start up the engine.

“Here baby,” He calls, popping two fries in front of your mouth just before you turn out of the parking lot, “Fries.”

You carefully bite them out of his hand, tipping your head back to get them fully into your mouth. You mumble ‘thanks’ through them, and you’re not sure if he can make out what you’re saying, but you hope it’s obvious.

“I can’t wait to get in bed,” He groans, “I know it’s only been a few days, but I can’t remember being there for three weeks.”

“It’s cold without you,” You hum forlornly, checking your blind spot before merging, your hands stiff on the wheel. Your words leave more of an aftertaste on your tongue than the fries do, and it’s an unpleasant one. They mean more than you let on, and your brain is clouded thick with the worry of sleeping in a cold bed for the rest of your life. 

There’s a moment of silence that Bradley lets follow your words, then he promises, “I’ll be there tonight. And every night after that.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Burger?”

He laughs, leaning in his seat when you turn, “Burger.”

He holds the food up to your mouth, letting you take a bite that smears sauce over your mouth. He takes a napkin, cleaning up after you and dabbing all of the mess away. You’re absolutely certain that if you weren’t on the road, he would have kissed it off. You make a mental note to eat just as messily when you get home, for experimental purposes.

“Can I have a bite?” He asks tentatively, and you turn at a red light to smile and nod.

“‘Course, Brad. I meant it, if you want it you can have the whole thing.”

“I don’t want you to go hungry,” He hums, taking a chunk to the left of your bite mark, “Thanks, babe. Fuck, that's good.”

“Did they finish your cookies?” You exit the freeway, muscle memory guiding you home.

Bradley speaks through a mouthful of burger, unpleasant to hear but somehow endearingly domestic, like he’s not worried about looking handsome for you. “Yeah. I got one more, but they mowed through the rest.”

“Those bitches,” You hiss, and he laughs, “Okay, we’ll bake tomorrow. But I’m keeping the vanilla away from you.”

He scoffs, “Always with the vanilla. I drank it one time!”

“One time is enough for a lifetime ban!” You insist, turning onto your street, “Okay, you shower and I’ll eat, then we can get into bed.”

“Sounds good,” He drawls, stuffing your food back into its bag and swapping it to you for the keys, “I’ll be quick in the shower.”

“No rush,” You croon, holding the hand that he offers you as you take on the front walkway together, “Don’t hurt yourself because you’re too eager to get into bed. It’ll be there even if you take your time.”

You’re bound for the kitchen and Bradley the bedroom, but you remember you have to keep the lights off so that he doesn’t see your decorations. You send him off with a kiss at the hallway, intent on watching him leave before setting up at the table.

“Goodbye,” You hum, standing with your lips puckered in the doorway of the hall, “If you need help, just yell for me.”

“Will do,” He nods, puckering his own lips and pressing them to yours with a cartoonish smack! You watch his ginger walk towards the bedroom, his hips off balance as his ribs ache in his chest.

Once you’re in the clear you flick the kitchen light on, choosing to stand at the counter instead of dirty the table. You busy yourself with your phone, tapping on an impatient text from Carole: ‘Have you told him yet?’

Not yet. You write back, munching on a french fry, Not in the car. He didn’t ask, either.

- Don’t lose your nerve, you can almost hear the critical tone of her voice just by reading her message, The longer you lie, the more he’ll worry about you.

I know. I’ll tell him.

- ❤️

“Babe?” You hear Bradley call over the stream of the shower, “Babe!”

You abandon the last few fries in the container, stuffing your phone into your pocket to rush to his aide. Horror flashes through your mind, visions of Bradley bleeding down the drain or hunched over in pain.

All you see when you burst into the bathroom is him looking like a puppy in the rain, a pitiful pout on his face as water runs down his face and through his mustache.

“I can’t wash my hair,” He laments, “It hurts.”

You can’t help but coo, “Oh, baby. Lemme help you.”

“Thanks,” He mumbles, “I already have the shampoo.”

True to his word, there’s shampoo smeared over his hands. Apparently he’d tried his best, but couldn’t move well enough with his broken ribs. You try not to laugh at his misfortune, especially because he’s in pain, but he’s just too cute to ignore. You try to muscle down the thought that this might be the last time you ever shower with Bradley, even if you’re not really in the water with him. You wet your hands, then wipe the shampoo off of his palms, reaching for his scalp.

“I’m sorry I’m making you stand in front of me naked and we’re not having sex,” Bradley huffs, “Believe me, if I thought I could, I’d be jumping you right about now.”

“It’s okay,” You chuckle, muffling the sound into Bradley’s forehead that you kiss chastely, “We should hold off on sex, at least until your ribs are healed.

Or until you know the truth.

“They don’t hurt too bad now,” Bradley muses, “But when I raised my arms to shampoo, it was really bad.”

“I’ll reach for things for you,” You promise, scrubbing shampoo into his scalp. It knocks loose leftover ash from his accident, and it flows down the drain in a swirl of gray bubbles.

“Oh, fuck,” For not having sex, Bradley’s making some awfully pornographic sounds, “That feels good.”

“I’ll bet,” you hum, “Can’t imagine having ash in my hair for that long.”

“It’s not pleasant. Oh god, babe,” He groans, “Hurry up and rinse it out, I’m gonna fall asleep standing up.”

“Okay! Okay,” You laugh, scrubbing in one last circle at the nape of his neck then reaching for the showerhead, “Have you washed your body already?”

“Yeah,” He murmurs, letting the water flow through his hair and rinse the shampoo out, “Oh my god, this is what heaven feels like.”

“Come on,” You smile, reaching for a towel, “Do you need help drying off?”

“You just wanna feel up my thighs,” Bradley accuses, and you laugh good-naturedly.

“Nope. Ass.” You admit, “But if you can do it yourself, then go ahead.”

“No!” He catches you as you stuff the towel to his chest, pulling you back towards the shower, “Uh, I need help. I think you should wipe down my very toned chest and my tight butt.”

“Oh, really? That’s what you’re having trouble with?” You snicker, and Bradley nods proudly.

“Yep. Can’t get my hands over my shredded back either, such a shame.”

“Alright, you flirt,” You scoff, “Turn around.”

You start on his back, and of course, it’s very fit. It’s nothing you haven’t touched before, in fact, you’re surprised there’s no scars there from your fingernails, but this is more intimate, more romantic, more sweet. This is love, not lust. You scrub the towel over his skin, wiping the water droplets away and rubbing into his tight muscles. You take extra care to dry off the small of his back, smoothing the towel down over his ass, too. Despite his earlier cheekiness, he doesn’t make any comments while you’re working. You wrap the towel around his thighs, pressing a kiss to his hip as you bend down to dry his calves off. He stands still to let you get his ankles dry, and you tap his foot to turn him around.

Now he’s looking down at you as you towel off his calves again, getting any splotches of water you may have missed before. You dry out the soft tuft of hair at his groin and move to his chest before you can tempt yourself, not wanting your first sexual encounter after a life-threatening plane crash to be a blowjob up against the shower wall. Especially not before you tell him the truth.

Now that you’re on your feet you’re face-to-face, though yours is bent slightly to track any water droplets you might have missed on his shoulders. You towel off his underarms carefully, making sure not to aggravate his muscles that are already bleeding pain through his gut. You swipe the towel over his neck, and in doing so, you’ve set your hand just below his chin. It’s as natural as breathing to slide it up his jaw, and he’s already staring at you, breath shaky as you return his gaze.

He moves first, but you take his cue right away. He leans in to kiss you and you’re happy to press your mouth to his own, not caring that there’s a drop of water leftover between his fingers that transfers to your skin when he cups your face.

“Baby,” He whimpers, desperate and longing, “I- I missed you.”

There’s tears beading at the corners of his eyes, and you manage a sad smile when you wipe them away, “Why, silly? I was only gone for a few hours.”

“I know. I just- I’m real shaken up,” He admits, “I- I don’t even remember the crash and that’s the scary part. I almost died and I’ve got no clue what happened. I feel lost, like- like I’m still stalling or something, just waiting to crash.”

“I’m so sorry,” You croon through your own tears, “Brad, that must be so scary, I- I can’t even imagine.”

“I just need you,” He breathes, clutching at your shoulders like they’ll recover his plane, “Just don’t leave, please.”

“Sweetheart,” You coo, equally endeared and saddened by his sudden panic, “We're not at the hospital anymore, there's no visiting hours. Why would I leave? We're home, we’re gonna get changed, and then we’re gonna go to sleep. You’re safe now, okay?”

“Okay,” He nods, voice a mere whisper, “Okay, let’s sleep.”

“Clothes first,” You remind him through a cheeky grin, and the expression scrunches your tear-stained cheeks, cracking the stiffened substance, “We’re sleeping.”

“Alright, alright,” He laughs as you poke at his bare chest, “Will you help me? I managed to bend over and slide my t-shirt off but I don’t think putting something on will be as easy.”

“Mhm. I was hoping,” You reach for the sets of matching pajamas, holding them up enticingly, “You’d match with me?”

He laughs, the sound thick and genuine in his bruised chest, “Of course. I won’t look as good as you, though.”

“Yeah, my mustache is better,” You sigh, scratching a nail over your upper lip that’s morphing into a grin. You whirl on him with his shirt, helping ease his arms into the fabric and stretching the neck hole over his head so that he doesn’t have to bend down. All in all, it works, even if the neckline is a little stretched. He doesn’t need help with his pants, but you feel compelled to do it anyways, sliding his boxers and then the soft material up his legs and tying it tight at the waistband.

“Thanks, honey.” He murmurs, bending at the waist and sitting on his side of the bed, “Fuck, that’s nice.”

“Lay down,” You push against his chest, helping him recline against his pillows, “I’ll be right back, B.”

You change quickly, too eager to crawl into bed beside Bradley to care that you’ve left one bite of burger and a few lone fries on the counter. Ants be damned, you’ll clean up tomorrow. When you emerge from the closet you wriggle happily beneath the covers next to Bradley, flicking the light by the doorway off so that all that’s left is your bedside lamp.

When you settle on your pillow he’s already looking at you, and the tip of his nose bumps your own. You melt into a girlish giggle, something that a teenager would produce after a particularly bad pickup line and a single red rose.

“Hi,” You gush, overjoyed to have him so close again. You kiss his nose in your fervent enthusiasm, and he smiles sleepily against his pillow.

“Hi,” He hums, reaching for your waist and pulling you close, “C’mere.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” You stiffen, but he molds your body to his anyways, “Brad, be careful.”

“I will be! I said it before, you can’t break me. Just let me hold you.”

You croon a sad sound as he wraps you in his arms, a sound of longing, of adoration, of grief. He clocks it as sweetness, though, and holds you close. Your face is buried in his chest and you feel his lips move against your scalp when he speaks.

“Y/N,” He starts, and your heart rate spikes at just your name, “About earlier-”

“Tomorrow.” You blurt, anguish rising in your chest, “Brad, can we- can we talk tomorrow? I’m not trying to hide from you,” You promise, but you’re nestled into his chest and muffling your voice, “I trust you with the way that I'm feeling, I just- I just want to sleep. I want to breathe for a minute. And we can talk tomorrow, is that okay?”

He takes a moment to deliberate, really, truly thinking about it. While he does so, your hands tighten in his shirt, desperately clinging to him. But eventually he nods, disjointedly so into the crown of your head, “Okay.” His hands tighten around your waist as he speaks, and you melt into his embrace, scooting impossibly closer. “Okay, honey, we’ll talk tomorrow. Let’s just sleep.”

Settling into his embrace has never been so easy. Since the moment you'd been in them for the first time only hours old in the hospital, you’d known his arms were made for holding you. They’ve been yours for as long as you can remember, even longer than that according to the photo album you’d skimmed through earlier. Bradley had been the third person to hold you, second only to your parents. Sure, he couldn’t remember it either, and Nick and Carole were probably doing most of the work keeping you balanced in his little lap, but the point is, he was made for holding you, and you were made for being held by him. Your face tucks so naturally under the curve of his chin and your lips press even easier to his throat, kissing at his voice that you love so much. It comes out to thank you for the adoration in a gentle hum, one that thrums against your lips. 

His hands revel in their access to the extent of your back, brushing and roving and stroking over every inch of the space he’s granted. It’s ticklish but you don’t dare squirm, letting his fingers send miniscule bolts of electricity through your skin.

“I love you,” He reminds you as he holds you close, the sleepiness fogging his brain clear as day in his voice, “I really, really do.”

“I love you too, Bradley.” You promise, kissing up his chin to his lips. The pecks you plant there are short, sweet, and chaste, but when you’re done laying them over his face you decide that you want to fall asleep facing him, not hidden away in his chest. Sure, it’s warm and safe there, but you can’t drift off to his sweet face if you can’t see it.

Your solution is to plop your head back onto your pillow, throwing a leg over his waist to keep yourself close. His eyes are droopy, and hold all of the tender sweetness of the puppies he so often resembles. He’s clearly exhausted, and your own eyes slip shut at the sight of his struggling to stay open.

“Night, Brad.” You yawn, settling against your pillow with the tip of your nose brushing his own, “Welcome home.”

“Night, baby. Love you,” He gushes, as if you hadn’t just exchanged the words seconds prior. But it feels good, it feels right, so you say it back.

“Love you, too.” You use the last of your energy to reciprocate, sleep taking hold of you in its comforting embrace. You slip away like sand into unconsciousness, all of your thoughts about love, and life, and Bradley, and none of the horrific possibility of his memories returning. Nothing’s going to ruin this moment for you, not now.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[gyuvision]

strawberry soju -> [back to masterlist?]

pairing : exes to ?? hong seunghan x fem reader

contains -> : drinking, mention of alcohol/being drunk

wc : 0.9k

preview ! - your drunken ex boyfriend calls you up out of nowhere, leaving him under your care for the night when he doesnt want you to go.

continue? ⬇️

you groaned at the sound of your phone buzzing once again. after all, it really does get annoying when its been 3 minutes and 7 missed calls.

“who could be calling so late? 10pm on a friday..”

setting down the ramen cup and pausing your favorite show, you swipe to accept the call, holding the phone up to your ear without checking the caller id. “hello? whos this?”

“y/nniee? that you?” the person slurred.

you knew that voice all too well, you didn’t even have to look at the contact name. “seunghan.” you sighed.

“you finally answered.” he exclaimed. you could practically hear his stupid smile.

“been drinking again?” you said, already knowing by his tone of voice.

“just.. a little tipsy..”

“are you-” you were cut off by someone elses voice.

“sorry y/n. he had a lot to drink.” eunseok joined in. “you mind getting seunghan? i know its.. awkward still. but my parents are supposed to go out soon, and i don’t want to leave my brother by himself.”

“hes sooo drunk that he seems to think you’re still together. he’s been asking for you all night!” sungchan snickered somewhere in the background.

“uh.. send me your location then? i guess its fine just this once. he wont even remember it in the morning.”

so you found yourself driving to a well known local restaurant to pick up your ex boyfriend. even though it was your choice, you couldnt help but wonder why you were doing this.

and you also couldn’t help but feel bad at the thought of seunghan being so drunk to the point he still thinks you’re dating.

“y/n, over here!” sungchan called out to you as you entered the building.

“wheres eunseok?”

“you just missed him. he had to go because he’s too worried about his brother.”

“my y/n! you’re here!” seunghan squealed going to pull you into a tight hug.

you awkwardly pat his head in return instead of hugging back. though you couldn’t say that you didn’t miss his touch.

sungchan helped you both to the car before he took off as well.

“god you smell like.. like, strawberry soju?” you exclaimed. “you really reek of alcohol. how much did you drink?”

seunghan replied by holding up 9 fingers, a lazy smile across his face and his eyes closed, with his cheeks a bright pink. “9 shots?” you scoffed as you set course for seunghans house.

“babyy.” seunghan whined. “im not your baby.” “you’ll always be my baby.” he teased back.

you sighed as you rubbed your forehead in frustration. “what do you want?”

“aircon please. i feel hot.” he mumbled as he tugged at the collar of his shirt.

you sank into your seat after turning on the air conditioning, putting up with how cold you were so he could feel better. after all, he was a bit of a liability right now though.

you walked up to seunghans apartment with him leaning into your shoulder while he had one arm around you for support.

“whats your code?” you asked, opening his keypad as you assumed he changed the password after your break up.

“same as always. your birthday. i would never change it.”

you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t soften even in the slightest.

after changing seunghans shirt for him then getting him tucked into the sheets, you went to get up to get ready and go home before he pulled you back into the bed with him.

“please dont go.” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you, burying his head into your neck with a small whine.

“but didn’t you think that we..” “nah. just wanted to believe that we were. feel more confident when i’m that drunk.”

“im sorry.”

“why did you leave me?”

though seunghan had said some crazy things that night, nothing would’ve prepared you for that.

“seunghan..”

“i dont care about it anymore then. just dont leave me again. even if its only for today.”

you turned around in his grasp to press a light kiss into his forehead. “promise.”

you decided, maybe it wouldnt be so bad to spend the night. you realize you wouldnt mind being happy with seunghan again even if it meant that he wouldnt remember any of it.

‘but might as well, cause i cant help myself.’ [1:36]

..

‘i dont ever wanna know how it feels to not have you, my strawberry soju.’ [1:51]