#I think posting this frequently probably means I need to sleep soon

[spaghetticat3899]

Thinking about that one time when I was pretty small (no clue what age, to be honest), and I was asked what animal I thought Sonic was by my sister (not knowing the franchise was Sonic the hedgehog), and I came to the absolutely flawless conclusion that since his ears were pointy, he was a cat.

Child me was not the brightest creature to grace the planet.

[sugawhaaa]

!!health update!!

Part.3💀

So I'll try to keep this short bc the last few were rlly long and this could be a very triggering topic for some ppl regarding mental health so if u are sensitive to anything revolving around suicide or self harm I suggest you keep scrolling

To put it simply I've really been trying to keep this page happy-go-lucky even during this current struggle but I think it shows even in my writing and posts that I am miserable right now. What started out as just physical pain has now turned mental and I'm struggling with something I thought I had already overcome and beaten. I am struggling with suicidal thoughts and depression regarding my chronic disease.

This mainly stems from the Healthcare system and I am not blaming all the staff in the world bc the system in Canada is fucked. But when I went to the hospital the care I received from nurses was thorough but doctors were careless and sent me home while I was still in pain without a diagnosis or giving me a referral to a specialist. Now I am waiting to hear from a gynecology clinic about an appointment for a first-level gynecologist, meaning all they will be able to do is say I may or may not need surgery. But this waiting has, omg made me go fucking insane.

I have waited a month and probably won't hear from them for another three months which is unacceptable. I am miserable every day and the only thing that has given me relief was that stupid IV I got at the hospital for less than an hour. I can't work, I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't live my life rn and that is what has drawn me to this depression. I even hesitated giving my application to university bc this pain is debilitating I don't even think I can't achieve my dream career anymore and I don't think anyone will understand how heartbreaking this was to me.

I am going to seek help from a therapist soon but the wait time for that is up to a year so I don't know if I will even bother. In the meantime I hope you all understand that rn my life is uhhhh falling apart 😬👍 and all I need rn is just a little patience and understanding that I am not going to be myself for potentally a few months (I hope less than that) but I will still be posting my usual content.

I won't be posting or interacting as frequently, requests will take twice as long to complete probably 💀 and yeah. I thank all of you for your patience, understanding, and kind words you have been giving me in these updates 🙏 unfortunately idrk how to respond to these kinda of comments but I greatly appreciate them and think abt them day in and day out.

[otherone12]

Comics And "Something"

Gerard Way x Brazilian!Reader 

-> Masterlist

A/N: Hey!! Well... days ago my intrusive thoughts just won and i wrote a Gerard Way imagine (because why not)... and then I received this request... I've been bored, so maybe i'll post some emo imagines (mcr, p!atd, fob, paramore...) frequently?? Idk. If have requests, I will certainly make them... and i will post a part2 of the “I Can Help You With That” :)

~ "Could you do another imagine with Gerard and a Brazilian reader? (Perhaps the reader is Gabriel Bá's sister) ...I don't know if it's an interesting request :("

Summary - Your brother worked with Gerard for a while, but you've never really met him until now 'cause you live in another country (Brazil). Fortunately, Gerard is gonna stay at your brother's home for a week, to work on a new project. You both don't know what happens when you've seen each other, but it was CLEARLY something.

- Word Count: 1.570

- Warnings: Age gap? (not smut!)

- Ps1: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language ... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

Damn... sorry for the superlong intro *-*

___________________________________________

Reader's 1st Person POV

I woke up 3 am and looked at my phone just to see three missed calls and an absurd amount of texts from my brother. I can't believe that this man is like forty-something years old and can't even wait till the morning to tell me whatever he wanted to tell me.

Even though I'm tired, I read every single one of the messages. None of them has a real meaning, was like "are you awake?", "i need to talk to you", "it's important!"

Why the fuck he did'nt just tell me what is going on insted of doing this?? 

I called him back and he dropped the news: Gerard Way will spend a whole week in my brother's house!

- Realy?! - I shout at phone

- Yep... he's gonna stay here for a while... don't act like a stoned, please. - i heard a bit of a desperate tone in his voice, like he wasn't kidding.

- What do you mean? - I said, trying not sound offended, even if i was.

- I know you for 25 years, dear... you can't keep MCR lyrics references out of your mouth for too long. - He chuckles.

He's right... i can't, the same way i can't swim, can't dance and i don't know karate.

- I don't know why you think I'm gonna be weird or something... it's not like I'm a fangirl. Not anymore. - I argued.

- Sure... - his sarcasm always makes me mad - By the way, we'll be busy working, so i will need your help here... can you stay with us in my place?

- Yeah, but why do you need me? Don't you think I'm gonna "act like a stoned"?

- Honestly? I KNOW you're gonna be creepy, but I can't cook, and i refuse to buy shitty North American food for Gerard when he's here. 

- OH, FINE! - I couldn't help but take it as a challenge, I'm gonna be there and act normal, because that's what i am, right? A normal person - I get it. So no cheeseburgers and stuff? 

- NO! You can cook something nice, right?

- I can try... 

- Awesome! See ya tomorrow at 8pm in the airport to pick Gerard up. Good night. 

-  Bye! 

Yeah, sure, how the hell does he expect me to sleep? I mean, when I was a teenager, Gerard was my hero. I'm not that kind of fan anymore, but still, I like him so much. 

Gabriel never introduced us appropriately, probably 'cause I was ‘that’ creepy fan, or the long distance between the countries made it impossible for me to travel. Anyways… just didn't happen yet.

*** time skip ***

I don't know why, but I just imagined the scene of Gerard going out of the airplane and thousands of paparazzis just screaming and taking pictures of him… I was surprised that didn't happen, I know the people here and we can be really crazy sometimes. By the way, Gabriel and I was waiting for him.

Soon, along with several other passengers, We could see him, who was looking for the familiar face of my brother in the crowd. The smile emerged on his face in the moment they made eye contact. 

Damn this man is so good looking… Suddenly I remembered why I had that crush on him.

-Hey, How long, man?! - Gabriel said with a smile as he opened his arms to hug Gerard.

- Hell yeah! How have you been? - That pretty smile still in his face.

- Great! Better now that i know we'll gonna work together again!

I just couldn't stop looking at him… I think he noticed, ‘cause he looked back at me.

-Lemme guess… Your sister, right? - The lovely look on his eyes as he extended his hand to greet me made my face burn. - He talks alot about you, I was excited to finally meet you!

- So as I! - I shaked his hand and smile back at him, trying not to overdo it.

- She's A huge fan! 

The death look I gave Gabriel made Gerard laugh a bit, but not enough to make me feel more embarrassed than I already was.  

-Well, that's true, but why don't we go home? - i said - You need help with that? 

I pointed to the two suitcases he was carrying.

-That's fine. I can handle two of them. Thanks! - i swear, his eyes was glowing… im not that crazy! 

We put Gerard's things in the trunk of my brother's car and we went back home. 

During the way, all I could think about were those hazel eyes and how I felt a connection... it was inexplicable, maybe it's just nonsense in my head. But there's always a ‘maybe not’, right?

Gerard's 1st person POV

I don't know what that was. But THAT was fucking something! The way she look? Maybe, but not just that. don't know! 

I haven't even talked with her, but I hope we have time to get to know each other well. Because that was something.

At home, Gabriel showed me the office and the room i'll stay in.

He has such a pretty house, and all the pencils, markers, and art stuff get me even more excited to start work. But his sister is still in my mind... The best I can do now is go to sleep, cause all the way in the airplane just stressed me out.

Reader's 1st person POV

First things first, i woke up early to do exactly the thing my brother wants me to do: cook. 

I was distracted preparing coffee, and heard a familiar voice from the back of the kitchen.

-Morning… - Even though his voice was dragging because he had just woken up, he still sounded so good. 

Gerard sat at the table while I finished preparing breakfast.

- Morning! How was your night? Did you sleep well? - I asked, trying to start a conversation.

- Yeah, really well, and the feeling of waking up with this smell is just amazing! - He smiled, rubbing his eyes.

- I'm glad you like it. - the feeling of relief and joy took over me, I think being normal will be easier than I imagined…

*** time skip ***

The next two days was normal, just small talks, because the purpose of him coming was not to talk to me, but to work, right? Still, it would be nice to take an hour or two just to talk.

Or not, i keep thinking about the feeling in the airport, i want to feel that again. 

Gabriel left early this morning to look for who knows what, which ended up making room for a break from work. 

I was sitting on the couch, watching a rerun of my favorite movie when Gee appeared in the living room and sat next to me.

-Finally a break, hun? - he said, with his usual smile, which by the way I always thought was beautiful - Don't get me wrong, I love to do that, but sometimes Gabe just goes too deep.

- Yeah, I know… he is intense. Family thing, I guess… - I chuckled and turn the TV off, so we could talk. - Same eyes and same craziness.

We laughed for a moment, but he seemed to concentrate on confirming the similarity between my eyes and my brother's eyes. A shiver went down my spine when the look stopped being critical and became appreciative. It's incredible how artists can vary between technique and feeling.

The situation made me want to kiss him, but I think this is out of the limits, considering his relationship with my brother. I respect that and never gonna do something that could ruin it. 

-  Transcendently impressive… - The way he spoke made it seem like he was in some kind of trance. - Your eyes. 

I gasped in shock. I didn’t know what to say. I just stood still, while my breath was panting.

-Thanks! - I pulled from somewhere within me the confidence to thank and return the compliment. - I can say the same about yours, maybe even more.

- I think you're exaggerating, but thank you - I thought the situation would be awkward, but Gee seemed increasingly comfortable with my company. - May I ask you something?

- Sure! - My curiosity barely let him finish the sentence. - Anything.

- Did you feel that at the airport? - He sighed as if taking a huge weight off his chest. - Because i did. Sorry if it sounds weird or...

- Thank God! I thought i was freak out. So there WAS something. - I quickly got up from the couch and practically jumped for joy. - The last days i couldn't barely sleep thinking of you! Well, not YOU but the whole situation and-

It happened so quickly that I couldn't register in my mind when he stood up, even less could I believe that he cut me off with a kiss. 

-I thought about you too, sugar… 

Before I could do anything, he kissed me again, that feeling it was becoming clearer and clearer, with every second my lips remained close to his.

The next few days were a bit different… not like we just makeout a lot of times, but some quick looks, kisses and conversations. We discovered that we have more in common than we imagined…

Now, taking advantage of Gerard's last moments here, I decided that I would help him pack his bags, so that we could make, whatever our relationship is, last longer. While we were talking, I couldn't help but notice the t-shirt he was putting on his suitcase. 

-Oh my god, i didn't notice… you brought THE shirt! 

- What do you mean? - He was confused, but then he looked at the shirt and noticed why.

- “Pool Boy At The Vampire Mansion” shirt… it's like THE shirt!  

- Ya know? Keep it.

- WHAT? I don't think-

- You heard me. - He smiled, in the cutest way a human being can smile.- I want you to keep it. I don't know when we're gonna seen each other again, so… 

Gerard dropped the shirt in the bed and got closer to me, placing his hands on my waist and, getting even closer, he pressed his lips to mine gently. The kiss became deep as we let ourselves be carried away by the heat of the moment. 

-This week was perfect. - He said, placing his hand on my cheek and looking into my eyes. - I wish it didn't end now. You know, sugar, I think we could work out… be something. 

- I'm sure that we can make it happend- I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss even more intense than the last. The feeling of hope made it seem like time would stop at that moment. 

~ That's it. Hope u enjoyed :)

[archivalofsins]

Hey, this isn't going to be a long post because I want to get back to playing Caligula Effect 2. However, confirmed that Double is mostly a dream with small snippets of reality while MeMe is reality with breaks into dreams. Also that the graphs we see displayed distortedly throughout Double are a polysomnography.

X X

"I’m probably just having a bad dream, I need to wake up soon." - "All I did was dream, and that’s what you found GUILTY? “He’s a liar”, you said, and made me out to be a scoundrel, why?"

So, let's talk about this for a bit.

all gifs made by @apatchworkstar

So, in Caligula Effect 2 there's a heavy focus on the meaning of the word dream. It's highlighted multiple times that a dream can be something you have at night while sleeping or refer to something you want to do in the future. So, throughout double the word dream itself even has a double meaning.

I think that when John states all he did was dream contextually he's referring to the dreams one has when they sleep. I believe this because the structure of Double as I stated before is more dream like than MeMe. Though I have another pertinent reason for believing this outside of that. Let's discuss the telltale signs of a dream displayed throughout Double first.

1. Takes place mainly in one location.

Unlike MeMe where we change locations frequently. From the underpass to the inside of their home, to the dumping area outside of their home, to their bathroom. Double is limited to the train station and the train only. Despite seeing John commuting he never makes it home or to work. He is confined to this location.

2. Seemingly endless terrains. (Never-ending passages or areas that seem to go on forever.)

3. Partial literacy or none. (Not everyone can read within dreams but those who can rarely can read the same thing twice. Instead the words will either keep changing or go blank.)

People who can read in dreams are pretty rare. They tend to be in communications based professions or writers.

CAN YOU READ IN YOUR DREAMS? SCIENCE REVEALS WHY MOST PEOPLE CAN'T

There are also other things that can't be done in dreams according to other sources.

X

That are helpful when it comes to differentiating between reality and dream in Mikoto's case. Also bringing more scrutiny to John's statements during the interrogation where he claims they attacked random strangers on the street an impossibility if it was really a dream like they both claim. We see in Double that none of the people have faces, they're all mannequins.

Since John stated he attacked some stranger it makes sense for everyone in Double to appear this way because in dreams you can't really just create a full ass person that you've never seen before. So, this makes everyone in John's version of events a stranger to him. However, you know where that's definitely not the damn case.

In MeMe where we see this guy plain as day-

As Mikoto does a very physical activity. However, this is a good time to interject- Dreams are very personalized.

Personal anecdote. I once had a dream when I was in a bookstore, and I was browsing around. I'd read a book I'd liked but I was unsure if I wanted to really commit to purchasing it but there was limited time was there with others, I had like twenty minutes at most, and I'd looked at a clock just to see what time that'd be. When I went to skim the book again it was blank. Then I looked at the clock and it was blank too. I was in high school at the time and had already looked into information around dreams and became acutely aware I was which led to a bit of lucid dreaming before I woke up. In other dreams I've been in fights, used weapons etc. even ran for a good while.

So, yeah, I've done physical activities in my dreams before, and I've seen people I know and have never known in my dreams too. It's different for everyone.

Yet, it's still valid to question-

Why would Double something primarily from John's perspective follow the rules of dreams more than Mikoto's?

If what they did was just a dream, then those rules should be applicable to both songs not just one.

It's not as though all of MeMe just shows the reality of the situation either. In fact, dream and reality are more neatly separated within their first trial song. Something that is displayed by one of those things listed. The inability to look in mirrors.

And being confined to one place regardless of how it changes over the course of the video.

So, yes there are very logical ways to discern between what is a dream and what is reality within Mikoto's trial songs. Milgram has done nothing to hide this. They even further displayed this by putting dream in large font for all to see over most of double.

Yet what's the other thing that makes me so sure that when John is discussing dreaming, he's discussing the dreams you have while sleeping and Mikoto is discussing dreams for the future?

For one Mikoto is specifically paired with the woman who sings this-

"Is the damage to get in the way of someone’s dream."- "If it damaged someone’s dream to the points of stopping it I’ll gouge you out with my fangs."

So chances are a part of the reason they were connected is because they lashed out due to someone gettting in the way of their personal goals and dreams. Yet there's also the fact he plainly fucking states what his dream was in his written trial one interrogation.

Q.04 Are you picky when it comes to fashion?

Mikoto: Of course I am. Nobody would want to ask for anything from an unfashionable designer, right?

06 What do you hate?

Mikoto: working overnight / reptiles / violence

Q.14 Where do you think you’ll be in 10 years?

Mikoto: It’d be nice if I could build up my own self-sustaining design business. That’d be pretty liberating.

"Hey now, I saved you, right? So why in the hell are you crying? Cling to me, hoist me up as your “savior”, stand up and sing out your gratitude, that’d be good."

Mikoto even uses similar verbage to that used in his first written interrogation when asked about these things in the lyrics of Double. Such as right, and that'd be good.

So, yeah there's all that.

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Sweet Pea - Steve Rogers x Reader

Sweet Pea (Lathyrus odoratus) - Meaning: Thank you for a lovely time, farewell

Summary: While on the run, Steve comes to reader for comfort. What starts as a series of one night stands turns into so much more.

Pairing: Nomad!Steve x Reader

Word Count: 955

Warnings: Allusions to smut, Steve leaving notes and being sweet, domestic fluff, dirty notes and drawings, the Blip, angst, Steve freaking out

Day 14 brings us some fluffy angst with our favorite Nomad!

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, comments, and reblogs are SUPER appreciated! ❤️

You kept the notes squirreled away in a small box in the back of your sock drawer. Steve always left one, using whatever scrap of paper was nearby. After the first few notes you’d taken to keeping post-its and a pen on your nightstand, which he used from then on to leave you his sweet farewells. 

The first few notes were stiff, formal, things like ‘Thank you for a lovely time, Sincerely Yours, Steve’ or ‘I truly appreciate you, Best, Steve’ like he was thanking you for picking up his dry cleaning rather than letting him fuck you into next week. 

At the beginning of your relationship, he’d only come by your safe house after dark and would leave almost right after you passed out. The more times he visited, the more comfortable he got and the longer he would linger. Sometimes you’d wake up in the wee hours with him spooning you, snoring adorably, but he’d always be gone by morning, a note left for you stuck to your coffee maker, a full pot already made. 

He was sweet like that. 

‘Thanks for last night. You’re incredible. <3 Steve’

‘I’ll miss you, but I won’t be gone long. <3 Steve’

‘See you soon, beautiful. <3 Steve’ 

The little doodled heart next to his name made your heart stutter. 

His visits became more frequent, from once every few months to once a month to every other week or so. More often than not, you woke up next to him. The first time that happened you’d shaken him awake, afraid he was late to something or needed to go. He’d smiled his classically handsome smile and simply folded you back into his arms. 

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he said, voice still thick with sleep. “I don’t have to be anywhere for a while yet.” 

A while yet turned out to be two full days with Steve. At first, you weren’t sure about his presence in your house, thinking he’d be bored out of his mind, but he found some home projects you’d been neglecting and did as much as he could in the time he had. The domesticity of it all was a new kind of intimacy that neither of you were familiar with, so there were some awkward moments trying to figure out each other's routines and particularities. But once that initial adjustment period was over, everything felt…natural.

You feared this would be the end of his sweet little notes, but instead of the end the notes started popping up everywhere. Sometimes it was a flirtatious note, sometimes a quick drawing of something silly or pornographic or a reference to something he now understood thanks to your pop culture tutelage. 

‘I love your tits in that top ;)’

‘Meet me upstairs when you’re done in the garden’

‘I definitely didn't use the last of the milk, it was a ghost. Who ya gonna call?’ 

The drawing he did of you pegging a suspiciously Steve-shaped Deadpool was probably your favorite. That one got taped to the fridge. 

While he was on the run, you were more than happy to provide him a safe place. His touchstone when he needed a reminder that he was still a human being. A place where he could fully shed the fugitive mantle and act like a normal person. 

He gets the call from Nat while he’s rehanging drywall in your upstairs bathroom. They needed him to get to Edinburgh, some weird readings were coming through whatever scanners she had. You were at the grocery store, so he grabbed the post-its from his side of the bed and wrote a note. 

‘Got a call from Nat, gotta go save the world again <3 Love you, Steve’

He stuck it where he’d be sure you’d find it, on the fridge, next to the naughty drawing that you loved, and made sure to lock the door when he left. 

A few days later, the truck he’d commandeered screeched to a halt in your driveway. His heart pounded in his chest as he thudded up the porch steps and threw his shoulder into your front door, busting it open — he’d fix it later, he had to know. 

He called your name and ran from room to room, searching for you desperately. Half the world was gone, and he couldn’t waste another second without knowing if you were one of them. 

He’d already lost Bucky. He couldn’t lose you too. 

Up in your bedroom he found his answer. On the bed, spread all over his side of it, were all the notes he’d written you. On your side, nothing but a hint of dust. His legs went numb, but they managed to bring him to the end of the bed before he collapsed, gripping the duvet and some of his wayward notes. 

Steve couldn’t hold back anymore, so he let the tears fall pitifully — first Bucky, then Wanda, Sam, T’Challa, so, so many others. And now, you were gone too. The one person who could have possibly helped him hold together what was left, had already done that once before after his schism with Stark. He’d come to you shattered and slowly, carefully, you’d glued him back together. 

“Steve?” your quiet voice asked. At first, he didn’t move, convinced he was hearing things until he felt your small hand on his shoulder. 

He turned, your name falling from his lips like a sacred prayer before he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his wet face in your stomach. More tears fell, but these were from relief. 

“You’re alive,” he chanted, voice muffled by your tummy. You shushed him gently, running your fingers through his hair. 

“I’m here, Steve,” you promised, “I’ll always be here.”

[heybaetae]

alright, his letter really got me.

if i can get kinda personal really quick—which i usually avoid doing too much—i promise it’s warranted if you feel like reading to the end of this post in which i’m about to share some things about a deeply painful experience i went through this year and am still enduring the weight of. if you follow me closely enough, you probably know what i’m referring to…

before i do though, i want to mention how truly mind blowing it is that someone who already means a lot to you can somehow keep becoming more and more important as time goes on without even doing much, really, just by being there. since the start of the year, i have not been in the best mental state. i suffer from anxiety and depression which causes me to have a really tough time sleeping and it’s only gotten worse over the months.

i cannot stress enough how many times jungkook lifted my spirit and my mood on some of my worst days/nights since he started doing his frequent weverse lives. it sounds bleak to say because it is, but he was one of the only constant sources of light in my life this year. i can’t tell you how many times it felt like whenever i was feeling my lowest or was riddled with dread about something, i’d suddenly get a notif that he was live. like he’d just pop up when i’d need a distraction the most. even if it was a temporary relief, it would often help take my mind off of things and sometimes it was the only time i’d smile or laugh in an entire week. he was already such a comforting person to me, but it was only amplified every time he went live seeking the same feeling and i quickly found a lot of solace in the thought that we both seeked a familiar warmth for a while. i think a lot of people felt the same. i was seriously getting though the first half of the year thanks to the music the members were releasing and jk’s lives. that’s it. not much else was driving me forward.

then june 11th happened. that morning, i was woken up by my mom telling me my older sister was unresponsive in the hospital. i won’t go into specifics of what happened, but i ended up spending the whole day at home alone while the rest of my family rushed to the hospital. i couldn’t go with them. i knew i wasn’t going to be able to handle it and that made me feel absolutely riddled with guilt. instead, i spent hours in bed just waiting for text updates of what was going on, but they were few and far between. all i’d been told was that they were going to turn her life support off at some point in the day and i hadn’t heard anything after that for a few hours, so i didn’t know if it had happened yet or not for what felt like ages. i felt totally in the dark.

so i was laying there feeling numb, not doing anything but trying to reconcile with losing a sibling so soon and staring at my phone, willing news to come through but also praying it would stay silent. in my denial, silence meant what was happening wasn’t actually happening.

then that 🌟 JK live notif came through out of no where and i felt my heart literally stutter because there was just no fucking way. this was the first time i’d ever gotten that notif at that hour in my timezone. he rarely did morning lives, what on earth could he be doing? why now? why why why?

absolutely nothing in that moment was more important than my sister and what my family was experiencing, but there was literally nothing that i or anyone could do. i was helpless and unable to process the million thoughts and questions running through my head. in my desperate need for that familiar comfort, that distraction, i eagerly clicked the notif and was faced with those big, ridiculous brown eyes blinking at me sideways over the top of a blanket in his bed too. “you can’t be serious,” i said to my screen out loud and then i fucking laughed. incredulously, in disbelief, in amusement, in horror, in grief, in happiness, all of the above.

“how did you know?” i wanted to sob, but all i could do was keep laying there, practically comatose (for lack of a better word), as i watched who had steadily become what felt like my closest and dearest friend across the ocean tell me he wanted company falling asleep. it almost felt like a sick joke the universe was playing on me. like hey, you need a distraction from something really bad happening and it’s not gonna change a thing and it’s parasocial as fuck, but it’s literally the only thing that’s been working so far up until this point aka the lowest point. so here he is, the booooy.

anyway, he fell asleep. i finally rested my eyes. my thoughts calmed down for a brief while. frankly, at the risk of sounding insane, i felt like i was being looked after. supported? no, he had no clue. he was in dreamland and his arm was twitching. he hadn’t even said much after the first few minutes and once he passed out, all that mattered until it would inevitably be cut off was the fact that he was just… there.

my sister passed away not too long after the live was turned off. i wasn’t told until a couple hours later, but the fact is this: in the hour leading up to it, i was successfully distracted and i was comforted. of course, it didn’t last long but it had helped me in the moment i most needed it (again, but x10000) and i am forever in jungkook’s debt for those last few moments of solitude before my entire year was flipped on a permanent axis that day. i’m with one less sister and the grief has been insurmountable.

so i just wanna say if it’s seemed like i’ve been leaning a bit more on jungkook than usual this year, this is why. he’s just been an angel for me, quite literally. it’s also why i refuse to entertain any messages i receive slandering him for whatever reason or accusing me of favoring him over anyone else lately when that’s just not the case. i’m just trying to get by. i’m channeling my grief into my content, my creations, and in doing so, i am channeling my love and appreciation into what is getting me through it the most. so it’s a waste of time to twist it into something it isn’t and i’ll only ever give you a pity laugh and move on. none of the kpop industry jargon that people get mad about these days matters to me at all and life is too short to waste being angry about shit you can’t control. you don’t know what people are going through and you don’t know what someone means to someone else or why. so put your energy towards things that make you happy instead. you’ll feel better. i never owed an explanation, but there it is if you’ve been looking for one.

to wrap this up, i didn’t think i’d ever write any of this down and i could probably write essays just as long as this one for all the other members and what they did for me this year too. it’s going to be incredibly hard to see them go. my ult bias for-fucking-ever, my taehyung, i simply do not know how i’m going to get through my days without him. i just can’t picture or fathom it and i don’t fucking want to. he’s my favorite person in the world. i will be so empty with him gone. there are no words for how painful it’ll be so i’m not even gonna try to find them. my sweet jimin who also brings so much comfort and hilarity into my life, i simply cannot stomach the thought of him going away. my dear namjoon who i swear to god yanks my ass back up above water when i feel like i’m drowning in my feelings and inspires me to be better, what the hell am i gonna do? i’m already spiraling without yoongi’s tranquility. and of course, jungkook, who you now know has just been an incredibly special presence in my life this year. someone i’ve learned so much from, laughed with, cried with, eaten with, rested with, who showed up for me over and over and over and has no idea the impact he had, how grateful i am. i’ll never be able to thank him. thank you thank you thank you for being there for me. thank you all the members for fucking being there for me literally all the time.

this sucks! this sucks but i’m gonna power through it with the rest of you. i’m gonna try.

[deltoidlover]

Looks like some shitty ship discussions have surfaced in hl fandom again, but I don't mean that here actually xd

I'd like to hear a little bit (or a lot) more about your fav kind of freehoun if you don't mind sharing! Maybe some pre & post rescas headcanons, idk any stuff you would like to tell, and if you want. No pressure

i'm actually really glad i got an ask like this, i have seen some shipping discourse bubbling back up and it's just. can we not? enjoy what you enjoy, at the end of the day none of this is canon unless valve says otherwise, no need for the infighting. anyway, prepare for a text wall with barely any grammar.

pre-rescas: -i like to think that gordon and barney met very soon after gordon was hired and they got along like a match to a flame (is that the saying?), like barney came along on gordon's first tour of the facility and maybe even got lunch with him. -since the majority of workers at black mesa are most likely 30+, barney was especially drawn to gordon (not only because he was kinda cute) since there was finally another young and seemingly down to earth guy around. -honestly my favourite trope is having barney pine after gordon and try to suppress his major crush on him. -it's kinda sad to say or really acknowledge, but back in the 2000's and early 90's, obv lgbtq+ matters were not as accepted, i mean being called 'gay' was like the worst insult imaginable at the time. because of this, i do think barney would be a little wary of his own gay thoughts, maybe even dislike himself a little because of it. eventually i'm sure he'd grow to accept that he is, in fact, gay. -when it comes to the two hooking up, i really, really like the idea of their relationship being kept hush hush. it's pretty hot ngl and i think it would be the most plausible for their situation. -personally i don't really think barney nor gordon would call eachother pet names, or really say 'i love you' without hesistance. i feel like they'd show their affection in different ways, for gordon he'd show his love through gift giving i think. like the occassional snack for a tired barney on the night shift, or a box of donuts if he's feeling generous. -gordon always makes up excuses for why barney has to visit his dorm room so often. one day it's a faulty tap in the bathroom, or the next a clogged airvent. people seem to believe him because his voice is so monotone.

post-rescase/hl2: -during the years where gordon is abscent, barney, for the most part, holds out on hope that he will come back. over time, as barney gets older and older and nothing seems to be changing but only getting worse, he grows more cynical. i think that maybe 5 or so years before gordon's return, barney had forced himself to settle on the idea that he was not coming back. -after taking gordon into his office, he doesn't outright hug him or ball his eyes out, but it's so so obvious that he's feeling a bunch of old bottled up emotions when gordon looks into his eyes. gordon probably does give him a hug though. -however on gordon's end, i feel like things at the start would be a little awkward. his feelings are as strong as they were back then, as it hasn't been 2 decades for him. -i like to think that around the time when gordon arrived at kleiner's lab, that's when gordon approaches barney about their past and they maybe rekindle things, just a little. like maybe a longing look or kiss on the cheek. -honestly there's not really much i can say about hl2 as barney's appearances are so brief. basically i just think that they'd use every moment they had whilst the other was around to get a little closer again, even if they're not outright smoochin' it up or anything. -HOWEVER, in my happy little half-life, barney arrives at white forest with a group of rebels and he spends a few days in bed all patched up and gordon frequently visits his room and maybe even sleeps there with him, it had been quite a while since they'd met up again, gordon honestly thought barney had been blown tf up after the citadel's explosion. -they basically just hang out A LOT in white forest and eventually one of them works up the courage to start their relationship up again. -i think the idea of them once again sneaking away from crowded areas of the WF base so they can have a little privacy together is pretty cute, like they did in black mesa. -and if we're gonna enter hl3 territory, i think gordon, eli and barney would all set out into the arctic to do combine project borealis mossman stuff, and then save alyx :) amazing writing.

i probably have a lot more ideas floating around in my head but i think this is more than enough lol thanks for the ask, this was fun to put together!

[stardusthuntress]

What Does Real Love Look Like?

Tech x female!reader 

(Now featuring a Part 2!)

Word Count: ~3.6K

Edit: I messed up, this totally calls the reader "woman" several times, I changed the description so it's clear it's a female reader! Sorry!

Summary: Reader likes Tech and struggles when they discover inadvertently that Tech and Phee are together. Ends happy though, I promise! Tech always pulls out his best for those he cares about, especially if they mean the world to him. Depicts an angsty but healthy budding relationship (between Tech and reader). Angsty fluff, sfw (will probably get a NSFW part 2 soon!)

TW: jealousy (reader jealous of Phee); no smut; reader learning to handle emotions in a healthy way with a supportive partner; reader is really struggling, emotionally, so very angsty, ends happy tho! Reader is noted to have had prior bad experiences with relationships - details not mentioned, just the feelings that come after a willing relationship that you realize after the face was, in fact NOT so great. Read the author's note for more info, please! I wrote this from my POV, and I totally did refer to the reader as a woman several times, sorry! I also mentioned the existence of a prior male lover for the reader! 

Heavily inspired by @originalcollectionartistry’s 2-part fic Guess I Waited Too Long (1 and 2) which I highly recommend, because they had a good idea to process emotions about the Tech-Phee thing by writing them out! So, thanks for the inspo, friend! 

Author's Note: I’ve been struggling since Tech and Phee became a canonical thing. I have always felt drawn to Tech, so it hurt to see another man that I liked stolen away by a woman that I felt did not deserve him (her introduction, the way she sat there throwing insults at each of the men and Omega - it is NEVER okay for an adult to insult a kid, in my book - and focusing on a trait that Tech rightly pointed out was not uniquely his, really bothered me). Don’t get me wrong, so far the writers have done a good job at depicting a healthy relationship budding between Tech and Phee, but I still don’t think they would be compatible. I might be biased though. I also realize it is not healthy to look at the situation from an “I liked him and I wanted him” POV. And Phee is turning out to be a much better person than she lets on at first. She just has to get used to someone and warm up to them to let them see her good side. I realize my dislike of her is probably somewhat unfounded. I tend to have very strong emotional responses to things - I need to be tested for a few types of neurodivergency, I am learning that frequent, strong, emotional responses are not a normal response to things. So, I wrote a thing to help me process it! It’s very self-centered. I have had some bad relationships in the past and I thought perhaps the best way to process them without forcing my next real-world partner to deal with them is to deal with them in a fic like this. FYI, this fic is also full of jealousy. Again, reader has strong emotional responses. I wish I didn’t get jealous, but I do, so I need to learn when and where it is okay to let that emotion out and when I need to turn it into something else. Also wanted to write something where Tech’s POV is written out in the way I imagine he thinks, similar to how I think. I have never been good at understanding emotions, I tend to stay quiet and just watch so people don’t scoff at my emotional responses to things, and I like to think that is similar to how he would process it. It’s from both reader and Tech’s POV, just for funsies! This is my first fic on here. I’ve been meaning to pack up the courage and just post something for a while now, and this one needed to be shared, my way of admitting my problems to more than just myself, so thank you if you bother to read this! It also hasn't really been edited well. I wrote and posted it all in one night, and now it's super late and I should get some sleep, but I needed to post it so I stopped bottling up my emotions. So without further ado, the story begins below!

You were in Cid’s parlor when the message came in. She shuffled out of her office already in a bad mood, complaining about how it had been more than 20 rotations since she had heard anything from her operatives and now she finds out they ditched her for Phee, finishing it with a frustrated “and you could even hear Goggles in the background calling her ‘darling’! It’s repulsive! And frustrating, the way they are taking to a life so different than the soldier-ing they were made for! They were my top team!” 

You sat there in shock. Tech… calling Phee ‘darling’? Your heart which had been so heavy with worry about him and his brothers now lay on a million pieces right there in the middle of Cid’s cantina. The world around you was drowned out by the loudness of your own mind. Until a bottle was slammed down on the counter in front of you. 

“What’s your problem?” It was Cid. “I just asked if you wanted to become my top specialist, and you still look like you’re at a funeral.” 

You ignored her and stared into the empty glass in front of you, mind still reeling, barely able to process the words coming out of her mouth. 

“I warned you kid. He didn’t like you like you thought he did, now did he?” 

“Guess not” you muttered more to your glass than anyone else. 

“So what’ll it be, another glass to celebrate being a free woman again? But if you’re going to mope, don’t do it here. I don’t need someone to bring down my customers. So either order another drink or go home, kid” 

Without another word you got up, tossing a few credits on the counter, and left. 

Back home, you cried yourself to sleep, promising yourself a vacation in the morning. You had enough credits for some time off, and you were going to use them. 

After a few weeks of searching (they had once again changed their comms), you finally located the batch on Pabu, and went to ask Hunter if he could tell Tech goodbye for you. He begrudgingly agreed, but then (probably rightfully) double crossed you, and sent Tech onto your ship to talk to you. Hunter was right, it wasn’t fair of you to ask him to play middle man, you needed to face your problems head on. 

Tech found you in your ship’s small living quarters that functioned like a one-room home for you, and you both stood in shock and silence, staring at each other for a few moments before Tech addressed the bantha in the room. 

“Hunter says that you wanted to say goodbye?”

“Yes.” Your answer was short and curt. Tech recognized it as anger, though it was not an emotion he was used to hearing from you, especially not directed at him. You were holding back from him. 

“Why have you become so distant from me? We are friends, are we not?” Tech asked. 

“We were.” You answered. 

“Why has that changed? Have I done something to insult you? If I have, please trust that that was not my intention.” 

“I know.” 

Tech raised his eyebrows and held still, waiting for you to continue. You still hadn’t really answered his question, and he knew you were aware of that. But he was also aware that you seemed to be struggling to find the words. So he remained quiet, giving you time to answer. 

“Tech… why are you doing this? Phee is out there. Why aren’t you out there too?” 

“I… am no longer with her.” 

You just stared at him in an apprehensive silence, now it was your turn to wait for him to continue. It wasn’t like Tech to be anything but long winded. His short answer stunned you. 

He looked at the floor. He could no longer make eye contact with you. Words failed him. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, Tech. But can I ask you a question?” 

“Yes.” He still couldn’t raise his eyes to meet yours, though he did turn towards you. His eyes still trained on the floor, but stealing glances at your hands, which were nervously fidgeting. 

“What do you mean, you’re ‘no longer with her’? I just want to be clear on it. As previous experience has taught me I’m not as good at reading you as I thought I was.” You looked away. 

Tech’s eye’s shot up to you in shock. “I do not recall an instance when you could not read me.” It was almost whispered. 

You shook your head, still refusing to look at him. You couldn’t tell him your feelings for him, not now. 

“So Wrecker and Hunter were not toying with my emotions when they told me that you like me?” 

You turned your head towards your shoulder, still looking down, and gave a curt nod. Some part of you screamed that Tech had practically admitted he liked you, but your insides were too torn apart to process it properly right now. So instead you looked away again. Focusing instead back on the floor in front of you. 

“Phee has good moments, but her endless determination to warp the truth in her favor and downplay the important contributions of others, including that of Omega, is not something I find acceptable. So I left.” 

You finally looked at him. Stepping forward, you reached out a hand to touch him, but quickly pulled it back. It still didn’t feel right for things to go back to the way they had been with him. 

“Please don’t pull back” he was watching your hands. “I want things to go back to the way they were before. I don’t want to lose you. I did not realize that much was at stake or I would have acted differently.” 

“I’m not sure things can go back, Tech.” 

Tech would not take no for an answer. He accepted you might be right, that things could not go back to the way they were, but that did not mean they could not improve. He racked his brain for an alternative answer. 

Touch. You, Hunter, and Phee all had one thing in common: when people were upset you would reassure them with physical contact. Actually it went beyond simple reassurance, touch was quite a common occurrence with you. So he decided to try it now. He reached out and put a hand on your shoulder, albeit a little awkwardly. But your reaction was not one he was expecting. 

You gasped and flinched away. 

He retracted his hand. Watching in shock as you again turned away, this time out of his reach. You gripped your sides tightly. Your sides heaved. You were trying not to cry. 

“Did Phee teach you that?” You asked, and the pain in your eyes made him unable to look away. 

“I noticed that you, Hunter, and Phee all…” he stopped. When you heard her name your hand moved from your waist to cover your mouth and nose. You did not want him to witness your crying. But you could not hide your breathing patterns. 

A hug. He knew that would help. And he needed to finally feel you close to him. So he began to shed his armor and stack it neatly to the side. 

You heard him stacking it and thought he had gone back to work. Simply to ignore you like every guy you had ever been with had done in the past. You turned to leave, but we’re stopped by a pair of arms appearing slowly on either side of you, hovering a few inches away from you.

“May I touch you?” His voice was so small and timid, it was all you could do to keep your emotions inside. “Please?” 

You nodded. His strong arms wrapped tightly around you. And his nose found refuge in the crook of your neck. 

This was new, but as comforting as it was, a part of you hated that this had to start with her name attached to it. You didn’t want to hate her, she seemed nice when she let people in. But you weren’t sure you could ever really forgive her. Even if Tech hadn’t been yours, and the decision was up to both her and him, but not you. There was no holding back the tears now. Your head hung, your shoulders slumped, and the tears flowed. Tech, hung on tight. He didn’t know what else to do. Eventually your tears subsided, leaving behind shaky breaths in its place. 

His nose left your neck, as he tucked his chin into it instead. “Mesh’la” he whispered. 

You scoffed, “don’t you start with that. People only ever use that to get something they want from someone, it never actually means you think I’m pretty. I’ll calm down in a few minutes. You can leave if it bothers you so much.” 

There was silence, but he refused to let go. He was struggling to process it all too. He only ever said things if he meant them, and you knew that. He knew you knew that. But he also knew how blinding emotions could get. It happened to him on occasion too. 

“I don’t need your pity, Tech. Pity, or sympathy, or whatever you choose to call it, it’s the same thing. I never helps people grow, it only ever puts people beneath you. Do NOT call me that out of pity. Only ever say that if you really mean it. To me or anyone else. It is not a comfort word. Okay?” 

“You know I would never say something unless I mean it.” His words were only ever gentle and kind. He rarely ever even raised his voice when he was mad. Another thing you adored about the man. 

You bit your lip. Angry at yourself for your outburst. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “Truly.” 

“I accept your apology. Though I am slightly concerned about your previous partners if your statement is a reflection of your past experiences?” You were quiet. “But that is a discussion for another time, if you are okay with that. For now, back to the matter at hand, why can we not pick up where we left off? I wish to be more than just friends with you this time too.” 

“Again, we can’t, it’s not the same anymore. I don’t have much to contribute to a relationship.”

“Yet, you had prior experience with relationships, I did not. Now I do. I do not see how that is a bad thing. Is it not a good thing that we are on more even footing now?” 

“Not all experience is good experience, Tech.” 

Tech’s heart broke. He had no idea that your prior experiences were not to your liking. His blood boiled at the idea that your last partner had not been aware of what he had. But he did his best to contain the anger, you clearly needed his comfort, not his anger right now. 

“I wanted to share the gaining of experience together. With you and only you Tech. Now that’s not an option. Now every time I look at you, I see only what she… what you experienced with her.” 

“You are jealous.” It was a statement, not a question. But there was no judgment in his tone. Merely an attempt to understand why you were upset. 

“I thought that, with you, I could maybe find a way to make my past experiences something I didn’t hate anymore. I wanted a chance to share the little that I do know with you, because then I would have something to share with you. But now it’s safe to say you definitely know more than I do. I really struggle to learn while dealing with such strong emotions. And my experience is a less than adequate match for what you have no doubt learned from her. I thought perhaps we could gain more experience together. It would have made me feel better if you were learning beside me. Now you have experience… and I… I am left behind… again. I felt like my last relationship left me with less of an understanding about what makes a guy tick than I started with. I know it is unfair to have ever held you to that, though. I’m sorry.” 

Tech still wasn’t good at feelings. He knew that. But he needed to make sure you knew that he was still the same man you fell in love with. And he hated watching the tears run down your face. “I will never leave you behind.” 

“And that’s the problem, Tech. I wanted to learn together. I don’t want a partner to have to teach me everything. I’ve been the partner that has to teach the other person, not sexually, but otherwise, and it’s really draining. I can’t ask you to do that for me.” 

“We can still do this without it becoming ‘draining’, as you say. Every person has different necessities in a relationship. There is nothing wrong with having needs, everyone has needs and limits. We can still learn each other side by side. This relationship does not have to be like your last, we can actively choose to make it different.” 

You were quiet. You couldn’t protest that. 

Tech's signature half smile graced his lips. You were his equal in mind, and that was one of the many reasons he loved you. But there were still moments where he could outsmart you, because that’s life. 

“I’m still me. I’m still new to this too. I still want to learn with you. If you’ll have me?” He asked, one hand sliding around the arms curled at your waist, until it found your hand. Fingers slowly and gently threading themselves between yours. 

You smiled and nodded. 

“Would it be easier for you if I did not use the knowledge I learned while with… Phee?” He wasn’t sure if he should even mention her name. The last thing he wanted was to upset you more. 

“No!” 

Tech flinched at your abruptness, but looked at you with curiosity. 

“Don’t make yourself into something you’re not for me. I love that you’ve learned more about relationships, it just hurts that it wasn’t with me like I had hoped. I just need your patience….. a lot of patience, while I process that… among other things. I know that’s a lot to ask—” 

“—No.” It was his turn to be abrupt and firm. “And I am more than discontent that your prior relationships left you feeling so inadequate. I just want you to feel comfortable being yourself around me. I’m still not very good at emotions either. Again, there is nothing wrong with having needs, so long as those needs are communicated. Everyone has boundaries and experiences they’d rather not repeat. Can we agree that communicating to the best of our ability is paramount, no matter how difficult it may be?” He pulled back and stepped in front of you, putting both hands on your shoulders as he spoke. 

“That sounds like a good idea to me. I can’t guarantee that I will always be able to put words to what I am feeling, nor will I entirely understand it myself. And it may take me a long time to get used to the idea that you were with someone while I still loved you.”

“We are both only human.” He stated. “You know I will also be in the same boat in terms of emotional processing, but you needed to hear me say it, didn’t you?” He stepped towards the chair and sat down. 

You nodded. “Like you said, clear communication from the start, yeah?” 

“Yes.” He replied. He opened his arms to you, offering a hug. 

You gave a watery smile, and stepped towards him, pressing your nose into the collar of his shirt. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you to the bed and then into his lap. Holding you tight in an attempt to comfort you and show you how much you meant to him. He couldn’t bear to see you in pain. 

“Can I ask you a question? You have no obligation to answer if you do not wish to do so, nor do you need to respond today if you do choose to answer it.” He asked, mirroring your question from the beginning of the conversation. 

You sniffled “yes.” 

“Would I be correct in assuming your last relationship left you feeling inadequate sexually, and/or beyond the bedroom?” 

You held your breath and gripped him tighter, curling into his chest even more than you already had. Trying to make yourself smaller. You didn’t know how to answer, or even if you could find your voice if you wanted to try to reply. It was all you could do to focus on breathing steadily, though each breath had gotten decidedly shaky. But he didn’t need you to say anything. Your body language was communication enough in that moment, as was your behavior leading up to this moment. The answer to both questions was yes. He gripped you tighter in return. 

“I am so sorry that happened to you. I will not bring it up again, unless you wish to talk about it. Though I must say I am rather angry at your last partner for leaving you like this. I want you to know it is not your fault, and I will do everything I can to support you through this. I cannot solve it for you, but I do not think you need me to do so, you are a very strong, brilliant woman already. I merely wish to be by your side to see you succeed.” 

“And here I promised myself I would not start a relationship in tears. I have a tendency to let my emotions get in the way, I’m sorry.” 

“There is no need to apologize. I merely wanted to gauge how I should proceed. Do not worry, I will not treat you like a delicate ornament, I am well aware you are strong and capable. Everyone has moments where they need to take some time to themselves and let emotions out. I am glad you feel comfortable around me again, enough to let me see your emotional side. I love this side of you just as much as I love the rest of you, because it is as much a part of you as all the other pieces. Please do not let my presence stop you from letting it out if that is what you need to do right now.” 

Your grip on his shirt loosened slightly. “Thank you” you mumbled into his chest, sniffling again. 

“Now, we’ve both done a lot of emotional sharing tonight. What do you say we get some rest and take this as slow as we need to?” 

You nodded. 

“Please let me take care of you tonight, Mesh’la. I wish to show you my love through my actions as well as my words.” 

“Okay.” The gleam was returning to your eye, and it made him happy to see you regaining some of that spark that he loved so dearly. 

He placed you down on the bed and began gathering all the pillows and blankets he could find and bringing them to the bed. 

“I realize you didn’t want to start a relationship like this. However, I have heard that it is beneficial to be best friends before a relationship begins?” He posed it as a question rather than a statement. It was his way of asking whether this train of thought was one you were willing to pursue with him. 

“I’ve heard that too.” Permission granted. 

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he handed you a pillow to hug. 

“Will you let me comfort you like a best friend would? And then perhaps we can get a second chance at starting a relationship in a more positive manner in the morning?” He returned with one last pillow and sat down beside you. You turned to him and opened your arms, asking for a hug. He obliged with a happy smirk. 

“Thank you, Tech. That means a lot to me.” Your grip on him tightened, and he came to realize this was not a scared grip, but a grateful one. 

“Will you stay with me, tonight?” You whispered into his shoulder. 

“In the same bed, by your side?” He inquired, gently. Clear communication. Your heart soared. So that’s what understanding looked like. So many times before you had been promised clear communication only for you to come out the other side realizing that partner didn't really know what that really meant, or to feel like they had been making fun of your need to communicate everything instead of asking politely as Tech had just demonstrated. 

Tech could feel you smile into his shoulder. 

“Yes.” 

“I shall.” 

He lifts the covers and gets you both tucked you in, noting your insecurity and struggle with letting him care for you. You're not used to being treated like this. He doesn’t like that. You have always done so many small, caring things for him. He feels like this is the least he can do for you. One last tear trickled down your cheek, and he kissed it away. Perhaps that was not what a best friend would do, but he loved you more than that anyways and you knew that now. Besides, it made you smile, that was what mattered. 

Things would be different this time. Things would be better this time. Tech was not like your previous lovers. He was observant and communicative, and you loved that part of him dearly. There was still lots to talk about, but it didn't all need to be processed in one sitting.

Please don't steal my work! I pour my heart into these so if you like it please reblog to share instead of reposting it!

[ryuichirou]

Replies

More replies~

Anonymous asked:

Do you watch other adult swim cartons like moral orel or the venture bros?

Not really, sorry :( Nothing against these shows, I guess we just don’t gravitate towards them. Venture Bros was recommended to us though.

Anonymous asked:

"Nooo Ortho wanted to slurp this one" not a problem at all, i don't mind sharing uwu uhuhuhuh sorry for cursing the askbox so soon too XDDD i couldn't help it

Ah it’s so nice when people share… uwu

No worries btw, every single thing in this blog is cursed one way or another, so it really fits xD

Anonymous asked:

No bc the way your fem idia is just insanely body goals

Omg Anon, thank you?? I don’t think if she should be body goals though, she’s kind of too skinny for her height… she just has a high metabolism genetically I guess, I’m pretty sure any other means of achieving her appearance would be unhealthy...

Anonymous asked:

I never thought about ADeuce in the future, but the idea of them being together without really committing to a relationship makes a lot of sense.

I imagine a similar scenario for Ruggie/Leona. They wouldn't even see eachother that frequently, but they still keep in touch and hook up whenever they do meet. They are not just keeping this up because it's beneficial to them, they actually seem to enjoy eachother's company. It's not anything close to dating, and they would never call it love, but I feel like that's the highest level of commitment you can get from either of them. Also Ruggie would probably spend a lot of time working, leaving the Sunset Savanna quite often. If he sees a chance to bag some extra cash he is not going to let a little distance stop him! Meanwhile Leona is just hanging around the royal court. Has he given up on his plan to help the poor people of his country or is he cooking something? Honestly not even Ruggie knows...

(this is related to the 6th reply from this post)

ADeuce really are a bit annoying like that, but I love them for it. Everyone knows you want to be together, guys. You’re just being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn, because you’re too afraid the other party is going to ridicule you for expressing your feelings that both of you are already aware of, because you’ve been sleeping together for years, COME! ON!

Also everything you said about Ruggie/Leona makes sense! Ruggie is too busy and focused on his job(s) to start a family, and Leona is either plotting something or just doing nothing being unmotivated… so whenever they have an opportunity to do so, hooking up sounds logical: why not? It’s definitely not love and not a romantic relationship, but it is a relationship nonetheless… a mutually beneficial one, but also a surprisingly “comfortable” one because both of them are so used to this dynamic that doesn’t require any emotional effort. They’re surprisingly on the same page.

Anonymous asked:

i might have written an OC spanking Riddle once :eyes: usually i just see characters and readers or OCs being spanked by Riddle, but he would be so cute being spanked! teary eyed, confused and flustered, his ass clearly needs attention

(this is related to the 2nd reply from this post)

I know right? For some reason it just works. Maybe it’s because of his backstory and him being so very serious but also so immature, but if you imagine a spanking scenario with Riddle, it’s like… he belongs there lol

Anonymous asked:

About how young was Silver when he and Lilia first started fuckin 🤔 honestly I'm super interested in what those early days would have looked like, and how their first few times would go

Honestly, it depends on whatever route you want to take for any specific post/art/comic/etc, and I feel like with us it’s always a very vague and implied “kind of young”.

We explain it with Lilia having uhh alternative views on parenting, it’s like a mix of him being a fae (turns out, this doesn’t excuse him 😔), him not knowing how children work and him adoring Silver way too much and having too much fun with him. He’s not the best person lol So yeah, Silver was probably way too young to figure out what’s going on, but also this whole thing was a “norm” to him, because it also happened very gradually: the goodnight kisses became more mature, the way they cuddle changed; and with Silver absolutely adoring Lilia, trusting him so much and believing that Lilia only wants what’s best for him, he never had a problem with any of it. Even the first times weren’t too much of a shock to him, especially since Silver considered it to be some special type of training that he really wanted to get good at as soon as possible.

The Zigvolts would’ve been terrified if they found out…….

[ghooostbaby]

Rules: tag 9 people you'd like to get to know better!

ooh thank you for tagging me @baiwu-jinji :) :) that edge of the sea book sounds really interesting!

Last song: I put on a playlist of Grouper songs because it started raining hard and I needed something soft & dark to go with the ambience haha. apparently the song being played right now is called “She Loves Me That Way”

Currently Watching: Till the End of the Moon officially but it’s so emotionally intense I take frequent breaks with other things, today I was rewatching No Doubt In Us because it’s so sweet and easy

Currently reading: hmmm actually actually read, or books that I really absolutely definitely have decided I want to start reading Very Soon and have strategically placed it in a pile in a high traffic area of my home, or theory/philosophy books I read a few pages of every few months for the last few years, or (probably danmei) novels that I read a chunk of several months ago and will read more but I just haven’t felt like it yet? because there are dozens of those :P ... actively finishing The Drawing Book by Tania Kovats, various mxtx novel fan fictions or akiangel chainsaw man fan fictions. constantly reading he xuan fan fic ! i just finished vol 2 of the manga Blissful Land, 18th century tibet-based slice of life, (a french translation I got to practice french). I have also been reading in abrupt starts and stops It Was Vulgar and It Was Beautiful, a book about ACT UP and how they used art in their activism in the AIDS crisis.

Current obsession: does this just mean an enthusiastic interest in a topic or something that is consuming you body and soul that you can't escape as much as you would like to while your proverbial wife and children cry themselves to sleep alone at night? tv and movies and music generally is the obsession that devours me, but oddly enough i have been somehow pretty balanced and chill about things lately ... i'm not even gripped with a fervour for he xuan meta as much. i AM often thinking/fantasizing about abandoning living in a city and for a life in the mythical countryside. reading/watching a lot of things about neurodivergence, adhd, trauma, climate change, social activism movements. past obsessions that don't feel as intense i still hold close to my heart: he xuan, the ocean, neanderthals, ancient cave paintings. uhh, coffee. i started taking a ceramics class and it's been really cool, I remember when i was deeply obsessed with the lascaux cave paintings how excited i was by how the drawings seemed so dynamic by how they sat on the three-dimensional and inconsistent surface of the cave in the lumps and hollows of the rock and I couldn't think of anything in the modern world in art in galleries where that was possible and felt this intense nostalgia for 30 000 years ago, but the other day i was like adfjladsjfadlskjf CLAY IS IT! and was getting excited about making a piece like the interior of a cave and drawing on it ... maybe it's a spark of a new obsession

-

ok now is the hard part. i am talkative but SHY!! there is a very small handful of mutuals who say things to me and feels very intense to tag any of the majority of my mutuals who appear in my notes often silently reblogging/liking my posts (as i do the same). i'm going to scroll my dash and when i see an avatar i have good associations with gonna tag you... sorry in advance for perceiving you. please ignore me if you want!

@unfotp​ @muigiel​ @trainstationsparrow @redheadedsidhe @yeyayeya @pretty-dianxia @twinkfvcker @lolitalarva @sparklemotioneer

[scmg11]

Hey bubs i am back again to nag you and remind you that I AM STILL VERY MUCH IN LOVE WITH YOU AND YOU ARE DEFINITELY STILL MY FAVOURITE AUTHOR❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃..Thanks again for everything and please take care of yourself and stay hydrated!!!

P.S. - Is there an upcoming series about lost in the multiverse cause it is seriously one of your best works and I am sorry it is not getting the recognition it deserves..

No pressure on you tho..I know you have other series to finish🙃🙃🙃

Yours,

Z❤️ ( Something to remember me by🙃🫂)

Hey babe, you need to seriously stop saying you are nagging me because you are not!! You can write in the request box whenever you want and I will always be so freaking happy to write you back 🫶

Reading your messages always so full of love and appreciation for me warms my heart SO much 🥹 I can’t express how much I love you ❤️ it really means the world to me, especially in this particular period of time where I don’t post as frequently as I did months back. Watching you guys still supporting me this much makes me cry every single time I think about it, I don’t deserve you 🥹🥺❤️

Anyway, I will probably start writing about the Lost In The Multiverse series after the chapter I am working on, even though there are a few chapters already finished that will be posted first (3 of them). So I hope I will be able to post it soon since I am trying to proofread everything and trying to write as much as I can at night (usually I go to sleep around 2 or 3 a.m. lol).

Thank you again Z, and remember I love you and whenever you feel the need, you know where to find me! 🫶❤️ I hope you’re having or you’ll have a great day ❤️

Sending you SO much love ❤️

[buckyarchives]

night shift

part two here!

Bruce Wayne X GN! reader

contains: good ol’ fluff, stranger to lovers

summary: after months of Bruce being a regular at the waffle house you work at, you soon realized you had been messing up his order the entire time.

author note; here my first little oneshot posted to tumblr, im still getting used to this website and writing again, so please be nice. request are open and enjoy!

the buzzing sound of the old fluorescent panel lights fills up the void of your shift at waffle house, really not the best job, but money is money and someone has to pay rent. It was a rather quiet and slow morning for it was 4:30 am. a trucker was sitting enjoying coffee and some eggs and a few homeless sleeping in the booths, which isn’t allowed but you were not a horrible person so you would let them be, but besides that. it was almost empty. you turned to clean the counter and random spills of ingredients on the floor, before you’d hear the soft jingle of the doorbells, looking up from the counter to see one of our more famous regulars. Bruce Wayne, billionaire, and prince of Gotham. which you didn’t know for a while since you had moved here for college and stayed for work, not growing up in the city.

he sat down at the bar counter. he was a regular so you already had his order up and handed to the back. he looked tired, he wore his usual puffy black jacket, a baseball cap, and an unusual amount of snugged black eyeliner, you never questioned it. 

“good-morning, bruce,” you said, just to fill the void.

“morning,” he replied in his usual soft voice. bruce wasn’t what people had made him out to be, he was quiet, he usually whispered every time he talked. he was introverted, and well, he’s a billionaire, he could probably afford gourmet food every day of the week. but no, he frequently came here, sometime 2-4 times a week, usually at ungodly times at night or morning. he was also just very nice and gave you and the other server large tips every time.

“How are you today?” you asked the man, hanging his head down low. 

“very busy with work.” he sighed, giving me a small close-lipped smile. avoiding eye contact still.

“I can't imagine.” you throw some dirty towels into the trash.

ding!

reaching over to grab the warm plate of food, handing it over to the man.

“thank you.” the quiet voice said and he began eating. You had to go to the back for a second to clean and organize some stuff but soon after you had come back and bruce called you over.

“uh, hello.” bruce studdered, he was a little nervous 

“yes, anything I can help you with?” you rushed over to his side of the counter.

“I don’t mean to be rude, I think you may have been getting my order wrong,” he said, and your eyes went wide and before you could react you were already apologizing.

“oh my god, I'm so so sorry! would you like me to make you a new one?” 

“no, no.” he shook his head. “this is fine, I like this too.” 

“Are you sure? I can get you a new one, it’s on me.” you kept asking.

‘i can't believe I’ve been getting this man’s order wrong for months, this is so fucking embarrassing.’

“no,” he smiled shyly. “really, it’s okay.” bruce reassured you.

“I’m so sorry, it’s just— “ you took a large breath. “usually when you’re here, it's loud and noisy and you are a very soft-spoken man, and— I'm just so sorry, do you want me to change your order.” 

“it’s okay, you don’t need to.” he laughed, “should I speak louder when I’m here,” he said, a little louder than his last statements. His clearer voice raised goosebumps to your arms and thighs.

“we’ll not now, it’s pretty quiet, but sometimes it gets a little loud and you kinda got to speak up a little.” laughing with embarrassment, you felt like crawling into a hole. “I’m still sorry, this is embarrassing.”

“it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed.” he smiled softly at you, making your heart warm, you didn't often see his face change from his normal monotone face so this was a little refreshing. trying to laugh it off and you went back to cleaning and getting a coffee for myself. You heard bells jingle again, expecting a new costume but you turned around and bruce was gone and his plate was clean, a tip and note were placed next to it.

thank you for the food,

didn’t mean to make you embarrassed lol

I like the order you mistook mine for anyways

have a good night and stay safe

  - bruce :)

his messy handwriting was cute, and a 20 and 10 dollar was placed under it.

“generous.” you smiled and continued the rest of your shift with small butterflies in your chest from the sweet interaction.

that next week bruce came in once again, the diner was a little busier but you still wanted to ask for his order, just in case.

“hey bruce, what can I get you?” you said, he smiled at me and shook his head.

“the usual.” 

and with that, you gave the usual order to the chef and continued to be bombarded with random orders and arguably stupid questions. pouring coffee into 2 cups for a couple, you heard the bell ring and a loud screech.

“OH MY GOD! Is that fucking Bruce Wayne.” a high-pitched girl yelled, you spilled the burning hot coffee on your hand, and the pain ran throughout your hand, rushing over to the sink to run into over cold water.

“are you okay?” you looked up to see Bruce, standing up, leaning over the counter to get a better look at you. concern washed over his face. behind him was a group of girls, maybe 4 or 5, taking pictures of bruce, bruce was too occupied with taking care of you to pay attention to the fangirling behind him.

“yes, I’m fine.” you rubbed your hand, walking toward the counter. “this isn’t the first time.” you chuckle to ease his growing concern. 

“let me see.” he grabbed your wrist, not touching the burn on the surface of your hand. Bruce's face was inches from yours, the two of you being the closest you could be with the counter in between you.

flash!

You had looked to the side of bruce, one of the teenage girls had taken a picture of the two of you. Bruce was again, too busy to notice, still examining your hand to look at the burn, he thought in his head how soft your hands were compared to his.

“Bruce, it’s okay, I’ll bandage it up later.” you pulled your hand away, looking up and making immediate eye contact with him for a moment, flinching away after hearing the ring of the bell, telling you bruce’s food was ready. You pulled away and grabbed his plate and sat it down in front of him. 

“thank you.” 

Walking over to the booth of girls, ready to deal with this. it’s not that you are someone who hates everyone under the age of 18 but they annoy you as a server at a diner that was labeled as “trashy.” they never tip and are always splitting the bill, and they are usually very loud and sometime they’ll throw food and trash around, never picking it up.

“are you close with bruce Wayne?” one of them asked before you could even open your mouth to ask what they want. 

“Um, no.” you said, a little annoyed “What would you like to order?”

“Are you sure? You guys looked pretty close in this picture.” another girl scoffed looking through her phone, which you could assume she was looking at the picture of you two. I'm sure it looked bad.

“What would you like to order,” you asked again firmly, making sure they knew you didn't want to talk about that.

After the long-ass order from the group of girls, you took the note to the chef and brought over their beverages, and headed to your usual station, closer to bruce, unconsciously feeling safer near his presence. 

“What time do you get off work?” bruce snapped you out of your thoughts. 

“Uh,” you looked at the time on your wrist.

11:37

“Like an hour and a half.” that felt like forever with how tired you were, your head was pounding and your legs ached from the long shift.

“Oh, I just had a personal question I wanted to ask you before you went home.” bruce was nervous. a couple of days after his last visit to the diner, Alfred had notified him about a banquet event coming up he was required to go to, Alfred had been pushing on him about getting a date as a plus one was highly recommended. He doesn't know many people that would be enjoyable to go with but weirdly, you popped into his head.

“You can ask me now.” you looked around to check if you were wanted anywhere before.

“Well, I just wanted to know if– uh, would you like to go on a date?” bruce studdered out, he mentally facepalmed at how badly he butchered that. You were taken aback by a lot, why was Bruce Wayne asking you out on a date?

“Sure!” you answered without even thinking, a breath of relief came across bruce. 

“Great.” he smiled widely, making quick eye contact before swiping a napkin and a pen from your apron and bruce began writing something. “Here is my number, text me after your shift.” 

He put the napkin back into your apron. ‘What a sly man,’ you thought for a moment before he said his goodbyes and walked out the door once again. You stood there dumbfounded at what had just happened. If someone told you a year ago that moving here would result in going on a date with cities prince, you would have laughed.

“y/n! Orders up.” the chef yelled at you, snapping you out of your thoughts, dinging the metal bell multiple times. You continued the rest of your shift with bruce on your mind, just waiting to get off to text the man.

[softxsuki]

...It's me again- can I have a urgent request with eren,levi and Jean with romantic s/o that has covid, but like it's really bad? (Headcanons pls)

It's like my surgery wasn't enough I needed to catch covid and I saw people yesterday 🥲

I feel like my whole body is dying rn

Thanks 😃❤️

Eren, Levi, and Jean Taking Care of Reader with Covid

Pairings: Eren x Gn!Reader, Levi x Gn!Reader, Jean x Gn!Reader

Warnings: reader sick with Covid

Genre: Modern AU, Comfort, some fluff?

Post-Type: Headcanons

Word Count: 900

Summary: How the boys react to you getting sick with Covid

[A/N: Hey! Thank you for your patience with your request. I'm sorry it's a little short and they might not be that great. I couldn't think of anything directly romantic to add to these, so I kept the romance a little subtle I hope that okay. I'm not exactly in the best mental state right now, but I wanted to get this done for you while you were still feeling unwell to help provide you with some comfort. So I hope these came out at least a little decent. Feel better soon <3 also sorry if there are any mistakes, I didn't proofread :(.]

Eren:

Protect this man

He’s so scared for you; literally thinks you’re going to die (you're not of course)

But he doesn’t outwardly show it, he’s just kinda freaking out on his own

You’re supposed to be quarantining in your room on your OWN, but Eren refuses to take his eyes off of you, he’ll sit in a chair in the corner of the room and keep you company no matter how many times you tell him to get out before he gets himself sick

No lie though, he would probably cozy up beside you in bed just so he can keep an even closer eye on you and properly take care of you

So consider your whole house a quarantine zone because he’s 100% getting infected with Covid and he doesn’t care

He takes very good care of you, giving you 10000% of his attention, making sure you get better as soon as possible

He googles a whole bunch of homemade remedies that people said worked for them, and prepares it all for you (orders all the ingredients online for delivery)

He takes your temperature every hour and as much as it hurts to see you in discomfort, he confiscates all your heavy blankets so your fever can go down quicker

Anything you want or need, he gets it for you

He also makes sure that you get plenty of rest, so while you sleep, he tries to keep himself occupied doing something else around the house or playing a game or something, making sure the volume is low so he doesn’t wake you up, but stays in the bedroom so he can watch over you

He’s super relieved when you’re fully healed, but get ready because it’ll be your turn to take care of him now, he has zero regrets though, he’s glad he was able to care for you instead of avoiding you for a week

Levi:

Let’s not kid ourselves here, Levi is GONE as soon as he knows you have Covid

But that doesn’t mean he won’t take care of you–he just does so from afar

As soon as he finds out, your bedroom becomes your quarantine zone

He starts wearing a mask around the house 24/7, even when he showers because he is NOT taking any chances, he refuses to get sick

However, he does want you to get better and his heart breaks at hearing your coughs and groans of fatigue and pain, so he comes up with a plan

He prepares you meals and leaves them outside the door for you, knocking quickly to let you know the food is ready and runs to the other side of the room and waits for you to get your food

It’ll be a relief for you though, knowing that Levi won’t get sick because of you

He’s extra diligent and frequent with his cleaning even though you never leave the room for the whole week, using the connected bathroom in the room to shower and use the toilet; Levi sticks to the spare bathroom and bedroom

He’s a busy, responsible man though so he does continue to go to work; he calls a friend over to watch over you to make sure you have someone around incase of an emergency and someone to make sure you’re well fed and hydrated

His phone ringer stays on for a change incase he receives a call and needs to rush to you immediately

Once you’re fully recovered and Covid free, Levi gets to work in cleaning your spare bedroom because he needs to be back to sleeping by your side immediately; he’d never admit how much he missed having you in his arms as he slept–that week was especially lonely for him and he’s relieved to have you healthy and happy again

Jean:

Jean is another one who is super worried at first, especially when he notices your discomfort

He does stick to keeping his distance from you, but it kills him inside to be parted from you for so long, so as the days pass he gets very impatient

Tries entering your room where you’re quarantining before the recommended amount of days is up, so be strict with him, he’ll listen if you tell him no

Jean pretends to busy himself around the house, calling in for work saying he can’t make it, but his excuse to you is that he’s feeling a little under the weather (lies)

He’ll never admit that he’s worried about you or that he’s calling in just so he can keep an eye on you

He sits behind the door and asks you to sit on the other side of it and you guys have some conversations, but then he feels bad when he hears you cough and tells you to get back in bed so you can rest

Keeps you well fed and even tries to sneakily hand you your food himself, but you have to shoo him away

He can’t wait for the day that he can hold you and kiss you again, he misses you more than he thought he would–not that he’d admit it

He tries to act normally when you’re cleared to end your quarantine, but his giddy smile that slips out a few times gives him away

Good luck getting out of his grip, he’s super clingy for the next few days

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

Posted: 10/18/2022

[gretagerwigsmuse]

it’s here! this is going to be such a nice friday night treat for me these next few weeks! there were so many absolutely sweet and fluffy moments between them and so absolutely heartbreaking moments, as well! i’m so curious to see if she puts off telling him in the morning (the welcome home crew will be there bright and early i’m sure 😉) and to see if bradley has more of a clue as to what’s actually going on! more below 💕

“I think I love lying to him if it means I have him back.” - oh sweet girl!!

…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. - i’m gonna say it again (and feel like i’m gonna be saying this a lot tbh) oh sweet girl!!! (also i love oatmeal raisin cookies)

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. - fuckkkkkkkk anytime she mentions something like this my heart clenches 🥺 sweet girl

There’s still time to soak in his love before he remembers, there’s still time to lose yourself in this fantasy. - this is so dreamy and pretty! and i love that bradley’s so clingy

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. - eeeeep i squealed!!! i’m so soft for this!!!

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. - yes yes yes!! this is exactly how i imagine bradley!! so sweet and kind and completely besotted! ugh i wish it was me

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. - oh my gosh can you imagine if he found something like that in the middle of the night? i know there’s no way that boy deleted ANYTHING and probably stared longingly at his camera roll before bed each night

You hadn’t held hands this frequently even when you’d been together, not that Bradley knows there’s a difference. - wait that’s so cute!!

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. - see now this is interesting! it makes me wonder if he does remember? or if he thinks what actually happened was a dream he had while he was sleeping post accident?

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……You’re scared about more than just that. You haven’t held him in weeks, nor has he held you. - oh 🥺🥺

“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.” - genuinely cried at this part

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. - this is such a good line!!! i’m also so shocked she was going to tell him so soon! but yes i totally agree with her, it was already so hard to muster up the courage idk if i could do it again so soon

“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,” - oh sweet girl! he just knows her so well!?!? god i’m dying i can tell i’m gonna cry again later

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. - oh my god mav is too funny!! this is one thing i love about bradley x mitchell reader fics, the dynamic is always so fun

“…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.” - i really love your depiction of carole in this series! she’s exactly how i imagined, she’s protective and smart, but she’s also got this edge to her too that says she doesn’t take shit (lovingly ofc) and her comment later about the puzzles is so funny

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. - ughhhhh i know he gives the best hugs ☺️☺️ they’re so sweet with each other. and hugging is so underrated in fics, i absolutely melt at a nice long hug like this

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.” - again! this makes me feel like he knows something?

“I can’t wash my hair,” He laments, “It hurts.” - YESSSSSS I WAS HOPING THIS WOULD HAPPEN!! i’m a sap (HA!) for this

“I just need you,” He breathes, clutching at your shoulders like they’ll recover his plane, “Just don’t leave, please.” - awwwwww bubs 🥺 it’s like his body still knows he hasn’t been around her lately but his brain just hasn’t caught up?

“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.” - i had to highlight this entire part because i love it so much! and i know i’ve said it already but it’s like he knows and he also wants to put off the conversation? idk i’m so excited for the next part!!

Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 2) / Part 1

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!

[celestialevie]

Leave before you love me // Fred Weasley x GN! reader

(GIF credit to the rightful creator)

Genre: Angst with implied smut towards the end.

Words: 1k

Warnings: making out, implied smut, mentions of being heartbroken, commitment issues

Summary: Fred and y/n are best friends during the day, but sometimes when the night comes, they are more than that.

A/N: I'm back with posting fics with a smaller angsty Fred fic. It's very much inspired by the song I linked above so if you haven't heard it, I definitely reccomend!!

Have you ever wondered what happens at Hogwarts at night? What kind of things are going on in the shadows while professors sleep peacefully? This particular situation may not apply to every single person, but I can assure you that it occurs more frequently than people realize.

Fred Weasley, the popular Gryffindor and prankster, as well as his twin brother George, are among those affected. Hooking up with your best friend wasn't the best time you've ever had, especially since you're not the type to settle down in a relationship. Been there and done that. Got heartbroken and scarred for entrnity. It's not like it's the first time you've been in this type of arrangement. Hooking up and sleeping with other people was something you were best at. But now you're too far gone at this arrangement you made with Fred about hooking up. During the day, you two are pretending like you've never even seen a peak of other's naked skin, yet alone that you've remembered the freckles all over his body. It's easier to avoid involving your friends in this mess that you've created together. According to our friends, the most intimate thing Fred and you have done is kiss each other on the cheeks and hug. Maybe they smacked each other's butts out of a joke now and then, but that's about it. You used to hook up once or twice a week when you first started the arrangement . It started as a small joke at one of the post-quidditch game gryffindor parties, about how you were curious about his size and how dissatisfied the girls he slept with must be. That's how you got into his bed the first time. The second time, you were distraught over something and needed a distraction. Fred provided you with the ideal distraction in the room of requirement. It kept happening, so you decided to make some ground rules if we were going to keep going. One of them was that you were not to sleep with other people unless you wanted the arrangement to end, and you were not to tell anyone about the hookups. No catching feelings was probably the most important and heartbreaking one for Fred. You were honest with him about it, and he witnessed your anguish firsthand. You weren't going to let that happen again; your heart couldn't take another heartbreak like that. Staying the night with Fred would be the dream, but you don't want him to start thinking you'd changed your mind about commitment. He means the world to you and loosing him would be even worse, just thinking about loosing Fred makes you want to cry your heart out.

You were currently hanging out in the Gryffindor common room with our friends, discussing the twins' most recent prank. "Poor McGonagall's going to have a heart attack soon with you two," Angelina said, wiping away tears from how hard she was laughing along with the rest of us. It was shortly after dinner, so we didn't have much time before it was time for people to go to their dorms according to prefects' rules. "Oh please, she loves us and is used to all the explosions going on around the castle by now; otherwise, why would she give us detentions with her?" Fred's grin made you roll your eyes. "As if. She can't wait until we're all done so she can retire and stop teaching future Weasleys. Bill, Charlie, and Percy tricked the poor woman into thinking the Weasley children were well-behaved. Then you two appeared. '' Fred let out a feigned gasp. "Are you implying that my children will be like me? That's the sweetest thing you've said to me in a while." As if you don't compliment his bed skills every time you're done. You poked your finger into his ribs, causing him to yelp. " So full of himself as always " the group continued talking about your day when Fred slowly leaned closer to your ear and whispered, " Room of requirement. Meet me there in an hour after George and Lee have fallen asleep," he said, returning to his previous position.

You were in front of the room of requirement an hour later, waiting for Fred. He arrived a minute later, and you went inside. You started making out right away, slowly moving back towards the bed that was there. Fred scooped you up in his arms and tossed you onto the bed before climbing on top of you and continuing his assault on your lips. You let out a small moan. It's amazing how much you're still surprised by the taste of his lips. His lips slowly moved from your lips to your neck, gently sucking at it. One of the rules you had was that hickeys care allowed only in places where other people couldn't see them. You tangled your fingers in his hair, turning your head to the side to give him more room to kiss your neck. You gathered your strength and rolled over on top of Fred, becoming impatient. He was in his pajamas, just like you, so it didn't take you long to remove his clothes while still kissing him passionately. "God, I love kissing you," you murmured as you moved down his chest, kissing him all the way down to his crotch. As you began palming him, he grabbed your hand and turned you over, quickly removing your clothes. "I'm hoping to receive some new compliments from you. I hope you don't let me down, love," he winks at you and the love tango starts.

You were finished in two hours, and Fred had just fallen asleep. You're exhausted, but you knew better than to fall asleep next to him. You get out of bed gently and quietly, put your clothes back on, and the very familiar note he's seen thousands of times is placed on the opposite side of the bed that he lays on. As you press a gentle kiss on the top of his head, he stirs slightly, causing you to freeze in place, hoping he doesn't wake up. You rush out of the room quickly but quietly, leaving him alone with a note that says ' I'm sorry x '.

[dungeon-apprentice]

ID in alt text. Direct link to the original artwork in the source of this post.

One of the things I appreciate most as a dungeon master is when my players not only RP (I love you for it), but immerse themselves to the degree where they try to avoid mechanical terms like "short rest" or "skill check". So here are some ways I've found that can be done, if you really want to treat your game master/storyteller/person who runs the game to some immersion they don't have to be responsible for!

Skill Checks

Instead of saying "I want to roll [skill] to..." (because, you don't get to choose your skill check - the game master does), instead explain what it is that you want to achieve:

"Do I believe what she's saying about her family?"

"I want to look for signs of hidden doors in this room."

"I am going to take the device apart to see if I can figure out how it was made."

"Does the painting look like anything I can recognize?"

Doing it like this means you hand your game master a springboard on a silver platter (unsure if that combination of metaphors work, but whatever) from which they can easily jump into a description of your efforts.

Resting

If you work with a system like D&D where you are encouraged to take frequent in-game rests, it's a lot more immersive to talk to your fellow players about your needs for rest if you do it in character, instead of saying "I'm out of spell slots" or "I want to take a short rest". Here are some suggestions:

"I really need a moment to sit down."

"Don't know about the rest of you, but I have some wounds I have to tend to."

"I can't go on like this, we need to find somewhere to sleep for the night soon."

"My head hurts from casting spells all day, I think we should try to avoid fighting until we've rested. Is there an inn nearby?"

After you've discussed it in character, either wait for your game master to ask whether you're taking a break, or tell them outright. You should always confirm that you're on the same page, but just a bit of in-character buildup is something I personally really appreciate. It also adds to the feeling that your characters are real people experiencing exhaustion, not just (video) game people.

Healing/Hit Point Loss

You can't see hit points! They're an arbitration for us as players to keep track of how well a character is doing physically, but asking in the middle of combat "who's low on hit points?" when that is not something the characters know what is kinda wrecks it for me. Instead, consider:

"I saw [character] was struck earlier, how badly hurt do they look?"

"You see how blood is pouring from a deep cut in my arm, it looks really painful."

"[Character] is a little woozy from the blow to the head he just suffered, but he'll be fine."

"I want to spend some time examining the burns [other character] suffered during our last fight - how bad is it?"

Basically, treat your player characters' hitpoints the same you do the hitpoints of an enemy: With zero idea of what the actual number is.

Melee Combat

Not gonna lie, unless you are into martial arts and such, you probably run out of ways to describe "I hit the monster with my sword/fist" fast. However, just going "I roll to hit; that's [x] points of damage" again gives that very video game-y feel that I think should really be avoided as much as possible when you sit with a TTRPG. Try one of these on occasion to shake things up:

"I take a running leap and bring my axe down hard on its arm!"

"With my legs around her throat, I slam my elbow into her face!"

"I do a series of somersaults toward the mafia don and try to kick him right in the gut!"

Just because you can't cast spells doesn't mean you can't pull some theatrical moves!

Ranged Combat

A lot of what I said about melee combat above also applies to ranged combat, I feel - and can be solved similarly.

"I point my gun and aim for the tiny gap in their visor."

"Nocking one of my enchanted arrows, I shoot at their feet and try to ignite the ground around them."

"I aim for the rope holding the chandelier in an attempt to shoot it down."

"Bracing for the recoil, I aim my rifle at the hand she has her sword in, and pull the trigger."

Maybe look up some videos of people using the weapon(s) your character uses to get a feel for how to describe the movements involved? It's certainly something I need to do more!

Spellcasting

Spellcasting is a special beast, not only good for combat but also in many utility situations. And there are a lot of ways to talk about it without referring to spell slots or class spell lists. Here are some:

"Can you cast [spell] today?" "No, I'd have to meditate on it/consult some books first."

"I bring out my magical orb, and you see how it starts to spin rapidly over my hand until it's just a blur, and I cast [spell]."

"I'm sorry, that sort of thing is beyond my capabilities. We should try to find a powerful wizard, they might know how to do that."

"Five lightning bolts shoot from each of my fingertips, right at the enemy!"

Take advantage of the spell descriptions that come with the spell to explain what it looks like when you use the various components, and when the spell takes effect - and maybe also what happens when it fizzles out for whatever reason.

If you're not super comfortable with roleplaying, but want to try doing it more, I hope you take this as positive encouragement and as an example that it doesn't have to be all that hard or elaborate all the time to increase your feelings of being immersed in the game. We can do this!

Disclaimer: 95% of my experience with TTRPGs are in fantasy settings. I'm sure someone else has much better examples of roleplaying for Sci-Fi and other genres. Please do add to this post if you have any thoughts!