#I want to punt her but also want to gently hold her and tell her tf is wrong with you? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gretagerwigsmuse · 1 year ago

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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.

“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!

#bradley fic

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midnightstar-90 · 3 years ago

Text

Live Laugh Love~ Georgie Cooper x Reader

A Solar Calculator, a Game Ball, and a Cheerleader's Bosom

Summary: Sheldon helps his father coach the football team.

The Cooper family was getting ready for the football game. Even though Y/N was a cheerleader for her school's football team, football was never her thing. Like Sheldon, during the football games, Y/N would do something other than watch the game. She knew the Coopers had a problem with it, but they can't force her to watch the game.

"Hey, imma head out," Y/N said, getting ready to go to the library. Football games were the best way to get all your schoolwork done and read a few comics. "Okay, don't be out too late," Mary said.

Georgie runs into the living room. "Was that Y/N?" Georgie asked urgently. "You know that girl is never here during game day. She's heading to the library. Do you want to go with her," Mary asked her son, hoping that he would say yes. "In your dreams. I just need to talk to her."

All the hope Mary built up a second ago disappeared. "She just left," she told the boy. The boy ran outside, hoping she was still there. Georgie caught Y/N at the end of the sidewalk. Georgie called out Y/N's name 3 times before she turned around.

"Georgie, you want to go to the library? Over football?" Georgie just gave his friend a come-on look. Y/N giggled, "So, what do ya need?" "Why don't you ever stay for the games? If you wanted to, you could finish all your work at the house." I made at his question.

"I can't do 'game day' Coopers. To be honest, no matter how long I stay here, I can't deal with the yelling, Meemaw's gambling habit, or your constant after-game chatter. Also, I just don't like football," Y/N says with a sad look.

"How can you not like football? You cheer for the school's football team." Georgie asked, giving Y/N a confused look.

I check my watch and see it is almost 7 pm, "I have to get to the library. Let's talk later, okay." I start to run to the library, leaving Georgie still confused.

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Y/N's POV

I got home from the library, and I immediately went to my room. I ran right past Georgie on the couch. I knew Georgie would follow me to my room.

I walk into my room. The first thing I see is my cheer uniform. "Why?" I hear someone say, and I turn around and see Georgie. "Why do you wear that uniform if you don't support it?" I roll my eyes.

"Have you ever held a conversation with a cheerleader? They know nothing about football. I didn't join cheerleading because of football. I am a cheerleader because I support you. I didn't want to do cheer just so you know. But, I did it to support you, and what you love." I say, honestly.

I put my uniform back on my closet door. "Well, that mystery is solved. Wanna hear about the ga-" I think Georgie remembered that I don't like Georgie's 'after-game' rants.

"Georgie, I love you, but football is not something we have in common," I say, resting my hand on his shoulder.

Georgie didn't know what to say, so he went to his room.

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George said he couldn't fit me in the truck because he was taking Sheldon. That made me suspicious. George never took Sheldon to school. Anyways, Mary said she would take me.

I sat in the car with Missy and Mary. "Y/N, how was the library?" Mary asked, making me look up from my book. "It was quiet. I found a new comic series to read," I say. "Well, that's great. Maybe you can find more at the comic store."

"How come you and dad give her money every week, for a book with pictures, but I can't get a new doll?" Missy asks. "Y/N is reading, and she is finding ways to get out of the house," Mary told her daughter.

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Georgie's POV

It's game day, and I'm on the field. It's time to punt. The quarterback comes over to the team's huddle and tells us that my dad said to go for it.

First, my best friend tells me that she's not into football. Then, Sheldon comes and takes the only thing I like that he doesn't.

I look over at Y/N, and she looks happy, but her eyes say otherwise. I may not be the smartest, but I know when my friend is sad. There is more to the 'I don't like football' story.

We ended up winning the game. Why did it have to be because of Sheldon, though? I should be more worried about Y/N.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N and I are hanging out in my room. She looks sad. I sat next to her on the bed. She had a jacket in her hands.

I decide to ask, "Hey, what do you have there?" She doesn't look up or talk back. I gently take the jacket, and she lets me. I've seen this jacket before. I know because I have the same one.

"Y/N, whose jacket is this. You know you can wear mine," I barely whisper. She's still looking down.

"He stood me up," I finally got a response. "Who used you?" "Ian Lynch. He told me we were in a secret relationship."

"Is that why you go to the library every Wednesday and game day." She shacks her head and says, "no, not completely. I was really going to the library on game days. I wasn't lying. On Wednesdays, he takes me to a restaurant on the other side of town."

Ian is one of my teammates. He is known for standing girls up when he finds a new one. This made me so mad. She doesn't deserve him.

"Here," I give her my jacket and continue, "Don't wear his jacket, wear mine. I'll give it back for you." She nods and puts my jacket on.

I needed a reason to get close to Ian, without others around.

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Y/N's POV

'Why is everyone cheering for Sheldon? Did I miss something?' I thought walking to class. Before I got there I see Shelby put Sheldon's face in her bosom.

I run up to Shelby and Sheldon, and I pull him away from her. I glare at Shelby as I shield Sheldon from the crowd. I take him to the library and make my way to class.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am trying to study, and all I hear is rock music blasting through my wall. I walk over to Georgie's room, knowing something is wrong. Before I get there I hear Mary yelling at Georgie, for every little thing.

Mary walks out angry, with not one word to me. "Grounded, huh? You know you put a lot of energy into making sure I'm okay, but what about you?" I ask, entering the messy room.

"huh," Georgie responds. "You're not okay," I say cocking my eyebrow.

"It's just... You are my best friend, but it feels like we have nothing in common. You have been holding information back from me. Also, Sheldon says one smart thing, and all the attention goes to him. My dad is even hanging out with him," Georgie rants.

I look down and then look right back up. "Well, I think that us not liking the same things is what makes us best friends. We may not like what the other likes, but we still support each other. As for the keeping information, I didn't tell you because he is your teammate. I didn't want you to lose a game because yall are fighting."

Georgie takes in the information. Georgie opens his arms for me to cuddle with him. I shake my head and say, "No, your mom was right. This room is a pigsty."

Georgie gives me an offended look, before shooing me away. I just walk out of the room like nothing happened.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I didn't go to the party, but I heard that Ian got a black eye at the party. I wonder who could have done that.

When Sheldon told me that he got a B+, I didn't understand. Sheldon is a straight A++ student.

He explained to me how it happened. I can't believe everyone would use him like that. We were in the library, plotting what to do about Sheldon.

"What are you good at, other than being smart," I ask, trying to come up with a way to help. "I'm good at tattling," the boy says, with enthusiasm in his voice. "Then that is what your gonna do. If you rat them out, they won't trust you again. There is only one person you can tell that A. isn't using you and B. is ruthless when it comes to using you," I explain.

Sheldon's face grows a large smile. "Mom. She is my go-to when I need someone yelled at. Thanks for doing business with me," the boy holds his hand out. I shake his hand and he runs out.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I watch Georgie and George leave out of the house. Before they leave, I see Georgie's smile. I knew it was Georgie that punched Ian at the party.

10 minutes before

"Mary, could you not punish Georgie as much?" Mary looks at me and asks why. "Georgie going to that party was not his fault. You remember Ian," She nods and continues the dishes, "Well he stood me up, so I told Georgie. He was just protecting me."

She looks at me, and she sees I'm not lying. "George!" George walks into the kitchen. "You can take Georgie if you want, but he is still grounded."

George runs to get Georgie. I run up to Mary, and I give her a big hug. "Thank you. Thank you for everything. You and your family are the best things to happen to me," I say remembering all of our good times. Mary looks down, and she hugs me back.

I love my family.

#Sheldon Cooper #missy cooper #Georgie Cooper #Mary Cooper #George Cooper #Meemaw #Connie Tucker #big bang theory #young sheldon #x reader #fanfic #Georgie Cooper x reader

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years ago

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding XXIII

Part I - - - - - - - - - Part XX - - - - Part XXI - - - - Part XXII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

The office was quiet but for the occasional shuffling of flimsi and tapping of datapads.

Bail Organa and Mon Mothma pointedly did not exchange a glance behind Padme’s back.

Senator Mothma set down her pad and broke the silence. “Padme...are you alright?” she asked softly.

“I’m fine Mon, let’s just go over the bill,” Padme responded stiffly.

Mothma hesitated. “That’s not the only reason I asked you here, Padme.”

Padme stood, chair scraping gratingly. “I see; I’ve already had the Chancellor pry me today in an attempt to exploit my ‘connections’ to the Jedi—as though they’re droids and not flesh-and-blood people who any average person could strike a friendship with—but I had thought better of you two; I suppose my faith was—”

“That’s not what I meant—” Mon pleaded.

“We’re concerned about you,” Bail insisted gently. “You don’t have to tell us anything about the Jedi that you don’t feel comfortable doing so.”

Padme paused, then reluctantly sat back down.

“My apologies,” she muttured. “It’s been...a long day. I’ve been asked by the Chancellor for help in breaking some news that...I’d rather not.”

The senators waited patiently for Padme to collect her thoughts. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “General Kenobi has suffered from...force...I really don’t think there’s a way of saying this that doesn’t sound bad.”

“I had heard rumors that he was missing at meetings the last few days...has something serious happened?” Bail asked, concerned.

Padme shuddered. “This office is...”

“It’s clean,” Mothma confirmed quietly. “I have it checked independently anytime I’m gone for more then 15 minutes, with random deep-scans.”

“Would you mind...”

Mon nodded and the three waited in silence until the Chandurllian senator’s pad trilled the all-clear.

“Master Kenobi tried to kill himself earlier this week,” Padme confessed lowly. Mon straightened up in a sudden locking of knees and elbows, face drawn into tight lines. Bail’s hands flew to his mouth, tears forming.

“Knight Skywalker got to him in time, and he was in a coma until this morning when he apparently ‘ranted about ending the one’s responsible for the war’ and then vanished, along with Anakin.”

Mon grew very pale and Bail moved both hands from his mouth to his eyes.

“Fuck,” he said softly. “Just...fuck.”

Padme nodded in agreement and Mon inhaled deeply.

Bail rubbed way tears and straightened up resolutely. “How can we help?” he asked Padme. “How does the Chancellor want to handle releasing the news?”

She smiled weakly. “He’s leaving the exact wording up to me, but wants to make the announcement during the next full Senate gathering.”

“What!” Mon half-shouted, shocked. “There’ll be a riot! Surely a bulletin—even a press conference would be better for encouraging a moderate reaction—people will be shouting before he’s through the first sentence!”

“I know,” Padme agreed with a grimace. “But he wants ‘transparency.’“

“He wants panic,” Bail fumed.

“I’m trying to decide if it would better or worse to include the part about suicide,” Padme said bitterly. “Mental health breakdown and disappearance of the Republic’s highest General doesn’t leave much room for confidence or privacy.”

Mon clutched Padme’s hand in support. “I’ll have a PR team on standby. We can prepare resources for anyone who has questions, avoid conspiracy theories from spinning out. I already had a project on the backburner to put together own set of holoclips of the Jedi working towards peace—a counter to the ‘warmongering’ narrative, so to speak. It should be easy enough to adapt.”

“The Chancellor’s going to turn this into another military spending bill,” Bail predicted grimly. “We’ll make sure there’s a proviso in there to provide actual support for the Jedi in the field; I’ll make sure to get a legal team on viper in the grass duty as soon as the responses start coming out.”

“Thank you,” Padme said, gripping Mon’s hand over-tightly in return. She turned to the Alderannian senator. “I’m sorry Bail, I know you two are close.”

Bail exhaled slowly. “This war...I’ve seen Obi-Wan survive so much, and everytime he pulls off the impossible...”

“He’s rewarded with another burden on his shoulders,” Padme finished sympathetically. “Yes, I’ve been watching the same thing happen to Anakin. It’s—if the separatist movement hadn’t resolved into such a democratic and humanitarian nightmare—”

“You should go home and get some rest, Padme,” Mon urged. “It’s late, and the we’re all going to need to be sharp tomorrow. Who knows, maybe some new information will materialize before the afternoon.”

“Why Mon, that’s almost optimistic of you,” Bail remarked dryly.

Mon flashed him a wry grin, looking at Padme out of the corner of her eye. “Well. She did say Anakin with AWOL—”

“Oh do be quiet,” Padme huffed.

Despite the ever growing desire for sleep, it was another long hour before the Senator from Naboo departed. The pair were just turning to their seats after escorting Padme out when Bail let out a startled yelp; Mon instinctively kicked at the sudden small green blur.

Fortunately, when you’re green and the height of most humanoid’s knees, you become quite experienced at avoiding such reflexive

“Master Yoda! What are you doing here? How did you even get in?” Senator Mothma staggered backwards, reverting to defensiveness to cover up her embarrassment at attempting to punt the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order.

“Has his ways, a Jedi does,” Yoda replied mysteriously. Mon Mothma nodded seriously as Bail restrained himself from rolling his eyes. He had spent far too much time around Obi-Wan for deliberate Jedi vagueness to hold much weight.

“Can I—May I offer you a seat?” Mon asked, quickly recovering her diplomatic grace. “I’m afraid that you’ve just missed Senator Amidala, but I’m sure she would be eager to return; I understand she’s...concerned for Master Kenobi.”

The wizened Master shook his head, ears flopping as he hopped onto Padme’s recently vacated chair, standing on the cusioned seat as the two senators’ settled down. The sight should, perhaps, have been comical. But the weight of his gaze...Bail held his breath. Perhaps Jedi mystique did still have some affect on him.

“Come to speak with the two of you, I did. Missed Mistress Amidala, I have, I know. Deliberate, this was.”

Mon and Bail frowned, exchanging a slow look of pointed disapproval. Bail spoke hesitantly but with touch of reproach. “I’m certain she would prefer to be here, regardless of the news—Padme has suffered for her public defense of the Jedi, I should hope that that friendship is returned, especially in hard times”

Yoda’s ears drooped. “A great Jedi, she would have made, in another life. Vibrant, she is in the Force. Loud to a Jedi, regardless of sensitivity. But needed now, quiet is.”

Yoda’s gaze pierced Bail and he warmed inexplicably. “Quiet the two of you are. Brilliant, wide but in the Force...” Yoda broke the gaze, growing contemplative.

“Unique in the force, each soul is. That can be read, rare is the mind. More difficult to discern, currents, intentions, manner, it is with some, it is with you. And now, Quiet we need.”

The two settled back, uneasily flattered. “Master Yoda—it’s an honor of course, to be considered an individual worthy of confidence, but why exactly do you have need of quiet minds? Of us?” Senator Mothma asked finally.

The diminutive Master sagged. “By actions you would do, trust you have earned. But always in motion, the future is. A heavy burden, to carry, I must ask you. Without cause, I would not ask. But once tell you this I do—”

To the politicians shock Master Yoda’s simmed to glisten with unshed tears. “—Guarantee your safety I cannot.”

The air hung warm and heavy for a timeless moment and a chill ran up both their spines. But neither were individuals particularly given to indesicion in the face of looming danger.

“How can we help?” Mon asked, the words echoing over far more than an hour.

“We know something is wrong with Obi-Wan,” Bail added softly. “Whatever we can do to right it—Obi-Wan is a friend, the Jedi are our allies, and the Republic is our duty.”

Mon nodded firmly.

Yoda stared at them each in turn, eyes searching and ancient.

“Working with the Separatists, the Chancellor is,” he said bluntly. “Evidence of this, we have, but not proof. Controlling, the Separatists, the Chancellor is. Evidence of this we have also, but not proof. The truth it is.”

“Evidence?” Bail parroted hoarsely, mentally assembling his own grim circumstantial coronation even as his understanding of the conversation’s direction fell apart.

The Jedi Master drew two small glittering objects from his pocket—a datachip and a microslide.

“In the brain of a trooper, this we found.” he said gravely. “In the brain of all clones, this lies. Orders, it contains. Evil, is it. Free will, it can control. Decode it we have. To the Chancellor, tied these orders are.”

“Force,” Mon murmured in horror, responding automatically. “He already controls the public, and the courts—”

“And over half the senate,” Bail added bitterly.

“A Sith, he is,” Yoda continued with a sigh. “A Sith he has always been. A return to an Empire, he aims.”

There was a long heady pause as the two grappled with the return of the ancient boogeyman of the Republic and the repeated derailing of their night’s direction.

“Fuck,” Senator Mothma said delicately, thinking wistfully of two hours ago when she had planned on confronting Padme yet again on her relationship with a young Jedi.

“Said the same, did we.”

The Alderannian Senator rubbed his temples, trying to come to terms with consecutive massive shocks from the already unexpected conversation. “Is Obi-Wan alright?” he asked eventually.

The small Elder hummed thoughtfully in reply. Bail tensed.

“No and yes. Suffer much, he has. Broken he is, but not shattered. A plan he has. His idea to include you, it is. The bravest man in the galaxy, he called you.” Yoda said, offering Senator Organa a sad smile.

Bail leaned back, stunned. “Me? But—why me?” he asked bewildered.

“Know not, I do,” the Jedi said with a shrug. “Seen the future, he has. A future where saved his life, you did. Saved my life. Saved something too precious to name, you did. Matters little, it does. A future that must not come to pass, it is, even as learn from it. we do.”

“...I think you’re going to have to explain that somewhat,” Mon replied sternly as Bail’s head spun.

Yoda nodded and the three settled in for a sleepless night of planning treason.

Part XXIV

#star wars #my au #star wars au no 27 #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au

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sanguine-tenshi · 3 years ago

Text

I just finished Inazuma and I have words

TL;DR: Hate the story, mixed on characters, love the design and tired of being treated like a 4-year-old with a learning disability.

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

Let’s start with what I like.

Inazuma is absolutely beautiful. I’ll admit Inazuma hits a lot of aesthetic points for me. All the islands are different enough to feel unique but they still look like they are a part of the same land. There are a lot of secrets to discover through just exploring. Each island has a world quest to help it (make it less hostile towards you) so it very much feels like you are saving Inazuma from itself.

The puzzles are alright.

I like the cubes that rotate, I always put in the effort to figure them out properly.

Hate the ones that don’t rotate, they just aren’t engaging enough for me, so I just hit them at random and hope for the best.

The glowing floor tiles were fun, once you actually realized what they wanted you to do. A little bit too easy if I’m honest.

The electro compass isn’t really much of a puzzle, more of a fetch the nearest electrograna quest.

Those little pillars that require an electro connection are kinda boring to me, again not much of a puzzle, the hardest part is finding both pillars.

I love the new electro seelie, kinda hard to follow the jittery thing in certain parts but they make a nice contrast to the regular seelies.

I’m very much mixed on characters.

Yoimiya is adorable. She is so bright and bubbly. What little game play we had with her was fun and I love her over the top style of fighting. Kinda disappointed she’s another pyro archer but I do admit it fits her character well. It was also wonderful seeing her just settle down and be quiet, just be a part of that moment that obviously meant a lot to her. It’s always nice to see that bubbly, energetic character have that one quiet thing, ya know. Kinda funny it’s fireworks, of all things, for her.

Gorou I like, from what little we’ve seen of him. My man killed a dude with his thighs so I’m down. I do find it kinda ridiculous that a resistance general has his whole damn belly exposed. There is also something about his voice that just does not fit. I cannot for the life of me put my finger on what exactly it is. Could be the tone itself, could be just voice acting. It sort of feels like the VA is trying to sound deeper than he actually does.

Sangonomiya Kokomi, mixed. I like her design, she looks like some sort of mystical priestess. Again something about the voice is jarring. I expected her to sound sort of airy, like she isn’t 100% present, like she’s seeing something we can’t. TBH she reminds me of Luna from HP for some reason.

Yae Miko, I was interested because of her design. She sounds very arrogant and up her own ass, which would have been fine...if she hadn’t given us that god-awful line. “...I have high hopes for you, child. Don’t disappoint me.” Dear lord I wanted to punt her off the mountain. Or fucking what! Also she’s some bigshot priestess of the Sacred Sakura and yet she can’t do her damn job properly. Why couldn’t her arrogant ass come down from her high perch and cleanse the stupid roots? Why did the traveler have to do that shit?

Baal looks dead inside. Booba sword is overrated, get a life. I want a remach! And no cutscene shenanigans this time!

Kujou Sara seems like one of those ‘honor above all else’ characters. Those are either hit or miss with me. You have my attention for now. Also what are those shoes woman?! I’d rather you wear those leg-killing, needle point stilettoes instead of those Wish gag shoes. How in the name of all that is holy can you run in those?!

Thoma, I like him. At first I thought we were gonna get another Childe incident, but Thoma is too much of a innocent puppy to pull anything that horrible. To me he fits a fox a lot better than Childe does. Childe is a dingo and I stand behind that.

Kamisato Ayaka...hate her. At first I was neutral on her. Nothing about her design really spoke to me, but I was willing to wait and see. But then miHoYo started to violently push her friendship at us. We are totally friends now, this is the first time you see my face, but we are so totally friends now. And during her story quest everyone was like “Ah, you are so good Ayaka. You are so nice Ayaka. You are so perfect Ayaka. We all love you so much Ayaka. And oh, how could a mere merchant like myself...” Ew, go away. This is the first time I’m actively not pulling on a character banner. Normally I pull even if I’m not particularly interested in a character, because you never know how good their gameplay is until you take them out in the map. But I think I’ll be skipping this one. No thanks.

And now, the worst part, the story.

We’ve been hearing about the situation in Inazuma for a long time. There has been also a lot of talk about how hard it is to get there. About the wall of thunderclouds that surround the islands. So to have it cut to black and then voila Inazuma, feel just so cheap.

I was expecting something. An animation. A struggle. A quest. A minigame. At least show us the horrible weather! Something! Anything!

Hell if they wanted to be assholes about it they could have made it so that if the player fails at this point the ship is damaged, you return to Liyue and have to wait until tomorrow for the ship to be repaired. No Inazuma for today. That sure as hell would have raised the stakes.

The next complaint I have is with Yurika, the 2 milion mora processing fee girl. Later on Thoma mentions that the agency people see the fees as easy money, so her attitude doesn’t make much sense. After all someone like her would want to extract as much money as she can, but you still want the people to be able to pay that.

So it would make more sense to me if she was overly friendly and asked way too many questions. She’d need to get a much information as she can and after all the previous hostility people would be very open with her. So she’d be able to quickly find out why someone is here, what they are selling and roughly how much money they’d be able to pay. A merchant selling expensive silk would have more many than a regular ore merchant. So she’d be able to extract as much money as she could.

“I know this is a lot of money, especially for something so simple, but there is nothing I can do about it. I’m so very sorry.” And people wouldn’t say anything bad to her because she’s the first friendly face they see in Inazuma.

The stealth mission was just god-awful and I hope we never have to do that nonsense again.

Getting off of Ritou was a bit janky at the end, Chisato should have had a better reason for coming along. But I’m honestly just glad we didn’t get out the usual way...getting stuffed in a crate and smuggled out.

As a side note, I’m getting really tired of characters overexplaining things to me, especially Paimon. Dear lord, not everything has to be said, you can leave me to come to my own conclusions and solutions. Just please, who cares if a few player struggle for a bit, you don’t have to hold my hand through the whole thing.

Ayaka’s three were...ugh. It was basic emotional manipulation. Oh no this guy forgot about the love of his life and he’s been waiting for decades. And oh how sad this guy was so good and he helped these people so much but now he can’t remember. And oh the tragedy this guy forgot his life goal and is now hunted by the demons of the past. Oh the humanity!

And it did not work. Know why? Because I have no emotional investment in any of these people, in this land. What is happening to the vision bearers in Inazuma is tragic, true, but that doesn’t make me want to overthrow the government. I don’t live here. I just got here. I wanna ask a question or two and then move on. None of this concerns me.

I was so happy when the traveler just flat out refused to start a revolution. And then we had to go and meet some people and immediately I knew this was going to be some oh noes the tragedy moments and then we would agree to help them.

It’s so forced.

Wanna know what would have been better?

Just as we are leaving the Kamisato estate Thoma catches up with us. And he tells us he gets it. We are an outsider and this doesn’t concern us. He was hopeful but he expected the denial. We shouldn’t hold it against Ayaka.

He joins us as a guide because he knows of the people we have to meet.

And so as we help these three we also get to know Thoma. We find out he was an outsider too. He got in just before the worst of it started and then he was stuck in Inazuma. He lost someone to the Vision Hunt. They slowly lost their mind after loosing their vision, their ambition too closely tied to their personality to continue without it (what is happening to Domon hits a little too close to home and he has to walk away, this is where we hear the story of the one he lost). And the same would have happened to him if the Kamisatos hadn't taken him in. He owes them his vision, his sanity and his life.

So this rebellion is personal for him.

At the end of the three wishes the atmosphere is somber. We tell him we understand why Ayaka fights, why he fights. We know that this is all wrong, that it should be stopped...but not by us. We came here to get a lead on our brother. And rebellion isn’t an overnight affaire and we can’t loose so much time in Inazuma.

And yeah, he expected as much. He just asks that we let Ayaka down gently. It’d be a shame if someone as idealistic and hopeful as her lost their spark.

And so we are gentle but firm with Ayaka. She looks like she wants to argue with us but Thoma shakes his head at her. So she sighs and tells us that a promise is a promise. We should come to the Komore Teahouse in a few days and she’ll have a plan for us to meet with the Shogun.

Now we can still have a character story quest with Yoimiya and we can still somehow get involved with helping Master Masakatsu, but it’s through Yoimiya instead of Ayaka.

And instead of a character story quest with Ayaka we have one with Thoma. Hell, give him a whole damn hangout event even.

You can probably guess why I’m pushing the friendship with Thoma so much.

Because. He. Gets. Kidnapped. For. The. 100th. Vision. Ceremony.

And that would have been the perfect emotional in to get us involved in the rebellion. After all we just saw what happens to people who have their visions taken away and we are not letting that happen to Thoma, someone we just got close to.

So Baal makes it personal for us as well.

I have a few more minor complaints.

Aoi is stupid for asking for compensation after she tells us everything we needed to know because, ya know, we could have just walked away. We should have.

The whole stupid misunderstanding about the value Kurosawa’s sword holds. Kinda obvious he meant emotional value instead of monetary.

The suspicious amount of visionless NPCs and by that I mean this is the first time we have NPCs with vision. This wouldn’t have been a problem if we’ve seen NPCs with visions in Mond and Liyue.

The whole rebellion camp bit feels incredibly rushed. We just sort of lollygag over there and then there is a fight (against Sara and her stupid shoes).

Don’t make us fight Baal just to force us to lose. It would have been better if we were forced to retreat, because Thoma was injured, because there are too many soldiers for us to handle on our own. Hell, you can have a funny scene where we straight up jump off a cliff with Thoma clinging onto us and screaming bloody murder until he realizes we are slowly gliding away and he’s not about to plummet to his death.

The Sakura cleansing quest should have been voice acted.

The Mirror Maiden and Pyro Agent are totally on a date, I will not be told otherwise.

#genshin impact #inazuma #genshin inazuma #genshin 2.0 #Thoughts #opinion #yoimiya #gorou #sangonomiya kokomi #yae miko #baal #kujou sara #thoma #kamisato ayaka

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radiance1 · 2 years ago

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Ambesh to Zhouei: oooOOOOK lets not ah, dwell on that shall we? So uh, it's cool that ur a lesbian, who's the luckily lady? It's also cool if you don't have one yet.

Ambesh to Xianzhi: Heh. I wouldn't die kid, more like. An eternal prison-well, more than this mirror is anyway. WHy would you even want to be my friend anyway, I could try and kill you after I get out of this-if I so wished.

Ambesh to Zheng Delun: Hmm, yea I'm fine. forcingly overpowering that mirror with the magic I had at my disposal while being drained would put a strain on anyone. Also, the fact that I'm still getting used to having a physical body again, I should be fine in a day or two. Ambesh is secretly enjoying the body heat of another person again

Ambesh to Zhouei/Xianzhi: The kitsune takes a deep (not needed) breath and does the one thing he can do, he proceeds to- OI WHOEVER THE FUCK PUT ME UP HERE, YOU BETTER FUCKING COME OUT RIGHT NOW.

Ambesh to Li Tian Shi: Ambesh disregards the fact that Wukong is still holding onto him as he enjoys free physical affection

Ambesh to Kinkajou: He's prepared to throw them back out the mirror if they ever somehow manage to get in it again You are very punt able by the way

Ambesh to hunting Kinkajou: The mirror falls to the ground, the kitsune bound within letting out a surprised chirp, before a groan makes it way out Great, now I can't see anything. Wonderful. Wouldn't suppose ya would pick me up, would ya?

Ambesh to Ao Yueliang: Well, back when me, me older brother and other brother were teeny tiny kits we used to just. Smack each other round and round till an adult came to stop us. Might not suggest it since yea too old but eh, could also just, smack the shit outta each other too.

Ambesh to Li Mihou:.... You tricked me. You said you would help me. You.TRICKED.ME!

The kitsune begins to glow a bright white as he slammed his paws on the glass as if he could suddenly force his way out.

WHEN I GET OUTTA HERE I WILL-ACK

Before the Kitsune could finish, the mirror glows as chains materialize from the darkness. The kitsune struggles as more and more chains bind him, draining his magic as his glow fades back to his original snow-white fur. The kitsune sits in the mirror as he's bound and drained, ears lowered

I hate you.

The mirror turns pitch black, Ambesh no longer wishes to speak with you

Ambesh to the spider oc: Ah! Welcome back, just doing my favorite activity of staring at a wall! What do you have there?

The king gently presses his face into the hand still holding onto his face-eyes closed, as if digesting and considering the information the servants, The Left Hand and Mariana await his decision.

A few minutes pass by as the king still hasn't opened his eyes. The Left Hand moves to go check on his king but stops as a soft purring starts emitting from the king.

The Left hand quickly gives the servants a look that tells them to leave, as he swiftly-but gently, removes Mariana's hand from the king and picks him up and cradles him to his chest. Shifting a few times to put the king in a more comfortable position. The Left Hand turns to Mariana

As thou can see, the king has fallen asleep. The audience will resume when he wakes up

The Left Hand goes to move past Mariana but stops. The kitsune looks at Mariana with his previously piercing eyes turning softer

Thank thou. For doing what thou did, thou didn't have to-but thou did. This one is... thankful.

The Left Hand walks past Mariana, but not before 'accidently' brushing her with one of his tails. The Left Hand looks back once more

A servant will come by and lead thou and thou guards to thou rooms-if thou so wishes. And... take that as thanks.

The Left Hand disappears.

Mariana taps the area where the tail brushed against her and finds another charm.

The Left Hand's crest. A sign of respect, second only to the crest from the king himself. Allowing the one who possesses it come and go as they please within the palace and anywhere the Left hand claims as his within the kitsune kingdom. The crest also possesses a dangerous air, holding it yourself, you feel stronger. It seems the crest also makes you stronger

The Left Hand doesn't seem like he would take it back if it's brought up.

@sun-wukong-brain-rot @lulu-nightbon

Tell me what you oc's (or au's) would do if they found the Mirror sealing Ambesh.

I'll think of his reaction of him being scared for his life, annoyed, or screaming profanities.

Based on what you show you me.

#Look at them #Giving Mariana their crests for what is basically nothing #Seems like overcompensating runs in the family

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assassins-and-hidden-blades · 4 years ago

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Miracles -- Part 3

07/04/2021: Here it is!! The one, the only, the... 6.1k words of purely self indulgent protective!Jacob (lowkey been doing it for everyone and their mother except for when with the reader and idk why bc i dig that shit too)

I really hope you guys enjoy this, because I loved writing it!! There's a chance I could sneak in a last chapter if people wanted that? Feedback would be greatly appreciated!! This is super long, so sit down and get comfy :)

Pry these commas from my cold, dead hands tho. Also, I HC Jacob to be predominantly left-handed, but that's just me aha.

Warnings: Bit of violence, swearing, corporal punishment, arson (without giving too much away)

Tagging: @marshmallow--3 // @missingfrye // @ct-5445 // @iceboundstar // @rahdaleigh // @pink-polarfox // @b3k1720 // @itseivwhore // @sofiewithat // @missbenzayb

Assassin's Creed Mobile Masterlist

Red Dead Redemption 2 Mobile Masterlist

Part 1 HERE, Part 2 HERE

The night was cold.

You retreated further under the blankets, turning to rest your head on your beloved’s chest. You wore an oversized shirt, and he wore a loose pair of breeches. His arm pulled you closer, fingers stroking your bicep. In turn, you traced the Rook painted on his chest. “Jacob?”

He turned to gaze down at you, lips inches from your forehead. “Yes, my love?”

“My family have written to me; they would like me to visit them in Warwick.”

“Your family lives quite far,” Jacob remarked, smiling adoringly at you. “Will you and Lily be alright travelling by yourselves?”

You sighed. “That’s the problem.” Sitting up, you gently grasped Jacob’s hand, playing with his fingers. “They don’t know that Lily exists, and I have no chance of telling them that I have a child without the status of ‘wife’.”

“I see…” Jacob watched you trace the lines on his hand. “Is there anything I can do?”

Propose, you idiot.

“Could you look after Lily while I’m away?”

“On my own?” His fingers tightened around yours.

“I trust you with her, Jacob. You’re the only one I can trust her with.”

He sucked in a breath. “Are you sure?”

“Stop doubting yourself.” You kissed his temple. “Besides, she adores you; she’ll listen to you.”

“Alright then. It’s decided.”

“Thank you, my love. However can I make it up to you?”

Sensing the humour in your tone, Jacob winked. “I can think of a few things.”

You laughed to yourself as you blew out your candle, the darkness enveloping the room as you pulled yourself closer to Jacob, the security of his arms lulling you to sleep.

----------

Before you knew it, you were packing a carriage with your luggage, setting off for the journey ahead. Jacob was standing in the doorway of your house, Lily resting on his hip. “Mama, do you have to go?”

“Sweetheart, if I don’t, then horrible Aunt Susan will come marching all the way down here herself, and we don’t want that, do we?” Lily shook her head, giggling.

“She’s not the only one who’s going to miss you.” Jacob wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. Smiling, he dipped his head to lock his lips with yours.

“Yuck!”

The both of you pulled apart, chuckling.

“Well, I best be going. Don’t get into any trouble; I know what you both are like unsupervised.”

Sharing mischievous looks, they began to wave as you got into the carriage.

“Bye, Mama!”

“Safe travels, my love!”

You watched as they recede from view, the picture of your perfect family playing in your mind as hooves against cobblestone played in your ears.

As soon as the carriage turned the corner, Jacob turned to Lily. “What do you fancy doing?”

Lily giggled. “I have school!”

Jacob mockingly rolled his eyes. “That is the worst answer I’ve ever heard.”

“Are you saying I can skip?”

As much as he’d want to say yes, you would have punted him six ways from Sunday. “‘fraid not, love.” He took her inside. “But I can promise that afterwards, I’ll take you to get iced cream.” Lily cheered in victory before she hopped down, scurrying to collect her things for the day ahead.

----------

Jacob walked Lily to school that morning, keeping her on his left and away from the curb. He grasped her hand firmly, lest she get lost in the rushing crowd. When he approached the building, he saw various parents saying goodbye to their children, as well as some children arriving on their own.

He knelt down to her height, tidying her windswept appearance with a reassuring grin. “You have a good day, alright?”

Smiling widely, she nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Papa.”

Wait, what?

Jacob’s breath caught in his throat. Lost for words, he kissed her head and returned the hug tenfold. “I love you, angel.”

“Love you too!”

The bell rang moments after, causing Lily to pull away. “Don’t be late!” Waving, she ran to catch up with her friends and disappeared into the building. Standing up, Jacob cleared his throat and tugged on his waistcoat to compose himself, though he could barely stifle his grin. The warmth in his heart engulfed his chest. He walked past the rest of the parents as if he were walking on clouds, his happiness fixed for the day.

----------

“What’s got you in such a good mood today?” Evie asked her brother, watching incredulously as she found him tidying his train carriage.

“Oh, nothing.” Although his tone was dismissive, his face told a completely different story.

“Did you… have a good night?”

“Oh, no.” Chuckling, he sifted through the papers on his desk. “Y/N’s headed to Warwick.”

Puzzled, Evie tilted her head. “Free beer?”

“Nope.” He popped the ‘P’.

“Come on, then; what is it? You can’t expect me to keep guessing forever.”

Restraining himself from jumping for joy, he turned to his sister. “Lily called me ‘Papa’.”

Evie’s face lit up. “Oh, Jacob, that’s lovely! Does this mean you’ll…” She mimicked opening a ring box.

Blushing, he nodded, a toothy grin plastered on his face. “I’m excited, Evie. I… I need to sit down.”

He leaned back on the sofa, tossing his hat beside him. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. “Are you alright?” Evie took a chair to sit opposite him.

“I… I’ve never felt this much joy in my life.”

“Jacob Frye, you’re practically speechless.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“You have to buy the rings before Y/N comes back.”

“I will. Maybe Lily will want to come with me. Not yet, though; I don’t want to spring the news on her immediately.”

Evie began to talk about the type of engagement ring you would find the most appealing, but Jacob had all but zoned out. He was fidgeting with the iron band on his right index finger, engraved on the inside with the Assassin’s Insignia. Barely thinking, he removed it and switched hands, sliding it on his ring finger.

He was going to get married. You were going to be his wife.

“What if she doesn’t say ‘yes’?” A sudden anxiety clutched his heart as he looked up in worry.

Evie was stunned into silence. “What are you talking about?! Of course she’s going to say yes!”

“She has a child to think about; what if she doesn’t want to get married at all?”

“Jacob,” she sighed. “She knows you’d do anything for Lily. You’ve done it right from the beginning.” He shifted in his seat as a phantom pain clutched his side, remembering his tussle with Thomas Lynch. “She would be insane not to want someone like you as a husband, and as a father to her child.”

“When did you learn to talk like that?” Jacob smirked.

“When you’re the eldest, you learn a thing or two.”

“Bullshit.” He scoffed, but wordlessly thanked her for the reassurance.

“Knock knock.” Eyes fixed on the doorway as Henry peered around the corner. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I need some papers from Jacob.”

“Right; which ones?” He stood up and closed the two meter gap to the pile of half sorted paperwork.

“The ones on James Brudenell.”

“Who?” He frowned.

“Lord Cardigan.”

“Oh, that prick…” He thumbed through the various files, quickly getting to the end with no sign of the desired intel. “I must’ve left it at the house. I’ll head off there now and bring them to you tomorrow.”

“Can you not come back straight away?”

“I need to get to the school; there won’t be enough time. I’m taking Lily out for that new iced cream.” Evie quirked her lips into a knowing smile. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” she shrugged.

Shaking his head, Jacob grabbed his hat and opened the door, watching the train slow into the station. “See you tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget the--”

“The papers, yes, I’ll get them!” By then, he had already jumped onto the platform, disappearing into the crowd.

----------

On the stroll back to the house, Jacob checked his pocket watch, planning his time accordingly. He’ll find the papers, finish the paperwork that should’ve been completed two weeks ago, and head to the school.

The street seemed unusually quiet at this time in the afternoon, but Jacob only grew concerned when he noticed a lack of Rooks. Usually, there would be more and more scattered around the closer he grew to the house, but so far he could count them all on one hand. A scuffling from behind him pricked at his ears. He spun, brows furrowed, but the road was empty, save for a carriage calmly trotting past. He used it as a reassurance that he was probably acting paranoid, and continued where he was heading, albeit at a faster pace.

The secure feeling he felt upon approaching the house eased the weight on his chest. Pulling out his key, he wasted no time in disappearing inside. It was quiet without you, and there was the familiar longing he felt in his heart. Sighing, he mentally crossed off another minute until he could hold you in his arms again.

He moved upstairs and into his study. At the prospect of spending more time with him, you jumped at the chance to make a spare empty room a working office. He hung his jacket and hat on a coat rack, taking a seat at the desk. The natural light coming through the window landed perfectly on the wood, illuminating the workspace without the need for candles. Jacob searched his drawers, finding the file with relative ease. He grabbed a dip pen, opened an ink pot, and quickly began scrawling details down.

He was lost in thought at the memory of his encounter with Lord Cardigan when a crude knocking hit the door downstairs. Jacob froze, focusing on the noise outside. All business was kept around the train; he sternly told Evie and Henry not to give out the address to anyone. The only other people who would have had an idea where he was were the Rooks stationed around the street, but they were loyal -- were they not as trustworthy as he thought? Who was at the door?

Harsher thuds against the door made his heart leap. He moved slowly; inch by inch, he stood and crept towards the door, pulling out the cane from his coat as quietly as he could. His boots barely made a sound as he headed down the stairs, hand calmly turning the knob to open the door.

On the other side stood two gentlemen, waiting almost expectantly. “Can I help you?” Jacob asked, tone laced with suspicion.

The two exchanged looks before one started to speak. “Pardon me, sir, but would you be interested in purchasing some humbugs? We’re opening a new shop not too far from here. We thought we could go from door to door to begin our business endeavours.”

Eyes flitting between the two, unease began to set in. “No, thank you.”

“Understood. Have a nice day.” The other tipped his hat and turned to leave as Jacob slowly shut the door again.

“What…?” He’s had bankers act more persuasive than these men. They did not seem that interested in sales. His eyes scanned the room, as if that would give him answers to a most peculiar interaction. In a second, his heart jumped as they landed on the clock. If he didn’t leave now, he’d be late to pick up Lily. He grabbed his coat and hat from upstairs and burst out of the door, rushing in the direction of the school.

----------

He made the journey by the skin of his teeth, jogging almost the entire way. As soon as he approached, the bell rang, and children began to flood out of the doors. He stood by a tree and scanned the children as they continued to rush out. A few moments later, Lily emerged, nervously clutching her hands together as she scanned the adults around her. Jacob frowned and walked towards her, concern growing. He could see the upset growing as she at first couldn’t see him. “Lily!”

As soon as she heard her name, her gaze immediately landed on the source and took off running towards him. He knelt just in time for her to jump into his arms, face hiding in his neck. “Hey, are you--” He was cut off by the sound of sobs. “Okay, alright, it’s alright, angel.” Confused, he picked her up and went to sit on a bench overlooking the playground, shushing her gently.

Cradled in one arm, Jacob used his free arm to reach into his pocket, bringing out his flask. “Take a drink, sweetheart.” She gingerly took the container, taking a few gulps of the fresh water inside. “Now, tell me what happened.” He tried to speak softly, to not provoke more tears.

“I didn’t do it! They think I did, but I didn’t!”

“What didn’t you do?”

“Throw a rock.”

“Even if you did do that, it’s only a rock.”

“It hit the teacher!”

Jacob was silent for a minute. If they thought she pelted a rock at the teacher, there would have been harsh punishments…

“Please believe me; I promise I didn’t do it!”

Shocked, Jacob pulled her closer. “Of course I believe you! Why wouldn’t I?” His eyes landed on her fists, which have barely opened since he saw her, save for the flask. “Can I see your hands?”

She nodded, and Jacob shifted her against his shoulder so he could use both hands as he slowly uncurled her fingers. Her palms were a stark red, the clear markings of a cane riddled her skin almost completely; and they looked like the instrument hit hard. He quietly asked for the other one, inspecting them with the care one would give to a newborn, brows furrowing at the sight. Lily watched his eyes moving constantly across her hands. The thought of letting her father down ushered tears to the surface. Jacob’s eyes caught hers watering. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, love. Do you know who really did it?”

Nodding slowly, she pointed to the playground to a boy who was laughing by a group of children who were playing with marbles. “Oliver.”

“Okay.” The two of them stayed there for a while as Lily continued to calm down.

Just as Lily began to smile at Jacob’s conversation, a shadow overcame the both of them. Jacob felt her recoiling into his side. He looked up to see a weathered looking man with a styled moustache and a stiff looking suit, a hand against the back of his head. “So, she’s yours.” The slight tone of disapproval channeled an urge of protectiveness inside him. He sat Lily behind him on the bench as he stood toe to toe with the teacher.

“Is there a problem?” Jacob’s eyes assessed the man from head to toe, noting the thin cane that he leaned on.

“You should be ashamed of your daughter’s behaviour.”

“Why? She did nothing wrong.”

“On the contrary…” Turning around, he removed the cloth on his head, revealing a jagged cut along the back of his head.

“It wasn’t me, sir! It really wasn’t!” Lily was begging for her teacher to believe her.

“Then who was it?”

Lily stood up on the bench still hiding behind Jacob’s shoulder but managing to equal his height. “Him.”

Her finger showed Oliver laughing at someone who had tripped over a skipping rope.

“Do you really think that she would do something like this?” Jacob raised an eyebrow.

Neither agreeing or disagreeing, he instead gestured with his cane. “I’m watching you, Y/L/N.” Jacob narrowed his eyes. “I would be mindful of your attitude towards my daughter.”

Grumbling, the teacher turned and walked away. “Oliver!”

“Th-Thank you.” A sniffling from behind him softed his face and melted his heart.

“Let’s go, angel. There’s some iced cream with our name on it.”` He hoisted Lily on his hip and headed in the direction of home, hoping that the anger would dissipate with each passing step.

----------

The house came into view shortly after Jacob left the sweet shop, two cardboard pots of the cold dessert in their hands. “This is delicious!” Lily was almost her normal self again over the journey home, relinquishing details of the day as they closed the short distance to the house. Placing Lily on the floor, he took out his key and pushed it into the lock, turning the knob. Without turning the key, the door opened. He must’ve forgotten to lock it when he left the house earlier. Brushing it off, he opened the door the rest of the way and stepped aside for Lily to enter first. He checked the rest of the street one more time for anything out of the ordinary before shutting and locking the door behind him, acting safe rather than sorry.

A slight smell filled his nose as he walked into the room. It was barely there, but he could smell something. Unfocusing his eyes, he watched as colours flooded his vision. Looking around, he couldn’t spot anything strange right away, but the smell was in the air and it set him on edge. Shaking his head, he rubbed his eyes. He had felt more emotion in one day than he had for a long time, and his body had worn him out. “Are you hungry, Lily?”

She sat at the kitchen table. “A little bit.”

“Anything you particularly fancy tonight?”

“Hmm… Sausages and potatoes!”

Jacob chuckled at her excitement. “Consider it done, my lady.”

----------

Dinner was over and done with by the time the sun set below the skyline. Jacob helped Lily get ready for bed before tucking her in. “When’s Mama coming home?” she asked, playing with Jacob’s hair.

“Hopefully in a few days; Warwick is surprisingly far, even by carriage.”

“Thank you. For believing me.”

Jacob smiled sombrely. “I will always believe you. That also reminds me…” He reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a small pot of salve. “May I?” Lily offered her hands, and Jacob gently rubbed the ointment over her raw skin.

“It’s cold.”

“It’s supposed to get rid of the pain. How do they feel?”

She nodded. “Good.”

As he returned the salve to the table, he took a breath, steeling himself to give either the best news or the worst news.

“How would you feel… if I asked your mother--”

“To marry you?!” Her eyes widened, her smile reaching her ears. “Yes!”

She jumped out of the covers to hug Jacob tightly. He reciprocated, closing his eyes to savour the moment. “Please ask her,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Giggles filled the air as he pulled the covers over her again.

“Thank you, for letting me in.”

“You make Mama happy. That’s all I want.”

Jacob sighed, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’re wise beyond your years.” He leant down to kiss her forehead. “Goodnight, angel.” He stood up and blew out the candle.

“Goodnight, Papa.” Lily didn’t miss the way Jacob’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, shutting the door quietly.

He poked his head into his study, sighing when he saw his half-finished paperwork that needed to be handed to Greenie the next morning. Every fibre in his being resisted, but he knew his procrastination would catch up to him eventually. So he sat down, lit a candle, and tried to wrap everything up in as little time as possible.

About half an hour went by before Jacob finished the long overdue paperwork. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he went downstairs to the spare room he kept his bedclothes in. He fell backwards onto the bed. “Just five minutes…” he bartered with himself, resting his eyes.

----------

A scream made his blood run cold.

Bolting upright, Jacob immediately noticed plumes of smoke coming in from underneath the door, the burning smell inviting a cough from his lungs.

The house was on fire.

He lunged for the doorknob, the metal quickly searing his skin. His fingers clenched around the knob reflexively. “Ah, fuck!” He shook out his hand, watching as the flesh blistered in front of his eyes. Turning around, he dug around in the chest of drawers for extra clothes to wrap around the knob, turning and pulling swiftly before the heat travelled through the fabric. The door burst open. Jacob ducked as the flames whipped around the open space, newly fed by the released oxygen. Fresh smoke engulfed the room; Jacob inhaled a lungful as it blew towards him. He cleared his chest as he fanned the smoke away. Wrapping the clothes around his arm as a guard, he braced himself and ran upstairs, only one thing on his mind.

“Lily?!” The flames had almost completely engulfed the lower floor; he was surprised and relieved that he had managed to dodge any falling debris. “Lily!” He covered the metal with the clothes as he reached her door, slowly peeling the door away and slipping through as small a gap as he could, avoiding the mistake he made earlier. He closed the door behind him, the air luckily cleaner in her bedroom. “Lily, where are you?!”

He checked under the bed, and began to grow panicked when he couldn’t find her. He heard the scream, but nothing else. What if…

He swallowed, trying to ease the tight band in his chest.

Opening the wardrobe, he practically collapsed in relief when he saw Lily cowering in the corner. “Come to me, angel.” She dived into his arms, quivering in fear. “It’s alright, we’ll get out. I need you to be brave for me, okay?”

“Okay.” Her voice was shaking.

He looked around for a quick exit, eyes landing on a window. He led Lily over and unlatched it, pushing it with his uninjured hand, albeit with difficulty. Leaning out, the air cleansed his lungs. He hoisted Lily onto the windowsill to give her fresher air, holding her to make sure she doesn’t fall out. She clutched onto him tightly. He noted how it opened into an alleyway. He heard the bells of police and fire engines around the front of the house.

“HEY! OVER HERE!” A man peered around the corner. “HEY! HELP!”

“We can’t fit the ladder through here! You have to go around the front!”

Jacob blinked. “Have you gone mad?!”

“There’s a small window around the front, looks like the landing. You better make a move before it’s no longer an option!”

“Can’t you just climb down?” Lily mumbled, mind in shock.

Jacob inspected his blistering palm; it felt as if he was still holding the doorknob. Slowly, he put pressure on his hand against the windowsill. The pain immediately bubbled up his arm. Biting his lip, he tried to pull himself onto the windowsill. With his weight, it was maybe possible, since he could drop higher than normal and roll once he hit the floor. With Lily, that wasn’t an option.

“I can’t risk it.”

“Well?!” The man was still there, watching him.

“Be ready!” Jacob pulled Lily into him. “I need you to breathe into this, alright, angel?” She nodded slowly. He gave her one of the shirts wrapped around his arm. “Close your eyes.”

“Should I count to ten?”

“It shouldn’t take any longer, love.”

Taking a second to compose himself, he wrapped his hand up and opened the door, squeezing through as little as he could before shutting the door again. He made a beeline for the end of the hall, dodging the flames as they grew nearer, licking the edge of the wooden floor. Reaching the window was the easy part. The hard part was opening the damn thing. It felt heavier than it usually did, and he strained his free hand to push it to the top. Outside, firemen were already level with the window, waiting for the two of them to emerge.

“One of you at a time.” Without hesitating, Jacob leaned out of the window, one arm reaching Lily out of the window, while the other stopped him from falling out himself.

Just as the firemen approached, Jacob heard a crack above him. “Take her. Take her now!” The urgency in his voice paid off, as he jumped out of the way of a falling support beam, blocking his way out. He hit the floor, covering his face as embers flew around him

Lily crying out caused his heart to flip, but he managed to catch a glimpse of her safely in the arms of the firemen. “No! PAPA!” His anxiety eased slightly, but only just. He scrambled to his feet just as the beam crumbled completely, blocking the window from view.

“Shit!” Coughing, Jacob looked around for another exit. His mind thought back to Lily’s bedroom; he could probably climb down carefully one-handed if he was quick enough. His study also seemed to be the furthest from the rest of the flames.

However, he was on borrowed time.

Downstairs was fully demolished; there was no way out there. Upstairs was closing in on him fast, the heat beginning to singe the hair on his arms and sear his skin. He ran for his study, narrowly avoiding falling debris. As he slammed the door shut, he was relieved at the sight of the room being unscathed. For now. He looked over the papers; they were definitely worth taking.

He emptied his desk of the files and stuffed them in a satchel that hid under his desk. He worked tenderly with his burned hand, careful not to aggravate the wound more than he already had. He coughed some more as he slid the satchel over his head, tightening the strap so it would lay fast against his back. As the cold leather touched his skin, he hissed. The flames must have licked him on the way in. He turned to check how much time he had left.

The fire had crept inside the doorframe, taunting him in a turbulent tango.

Jacob hurried for the window, looking for the latch. His fingers felt around the edge, but he couldn’t feel anything. He tried pushing, with no luck. Does this window not even open?!

Frantic, his non-dominant and uninjured hand went for the first thing that he could always rely on.

Two wide shots rang out, cracking the glass in a spider-web mosaic. He moved to shatter the glazing, but the world began to spin. Knees wobbling, he fell against his desk, hitting the floor. Coughing hurt, breathing hurt, thinking hurt.

But he was so close.

He blinked away the world that spun around him, shakily getting to his feet. He threw the force of his whole arm into the window, the gun providing the force to break the shards completely. Clearing the way for his hands, Jacob holstered the gun and slowly began the climb onto the roof.

He wasn’t dying. Not today.

Wincing every other second, he pulled himself half-heartedly onto the tiles. Jacob took a second to try and stabilise his vision, securing extra fabric around his hand. He manWeuvered his way around the burning holes, hoping instead to find a way down that doesn’t involve jumping or falling.

Unfortunately for him, that choice was made for him.

A tile came loose under his foot. He slipped, the edge of the roof coming almost too soon for him to react. His fingers grasped the gutter, which did nothing but snap under his weight. Upon hitting the ground, Jacob managed to roll, but instead of ending on his feet, he slumped across the floor. Groaning, he lay still as he recollected himself. To anyone else, he looked dead.

A pained cry set his heart pumping again, yet he didn’t realise at first that the cry was because of him, not for him. Light footsteps rushed over to him. “Pa? Papa?” He felt fingertips dance across his cheek. “Please wake up!”

He reached for the source of the voice. “I’m okay. Are you alright?” He managed to open his eyes to check over Lily’s state. Her eyes were bloodshot, her skin was dirtied in soot, and one of her hands was bleeding. “Has anyone said they would help you with this?”

She shook her head, the worry not leaving her face. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be; it’s over now.” He began the arduous process of standing up; from his stomach to his hands to his knees to his feet. Offering his hand to her, Jacob led the two of them out into the street. When everyone gathered in the street saw them, they cheered. Rooks quickly came to assist Jacob and pick up Lily, but he waved them away. He limped his way to the ambulance wagon waiting in front of them. Lily was hoisted onto the end while Jacob leaned heavily against the side. Lily faced him for reassurance.

“Mr Frye, sir!” He tilted his head as little as he could to get a view of who was calling his name. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine; just a bit singed.” He tried to joke, but the pain in his face betrayed his laidback attitude. He grasped his ribs, as if it would ease the burn on the inside. “Where’s Evie?”

“As soon as we heard what happened, we sent for her. She should be here any minute now.”

“Lily goes with Evie. As soon as she shows up, take her to the train. She’ll be safe there.” Another hard cough shook his chest.

“With all due respect, are you sure you’re well?”

“I’m… I…” The floor was ripped from under him. Jacob’s knees buckled as his vision went black. After a few seconds, he came to. The Rooks had caught him on the way down. Disorientated, he blinked, trying to process what was going on around him.

He heard a familiar voice. “Where are they?” Rooks wrapped Jacob’s arms around their necks, pulling him to the edge of the wagon. He barely registered arms pulling him from behind to lie down. He noted how he was staring up at the stars.

“Evie!” A young, panicked yell drove Jacob to sit up, but hands pushed him back down against the wood.

“You don’t want to make things any worse, Mr Frye.”

His body jolted between consciousness and unconsciousness as Evie came into view. She also looked worried. “Jacob? I’ve got Lily; she’ll be safe. I’ll come to the hospital as soon as I can.” Lily was snuggled against Evie, a bandage wrapped around her hand.

“Let’s hope I don’t fall off.” It was weak and hoarse, but there was humour in his tone.

“You better not.”

“Take the bag.” He gestured to the leather satchel underneath him. Slowly, she undid the strap and pulled it out from under him, barely able to avoid causing a wince. She looked inside to find the papers in impressive condition. “It’s the paperwork Greenie asked for.”

Jacob’s smile was weak as the wagon began to drive away. The rocking of the cobblestones was rough, and although jarring, also brought comfort. He fell in company with the stars as his consciousness left him yet again.

----------

The next time he became lucid, he immediately noticed that he could breathe better; oxygen was easier to take in than before, and although not perfect, kept the lightheadedness away. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the light. The feeling of rough gauze was not unfamiliar to him, so he assessed the wounds on his back based on how rough it felt to lean on.

He brought his burned hand up to see that it had also been wrapped neatly. Although that was the majority of his wounds, his entire body ached. He leaned back into his pillow and closed his eyes, assessing the situation. Approaching footsteps made him roll his head to the side, and a doctor appeared with a clipboard. “How are you feeling, my boy?” He asked with a pencil in his mouth, flipping through the various pages.

“Like I’ve been run over by a carriage. Multiple times.”

“I’m not surprised; you inhaled half a factory.”

Jacob prepared himself for the question he knew he had to ask but would hate the answer to. “How long has it been?”

“Oh, a few days, give or take.”

“How many days are we giving or taking?”

Just then, a door opened on the far end of the ward, a few people rapidly approaching. As they turned the corner, Jacob’s heart sank a bit. You were hurrying towards him with the look of a mortified wife, but he dreaded what you thought would be more mortifying: your house burning down, putting your only daughter’s life in danger…

“Thank God!” You swerved around the bed and kissed him, one which conveyed a hundred different emotions, the most evident being relief. After the initial shock, Jacob’s fingers came to your jaw, lightly directing as he kissed you deeper.

He slowly pulled away, worried eyes scanning your face. “I’m so sorry, Y/N, I haven’t the foggiest what happened--”

“You’re both safe; that’s all that matters.”

“But the house…”

“I’ve been prepared for disasters like this for a while. Everything I couldn’t stand to lose went in a fireproof box. There’s nothing gone that I can’t replace.”

“Papa!” Your eyes widened as you exchanged an impressed look with Jacob. Lily had crawled onto the bed and nestled her way into Jacob’s arms.

“Are you alright?” Without speaking, she nodded, deciding to play with his hand, fidgeting with his fingers and tracing the lines. Jacob looked to Evie, who followed her in.

Shepulled a concerned face, coming up to her and putting her hands over Lily’s ears. “She’s been crying herself to sleep, sometimes waking up in the middle of the night calling for one of you, sometimes both. She’ll heal, I’m sure, but for now I think time needs to pass. I investigated what could have happened that night; it wasn’t you.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they were Templars; pisses me off though.” He turned to you. “If you hadn’t visited your family…”

“Don’t ponder the ‘if’s, Jacob. It leads to all sorts of grief.” You threaded your hands through his hair.

Evie nodded. “All I know is what happened, not necessarily who did it.”

“Go on.”

“The house was rigged to burn down. Someone must’ve broken in, set down some oil or gas, and set it alight. It all happened very quickly -- it’s a miracle you got out when you did.”

At the explanation, Jacob ran a hand down his face. “The fun never stops.” He shifted to stand up.

“What are you doing?” You put your hand on his shoulder.

“I’m going to find whoever did this, and I have a feeling I know exactly where to start.”

“Not in this state you’re not.”

He stood up, much to your protests. “Honestly, Y/N, I’m…” His vision went black immediately, blood rushing to his head.

You quickly caught him. “‘Fine?” Sitting him down again, you brushed his hair out of his face. “Just take it easy.”

“I have errands to run.”

Evie whispered something to Lily, who gave the couple a mischievous grin. “We can do it!”

Jacob smiled, catching on. He leaned down to Lily’s ear. “Pick something Y/F/C,” he whispered. She nodded, grabbing Evie’s hand and running away.

The both of you laughed as Evie was dragged out of the ward. “What was that about?” You raised an eyebrow at the secrecy.

“It’s a surprise.”

Rolling your eyes, you joined him on the bed. “Don’t keep me waiting for too long.”

Jacob smiled to himself, the familiar excitement climbing. “I won’t.”

#assassin's creed #assassin's creed x reader #assassin's creed x f!reader #jacob frye #jacob frye x reader #jacob frye x f!reader #jacob frye oneshot #x reader #assassin's creed oneshot #assassin's creed imagine

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lesserfandomappreciation · 4 years ago

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Since this is a continuation of this, I’m going to keep it in line to that ask. Let me know if you want me to write it as gender-neutral.

Still think is this the dirtiest line of asks I’ve ever gotten/written (hehe).

Warning: VERY Lemon, daddy kink, minor breath play.

----------

She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take. His cock stuffed her over and over again, stretching her out in a way that had her on the brink of shattering. The pleasure coursing through her veins spiked suddenly as that cock hit deep in her, rubbing against the nerves within as her restraint snapped with it.

“Oh- oh daddy-!”

Nestor

The slow, deep pace came to a screeching halt. S/o didn’t want to lift her head up off Nestor’s chest - his stock-still body beneath hers was breathless. Whatever face he did have would be equally still, a nervous expression likely on there. Damn it- she should have known better than to bring this up now.

“...Come again?” Biting her lip so nervously was a bad idea but it was the only way to steel herself to look up at him. She’d been right about him being still, but the neutral look was unexpected.

“Sorry, it just came out. If you’re not comfortable we don’t-” S/o tried to adjust herself, the cock inside her dragging against a spot that made stars start to shine behind her eyes, but Nestor’s arm kept her right where she was. A deep, almost-purring chuckle made her whimper as the body under hers shook lightly.

“I never said I was uncomfortable dear, but I must admit that title isn’t for me.” Unable to move with her arms pinned under his, S/o was helpless to do anything but moan when he sat up, pressing her down onto his fat cock. His hips undulated upwards, hitting her deeper than before.

“Why don’t we try out ‘Sir’ instead?”

Trondo

"Damn right I am.” Almost all the breath was punted out of S/o when the hips that had been pushing into her were now brutally pounding into her mercilessly. Trondo pulled her feet over his shoulders and grabbed her hips. Tightly. There’d be bruises tomorrow but they’d be so worth it.

“Tell Daddy what you want, baby girl. Tell ‘im!”

“I want-” Sex hazing her mind made it hard to form any words. The sound of him thrusting into her in such a frenzy was maddening. The pressure inside her was building, rising. A hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing lightly, and her breath was made shallow. “I want to cum on your cock! Please, Daddy!”

“Oh fuck-” The dragon pressed down into her, chest to chest with as he bent her in half, not slowing for even a second. His hands - his warm, big hands - pulled her hips flat against him to the point she couldn’t so much as wiggle without feeling his cock slide into her. All she could do was moan and lose herself in pleasure as Trondo used her as a sex doll.

Gasping, moaning, squirming, S/o cried out when a hard snap into her hips sent her over. White flooded her vision and her insides when he roared and came hard, filling her to the point of overflow before collapsing beside her, his cock still inside of her.

S/o’s eyes slid shut, basking in the afterglow. And snapped wide open when she felt him slowly moving again.

“Ready for round two, baby girl?”

Cyrin

“How about that then? ‘Looks like lil’ darlin’s got some kinks o’ her own.” S/o flushed down at the dragon she was riding, a smug grin on his face. The cock inside her twitched though her hips had stopped moving.

“Oh no getting all shy on me now. Ol’ Cyrin wants to hear all of it.” S/o’s breath hitched when his hands rose up to grab her thighs, pulling her off of him until the very tip of him was left inside. Lazy as he was he was still a dragon, and no amount of squirming would get her back down on that dick. Cyrin gave a chuckle. “Now call Cyrin like you were doing earlier. I wanna hear it.”

“Cyrin.” Her insides clenched around air no matter how hard she tried. Tease. “Cyrin I’m begging you, let me-”

“Hm, that’s not what I wanna hear.” His thumbs pressed small circles in her thighs painfully close to where they needed to be but not so much as grazing. He shot another lazy grin at her, this one more wicked than before. “Maybe Daddy needs to remind ya what ya get if ya do a good job.”

S/o hadn’t a second to process. The hands that had been holding her up sent her straight down, his cock bottoming out into her within seconds. Cyrin’s groans were outdone by her loud, broken moan at the sudden fill, falling forward to balance herself on his belly. Fuck that hit deep. "Talk to me darlin’.”

“Daddy let- fuck - let me ride you please?”

“Aw how can I say no when you ask so nicely? Go right ahead darlin’.” Picking up her pace again, S/o noticed Cyrins hands were still on her thighs, pressing her back down in time to her movements. “Let Daddy see how pretty ya’look when ya lose it.”

Lateef

S/o knew the second she had said it. She hadn’t meant to - it’s just they had been so wrapped up in each other (literally, Lateef had a need to be as twisted into her as possible, even his very tail twisting around her leg to ground her in the moment) and it was all so overwhelmingly good that it slipped out. She had to make it right.

Her arms loosened enough to prop herself up to look at him. The dark blue scales where warm with lust in the middle of their time together and it took everything to not sink right back into the warmth. “Lateef, that slipped out, I’m so sorry,” s/o said massaging her hand into his shoulder. “I know that’s not your thing and you don’t like that.”

“Who said that?” Lateef grabbed her hand playing with her fingers in his gentle grip. S/o blinked owlishly at him. He did. He said things like that all time about “equal give and take” and “go with the flow.” Daddy kinks were not going with the flow. In fact they were the very opposite of going with the flow.

“You said-”

“My star love-making is for both our pleasures but it is also exploring what lies within, what demands attention. Your soul calls out to see this matter. Exploration of change is never a fault.” Her hand was gently taken to his lips, a kiss pressed so lightly that it made the heat in his gaze seem searing.

“Besides, there’s no reason I should hate you calling me so sweetly.”

#lemon #spyro #spyro reignited trilogy #spyro imagine #imagine #lateef #cyrin #trondo #nestor #going to hell #do not pass go do not collect 200 dollars #straight down into the fiery pits.

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syntheticsoulmates · 5 years ago

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Day 6-Everyday

Hello everyone! Extra thanks to @duplicitywrites for coming up with the idea of a Groundhog Day!

***

The worst part is that Harry never remembers him.

***

Tom is holding Harry's guts in. Harry's in so much pain his eyes aren't tracking, and a bubble of blood forms at his lips. It pops and droplets flick onto Tom’s face. It doesn't matter. What's a little more blood?

“Go,” Harry wheezes, and Tom's genuinely impressed he made actual sound, with the state his diaphragm isn’t in. He lackadaisically waves one hand, before he realizes that it's missing and just. Stops. “We both know this doesn't matter.”

Tom nods. It doesn't matter, not really. But it also does, to Tom, so Tom stops applying pressure with his hands and waits for that glow in Harry's eyes to die before he moves on.

***

Tom used to be terrified of dying. He's not anymore. He's done it so many times, so many different ways. How can you be afraid of something that happens every day?

***

“How did you get it to stop?” Tom asks, desperate, the first time he meets Harry.

Harry takes a deep breath, caps an Inferi over Tom’s shoulder. The way he moves is unreal. His voice is casual. “I got injured, real bad, but not enough to die right away. I passed out and the field medics got me. They bled me out, until it was red again.” Another burst of fire, another dropped horde of Inferi. Tom isn’t sure if he’s full of envy or dread.

“It hurt so bad I thought I died for real,” Harry laughs, cheerfully, and shoots another one.

***

“We should fuck,” Tom states. He’s staring at the nape of Harry's neck, at the line of clean-looking skin at Harry's hairline where his sweat has pushed away the grime. He wants to lick it. Or bite it. He's not picky.

Harry glares at him out of the corner of his eye, still maintaining good coverage with his gun. It's pointless. There aren't any Inferi until they hit the second outbuilding, and Tom will kill those three.

“I’m going to go with no, Riddle. And I'm not even flattered.” Harry's voice is dry, but Tom knows him so well he can tell he's amused despite himself.

Tom shrugs, like he doesn't want this almost as bad as he wants the morrow. “We have before,” he lies.

Harry shakes his head, obviously exasperated. There's a smile on the corners of his lips. Tom loves that smile. “I don't believe you.”

Tom shouldn't be surprised. Tom is new to Harry every day, but he still hasn't managed to successfully lie to him even once. Every day, Harry just looks up from where Tom blows the Inferi off of him, says a small, ‘Oh, you too?’, and follows him off the battlefield. Just like that. Still, Tom’s offended, more than he should be.

“What, you don't think you would ever condescend to bed me? You're straight?” Tom snarls. “I'm not ‘your type’?”

“No.” Harry's smiling outright now, and it takes the edge of Tom's anger, just like that. “I think I've been waiting. I’ll keep waiting. I'll wait until it will motivate you the most,” he says, sly, eyes gleaming.

***

“Good luck today, Tom,” Harry wishes him, voice soft. Tom can't feel his body, can't move his legs. The Inferi are screaming for flesh, and Tom can hear it getting closer. They have one bullet. Harry puts the barrel of his service pistol to Tom’s forehead and pulls the trigger.

***

Dumbledore twinkles at him, the rat bastard, and tells him he’s needed on the front lines, to boost morale. Tom declines. That's not what he does. He's handsome and he knows it. His father had abandoned him, left him only a face, but it's a damn good one, and he's used it to stay invaluable and thus invulnerable, in the war. Tom does recruitment and public relations and social media relations. He does not fight.

Dumbledore twinkles and twinkles until he stops. Tom ends up in the front lines anyway.

***

Tom vomits after he kills his first Inferi. It's not because it looks almost human, despite being over pale with a strange triangle circle amalgamation on its brow. He's killed humans before—father. grandfather. grandmother—and he didn't puke then. He'd felt high, as close to believing in God that he'd ever been. It had felt addictive and heady and right and he'd decided right then he’d never do it again because otherwise he'd never stop.

No, Tom vomits because the creature explodes into viscous black sludge, splattering his nose and mouth, squirting on his tongue. The fluid tastes like anise and motor oil and Tom knows the instant he tastes it everything is wrong. He dies for the first time, fifteen minutes later, teeth still stained black.

***

He and Harry are in a tiny cabin. Tom plucks a shotgun from inside the pantry and some buckshot from a drawer in the bathroom. He hands both to Harry.

Harry smiles at him, wan. He’s tired, and Tom knows he’s in pain all up his side from being thrown by the Inferi. “Thanks, Tom.”

Tom kisses him, brief, his mouth scorching hot against his own. He's been cold, so very cold, ever since he started dying. He's not sure if it's psychological or because there is black sludge to replace the blood in his chest.

Harry’s smile brightens, his cheeks the tiniest bit red. “Thanks for that too.”

***

Dumbledore doesn't believe them about the Deathly Hallows. He calls Harry his boy and fixes Tom tea and listens as Tom drags up his whole life history from Gellert and his baby Aryan group to his poor sister and the hospice incidents.

He doesn't and doesn't and doesn't and doesn't, until Tom presses a kiss to Harry’s brow and pushes Harry's gun down and asks him not to shoot, that doesn’t work, please love. He’s not sure if he even means it. He's so sick of Dumbledore’s twinkle.

Dumbledore hands over the Deathstick Harry had confiscated from the Inferi. After that Tom remembers the goddamned combination.

***

The Resurrection Stone Tom knows by now to pry out of the forehead of that first Inferi he killed, and still kills. He has to be quick about it, because every day Harry's nearly half the field away, every day Harry's got an Inferi poised over his neck for Tom to punt off of him.

He gets very fast.

***

“I just don't know where the Cloak is,” Tom whispers. He and Harry are playing hooky today, pretending the lights in the sky are fireworks instead of mortar and heavy artillery fire.

Harry's head is heavy on Tom’s shoulder. He's crying, silent with it, eyes so swollen Tom can only see slits of green. It's so painful for him to sit here, Tom doesn't think he'll ever ask Harry to do this again, no matter how many more years this stretches.

He folds his arm around Harry, squeezes him tight. He presses a kiss to Harry's hair. It smells good for once, from their selfish shower. His brain doesn’t quite know how to reconcile it as Harry.

***

The Cloak is in the Inferi’s Spawn Maw. Tom and Harry scope it out over the course of three days, and his stomach flips when he sees the pattern, or lack of one.

The few Inferi he and Harry kill at the Maw don't recycle. For the first time, since this never ending day began, something different is happening.

It’s only at the Maw, but that's enough. Time doesn't reset there. A fear he thought long dead—ha! rekindles in his belly.

Harry gets it a good while after he does, when they retreat, after Tom zips him into a shared sleeping bag and curls up beside him, breathing in the scent of his filthy hair. He’s exhausted, bone deep, but he fights the urge to sleep, choosing instead to savor these last moments with Harry, before Tom goes to shoot himself and they cycle back around. His mind has honed and honed and honed itself, but his body is still the same as that first day, fit but not hardened with it.

Harry goes perfectly still. He takes Tom’s hand in between his, grip tight. Tom knows if he looked, he'd see Harry's fingers dimpling hard enough to blanch Tom's skin even paler white. “Promise me, Tom. Promise me you won't do it alone.”

Tom nuzzles deep into Harry's hair. It smells awful, like blood and burnt gunpowder and Harry’s drying fear sweat. He breathes in deeper and doesn't reply.

Harry always knows when he's lying, after all.

***

They’re back at the cabin. Tom leaves the shotgun and the buckshot where they are. He takes a step towards Harry instead.

“Please,” Tom whispers. He gently pulls the gun from Harry’s hands, then hooks his fingers into the curls of Harry’s belt loops. He pulls Harry to him, gentle. “Please,” he repeats. In another time, another life, he'd have never said that word, never could have meant it. But this one day has become a new lifetime, and he means it now.

Harry melts to him, body going soft, pliant. He holds Tom’s face in his hands. They're gritty and acrid-smelling from gunpowder. Tom rubs his cheeks against them, presses kisses against the calluses on the inside of his palms.

“Please, Harry, let me have you.” He whispers into Harry's skin. “Let me remember this for the both of us,” he pleads. He pulls Harry closer, grinds his hips, slow. “Let me.”

“Okay,” Harry nods. “Okay.” He kisses Tom back.

***

In the end, the Spawn Maw’s is just as horrific as he never could have imagined.

He does end up taking Harry, if only because he can’t fucking shake him after punting that Inferi off his almost-corpse, and he refuses to fix a future where Harry dies. He can’t shake Harry, so he also ends up taking a ragtag bunch of deserters he quite literally stumbled across about five years in todays ago instead of just stealing their Semtex. They’re crazy, and it takes less than fifteen minutes of convincing before they’re game.

“Groundhog Day!” The crazy curly haired woman who runs the group gleefully crows. She shot and killed him the first time, and Tom literally just saw her put a blasting cap in her mouth and bite down, so he thinks it’s understandable he misses her name. Stranger, maybe?

There are more Inferi in this maw than Tom could ever imagined, and half of the deserters are gone before they even get inside.

Inside holds a huge pool of black liquid, like the sludge Tom holds in his veins. It’s still, still, until one of the deserters trips as one of the Inferi tries to rip off his arms falls in. Then Inferi come pouring out, more bodies than that slick black morass could possibly hold.

The Cloak doesn’t turn out to be an object in quite the way the Stone and the Deathstick are, but more like a thick fur-like thing grown into a giant Inferi’s skin. It’s marked with the same bastardized circle triangle as that very first Inferi he killed and kills. He and Harry end up kneeling on the shrieking Inferi’s too many jointed limbs as Stranger-maybe laughs madly and flays it.

She’s barely ripped the last stretch of the Cloak free in a burst of anise and motor oil when even more Inferi pour in. She’s still laughing and holding it triumphantly aloft as she dies. Harry pulls the Cloak from her hands, and there’s no time.

“Riddle,” Harry stares at him with wide eyes. Tom hasn’t kissed his lips once today and he feels the lack like a split in his soul. Harry passes him the Cloak. “There’s no time.”

There are neatly packed blocks of Semtex in the backpack Stranger-maybe was carrying. Tom has the Stone and the Deathstick in his own, and the thick morass of the Cloak dripping in his hands.

Tom ignores the startled look in Harry’s eyes when he takes Harry’s hand for the boom.

***

Tom wakes up. His body is not sore and the sun is shining. It’s not today. Tom looks around, and some distant dim recognition supposes it might be yesterday. He’s not certain if this is better or worse, until he notices the people sort of milling about, stunned and aimless.

“The Inferi just keeled over and stopped moving,” one woman tells him, somewhat stunned. Tom lets her go, stunned himself.

His hand bleeds red when he cuts it. Tom could laugh in sheer joy.

It takes an interminable three hours to find him.

“Harry Potter.” Tom calls out, knowing better than to startle Harry. He can’t stop smiling and it feels unnatural on his face.

Harry jerks up from where he’s polishing his gun, looks Tom up and down. He smiles back. “Oh, you too?”

#day 6: everyday #tomarry d&d-athon #thanks duplicity!#edge of tomorrow!au

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paige-from-my-book · 4 years ago

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Aaaaannnnddd because I'm a useless lesbian, obviously I'm also writing a sports team romance. Here's a snippet from my rugby story (because I'm obsessed with rugby)! This one will take a long time to finish, it clocks in currently at 37 pages, but has a long ways to go. It is still pretty rough around the edges, so I would love feedback on how to make it better!

"I run up to practice as fast as I can. The spotlight is going to be on me enough being the new girl who became captain without even playing on the team first. The downside to being the coach’s family friend. Or upside, depending on how you feel about earning spots of leadership. I’ve never been handed anything. But no one on the team will see it that way. All these girls know is that I’m coming from a few towns down the road and am taking who knows what popular girl’s spot on the team.

No one sees the years of experience, or hours of practice to make sure every tackle is right, or the drops of sweat I shed at the gym. All they see is a new girl coming in, taking some well-liked leader out of the running, and trying to tell them what to do.

All of that would have been looming enough without my chemistry class running late, meaning now I’m showing up as the girls are finishing their lap.

I throw my bag down and get my cleats on as fast as I can. As I’m finishing up my second shoe, I hear a throat clear.

I turn around to see a girl a few inches taller than me looking down with annoyance. She has bleach blonde hair, icy eyes, and looks like she could punt me across the pitch if she wanted to.

“We like to start practice on time. We’re all busy, be considerate,” she says, raising one eyebrow.

“I know, I’m really sorry, my class went late. I rushed over as fast as I could,” I explain.

“Chris! Hey no worries, there Becca. Chris let me know she was going to be late.” The sound of Len slows my quickly rising heart rate. Even if the girls here don’t think I belong on the team, they can’t be too rough about it while the coach is here.

“Oh, you’re Chris!” a shorter girl smiles, holding her hand out. “Rex. How’s it going? You get started off with your classes alright?” She’s stouter than most of the girls there and has a much lower voice. Her small face glistens already with sweat.

“Yeah. I am. It’s good. Ya know, just got moved in and such. Learning where everything is.”

“Oh, so you’re our new field captain,” a third girl says, almost coolly. I turn to look at her and have to hold back a gasp. She looks down at me, since my head only comes up to her shoulders. Her dark, almost black, long hair is pulled back in a ponytail, but some of her bangs have escaped her headband already, blowing in her toned face. Her eyes stare into mine, like an ocean blue beating against the dark brown rocks that were my eyes. Her tank top shows off her muscular shoulders and neck as they ease into her rising and falling chest.

“Y-y-yeah, I uh…. I-I am,” I stutter, realizing I was staring at her incredible jawline for a bit too long. Great first impression, Captain.

She nods. “Right. Well we usually start practice off with a lap and some dynamic stretching.”

I nod back. “Oh for sure. I don’t want to be changing too much here. I just want to… You know… Get us some w’s….” I stammer, clapping my hands together.

The tall girl gives me an amused look, also raising an eyebrow, but not in an annoyed way. Her look was more of a “What are you even doing here and who put you in charge?”

“Right so with Chris now at scrumhalf, we’ll need to switch some people around. Jordyn, you’ll be on the forward side now, and we’ll need to switch some others around to make everything fit.”

“Coach, you know I’m a better back. I just can’t run with the ball as well when I’m a forward,” Ocean Eyes complains.

“Sorry, Jordyn. The only spot I have for you is in the pack, now. All the other backs just aren’t as good at being a forward as you are.”

Jordyn looks down and I feel my face getting red. As Len starts shouting out instructions for our first drill, I gently nudge Jordyn.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ I start to apologize.

“It’s fine,” Jordyn says, looking back up and beginning to walk to where some cones are set up.

“Jordyn, really, I-“

“Seriously, Chris. It’s fine.”

I sheepishly follow everyone over to where the cones are set up. As far as first five minutes on a team goes, that was probably one of the worst-case scenarios.

Later that week I go to my Spanish class. I sit in my desk about fifteen minutes before class starts. I’ve found the earlier you show up, the better pick of seats you have.

I sit at a desk in the second row, next to the wall. I sit on my computer and look at different housing off of campus. The dorms are already getting on my nerves. Apparently 10 pm quiet hours doesn’t actually mean it’s quiet by midnight.

“Hey there, Chris,” a familiar voice spits my name out awkwardly.

I look up to see Jordyn and another girl from the team standing in front of me, almost cornering me to the wall.

“Hey, guys,” I say, trying to give a friendly smile, but I know it looks faked and terrified.

“Do you just shoot up the ladder in everything you do?” the other girl asked with a half grin on her face.

“I uh…. I did pretty well on the um… entrance exam,” I manage to get out.

“Clearly. I might need to cheat off of you,” Jordyn says, tapping my notebook lightly with her pen. She flashes me an equally forced half smile, not even showing her teeth, and turns to sit down next to some friends of hers.

The professor starts class by handing back our tests. As I go up to grab mine, Jordyn catches my arm on the way back to my seat.

“How’d you d- Holy crap!” she exclaimed as she saw my test score.

“Oh, it’s just… I actually had a student that was from Spain stay with my family for a bit and we would talk all the time….”

“Yes, I’d encourage some of you to seek out help, maybe form study groups that don’t just include your friends, Miss Bellings,” the professor comments, hearing our conversation.

Jordyn pressed her lips together and looked back up at me.

My eyes and mouth opened wide as I tried to stammer out an apology.

Jordyn held up her hand and shook her head. “Whatever newbie. It’s not your fault you’re perfect.”

“I’m… I’m really not.”

Jordyn is already talking with a guy and laughing at something he said, so I walk the rest of the way back to my seat.

I pour coffee into my mug. In high school I was fine getting up for eight o’clock class every day. In college I have to slap myself to wake up enough to get out of bed.

“Man, eight AM’s, right?” someone leans over and mutters to me.

“Yeah, definitely,” I mumble back as I continue fixing up my coffee with some cream.

A hand next to me provides a stir stick. I take it and look up to say thank you to see Rex.

“Oh, hey, Rex.” She looks amused that I'm only just now realizing it's her standing next to me.

“Hey Chris. You excited for our first game this weekend?”

“I’m not sure. The girls don’t seem to want to listen to me.” The last couple weeks at practice had been hard. Any time I tried to introduce a new play or give tips or run a drill it was always met with resistance. One particular forward, Ashleigh, would sometimes outright ignore me, even if I talked directly to her.

“Once they see you really play in a game, they’ll have no choice but to respect you.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Chris, Jordyn and I watched those tapes you sent Len. We know his brother’s been training you with that men’s team in your town. Plus you’re always so good at letting us know what to do and changing your coaching to fit the players. They’d be nuts not to.”

“Why did you and Jordyn see the tapes?”

“Because I’m the president and Jordyn was the field captain.”

I feel my face go red again. “Man. I really screwed things up for her.”

“She knows why. Soon everyone else will, too. And it’s not like she minds.”

I look back at Rex as we start walking to where my books are. “I just don’t like being handed things, and I feel like that’s all she sees from me.”

Rex gives me a small smile. “She doesn’t feel that way. She may feel a little intimidated that you beat her in everything, though, including Spanish.”

“How do you know what Spanish I’m in?” I ask, trying to remember if I saw her in that class.

“Jordyn and I are roommates. She told me you looked familiar on the first day of practice and then once she found out you were in the same Spanish class, she told me.”

I nod. Jordyn talks about me? And not in a negative way?

Rex pats my shoulder as I stop at my table. “But anyway, give it time. The team will warm up to you.”

Those words ring in my ears as the actual ringing ebbs away. That had been a hard hit. Ashleigh should have never passed me the ball high like that, especially with the other team so close. The wind had left my lungs completely and leaves me sputtering and coughing a bit.

“Three, come here please. Her feet were still off the ground, that’ll be an illegal hit, ball to blue,” I hear the sir call.

“Chris, you okay?” Rex asks, standing over me.

I nod, still unable to talk. Finally I’m able to suck air in just in time to cough it back out. My breathing steadies as the forwards come to where the ball is.

“Hey girls,” I wheeze. “We gotta keep those passes low and smart. No more hospital passes.” I have to cough a few more times before my breathing is fully steady again.

Ashleigh rolls her eyes as we set up and keep play going.

After the game, I look for ice to put on my cheek. I can feel a swelling there from getting kneed at some point.

“Hey, Chris, good job,” Maddy says. Maddy is a blonde, about 5’6” inside center. She has curly hair and tattoos covering her toned arms. “You really helped the flow of our game.”

I offer a smile but it hurts my cheek so it turns into a wince. “Thanks, Maddy. I appreciate you being with me when I would make runs.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry the whole team hasn’t warmed up to you. You really do make a difference, though. They’ll come around.”

“Hey and even if they don’t, I just have to wait three years for them to graduate,” I joke. God three years. Transferring schools sucks.

Maddy laughs and claps a hand on my shoulder.

“Jokes on you, I’m gonna be a super senior and outlast everyone on the team,” Jordyn says, walking by us to grab something out of her bag. “Hey, your cheek isn’t looking so great, are you putting something on that?”

“Well, I was going to go look around for some ice of some sort,” I answer, not sure at first if she was talking to me. I can’t tell if she’s concerned or not. Her face so rarely shows emotion, I have no idea if she likes me or not.

“Oh, don’t bother. Just put one of these on it,” Rex interrupted, also walking up to our small group. She hands me an ice-cold beer.

“Oh, I’m only nine-“

I’m cut off by a hand on my mouth.

“We don’t want to hear it, as long as you want it, it’s yours,” Rex says, taking her hand away from my face.

I take the beer, not wanting to seem ungrateful around my new and desperately needed friends.

I crack the beer, take a drink and put the cold can on my cheek. I’ve only had beer a couple of times in my life. My father always wanted someone to drink beer with, and since my older sister hated it, he’d let me try his from time to time.

Still, this isn’t what my dad would order. The light blue can shouts college budget beer. I’ll need to get used to this.

“There you go, kid,” Jordyn says, patting me on the back with her muscular arms.

I smile and then wince at her. I’m glad she finally said something to me that was positive. Ever since I learned it was her place on the field I was taking, I’ve wanted to make it up to her. Maybe tutor her if she doesn’t hate me.

She chuckles at my attempt at a smile. “Man, gotta love rugby.” I notice long cleat marks down her leg. She favors it slightly as she walks.

“You coming to the social, Chris?” Rex asks.

“Oh, I don’t know. I might try to go back and do some homework.”

“I might go back to do some homework,” Becca says in a mockingly dorky tone. “Come on, Chris. You played great today, you earned a fun night with some beers.”

I nod sheepishly, again not wanting to be rude. I can never tell if Becca likes me or not either. She’s nice to me at times and never makes fun of me or disrespects me. But she also never goes out of her way to talk to me. But she’s straightforward and works hard. She’s given me absolutely no reason to dislike her. Maybe one by one I can win the team over."

#lgbtlove #lesbian love #rugbylove #rugby #lgbtq characters #lgbtpride #fiction #original story #f/f #f/f fic #f/f romance #lesbians #lgbtq #romance #original work #original content #original writing #gay love

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criticalrolo · 5 years ago

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almost, always (limwen x cassiopeia)

It’s very basic: four times Limwen really, really wanted to kiss Cass, and one time she finally did.

(your move, @stormslesbian)

The thing is, glitching is never an easy process. Plane shifting is tiring enough, without it being an involuntary process that feels closer to being dragged through a hole than to jumping into space. As it is, when Limwen's feet hit the ground, it's with the full weight of the multiverse punting her around. There's an audible snap as the temporary portal seals itself shut behind her, and her knees buckle under the force of gravity aggressively reasserting itself. She falls on all fours, heaving in a gasp that feels like her first in ages. Wherever she is, it's relatively quiet, and the sudden sound of her panting breaths cracks through the silence.

Silence, meaning that she is alone. Unlike a few moments before, when a small starry hand had been clutching at her own pale fingers, asking her what all this energy was, why was she phasing in and out of sight, Limwen what's happening –

Limwen opens her eyes.

She's glitched to some sort of forest, surrounded by tall trees with black bark and creeping dark vines looping across their branches. What little she can make out of the sky from her hunched over position on the ground is as dark as pitch as well, with no visible moon or stars that could help her navigate. And, as she suspected, there is no softly glowing pink figure anywhere nearby, laughing at how she's ripped her leggings in her fall and reaching down to help her up.

Her next inhale catches in her throat, and the next as well. The heavy weight on her chest feels less like the familiar press of new gravity and more like a hand that has reached between her ribs to squeeze her lungs closed.

A bit frantically, Limwen staggers up from her knees, reaching out to the nearest black tree to steady herself. The rough bark scratches at her palm, and she knows vertigo is to be expected after being forced across the universe in the blink of an eye, but that doesn't explain the dizzy feeling building behind her eyes or the way her throat constricts at how she can't hear a single living thing nearby, or how she should have known better when she thought she'd found someone who she could count on to stay -

There's another snapping noise, and although she's never glitched twice in a row so quickly, Limwen instinctively braces herself for the familiar pull and tug of the universe tossing her away.

The feeling never comes. Instead, there's a nearby thump and the sound of twigs snapping under approaching footsteps.

"Wow, Limwen, you should have told me you were going to jump so we could travel together!"

Cass shakes off the residual energy from her own planeshift and beams at Limwen, who doesn't realize her jaw is slack with surprise and relief.

"I... didn't realize it was going to happen," Limwen mumbles, her voice rough with adrenaline. "I should have told you, I don't really get a say in the matter." Her hands are shaking as she runs them through her long dark hair.

Cass's face twists into an expression of surprise touched with sadness. "Oh, I hadn't realized. That doesn't sound very fun. Explains why it took me a second to find you though. " She turns her vivid starry eyes to look around at the forest they've both landed in. "Where are we anyway?"

The second Cass glances away, Limwen is seized by the insane desire to reach out and kiss her out of sheer relief that she somehow hasn't been left alone.

She doesn't do that. Instead, she just says, "I'm not sure. I don't get to decide where I land either."

Cass smiles softly, and holds out a hand towards her. "Want to find out together?"

Limwen takes the hand.

"You," Limwen says, pushing Cass to sit down on a flat rock covered in lime green lichen, "have no sense of self preservation whatsoever. Are you still pressing down on that like I told you to?"

Cass grimaces, her normally cheerful glow dimmed to practically nothing as she holds the wad of fabric down over her freely bleeding shoulder. "I didn't think he would react like that! He seemed like such a nice man and those glass sculptures he was selling were so beautiful."

Limwen lets out a sigh, glancing back towards the town walls that the two of them had just been chased from. If she squints, she can just make out the front gates, but it doesn't seem like their pursuers felt the need to follow them further than the city limits. "They were lovely, I suppose. But that doesn't mean you should just grab one of them."

Cass looks at her with an expression so miserable Limwen almost flinches. "It wasn't like I was going to steal it or anything! I just wanted a closer look at the details."

Her voice is earnest, but tight with suppressed pain as Limwen reaches out to peel away the cloth that she'd hurriedly tried to wrap Cass's shoulder in when the shop owner had snapped and lunged at her with a knife. "We're going to have to be more careful for as long as we're here. People are... touchier than expected. Also, this cut looks like it's going to need stitches."

Cass's eyes go wide, the faint starlight that always dances in her irises flaring for a moment. "I've never had stitches before. Do they hurt?"

The rough satchel Limwen always carries is full to the brim with the food she'd haggled for earlier, and it takes her a moment to dig out the medicinal kit. She kneels down next to Cass and tugs her shirt sleeve aside to give herself more room to work. "It can sting a bit. Hold still so I don't mess up."

Before she can think too much about what she's doing, Limwen threads the needle, gently positions Cass's arm, and pierces through the skin to begin sewing her up. The high pitched whine that Cass quickly cuts off feels like a needle piercing into her own heart, but she firmly buries that feeling. Limwen has given herself plenty of stitches before, and knows how to move efficiently for the least amount of pain. She narrows her eyes and focuses on getting Cass patched back together.

When she pulls the last stitch into place, there's just the barest trace of moisture building in Cass's eyes. Limwen cuts off the thread and is seized by the insane desire to lean forward and... kiss it better? She shakes her head and settles back, brow furrowed. Cass doesn't say anything, just sucks in a slightly shaky breath, so she asks, "Hey, are you okay?"

Cass hesitates, and then reaches forward with her good arm to pull Limwen into a hug. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"Not your fault, Cass. That guy was an asshole. If you want, I'll go back in there and stab him right back." Cass lets out a slightly watery laugh, but shakes her head and squeezes Limwen a bit tighter.

She squeezes back.

"Have you seen how gorgeous these flowers are? I've never seen such a bright shade of orange in a plant like this!"

"I... wow, that's really..."

"And look -- when you hold it like this -- yeah, there you go, when you angle it just right they're reflective! You can see the sun setting in them."

"Very pretty, Cass."

"It looks like they're on fire, but in a good way. Don't you think?"

"Yes."

"Limwen, you're not even looking at the flowers, you're looking at me. You've got to angle your head just right..."

"...Yeah, of course, right."

The whole world is grey and faint, just bleary shadows that smudge and blur on the edges of Limwen's vision. She tries to blink, tries to clear her head, but every time she closes her eyelids everything seems to shift and spin in a way that makes everything pulse and throb horribly.

Was it the last glitch that had felt so awful, or was it the one before that? They'd been coming more frequently in the past couple of months. Limwen has a vague memory of being forced through a few jumps in a row and the sensation of the universe tearing her whole body apart at the seams, before slamming into solid ground at last and cracking her head against something rough and solid. After that, everything went hazy and dark, until she awoke with a fire lit under her skin and no way to make sense of anything around her.

She works on forcing air in and out of her lungs. Even though she feels trapped inside her own skin, the sound of her wheezing seems to come from far away. There's an even more distant noise that sounds vaguely musical... or maybe it's someone speaking? It's too hard for her to tell, so she doesn't try to focus in.

What she does notice is the feeling of something cool being draped over where she assumes her forehead is. It feels so nice in comparison to the raging heat that threatens to burn her from the inside out that for a second she's able to make out a glimmer of pink and purple that stands out against all the grey.

“Limwen? Are you awake?” the music says. The vague shape of a hand reaches out to press against her cheek.

Limwen’s brain must really be boiling, because if she could have mustered the energy to move, she would have reached out to brush a kiss against the star dotted fingers on her face. For some reason, it feels important and like the thing she has to do.

She doesn’t have the energy though, so she settles for a brief keening noise that was supposed to be words but definitely isn’t.

The music sighs, and the thumb gently caresses her cheekbone. “That’s okay. I’ll keep a look out here, and you go back to sleep.”

She trusts the music, so she does.

–

After glitching so deep underwater, Limwen had thought that surely this was when the universe finally got its act together and actually managed to kill her off. The shifting ocean floor had risen up like a living beast to swallow her down, growls rumbling deep through the water as it pulled at her, when a pink hand wrapped itself around her wrist, clutching her arm and dragging her away.

It’s with a desperate gasp that they both burst above the surface of the ocean, a hundred yards from the shore. Cass is still holding onto her tight enough to turn her knuckles white, panting and running her hands over whatever part of Limwen she can reach, checking for blood or injuries. After brushing so close to death and being convinced she’d never see Cass’s face again, Limwen can’t tear her gaze away from the way the sunlight bouncing off the water reflects off Cass’s beautiful star filled eyes.

They’re both treading water and trying to catch their breath when Cass presses a hand against her cheek in such a tender manner that Limwen feels like her heart is breaking. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

Limwen blames the oxygen deprivation for why she doesn’t think at all before leaning in and kissing Cass right there in the middle of the ocean.

There’s a moment where Cass stiffens out of shock, and then the hand on Limwen’s face moves to the back of her neck to pull her in closer as Cass kisses her back. The water they’re both drenched in is salty, but underneath it Cass tastes like starlight.

It’s hard to tread water without both hands though, and neither of them really have caught their breath yet, so they break apart after a few moments. Limwen stares at Cass with wide eyes, suddenly mortified that she might have done something wrong, when Cass grins and splashes her.

“Limwen, you couldn’t have waited ten seconds until we were on dry land where we wouldn’t have to stop?” Cass laughs at Limwen’s stricken expression. “Come on. I’ll race you to shore!” She pushes away and starts to swim towards the beach.

There’s a light burning in Limwen’s chest as she blinks and watches Cass swim away. Then, with a small smile of her own, she hurries after her.

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #ocs #limwen #caswen #stormslesbian #HMMM #my writing

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rapperkookz · 6 years ago

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Rush!BTΣ — college!au, borderline crackhead au w/ @cynoirsure

a story about three friends and their obstacles of relationships, academic excellence, and figuring out that international kids aren’t all that bad.

20/35 (Lineage Bonding Part 2)

word count: 1.8k genre: fluff, crack, roasting warnings: swearing

Narrator’s POV

Meanwhile, at Namjoon’s apartment, Jungkook was currently cowering with . Killmonger in tow under the harsh judgement of the Beta Tau president, who was currently squinting at something Jungkook had . said.

“Little, you can’t really convince me that you aren’t the first person to catch feelings.” Namjoon raised an eyebrow. Jungkook had just joked around saying that he didn’t know feelings because all he did was fuck around, but Namjoon and Yoongi were skeptical about the youngest making such a bold statement.

“Yeah, if y/n got hurt, you’d be the first person to kick the other person’s ass.” Yoongi remarked, the youngest pouting at his grand.

“Well, we all know Jimin hyung would be the first, I’m just a close second-”

“Grand, we all . know that you’re way taller than Jiminie and you’d outrun him because you have longer legs,” Yoongi cut him off, the youngest pouting even more.

“Wasn’t Jimin just texting the group chat complaining about the both of you going to the gym last week and he couldn’t keep up? Kook, I think you really underestimate your own athletic ability, especially since you’re in the running to join the olympic volleyball team.” Namjoon shook his head, sighing. Jungkook, anxious with all the attention on him, decided to keep himself busy by playing one of the cat’s paws that was currently outstretched from the sleeping figure on his lap.

“Hyung, what are you trying to say?” Jungkook chuckled nervously, squeezing the paw gently before the cat’s limb back onto his lap.

“I think what Namjoon’s trying to say is if someone accidentally bumped into y/n and spilled water on her shirt, you’d probably punt them into next week. Just tell her you like her and . go, Kook.” Yoongi reached over to pat Jungkook’s head. Jungkook rolled his eyes, looking over at Yoongi with a raised eyebrow.

“Enough about me, you two already know there’s another elephant in the room that’s way bigger than my feelings for y/n.” Jungkook’s eyes locked on his target for his next attack. Yoongi raised an eyebrow, interested to hear what Jungkook had to say. Namjoon also knew what Jungkook had in mind, smirking at his Big from the other side of Jungkook. “Grand?”

Yoongi, upon realizing what Jungkook was going to say, suddenly became nervous. “What...About me?” He only asked carefully, attempting to sink into Namjoon’s couch while hugging the koala head.

“Grand you have the biggest crush on Jinhee noona and it shows. If you guys weren’t rehearsing together for the solo concert, I would have thought you were here stalker with the amount of pictures of her that I see on your phone whenever I steal it.” Yoongi cursed inwardly at the youngest’s observation, Namjoon’s face slowly twisting into more of a dismayed look.

“Ah, Jinhee...? Big are you sure about that?” Namjoon questioned carefully. Yoongi’s eyebrow raised at Namjoon, the eldest tilting his head.

“What do you mean, Little?”

“Well, we all know that Jinhee and Seokjin basically share the same brain cell, but you can barely handle being around Seokjin, even if he is your line bro. You roomed with him last year, didn’t you?” Namjoon recalled the situation between them clearly, Yoongi sitting up abruptly with a sigh of frustration.

“What? No! When she’s alone she’s so quiet! She hums under her breath when she doesn’t know what to say and I think she’s only loud when she’s around Seokjin because she’s comfortable with him and I just wanna be the same way like, maybe this year and maybe soon! Plus, she’s the only girl that Killmonger hasn’t tried to kill in one night, so...” Namjoon blinked at his Big’s outburst, blinking and exchanging looks with Jungkook.

“...Little really wasn’t kidding when he said your crush on Jinhee shows.” Namjoon and Jungkook burst out into laughter, Yoongi’s nose scrunching in embarrassment.

“Don’t forget he almost beat up Jimin hyung when he tried to sleep with her.” Jungkook managed to say the sentence through his laughter, slapping Yoongi’s thigh as he was laughing. Yoongi rolled his eyes, flicking Jungkook’s forehead.

“Sorry, not all of us can successfully sleep with the girl we’ve been pining for all year when we get alone.” Jungkook whined once more, pouting up at Yoongi.

“Hey! You’ve been crushing on noona for super long, haven’t you? Ever since Seokjin hyung and you roomed together . last year? That’s what Big told me!” Jungkook wiggled against Namjoon, the boy’s headache growing as he heard the two of them bickering.

“Before I lose it with you two, let’s just put on a movie and call it a night.” Namjoon massaged his temples, casting Netflix from his phone. Jungkook flopped back into the couch, huffing and crossing his arms. The cat that was . once sleeping in his arms was now fully awake and loudly meowing on Jungkook’s lap, attempting to knead his thighs. The younger one winced at the pain for a little before lifting the cat onto Yoongi’s lap as Infinity War started playing, the eldest happy with taking his cat back.

They only got to the part where the Hulk crashed into New York, about 10 minutes in, when Yoongi straightened from where he was sitting.

“Hold the fuck up Little, don’t act like I don’t know about this lil budding romance you have with y/n’s line sister.” Namjoon’s ears perked up at Yoongi’s sudden comment, Jungkook’s eyes going back and forth between his Big and Grand.

“Oh? Okay, attack me Big.” Namjoon smirked. Jungkook took a few seconds to process who it was before he gasped from between the two.

“Oh my God. Grand means Rosa. Big, you have a thing with Rosa?”

“We’re talking,” he said casually, “It’s no secret.”

“I’m offended you didn’t tell me,” Jungkook frowned crossing his arms. Namjoon rolled his eyes and put his arm around the younger boy.

“You have your own relationship stuff to deal with Little Bro, I didn’t want to add on with my potential romance.” He grinned, “Be honest with us, what is y/n to you?”

“y/n? She’s like...the girl of my dreams.” Jungkook said with a smile, “She never fails to brighten my day, seriously just hearing her name makes me happy. God, when she was mad at me about the thing with Lisa, I’ve never felt so shitty in my entire life-”

“Why did you dance with Lisa at the club that one time?” Yoongi asked.

“I don’t know, I was drunk, horny, and being stupid. But then as soon as I saw y/n and Mingyu making out I...fuck I wanted to punch his face so bad, and Mingyu’s like one of my best friends.” He sighed. “That was when I realized that I didn’t want to fuck around with other people. Thinking about y/n being with another guy pisses me off, and I just want her to be mine.”

“Why don’t you tell her then?” Namjoon chuckled, “Rosa and I talk about it all the time.”

“Big, I don’t even know if she likes me like that.” Jungkook frowned.

“That’s bullshit, y/n has the fattest crush on you, and you’re so incredibly whipped for her.” Yoongi said.

“Funny of you to say that Big, when that’s exactly what’s happening right now with you and Jinhee.”

“Hey don’t turn this on me Little, we were talking about my Grand.” Yoongi said defensively, scooping up Killmonger and paying attention to the movie that was playing in the background. Namjoon only grinned, shaking his head at his lineage. Jungkook rolled his eyes at the two older ones, leaning onto Namjoon.

The three of them ended up crying to the movie by the end, as well as got into a conversation about who at Beta Tau would disintegrate when Thanos snapped his fingers.

“Big...I’m bi.” Taehyung said aloud from the couch in the lounge of his dorm, Seokjin turning around from the stove.

“...Is this supposed to be new news, Little?” Seokjin blinked at him, Taehyung going to open his mouth before he processed what Seokjin just said. Taehyung looked back at Seokjin in disbelief, mouth gaping at his Big. “Oh come on, you didn’t think I didn’t know?”

“I-uh-only told Jiminie and Kevin though,” Tae muttered.

“I’m your Big. I know. Also, I’m gay, don’t you think I have a radar?”

Taehyung mumbled oh quietly, petting Yeontan’s head to distract him from . his thoughts. Seokjin glanced back at his Little, his heart wrenching at the sight of the usual cheery boy who was now frowning on the couch. Turning off the stove, Jin grabbed the pot of ramen and brought it to where Taehyung was sitting, “Have you told your parents yet?”

“Well, they’re coming to visit Seoul in a few weeks so I was hoping to maybe introduce Kevin to them, but I don’t know.”

“No matter what they say, Little, you have such an amazing support system here. And you have me, of course.” Seokjin said ruffling his hair, bringing back Taehyung’s usual smile. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been the best Big lately.”

Taehyung shook his head, “You’re graduating Big Bro, I get it. Besides, I know that you’ve been having a dry spell.”

“Okay, that’s because everyone thinks I’m dating Jinhee.” Seokjin grumbled chomping angrily at the ramen. Taehyung laughed and put Yeontan down, picking up his chopsticks to eat as well.

“Why don’t you ask Hoseok hyung to hook you up?” He asked. Seokjin rolled his eyes, “Please, he’ll only take the guys for himself.”

Taehyung agreed and the two fell into a comfortable silence. As they finished the ramen, Seokjin spoke up again, the tone in his voice concerned and sincere. “Kevin treats you well, Little?”

Immediately, Taehyung smiled. Seokjin could practically see the hearts in his eyes, “Yeah, He does.”

“Then that’s all that matters to me.” Seokjin nodded petting Yeontan’s head. “That he treats you well and makes you happy.”

Taehyung pouted, leaning over to give Seokjin a huge bear hug, “I love you Big Bro, what am I gonna do without you next year?”

Seokjin frowned as well, “ I don’t wanna think about it. Anyway, do you wanna go on a run?”

“Oh my God please. I finished my last pod two days ago and I’ve been stressing out about my parents meeting Kev so much that I’ve been hitting my juul burnt and dry.” Taehyung groaned helping clean up the table.

“That’s disgusting Little,” Seokjin gagged, “C’mon, let’s go buy some. I need to get some beer for Namjoon and JK also wants some blue raspberry carts for his dab. But you don’t have to pay me back of course Little.”

Taehyung looked at Seokjin starry-eyed, “Have I ever told you that you’re the best Big in the world?”

“I already know that too, Tae.”

4-9-19

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writing-vld · 7 years ago

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Hunk x Reader: Needed a Hug

Summary: You are the most anti-social teen the paladins had ever met, and you hated physical contact with a passion. No one knew why, and no one asked. Despite those two crucial aspects about you. Hunk fell head over heels for you within hours of knowing you. One day, Lance convinces him to hug you out of the blue. Hunk thought it was a horrible idea; you hated hugs! But little did Hunk know that you were in desperate need of comfort and affection.

Word Count: 1347

Warnings: Death mention, this fluff with rot the hell out of your teeth.

Written by: Ren

A/n: I was inspired by these Hunk Hugs HCs to write this; the HCs belong to @paladinfeathers ! I would also like to dedicate this fic to @loverbug1123 : I hope things work out and I hope you feel better, boo!

You stared at the family picture you slipped into your pocket watch long ago. The constant ticking of the second hand didn’t bother you whatsoever; if anything, it brought comfort. But not the kind you needed anymore.

’Hugo (L/n)’

Your father’s name engraved on the back started a lump in your throat. You shouldn’t have this. It should be in his pocket, going wherever your father went with every step he took. Not in yours.

The small picture inside shouldn’t needed to be taped back together. Its edges shouldn’t be singed and tattered. The golden watch shouldn’t be dented and the shine should be brighter. Cars shouldn’t bend and burn like yours did. People shouldn’t leave the bar after drinking too much like she did. You shouldn’t be in space with no one to go home to like you were.

To everyone else, it looked like you were simply working on your watch and other doohickeys at your workstation. But you were actually sitting there with tears in your eyes as you remembered what it was like to be loved by your brother, kissed on the cheek by your mother, and hugged like your father. Your team didn’t know much about you; just that you didn’t like being touched, talking wasn’t your favorite sport, and that you truly wanted to be here. At least you had that going.

“Just hug her, Hunk!” Lance hissed and he peered around the corner. “Just walk up behind her and wrap your arms around her. If she likes it, she’ll cuddle. If she doesn’t-”

“Then she’ll beat the crap out of me and will never want to talk to me again.” Hunk argued against it each time Lance came up with a new argument. “Lance, I am positive that this is a bad idea. We’re trying to get her to like me, not despise my existence.” He liked you a lot, but there was literally no way for any of them to tell if you felt the same way. Or if you felt anything at all, on occasion.

Lance groaned/sighed and he was clearly grumbling. “You know what, think of it like this. You see how (Y/n)’s slouched in her seat? She could be sad. And she’s sitting alone, with no one to talk to. Now I think it is a great idea for you to go be her hero and make her feel better with one of those hugs of yours.” It was his best argument so far. And it was probably all he had left in him before he resorted to the completely unethical reasons.

That struck something in Hunk. It was stereotypical and he knew it. But just thinking of your being sad and alone made him want to run to you and make your troubles go away, but he came to his senses before that could happen.

“But what if she isn’t sad? What if she doesn’t like me-”

“You’re a nice guy, Hunk. You need a girlfriend, she needs a friend and a love interest. It’s good both ways!”

Hunk was so conflicted. He could see and understand what Lance was saying and he definitely wanted to hug you, but he was also concerned about what you were and weren’t comfortable with.

“I swear to God, Hunk, just go!” Lance got so impatient to the point where he shoved him in your direction.

Hunk turned around to snap at him, but Lance’s scowl was enough to stop him in his tracks. Your attention was completely on the beaten-up pocket watch on the table in front of you, but all Hunk could see was you.

He stared at you with slowly-growing heart eyes. It was like you two were the only ones in the universe. You were his everything and you had no clue. If you glanced at him in that moment, it would all be so obvious and clear. But you were too absorbed in the memories that haunted your heart and mind behind your beautiful (e/c) eyes.

This is such a stupid idea.

Hunk walked forward slowly and quietly as he cringed with each step. He was certain that he was going to die from an injury, embarrassment, and your eternal hatred.

She’s going to hate me... Here goes nothing...

It felt like your world exploded when a pair of arms gently wrapped around your midsection. You looked down at those arms and you realized they were Hunk’s arms, but that wasn’t what you honed it on. You were being hugged.

Hunk was more nervous than when he first faced the Galra. “You looked a little sad, so I thought y-you would want a hug...?” His voice trembled but it held sincerity. He thought he was wrong, but he was so awfully right.

It had been so long. Granted, you attacked Lance when he first tried it, but you were vulnerable now. You were in need. You forgot what receiving affection was like and you now had a reminder.

You both stood as frozen as ice, and just as he started to relax upon realizing your lack of aggression, you started to squirm. Hunk was terrified, until you turned around and... hugged him back!?

This was shocking to Hunk and Lance.

This has to be fake, there is no way (Y/n) is hugging me.

And then his heart broke when he heard you sniffle. It turns out you actually were sad and upset. He calmed down immediately and gave you a real hug no one else but Hunk could give. His hugs were special and unique, and this was just the beginning for you.

You buried your head in Hunk’s chest and you started to cry. You weren’t crying alone anymore. Someone was finally there for you. For the first time in a while, you felt safe in someone’s arms. You felt loved and cared for.

And that’s what Hunk did; loved and cared for you. "What’s wrong, (Y/n)?” He asked quietly, not caring that you were still latched on to him. He wasn’t surprised; it was obvious that you were very touch starved.

You just shook your head and sobbed. You weren’t ready to tell him yet. A part of you wanted to, and told you that it was okay to trust him and you believed that fully, but you refused to spill everything about you all at once.

Hunk respected that fully. There was no way in hell that he was going to push you until you told him. He wanted you to do it on your own time, not by force. If anyone dared to pry, he made it his mission to punt them away from you.

“It’s okay. I’m here, (Y/n), I always am.”

Those words resonated deep within you. You gave him a jumbled form of gratitude and you just stood there, reveling in the warm and comforting embrace. Oh how you missed this.

He didn’t protest as your tears dampened his shirt; it could be washed easily. His shirt be damned, you were more important than a replaceable piece of clothing. A smile from you was a sight he only saw once, but he vowed to get you to smile again.

“I forgot what hugs were like...” You whimpered against him, finding comfort in his heartbeat. “I needed one.”

Hunk was startled by your voice (you didn’t talk much at all) but he didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll always give you one. Just come to me and I’ll have one ready for you in seconds, free of charge.”

Your giggle was pure music to his ears. Hunk always dreamed of holding you in his arms. You always dreamed of being held again.

And to think that a relationship that would be brighter than the brightest star all started with a simple hug.

BONUS: ”Did that jus- no way! That is so not fair!” Lance wailed as he trudged down the hallway to give you two some time alone. “I get a broken nose, a busted lip, and a black eye. And he gets a hug back!? What kind of-”

I hope this was okay! I finished this at 3:22 AM, so I have no idea what the quality of the ending is. I hope this meets some damn good standards and I hope this makes you feel better, Jenny!

- Ren

#hunk #hunk garrett #hunk garrett x reader #hunk x reader #hunk fluff #fluff #hunk imagine #hunk garrett imagine #Voltron Imagine #voltron x reader #Voltron: Legendary Defender #voltron #voltron fluff

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the-darkness-does-not-bargain · 7 years ago

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The Fire After the War, Chapter 7

Here it is, after such a wait. Now it's Utena's turn.

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4670804/chapters/25987323

Chapter 7: 101 Dalmatians

A week passed from Thanksgiving, and December rode in on its usual bitter breeze. Utena lifted her gloved hands to her mouth and blew on them as she struggled against a strong headwind on the way back to the apartment. It wasn't a long walk, but the wind and the cold made it seem eternal, not to mention the deep growls her stomach was making. The firefighter found herself inadvertently mulling over what had transpired at her parents' house the other day. It wasn't a happy train of thought, but it had been nagging at her since the drive back, demanding her attention.

Everything had seemed to go well at the time. Anthy was winning over everyone in Utena's family and absolutely cunt-punting anyone that tried to act out of line. Watching it had made Utena very proud and viciously pleased. Dinner went very well, and even the awkward questions about Akio didn't seem to shake Anthy. Getting chewed out by her mother afterward hadn't been fun, but Utena's reasoning was sound and nothing would convince her otherwise. She had hoped to steer away any conversation that veered too close to the subject, but when Uncle Petyr started asking about Ohtori directly, she couldn't find a way to subtly change the subject. Thus, she was left having to watch Anthy smoothly handle everything, all while feeling a knot of dread in her stomach as things moved further and further out of her control. She'd felt guilty at the time, despite Anthy's insistence that it hadn't been an issue. Now, in retrospect, she wondered just how sincere Anthy had been in her reassurances.

The outburst---Utena didn't like that word; it felt wrong for the situation---was, of course, completely unexpected. The accusations---that wasn't the right word either---the admission of jealousy, and then the personal feelings that Anthy had revealed with such difficulty; they haunted Utena's mind as she turned onto the next block.

Danny made Anthy jealous, Danny of all people. Anthy was jealous because she was afraid. Utena was sure of that, whether it was really because of Danny or not. Anthy was afraid, and she was reacting badly to it. Utena counted a hundred possible reasons why, and too many fit with what Anthy revealed about herself and her past. Anthy was scared of losing her to someone else. A ridiculous fear, but Utena supposed she could understand where it came from. Anthy had said that nothing belonged to her before Utena, and the other woman believed it.

She felt an annoying stinging in her eyes when she thought of the former Rose Bride and her deprived life, existing with nothing to her name, not even enough to hold her to the physical world in some instances. Like a ghost. Transient, Utena thought proudly when she remembered the word. It had been on an old word-of-the-day calendar she'd had years ago.

No longer the Rose Bride, she pondered sadly. That should mean something beyond existing as more than a phantom. Anthy needed something more, something else to tie her to her life. Yet, at the same time, Anthy's freedom was very new after god knows how many years of imprisonment. She was clearly still adjusting to her new situation, with more success in certain areas than others. Utena was hesitant to make real suggestions. Yes, she encouraged Anthy to go outside, explore, and grow the scope of her world, but she was scared to propose any specific course of action. Who could say what might tear up an old wound, turn a hairline fracture into a shattered bone, or infect a healing burn? One wrong step could send Anthy falling, maybe beyond the point that she could ever recover again. Utena shuddered at the thought. Still, they wouldn't make any progress at all if they just sat around, too afraid to try anything. "What a conundrum," she murmured, remembering another word from that calendar.

Her worried musings carried her the rest of the way back to her apartment. She breathed a sigh of relief when she entered the warm lobby, crossing to the rickety old elevator and pressing the button for her floor. Creaking and shuddering, it carried her upwards as she tried to cheer up, at least on the surface.

She walked in to the apartment to find Anthy mulling over newspapers at the kitchen table. She had a pen out and was circling certain parts. Utena realized that it was the ad section.

"Are you looking at jobs?" She asked as she pulled out the open chair and sat down. She had to lift up her arm to let Chu Chu through with a pen of his own.

"Yes…" Anthy said slowly as she scanned a column. "I heard that they offer jobs in newspapers these days, so I thought I might look at them." She glanced up briefly and then went back to scanning. "I thought I might take you up on your challenge."

"Did I issue a challenge?" Utena didn't remember anything like that. Was she talking about that night?

"Yes," Anthy confirmed. She sat back. "You said I should try to get out more. I thought I just might."

Hmm. Utena picked up a paper. "Well, what have you been looking at?" She asked cautiously.

"There are so many," Anthy said, sounding genuinely surprised. There was wonder in her voice. Utena couldn't say she had heard that before. How would she react if she knew how many jobs were posted online? "But I was thinking about putting in an application to that flower shop down the street. It says here that they're looking for help." She pointed to the passage in question. The ink circle around that was especially thick. "I was also considering this grocery store. They say they offer $7.25 an hour. Sounded promising…"

Utena's brow furrowed, and rightly so, but Anthy continued on without noticing. It wasn't until Utena gently took the newspaper from her and commandeered Chu Chu's pen that her girlfriend quieted. Utena used the pen and put an X over the grocery store ad as well as any other ads that advertised $7.25 an hour.

"What are you doing?" Anthy asked, and she sounded mildly affronted. Utena looked up at her. She didn't want to burst her bubble, especially when the older woman sounded so active and even excited, but she had to make her aware of this if nothing else.

"Babe, do you know what minimum wage is?"

"Minimum wage?" Utena's prediction was correct. Anthy looked confused. She was innocent in this, still unaware of many inner workings of the mundane, even after nine years.

Utena sighed. "Minimum wage is the lowest legal wage an employer can offer an employee. It's the lowest of the low in this country. It's almost not enough to live on."

"So what… are you saying?" Anthy asked.

"I'm saying that you shouldn't waste your time with jobs like that when there are better options." Utena paused. "You could also wait. There's no need to jump in so quickly. We're not rich but we won't be out on the street any time soon."

"What are you saying?" That again. How to answer…

"Just that, you don't need to worry about things here, if you are. You can just relax if you want. Take it slow, you know?"

"Are you saying I shouldn't look for a job?" Uh oh, it was a trap. Utena had never been very good at avoiding those. Let's see if she could get out of this one. The firefighter turned back to her, frowning. Anthy was watching her carefully, showing nothing, but no doubt cataloguing every word and reaction. Once upon a time, Utena wouldn't have noticed cues like that, but she wasn't an oblivious teenager anymore.

"No," she said firmly. "I'm saying that you should be careful not to do too much too soon. You're strong, Anthy, but everyone has their limits. They can be difficult to change. I don't want to see you crash and burn."

"Crash and burn?"

"It's an expression. Look, jobs are good, but they're tough. Jobs like these, where you have to deal with and talk to people every day, they can be difficult. You admitted yourself that you have a problem with crowds. Jobs like these are crowds all the time. If you're still having problems with that, jumping into a job like this honestly isn't going to help you. It might actually make it worse." Utena ran a hand through her hair. "It's good to do things slowly every once and a while. And don't say 'I told you so', because I already know."

"Baby steps. Isn't that what you said?" Anthy was still watching her, waiting to see if she would say something stupid and ruin this or maybe make it through cleanly after all.

"That's right," Utena said, standing resolved. Her expression softened. "I want you to be able to do everything you've ever wanted. I'll do what's in my power to get you there. But there is something to be said for caution, acting responsibly." She smiled shyly. "I know that's a strange thing to hear from me. I know you want to tell me to take my own advice; I can see it in your eyes. I think that this must be in some part because of what happened last week, and I just want you to take things at a good pace."

Anthy sat back, and she seemed to be mulling over something. She glanced down at the table and then to the pen still resting in her hand. Utena waited, feeling a little strange just standing there. It seemed like several minutes had passed before Anthy finally looked up at her; it couldn't have been, surely, but it felt that way.

"So what would you suggest?" Anthy asked slowly.

Utena let out a breath through her nose, thinking quickly and carefully. When the idea came to her, she snapped her fingers. "I might know a good place for you to apply," she said. "I gotta take a walk. I'll be back in a bit."

"Should I order something for us?" Anthy asked as she watched her girlfriend grab her coat.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Utena said as she tied her shoes. "I shouldn't be gone too long. 30 minutes tops. You should give some thought to your resume while I'm out."

She was halfway out the door when she heard Anthy mutter, "Resume?"

Oh boy.

Four days later, Anthy was standing in front the Fair Friends Animal Clinic. She was dressed in a pretty pink suit and jacket that Utena had never seen before. Her hair was up in a ponytail; at least as much as a single hair tie could bind such a powerful mane. She was wearing the cute little beret she had worn on the day they had first found each other again. She wore white shoes that, amazingly, miraculously, managed not to get dirty at all on the walk down here. Probably magic, Utena thought. She looked up to watch Anthy's face. She might not even know she's doing it.

Anthy's expression was one of unadulterated apprehension, bordering on fear. Her posture was tense and she was standing very still. She was clutching a manila folder to her chest. It held her resume, a hastily constructed thing that they had spent a full evening poring over. The paper didn't look too bad, all things considered, but Utena was concerned about the amount of information Anthy seemed to make up out of the blue. She was also worried that the paper would horribly deform if her girlfriend held it to her body any tighter.

"Anthy," Utena said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. "What is it?"

Anthy looked down at the street, and her hands were shaking. "You were right," she murmured, almost too softly for Utena to catch. "I'm not ready for this yet." Anthy's self-defeating habit was becoming increasingly noticeable.

Utena stepped in front of her and lifted up Anthy's chin. Utena smiled reassuringly. "Crowds are no good, I know. They might not be for some time yet. But fortunately, this job doesn't handle crowds. Of people anyway." She mimicked exaggerated breathing motions. "Take a deep breath. You're going to be great. Look," she said, pointing to the window of the clinic and into the clinic itself. "There's a grand total of six people in that waiting room, and that's it. And look at those dogs." Utena wrapped an arm around Anthy's shoulders and smiled brightly. "Look at that big blonde one. Isn't she beautiful? Or, ooo, look at that little guy in the cage. He must be riled up about something cuz he's barking like crazy. Heh, I feel kind of embarrassed for his owner. And there's---" She was cut off when she heard a soft, shaky laugh.

Anthy was laughing, leaning against Utena. The sound was a little breathless and it stuttered, matching the shaking in the older woman's shoulders. Utena waited, lowering her hand.

The woman next to her carefully dabbed tears out of the corner of her eyes and looked up with a smile. "Thank you," she said turning to embrace Utena fully. The firefighter returned it, still trying not to squish the documents in between them.

"You're going to do great, babe," Utena repeated encouragingly. "Just wow them like you do everyone else. It's natural for you."

"Thank you, darling." Visibly gathering herself, Anthy smiled at her girlfriend before turning back to the door of the clinic. "I guess I'll be done in half an hour. That's how long these take, right?"

"On average, yeah. I'll get us something to eat while you're in there. Gilardi's okay?"

"Yes, that will be fine."

"Okay, I'll see you in a little bit." One last grin, tinged with nerves, and then Anthy practically marched up to the glass door and went inside. Utena stayed standing on the sidewalk for another second or two, and then she began her walk down to the restaurant.

The delicious smell of sandwiches, a little bickering with George, and enjoying the heat of the room left her feeling more cheerful. She waited to order the food until it was closer to time and when it came out she grabbed the bag and strolled out of the shop. Arriving at the clinic again, she leaned against a parking meter and checked her watch as she thought over what was going on.

She chose the clinic because it was the least of many evils. Anthy didn't like people, but she loved animals. She knew how to take care of animals, and Utena had never seen her happier at Ohtori than when she was with her unusual pets. Come to think of it, all she ever had were unusual pets. Weird even. Fitting, she thought, and smiled. Weird pets for a weird girl.

Who could say if this kind of job would suit Anthy in the slightest? The Rose Bride would have put up with anything, did put up with anything, but what could Anthy handle? Utena sighed, checking her watch a second time. She supposed they would just have to wait and see.

Anthy emerged from the clinic fifteen minutes later, and Utena pushed off the parking meter where she had been waiting. She watched her girlfriend's face carefully as she approached her. Anthy noticed, and to Utena's surprise, she started to laugh. The dark woman's free hand hovered over her mouth as she laughed openly. Utena was relieved, and she smiled as she wrapped her arms around Anthy.

"What're you giggling about, missy?" She said, in a funny accent that made Anthy laugh harder into her shoulder. People looked their way oddly, but Utena ignored them. Anthy pulled back and kissed her on the cheek.

"Your face," she chuckled. "Were you worried for me, Utena?"

The firefighter shrugged. "Not too much. Just wanted to know you were okay." She kissed Anthy's temple, eliciting a peaceful sigh from the witch.

"Thank you for your concern, my love. But you were right. It went swimmingly. I feel… good."

"Glad to hear it. Hopefully, you'll hear back from them soon. Meantime, you still hungry?"

Anthy got the job. It didn't surprise Utena in the slightest, of course, but she was surprised at just how quick the call back was. She supposed Anthy, in her special way, made a better impression than most.

She started the following Monday, walking with a barely perceptible bounce in her step that made Utena smile. Anthy was excited, nervous yet happy, and seeing it was so new and wonderful that Utena couldn't help but bounce too. Her worries had been replaced with cautious optimism, knowing that Anthy would thrive in an environment with more animals than people. Anthy still wasn't quite comfortable walking outside alone, so Utena accompanied her on her own way to work. When they arrived at the clinic, Anthy turned around to face Utena and took a careful breath.

Utena smiled encouragingly and rubbed her shoulders. "Are you ready?" She asked.

Anthy exhaled and nodded. "Yes."

"Good," Utena said, withdrawing her hands and putting them in her pockets. "If you get some time during your lunch break or something, throw a phone call my way. Let me know how the day is going."

"Of course, darling," Anthy said. After pecking Utena once on the cheek, she turned and walked into the clinic. Utena stood silently for a moment, staring at the door as it slowly closed, before she too turned to continue her way to the firehouse a few blocks down the street.

She pushed through the front door and immediately went over to the dispatch desk, where an older woman sat typing briskly on a keyboard. Her hair was dyed bright orange to hide the gray underneath and she wore exquisite make-up to cover up the little wrinkles that lined her face.

"Morning, Mary Ellen," Utena greeted, leaning against the wall next to the desk.

"Oh, good morning, baby girl!" Mary Ellen responded enthusiastically. Her voice was as rough as the gravel the team tracked in every time they came back from a call. Whenever someone pointed out the irony of her career choice, Mary Ellen would always say "Smoking is like a first husband: complete trash but hard to throw out." Utena thought it made her uniquely qualified for her position as the best damn dispatcher in the county. "Didya have a good Thanksgiving, sweetie?"

Utena shrugged. "As good as ever. What about you? Were you able to see your grandkids?"

"Oh now that's a story!" Mary Ellen said with a laugh. "But you've got no time for that now. Come visit me during lunch. I'll talk your ear off!"

Utena snickered as she was waved off. She walked out of the dispatch office and down the main hallway of the station to where the common area was. She could already see some of her team sitting in the set of couches and armchairs, watching footage from yesterday's rounds on a big flat screen. They looked around when she made noise by pulling out a chair from the lunch table to watch.

"Hey, girl," greeted Henry as he reached one burly arm back to high five her. Next to him was David, who turned around to fist-bump her in way of greeting. In the armchair to the right of the screen sat Antonia, the only other female fighter at their station. Antonia was much like Utena herself, a tall and muscular woman with flowing black hair and golden dark skin denoting her strong Italian heritage.

"You're rolling in a little late this morning, ain't ya?" Antonia commented.

Utena shrugged. "Had to see my girlfriend off to her new job. She's still getting used to the city." That was putting it mildly. Utena turned to face the last member of the team present in the room. "Morning, Ricardo," she said, watching the man in the other armchair.

"Morning," he said without looking away from the television screen. No one could kick him for his tone choice, but it was obvious to anyone with ears that he was trying to ignore her. David certainly noticed, and he reached back to give Utena a sympathetic thunk on the back.

Utena sighed softly, trying not to let frustration poison her mood. Ricardo was her ex. Okay, well, not her "ex" exactly. They were never even close to being an item, whatever he may have thought. He was the first part of the double fling Utena had had last summer. They had shared a single night together, both of them drunk and making poor decisions in a dive bar. She regretted it dearly, especially when he seemed to take it as cue to ask her out. She didn't remember much of that night, but she thought she had told him nothing else could happen. In any case, it was far from her finest moment, and Utena worried over how long the ice between them would last. Nothing would change today, though, so she tried to put it aside.

The morning progressed sluggishly, with no calls coming in. Utena had backed out of playing cards with David, instead sitting alone in one of the armchairs, nursing a cup of coffee. She didn't much care for coffee, but had learned to put up with it when she found she couldn’t stomach tea after waking up in the hospital. It took several years for her to overcome that strange aversion, and by then she'd been drinking coffee too long to pull away from it. Tea was still unbearable in summer, which didn't help anything.

She let out a slow, quiet breath. Summer. She hated it, and that never failed to make her sad. She didn't remember much of her birth parents anymore, nothing more than half-imagined flashes and approximations, but she remembered that she used to love summer. The sun, the heat, vacations, and all that. But ever since Ohtori, summer was something to be dreaded, a weighty and lingering curse, unavoidable and unforgiving. Utena never felt more alone nor more hopeless than when she could feel the heat in the air and look up into a bright blue sky.

She'd heard of seasonal depression, sure, everyone had, but all of those stories were about winter; scientists talking about vitamin deficiencies and the psychological impact of colder temperatures and less daylight. Can't relate, she thought with bitter humor. Since Ohtori, she preferred the cold. Since Ohtori, she preferred the dark.

The first episode hit hard and fast with the end of May nine years ago. She had been sent to her first foster home, and though most of her memories were hazy she clearly recalled the desolation she felt in every sultry afternoon, the sharp-edged emptiness that she could not explain to anyone, least of all herself. When her mood had begun to improve with the first morning frost, she had rejoiced, thinking the trouble over, only for the next May to drag her back down mercilessly. Each subsequent summer was worse than the last without fail, as her memories returned and the feeling of her loss intensified. Things came to a head this past summer before she ran into Ricardo by chance while getting smashed. Maybe the alcohol was ultimately to blame, but as they drank and talked and fucked, he made her forget her jagged past, her shattered heart, and the rope she had bought from the hardware store just hours earlier. Utena had never told Ricardo exactly what he did for her that night. She wasn't certain how he would respond to such a confession, so she kept it to herself.

Her coffee was getting cold. She grimaced and got up to toss it out. She made a mental note to ask Mary Ellen to buy some tea. She noticed it was lunchtime when she checked her watch, and went to grab the food she had packed. Her phone rang just as she was sitting down at the table. "Hey, babe," she greeted Anthy as her free hand unwrapped her meal.

"Hello, darling." Anthy's lovely voice brought speedy relief to Utena, as it always did. "How are things at the station?"

"Eh, boring, no action yet today. But what about you? Save any fluffy lives yet?" She joked.

Over the line, Anthy giggled. "Nothing so dramatic, just simple appointments."

"Dogs? Cats? Unicorns?" Utena smiled widely as Anthy laughed again.

"If someone brings in a unicorn, you'll be the first to know. Two cats and three dogs. Someone had a beautiful python, but I wasn't able to help with that one."

"Figures you'd be more interested in the unusual pet," Utena teased.

"Oh the dogs and cats were lovely too," Anthy said. "But it's been a busy morning. Did you remember to eat?"

"Eating right now, babe. You?"

"Yes. I only have an hour to eat. Is that common in this world?"

"Kind of, yeah. Most places give you 45 minutes to an hour."

"How quaintly arbitrary," Anthy commented.

Utena chuckled. "Probably don't let your boss hear you say that, just to be safe. Speaking of, how are your coworkers? Things going well?"

"As far as introductions go, yes. They seem… amiable." There was a pause, and Utena could picture Anthy sitting at a table with her phone and her salad and that trademark pensive expression on her face.

"Well, that's good to hear. Do you have to get back to work soon?" She asked after peeking at her watch.

"In a moment," Anthy said. "What shall we do tonight, my love?"

Utena hummed thoughtfully. "You ever seen 101 Dalmatians?"

"That's an oddly specific number of Dalmatians to see tog---"

"No, no, babe! The movie, 101 Dalmatians," Utena clarified with a laugh.

"Oh. Then no, darling, I haven't."

"That's our plan for the evening," Utena said, grinning.

"Very well, Utena. I… look forward to it. But I should get back to my duties. Be safe, my love."

"You too, Anthy. Watch out for Jack Russell Terriers. I hear they like to bite. Love you."

"I love you too. See you soon!"

"Bye," Utena said before she hung up. One conversation with Anthy, and just like that her day was good again. She hoped that never changed. Anthy's voice was like a brisk hand batting away the sadness and frustrations bothering Utena like insects, letting her finish her food in peace. There still hadn't been any calls for their team, so Utena took a little extra time before she went to work on the trucks.

The thought of summer still lingered. Utena wondered what might happen next summer, now that Anthy was here at her side. It was her grief that dragged her down so deep into the abyss, her pain over losing Anthy and her self-loathing over her many failures. The guilt, not unlike a million swords, was pervasive and ever-present. But Anthy was here now. Anthy was here, safe, free, and she didn't blame Utena for what had happened. Amazing, really, that Anthy could be so forgiving, dismissive even, of her mistakes. Utena did not agree, but it was hard to be angry about the warmth and peace forgiveness brought.

Summer was a long ways off, but for the first time in a decade, Utena felt herself looking forward to it. Tentatively, with extreme caution, but with surging hope as well. If she had Anthy, she could survive it. If she had Anthy, she could survive anything. She was sure of that.

Suddenly the bells in the station were ringing, and she jumped to her feet. She strode to the suit-up station and threw on her gear before running out to the trucks. Mary Ellen told them the address over the radio as they peeled out from the garage. Utena settled into her working groove, becoming alert and focused, but not before she had a cheerful thought about 101 Dalmatians.

#the fire after the war #my writing #revolutionary girl utena #utena tenjou #anthy himemiya

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