#and if I sleep on my back I’ll get a head ache because everything will be clogged at the bridge of my nose

[valewritessss]

Currently have a runny nose and I regret not appreciating the moments I could actually breathe without alerting everyone in the room of my cold

[maxtermind]

absolutely loved ‘baby, would i still be your lover’, everyone single one got me in my feels! i was wondering would you consider doing a part 2? whether it ends in angst or fluff

I'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

★ : summary :: when he accidentally insults you during an argument- aftermath ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: hurt/comfort, hints of angst ★ : word count :: 4.3k ★ : a/n :: thank you so much for the love on part 1 💓 some of these have open ending so you can pick whether you'd like to forgive them or not as a reader!! feedback is appreciated :)

( part 1 )

Max Verstappen

You sighed as you sat down to have your morning tea as usual, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. As if you hadn't spent all night long getting your phone spammed with calls that you were ignoring.

After mindlessly roaming around for a bit, you eventually decided to crash at your best friend’s place. You lazily waved at her as she frantically got ready to leave for work. However, you were on your tiptoe as soon as the door opened.

A body that was possibly sleeping while leaning against the door fell inside and you heard curses that you were quite too familiar with. Your heart clenched at the sight of your boyfriend - or perhaps now, your ex-boyfriend - on his knees, nursing the wound on his head. The ache of seeing him in pain reignited the anguish you thought you had left behind.

“Okay,” you heard your friend murmur. “I'm gonna let you guys get to it.” She was out the door a second later.

You looked at the closed door instead of the man who was desperately trying to make eye contact with you.

“How long have you…” You trailed off before deciding that you didn't want to know.

“As soon as you turned your phone off, Y/N! I've been here since last night.” "Why?" you choked out, the words barely escaping your lips as tears threatened to overflow. His brows furrowed before he ran his hands over his face and got up to sit right next to you. You saw his hand itching toward yours and instinctively pulled it towards your body. "Because I needed to see you in person, to talk." He took another deep breath and you later realized that he was trying to stop himself from crying. “I realize I messed up, baby. I.. I never should have let you walk out.” But his attempt to mend the shattered pieces of your relationship only served to reopen the wounds, your walls instinctively rising in defense,"Talk? You think a talk is going to fix everything?" Max's eyes were filled with a mix of regret and desperation as he reached out for your hand, his fingers trembling slightly. "No, I don't think a talk will magically fix everything," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion.

"But it's a start. I need you to know that I'm truly sorry for what happened. I hate myself for hurting you, for making you doubt how much you mean to me."

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, the pain of the previous night still too fresh in your mind.

“How can I trust you again, Max? How can I be sure that this won't happen again?" Your voice was barely a whisper, filled with the ache of betrayal.

Max's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I know I've messed up, Y/N. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn back your trust. I'll work on my temper, I’ll be better to you, I'll do anything you ask of me. I just need you to give me another chance." “You know you’ve always been the best to me, right? I just can’t believe that instead of talking it out yesterday, you straight up skipped to breaking up wit-” Fresh tears started falling down your cheeks. Max immediately leaned forward to hold you in his arms and you let him because you needed him. But how could you trust him again? How could you be sure that history wouldn't repeat itself? That he won’t throw away your whole relationship just because the anger got a hold of him? As Max held you close, you felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over you. Part of you wanted to push him away, to scream and shout at him for causing you so much pain. But another part of you craved his warmth, his touch, his presence.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Max whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I know I messed up, and I hate myself for it. I never meant to hurt you, I swear."

You buried your face in his chest, the tears soaking through his shirt as you struggled to make sense of your feelings.

“I just don't know if I can do this anymore, Max," you admitted, your voice muffled against him. Max tightened his embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "I understand," he murmured, his voice gentle. His admission eased your thumping heart a bit, you were glad to have him back. The storm within you finding a momentary calm.

"I made you feel like our relationship was disposable, like breaking up was no big deal. But that couldn't be further from the truth. You're the most important person in my life, baby and the thought of losing you terrifies me. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us, to show you just how much you mean to me. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust if you still want me."

Lewis Hamilton

The weight of Lewis's words hung heavy in the air, suffocating you as you retreated into the sanctuary of your bedroom. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, your heart aching with a pain you couldn't quite comprehend. How had a day that started with such a promise turned into this? You buried your face in your hands, the sting of Lewis's words feeling like acid running through your veins.

Outside the door, the silence was deafening, broken only by the muffled sound of your sobs. Lewis stood frozen in place, his mind racing as he replayed the exchange in his head.

He couldn't believe the words that had escaped his lips, couldn't fathom how he had allowed his frustration to morph into such hurtful remarks.

Minutes stretched into eternity as Lewis grappled with the weight of his actions, the gravity of his words settling like a lead weight in his chest.

He wanted to reach out to you, to apologize and make things right, but his feet remained rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the magnitude of his mistake.

Inside the bedroom, you were consumed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, betrayal - they all swirled together into an ugly monster, threatening to engulf you whole.

How could the man you loved, the man who had always been your rock, turn on you with such venom?

But beneath the anger and hurt, there was a flicker of doubt, a gnawing fear that maybe Lewis's words held a grain of truth. Maybe you were too insecure, too needy, too demanding. Maybe you were asking for too much, expecting him to be there for you when he had his own priorities and responsibilities. Maybe-

The sound of a soft knock on the door snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to see Lewis standing there, his expression wrought with regret and guilt. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the unspoken apology hanging heavy in the air. Looking at him distraught made your chest feel worse. How could he make you feel ten fold worse than this and not feel a thing? 

"I'm sorry," Lewis finally whispered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't mean what I said. I was out of line, and I know I hurt you. Please, let me make it right." He rushed through the words.

His words pierced through the haze of your pain, and you felt a bit of heaviness leaving your body. He crossed the room in a few strides, dropping to his knees in front of you, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. 

"I don't know what came over me," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion before your boyfriend took your hand away from your face and kissed your cheeks. "I was so caught up in my own frustrations that I lashed out at you, and I hate myself for it. You don't deserve to be treated that way, especially not by me."

You studied his face, searching for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was genuine remorse and regret. And despite the pain still raw in your chest, you couldn't deny the love you felt for him, the longing to mend what had been broken between you. “You hurt me,” you whispered but didn’t push him away as he laid down with you, holding you close to his chest. Some of your resolve wavering when you felt his fast heartbeat. “I wanted you there so much.” He nodded as he shushed you, his own eyes dropping tears. “I’m so so sorry, baby. I can't even begin to express how deeply I regret the way I acted the whole day, I know you deserve so much more but-” You shifted slightly, knowing all that you wanted right now was comfort, you didn't want to forgive him or minimize the weight of his actions. "I don't know if I can right now," you replied, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions.

Lewis's eyes brimmed with tears as he whispered, "Please don't shut me out. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

You felt a pang of guilt at the pain evident in his voice. "I just need some time to process everything," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I understand," Lewis replied, his tone filled with sorrow. "But please know that I'm here whenever you're ready to talk."

You nodded, silently acknowledging his words as you allowed yourself to be enveloped in his comforting embrace. 

"I promise to make it up to you," Lewis vowed earnestly, his voice laced with determination. "I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust."

"I want to believe you," you admitted quietly, your heart heavy with uncertainty. Everything was a little too raw right now and your emotions were all over the place.

"I'll spend every moment proving it to you," Lewis declared, his eyes locking with yours in a silent vow.

“I was thoughtless and cruel today, and I never should have let those words leave my lips. You are not insecure, you are strong and resilient, baby. You deserve so much better than the hurtful words I spoke. Please know that I can’t lose you, Y/N. I will work tirelessly to regain your trust and rebuild what I have so carelessly shattered. You mean the world to me, and I will spend every moment striving to be worthy of your love.”

Carlos Sainz

As you sat nervously in your childhood home, the familiar sights and sounds providing little comfort, your mind raced with thoughts of disappointment and hurt.

For the third time, Carlos had failed to join you in meeting your parents, leaving you to face their questioning looks and unspoken concerns alone. You had rehearsed what you would say to them, how you would explain his absence, but each time, the words caught in your throat, choked by a mixture of frustration and sadness. For the past few days since you walked out of your apartment, you had been ignoring Carlos’ attempts to reconcile with you. The calls and texts he spammed you with were ignored and curses left your mouth as soon as your mind went back to the day of the argument, bringing unwanted tears to your eyes.

In the passing, you saw a Ferrari conference being conducted and as much as you wanted to reach out and talk it out with him, your heart did flips that you were sure you should have visited a doctor for.

Your parents, ever perceptive, noticed your unease as you fidgeted with the napkin in your lap, casting worried glances in your direction. You tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it faltered, betraying the turmoil within you.

How could you explain to them that the man you loved couldn't find the time to meet them, despite his promises and assurances? "What's wrong, sweetie?" your mom asked, concern evident in her voice.

You sighed, hesitating for a moment before replying, "It's Carlos... He like…"

Your dad's brow furrowed. "Is everything okay?"

You tried to muster a reassuring smile. "Yeah, he said that he got caught up with work. You know how busy he is with his racing and all..." Your dad’s brows furrowed when you trailed off, about to ask you what exactly you meant but just as you were steeling yourself to broach the subject, the doorbell rang, startling you from your thoughts.

Your heart sank as you realized it was likely a neighbor stopping by to meet you since you don’t visit that often, you stood up to go greet them. But then, to your disbelief, you heard his voice drifting through the door, before you saw your boyfriend standing right behind it. Your head titled in confusion and you drew a breath that took most of the stress from the previous days away from your body.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, his tone apologetic yet determined. Carlos took your hand and kissed it lightly,"Traffic was a nightmare." “What about the conference that you-” “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N.” He cut you off before pulling you in and walking to the dining room that was in his vision. As if that was the answer to your question.

You turned to face him, your eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of hope. There he was, looking slightly disheveled but undeniably earnest, his gaze that locked on yours was as if it was seeking forgiveness. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the regret etched in the lines of his face.

Your parents exchanged a glance, their expressions softening as they took in the sight of Carlos standing before them. 

Despite their reservations about his repeated absences, they couldn't deny the genuine affection that Carlos held in his eyes when he looked at you.

Before you could find the words to respond, Carlos took a step forward, his hand reaching out tentatively. "I'm really sorry, both of you," he said, addressing your parents directly.

"I know how important this is to you, and I should have made more of an effort to be here on time."

His words hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of his shortcomings and a pledge to do better. You felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you, a mixture of relief, gratitude, and a glimmer of renewed faith in your relationship. "Well, we're just glad you could make it," your dad said, offering Carlos a handshake.

"Thank you for coming, Carlos," your mother said, her voice warm yet cautious. "We understand that life gets busy, but it's important to make time for the people who matter most."

Carlos nodded, his expression earnest as he met her gaze. "I couldn't agree more. Family means putting in effort, I promise to make it up to all of you."

As you sat down to dinner, the atmosphere was tinged with a sense of reconciliation and hope. Your hand still intertwined with his as you saw him charm your family. Despite the rocky start, Carlos's presence brought a newfound sense of unity and understanding to the table. And as you shared stories and laughter, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to mend what had seemed irreparably broken.

In that moment, you realized that love wasn't just about grand gestures or sweeping declarations—it was about the everyday moments of connection and compromise, the willingness to forgive and grow together.

And as you looked at Carlos, his eyes filled with determination and affection, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand.

Charles Leclerc

Charles had apologized right after he had said those words and though you had both fallen back into routine, the underlying bitterness and resentment was still present. You weren’t the one initiating any kind of affection from your side and every time Charles was initiating anything, you half assed your way out of it. Was it childish? Probably. But you were still not comfortable with how easily you had forgiven Charles, burying your hurt just to avoid conflict once again despite knowing deep down that he has hurt you probably more than anyone else ever has. These thoughts were running through your head as you sat beside Charles, your heart still heavy with the weight, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. Especially because Charles seemed distant, his mind preoccupied with thoughts, that you couldn't help but wonder what exactly they were. Why had he even asked to go on a date today? To break up with you? Suddenly, Pippa appeared, her presence causing the knot to form in your stomach to get tighter. She approached with a confident stride, a charming smile gracing her lips as she greeted Charles with a hug.

"Hey, Charlie!" Pippa exclaimed, her eyes flickering briefly in your direction before returning to Charles. "Long time no see!"

Charles returned her hug, though his embrace seemed somewhat forced. "Hey, Pippa. Yeah, it's been a while." 

You observed their interaction closely, your unease growing with each passing moment. Pippa's presence always seemed to unsettle you, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their friendship than met the eye. Was he gonna break up with you in public and confess his years long feelings for Pippa? Charles glanced at you, his expression softening as he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I was just out with Y/N today."

You couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth at his actions, his affectionate gesture soothing some of the tension that had been building between you.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Pippa said, offering you a friendly smile. "Sorry I didn’t see you next to Charlie."

You returned her smile, though it didn't quite reach your eyes and managed to reply without gagging. "Nice to meet you, Pippa." Charles tightened his grip on your hand, silently reassuring you of his presence and support. "We were just grabbing a coffee," he explained, his gaze flickering between you and Pippa. "Care to join us?"

Pippa hesitated for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced at you before turning back to Charles. "Actually, I was hoping we could catch up alone, if that's okay."

You felt a pang of anxiety at her words, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of your stomach. Despite your reservations, you nodded, forcing a smile as you released Charles's hand. It was better to walk away yourself than to have Charles dismiss you.

"Of course," you said, though your voice sounded strained even to your own ears. "I'll wait for you outside."

Charles shot you an alarmed look as you stood up,”I’ll see you in a few.” Charles’ hand lingered on yours for a moment longer before you reluctantly let go and made your way to the door.

You leaned against your car and enjoyed the wind for a second. You couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the exchange between your boyfriend and his best friend sitting inside.

You were half scared to find them kissing or something but, instead a sense of confusion washed over you as you watched the way Pippa was angrily point a finger at Charles and scream at him.

It was a second later when she stormed out before making her way towards you.

"Is he doing this because of you?!" Pippa's accusatory tone sent a shiver down your spine, her words hitting too close to home.

Before you could even process what was happening, Charles emerged from the cafe, his expression determined as he approached you and Pippa.

"Go home, Pippa," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument as he intertwined his hand with yours.

Pippa's eyes blazed with anger, her fists clenched at her sides as she glared at Charles. "You will regret this, Charles!" she spat before storming off, leaving you both standing there in stunned silence.

Once Pippa was out of sight, you turned to Charles, your heart pounding in your chest. "What was that all about?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you with apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, Y/N. Pippa has been... difficult lately."

You frowned, your mind reeling with confusion and frustration. "Difficult how?"

Charles hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching yours as if trying to find the right words. "She's been pushing boundaries, trying to come between us. But I won't let her." 

"Hey," he continued, taking your hand in his. "I told Pippa that I wouldn't be spending time with her alone anymore. If she can't accept you, then it's better for us to not be friends at all."

You blinked in surprise, a rush of gratitude flooding through you at his words. "Really?"

Charles nodded, squeezing your hand gently. "Really. You're the most important person in my life, and I won't let anyone come between us."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. "Thank you, Charles. I appreciate you standing up for us."

He smiled softly, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "I'll always stand up for us, Y/N. You mean everything to me."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you threw your arms around him, holding him close. Despite the lingering bitterness and resentment, you couldn't deny the overwhelming love you felt for him in that moment.

Lando Norris

As you stepped out of the taxi, the cool night air enveloped you, offering a moment of respite from the whirlwind of emotions that had engulfed you throughout the evening.

Your heart still felt heavy with the weight of Lando's hurtful words, but beneath the pain, a numbness resided- knowing deep down that you might’ve just broken up with your boyfriend.

Before you could take another step, you heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching from behind. Turning around, you saw Lando rushing towards you, his eyes filled with remorse and his expression wrought with sorrow. Your hand instinctively went to your chest, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

"Y/N, please wait," he called out, his voice pleading as he reached your side, breathless from his haste.

You pulled your face to meet his eyes, uncertainty and wariness etched into your features as you met his gaze. Part of you yearned to turn away, to shield yourself from the pain of his words, but another part couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, he was sincere in his apology.

"Lando," you said softly, your voice tinged with a mixture of hurt and apprehension. You wanted to say more but the damn ball in your throat stopped you doing so.

He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours as he searched for the right words to express the depth of his regret. "I know I messed up, Y/N. I hurt you, and I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for that."

His words washed over you like a soothing balm, offering a sliver of comfort. But still, you couldn't bring yourself to let go of the hurt that lingered in your heart.

"I should have been there for you tonight, supporting you and showing you how much you mean to me," Lando continued, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "Instead, I let my own selfishness and insecurities get in the way, and for that, I am truly sorry."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to him, the sincerity in his voice echoing the ache in your own heart. You were sure you’ll regret letting go of this amazing relationship without at least attempting to work on it.

Despite the pain he had caused you, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to rebuild what had been broken.

"I don't expect you to forgive me right away, Y/N," Lando said softly, his hands shaking and showcasing the intensity of his vulnerability.

"I know I have a lot of work to do to earn back your trust and your love. But please, just give me a chance to make things right. I promise to do whatever it takes to show you how much you mean to me, every single day for the rest of my life."

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and remorse, leaving you torn between the desire to hold onto the pain of the past and the hope for a brighter future. As you gazed into his eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity or deceit, all you found was raw honesty and unwavering devotion.

With a heavy heart and a flicker of hope, you reached out to take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you just yet, Lando," you whispered, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Lando takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. "I'll spend every moment proving I'm worthy of your love, Y/N. Let me show you how much you mean to me, starting from this moment. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust, even if it means giving you the space you need. Just know that I'm here for you, whenever you're ready."

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。PRINCESS — GETO SUGURU.

contents. non curse! au, dad! suguru, mom + fem! reader, reader is referred to as “mommy” and “wife,” life with your daughters nanako and mimiko <3, embarrassingly self-indulgent once again

suguru is prideful—you have to hold back a giggle as he gives you a short glare, unwilling to back down.

“it looks good,” he grumbles. you’re not sure if he’s trying to convince you or himself. “it’s great. stop being a jerk. the girls worked hard.”

“of course,” you nod, biting back a grin, “you look lovely. your hair’s never been better.”

“i can hear the laughter in your voice,” he accuses.

“i’m not laughing!”

he raises a brow, and you can’t help it. you giggle. his hair is positively ruined—there are knots and tangles and clips everywhere. you don’t know where one nest of hair starts and where the other ends. everything is everywhere at once and suguru….well, suguru is trying to convince himself this is okay.

it’s for his girls, he reminds himself—anything for his girls.

“you just laughed,” he mutters, looking into the mirror. his eyes are alarmed, but for pride’s sake, he throws on a carefree look as he shrugs. “i look like their princess. they said so themselves.”

“well, i’ll give you a point for sweetest dad ever,” you hum, pulling out a loose clip. “but i deduct five points for falling asleep on watch duty.”

you come home from work and find a sleeping suguru at the foot of the couch with two toddlers hunched over his shoulders, working diligently at his hair. it’s cute—the way he looks as he sleeps peacefully, the way they look as they giggle and twist strands of dark hair with their small fingers. it’s heartwarming and makes you want to keep the moment frozen for just a bit longer.

but then you realize that irresponsibly, suguru has fallen asleep with two toddlers in the house—one of which (you eye a certain blonde) is a bit of a troublemaker.

“negative four?” he gasps, wounded.

“negative four,” you affirm, shaking your head in disappointment.

“i couldn’t help it,” he pouts, “it’s soothing having two sets of hands play with your hair.”

“well, good luck getting this mess out of your hair,” you chuckle, turning to step out of the bathroom—but suguru is quick. his hand snatches your wrist as soon as you take a step.

“hang on,” he tugs, pulling you back in, “you’ve gotta help me with this.”

“i thought you said it was fine,” you raise a brow, “it shouldn’t be much trouble.”

“i haven’t see you all day,” he insists, “can’t i have a relaxing shower with my wife as she washes my hair?”

“i showered this morning. see you after yours though—”

“okay fine,” he deflates, rolling his eyes as he looks off to the side, “this is….gonna take a while to fix.”

you grin victoriously. suguru grumbles under his breath.

“alright,” you poke his cheek with a satisfied smirk, “i’ll help you. if you say pretty please.”

——————

“daddy you changed your hair,” nanako whines in despair as soon as suguru steps out of the bathroom. you stifle a giggle as he looks down at her in alarm.

“sweetheart, daddy just had to shower and—”

“maybe he didn’t like it,” mimiko mumbles quietly from the side. her voice is glum—and like the doting mother you are, your smile drops as you feel your heart ache.

“what? that’s not true!” suguru sputters, “i loved it! mommy loved it too, right?”

the two girls turn to look at you—and because you have long realized that motherhood is the gracefulness of putting your children’s feelings above all else, even if it means lying straight through your teeth, you nod with exaggerated vigor.

“of course!” you say enthusiastically, “it was so unique! i’ve never seen daddy look so….pretty.”

suguru shoots you an unimpressed look as you bite your lip in amusement.

“he was a princess!” nanako brightens, a happy smile erupting over her lips. suguru grins as he melts, pinching the soft flesh of her cheek gently with a low hum.

“i was,” he nods, “wasn’t i beautiful?”

“oh, yeah,” you snort, “way too beautiful—you might dethrone me.”

“mommy we can make you a princess too—”

“who wants dinner?” you cut mimiko off quickly, smiling through the panic, “i bet everyone’s hungry!”

“me!” nanako raises her hand enthusiastically and you sigh in relief—crisis successfully averted. but only for now, you suppose. the devious look suguru gives you tells you this won’t be the last time the suggestion is offered to you.

“what a shame,” suguru sighs dramatically, “i wanted to see you all dolled up. maybe next time.”

and then he reaches down and pulls both girls into his arms, filling the room with giggles as he nibbles on their cheeks affectionately and saunters off to the dinner table. you can’t help but smile softly as you watch his retreating figure—suguru was made for fatherhood, you think, he fills the role so effortlessly.

and then….you hear a thump and a hissed curse under his breath in the distance.

“mommy, daddy said a bad word!” nanako calls, earning a panicked no i didn’t! from your husband. “now he’s lying,” she adds.

well….no one said he was perfect.

i just know nanako is simultaneously a daddy’s girl who also rats him out and tattles 24/7 bc she thinks it’s funny when he gets in trouble

[freedomfireflies]

Pillow Talk*

Summary: The one where you and Harry both have insomnia, and decide to spend one very strange night together.

Word Count: 7.2k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, daddy kink, mentions of drugs, angst (w/ happy ending!), not suitable for Ramadan!

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Come on. Just one time.”

“No. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Probably. I haven’t slept in 32 hours.”

You huff as you hide yourself behind your door. You don’t even want to see him. Because you don’t want to have this conversation or entertain this idiotic idea. This is what Harry does. He plays games. He tricks and he ruins and if you open this door, you know you’ll regret it. 

“Poppy, please,” he calls, and you hear his forehead land on the wood as though to brace himself. “I’ve tried everything else, okay? It always works with you. I just…I wanted to try. See if it still does.”

You frown. “You realize how wildly inappropriate this is, right? Asking if you can come in just so we can sleep together?”

“Yeah, but that’s all I want to do. Sleep,” he insists again. “Really. I’ll keep my hands to myself and I won’t even talk to you.”

You consider this. Truthfully, you haven’t slept all that well since the breakup, either. And sure, you’ve longed for the nights when the two of you would fall into such an easy, simple, and incredibly effective routine. 

But he broke your heart. And now you’re both paying the price.

“Just one night,” he pleads again. “And if it doesn’t work, I swear I won’t bother you ever again.”

There’s a subtle ache in your chest. Just hearing his voice reminds you of the pain. Of the joy. Of every good moment and every bad one, all wrapped up in the same silky cadence.

You take a deep breath. Perhaps you’re curious, too. Even if you don’t want to be. Because maybe this will work. Maybe you’ll finally be able to rest and get on with your life.

Or maybe it won’t.

But at least if it doesn’t, maybe you can find some closure.

So, with that thought…you open the door. 

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. Which makes you just a touch happy if you’re being honest with yourself. His usual curls are askew and unkept. The bags under his eyes are dark and his clothes are wildly wrinkled.

And you’re surprised. He’s been up for longer than 32 hours before and handled it much better. You wonder if his age is catching up with him or if there’s something else keeping him awake.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

But you don’t fight with him. He’s not here to fight and you accept his terms as you widen the door and allow him to step inside.

He nods gratefully as he slips into your living room, but his eyes linger on your face. Almost like he doesn’t recognize you, and it makes your insides turn as you shut the door and put a few feet between you.

“What?” you huff.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, you look…different.”

“Okay…?”

“You changed your hair.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. It’s nice.”

You cross your arms. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Another pause, and the silence feels heavy.

“Well…do you wanna…?” you eventually say, and he nods.

“Right, yeah.”

“Okay.”

You turn to lead him to your room and it’s…unsettling how normal it feels. Like an old habit rearing its ugly head once again.

When you get there, his surprise returns. “You changed your room, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Why?”

Your eyes roll as you angrily toss your blankets back. “This is the one room I associated with you the most. And short of moving, I needed something you hadn’t touched or tainted. So I made the room mine again.”

He thinks about this, attention lingering on the new paint on the walls and the new furniture in each corner. “I like it.”

“I don’t care.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Great. Can you get in the bed please so we can get this over with?”

Obliging, he slips off his shoes and joins you under the duvet. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again.”

“Never thought I’d have to say it.”

“Mm. You changed your mattress.”

“Obviously.”

“And the sheets and blankets, too.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there anything in here you didn’t change?”

“The carpet. But only because my landlord said I couldn’t.”

“Right.” He’s smiling again. “But you did get a rug.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice.”

“Bite me.”

He laughs now and you want to smack him. “I see you still get grumpy when you’re tired.”

“No, I get grumpy when my asshole of an ex shows up to my apartment at 3 in the morning demanding to be let in so he can sleep in my bed with me like a fucking child,” you argue. And you know you’re being snippy and maybe even rude, but he deserves it. After everything he’s put you through, you deserve to be in charge of your own emotions. 

You turn the lamp off and the dark room grows incredibly quiet. You’re both stiff, unable to relax when you’re this close. You don’t want to touch—not the way you used to. And you don’t want to be close or let your guard down, although you suppose you’ll have to in order to sleep.

And then he says, “I really did try, you know. To find another way to sleep.”

You look up at the ceiling and release a soft exhale. “Okay.”

“Melatonin, light therapy, cut out coffee. Even drank those…sleep mocktail things everyone talks about.” He shifts. “I don’t know, I guess my brain just wouldn’t turn off.”

“Yeah. I know.”

More quiet.

“I haven’t done any since we broke up,” he finally says. Gentle, like he’s afraid to break the silence. 

Your lashes flutter. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know what he means. “Great.”

“Yeah.” Another beat. “I thought it was work, I guess. Maybe the stress or something. I’ve been sleeping fine, but these past couple weeks…”

“Right.”

“And I just figured—”

“No, I got it. It’s fine, let’s just…let’s just try to sleep,” you say and he nods.

The bedroom settles and you try, you really do. But you can’t when he’s breathing so goddamn loud and shifting every two seconds and sighing like he’s in pain.

“What?” you eventually hiss.

“Are you dating someone?” he asks.

“What?”

“Are you dating someone?” he repeats. “Josie said you were.”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Kind of. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“We’re…we’ve been on a few dates. It’s not official.”

“He hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend?”

“Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t. I just figure you deserve someone that actually wants to date you.”

“Oh, do I?” You roll your head to look at him. “Funny, you didn’t seem to think so when you were dating me.”

“All right, touché,” he mumbles. “I could have been better, I know that. And I know I took advantage. You did a lot for me and I didn’t…I didn’t care.”

Surprised, you twist your fingers together. “Uh…yeah. Right. Thank you.”

His head rolls, too. And even with the dim-light, his eyes find yours. “I’m sorry, Poppy. You really did deserve better than me. And if you found it with this guy…I’ll be happy for you.”

You swallow before sighing to yourself. “I mean, I don’t know if I did. He’s…he’s really nice. But he’s so…he’s just…”

“Vanilla?”

Your eyes widen. “Yeah. How did you—”

“He was wearing Crocs with tube socks.”

You laugh—loud. “Oh my god, how did you know?”

“I might have looked him up,” he admits through a grin. “Wanted to make sure he was worth your time.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And he wears Crocs with tube socks. He can’t make you cum.”

Your features scrunch together as you gasp and look away. “Ew, Harry. It’s not about that—”

“It’s always about that. Come on, am I wrong?”

“You—yes. What he wears has nothing to do with what he’s like in bed—”

“So he’s not vanilla?”

“He’s…” You pause. “He…look, he really tries—”

“So, he is,” Harry finishes for you. “Well, at least you got some.”

“I…yeah. Uh-huh.”

Instantly, he turns onto his side, head resting in the palm of his hand as he studies you. “He couldn’t get it up, could he?”

“Harry,” you groan, and reach out to swat him. “Stop, it wasn’t that. We just…we were taking things slow. We did some stuff. Just not…all of it.”

“So what he’d do?”

“Harry—”

“Come on, we’re adults, just tell me.”

“Ew, no—”

“Listen, you used to get fucked good. I’m just trying to help you get back to that.”

You frown but do oblige. “I don’t know. He ate me out and I blew him. That’s it.”

“And…?”

“And…I don’t know. He was fine. He was good.”

“Sure.”

Your eyes roll. “Okay, he…he wasn’t really all that into it. He stopped after a few seconds and asked if I came. Then he said his jaw was tired and that maybe we should just switch.”

Now, Harry’s features scrunch, too. “Shit. What a fucking pussy. Ironically.”

“I guess. It could have been worse.”

“Really? Eating you out was always my favorite. What kind of asshole just stops if he doesn’t have to?”

You feel a rush of heat through your body as you look away. “I guess they can’t all be you.”

“Damn fucking right,” he scoffs. “Seriously, you still wanted to see him after that?”

“He’s cute,” you argue. “And nice. And yeah, maybe he’s not that adventurous but that’s okay. I don’t need wild sex all the time.”

He’s quiet. “How about just one time?”

You turn back. “What?”

“I—okay, I was just thinking…you know, one of the things we would do when we couldn’t sleep was…fuck, so—”

“Oh, absolutely not.” You sit up, as though to put some distance between you. “No. Forget it—”

“Poppy—”

“Don’t call me that,” you huff. “You don’t get to call me that ever again. Okay, I’m not gonna fuck you just so we can sleep—”

“It wouldn’t be just for that,” he argues, sitting up as well. “It would also help your mood, too—”

“Oh, my mood?” You glare at him. “My mood is just fine, actually. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty good if I agreed to let you in my apartment in the first place—”

“You didn’t have to. I’m just saying, if sex with him is gonna be bland, might as well get in one last good fuck before you commit to a lifetime of boring—”

“Oh, my god. It’s not a lifetime and you’re a fucking asshole—”

“Yeah. We’ve established that. Doesn’t change the fact that you need it.”

You stare at him. “Is that why you’re really here? To trick me into sleeping with you?”

He leans back. “What? No. I don’t trick people into having sex, it was just a suggestion—”

“Yeah, a pretty dumb one. Did you honestly think I’d say yes?”

“Yeah,” he admits haughtily. “Yeah, because we didn’t break up over the sex. We broke up because you’re an uptight—”

“What? Say it,” you sneer. “Say it. I’m an uptight bitch because I wouldn’t let you do cocaine.”

He scoffs again and looks off into the dark of your room. The argument lulls. “I could never do anything right.”

“That wasn’t the problem and you know it.” You pull your legs to your chest. “I wanted to move forward and you kept going back. You’re almost 30 and you still act like you’re 19.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to get married and do the whole white picket fence life,” he says. “Maybe I liked things the way they were—”

“No. No, you liked parties with your friends and doing drugs that kept you up for hours  and getting fired and leaving me to pay all the bills—”

“You didn’t pay all the bills and I told you I would do what I could to help—”

“Yeah. But apparently that included getting fucked up and staying out all night just to crash the next day.” You study him closely. “You were never around anymore. I never saw you. We were on two different paths and the only time we ever talked was when you asked if I wanted to fuck.”

“So, that’s it, huh? I’m just a villain in your story. You were this perfect fucking princess, and I was a monster that ruined your life?”

“No, obviously not. I wasn’t perfect. I know that.”

“Do you?” His eyes flick between yours. “You didn’t want me to move forward with you. You liked your new job and your new friends because they didn’t remind you of me. Of who we both used to be.”

“So? I’m not proud of what I used to do. And sure, maybe I wanted to make a better impression on the people paying my salary and keeping me employed. Is that such a fucking crime?”

“No. But you didn’t want me to be a part of that impression and you know it.”

“Right. Because you were shit-faced all the time.”

He opens his mouth, ready to retort. But then he closes it. He closes it and he stares at you and then…he surges forward.

Even if you were given at least two seconds to prepare, you’re not prepared for the way his hands feel on your cheeks as he kisses you. As he presses his lips to yours and steals the labored breaths in your lungs.

But you don’t fight him. You know you should. Know you should push him off and berate him. Yet you let him kiss you. And you kiss him back. And it’s far too easy to slip back into this routine as his tongue slides against yours in such a teasing way.

Your stomach flips while your hands land on his lap. You’re desperate to be closer, to feel his body against yours. His skin, and the way it melts beneath your palms like butter. You dance this devious dance and before you know it, you’re stripping each other of the few clothes you have.

He starts with your shirt. Ripping it over your head before his mouth lands on your chest. Bare and beautiful to him. His kisses are wet and sloppy and you arch yourself closer as you drag your fingers down his scalp.

The only reason he stops is to let you peel his t-shirt off, too. And then his jeans and socks. And you move so fluidly, you’re nearly naked in under a minute. The only thing left between you now his underwear and yours.

He lays you down, gentle. Surprisingly gentle, given the anger that brought you here. And he gazes at you in a soft, unspoken way that says everything you don’t exactly know how to say. 

His fingers brush down your cheek as his body settles atop yours. He still fits between your legs like he was always meant to and the weight of him almost feels good.

“Are you all right?” he finally whispers, and he doesn’t sound like the same man from before. He sounds like the man you fell in love with. “Is this okay?”

You nod quickly, scared that if you think about it, you’ll ruin it. “Yeah. Go.”

He doesn’t. “We don’t have to,” he says. “You were right, it’s probably a dumb idea—”

“Yeah, but…it always works.” You shift beneath him and reach for his briefs, rolling them down his hips. “And I’m tired. Tired of fighting with you, tired of not getting any sleep…tired of pretending I hate you. You were right, our sex is good. So let’s do it. And then we can sleep. And we can finally move on.”

Not the most romantic of speeches, but it works. At least right now. He kisses you again and drags your underwear aside in order to tease you with the tip of his cock.

He feels like you remember. And maybe you find just a touch of comfort in that. There are no awkward pauses or confusion about what to do next. You don’t have to find your rhythm or anticipate the next step. You know him. And he knows you.

Your rub your clit in order to stimulate yourself. You aren’t exactly wet enough for this to be enjoyable, but you don’t expect him to do what he did before. The foreplay is up to you now and you’re more than all right with that.

However, he’s not. And he instantly swats your hand away in order to do it himself. Allowing his fingers to drag up and down your pussy until you shiver before he slips the tip of his middle finger inside.

“Shit,” he whispers. His forehead drops to yours. “Fucking missed this.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He starts to pump, bending your body to his salacious intentions until the unmistakable sound of wetness echoes throughout the room. “I know you missed it, too.”

“Hm. Don’t push it.”

“Why not?” He presses a kiss to your cheek. Then to your jaw. Your lips. Your nose. Your neck. Everywhere you used to love. “Are you really gonna tell me you didn’t?” 

“Maybe.”

“So Crocs with Tube Socks is better, huh?”

“…not exactly.”

“Right.” He adds a second finger and your eyes roll back. “Don’t worry, Poppy, I’ll fix it.”

“Don’t…call me that,” you pant again, and he chuckles.

“Don’t know what else to call you. You were always my pretty Poppy.”

“But now I’m not,” you say. “Now you call me nothing. Because I’m not yours to call.”

He sighs but does seem to obey, at least for now. And the faster he thrusts his hand, the needier this growing feeling becomes. Stronger and louder until you finally grab onto his shoulders and say, “Just put it in already.”

He smirks. “How romantic.”

“It’s not supposed to be. Just come on.”

So, he does. He takes hold of his cock and he slips it through the gathering arousal until he can push in. And you both reel.

Truthfully, you’ve missed the sounds he makes when he’s turned on. The way he groans and grits his teeth together. The way the muscles in his arms strain until you can see those beautiful veins you used to love to run your tongue over. 

He’s stunning. Even now, in the soft light of the moon through your curtains. His silhouette is unholy as it hovers above you. Strong hips beginning to thrust as you both work in tandem to find release.

And it’s closer than you expected. There’s something about him that can get you there even without much effort. Something Crocs with Tube Socks could never seem to figure out. 

Because he’s not Harry. And only Harry can play you like an instrument and make such symphonic music all with the flick of his finger and a thrust of his cock.

He kisses you again and you both feel anxious. Soft murmurings of praise and, “Keep going,” that have you arching from the bed and moaning into his mouth.

You’re sweating and gasping for air and clutching onto his back as you attempt to meet his rhythm with rolls of your own. You need this. You need to cum so you can find release and you need to cum so you can finally sleep and you need to cum because then you’ll finally be able to let him go. To close the door on the chapter of you and Harry and move the fuck on.

But how can you move on when you’re still under him? How can you insist that you’re fine and doing great if you’re so easily convinced to fuck him just so you can both get some sleep?

There are other remedies to insomnia that don’t involve his cock and maybe you should have tried that before you let him into your apartment. 

Either way, you’re coming before you can think twice about it. Raking your nails down his back and whimpering his name as he pulls out and finishes on your thigh. 

And just like that…

It’s over.

You find him in the kitchen about an hour later. You managed to sleep at least a few minutes before you felt the sadistic hand of insomnia pull you back out. But when you woke, Harry was gone. His clothes were still on the floor, so you knew he hadn’t left. But he wasn’t with you.

He’s staring out your kitchen window when you slip into the living room. You’re not sure if he hears you or not but if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he keeps himself braced against the sink, clad in nothing more than his briefs.

Curious, you call, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. Silent. Contemplative. “I used to love this window,” he eventually says. Soft, like he’s reminiscing. “The way the light looked in the morning. The way your little crystals would put rainbows on the wall and you’d get so excited. How you’d make me dance with you to some Elton John song while we were literally in the middle of cooking.”

You blink. “Um…okay.”

He turns and his eyes find yours. “I fucking loved this apartment. And this kitchen. And that couch. And your room. And even the hallway. I loved being here, all the time. I hated going back to my place because it never felt the same.”

The silence grows louder now as you look down at your feet and pull your robe just a bit tighter. “I know,” you finally whisper. “That’s why I changed it.”

“I know,” he whispers back. His expression falls. “You changed everything. This apartment, your life…us.”

“Because I had to,” you argue, glancing back up. “I had to, Harry. I couldn’t keep going in circles. I couldn’t drag you along behind me into the future when you clearly wanted to be anywhere else.” 

“Because the future you always painted didn’t seem to have room for me,” he huffs. “Okay, with all these dinner parties and fancy houses and good school districts. You’d planned out the next 30 years and I didn’t see myself anywhere in your picture.”

“I didn’t fucking care about the parties or the school districts,” you nearly yell. “God, I—I didn’t want the white picket fence life. I didn’t want the 1950’s American Dream shit you keep thinking I did. I just wanted you. Yes, I wanted a good job with insurance and stability. But I wasn’t gonna trade what we had just for that—”

“But you did. You didn’t tell your parents we’d moved in together. You didn’t even tell half of our friends. You went on trips without me and you stopped telling me about your day and we never talked—”

“Because you were never around! You were either out with your friends getting drunk or high or you were in there playing video games because you’d had a ‘hard day.’ So, no. I didn’t want to talk to you when I knew you weren’t even listening in the first place.”

 He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. Angry. Indignant. “You resented me. You resented the fact that we were together and you resented that I wasn’t perfect like your precious new friends—”

“Oh, that’s—” You pinch the bridge of your nose and force in a deep breath. “No. I didn’t want you to be like them. I didn’t want you to act pretentious and stuffy and talk about the stock market every goddamn second of the day. The only thing I resented…was the fact that you wouldn’t take care of yourself.”

“I was taking care of myself—”

“Bullshit. You were doing drugs—you were doing cocaine—and you weren’t eating, you weren’t sleeping, you nearly drunk yourself to death—”

“Right, but I wasn’t doing it all the time. It was just…it was occasionally, and it wasn’t a lot—”

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t have been doing it at all, Harry,” you finally shout. “You…you scared the shit out of me. Every time one of your friends would call and say you were passed out, I thought…I thought this was it. I thought I was gonna lose you. Do you know how many times I just sat on the floor and cried because I was so scared? Because you never wanted to listen when I told you to stop? Because you were so sure you were invincible?”

He seems pained by this, features wilting as he takes a tentative step forward. But he stops when you move back. “Poppy, I wasn’t trying to scare you, I…I didn’t know—”

“Yes, you did,” you scoff. “I told you, over and over that I didn’t want to lose you, but you thought I was being dramatic.”

He nods once. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.” He looks at you. “S’why I stopped after we broke up. You were right, I needed to get my shit together.”

You nod, too. “Good. I’m glad.”

His gaze dances around the kitchen. “I hate that you changed everything,” he says again, and your heart wrenches. “I hate that it doesn’t look like it used to. I hate that I hurt you so bad that you felt like you had to erase everything I ever touched.”

You step closer and wipe a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, I hate it, too. I hate that I had to. I hate that stupid mattress and I hate that my kitchen doesn’t look like a rainbow anymore and I really fucking hate that I have no one to dance with when I cook.”

His eyes soften as they find yours and in only a few seconds, he’s reaching for the belt on your robe and tugging you to him. Wrapping you in his arms as he presses you against his chest, the way he always used to when you were sad.

“No,” you argue weakly, although you do nothing to stop him. “No, you can’t…you can’t—”

“Yes, I can,” he retorts quietly. You feel his lips press to the top of your head. “You don’t get to cry over me anymore. You’re better than that now. You did what I couldn’t. You moved on. And I don’t get to ruin that for you.”

You sniffle as you run your hand down his stomach. “It wasn’t about moving on. I just needed to learn how to be strong enough for both of us.”

“Poppy,” he breathes and holds you tighter. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

And deep down…you know he’s right.

“Shit, just like that…a little closer. Good girl, hold yourself open for me, baby. Yeah.”

Doing your best to oblige, you slip your fingers between your folds as Harry nudges his nose closer. Kissing his way along your thighs before allowing his tongue to lick a very generous stripe up your pussy.

Round 2 is on the couch. Harry wanted the kitchen counter—nearly insisted on it, in fact—but you knew you didn’t want to ruin your favorite breakfast spot. And you weren’t about to just for him.

So, the couch it was. He complained about it as you got settled. He hates this new couch, too. The color, the lumpy cushions, the way it feels like you’re sinking when you sit. 

You told him you didn’t care. You loved it and if it annoyed him, that was a bonus.

Thankfully, he swallowed his complaints in favor of swallowing you. He tossed your robe open and pulled your thighs apart. And then he buried himself between the warmth of your pussy the way he always used to.

And you decided that maybe you don’t mind insomnia so much if this is the remedy.

“Missed this, too,” he says now as he nips at your clit. “God, you’ve always tasted so fucking good. S’fucking crazy, baby. Can’t ever get enough.”

“Sure,” you snort, head dropping back. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls—”

“No.” He shakes his head and his nose nudges the sensitive nerves as you whine. “No, there’s no other girls. Come on, did you really think there could be?”

“With a mouth like that? Yeah,” you admit. He laughs. “That’s how we met. You were such—fuck—such a player.”

“Maybe,” he concedes before mouthing at you again. “But nobody else has ever made me feel the way you do.”

You snort. “Where’d you learn that line?”

“It’s not a line. It’s the truth.”

“Harry. Come on. I know you.”

“Then you should know I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” He smooths his palms down your thighs in order to spread you just a bit further and see the way your hole flutters. “Oh, pretty girl. S’just drenched, hm? All sensitive from the last one…need Daddy to make it better?”

You scrunch your nose. “You don’t get to call yourself that anymore.”

“No?” He grins. “Why not?”

“Because I hate you and Daddy is reserved for someone I like.”

He tsks. “I don’t know, kind of seems like you still like it. Keep clenching around my tongue like you wanna hear me say it again.”

You hesitate as you weave your fingers through his curls. “Never.”

He hums and the vibration against your cunt makes your thighs twitch. “Come on, baby. Don’t be mean to Daddy.”

You want to glare. Slap at him, refuse him. But he’s right—you have missed the moniker. If only just because of how good he sounds when he says it. So, you let him tease you and taunt you as he tastes you. You let him do whatever the hell he wants because your second orgasm feels stronger than the first and you don’t imagine you’ll survive this one. 

He slips a finger in as well. Beckons your pleasure closer with every curl of the large digit. It’s practiced. He sucks and licks and nips and thrusts and curls and pumps all at the same time.

Then, he pulls back and brings his palm down in a sharp smack to your pussy. 

“Stop squirming,” he instructs, then shoots you an obviously pleased frown. “Don’t be a brat.”

“M’not,” you whimper. “Not a brat…just wanna cum.”

“Do you, hm?” He licks you again then adds two fingers. “Should I let you?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously?” He’s smirking now as he starts to go faster. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you do deserve it. Yeah? After being so nice as to let me in.”

You pout. “Mhm.”

He’s so happy. He’s always his happiest when he’s suffocating himself with your pussy. He does everything he knows you love. He leaves teasing kisses to the inside of your thighs. He slaps at your leg, your clit, your hip. He helps rock you against his tongue and even lifts you from the couch to find a deeper angle. 

And he does all of this out of sheer enjoyment. 

“Harry,” you whimper as you melt into the cushions. Your limbs feel like jello. The pleasure is everywhere, and he looks like a god. His face is covered in you, glistening about as bright as the stars.

“I know, Poppy,” he says. He kisses your pussy and then smiles at you. “I know.”

You like the way Harry’s chest feels. Warm and soft and painted in the tattoos you used to trace with your finger.

He’s gently scratching your back as you both lay in bed. The room is quiet—you haven’t spoken in minutes. Still, neither of you can seem to find sleep and you know you’ll desperately need it soon. 

But this is nice. Even if it is the last time. You like getting to reminisce—pretend for even a moment that things are the way they used to be. When you were happy and safe and content to be together.

You weren’t sure you’d ever feel this kind of peace again.

“I missed you, too, you know,” he whispers after a moment.

You glance up. 

“I didn’t just miss your apartment. I missed you.” He takes a breath and runs his palm along your spine. “I miss our Sunday mornings and I miss when we’d watch scary movies just so we could make out and I miss the way you used to dance around in your underwear to some stupid musical you were obsessed with.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “Har…”

“And I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I felt like…I felt like I was watching you do all these amazing things and I just couldn’t keep up. You were getting promoted and moving up and I was still at the fucking bar serving drinks. And you knew what you wanted to do. I didn’t.”

“I didn’t know,” you argue gently. “Not really. I hate my job. I hate that I don’t enjoy it the way I used to. I mean, I like that it pays the bills, but maybe that shouldn’t be enough.”

He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “You should do what makes you happy.”

“You used to make me happy.”

The soft strokes against your spine slow. 

“You did, Har,” you tell him. “So happy. That’s why I hated that we started fighting all of the time. I hated that you were gone or that I was gone or the fact that I was too ashamed to tell you that I missed you. And that I was scared we were losing each other.”

“Maybe we needed to lose each other,” he says and you feel sick. “Maybe we needed to be apart to see what we really wanted.”

You think about this. The idea sounds nice. Inviting. A happy end to a rather dreadful story.

But you both know better. Five months has taught you better.

“There’s a reason we broke up,” you finally murmur. “We didn’t…we didn’t like each other anymore. We were holding each other back—”

“I liked you,” he says softly. “I loved you. Yeah, I was mad, but I didn’t just stop loving you.” 

“Maybe you should have. Maybe it would have been easier for us and we wouldn’t be…here.”

More silence. It stretches for what feels like hours.

And then, “I can’t sleep because of you.”

You suck in a quiet breath. “What?”

“When Josie told me that you were seeing someone, I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And she showed me a picture she took of you guys and you were so happy. Smiling at him like you used to smile at me and I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

Another pause. You don’t know what to say.

“I put my fist through a wall,” he tells you. “And somehow, that still didn’t hurt as much as knowing you’d moved on.”

You snake your arm around his middle and snuggle closer. “Harry, you knew we both had to move on eventually.”

“Did we?”

“Harry…”

“But so soon? It’s only been five months.”

“Yeah. Five months to grieve you and cry over you and realize I did this for you.” You close your eyes. Tight. “We’re better people now.”

“No, we’re tired people now,” he teases, and you smile. “And I think I’ll be losing sleep over you for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it. I’m always gonna think about you. Think about what I did wrong. What I could have done better.”

“I fucked up, too,” you argue. “I should have told my parents. And our friends. I should have talked to you more, asked you to do more things together. You’re right, I was ashamed of you. Of this…routine we’d fallen into. And I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. After all, there’s nothing more to say.

But he kisses the crown of your head and it speaks louder than any words.

“Fuck…fuck, Poppy, please—”

You grin as you lick your lips. He’s always sounded the most beautiful when he’s begging. And his best begging always tends to happen when his cock is down your throat. 

“What, Daddy?” you ask innocently. “What do you need me to do?”

His eyes roll back and he grips the sheets in his fist. “Please…”

You reposition yourself over his legs as you dip back down to have another taste. You lick and you suck and you stroke until he’s making another strained noise that sounds like sex.

You hope your neighbors can hear. You bet they missed him.

“Good boy,” you purr, squeezing his thighs as you take him even further. 

He sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth before his hand finds your hair and he squeezes. “Easy…easy, baby. S’been a while. Don’t hurt yourself—”

You respond to his instruction by inhaling through your nose and relaxing the muscles in your throat. Allowing him to hit the back the way he always used to.

His head drops into the pillows. “Shit—Poppy, I mean it. M’not gonna fuck your throat. It’s gonna hurt and I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

It’s an oddly thoughtful gesture but it does nothing for you now. Instead, you shake your head and pull off, a string of saliva dripping down his cock in your wake. “I’m fine, H. Trust me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He pushes up onto his elbows. “Is Crocs with Tube Socks hung or something?”

You grin. “No. But that dildo you got me last year is.”

He blinks. “You…fucking hell, you fuck your throat with that?”

“Mhm.” You swirl your tongue around his tip as he curses. “And then I fuck myself. And I pretend it’s you.”

He tightens his hold on your hair and forces your eyes back to his. “Are you serious?”

You nod, now feeling a touch shy as you wipe your mouth with your knuckles. “Yeah…I know that’s…probably weird, but…I mean, you got it for me, so I thought I’d be weirder to think about someone else—”

“No, it’s…” He stops. Struggles. “Shit, I really needed to hear that.”

“Oh, you did, huh?” 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want you to think about anyone else when you used it, either. It’s got my fucking initials on it.”

You laugh, louder than you mean to and it makes him grin. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? It was a pretty good gift, I’ll admit.”

“S’a fucking perfect gift,” he retorts. “We had a lot of fun with that dildo.”

“We did indeed.”

“But apparently not as much fun as you’re having with it.”

“Fucking myself helps me sleep,” you remind him. “So sometimes it’s necessity.”

“Is that right?” 

“Mhm.” You squeeze the base and he twitches. “You used to watch me. Remember?”

“I do.” His eyes get darker. “Do you fuck yourself a lot?”

“…these days, yeah. Apparently, I can’t sleep all that well, either.”

“And does it work?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” You turn your attention back to his cock in order to avoid his curiosity before you quietly admit, “Sometimes I pretend you’re here. Sleeping next to me. And…that helps, too.”

He reaches for your wrist and pulls your attention back. “Poppy—”

“No, don’t look at me like that, it’s dumb—”

“I imagine you, too.”

You blink. “You do?”

“Every night. Except the past couple weeks. Cause now I just think about you and him. And then I can’t fucking sleep.”

You turn your hand so your fingers brush through his. “Shit. We’re a mess.”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

The conversation falls away as you dip back down to resume your work. Squeezing his balls, moaning as you take him on your tongue, and milking him for every last drop. 

Turns out, you missed the taste of him, too.

Morning comes before either of you find a moment of rest. But you can feel yourself growing tired. Your eyelids are beginning to droop, and your body feels incredibly spent. 

Turns out, round 4 is where the magic happened. He brought out your favorite vibrator and teased your poor, swollen clit with it until you squirted. It was easy and quick and he seemed rather delighted to be bathed in you.

Until, of course, you insist on an actual bath to clean you both.

The shower felt good. The warm water washing away the sticky sweat on your skin. And the two of you fell back into a similar routine. He ran the soap down your arms and you washed his curls with your favorite shampoo. A shampoo he claimed he looked everywhere for after you broke up but could never find.

He said he missed the smell. The way it made his hair so soft. And the way it would make his pillowcase smell just like you.

You were grateful that the shower hid your tears.

You both crashed on the couch after you had dried off. The sheets still needed to be cleaned and neither of you could be bothered. But, as it turned out, the couch was growing on him. And he begrudgingly admitted it was rather comfy as the two of you curled up in your usual spot. 

You know you’re both close to sleep. Finally, after all your efforts to get here. But you also know that once you wake up, Harry will leave. 

And there’s a chance you won’t see him again.

You know that nothing has changed. The two of you still want different things, even if you want each other. And you hate that that’s not enough. That what you want and what you should want don’t align.

Instead, he’ll move on with his life and you’ll move on with yours.

But you don’t want to learn how to fall asleep without him.

“Make me a deal,” you whisper.

He hums. Lashes shut tight as the morning light slips in through the window. “What?”

“If I wake up, and you’re still here…we do this again. Not…as a couple. But as two broken humans that find rest with each other.”

His eyes open.

“But if you’re gone,” you continue, “then we don’t. We don’t do it again, we don’t see each other again, we don’t reach out again. We cut ties. Officially. Block and move on. For real.”

He seems saddened by this, and you hate that you’ve made him sad. But you both know it’s for the best. This won’t be sustainable in the long run. And maybe it’s a bad idea to continue at all, but maybe you want to hold on to him anyway. At least for a little while.

Even if it’s just as friends.

Exes.

Two broken humans that used to make each other whole.

His lips press together and he nods once. “Deal,” he agrees, and you can tell by the look on his face, he’s already made a decision.

You aren’t sure which way, but you suppose you’ll find out soon enough. So, you allow your eyes to fall shut and your dreams to take hold. Melting into his arms and into the sofa as you finally find sleep quicker than you have in months.

You’re not sure how long you’re out. It feels like hours. A heavy slumber that leaves you rather refreshed as your eyes eventually flutter open. 

You don’t see Harry as you slowly adjust to your surroundings. And you don’t feel him, either. But you’re too afraid to really look. To sit up and realize that he’s gone. For good.

And then, just when you think you’ve lost him…you hear the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Good morning, Poppy.”

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry

[sweetkpopmusings]

stray kids soulmate aus | b. chan <3

a/n: i was knocked out by a migraine for days and the main motivation for me to get better was so i could write this au :,-) i love sweet chan and this prompt in particular has been a favorite of mine my whole life !!! i hope you enjoy it <33 pics not mine~

content: fluff, soulmate au | wc: 1.8k | warnings: none really! some mentions of food | pairing: soulmate!chan x gn!reader | requests: open

♡ chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin ♡

soulmates meet in dreams every night, but your paths won’t cross in waking life until the time is right.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

whenever chan had a rough day, he would crave sleep more desperately than on his worst insomniac nights. today was one of those days. he couldn’t say that it was a bad day, but they were nearing the end of the tour, so his emotions and physical exhaustion were running high. he rushed through his nighttime routine, aching to fall asleep and see your face. he knew that, even if it were brief, being with you would keep him from completely falling apart.

“it’s about time you showed up!” you teased, grinning at chan when he walked into the living room you two designed.

“i’m really sorry, y/n,” chan sighed, falling onto the sofa, “these last few shows have messed with my sleep schedule more than i expected. i feel so bad that i haven’t been around as much.”

your heart broke when you saw his frown, “chan, i’m not mad. please don’t feel bad. i just miss hanging out with you, and this is the only place i can do it. i’m grateful for any time we get together during your busy schedule!”

“y/n…” chan’s frown turned into an adorable pout, “that makes me feel even more guilty. you can’t be so nice and understanding!”

you laughed when he put his head in his hands. you wrapped him into a hug, appreciating the giggles that escaped his lips at the close contact. 

“i miss you more,” chan mumbled against your clothing.

you shook your head, which, surprisingly, chan noticed, “don’t disagree with me! it’s true!”

chan smiled widely when he saw you laughing. he paused to enjoy the sound of your laughter. then, once your laughs quieted, he held both of your hands in his.

“i promise that i’ll rest a ton once i’m back from tour, okay? i’ll be on break for a while, so i’ll make sure i am at your beck and call every time you sleep. i’ll do everything i can to make it up to you, to make up for the lost time. i swear.”

the combination of his grasp and sincere gaze was almost overwhelming. chan always made promises with his full heart, and you knew that to be especially true right now. 

“i believe you,” you smiled, which prompted chan’s shoulders to relax, “thank you, chan. you don’t have to make it up to me. but you do need to get some more rest. i don’t want to have to scold you to take care of yourself the first time we meet!”

“you’re going to anyway, no matter what i do,” chan teased, laughing hysterically at your glare.  

you moved the conversation into lighter topics, soaking up his presence. though the visit was once again fleeting, you two enjoyed your time together. it was always healing to be with chan. whether you spent your dreams seeing the world or relaxing in a familiar space, you woke up feeling rested, all thanks to spending the night with your other half.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

after chan returned from tour, both of you happily settled into your normal routine. he kept his promise of resting more, much to your delight. rather than having to rush conversations, you could enjoy each other’s company throughout the night, only parting when your alarm went off in the morning. it was easy, natural. of course, there were days when the sunlight hit your eyes and left you feeling empty because that action alone separated you from your person. most days though, you beamed with gratitude because chan was recovering from his strenuous tour and returning to the happy-go-lucky man you knew him to be. 

last night’s dream was particularly wonderful. you and chan strolled around your favorite neighborhood while he told you all his favorite stories from tour. your heart always soared when you listened to the way he talked about seeing stays and joked about the antics he and the boys got up to while traveling. truly, the best part of it all was seeing him happy. the sparkle in his eyes and the upbeat tone of his voice were like a rush of sugar, the sweetest thing in the world. you confessed this to chan when a comfortable silence fell over you, and the last thing you heard before waking up was the sound of him giggling, highlighted by chan’s blushing skin.

perhaps it was chan’s sweetness that had you craving a treat as soon as you opened your eyes. stretching and soaking in the peacefulness of the late morning, you decided to go to your favorite bakery. it was the weekend, after all, and you wanted to do everything you could to maintain the happy mood chan put you in. after getting ready, you made your way to the bakery. the familiar route allowed your mind to wander, unsurprisingly to thoughts of your sweet soulmate.

the first dream you shared with chan was when you were six years old. you swung back and forth on the swingset in a quiet playground, covered nicely by the shade of a large tree. from beside you, a voice you had never heard before asked can i swing here too? you looked over, curious and unalarmed. when you saw the boy with curly brown hair smile shyly at you, you felt the tiniest of butterflies flutter in your stomach. you nodded, introducing yourself when he sat down on the swing next to you, i’m y/n. what’s your name? he grew more confident after hearing your voice, grinning charmingly as he said, i’m chan. it’s nice to meet you, y/n. you two watched the clouds float by, calling out the shapes you saw. in your childhood innocence and bravery, you suddenly asked, are you my soulmate? even as an adult, you could never forget the way chan’s ears turned bright red. how heartwarming it was for him to blush at the word “soulmate!” you didn’t need to hear him say yes, because the pink on his cheeks and the hopefulness in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. you wondered, heart pounding in your chest, if he’d look at you like that the first time he saw you in the real world.

the sound of the bakery door’s bell ringing snapped you out of your reverie. you inhaled the decadent smells of the shop, fresh baked warmth fit for a saturday. your lovestruck thoughts of chan could wait. you had business to attend to. 

you greeted the employees, browsing the items on display. you took your time, selected your treats, and paid at the register. the place wasn’t too full, so you figured you could take a seat at a table near the window to appreciate the cozy ambience for a bit. you scanned for the closest empty table, nearly falling over when you locked eyes with someone.

well, not just someone. chan.

your mouth opened, but you couldn’t produce anything more than a few stammering syllables. chan’s eyes were wide with shock, quickly twinkling with happiness. soon, he started laughing. the sound bubbled out of him as though he were a child set free in a candy store, delighted beyond belief. you started laughing too. before people started to stare, chan waved you over to his table, pulling out a seat just for you.

“fancy seeing you here,” chan giggled through the cheesy line.

you rolled your eyes, smile never leaving your face, “don’t get me wrong. it is absolutely the best surprise in the world to see you here right now. but how does drinking a large coffee count as resting?”

chan lifted the coffee cup between you two, “oh this? i only got this because i couldn’t find a nap buddy anywhere. it looks like my luck might have changed though.”

he winked, making you blush and giggle like a teenager. not wanting to let him have all the fun, you grinned and replied, “i guess my first official duty as your soulmate is getting you to take a nap, isn’t it?”

now it was chan’s turn to blush. your body flooded with fondness, seeing the way his ears turned bright red at the word soulmate as it had when he first heard you say it. chan accepted your order when they called out your name, excitedly commenting on how good your taste was. the pep in his step was visible, though anyone who saw you would say that your pace matched his exactly. you two practically skipped the whole way back to your place, conversation flowing as though seeing each other was your plan all along. 

“can we take a second to talk about how crazy this is? that we finally met? after all these years, we’ve been only a handful of miles away from each other, and we met today?”

chan’s expression was full of glee and disbelief, and you agreed with his sentiment fully, “they really aren’t lying when they say you won’t meet until the time is right,” you paused, reminding yourself that this moment was real, “i do think it’s ridiculous we’ve practically been neighbors this whole time though. no wonder it always felt strange when you were on tour.”

chan pouted, “don’t remind me…that’ll make me feel even worse about leaving…” then, a smile replaced his pout, “at least now we know that every time i come back from traveling, i’ll be coming home to you!”

you returned his smile, only looking away to unlock your door. you slipped off your shoes and made room for chan to come inside. while you’ve dreamt of chan your whole life, nothing was more surreal than seeing him in your home. he looked so much like he belonged there, as though he had been inhabiting the space for as long as you. yet you stood there, staring, unable to believe that your dream had finally come true.

“what are you staring at, mon rêve?” chan asked, smiling sweetly.

“it’s just…” you walked across the room, meeting him halfway, “i can’t believe you’re here.”

chan hummed in agreement. without another word, he intertwined your hands, looking at you intently. you led him to your favorite nap spot, adjusting it so everything was just right. instinctively, your bodies molded together, finding comfort in the shared embrace. mere seconds after thank you left chan’s lips, you both slipped into sleep, breaths falling into your natural harmony.

you weren’t sure how much time had passed when you opened your eyes. it was strange, almost unnerving, to wake up from a dream that did not include chan. before the panic or sadness could settle in, you looked over to the man in your arms. you stared in awe at his lips curling up ever so slightly, his hair in disarray, and his chest rising to the beat of the precious heart you belonged to. every little detail of chan was at your fingertips, and it was more beautiful than any dream you had ever had.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[naughtyneganjdm]

Man for Hire - Chapter 2

Summary: The rest of the night continues after losing your virginity to Negan with the time you still have with him. (PART 1)

Characters: Negan & the reader (OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55642924/chapters/145590163

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, Daddy Kink, Unprotected P in V, Oral, No Use of Y/N, breeding kink, dirty talk, etc.

Notes: I decided to write a part two to this just because my brain felt like there needed to be more. I hope you enjoy! (gif credit: @jdmorganz)

It was amazing how good you felt. There was an ache that lingered inside of you, but you expected so much worse. After seeing how big Negan actually was beneath the belt, you thought by his size that you were going to hurt so much more than you actually did. You felt like you got lucky with the decision that you made. Negan knew how to take care of you and he did it well. You were surprised with how easily he could calm you. Even now, you were at a relaxed state with the sounds of his heavy breaths at the back of your neck. Having his arm laid across your waist almost in a dominant, possessive grasp didn’t make you feel like you were having a one-night stand with a stranger. It made you feel like you belonged to him and that you were his. Maybe it should have bothered you, but it didn’t.

Looking over your shoulder, you let out a long exhale knowing that you were feeling things for this man that you shouldn’t have. Hell, you barely knew him, but you felt like you were hooked on him and that was probably a bad thing. With him sleeping comfortably behind you, you knew that you could get used to this whole thing. And that worried you.

Shifting underneath Negan’s arm, you went to get up hearing his breathing change as you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed, “Where are you going?”

“I have too much energy to sleep,” you explained, looking back over your shoulder in time to see him rolling onto his back to rub at his eyes. The sheet pulled at his hips lowering just enough for you to see the base of his cock where the dark curls of hair surrounded his body that you had gotten used to today. Even though that website you looked at was filled with men that had the bodies of gym rats, you were more drawn to a body like Negan’s. Slender with a small patch of soft flesh beneath his bellybutton. His Adonis belt was more than enough to kickstart your heart in your chest again when you reached out to sweep your fingers over the lines at his hips. It made him faintly smile, his hand lowering down to caress his fingers in over your pulse point. Even tired, his dimples drew attention to that certain charm that he carried.

“I’ll order something from room service for us,” you offered and he gave you a firm nod. “I didn’t really eat today.”

“Sounds good,” he gave you a wink and you could tell that he was trying to wake himself up. Bringing your wrist up, he placed a delicate kiss over the inside of your wrist. It had your breath catching in your throat and you knew that he was aware of what he was doing to you.

Pulling yourself up from the bed after he released your wrist, you headed toward the bathroom to grab one of the robes that they had hanging there. Pulling it on, you walked into the sitting area hearing the sound of movement behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you felt a breath catch in your throat at the sight of him. He had gotten up from the bed and was stretching out his long, slender body. Tipping his head back had the corner of his jaw flexing and there was a slight curve to his back with the way he stretched out his arms. Yawning, he brought his fingers up to stroke them through his now messy hair. Watching him had you smiling involuntarily. Everything about him was breathtaking. There he was standing naked at the middle of your hotel room and you couldn’t believe that was the man you lost your virginity to. He was such a beautiful specimen of a man and you felt like you lucked out.

“You’re staring,” his raspy voice finally pulled your attention away from nearly gawking at him. Your heart skipped a beat, but he seemed to be enamored with the way you were looking at him. A smirk tugged at his lips and he gave you a wink. “I’ll be back.”

Giving him his space, you watched long enough to see him get into the bathroom before going back to order something for the two of you to eat and drink.

“How are you feeling?” Negan’s voice surprised you as he moved into the room with you, pulling together the tie of the robe that he had grabbed for himself to wear. You were almost charmed with the smile that was over his face when he stared down at you. Sliding to the middle of the couch, you gave him room to sit and he dropped down beside you. Wiggling his fingers, he urged you toward him and you did it without question. Bracing his back against the arm of the couch, Negan helped you sit in his lap with both of your legs stretched out on the couch while he wrapped you up in his arms from behind. Nuzzling his nose against the side of your neck, Negan hummed when your fingers hooked with his.

“Better now that I’m in your arms,” you muttered with him snickering against your flesh. It was a ridiculous line, but it was truthful. Together the two of you were facing the large glass panel of the windows in the hotel suite and the lights from the city were still bright drawing your attention.

“Well my arms like having you in them,” Negan nipped at your jawline with a slur. The simple motion drew chills down your spine. You didn’t mean to, but the exhale that you released obviously showed that you were upset hearing that. “What’s wrong?”

“I know you don’t mean that,” you pointed out, sweeping your fingers over the back of his hand when he squeezed you in closer to him. “You are so good at your job, it almost feels real.”

“What about tonight hasn’t been real?” Negan inquired, the warmth of his breath sending chills throughout your body with how close he was to you. It was what you wanted to hear, but you also knew he should have been honest with you. “The two of us shared a very intimate moment together with you having sex for the first time. I very much enjoyed it. And I do like spending time with you. No bullshitting.”

“You don’t know me and I know nothing about you,” you reminded him, tipping your head back finding yourself in awe with the way his long eyelashes fluttered with him looking at you. “Other than the fact you are super charming and incredibly hot.”  

“I think you and I know more about each other than you think,” Negan grumbled under his breath and you rolled your eyes. “The two of us have connected in a way you never have with anyone else. I think that’s a pretty big deal.”

“You know what I mean,” you suggested, tipping your head back enough to notice the amusement in his eyes when he stared down at you.

“Some people you don’t have to know completely to connect with them. Sometimes you just fucking click,” Negan responded which made you smirk. You would have loved for that to have been the case.

“You’re still being paid to be here,” you frowned letting out a tight breath when he started pressing tiny kisses over your jawline. “I have to remind myself of that.”

“Sometimes with my job it helps introduce me to people that I may have never been able to meet. There are those rare cases where you meet someone that you appreciate having a moment with and you’re one of those people for me,” he informed you and you were still unsure with his response. “I don’t think you realize, I’ve put a lot of faith and comfort into this whole thing with you.”

“How so?” you wondered, getting more comfortable in his arms realizing just how at ease you actually were.

“I told you I don’t have unprotected sex with people. It was kind of a big deal. I had to put my trust in you, just like you did me,” Negan explained, peppering faint kisses over your jawline. “Fuck. That’s intimate as hell. I don’t care how much people beg or offer me extra money. I’m not gonna do that. But I did it with you. That alone makes us have a bond.”

“You’re good,” you hummed enjoying the kisses that he was pampering you with over your jawline. It had you turning your head slightly so he could bring your lips together for another kiss that drew chills down your spine. When he pulled away, it took your breath away when he nudged your nose with his in almost an affectionate moment.

“What do you wanna know about me? I’ll be honest with you about everything. Anything you wanna know.”

Turning in his arms, you braced yourself over his waist and Negan tipped his head back to rest it against the arm of the couch. His hands caressed up over your hips toward your lower back in a soothing motion. The top of the robe that he was wearing parted revealing a large part of his chest and the dark curls of hair that were there. Loosely hooking your arms around his shoulders, your eyes narrowed and you tried to think of something to say.

“Are you dating someone?” you wondered, a smirk tugging at Negan’s lips when he lowered his stare. “That’s a yes.”

“That’s a no,” Negan corrected you, his head tipping to the side when he returned his gaze to yours. His Adam’s apple bounced in his throat when he gave a simple shrug of his shoulders. “I’m not dating anyone.”

“Are you married?” you questioned with Negan’s eyebrows arching up, drawing a sigh from deep within him. Hooking your fingers loosely around the necklace that he wore around his neck drew his eyes to the rings that were over his chest. “I kind of picked up on it when you first fell asleep.”

“I’m not married,” Negan shook his head. Your face twisted with disbelief and he sighed loudly. “I’m a widower. My wife died a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you immediately apologized feeling like an asshole, your face flushing over with a warmth. You went to apologize, but Negan’s fingertips covered your lips and he shook his head. When he finally lowered his fingers, he swept his thumb in over your shoulder and you frowned. “That was rude of me.”

“You didn’t know,” Negan refused to let you feel bad about the whole thing. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What happened?” you knew that it was none of your business, but you reached out to stroke over the side of Negan’s face. There was definitely a change to his features once he brought up his late wife and you felt guilty for assuming.

“Cancer,” Negan’s answer was short with his eyes coming to a tight close, leaning into your touch like he cherished it.

“Was this your job when you were with her?” your curiosity had him laughing out, his dimples becoming more prominent when he gave you a shake of his head.

“She was gone a few years before I started this,” Negan answered you with a bit of amusement in his features. “She would have never been okay with me doing this when she was around. And rightfully so. You see…before all this,” Negan paused as if to consider what he was telling you. “I was a gym teacher.”

“Come on,” you chuckled with him nodding his head. “You were a gym teacher.”

“I was Coach Negan,” he almost seemed proud as he continued to tell you about his past. “But I have a temper and I ended up losing my job. I beat the hell out of one of the student’s fathers at a bar one day after he called my wife some very distasteful names. It makes me feel bad because we lived really poorly when my wife was alive. When she died, she had a lot of life insurance plans that I didn’t know about and I ended up inheriting a lump sum of money that she deserved to experience while she was alive.”

“So you don’t need this job then,” you concluded, your eyebrow raising in curiosity.

“No,” Negan confessed with a tip of his head. “I also enjoy the companionship because I was lonely. Plus, I’m good at this. So…”

“Do you have to sleep with everyone?” you pushed, sliding your hands down over his chest, playing with the dark hair that covered it.

“Technically, I’m an escort. Legally, all my job requires of me is giving people companionship. The only way I end up having sex with someone is if we both mutually agree to it,” the tone of his voice changed seeing the way that you smirked and he shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t have to sleep with people if I don’t want to. As long as I give them what they paid for, then I’m fine. Your situation was a bit different than what I’m used to. I think Michonne made an exception for you. My dates vary. There is the romantic dates where people are allowed to touch me, usually those kind of dates people expect something more if I’m comfortable. There are people who just want me to go to special events with them. Some people just want someone to give them company while they are in town. It really depends.”

“So you’ve turned away people with sex?” you inquired hearing him snicker. “I’m sorry for all the questions, I’m just curious. I know you’re what I assume is a high-end escort so you never know with the things that you hear.”

“I think people hear escort and think certain things naturally. I’m allowed to turn sex down. There is no promise of it when I show up,” Negan explained to you, his fingertips caressing up and over the planes of your back toward your neck. “I haven’t had too many crazy experiences though thank God.”

“Too many?” you teased him and he bit at his bottom lip. Leaning in, you pressed a kiss at the side of his neck where the visible vein was. “Let me guess. People get addicted to you. They get jealous. And they stalked you.”

“Something like that,” Negan grunted, tipping his head to the side so you had better access to kiss down over the side of his neck. “Not many people with the name Negan, you know?”

Nodding your head, you continued your kisses over his collarbone pushing the robe that was there aside. Noticing the freckles on his shoulder made you smile when you started peppering feather like kisses over his flesh.

“I’m lucky though because Michonne’s husband is a cop,” Negan explained with his fingers squeezing tighter at your body. Your kisses were doing something to him because his breathing started to grow broken. “He helped me take care of some things. Life is strange.”

Giving a nod, you didn’t want to pry too much since you thought you already overstepped your boundaries with the information about his wife.

“What about you?” Negan breathed, his palms lowering down to squeeze in over your full bottom making you exhale loudly. “How come you waited this long to lose your virginity? There had to be boys and men that were interested.”

“Sure, but you hold out for so long and then it just feels weird anytime you try to bring it up. I dated a few people, some that I thought I would give it up to but…” you paused, your head tipping back knowing that it would be stupid to probably go off about your woes. “Let’s just say I didn’t have the best luck with guys.”

“Why? There is absolutely nothing wrong with you,” Negan insisted dragging his fingers to the tie in your robe. Loosening it, he was careful in the way he pulled apart the material allowing it to fall to your sides. Grasping tightly to your bare hips, he palmed at your flesh before lifting his hands up to cup at your breasts to give them a firm squeeze.

“There is this woman that is in my friend group that kept stealing all my boyfriends. I don’t know why, but every time I started to really like someone she would swoop in and steal them away,” you explained with Negan wrinkling his nose in response. “All of the ones I thought I cared about, she swooped in and she used her charm.”

“Let me repeat what I think I just heard,” Negan began with a frown, biting at his bottom lip when he got more comfortable underneath you. “Your friends group? Why the fuck is that woman your friend and why would your friends be okay with that?”

“It’s something I’ve tried to understand my whole life. I guess some people are just really drawn to her,” you retorted with a frown hating that this was getting sad. “I just stopped trying to lose it after a while. One day I’d like to date someone, but I just kind of wanted this out of the way.”

“I see,” Negan scoffed, his thumb sweeping in over the swell of your breast toward your nipple. “Honey, I think you need to learn to separate yourself from a toxic crowd. It sounds like this woman has done it multiple times. Which is fucked up. We gotta work on your confidence and get you to be a bigger bitch.”

“Is that so?” you were amused with the way his nose wrinkled and he snorted before his thumb circled around your nipple. Dropping your head back, you released a long breath appreciating the way that he touched you.

“Very much so, yes,” Negan grunted from underneath you, lifting up to start pressing hot, wet kisses between the valley of your breasts. When his mouth covered your breast, the warmth of his tongue twisted around your nipple and it had you bracing your hands firmly over his chest. With a disappointed breath, Negan pulled away when he heard the sound of a knock on the door. “Room service.”

“Room service,” you pouted with a smirk, shakily getting up from Negan’s lap to pull together your robe. “I’m sorry.”

“What did you even get?” Negan wondered, his eyebrow arching in curiosity when you moved for the door.

“Oh, you know. Strawberries, whipped cream and champagne,” you answered, stopping to see his reaction. It kind of looked like he was disappointed and you found amusement in that.

“Oh, that’s…” Negan began, biting down on his bottom lip.

“Boring? Typical?” you stressed noticing the confusion in his eyes when you went for the door. Opening up, you accepted the pizza box that the man was holding and grabbed the soda that he brought up with it. Tipping him, you closed the door behind you and noticed that there was a smirk tugging at his lips. “You read like the type of guy who likes pizza.”

“My kinda girl,” Negan chuckled when you sat the pizza box down on the coffee table in front of him along with the soda. Going for the cups you had earlier, you placed one in front of Negan and one down for you. “Not that I would have had a problem with those things.”

“They’re a little too romantic for me,” you confessed taking a seat down next to Negan after he pulled himself up into a seated position. “I’m sure pizza is incredibly sexy to eat and you’ll want to fool around afterwards.”

“Listen, while I would love to eat whipped cream and strawberries off your body, the fact that you got pizza turns me on so much more,” Negan admitted to you with a big cheesy smile causing your heart to flutter when he flipped open the box to grab himself a piece. Taking a big bite of the piece of pizza, he gave you a wink and swallowed down hard.

“The pizza place downstairs stays open all night on the weekends and it’s supposed to be one of the best,” you pointed out, grabbing a piece for yourself and getting comfortable beside him. Negan was in a relaxed position beside you while he took another big bite of the pizza you had gotten. “I’m glad you’re not being one of those people who snubs your nose at real food.”

“Me?” Negan spoke with a mouthful of pizza causing you to smile. “Have you looked at me? I should be saying that about you.”

“You’re the escort,” you reminded him with him dramatically rolling his eyes and shifting on the couch. “Do you have a lot of repeat clients?”

“I do,” Negan nodded his head. Turning slightly so he could face you while you spoke to him.

“Did you ever date one of your clients?” you knew your curiosity could be pushing it, but you didn’t care. This might be the only time you saw Negan, although you highly doubted it. You were liking him way too much for that.

“You mean not for work?” Negan confirmed and you nodded your head. “It’s frowned upon. I don’t think Michonne would like that. It would probably give people the wrong kind of idea. Plus, I don’t think any significant other would be okay with me doing this.”

“Fair enough,” you watched him finish off his piece of pizza and reach for a napkin. He wiped his fingers off and looked at the box that was sitting before him. Waiting to see how long he debated getting a second piece made you smirk. “You can eat another one Negan.”

Bobbing his head about, Negan grabbed another piece and this time the cheese pull was so big that he was ridiculous in the way he was trying to get it into his mouth. It made you laugh and you almost felt like he was being silly just to get a reaction out of you.

“You’re an interesting person,” you stated after swallowing down your bite of pizza. “You’re suave, sophisticated, charismatic, charming, sexy…”

“Keep going,” Negan waved his hand about in the air, a snicker falling from his lips while he continued to eat his pizza. “This goes great for my ego. It’s big already, but I enjoy hearing this kind of stuff.”

“But you’re also silly, laid back and sweet,” you commented on what you had seen from him since he had been here. “You’re incredible at sex, but your real talent is making people feel good about themselves and feel seen. You don’t have to hide the real you from me you know. If you want to eat multiple pieces of pizza, I’m not going to care. I’m not going to find you suddenly unappealing because you eat.”

Shifting on the couch beside you, there was a muscle that twitched in his jaw and he sighed loudly, “The expensive suite and the really nice hotel made me think one thing before showing up here, but you’re really nothing like I expected you to be.”

“I hope that’s a good thing?” you returned back and it made him smile, but also quickly nod. “Maybe I wanted to impress you in some sort of way while also trying to make my first time as magical as it could be. As cheesy as that sounds.”

“You have impressed me. For your first time, that was really good,” Negan assured you with a nod of your head, his smile growing bigger when you rolled your eyes. “One of my favorites really.”

“And now you’re back to lying and doing your job,” you reached out to pat him on the thigh causing him to snort in amusement.

“I’m not,” Negan huffed after swallowing down hard. “I really enjoyed it. And I hope you did too.”

“I think you know I did,” you finished up, wiping your hands off to get them clean. “The only problem is starting with you because it can only go down from there. I’ll expect too much from other people because of how good you are.”

“I’m not lying to you when I tell you that you’re one of my favorites. Not just because of the sex,” Negan insisted again, his eyebrows bouncing up when he spoke. “Not many people ask about me. They have this fantasy and they want to be focused on. You’re one of the only people that actually wanted to learn about me and know me.”

With a weak smile, you outstretched your hand and brushed your fingers into Negan’s dark hair. It had his long eyelashes fluttering to a close and he seemed to enjoy your touch. Caressing at his scalp in a tender sweep, you leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss at Negan’s temple. When you pulled back, his hazel eyes were staring out at you with an expression you hadn’t quite seen from him yet.

There was something that felt different between the two of you while Negan finished off the last piece of his pizza, “You’re being serious about the whole not having unprotected sex with your clients thing?”  

“Why would I lie about that?” Negan responded with a long sigh. “My wife was the last time I did that.”

You both went silent for a minute and you didn’t really know what to say. It got to the point where you thought about Negan leaving in the morning. You’d really enjoyed his company, but at the end of the day it was just a business transaction between the two of you. A dream scenario that you handpicked for yourself. You’d never be able to tell anyone about it other than your best friend, but it was something that you knew you’d never forget.

Sliding forward, you brushed your fingers against the side of Negan’s face and it had his eyes connecting with yours. The way you touched him had him leaning in closer to you, “I’m glad I did this Negan. I may have never been able to meet you otherwise and you are not someone I think I’ll ever forget. You’re perfect.”

Negan’s eyes closed when you traced over his masculine features. Your fingers etched over the scar at the side of his face and you tipped forward to press a kiss over his cheek. Pulling away had him exhaling loudly as you stood up from the couch.

“I’m going to go brush my teeth so I don’t have pizza breath all night,” you declared, pointing toward the bathroom. “I think they have a brand-new toothbrush you can use if you like.”

It didn’t take long for Negan to join you in the bathroom before you were both in front of the mirror brushing your teeth together. It seemed like Negan was paying close attention to you and it felt like the mood changed slightly after what you said.

A moment later, Negan playfully nudged you with his hip and you rolled your eyes. It still got a smile out of you though. Once you were both done, you were cleaning up a bit before you felt Negan moving in behind you. Grasping onto your hips, Negan lowered down allowing the warmth of his breath to hover over your neck. It had a breath catching in your throat and you leaned back closer to him when his lips faintly pressed in over your flesh. Each kiss grew in strength with him pampering your neck with wet kisses that had chills flooding throughout your veins.

Having the mirror to watch his reflection in enhanced the sensation so much more. Not only did it feel incredible, but getting to see him do it? Well that was an extra added bonus. Nipping at your flesh, his finger grasped a hold of the material of your robe to push it away from your shoulder. Trailing his lips down over your neck and toward your shoulder had you tipping your head to the side, enjoying the way it felt with him leaving tiny bites at your flesh before kissing over it. Purring out, you felt the sensation of his fingers curling around your throat. In most cases you didn’t know if you would trust other people grasping your throat like he was, but the way he did it left you hotter than you could begin to imagine. Lifting his eyes, Negan stole a quick look at you in the mirror with a wicked smirk tugging at his handsome lips. Outstretching his fingers, he grasped a tight hold of your jaw and growled when he nuzzled his nose in against the side of your neck.

Dropping his free hand down, Negan’s fingers started loosening the knot in your robe to get it apart. Once the material started to separate, it took no time for him to push it from your body helping it to drop down to pool around your ankles. Every part of you felt like it was on fire with the way that his eyes ate every inch of your body alive in the reflection of the mirror.

Gasping out, you felt his free arm curling around your waist to pull you flush against him. The hold he had on you was possessive with his palm caressing up over your abdomen drawing lines over your flesh. As the warmth of his palm etched under your breasts, it had you exhaling loudly causing him to smile. Cupping one of your breasts, he tested the flesh in his grasp. An extended sigh fell from your parted lips with his fingertips circling over your nipple turning it to a hardened peak. It was obvious by the way he was that Negan liked to be in control of things, but you liked it.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Negan slurred with his kisses pressing over your ear, nipping at your earlobe when you braced your hands over the bathroom counter. Turning your head slightly, you met his lips in a drawn-out kiss that took your breath away. You wondered if there was something this man wasn’t good at because so far? He was doing a hell of a job making you swoon over every aspect of him. Breaking away, Negan slid his hands down over your body to grab a tight hold of your hips. His right hand slid in over the small of your back, tracing up over the planes of it toward your shoulders. Putting a small amount of pressure there, he got you to lean forward bracing your hands on the counter. Staring at his expressions in the mirror, you felt a lump growing in your throat when his palms squeezed over your fleshy bottom. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“I was thinking the same thing about you,” you purred catching the smirk that tugged at his handsome features when his eyes lifted to meet your stare in the mirror. Biting down on your bottom lip, you moaned when he lowered down to start pressing kisses down your back. A breath caught in your throat when Negan lowered down behind you, his hands squeezing firmly at your thighs. Urging you to spread your legs, a growl fell from his throat when your body was fully exposed to him.

“You have such a pretty little pussy,” Negan rumbled, the warmth of his breath lingering over your flesh. Dropping your head forward, you enjoyed the way that Negan’s hands caressed over your body before pressing in over your cheeks to spread your flesh to get better access to your tight hole. Leaning in, Negan teased the tip of his tongue over your entrance enticing you with the idea of him pleasuring you and it had you mewling out. Faint kisses followed with your eyes closing tightly making it easy for you to focus on what he was doing. Each movement of his mouth over your body grew wetter, his slurping causing a whimper to fall from your throat. Grasping tighter to the counter, your heart hammered in your chest with the way he was focusing on your entrance with his tongue delving inside of you delivering you some of the most extreme, unexpected pleasure of the night. Whining out when he pulled his head back had him snickering. His rough fingertips replaced his mouth, teasing long lines up and over your sensitive folds. “Fuck, you are driving me crazy.”

“Negan,” you panted his name when he circled his fingers over your entrance before pushing his middle finger unhurriedly into the depths of your warmth.

A pleased sound escaped him in a deep rumble of a groan. The pull back and push forward of his long slender digit inside of you had you biting down firmly on your bottom lip. When he inserted another finger, you whined out enjoying the ways in which he had already learned your body after one time with him. Rhythmically his fingers moved inside of you, leaving your thighs tremoring with the motions. Balancing your weight better over the counter, you heard Negan humming to himself which was followed by him nipping at your bottom.

“I think you’re ready for me,” Negan declared pulling his fingers from your body when he carefully raised up from the ground. Your body was so eager for an orgasm that he had worked up inside of you, but it almost felt like when he got you just about there, he stopped on purpose. Behind heavy eyelids, you watched in the mirror as Negan very slowly undid the knot in his robe. You’d seen him naked before, but you didn’t want to miss it as the material parted. Shimmying out of the robe, Negan let it slide down his arms and drop at his feet allowing you to see his naked form in the reflection. Lifting his fingers up to his lips, Negan licked at the tips before lowering his palm back down to curl his fingers around his solid manhood. “Y’know, you turned out to be quite the surprise.”

“In a good way I hope,” you gazed back over your shoulder to steal a look at his straining erection while he unhurriedly stroked over his body. Stepping in behind you, Negan released his cock letting it bob with his movement. Gasping, you dropped your head back down when Negan’s grasp over your hips moved you where he needed you. Watching Negan in the mirror now, you could see his jaw flexing when he squeezed at your bottom.

“In the best of ways,” Negan retorted with a growl, the weight of his cock resting over your bottom drawing your hips back closer to him. It had him smiling with how eager you were, but he just curled his fingers around the base of his erection, tapping it against your flesh. “Most virgins, they act shy and scared. But not you. You didn’t even flinch when you saw me naked.”

“Because I knew I wanted you more than anything,” you admitted, licking your lips feeling your pulse jumping in your throat when Negan’s eyes lifted. An amused expression filled Negan’s features with what you said. Taking one step back, Negan teased the tip of his cock over the length of your sex collecting your arousal over it. Repeatedly he teased himself up over your body before down again. “Please.”

“You are something else,” Negan snickered, bending his knees slightly to smack his cock up against your clit which had you whimpering out. After a few repeated movements, Negan pulled back and smirked. Lining his body up with yours, he pushed his hips forward. Moaning out in unison, you kept your eyes locked on his when he took his time filling you again. “Good girl.”

Pushing his hands up your sides, Negan caressed over the lengths of your body when he bottomed out inside of you. Curling his hands around the front, his rough fingertips drew lines over your abdomen before meeting your breasts to cup them in a tender squeeze. Staring down, Negan licked his lips when he pulled his hips back drawing his cock almost completely out of you before thrusting forward sinking almost completely into you again.

“You take daddy’s big cock so well. And you want every inch of it,” Negan slurred, biting down on his bottom lip when he started a slow pace between you. Every smack forward of his hips drew forth a loud sound that echoed, but got you loved it. “You like me being balls deep inside of you. You just shake in euphoria. I can see in your eyes…”

“I’ve never felt anything like it,” you cooed, bracing your right hand better on the counter before reaching back with your left hand to grasp at his hips. “Harder.”

With a deep rumble of a growl, Negan stepped in closer to you having you gasp out. His right hand covered yours, hooking his fingers with yours and then his left hand braced on the counter. Giving you what you asked, his hips thrusts grew stronger with his lower abdomen smacking up against your bottom.

“God, you are so fucking perfect,” Negan rumbled, his left hand lifting to curl around your jaw. Using a bit of force had him pulling you back close to him with him kissing down over your jawline. Nipping at your flesh had you wincing, but you liked the way he made you feel like you belonged to him. “Your hot, tight little pussy feels so good around my big cock. You know that?”

“Negan,” you panted his name, fighting to keep your eyes open with the way he was smacking up against you. Your hips were pressed against the counter and you were up on your tip toes. The deep plunges of his body felt absolutely incredible like this, but you were having a hard time staying on your feet. “Fuck…”

Letting go of your fingers, Negan’s right hand dropped between your thighs. His rough fingertips finding your sensitive bundle of nerves while he caressed over it in unison with his thrusts. Your moans grew louder and by the expression over his face he was pleased.

“Take a good look at yourself. You should be proud,” Negan kissed at your jawline again, nipping at your earlobe afterwards. “You knew what you wanted and you took it. You took it like a fucking boss and no one can ever take that from you.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest. The wet sounds his body was making inside of you was driving you crazy. Negan stretched you, filled you in ways that you could never imagine and he made sure you were focused so you could feel every ounce of it.

“Look at how fucking beautiful you are,” Negan palmed down over your chest, grasping firmly to your breast while he fucked you. “You are so fucking perfect.”

Whining out, you dropped your head back against his shoulder when your thighs started to tremble, your hips rocking back against his movements. Negan bit at your neck, peppering kisses afterwards in a soothing fashion. He was going to leave a mark, but you didn’t care. Your breathing grew louder, the sounds of your heart pulsating in your head letting you know he was bringing you right to the edge. A few more sharp thrusts forward had you crying out, a liquid rush of warmth flooding your entire body when he snickered against your flesh.

“Good girl,” Negan praised you, stopping his movements to experience your orgasm as your body flexed around his. Licking his lips in a drawn-out fashion, Negan pulled his cock from your body, but his movements were fast when he hooked his arm around your waist to turn you and set you down on top of the counter. Pulling you to the edge of it, Negan led his manhood back to your ready entrance. Sinking back into you with ease, the vein at the side of Negan’s neck bulged and it had you bracing your hands back on the counter. “Watch my big cock fucking you…”

Doing as you were told, you dropped your head down seeing every pull back and push forward of his girthy length as it moved inside of you, “Who does your tight little pussy belong to?”

“It belongs to you,” you panted, hissing out when you felt Negan’s fingers curling around your throat. Meeting his stare, Negan stepped closer to you causing you to whine with him filling you completely again. Capturing your lips with his, Negan demanded you to kiss him. It was powerful, it was wet and it was everything you wanted in that moment. You wanted to be made his and it felt like he was claiming that ownership on you. Brushing his tongue against yours had you purring out, your arms clinging around his shoulders with his thrusts now growing faster. With a wet sound, your mouths separated and Negan smiled. “It’s all yours.”

“Yes, it is,” Negan agreed with a wickedly sexy smile tugging at his features. His hair had grown slightly damp with sweat, clinging to his flesh. “I could just fuck you all day and night. You know that? You feel so fucking good.”

“Negan,” your nails bit into his shoulders and you wondered if it was bad that you did that, but it was involuntary. You didn’t mean to, but he didn’t seem to care when his lips tampered off over the side of your neck. Palming up over the back of his neck, you sank your fingers into his hair and panted in his ear. “Your big cock feels so good inside of me.”

With an amused rumble, Negan hooked his arm around your body picking you up with his strength. Grasping tightly to him, you were surprised with his strength when he carried you out of the bathroom and to the living room. Dropping down with you over the couch, Negan urged your legs around his waist. Adjusting his positioning, Negan hovered his lips over yours and braced himself. The dark curls of hair from his chest teased against your nipples with the skin-to-skin contact. His hips started to roll over yours keeping himself pretty deeply inside of you to start.

“I never want to leave your fucking pussy,” Negan rumbled bringing your lips together in multiple sloppy kisses that had you sucking at his tongue. The sound of Negan’s moan was one of your favorite things so far. Knowing that you could draw that out from him made you feel so good about yourself. As each thrust grew harder, you felt his testicles smacking up against your flesh and you were thankful to have him filling you like this. It ached being stretched by his impressive cock, but you liked the way it felt. You were desperate for more of it.

“I never want you to leave,” you drew your tongue over his lips and he hummed in approval. Nipping at his bottom lip, you gave it a tug and the sound that fell from his throat was so delicious. Your heels dug into the flesh at his thighs with him smacking up against you. Outstretching his left arm, Negan grasped a hold of the arm of the couch to help him slow down his movements but make them harder. Smack. Smack. Each thrust was loud with your flesh hitting his. A smirk tugged at his lips, his head throwing back with a moan falling from his parted lips. His lower abdomen flexed, his throat tensing up with the way he was moving. “Do you like that pussy?”

“I fucking love that pussy,” Negan slurred with a nod, a line of sweat sliding down from his temple. “It feels so fucking good.”

“Pound my pussy. Please,” you begged and it had Negan snicker before nodding his head. You whined when he pulled his cock from your body with a wet sound. Pouting, it didn’t last long before he turned you onto your stomach. Lowering in over you, Negan curled his arm around your waist bracing himself with his left arm. He was back inside of you in seconds, his thrusts starting off immediately fast. Your cries were louder. In this position, his legs were surrounding yours, the warmth of his body radiant over your back making you feel trapped, but in the best of ways. “Oh my god…”

Negan’s lips kissed at your jawline, his moans matching yours. You were definitely going to be feeling this one later. You asked, he was delivering. Turning your head just enough, you begged for him to kiss you and he obliged. His tongue colliding with yours when you parted your lips just enough for him. His moans vibrated against your flesh and you purred out.

“Don’t stop,” you whined, keeping your lips pressed against his. You were growing incredibly sensitive, your hips pulling up, but his movements followed yours not allowing you to get away from him. Grasping tightly to the arm of the couch, you cried out when your body violently shook and an amused sound fell from Negan. Your head ached, your heart hammering when you felt the wetness at the back of your thighs.

“There is no bigger compliment than that of a woman squirting all over you,” Negan spanked at your ass, while you still trembled before him. Before you could even consider what was happening, Negan was back inside of you pounding away at your already sensitive body drawing you closer to the edge of the couch with your coos and cries. It wasn’t long before you were smacking at his thigh again having him pull back just in time for another wet sound to fill the room with Negan’s fingers caressing over your clit to enhance the extraordinary amounts of pleasure that followed. It left you breathless when Negan crawled in behind you to cuddle his face in against yours. “You are so much fun.”

“You’re going to kill me,” you announced with a tired breath and Negan snickered.

“Death by sex is a good way to go,” he retorted, nipping at your jawline again. “I’m so fucking glad I took this call tonight. You have easily become my favorite.”

Drawing kisses down over your shoulders and over the length of your back had you purring out. You were too worn out to move in that moment, but you enjoyed the way he cherished your body. The warmth of his lips over your spine made you take in a sharp breath before he squeezed at the flesh of your ass. When he nipped at your cheek it had you hissing out before looking over your shoulder at him.

“Sit,” you breathed out wondering if you had it in you to continue. With a smirk, Negan nodded and got into a seated position. His cock twitched and he growled out when you started to move on the couch. Stroking his fingers over his girthy length brought attention to the swollen tip. Moving carefully over him, you allowed him to lead his cock back into your wet hole and you whined. God, you were so fucking sensitive at this point. Reaching for Negan’s hands, you forced them against the back of the couch and he smiled a big wolfish type of smile.

Taking your time to get used to the control, you carefully lowered your hips down over him before lifting them up. It took a while for you to get used to it before you started a steady pace between the two of you.

“That cock is all yours sweetheart,” Negan muttered, his dimples prominent when you leaned in closer to hover your lips over his. “It’s all yours.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” you dropped your hips down, taking all of him in which had him groaning out, his head dropping back against the couch. You shook over him, your fingers squeezing tighter to his. Circling your hips over his had his cock drawing slightly in and out of you with each movement you made. “I want you to come inside me. Fill my pussy with your cum.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan started bouncing his hips up toward yours over and over again. Loud fleshy smacks surrounded the both of you with your jaw resting over Negan’s shoulder. You tried to keep up, but you let go of his hands allowing them to grasp your hips while he bounced you over his length. “You like the feeling of daddy filling you with his seed?”

“Yes,” you panted, trying to hold in your cries, but you couldn’t. “So much.”

“Daddy is gonna pump you so full of his cum that it’s going to be dripping down your thighs,” Negan promised with a smirk, forcing you forward. Gasping out, you were surprised with his quickness. Laying you out across the coffee table, Negan got on his knees keeping your hips right at the edge. “You’d make such a perfect little breeder wouldn’t you?”

“Yes daddy,” you felt his hands hooking with yours again while his hips bounced up into yours.

“With your perfect little wet pussy,” Negan hummed, the lines in his forehead growing while he had his way with you. “Just begging to have me come inside of you again and again…”

“Please,” you panted biting down on your bottom lip, lifting your hips to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck,” Negan dropped his stare looking down between the two of you, his thrusts growing stronger. “I’m gonna fill you up so good. Paint the walls of your pretty little pussy with my cum.”

“Yes daddy,” you gasped when you felt the first twitch of his cock inside of you. The sound of Negan’s moans and the slowing of his hips alerted you to his release. Crying out, you felt the table tipping having you both land on the floor with a thud. Taking advantage you rolled Negan onto his back and slowly rocked your hips over his still pulsating cock. “I want every…last…drop.”

Each moan you drew out of Negan delighted you and you loved the way the warmth of him filled you. He wasn’t wrong, you felt his cum starting to seep out of you dripping down your thighs and you liked it. It felt good. You felt like you were his and you couldn’t get enough of it.

Laying in over his chest, you didn’t pull your body away. He was still very much inside of you and Negan was left panting beneath you. Kissing at his chest, you teased your tongue over his nipple before sucking faintly at it. Lowering your head down, you listened to his heart pounding inside of his chest. Surprise filled your body when Negan wrapped you up in his arms and held you tightly to him.

“I uh…” Negan slurred, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat when you lifted your head from his chest to look up at him. “I don’t think I want you to belong to anyone else.”

“What do you mean?” you wondered, confused where he was heading with this.

“I mean, I want your pussy to be solely mine,” Negan confessed, his jaw flexing when he firmly smacked over your bottom making you arch forward, only slightly drawing his softening cock out of you. Dropping your hips back down had the most delicious groan falling from him. “I want to be the only man that can fill you with my cum. I want to be the man making you squirt…I want you to belong to me.”

“I can probably only afford this once or twice more,” you alerted him with a frown, starting to press faint kisses over his lips. “I wish I could. More than anything, I would love to be yours. But it’s a fantasy you’re selling and you sell it well. Trust me, I will pay for another date.”

“No,” Negan grumbled, rolling you over onto your back which had you whimpering out arching your hips up. His lips parted and he pulled his hips back. Finally allowing his softening cock to leave the warmth of your body. Staring down, Negan watched his cum pouring out of you before he got settled between your thighs. Unhurriedly, he collected some of his cum that spilled from your body. Pushing his fingers back inside of you, he made sure to rub his fingertips against the walls of your pussy. “I don’t want another man having you. I want you to be mine.”

“I want to be yours too,” you purred, arching your hips up seeing him smirk when he pulled his long slender digits from your body. Reaching for his hand, you wrapped your lips around his fingers to clean the taste of your bodies from them. It had him groaning out and he lowered down to steal kiss after kiss from you. Enjoying the taste of his release on your tongue.

The conversation almost felt forgotten with the two of you laying together on the floor. It was a while before you gathered yourselves enough to make it back to the bedroom. Being wrapped up in Negan’s arms felt incredible. Neither one of you really slept. You just laid there together. After the sun had started to rise, Negan had crawled in over you again. What was surprising was this time, it actually felt more romantic. Sensual. His thrusts were slow, his kisses more focused. The eye contact was incredible and it was more so about the two of you being connected. By the time his winces started to fill the air, you curled your fingers around the back of his neck and allowed him to nuzzle his nose against the side of your neck when his orgasm hit him. Your cries vibrated against his ear, while he moaned against your flesh.

Laying over you, you both seemed incredibly comfortable while you stroked your fingers through his hair. Looking to the clock, you felt a bit of disappointment when you saw the time, “Our time is up.”

“Just a little while longer,” Negan stammered against your flesh and you held him close. Pressing kisses over his freckle covered shoulders. When he did start to move, you felt miserable. It was a perfect dream that he sold during the night, but it wasn’t real. You always knew that. Negan threw his legs over the side of the bed, sitting on the edge of it for a few minutes. It looked like he was deep in thought while you pulled the blankets in closer to your body. “This really was amazing.”

“Yeah,” you nodded your head, a weak smile tugging at your lips. “I really liked spending the time with you. You’re phenomenal.”

“Right,” Negan chuckled, reaching out to squeeze over your exposed thigh that was out from the blanket. “You know, if we would have met another way…I would have loved…”

“Don’t say that,” you stopped him, feeling your chest aching at the thought. “You told me yourself you don’t date people. It’s against the rules. You like this job. And I’m just a job…”

“It’s against the rules to have unprotected sex with a client,” Negan reminded you, his jaw flexing as if he was contemplating his next thought. Well, there you couldn’t call him out because he had been very honest with you. “We did it several times. Which brings me to my next point, I don’t usually sleep with my clients that much. Nor do I still want to stay when my time is up.”

“I almost believe you with that last point,” you reached for his hand, bringing it to you so you could deposit a kiss against the center of his palm. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of clients that you liked just as much and didn’t want to leave in the morning.”

Frowning, Negan swallowed down hard and stood up from the bed. Going for his pants, Negan pulled them on slowly and stood by the side of the bed looking down at you.

“I’ll be sure to let Michonne know how amazing this was. How professional you were,” you stressed and it had Negan’s right eyebrow arching up. “Job well done, Negan. You’ll have a return customer. Just maybe only one or two more times.”

“Yeah,” Negan bit down on his bottom lip, something in his hazel eyes making the moment feel awkward. “I mean it when I say if things were different, I really would want you to be mine. I meant what I said when we were together in the living room. It’s just with my job, I know that I would get fired and…”

“I paid you to take my virginity Negan,” you reminded him, pulling the blanket in closer to you realizing how pathetic that actually sounded. “You didn’t come here because you wanted a date with me. You had a job, you did your job and you did it well. You don’t have to keep selling me on the romance because I know I’m just a job. I know I wouldn’t be your type. In the real world, this would have never happened. But thank you for allowing me that fantasy.”

Caressing his hand over the side of his face, Negan dragged his fingers out through his short beard and shrugged his shoulders, “You’re not like the other ones.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you breathed out knowing like hell that you wanted to be the one special person to make Negan want to break all the rules, but it didn’t logically make any sense. You were just some virgin. There was nothing you brought to the table for a man like that. “So you’re telling me you’ve never told another one of your clients that if things were different you would have no problem dating them?”

Silence followed. Negan’s head tipped to the side, his lips parted and he looked like he wanted to say something. Instead he lowered his head and a loud exhale fell from his throat, “That’s what I thought. I’m not the first person you used that line on.”

“You’re the first person I meant it with,” Negan suggested almost in a whisper, but you had a hard time letting that protective wall down. It was an amazing thought, but he was still telling you that it could never happen.

“I don’t know why you’re saying this to me when at the end of the day, it’s never going to happen anyways. It’s only going to hurt me hearing this shit. You don’t have to keep selling your feelings on me. Like you said, you can’t do it and you’ll lose your job. It’s not happening,” you stressed what he said and you slid up in the bed resting your back against the headframe. “I just don’t want to hear the bullshit. You don’t mean it. You sold me on you. I’d rather you be honest. This was a great fantasy you sold. I don’t need you to tell me that you wish you could date me. I’m not going to get my lines crossed. I know this was a business transaction. One that I will be feeling for a while. Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Negan swallowed down hard, taking a moment to stand there before nodding his head. “You really are the only one I’ve had unprotected sex with.”

“I believe that,” you stammered looking to the time feeling like this was just getting more and more awkward with him trying to make you feel special.

“No one ever tried to learn about the real me either,” Negan informed you, his fingers clenched together in fists at his side. “The rest of them just want to talk about themselves. No one ever cares about the real me. What I’m about. About my late wife…”

“And that’s unfortunate because I think you’re a very likable guy that deserves real love Negan,” you declared with a bounce of your eyebrows. An expression flooded his features that you couldn’t quite read, but it didn’t last long before he nodded. Heading off throughout the room, Negan collected his clothes and put them on haphazardly. Keeping his jacket in his hand at his side, Negan pointed toward where you were laying on the bed. “Yeah?”

“Are you staying?” Negan questioned and you shrugged.

“I paid for the room until noon, I might as well stay and enjoy the view,” you explained pointing toward the window having Negan dramatically nod his head. “Thank you again.”

Negan shifted on his feet looking between you and the door. Then his eyes fell on the clock. It was quite some time after he was supposed to leave. Motioning him to wait, you reached for something from the top drawer of the nightstand that was beside the bed. Pulling something out had his eyes looking down to see that you had more money that was there.

“Here, take this as a tip,” you outstretched your hand, trying to hand him over the money. Shaking his head, Negan refused and you sighed. “You said you slept with me more than you did most people. Tipping you is allowed, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Negan breathed out still refusing to reach for the money. “I don’t want your money.”

“That’s a little ironic, isn’t it?” you dropped your hand seeing Negan shrug his shoulders and make a dramatic expression.

“I did it because I wanted to. Not because you forced me to,” Negan stressed once more hearing his phone buzzing in his pocket. Frowning, Negan pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at who it was before swiping it away. Pushing it back into his pocket, Negan bit down on his bottom lip and frowned. “Keep your money.”

“Was that Michonne?” you were curious. With one nod of his head it made you smirk. “She’s probably checking in to see how things went.”

“Yeah,” Negan was short with his answer, biting down on his bottom lip before backstepping toward the door. “I guess I should go.”

Instead of saying anything, you sighed and put your money back since Negan refused to take it.

“Do you want a kiss?” Negan offered, throwing his hand up and you laughed, giving him a strange look. “What?”

“No more bullshit,” you repeated what you had said earlier and he frowned. “You don’t want to kiss me. It’s okay. You can leave. I promise you I’m happy with what you did.”

“Okay,” Negan huffed rubbing at the back of his neck again before heading back toward the door. Opening it up, you felt a sudden rush of depression knowing that this whole incredible night was just something that was made up. Closing your eyes, you dropped your head back and wanted the world to swallow you whole. The sound of the door opening was heard, but you never heard it close. A moment later you felt the bed dip, the sensation of lips claiming yours kissing you over and over again before pulling unhurriedly away. “I do want to kiss you goodbye. No bullshit.”

Slowly, your eyes fluttered to an open with Negan sweeping his thumb over your bottom lip to collect the wetness that was over them. Gradually moving back, Negan gave you a wink before heading for the door. Once he left, you knew that you would never tell anyone about this moment in full. It was too incredible. Too personal and you just knew that you couldn’t think too much into it.

When it hit noon, you had the hotel room cleaned up, you were dressed in your casual clothes and you were headed down to the first floor to check out. The dream was over and you were going to feel it for a while. Once you stepped out of the line, you went to head for the door until you heard someone calling out to you.

“Excuse me, miss…” a familiar raspy voice called out to you and you turned on your heel to see that Negan was sitting in the waiting area at the front of the hotel. Getting up from his seat, he moved before you and offered a weak smile. “I know this is bold, but I just saw you walking by and I just had to say hello. My name is Negan…”

“What are you doing?” you laughed looking down at his hand. Bouncing his eyebrows, Negan nodded toward his hand and you accepted the gesture. “You’re not on the clock anymore Negan.”

“No, you see, I was just sitting here after a long night,” Negan pointed back over toward where he was waiting and he shrugged his shoulders. “And then I saw you…and I just realized that I had to take my shot. I was wondering if maybe you weren’t busy you would want to get some coffee or maybe some lunch with me today?”

“Like a date?” you whispered, confusion flooding your veins. Your question made him smile and he nodded slowly.

“Like a date,” he repeated, his fingers curling around yours tightly. “You see, I’m not working today and I am just completely enchanted by you.”

“Negan…” you stammered his name when he stepped forward and the warmth of his body sent a rush of excitement throughout your veins just having him near you since you didn’t know when you’d ever see him again. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I don’t have to do anything. In fact, I run away from the idea of something like this because I’ve never made that kind of connection with someone in a long time. But I want to get to know you,” Negan reasoned with you, his free hand lifting to brush his thumb over your jaw. “But this is something that I want to do. That is…if you’ll have me that is.”

“Absolutely,” you smirked, your heart hammering in your chest with the way he was staring down at you. “What about the rules? The possibility of losing your job?”

“Michonne doesn’t have to know every aspect of my life,” Negan insisted, his dimples becoming more prominent as he spoke. “You’re worth the risk.”

“So I keep hearing,” you were enamored by how he kept saying that toward you. Considering he waited for you that whole time made you swoon. It was hard to deny him after that and the way he approached you. “I do have to warn you though Negan. I’m a little hard to get.”

“Good, me too,” Negan teased with a wrinkle of his nose which had the both of you laughing. “You ready to go?”

“With you?” you muttered and it had him nodding. “I’ll go anywhere.”

----

Tags: @slutlanna976​ @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @pixelb4rbie @ibelongtonegan

@smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams  @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan

@redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted

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@sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf

@promiscuousbarnes @tone-stark @lanadelnegan @peachihellcat

[vanteguccir]

I NEED Matt and sick reader, pure fluff, where she refuses to believe that she’s ill so he has to manhandle her, forcing her to stay in bed. He’s rough with her physically, but his soft words and sweet please take away from that because all he wants is for her to be okay

── ୨୧ !　a small blurb where Matt has to force you to stay in bed only because you can't accept that you're still sick

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

The sun was barely peeking through the curtains when Y/N groggily opened her eyes, feeling the weight of a fever already pressing down on her. She tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness sent her back onto the pillows. She took a deep breath and told herself she was fine, that her sickness from last night was already healed, pushing herself up again and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her body ached, but she was determined to stick to her usual routine.

Matt, who had been sleeping lightly, attentive to everything - as he always did when his girl was feeling vulnerable -, stirred at the sound of her movements. He rubbed his eyes and glanced over at Y/N, immediately noticing her pale complexion and the sweat beading on her forehead.

"Y/N, sweetheart, you need to rest." He said softly, reaching out to touch her arm.

She shook her head stubbornly.

"I’m fine, Matt. I just need to get moving."

Matt sat up and gently but firmly took hold of her shoulders, guiding her back onto the bed.

"You’re not fine, baby. You’re burning up." His voice was calm, but the concern in his eyes was unmistakable. "Please, just lie down. You need to let your body heal."

Y/N tried to protest, but Matt’s hold was unyielding. He carefully pushed her down onto the mattress, his hands strong but his touch gentle.

"Matt, I can’t just lie here all day." She argued weakly, her voice betraying how unwell she felt.

"Y/N, you have to listen to me." Matt said, his tone firm but loving. He brushed a stray hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "I know you want to get up and do your routine things, but right now, the best thing you can do is rest. You’re not going to get better if you push yourself."

She pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I hate feeling useless."

"You’re not useless, sweetheart." Matt cooed, leaning down to press a tender kiss to her forehead. "You’re sick, and it’s okay to take a break. I’ll take care of everything today and use Nick and Chris's help, too. All you need to do is focus on getting better."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes softening at the genuine concern in his expression. She sighed, finally relenting.

"Okay, but just for today."

Matt smiled and kissed her forehead again.

"That’s my girl." He adjusted the blankets around her, making sure she was comfortable. "I’ll bring you some tea and something light to eat. Just relax and let me take care of you."

[laiiaaa]

FAIR PLAY — RAFE CAMERON

summary: You spend a sleepy morning with Rafe.

length: 2k

contains: literally no plot, so so so much fluff, Rafe calling you baby nonstop because I just know he would, Rafe being downright obsessed and makes it painfully obvious, suggestive comments, some teasing, short n' sweet n' bubbly

You wake up to kisses on your neck, an arm wrapped around your waist, and a sore back. Your legs are tangled with Rafe’s beneath his bedsheets as the warmth of his touch starts to consume you again. You open your eyes but quickly let them slide closed again once you see through the open window a bright blue sky, telling you the sun rose hours ago; what’s a little more wasted time?

“Mmm,” you groan, not yet lively enough for conversation but still wanting to make your awareness known. 

Rafe smiles and presses a kiss to your shoulder. “ ‘S that mean ‘I love you’ in some other language?” The arm slung over your body comes back to life, and his hand rubs along your waist and hip.

You keep your eyes closed and face nuzzled into the pillow, soaking in the feeling of his touch and the mid-morning breeze through the window. “My back hurts.”

“Oh, my poor baby,” he coos, kissing your jaw and before propping himself up on his elbow and slipping his hand from your waist up to your face to brush your hair out of the way. “Did I fuck you too good last night?” Another kiss, this time to your cheek. “I’ll make a note for next time.”

Bastard.

You turn away from him, grumbling out the words Shut up as you start pulling the covers over your head. He grabs your wrist before you’re too far gone, laughing to himself something sweet that has your heart reeling back to him, and he puts more of his weight on you with his arm wrapping around you much tighter. His muscles flex against you and he smells of coffee and oakmoss cologne and everything that feels like home.

“Come on, love, you know I’m just teasing.” He knows he’s more convincing this way, when he lays the charm on thick, but you’re stubborn this morning. Maybe he did fuck you too good. Your silence makes him impatient, and he gently pinches your arm. “Baby?”

You groan again, trailing off to shut him down. You could get used to this, having him love on you all day in bed as you stay somewhere between sleep and cognizance. 

“Baby.” He pouts. He gives another kiss to your shoulder and he thinks he might die if you don’t return the favor soon.

You shuffle in his arms, turning your body to face his and hooking your leg over his waist. “Rub my back, please?”

After pressing a kiss to your temple, he answers, “Of course.” His frown is quickly replaced by a big grin and a spark in his heart. Without pulling you from his chest, he shifts to lay on his back and pulls you to lay on him with your legs now straddling his waist, mussing the sheets further by doing so. Your weight on his body in full just feels right, like he should keep you glued to him. “In exchange for a kiss?”

You smile against his skin, letting your hands roam to feel him, smooth beneath you. You kiss his collarbone and his hands press against your lower back, soothing your aches just right, and you quickly press your lips to the other side of his chest to pay him back. 

Planting your hands against his chest, you lift your head. Rafe looks good like this, with morning light and a backdrop of ivory silk sheets, and you quickly lean in to taste the coffee on his lips. His arms curl a little tighter against you, hands rub a little firmer, and he smirks into your kiss as one hand presses between your shoulder blades, warmth erupting in your stomach. You pull away and he chases your lips, though you leave him with only a peck to the corner of his mouth. The playful smile you wear makes him fall that much harder.

You let your head rest against him and his hands resume their job. It feels so natural, laying with him in nothing but your underwear; he brings you a comfort no one has before, and as his rough and calloused hands caress your skin you can only think about how lucky you are to see this side of him. 

His chest rises and falls with his breath, and you trace shapes into his skin. Rafe wasn’t always like this, so physically affectionate with you. There was a time when he kept up his guard and had a hard shell to crack; slowly but surely, he soon realized, you brought it crumbling to the ground. He often thinks about what his life was like before you: it was dull, it was empty, it was unfulfilling and boring and isolating. You bring to him a contentment he didn’t think was possible. Your body slotted against his keeps him sane.

“Hey, Rafe?” You tilt your head to see his face again. 

He smiles down at you, speaking softly, “Yes, baby?”

You start shifting in your position, propping yourself up again as you hum to yourself and hold his face in the palms of your hands. You stop to stare at him, observing his smooth, tanned skin; the faintest freckles dotted over his nose and cheeks; his bright blue eyes that tell you everything; his smile tugging at his lips. “You’re so beautiful,” you think out loud—and he is, though the million ways he shows he loves you make the physical pale in comparison. Your thumbs brush against his cheeks, now flushed at your candor.

“Stop that.” He bites back a smile and pushes your face away. “You can’t say that.”

You laugh softly at his bashfulness, and oh, how that sound makes it worse for him. “I’m just being honest,” you coo, “What’s wrong with that?” Leaning into him, you capture his words in a kiss before they can slip through. 

His skin burns at your touch, and he mumbles against your lips with his forehead pressed against yours. “You never play fair.” His hands trace the arch in your back the way he knows drives you crazy.

“I’m not playing anything, love.” You sit up, perched at his waist as you drag your hands from his shoulders down to his navel, tracing his pecs and the ripples in his abs. His hands rest on your hips with his thumbs teasing at the lace hem of your panties, and you bite at your lip at the sight of him beneath you.

He catches onto your game, and quick, though he can’t say he isn’t willing to play, especially when he’s got the perfect view of your thighs, your waist, your breasts. All because you want him to—and that more than anything has his pulse running fast and briefs growing tight. “Thinking about something, baby?” 

You wish you could wipe that grin off his face. “No, nothing at all.” Walking your hands up his torso, you lean down to kiss him again. One hand cups his jaw as you tease your tongue past his lips and move your hips against him, and you fight back a moan as you pull away, a buzz in your lips and running through your veins. “You taste like coffee,” you add, beginning to lift yourself from his lap.

His hands slip by your hips again, and he groans. “Where are you going?”

You sit up with your legs hanging over the edge of the bed, reaching your arms up and out as you sigh, a sound so heavenly to him that he can’t help but follow you.  Sitting behind you, he curls his torso around yours, his arms tightening around your waist as he kisses your shoulder. 

Your arms fall back to your sides and layer on top of his as you take a deep breath. “You’re very clingy today.” Not that you’re complaining.

“Where are you going?” he insists, like it’s a crime to leave his bed. He clearly isn’t as stubborn as you thought, because once you start standing up, his arms loosen their grip. One of your hands drags down his arm as you walk away, taking his hand in yours as you make your way to the bathroom.

“Taking a shower,” you chirp. You flick the switch and let light fill the space.

“Why?”

A laugh escapes you as you turn. “Rafe, did you seriously just ask me why I’m taking a shower?”

He shrugs and pulls you closer, leaning against the counter as he urges you to lean against him. “You could’ve stayed in bed with me.” His hands take hold of your waist again, a developed instinct. He looks down at you with a love drunk grin on his face, like he’ll never get enough of you.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about.” You smile and loop your arms around his neck, scratching softly the way you know he likes. “As much as I would love to stay naked in bed with you,” you hum, pulling him in closer as you step on your tippy toes, enrapturing him all over again with your soothing voice and addicting lips against his. “I have some errands to run.” You lean back and take his jaw in your hand as he pouts. “ ‘Kay?”

“What do you have to do?” There’s a hopeful lilt in his voice, but his pout stays strong.

“Errands. Boring stuff.”

“Baby—”

“What,” you giggle, partly because you know it’ll make him weak for you, and partly because it really is funny when he gets like this. “Do you wanna come with me? Keep me company?”

He knows he shouldn’t give in so easily, but when your hands are on him, and you’ve got that big, bright smile on your face, you’re hard to resist. “...Yeah,” he admits, a blush rising to his cheeks again.

You give him a quick peck to his lips and a pat on his chest. “I want you to come, too, but that still means I need to shower.”

He pulls you close one last time to press his lips to your forehead before letting go. He leans back into the counter with his hands resting next to him as he watches you turn on the shower, paying him no mind as you then turn toward the closet and pull a towel from the shelf. This might be the hardest part about being yours, but also his favorite: just observing, getting to keep an eye on you during your day to day, menial little tasks, listening to your soft hums of songs you’ve always loved.

You slide your panties down your legs, all too aware of Rafe’s eyes on you, and open the frosted glass door, steam floating up toward the ceiling as hot water cascades over your body. You tilt your head back into the stream and take a few moments to soak up that warmth, that comfort, until you swear you hear the faucet running outside. Is he brushing his teeth again? You hear the tap halt before the sound of someone definitely brushing their teeth for the next couple minutes. You doubt that dental hygiene is all that important to him at the moment, but the faucet picks back up again, briefly, before you hear what you assume is a toothbrush falling back into place. A tall, blurry form—Rafe, of course—takes a seat on the edge of the tub. You haven’t even reached for your shampoo or your soap, too preoccupied and humored by his anticipation. You see his fuzzy knee bounce up and down.

When you open the glass door just enough to peek your head out, he keeps his eyes on the ground, almost like he’s too focused on not being focused. “Rafe?” It’s soft, but just enough to catch his attention.

His gaze shoots to you, his knee stops bouncing. “Yes, baby?” He wears a look like a deer in headlights.

“Care to join me?” A smile pulls at your lips.

His face lights up, he shoots up from his seat, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him strip so fast—not that there was much to remove, anyway. He nearly jumps into the shower behind you, water far too hot for his comfort shooting beams into his back as he catches you in another kiss that's all giggles and smiles and teeth.

Now this, he thinks, is more than fair. He could play this game for a lifetime.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Even if the sky was falling

Part I

a/n see I’m a nice person, I listen… sometimes.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It felt as if the sun was snuffed out as Azriel unleashed all of his shadows. Clawing and ripping at everything they found in their way, they drank in all drops of light. They were weeping alongside their master. The screaming returned as everyone around tried to escape the wrath of a man who no longer had anything to lose. A man who had nothing else to fight for. A man who was finally in so much pain he no longer could handle it.

“Azriel”, a voice called him but Azriel didn’t move. How could he move when his arms were wrapped around your limp body? “Brother”, that’s when he felt Rhys’s arms reaching from behind him as the high lord wrapped the two of you in the darkness of his own. “There’s still a heartbeat”, Rhys muttered, “She’s alive but you need to let a healer close, Azriel, do you hear me?”, his voice seemed foreign and far away, yet Azriel still pulled back slightly so he could look at your face. “Don’t take her away”, a sob slipped past his lips and even Rhys had to tilt his head up so the tears would not flow down his face. Because he had his suspicions. You do when your brother who had been cold as stone starts walking around with a hint of a smile. “Let Madja and her healers take her”, Rhys urged him, pulling at his arms that were wrapped around you. “Rhys”, Azriel grunted trying to fight back but Rhys didn’t let go, pulling his arms behind him, right as Madja slipped through the shell of darkness, her arms replacing Azriel’s. “No”, Azriel trashed against Rhys, “I’ll kill you all, you hear me?”, he howled, watching as Cassian picked you up following the orders Madja was giving him. “Let me to her”, Azriel growled his shadows ripping at the walls Rhys had built around them. “You’re not thinking brother, we are not the enemies here”, trying to send calmness down the mind threads Rhys was trying to latch on to. “It’s because of your fucking kid this happened. You and your plans, you would sell us all if it meant you were the one happy”, deep down Rhys knees that Azriel didn’t mean it. Deep down Azriel knew better but not now. Not when his palms were soaked in your blood. Not when there was a wound the shape of you in his chest, eating at him. “I’m so sorry, Az, you got to know that I’m sorry”, Rhys muttered, his palm coming to brush over Azriel’s eyes and in a blink of an eye everything went dark.

Azriel had no recollection whatsoever of what had happened when he woke up. To his left, he saw Feyre, curled up in an armchair. He knew that Rhys had been in his head. He always felt the aftermath of it. The ache and that dirty feeling as if someone had rummaged through parts of you they had no right to see. Yet the strongest feeling was the depths of loneliness. As if longing for a limb you never had in the first place yet you felt it as if it was yours. He stood slowly, not feeling like interacting with anyone so in need of keeping Feyre sleeping.

But bumped into Madja almost as soon as he slipped out into the corridor. “Oh, Az, you should still be in bed”, the elderly lady muttered. Azriel didn’t meet her eyes, couldn’t. “Where did you bury her?”, his voice didn’t even sound like his own as he spoke. “Who, my dear?”, Madja asked, clasping his hand. “My Y/n”, he breathed and the name alone was enough to make his eyes sting. “Come”, was all Madja said as she squeezed his palm. He wanted to tell her that he didn’t want to see you yet. He just wanted to know where. Seeing you would make it real and for now, he wanted to live in a sense of delusion. Azriel tried to push the smell of medical herbs out. The smell of incense burning. His body walked but his soul was no doubt knees deep on the grass by the school still.

“I’ll get you something to sit on”, Madja muttered, before reaching for the door. Azriel knew there was no going back from this after he stepped in. But the door opened. Madja ushered him inside and the moment his eyes got used to the dim light he saw. And his knees buckled once more. “No”, he breathed out. Rhys halted, putting the spoon down. “Azriel”, it was so weak, barely a kiss of the wind but there and it was yours. “Get out of my head Rhys”, Azriel growled, shaking his head. “This is real-world brother”, Rhys reassured him, his hand moving to squeeze yours. But your tired eyes were on Azriel. And that was enough to make him crumble.

“Baby”, you whined, pushing to sit up only to be met by Madja’s firm palm, “You will rip the stitches, stay how you are”, she breathed. Yet your hand still pushed back, reaching for Azriel who was on the floor, head in hands as he cried. “Please, I… Come closer”, you begged, needing to feel him. “You were dead in my head, you were… I lost you”, he shook his head.

“Come closer, please”, you choked out, fingers grasping at thin air, “Azriel, please”. It was unbearable to hear his cries. To feel his pain. It was as if someone sent crushed glass down your bloodstream and told you it was fine. Each blood cell called for him. Ached for him. You knew he wouldn’t heal your scars. He wouldn’t make the pain go away. But you were sure that feeling him, sensing him would bring you peace like no other.

Azriel practically crawled towards the bed. Mindful of the stuff around the push tables, his hands first grasped your legs before he pulled himself closer. Hands moving to cup your cheek as you leaned into him. “Y/n”, he muttered, waiting for you to fade into nothing. But no matter how many times he blinked you didn’t go away. “I’m here, it’s me”, you whispered, letting your palm brush over his, “And I love you”. Your words made Azriel halt before a little smile spread onto his lips.

“I was ready to end the whole world for you”, he mused, “I wasn’t gonna stop till…”, “But you don’t have to and you will never have to”, you cut in, reaching out to pull his face closer, “Cause the way you pulled me out of my darkness, I’ll pull you out of yours”. Azriel let his eyes soak you up, the slight rosy tint that had crept back onto your cheeks. “Lay with me”, you muttered, trying to tilt to the side only to hiss in pain, Azriel’s shadows instantly swirling around you in worry. “I don’t think it’s a good…”, he had started. “Do as the girl wants”, Madja huffed, “Do it while I’m here so I can make sure it’s all decent”. Rhys snorted from the corner making Azriel shoot him a look.

Madja ushered Rhys over as they carefully lifted you up, letting Azriel settle onto the bed, before they carefully laid you into his arms. You both let out a sigh of relief in unison. As two puzzle pieces finally clicking together. “Rest”, Azriel muttered, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. You reached for his hand, draping it over yourself, right above the tender skin of your abdomen. “Can you sing to me?”, you tilted your head up. “All night long, my love”, Azriel mused, kissing the top of your head.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[luveline]

hiii jade, hope you're having a lovely day/night <3

can i request sirius comforting r after a hard day of studies? maybe with some good ol' domestic fluff?

it's exam season at my school and my world is getting absolutely rocked

thank you for your request <3

“You look tired.” 

“That’s not very nice, is it?” you ask, no maliciousness in your tone nor sarcasm. You sound as sapped for energy as you look, shoulders aching profoundly in a line down your entire back, your eyes sluggish from a day spent reading, and testing yourself, and then reading again. 

Sirius leans against the doorway. He’d been waiting for you when you got here at the time you’d promised, and here he remains looking at you like he might want to eat you or, at least, give you a kiss. He puts his arms behind his back and a slip of his stomach flashes under the cropped length of his t-shirt, exposing pale skin and a threading of dark hair. 

“Too tired for manners,” he says, clocking your ogling. 

“You flashed me. You’re a flasher.” 

You’re too tired to stand there flirting, letting the bag that hangs on your shoulder slip to your elbow, and knowing already that Sirius will take it from you. He proves your anticipation correct, closing the small gap between you to grab the strap. 

It’s his kiss you aren’t expecting. Sirius takes your shoulder in his opposite hand to keep you still, his chin ever so slightly raised as he presses his lips to your forehead. You indulge the both of you and let yourself tilt forward. 

“Did you take lots of breaks?” he asks. 

Not really. “Yeah. I’m tired.” 

“I know,” he says sympathetically. “No more tonight. Let me take you inside.” 

Sirius begins a half-dragging of sorts, ferrying you into his flat and on to his bed. Sirius is a loving guy, even if he’s hard to understand sometimes; you can’t work out how he’s feeling right now, but you can sense the tenderness in his hands as he unties your shoelaces and pulls your shoes from your feet. He doesn’t talk, doesn’t question you anymore about your day, and many might label him uncaring but he’s too busy trying to get you feeling comfortable to ask.

He pulls your hoodie carefully over your head so as not to jostle your chin, unfastens your belt and unbuttons your jeans. Then he pushes his arms under yours and carries you to the top of the bed (not carry, really, but manhandle seems too rough a word). “Okay?” he asks.

He looks you in the face. He really, truly cares. It would be startling if you didn’t know him well already. 

“Yeah, I’m just tired. Can I have a glass of water?” 

He nods softly. “You can take your jeans off without me? I’ll get you something with less buttons to change into. And some biscuits.” He’s halfway down the hallway when he adds, “Or I can forget the thing with less buttons.” 

You burrow into his white sheets and breathe in deeply. They smell like his shampoo, a consequence of his tendency to sleep with wet hair, but they’re perfectly dry under your cheek, and terribly smooth. You rub your nose into his pillow as you relax for the first time all day. For a few seconds the cacophony of lecture slides and textbooks melts away, because you’re here in his bed with your boyfriend so eager to take care of you. 

His hand where it lands on your back only cements this. “Don’t fall asleep, please. I just need ten minutes to make sure you’re alright.” 

“I’m okay.” You pull your face up. “Did you bring me a biscuit?” 

“Brought you everything I promised,” he says, leaning down to kiss your jaw chastely. “I know it’s hard right now, but it’s not forever. You’re doing well. In a month we’ll be spending our Saturdays entirely in bed. You won’t have jeans on for a minute.” 

You sigh happily. “Will you take them off for me? Too tired.” 

He takes them off, and he pulls the blanket over you murmuring about the cold before he lays next to you with his arm over your back to ask in whispers about your day. Your answers come in dribs and drabs, so tired you forget the water you’d wanted or his promised biscuits. 

You fall asleep under his touch. He kisses your squished nose.

[qaxqxd]

Miguel O’Hara with an s/o who is on they’re period but gets super cuddly because of the headaches and cramps?

Warmth

♡Pair: Miguel O’hara x f!reader Genre: Fluff Warning: nothing bad,  just fluff :) A/n: AAAA I love this idea. It's a little short, but thank you for requesting this. Summary: You're on your period and you wanted to cuddle with Miguel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was morning, the sun was seeping through the blinds. You woke up feeling a unbearable sharp pain in your lower stomach. Walking to the restroom, seeing blood on your underwear.

“Shit.” You cursed, as you felt a headache coming through.You were on your period.

Great.

Cleaning yourself up, and putting on a pad. To walk back to the bedroom, laying down on your bed. You mumbled in pain. As you decide to call in from work today. You notify the watch. You were aching from your stomach. 

You had your phone and watch turned off. You tried to fall back to sleep, hoping the pain would go away.

-

Miguel found it weird that you weren’t at work today. He knew you called in sick, but as you weren’t picking up any of his calls. He even asked Lyla to see if you were okay over the watch, but you had it turned off. He started to get a bit worried. As he paced around the platform and looking at other missions that he sent Spider-mans to.

 Lost in thought Miguel didn’t even realize that Jess was right behind him.

“You okay there?” She asked him.

Miguel flinched a bit, looking over his shoulder to who the voice was. As he noticed it was Jess.

“I’m- just a little worried. (Y/n) hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts. She called in sick, but I don’t know. Something just doesn’t feel right.” Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, frowning. He was very worried for you.

“She’s probably fine. Have you checked on her yet? As in person?” Jess bridges her arms together. Miguel shook his head. As she sighed.

“I can take over for a bit if you’ll like.” She offers him.Miguel found it weird that you weren’t at work today. He knew you called in sick, but as you weren’t picking up any of his calls. He even asked Lyla to see if you were okay over the watch, but you had it turned off. He started to get a bit worried. As he paced around the platform and looking at other missions that he sent Spider-mans to.

 Lost in thought Miguel didn’t even realize that Jess was right behind him.

“You okay there?” She asked him.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be back.” He said with haste, opening a portal to (Y/n)’s Earth. As he left, Jess let out a small giggle. As (Y/n) texted her earlier letting her know everything was alright. She knew you just wanted him to be with him, and she was happy to help you success with that.

Miguel needed a break either way.

-

As the sun seems to set on your Earth. Miguel arrived at your apartment, he had his own key to your apartment. You knew it’d be handy someday. Opening your door to your apartment.

“(Y/n)?” He questioned if you were home even.

“In here.” You drag out the word ‘here’. As you sounded tired. He walked into your room.

“Are you alright, mi amor?” He sat on the side of your bed, stroking your face. As you nodded at his question, you sat up a little bit, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“It’s just that I'm on my period.” You mumble, laying your head on his shoulder.

“Ah, do you want any sweets or anything by chance, mi vida?” He asked, a little worried. He was glad you weren’t actually hurt, or in trouble. You shook your head, as really all you wanted was to be close to him.

“Could you stay for a bit, Love?” You looked at him, hoping he would say yes. As his small smile confirmed that he’d stay.

“Of course I'll stay for a bit, mi querida. I want to take care of you.” Miguel cups your face, laying a kiss on the crown of your head.

And he did just that. He made sure you had everything you needed. Holding you close to him, knowing you’re feeling super cuddly. You both watched movies with each other. As you snuggle closer to him.

You spend the rest of the day with Miguel. He got you treats even though you said it was fine. You were just glad you had him around you, and you were able to cuddle against him. This was a side most people wouldn’t see from Miguel, but he was just happy to be with you.

As you two rested on each other. Cuddling with each other. Eventually falling asleep on each other.

-

WC. 0.7k

[revelboo]

I blame you (respectfully) for falling back in love with Starscream… and finding my Transformers Armada Starscream figure after years of him hiding.

Haha he’s too fun to write! 18+ Mutual frustration 🌶️

Everything is Alright Pt 40

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• Every day it’s a little harder to ignore. You fall asleep against his chassis alongside his canopy, his servos sliding down your spine until your breathing evens out. And he just lays there staring at the ceiling wanting something he can’t have, aware of your warmth and softness, the feel of your breath on him, an intimacy that makes it even harder to not just give in. Every little touch of those hands on the back of his to get his attention, those little smiles for him alone, drive straight through him, stirring that hunger he shouldn’t even entertain. Those errant thoughts so common now as he watches you and wonders. And needs more now than just your voice and smile. More than he can ask for.

• Primus, help him as you shift against him, a leg sliding over his plating. Making a soft noise in your sleep and he vents as your scent changes. That subtle shift going straight to his spike as he drapes an arm over his face. Tempting him to just free himself and take care of it even though there’s no way to do that without waking you. Gritting his denta he runs a shaking servo along your spine, feeling you arch into the touch with a breathless little murmur. That temptation to just mass shift, roll you under him, and find out if you’re compatible once and for all almost crippling.

• A wicked mouth on your neck as big hands surf along your sides. Exploring slowly as that mouth gently bites then roams your skin in a trail of wet heat as Starscream moves over you. Legs parting for him, welcoming him inside. Needing this. Something bumps your head and the dream slips out of your fingers. Groaning, you lift your flushed face to find him watching you with an almost predatory intensity, the finger he nudged you with lingering against your hair as you come fully awake. That dream again. You don’t even know what is under his plating, but that hasn’t stopped your sex deprived brain from deciding that he not only had the necessary equipment, but that he should play the starring role in your needy little fantasies. And you can only hope you weren’t grinding on him, because you’re wet and already mortified enough about dreaming of sex with him while lying on top of him. Especially as he slowly vents and you wonder just how good his sense of smell is.

• Shuddering under your little frame, he drapes a servo against the back of your shoulders, rubbing gently. Trying to get himself under control when his spike is aching and it’s a struggle to remember why giving in is such a bad idea. Especially when you look up at him like that, your face flushed. Biting back a groan, he curls his servos around you and lifts you from his chassis so he can slide off his berth and carry you to the desk and your things. His touch lingering when you timidly reach to touch his servo. “I’ll see you later,” he growls, leaning down to vent in your scent, reluctant to leave for rotation. But he’ll have to deal with his current problem in the wash racks first.

• The way his voice dipped into that rasping growl does things to you. Completely inappropriate things as you sit on the edge of your bed and watch him go, wondering what exactly is wrong with you that just the sound of his voice can draw you tight with breathless anticipation for something you can’t have. Something impossible.

• Under the spray, he doesn’t even hesitate, freeing his spike and fisting himself as he remembers that little noise you’d made in your sleep. The way your lips had parted as you’d shifted restlessly against him. Pretends you were dreaming of him as he strokes himself, wings trembling. Optics shuttering so he can focus on that image. Pretend your soft little hands are sliding over him. Little head tipped up, lips parted. Would you let him in? What would you taste like against his glossa? Growling as he ruts against his hand, his helm bumps against the wall in front of him as his movements become more urgent. Would you be soft inside too? Hold onto him as he loses himself inside you? Groaning as he releases, his wings shudder and he tilts his face up into the spray. Knows something has to give and soon.

• Hips lifting as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip and stroke yourself, you try to chase that high. Need to take off the edge from the dream as you fuck yourself with your fingers and try to recall those lovely details. The shape of Starscream mass displaced but still so big over you, the warm brand of those hands on you. It’s not Star that comes to mind, though. Head thrown back, you whimper as you imagine big hands gripping your hips, tightening until you know there’ll be bruises instead of his usual gentleness. Seeing your own dazed eyes reflected in Soundwave’s visor as he buries himself inside you. Hips snapping against yours, because if this is all you can have, why not claim them both as yours. Why not indulge in harmless fantasies?

• Hand frozen an inch from the access panel, Soundwave vents roughly. Unable to move away or forward as your mind crashes into him from the other side of that door. Your need slipping through his defenses so easily, sinking into him. As he catches glimpses of your thoughts, just little fractured images, but enough to string him tight, because they’re so much more visceral than what he’d picked up from Starscream about you. That need and desperation chained to images of him, fantasies that slip into his own processor and take root. You’re his as much as Starscream’s and somehow you understand that as he presses a palm to his helm, overwhelmed with you. His own spark and spike responding, wanting to claim what’s his.

Previous

Next

[lexisecretaccx]

A+ Student Pt 7

Masterlist!

(Fem reader, angst, smut, more car sex😭🙏 , argument, drama, it all goes down bro, etc, not proofread!)

Summary: Y/n is a great student in her college, always getting good grades. Her college professor Matt, thinks she can get even higher ones with some “extra credit.” That is until she meets her new gym teacher..

I look at my phone blankly, not answering it. The call disappears off of my screen and I breathe out finally. Until it rings again, he’s desperate to reach me, I let it ring a third time and then I pick it up and answer it. “Hello?” I hesitate. A sigh leaves the other end of the phone.

“Matt?” I ask, “You’ve made me so fucking angry y/n.” He speaks lowly. “I- uh how?” I’m nervous, I don’t know why. He chuckles sarcastically, “You know why.” He breathes in, “You need to pay for what you did. You’re a little slut.” He hisses, even though he’s clearly upset I can’t help but get turned on by the way he’s speaking to me.

I swallow harshly, “How would I pay for what I did?” I ask, my core aching. “You deserve a punishment, a.. detention perhaps.” He seems like he’s being flirty but he still sounds angry and that is a hot combination. “Okay when should I have a detention professor?” I tease him, “don’t enjoy this y/n. I’ll hang up if you fucking enjoy this shit.. you’re a slut you know that?” He huffs in frustration.

“We both know that Matt.” I speak seductively and smirk, he can’t see it but you know. “Fuck..” he groans, “I’ll tell you something.” I start to speak, “what?” He replies and I chuckle softly, “I think you’re only mad because your brother has fucked me twice and he’s only know me for a short while and you? You’ve been my professor for the past year and you’ve only been able to eat me out. Hm?”

“I couldn’t care less y/n,” he sighs, “I’m fucking pissed off because..” he stops speaking, “because I left yours after you basically forced me out and then I fucked Chris?” I’m having fun winding him up. “Yes that and also because you don’t have a fucking clue about Chris.” He speaks coldly.

“What about him?” I’m confused, “I can’t tell you on the phone it’s easier to speak in person, I want to see your face.” I sigh, “well I’ll meet you tomorrow?” I wanna know what he’s talking about “I can’t tomorrow, grading papers, Sunday?” He really wants to tell me something I can tell, “yeah sure.”

We talk for another minute before hanging up, what the fuck is he talking about? I’ll have to see him on Sunday, wait shit! I forgot to ask Lizzy if she was okay. I pull out my phone and call her. Luckily she answers quickly, “Liz you okay? I’m so sorry I didn’t reply.” She laughs lightly, “yeah it’s all good now, my parents were arguing and I just needed somewhere to go.”

“If I was home I would’ve let you come over, where did you go in the end?” “Just to a friend’s house, where were you then?” I need to lie I don’t want her to know about what went on. “I was out with my dad.”

Me and her talk back and forth until she has to go.

Sunday

My alarm goes off and I struggle to grab my phone to shut it off. “Fuck..” I groan out of tiredness, it’s 8:30am and after 10 minutes of procrastinating wether I should go back to sleep I get out of bed and hop in the shower, still not fully awake so I’m stumbling.

I do my everything shower and get into my room to get dressed, I pick a basic ass pair of sweats and a tight white vest. I put some makeup on and check the time, it’s 10:23. Matt told me he could pick me up at half 10. I get my shoes on and go downstairs, “I’m headed out dad!” I call to my dad who is on the couch.

“No worries stay safe pumpkin.” He smiles, “do you want me to make you a coffee before I go?” I ask him as I still have time, “It’s alright, I got one here.” He lifts his mug, “thank you though.” He nods, “Okay no worries, see ya!” I walk out the front door and I just wait on the sidewalk.

After 10 minutes the Porsche pulls up and I remember Matt saying he drives it sometimes. He stops in front of me and I hop in the passenger seat, the same passenger seat that me and Chris fucked in 2 days previously. “Hey.” He speaks, “Hi, what did you wanna tell me?” I ask him putting the seatbelt on.

He looks at me for a good 10 seconds, I tilt my head in confusion as he isn’t speaking. “I lied.” He swallows, “Lied? About what?” I’m even more confused now, he starts driving. “I lied, I have nothing to say about Chris.” He sounds unsure, “What why?” I ask him.

“I’m fucking jealous as shit y/n,” He sighs, “I just wanted to see you, I’m sorry I’m a fucking dick.” He slows down and pulls down a street. “It’s okay Matt, don’t worry.” I try to reassure him.” He shakes his head, “It’s not okay, not until I can.. feel you around me.” He whispers. He pulls into the parking lot of an abandoned store.

I feel myself get hot, did he really just say that? I can’t form words out of shock, he turns to me. “He fucked you in this car didn’t he.” I look at him and nod, “in the backseat?” He speaks quieter, I shake my head “in this seat.” I point at where I’m sitting, “that must’ve been awkward.” He smirks, “yeah I hit my head a few times.”

“Maybe you need someone to show you how to fuck in a car.. the comfortable way.” He bites his lip, I squeeze my thighs together as he speaks. His hand comes down to my thigh, “you’re a slut.” He chuckles, my face turns red and I look away.

He grabs my face and turns it to him, “get in the back.” He undoes my seatbelt. I nod quickly and hop out the car, he copies and we both get into the backseat, I’m glad these back windows are tinted as it’s broad daylight outside, even though the car park is empty. He wastes no time and crashes his lips onto mine.

His hands travel to my sweatpants as pulls them down to my ankles and then undoes the zipper of his jeans before pulling both of our pants off. The imprint of his cock is unmissable. He grabs my legs and slides me so I’m practically laying down on the backseat, without hesitation he removes my underwear and puts it on the drivers seat.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He slides two fingers across my slit before pushing them in quickly. I moan out lightly, he moves them in and out about 5 times, before removing them. “Please..” I look up at him, raising my inner brows. He smirks before pulling his boxes off, his dick is big, not as big as Chris’ but it’s still perfect.

I go to try and wrap my hands around his length and he stops me by grabbing my hands with one hand, pushing them above my head and with the other hand moves my legs into missionary position.

“I don’t have a condom.” He looks at me, “I’m on birth control.” I speak rapidly, just wanting to feel him inside me, “desperate hm?” He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead. I nod, “please Matt.. fuck me.” I whine, he chuckles, resting his tip at my entrance but not pushing it in, I wiggle to try and get some friction.

“Matt.. stop teasing me please just…” he cuts me off by pushing inside instantly, I moan out and grip the seat. “Just what? What did you want me to do?” He teases, he thrusts in and out slowly at first before quickening the pace until he’s pounding into me and the car is definitely moving. Mine and his moans fill the car.

I can feel myself getting closer and closer, I look down at where we connect, his dick disappearing inside of me with every thrust, his hand comes down and rubs circles on my clit. I scream out his name and my back arches. “Fuck..” he groans out, I feel the euphoria wash over me as I come undone. My arousal leaking around his dick.

Not long after he finishes inside of me and pulls out. We both sit breathlessly, “that was.. fucking amazing.” I breathe out harshly, “Can I have my panties back?” I ask him as I grab my sweatpants off of the car floor, “I think I’ll keep them, as a souvenir.” He smirks as he gets his boxers and jeans back on. “You weirdo.” I tease him and slide my sweatpants on without underwear underneath.

We get back into the front seats and he gives me the aux, I put on some random playlist on shuffle. He stuffs my panties into his pocket before we put our seatbelts on and he drives off. “Do you wanna come to mine? Just for food or something.” Matt asks me, “Yeah of course, is Chris gonna be there?” I whisper his name.

“Probably not, Chris did say he was going out somewhere.” Matt replies, “okay yeah I’ll come.”

We get to his house and Matt pulls in the driveway before we get out the car and enter the house. It’s quiet, except for faint music coming from upstairs. I look to Matt, “Nick probably.” He answers, we walk to the kitchen and I sit on the barstool. “Do you want a soda?” Matt opens the fridge, “yeah sure what do you have?” I lean on the counter to look in the fridge, my ass in the air.

“We have Pepsi and..” Matt gets cut off, “That’s a nice view.” Chris. He walks up from the hallway behind, I sit back down and turn to him, my face red. He’s wearing a black wifebeater vest and grey sweats holding an empty glass, Matt stands up and closes the fridge. “What ya doing?” Chris asks as he walks up next to Matt, “nothing important.”

“What’s this?” Chris pulls my panties out of the pocket of Matts jeans. He looks at me, tilting his head. “Oh.” Is all that he says. He chuckles but I can tell he’s pissed off.

“I just..” I try to explain but Chris scoffs loudly, “Oh shut it y/n.” He puts his glass down and slams his hands on the counter infront of me, I flinch. “What happened to ‘Matt is a dick’ and all that bullshit?” He leans in further. “Hm?” He looks angry. “I don’t know.” I mumble. I look over, Matt is smiling slightly?

Chris turns to Matt, “I don’t know what your problem is. This is just a competition to you isn’t it?” Chris shoves Matt backwards into the fridge door. “Calm down.” Matt replies to Chris who just turns around, “Calm down? I can’t fucking calm down right now Matt.” He walks over to me, “you’re a selfish bitch.” He points his finger in my face.

“It was going well, I thought you actually gave a fuck.” He scoffs, “I do Chris..” I try to speak again, “If you did then why did you go back to him?” It’s a valid question, I don’t know. “Maybe she prefers me.” Matt stupidly pipes up. Chris picks the glass that he put down and he throws it at the cabinet next to Matt.

It smashes and the glass flies everywhere. I get off the stool and step back, “Chris stop..” I thought I’d be scared of him. “It was a joke just stop being so childish.” Matt retorts to Chris, “I’m not fucking laughing.” He speaks more calmly, his eyes look watery. “I’ll clean that up.” He spoke quietly, pointing at the shattered glass on the floor.

“While you’re at it clean your act up too hm?” Matt smirks, he’s making this worse. “I’ll be cleaning your fucking blood off the wall if you don’t shut the fuck up.” Chris yells. “Your acting all tough but I don’t think she knows about you know what.” Chris points at me, Matts eyes widen.

“What?” I’m confused, “What was her name again? Kelly?” Chris asks Matt, Matt looks nervous. Kelly the new girl? What are they talking about. “Yeah that was it, that was strange when she was here wasn’t it.” Chris hisses.

She was here? “I think that was the night after y/n was here the first time right? The night you upset her and I was the only person who comforted her right?” Chris walks even closer to Matt. “What is he talking about?” I ask Matt because I feel like I know what went on I just wanna hear it from him.

“He was ‘helping her catch up with the work’ or something, what was your excuse again?” Chris turns to Matt who’s face is bright red, Matt looks at me, “Matt what the fuck is he talking about?” I raise my voice to him.

“I.. Kelly wanted to get caught up with the class work, that’s all I promise you y/n.” He pleads with me, “The thing is, you don’t teach biology so there was no need for your dick to be out.” Chris chuckles, Matts expression shows me everything I need to know, he’s a fucking liar. “I have every right to report you to the college.” Chris smirks at Matt.

“You’d lose your job too asshole.” Matt growls back at him, “yeah but I don’t need that job, I got it just to try it out.” Chris grabs the brush and pan and starts to sweep up the glass. “Fuck you.” Matt grabs his car keys and walks out of the house.

I feel tears run down my eyes as I stand there in shock, the day after he refused to kiss me he had Kelly here and his dick out? What the fuck. “You good?” Chris stands up and looks at me, his expression shifting to concern as he notices the tears rolling down my face.

“I’m so sorry.” He apologises.

A/n: guys…. Heheh Hehehe smut with Matt hehehe but the angst is wilding out. Chris is my baby girl😖 bro I have so many ideas for new series’ and I just wanna write a new series rn (pbviously continuing this one as it’ll only have like 2 parts left I think!

@blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @mattybslover @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @bueckerslover @fratbrochrisgf @sturniol0s @alwayssublimedelusion @certifiednatelover @freshsturns @riasturns @sturniololvrrr @maryx2xx @whicked-hazlatwhore @cammie4298 @sturnsjtop @sturnzblog @chr1sgirl4life @evie-sturns @milasturniolo @jaxyy219 @mattsturniolosbae @h3arts4harry @littlebookworm803 @realqueenofpepsi @elsxz1 @jnkvivi @nayveetbhh @sturnsmadl @mattspleasure @m0r94n @raysmayhem-72 @flamethrower313

[papipedroo]

Unwelcome (Joel Miller x Reader)

Part Three of Whiskey Tears

Rated: Angst | Violence | Fluff | Suggestive | Age Gap | Assault | Language

Summary: You, Joel, and Ellie have been a trio from the start. You were a family, but you find your relationship with Joel withering when he starts to pull away. Now a new comer makes her way into Jackson and into Joel’s heart…

“Joel.”

Two months have gone by since that day and everything seemed to be slowly slipping away from your fingers. You were having trouble adjusting, but you were having even more trouble at the thought of loosing Joel.

“Joel.” Your fingers wrapped around his arm and you gently shook him.

He didn’t touch her or kiss her, but her presence was just there. Always around him. Always driving a wedge between the two of you.

“Joel. It’s time to wake up.” You spoke softly.

It hurt and so you argued more than you ever have. Even before when you were a firefly, neither of you argued this much. You argued until there was nothing left. Until your breath could barely keep you alive.

His eyes opened to find you kneeling beside him on the floor. You were beautiful… You were always beautiful to him. He glanced to the window where the sun was already high up in the sky.

“Where are the others?” He asked.

“Ellie is at the barn again, apparently she’s got a real knack in taking care of the horses. You two might just get your sheep farm on the moon soon.” You spoke softly as you brushed loose curls away from his face.

His hair was getting longer and it made you smile, “You need a haircut love.”

“Don’t wanna do it.” He mumbled.

“I’ll do it later tonight.” You rubbed your thumb against his cheek, taking in the precious moment between the two of you.

He leaned into your touch making your heart jumped before worried settled in at the dark circles under his eyes.

“You need to stop sleeping on the couch Joel.” You sighed as you rubbed his arm, “You need your bed.”

“But you need—” He began to say, but you didn’t let him finish.

“I know.” You sighed before getting up, “Come, we have to meet with Maria and Tommy soon. Maria says she has some good news.”

Joel nodded his head as he sat up, his back aching from the couch. If only he was younger, this would feel like nothing. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so insecure when it came to you. He silently got up and made his way to the bathroom to get ready.

You were pouring him some coffee when he appeared in the kitchen.

“Your shirt is on backwards.” You spoke teasingly.

“Shit.” He muttered as he took off his shirt because you were in fact right.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes raked over his chest. He wasn’t overly fit, but he had muscles where it count. Your cheeks heat up as you remember the night you were able to touch him, run your hands across his chest over each scar he had. You didn’t realize how much you missed that and the only thing you could do is bite your lip to keep yourself from hopping across the counter and jump him.

“And what about Heather?” Joel asked once his shirt was fixed.

You took a sharp breath and your feelings turned sour, “She’s with Mikel.” You explained shortly.

His brows furrowed, “Mikel is supposed to be on patrol today.”

You nodded your head, “He’s going to be teaching her the ropes now that she’s been here for a while and settled in.”

“I could have done that.” He stated gruffly, “After what she’s been through, she is not very trusting towards anyone.”

You took in a sharp breath, “Everyone has been through something Joel.” You said carefully, “I asked Maria about it and we agreed Mikel would be a great fit for her. I was on a route with him when you disappeared, he’s my age and very capable of protecting her if need be.” You encouraged, “Besides, you and I go on patrol, you wouldn’t have the time to do both.”

“So you decided this on your own without asking me about my opinion?” He asked gruffly, a sharp edge to his tone.

You looked down at the counter. You were too embarrassed to admit that you did decide without asking him because you were scared he wouldn’t choose you.

“It’s you and I.” You stated as your voice wavered, “It’s been you and I.”

Silence grew between the two of you.

“Not always.” He finally said in a tone so soft you wouldn’t think it would come from Joel Miller himself.

And boy did what he say hurt you then any physical fight you have ever been in. What could you say to him? To be able to have him hold you in his arms again? To stop dragging you through rusted nails… You just wanted to stop hurting and he just kept pounding on the nails with a hammer.

“I am here now.” Your voice wavered, “Standing right in front of you. I am here, alive and bleeding out to you.”

You could see the wavering look in his eyes, “You’re too young.”

You held your ground, “You can’t keep pushing me away Joel.”

He shook his head, deciding that staring at the wall behind your seemed more interesting then the tears forming in your eyes, “I can’t do that to you.”

“Do what?” You quickly walked around the counter to face him, “Love me? Because if so why did you kiss me huh? Why did you touch me? Why give me hope that you could actually love me back? Tell me then. Tell me that you don’t love me.”

Your fury grew when his silence lingered.

“Tell me Joel!” You yelled at him and in that moment you were glad that Ellie wasn’t in the house.

He didn’t answer… He didn’t want to because he knew what he would say and he knew that would be the end of him. Instead he turned and did what he always did… Keep everything buried.

“Come on. We’ll be late.” He turned and walked to the front door without touching the coffee you made him.

You glared at him with nothing with but a heart filled with fiery, “It’s because you love me too. Isn’t it?”

His shoulders stiffened, but that was all the answer he would give you as he walked away.

You gave a small sigh before following after him.

It was long before you were hopping up the steps to Tommy and Maria’s home. Joel trailed behind you as you knocked on the door.

Not even a moment later and Maria was greeting you with her famous smile.

“Good morning.” You returned her smile and gave her a hug.

She gave you a tight squeeze, “Good morning.” She ushered you both inside, “Tommy’s making breakfast or at least trying to.”

“Oh boy.” You breathed out a laugh as the two of you followed her into their little breakfast nook by the kitchen.

“Mornin.” Joel greeted his brother.

You pulled out Joel’s chair before taking your seat as Maria brought over two mugs of tea.

“Thank you, I needed this.” You breathed out as you held the mug.

Your eyes then flickered to Joel pulling out a chair and sitting across from you.

Of course he’d do that. You sighed. Always one for the dramatics.

You were upset that he didn’t want to sit next to you, but you figured it was because of the conversation you both had earlier. Maria took a seat beside you instead, a small smile on her face as she watched Tommy bring over what was a poor attempt at omelets.

“Don’t say one word.” Tommy’s voice was playful as he barely scolded Maria.

Maria raised her hands up in mock surrender, “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” Tommy huffed with a small laugh as he took his seat as the head of his table.

“I think that food speaks for itself.” Joel joked.

“It looks… Edible none the least.” You murmured as you picked out egg shells, “You wont hear me complaining.”

“It’s perfect hunny.” Maria smiled as she leaned over a placed a kiss on Tommy’s cheek.

Your heart melted at the sight and an ache filled it. You could only dream of being that way with Joel… The things you would do just to get that man to show you that he loved you too.

The rest of breakfast was going over the upkeep of Jackson and the repairs that needed to be done. Apparently Liza and Julio’s spotted one of the perimeter fences on the east wall being bent inward from the snow the has been pilling up against it and some of the vegetables aren’t doing so well with the cold.

“We should get a group together to fix the fence first.” You said, “I can help out as well.”

“As for the vegetables… This winter is a lot worse then the previous ones we’ve had. We will have to make do with the vegetable we got until we get to warmer weather.” Maria stated.

“That sounds good.” Tommy agreed, “And I will put together a team after our breakfast to start working on the wall. I’ll let you know if we need any help, but thank you for the offer.”

“Of course Tommy.” You nodded your head.

“I also want to switch patrol routes with Mikel.” Joel announced at the table as breakfast was beginning to come to an end.

You looked away from your food and towards him within a second of his words appearing from his mouth, “Why? I thought our route for this week was pretty good.”

“No. I want Mikel to start taking you out on patrol.” He stated simply.

You dropped your fork, “Why? Did I do something wrong? Is this about earlier?”

“No.” He said again and you swore it was his favorite word, “You said it yourself. He’s younger and stronger. That means he can protect you.”

“I don’t want him to protect me.” You glowered, “I have you.”

“No. You don’t.” He stated gruffly, “You can’t rely on me forever.”

“I’m not relying on you! I pull my weight just as much as you do. We’re a team and you can’t just split us up.” You yelled at hi, “I won’t let you.”

He stood up abruptly with a scowl, “Enough! Fuck just listen to me for once! I’m doing this for you!”

“For me?” You stood up as well with a scoff, “You know what, I’ll listen to you when you start making sense Joel!”

“I don’t want you! Can you listen to that?!” He yelled and suddenly the room went silent.

“Fuck you Joel.” You murmured before storming away.

“Have your fucking switch then! See if I care!” You yelled before slamming the door.

“Good job Joel.” Maria rolled her eyes. She stood up and began to collect the dishes, “When are you going to stop being an asshole and realize that you need her just as much as she needs you?” She stated before walking away to put the dishes in the sink.

She rushed to the door to put on her shoes and coat before going to find you. You were more important to her than some dirty dishes that she can clean later.

Joel sighed as he slumped down into his seat.

“What’s going on brother?” Tommy asked.

Joel didn’t speak, not for a few minutes. He was trying his best to keep himself from loosing his shit.

“Nothing.” He mumbled.

“Well that’s a stupid answer coming from you.” Tommy laughed.

“I’m old Tommy.” Joel sighed.

“Yeah.” Tommy laughed, “We’re all old and what’s your point?”

“She’s not.” He stated simply.

A realization dawned across Tommy’s voice, “Is that why you are pushing her away?”

“She deserves more than an old man.” Joel sighed in defeat, “I just wish she would see that.”

“That’s not for you to decide.” Tommy pointed out, “That’s her decision and I can see that she’s not going to change it.”

“But I can help her change it.” Joel said as he looked up at his brother, “Just help me make her see that. That Mikel kid or whoever could be good for her. She needs someone her age and I need someone my age. That’s how it should be.”

“So what? Is that why you’re so attached to Heather? Because you feel like you’re not enough for the girl who has been in love with you for months just because she’s a little younger?”

“It’s not just a little younger.” Joel grumbled,

Tommy shook his head as he stood up, “I’m not going to help you break her heart.”

“You did this with Ellie too and look how that turned out?”

Tommy placed a hand on Joel’s shoulder, “You deserve happiness too, brother.”

“And she deserves someone who is strong enough to protect her.” Joel replied, a solemn tone to his voice.

You soon found yourself scrubbing aggressively at the bar counter.

“Fuck him.” You grumbled as you cleaned, “And not in the good way. Not like he’s been wanting that lately.”

Maria nodded her head, “I’ll admit he is being a dick.”

“Who’s being a dick?” Ellie hopped up on a barstool.

“Joel.” You and Maria both said at the same time.

That is until you did a double take to see that it is Ellie.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working at the barn?” You asked inquisitively, “What are you doing here?”

“I finished all my tasks and saw you both in the window. Why is Joel being a dick?”

“Sweetie, you can’t call him that.” You scolded her lightly, “And he’s not… He’s just…”

“Being a dick.” Maria stated simply.

Her input made the three of you burst out laughing. You smiled at the lighten mood as you reached for a glass. You poured Ellie some water before setting it infront of her.

“Can’t I get some of that?” She asked, pointing to your glass that you were currently filling with whiskey.

You shook your head, “Not until you’re old enough.”

“But it’s the apocalypse?” Ellie looked at you confused.

“Doesn’t mean someone as young as you can drink.” You crossed your arms.

Ellie sighed, “Yes mom.”

“Maybe just talk to him later tonight. Find the real reason about his decision.” Maria advised.

I nodded my head before looking at Ellie, “I’m not going to lie to you. Joel and I are arguing. Can you please stay with Maria and Tommy tonight so I can talk to him?”

Ellie nodded her head slowly, “Why are you two arguing? Is it because of Heather cause if so I don’t like her.”

I sighed, “It’s hard to explain and even harder to talk about it. I won’t talk badly about your dad, not in front of you.”

It was late by the time you went home after you dropped Ellie off at Maria and Tommy’s. They gave you some good news that cheered you up a bit. It might just be the change you both needed. Now all you had to do was tell him. You were just trying to get the courage to step inside your front door.

You finally stepped inside and was met with the lights being on, but no one around.

“Joel?” You called out to him as you took your shoes off.

He didn’t answer you, but you could hear soft muffled voices coming from upstairs. You took a step, each one leading you up the stairs and down to Joel’s room… The door was already wide open and an unwelcome feeling filled your gut as you got closer. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know what lied behind the doorway.

Your body however, carried you into the room. Relief filled your chest at seeing the bed empty and left how you made it in the morning. You glanced around the room to the light that flooded out from the bathroom. You stepped closer to the door, a female laugh fluttering from it making your stomach twist and your chest tighten at what you saw.

Joel sat on a stool that was definitely taken from the kitchen and a bath towel draped around him. Heather stood with a pair of scissors as she cut at the ends of his hair. This was thing that you were supposed to do not her.

“You’re cutting his hair.” Your voice was dull as you repeated what you saw.

“Oh! Yes, I forgot my hair tie when I left this morning so I came back and overheard you telling Joel that he needed a haircut and I thought I might help out and give him one.” Heather smiled at you.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Your gaze flickered to Joel’s who was staring at you from the mirror. He could see the fallen expression on your face and the way that you were holding back your tears.

“I think she can finish my hair Heather.” Joel said without taking his eyes off of you.

“But…” Heather tried to say something else, but he cut her off.

“Thank you.” He said simply.

Heather released a huff before walking towards you and handing you the scissors before leaving.

“C’mere.” He spoke with a gentleness in his tone that you haven’t heard in months. That tone always made you shiver and you felt like he knew that. Of course he did, he’s fucking observant when he wants to be.

You felt like your emotions were going to explode as you stepped towards him. The events of earlier today and now walking in on seeing the person you wanted to punch in the face touching your Joel’s hair… You were either going to punch the man or kiss him depending on his explanation.

“I know you wanted to do it, but she was insistent that she could do it because she used to cut her husband’s hair before he died and she missed it… I had a hard time saying no.” He explained carefully as if he were talking to a stray cat and maybe you were in that moment, but his explanation seemed to apease you enough.

You nodded your head. You didn’t want to argue, not after today. You ran your fingers through his hair before taking a few strands to trim.

“I don’t like how we left off earlier.” You spoke softly.

“I know.” Joel sighed, “I don’t either.”

“I really don’t want to go on patrol with Mikel. I want to stay with you.” You pleaded lightly.

Joel furrowed his brow, “That’s not up for debate.”

“It shouldn’t even be on the table.” You muttered as you took another strand of his hair, a huff passing your lips in frustration, “I don’t like the way she cut your hair.”

Joel chuckled and warmth filled your stomach at the sound, “Then fix it firefly.”

You continued to cut Joel’s hair the way you knew he liked it. The way that it made you want to run your fingers through his hair every second of the day. After some time in a peaceful silence, you spoke up to tell him about the news you heard from Maria and Tommy when you dropped Ellie off earlier.

“I have some good news.” You spoke timidly, “About Heather.”

“What is it?” He asked.

“Well… Maria and Tommy just informed me that Tris will gladly take Heather as a roommate. Apparently, they’ve been getting along really well together since Heather arrived here. Tris’s house is as big as ours and she says feels lonely having the house to herself.”

Joel took a moment to respond before he asked, “Does Heather know about this yet?”

“Not yet.” You whispered, “Maria and Tris are going to come by for lunch tomorrow to talk it over.”

“I see.” Joel nodded.

“Hey.” I giggled lightly as I barely smacked him on the shoulder, “Don’t move your head or do you want to go bald?”

“I prefer my hair thanks.” Joel grumbled with a small chuckle.

You smiled when he held still, “Better.”

When you finished trimming his hair it looked much neater and yet it had an un-tameness to it that made you bite your bottom lip. You felt a terrible idea pop into your head as you set the pair of scissors down before standing behind Joel. He looked at himself in the mirror with contomept.

“It looks good.” He agreed with your thoughts.

You ran your fingers through his hair as if you were smoothing it out until your fingers curled and you began to massaged his scalp.

His reaction was almost immediate as he leaned back against you on the stool. You could see his eyes roll to the back of his head as he let out a quite hm. It made you want to laugh at how pliable he was when you massage his head.

“I like it too.” You murmured to which he couldn’t quite process.

“Mm.” He agreed.

“How was your day?” You asked when you spotted the way his face scrunched up in pain when he moved his body.

“Had to rebuild that fence, go huntin with Tommy.” He murmured with a grunt, “Found a buck.”

“You must be exhausted. It was really cold today.” You continued to massage his head.

“Twas nothin.” He replied, but you knew better. You knew how sore he could get after a long day.

“I think it’s time we should head to bed, hm?” You asked in a soft tone as to not startle him.

“Mmhm.” He agreed without a second thought.

You leaned down a pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, “Come on then.”

You took the towel off his shoulders before leading him to his bed. He was too exhausted to argue with you as you made him lie down. You took his jeans, leaving him in his boxers and shirt as you covered him with his blanket.

“Good night Joel.” You whispered to him.

Your plan was to sleep on the couch tonight so that he could get some rest. You quietly slipped out of the room once you headed his breath even out. Your footsteps padded across the cold wood floors. You made sure to grab an extra blanket before padding over to the couch that Joel’s been using as a bed this past week. Of course his blanket was neatly folded on the side table with his pillow placed on top.

A small hum slipped passed your lips as you began to make your bed for the night. Hopefully it will be as comfortable as Joel has tried to make you believe.

“You’re really desperate aren’t you.” A voice carried its way from the kitchen entrance.

“Excuse me?” You turned to Heather with a shocked look.

“Desperation it’s dripping off of you like melted snow.” Heather said as if she was talking about the weather, “And your insecurity too, very unflattering might I add. When did your father die? I just want to know when your daddy issues started or have you always had a thing for older men?”

I stood up straight as I glared at you, “Just what’s your plan here? You really think you can throw insults at me and I would just crumble?”

“Oh I’m not insulting you at all. I’m just saying what I see and I don’t see much. Goodnight.” She smiled before walking away, leaving you there fuming.

What in the world was that about?

“I can’t wait for her to get out of my fucking house.” You muttered as you lied down on the couch.

You came to as you felt the warm glow of the sun hit your face. You stretched your arms as you yawned, rolling over to stretch further on your bed. Only you weren’t on your bed and you soon felt gravity as you fell onto the floor with a thud.

“Ow…” You groaned as you blinked your eyes open.

“Mornin.” Came Joel’s deep voice that felt like melted butter and whiskey.

“Fuck… Don’t do that.” You groaned as you rubbed your eyes with the palms of your hand.

His brows furrowed in confusion, “Do what?”

“Say mornin’ like you just came back from doing hard labor.” You huffed.

“But I did just come back from doing that.” He chuckled.

He did? Wait. Is his shirt off?

“Huh?” You asked dazed.

You tilted your head to find him leaning against the entry way with a mug of coffee in his hand, shirt intact. A bubble of disappointment filled your face until you spotted his smirk.

Shit… He knew what I was thinking. Of course he did.

You grumbled incoherent words, no doubt insults towards the older man as you stood up.

Joel watched you get up, he couldn’t help it. His eyes traced the skin visible from where your shirt had risen up as you slept. It was only, but a second before he shook those unwelcome thoughts away.

“Talked with Tommy, Ellie wants you to work with her at the barn.” Joel relayed the message he was given, “She’s waitin for ya.”

“Work at the barn? But I’m not that good with horses…” You sighed lightly in defeat, “But for Ellie, I’ll go get ready.”

“Atta girl.” He was grinning now and you knew he was remembering the last time you tried to saddle up your horse.

You weren’t bad at taking care of and saddling up horses so to say… You just weren’t that good at it either.

“Don’t.” You muttered.

“Wasn’t going to.” He mused as he took a sip of his coffee.

You padded over to him and reached your hand out, “Gimme.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “Get your own, firefly.”

“I don’t want to get my own. I just want a sip. Please.” You reached towards his mug again.

He didn’t even try to pull it away from you. He just let you grab the mug out of his hand and drink the coffee he made for himself. How he was, the way he acted… It was like before.

Was this all because I massaged his head? You mused to yourself as you took another sip of his coffee. You couldn’t take your eyes off of his rugged handsome face. He looked a lot more rested. You noted.

You also noticed the way his eyes seemed to be staring at the way your lips wrapped around the rim of his mug.

“Morning you two!” The spry voice had you jumping.

You had forgotten that she was here.

“Morning.” Joel greeted.

You nodded at her, not wanting to greet her with a good morning after the way she spoke to you last night. You wondered if you should tell Joel what she said… Then you wondered if he would believe you over her.

He was in such a good mood though, you didn’t want to ruin anything.

“Tris and Maria are coming by for lunch, they want to talk to you about something.” You said to her as politely as you possibly could.

“They did? Well I don’t have any work today so I suppose I can tidy up the house a bit and make lunch for when they arrive.” Heather agreed.

As long as she agrees to moving out then I don’t care what she does.

Heather then poured herself a cup of coffee before looking towards Joel, “Do you want a cup handsome?” She asked him with a light tone.

A scowl made its way onto your face. You held up the mug you were holding towards her.

“He’s got some, but thanks.” You stated smugly as you handed Joel his coffee mug back.

He brought his mug up to his lips and took a sip from where your lips were just moments before. He looked none the wiser at the two women about to scratch each other’s eyes out. Of course he didn’t. Joel was never good at feelings.

You could see a scowl quickly appear and disappear on Heather’s face before she was back to her cheerful self.

“Okay, well there’s more here if anyone wants some.” She said before taking a sip.

You left the two and emerged fifteen minutes later dressed and ready to head out. Joel who was now sitting at the kitchen table with Heather talking about how Joel had to go help his brother today so he couldn’t help Heather clean the house.

You stepped up beside Joel, standing next to him while he remained seated. You ran your right hand through his freshly trimmed haircut, something that he didn’t mind at all.

“I’m going to head out to see Ell’s. Do you want me to pick up anything while I’m gone?” You asked him and only him.

Heather was leaving soon. You thought dismissively. Good riddance.

“We’re out of carrots. Maybe the two of you can stop by the garden and pick some up?” Joel asked.

You nodded your head as your hand traveled down to the side of his neck, “Anything else?” You asked as you rubbed the sliver of skin that wasn’t hidden by his flannel.

“No…” Joel said, his voice much lower than before as he glanced down at his coffee mug.

You gave Heather a triumphant look before stepping away, “See you later.” You waved them off before leaving.

It wasn’t long before I was met with an excited Elli who jumped on my back the moment she saw me.

“Soooo? How did it go? Was my leaving all for not?” She pressed, wanting to get all the gossip, “Shall I get my pitchfork?”

“I think everything went well.” I said as I smiled softly to myself.

I carried her over to the stables, trying my best not to topple over with the growing girl. I aware she was getting taller by the day.

“Maria told me that Heather’s finally leaving!” Ellie fist pumped the air by my head, “Dude, I swear she is weird as hell. Definitely hiding a bomb or something.”

I laughed as I set her down by the barn doors, “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

I faced her with my hands on my hips, “Now little bug. What is our mission today?”

A wide grin spread across her face as she clapped her hands, “Have you ever trimmed hooves before?”

My face fell, “Don’t tell me…”

“Yep!” Ellie exclaimed, “Get ready to possibly be bit, stepped on, and kicked.”

My eyes widened at her words.

“Let’s get to it!” Ellie stated as she grew open the barn doors.

“Oh boy.” I sighed, but followed my daughter nonetheless.

The sun was high in the sky by the time you and Ellie were walking down our street. The two of you were holding hands as Ellie swung your linked hands as hard as she could. Your other hand was carrying a small bag of carrots that Joel had asked for and you hoped he’d be pleased that you remembered.

The two of you were laughing as Ellie recounted your great fail at trying to keep Buttercup still.

“I still can’t believe she pushed you over.” Ellie laughed as you both walked into the house, “Joel!” She yelled.

The two of your were giggling as you entered the living room to find the two of them on the couch. Heather was in a mess of tears, clinging to Joel who was trying to console her.

“Uh…” Ellie’s voice trailed off in confusion, “What’s going on?”

You left to place the bag of carrots on the kitchen counter before returning to the living room to listen to Joel explain.

“She’s having a panic attack.” Joel explained as Heather buried her face into his shirt.

He was quick to pull her into his side and settle her. That movement made you frown as you watched the two. Why the hell is she snuggling up to him? Why is he allowing it?

“About what?” You asked as you looked between the two skeptically.

“About leaving. She doesn’t want to go.” Joel explained.

“I’m sorry!” Heather sobbed and you couldn’t tell if she was really crying or if she was that good of an actress.

“It’s just I don’t feel comfortable around anyone else.” She continued, her voice laced with guilt and remorse.

“What do you mean? You and Tris get along great. I know that because she told me that herself.” You crossed your arms, not buying the ‘I’m scared act’, “She said that you two go out for lunch together almost everyday.”

“I know, but that’s different than living with someone. She’s the first friend that I made here and I just don’t want to ruin it. I can’t bring myself to leave, I’m so sorry dear.” Heather carried on as she wiped her tears.

You sighed, not liking the idea of trying to console her, but you would use any means if it would get her out. It’s been weeks now and you’ve just about had enough, especially after last night.

“I’m sure to won’t be too bad.” You tried to persuade her, “It might be nice living with someone your age.”

“But you have proved it yourself that’s not the case.” She countered as she motioned to Joel and Ellie.

“I’m just gonna go…” Ellie made a motion to go upstairs and you nodded before she ran away.

Lucky girl.

“I don’t want to be a burden to any of you. I really am sorry for my decision, please don’t hate me.” Heather insisted, “I really would love for us to be friends.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. Like hell you want to be friends and you you’ve been a burden since you set foot through my door.

“I’m sorry, hate you?” You huffed as you popped your hip out with a knowing look, “After what you said last night, that word doesn’t even cover it. So yeah I do. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

“Be nice.” Joel scolded with a low tone directed towards me.

“You don’t know what she—“ You tried to explain what happened last night. How small she made you feel, but Heather wouldn’t allow it.

She leaned into Joel as her panic attack rose, “I didn’t say anything I swear I didn’t. I just want to belong here. You saved me Joel, please don’t abandon me. I can’t bear the thought of being alone.”

“I won’t abandon you… You can stay here.” Joel insisted which made your blood boil.

Was he being serious right now?

“Joel.” You turned your attention to him, trying your best to keep from shouting, “Can I talk to you for a minute in private?”

Joel nodded his head before following out to the front porch.

“You can’t let her stay.” You said the moment the door shut behind you both.

“She said that she thought it over some more and she wouldn’t feel comfortable living with someone she doesn’t really know.” He sighed.

But she’s been living with us. I wanted to say, but I held my tongue.

“Please just trust me.” You grabbed his arm with a pleading look on your face, “I’m being serious right now Joel. You don’t know her that well. Hell, none of us do. I swear she’s been acting strange the moment you brought her here. First my room, then breakfast and taking over my tasks, trying to cut your hair. Not to mention the fact that she said that I—”

You could see the way his face came to a conclusion of something and you had hoped that maybe then he was realizing what you had been seeing since day one, but of course… You were wrong.

“You’re jealous.” He stated simply.

“What?” You shook your head at the audacity of this man, “No, I’m not.”

He pulled his arm from your grip, “Yes. Yes you are. That’s why you’ve been acting like she has some kind of vendetta against you. She told me you were jealous and that’s why you have been mean to her, but I didn’t think you would go this far to push her out of our lives after the horror she’s experienced.”

You felt a strong punch to your gut as you listened to him speak. The way he spoke about her as if your feelings meant nothing to him made you want to scream.

“She’s the nicest person in this town and has been nothing, but kind to you and Ellie. She’s scared and you’re only making it worse for her to settle in here.” He finished with a sigh.

She doesn’t know us. You don’t understand. Why won’t you listen? You thought angrily.

“Are you being serious right now?” You glared at him, “You’re… You’re defending her over me?”

“I’m not defending no one. I’m saying that you’re taking this too far.” He ran a hand through his unruly hair with a huff, “You need to put your feelings aside for me and realize that she just wants to feel at home somewhere. After what she’s been through, she needs comfort and we can give that to her.”

Angry tears formed in your eyes, but you held them back. You couldn’t believe what Joel was saying and it hurt how much he wasn’t listening to you.

“Fuck you and fuck her comfort! I don’t feel comfortable! Right now. Right here. Hell, this past week I have felt anything but comfort. I feel unwelcome in my own home Joel.” You cried out.

“Don’t do this firefly. You need to start letting people in. That’s what you told me when we first met remember?” He placed a hand on your shoulder, “Who knows… Maybe it’s best that she stays. The three of you can help each other feel at home here.”

“Her help us? We’ve been just fine on our own, thank you. The three of us! No more and no less!” You shoved him which barely made him move.

He remained silent as he let you rant, his hand falling back to his side.

“I don’t want her here. I want her gone Joel.” You stated firmly, “Ellie doesn’t want her here either.”

Joel sigh as he crossed his arms, “Heather told me about the things you said to her last night. The horrible things you said to her and the threats you made.” Joel said suddenly with a disapproving tone to his voice, “I thought you were better than that especially after what you went through. I thought you of all people would make someone feel welcomed.”

You felt small under his gaze as you tried to explain yourself, “Of course I would try to make everyone feel welcome and I did Joel. I did try, but she…” Your brows furrowed, “I didn’t say anything to her last night…” Your eyes widened at the realization of what she was doing. She was pitting Joel against you with lies and it was working… Again.

That final thought made you snap as you stepped away from Joel.

“That bitch.” You seethed as you rushed into the house.

“What are you doing? Wait! Don’t!” Joel yelled from behind you, but you were on a mission.

You bounded up the steps, much faster than Joel could as you raced to your room. You had a feeling that she was gloating with her new success in making Joel turn against you. Of course she did, she was downright evil. The door banged against the wall as you shoved it open, finding her sitting at the foot of your bed.

“How dare you come into my home and try to turn him against me.” You sneered as you took quick steps towards her, “I didn’t say anything to you, it was you who has been fucking with me ever since you’ve gotten here! What is your goal here? To take over my life?”

Heather’s eyes widened as an anxious expression appeared on her face, “I have no idea what you are talking about dear—”

It was such a relief seeing her skin turn red as you finally got the chance to slap her across her smug face. Her scream did nothing to stop your anger from rising.

You swiftly grabbed the collar of her shirt before she could get up and run. You wanted to make your threat clear as you glared down at her, “You’re not welcome here.”

Her expression went from panicked to calm as she relaxed in your grip. It unnerved you as you watched her persona change so quickly.

“Oh, but I think I am.” Heather whispered with a smirk, “And soon nobody here will feel safe. Not even your precious Ellie.”

That hit a nerve in you at the mention of Ellie’s name.

“Fuck you.” You spat in her face as you lunged yourself on top of her.

You pinned her down to the bed as she gasped for breath. Your hands wrapped around her throat and she desperately tried to claw at your hands, but nothing nudged you.

The only thing that you could feel was a motherly rage at the mention of Ellie not being safe. You would burn this entire town down before letting that happen.

Die. Die. Die. Die.

It was a blink of an eye before you were roughly pulled off of her and thrown into your old dresser. The dresser shook and a picture frame of you, Joel, and Ellie toppled to the ground with a sickening crack. You gasped at the impact as pain rippled through your side and you had a feeling that it would be bruised in the morning.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Joel raised his voice, directing his anger towards you.

“You don’t understand!” You yelled at him as you gripped onto the dresser to keep yourself from falling to the floor, “Can you not see it or are you too blinded by the helpless victim act?”

“I think you should leave tonight.” Joel stated, his eyes flickered to you leaning into the dresser, but said nothing of it. He wasn’t aware of how much strength he used when he pulled you off of Heather. The only thing currently running through his head was not seeing anyone die tonight.

“What? Leave?” You looked up at him confused, “Did you not hear a word I just said? She is using you!”

Joel sighed, “What could she possibly be using me for? I have nothing to offer.” He shook his head, “I think it’s best you leave and clear your head. Maybe when you get some space you will see that she is not a threat.”

You looked at the woman who cowered on the bed, out of view from Joel, but not from you. You could see the victory in her eyes as she watched Joel protect her and not you.

You looked back to Joel with an empty feeling in your chest, “I want you to remember this moment when you realize I’m right, Miller. Goodbye.”

You swiftly stepped out of the room, ignoring the throbbing pain in your side. You saw Ellie peer out from her room with a concerned and scared expression on her face.

“What… What’s going on?” She asked with a timid voice, “Are you leaving? You’re leaving me?”

You shook your head as tears filled your eyes and quickly pulled her into a hug despite the pain you were feeling, “No of course I’m not leaving. I’m just going to stay with Tommy and Maria tonight, but listen…” You looked back and saw that neither of them had followed you out of the room.

You looked back towards Ellie and whispered in her ear, “Heather is dangerous. I don’t know what she has planned or why yet, but I need you to keep your knife close and keep an eye on Joel l until I figure it out okay?”

“Okay.” Ellie nodded, “I will, I promise.” Her eyes suddenly looked past your shoulder to Joel who was walking out of your room.

“I love you, my daughter.” You kissed her on the top of her head before quickly making your way downstairs, “See you later bug.”

“Love you too mom… See you later…” You heard her broken voice say as you walked out the front door.

I will end you, Heather. I will fucking end you.

[ddejavvu]

Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 2) / Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 (Final Part)

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 16.1K / navigation / inbox

A/N: part two!! thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of the sweet, lovely feedback i got on part one, i was so happy you enjoyed the opening chapter!! this part gives some more backstory on reader+bradley, and i hope you like it just as much as you did the first! once more i'd love to hear your thoughts, thank you to everyone who said something wonderful and kind about the first part, it meant a lot to me. <3

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Instead of your alarm, you wake up to a call from Carole. It’s 7:29, and when you raise the phone to your ear, your voice is gruff and achy with sleep.

“Hello?”

It feels just like yesterday. Yesterday, that comes flooding back to you in a barrage of awful memories. All that’s changed is the bed you’re in; you’re still alone. You almost miss Carole’s response because you’re slowly taking in everything that hits you like an anvil from above, but you catch the last word and can discern her meaning.

“-visit?”

“Yeah,” You rub your eyes, feeling tears already gathered there; a great way to start your morning.

“Yeah, I’ll visit,” You confirm, and your alarm buzzes against your head. You hastily shut it off and yawn, only inducing more tears and sighing as you speak again, “I’m gonna run to the store real quick, get some stuff for cookies. He convinced me to sneak them in.”

“That boy,” Carole huffs, and even half-asleep, you hear her voice laced with fondness for her son, “Alright honey. How y’doin’?”

“Um,” You ponder, truly unsure as your fingers pick at a stray thread on the blanket; you’d been meaning to replace it for months. “Okay. Not okay, but not- not as bad as yesterday. I think-” You swallow, throat convulsing, “I think I love lying to him if it means I have him back.”

She’s silent for a moment, letting your words sink into your own brain. You feel guilty for them, just like you feel guilty for leading Bradley on, pretending nothing is wrong when your entire lives have fallen apart. But she eventually responds with all of the kindness and love she has inside of her, which is a lot.

“I know, baby. And it’s okay, it’ll get better. It’ll turn out right.”

“I hope so,” You breathe shakily, wishing either her or your boyfriend (pretend boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend?) were there to rub soothing circles into your back. 

“I know so.” She promises, and she’s never promised something she couldn’t guarantee. You hope this isn’t her first strike, because her never-ending optimism miraculously lifts your dreary spirits until your chest doesn’t ache with a sob begging to break free. “Alright, baby doll, I’ll let’cha get to baking. I’m gonna see if they’ll let me sneak in early, I- Oh! Nurse,” She calls away from the phone, and you hear her move on the other end, no doubt chasing down a poor nurse that doesn’t want to get fired for letting her in before visiting hours. You hang up the call with a snort, fond of how her fierce love for those around her hasn’t faded in all the time you’ve known her.

Pulling yourself out of bed is hard, but you do it for Bradley. You’re sluggish as you traipse to the bathroom, using deodorant in place of a shower and brushing your hair back into a ponytail. Showers are for people who have the luxury of time, you need to bake fast, and get over there to see if Bradley wakes up remembering anything new- er, old. You hope that he doesn’t, and then you hope that doesn’t make you a bad person.

One of the things you love about the place you’d shared with Bradley is that it’s close to a shopping center with a grocery store. It means that you walk to the supermarket, sandals on your feet and ratty, day-old clothes still on. No one seems to mind when you grab a basket looking like you’ve risen from the dead, and you collect the ingredients for Bradley’s favorite cookies with a skillful, experienced hand. You haven’t paid for anything by card in a while, you’d used emergency cash for the motel, and you wonder if you’ve been locked out of your joint bank account. Probably not; if the state of Bradley’s place had been any indication, he wants you back. But you’re cautious using the card anyways, in case a big red screen comes to life on the monitor in front of you and tells you you’re a terrible girlfriend. Almost a terrible wife.

You’re glad that you don’t run into any of your neighbors on the walk back home, because you don’t want to explain why you look the way you do, nor do you want to burst into tears when they ask where Bradley and his car are. You keep your head down and avoid the trike on the front walkway, ducking back into the house without being spotted. 

Firing up the oven feels heavenly, maybe because you’ve been eating scraps of motel food for two weeks. It reminds you of all the times you’ve baked with Bradley, or, more like the times you’ve baked while Bradley steals pinches of sugar from the bowl or tries to lick the beater when there’s raw egg in the mixture, resulting in more batter in his mustache than in his mouth while you try wrestling the spatula out of his grip.

You go through the oatmeal raisin motions absentmindedly; a master at your craft. It frees up brainpower to reminisce, and you sort through a mental file cabinet to find your favorite memory of baking with Bradley.

--

“I want to try the vanilla,” Bradley reaches for the teaspoon in your hands, and you jerk it away, thankful that it isn’t full of the brown liquid yet.

“Absolutely not,” You laugh, “Brad, it’s gross by itself. It’s like eating straight cocoa powder, it’s meant to be mixed in with something.”

He pouts, he actually pouts, a man of 36. The expression has his mustache hanging over his lower lip and you can’t help but giggle at it, leaning in to kiss the prickly hair on his face.

“You’ll have a cookie to eat soon,” You promise him, dumping a teaspoon of vanilla extract into the mixing bowl. He plays satisfied with your answer, but when you turn your back to fold the mixture in on itself with a spatula, you hear rustling behind you, then the click of a cap, and a muffled gag.

“I told you,” Your voice is sing-song-y, and you turn amusedly to watch Bradley duck under the sink’s faucet, rinsing his mouth out of the bitter taste. He’s scowling when he comes back up for air, water dripping from his mustache as he crosses his arms.

“I thought it would be good.” He mutters, and you nod, humming as a bit of batter smears over your thumb from the spatula.

“That’s because you didn’t listen to me,” You lament, “I know everything, Brad. You should just listen to me, always.”

“Oh yeah? Alright, share some wisdom with me, Almighty One,” He teases, pushing off of the counter to join you at your own, “What should I do?”

He moves with his arms crossed, standing just close enough that you know the only answer you can give.

“Mm,” You pretend to deliberate, really leaning into it with a few contemplative taps at your chin, “Kiss me.”

He gasps dramatically, which is the way that he does most things, “Excellent idea. You really do know everything.”

“Mhm,” You nod, craning your neck up as Bradley leans down to kiss you, “I told you. Listen to me all the time.”

“I will,” He promises, “Quick, tell me we should have sex.”

“Bradley!” You gawp, an incredulous laugh oozing out from your chest, leaving behind a snail trail of joy, “You’re insatiable! We’ve already gone twice today.”

“Mm, can’t help it,” He tsks, backing you into the counter and kissing you once more. His lips press firmly to yours, his hands at your waist caging you into his embrace, “Honey, you taste much sweeter than that vanilla shit.”

--

When you come to, you’re putting the cookies in the oven. You’re alarmed at how zoned out you’d been, but evidently you hadn’t burned the place down, and you shut the oven door, setting a timer on the microwave. You tackle the dishes next, using the time that the cookies bake to tidy up your work station. The dough comes easily off of the mixing bowl and the melted butter drips over your fingers before you scrub it away, still slightly warm from the microwave. There’s only a few plates in the sink that you hadn’t dirtied, and you wonder if Bradley had washed and dried dishes while you were away. Or maybe this was it, four plates of food in two weeks. You’d been treating yourself that way, but it’s heartbreaking to know Bradley had, too.

You try warding off your incoming bout of sniffles by retreating back to your bedroom, choosing a new outfit to wear to the hospital. If you show up in the same thing, Bradley might worry about you, and you don’t want him thinking you were too sluggish to pull yourself together for him. You’re hurt, wounded and scarred with lashes over your heart, but he’s the one with the broken ribs and the lost memories, so you need to play the part of the strong one; the uninjured one.

He can’t know you’re hurting in case he asks why.

Your shower is quick, and you try not to think about Bradley in case you succumb to the urge to cry. Of course, it’s impossible to chase the thoughts from your head, and the feeling of your fingers scratching shampoo through your scalp turns into the feeling of Bradley’s. The hand that slides down your side suddenly isn’t your own anymore, it’s a memory of his. A ghost of him, a whisper against your skin of ‘I promise, baby. You won't lose me’.

You hope more than anything that promise stays true.

You get yourself ready to go with more zeal than you’ve felt in the past two weeks. You’re taking the bus today, to cut down on gas money, and you’re sure you’ll spend the whole time worrying. You’re nervous about seeing Bradley, but it’s a few minutes past eight-thirty and you’re sure if he’d regained his memories, Carole would have notified you. Beyond the nerves you’re almost excited to pretend to be his girlfriend again, excited to live in the fantasy life you’ve created to preserve his peace of mind. You never thought you’d love to lie to him.

You’re much more put together today when you greet the receptionist, and you're not sure you could forget the way to his room if you tried. There’s a bag of the oatmeal raisin cookies hidden in your purse and you slip into the room just as a doctor leans over him to take his temperature.

You adore the way Bradley smiles at you. His eyes meet yours as you stand in the doorway, previously cautious and now elated that he seems to like you still. His face lights up and he calls, ‘Baby,’ alerting the nurse to your presence.

“Miss Mitchell!” The woman greets you, the one who’d brought Bradley’s dinner last night. 

“Hi,” You gush, a laugh bubbling up in your chest that’s made of pure elation. It’s a sickly sweet sound, one that you thought you’d never be able to make again after leaving Bradley. You rush to kiss him when the nurse leans away, scribbling down his temperature on his chart.

He lifts his hand to cup your cheek when you kiss him and the tears that line your eyes are happy ones; there’s still time. There’s still time to soak in his love before he remembers, there’s still time to lose yourself in this fantasy.

You take a moment to breathe after the kiss, doing so against his lips. He does the same, and you bask in each other’s presence, noses brushing and foreheads pressed together. Skin-on-skin, love-on-love.

“His heartbeat really did speed up,” Carole marvels, and you scramble to greet her, guilty that she’d slipped your mind in the rush of emotions you felt.

“Hi! Hi, sorry,” You stammer, wrapping her in a hug while she waves away your apologies.

“No worries, baby!” She squeezes your shoulders, beaming at you. You’re sure she’s thrilled you showed up, and you know Bradley is too from the way he grabs for your hand when you sit by his bed. He’s always been a touchy guy, his hands are never idle, but he’s never been quite this clingy before. It’s good, it helps ground you, and it’s what you need after a two-week bender in a motel.

“Brad,” You coo, unable to resist kissing him again when he turns his head to face you in the bed. He looks more comfortable today than he had yesterday, no more breathing tube or pale skin. There’s dark circles under his eyes, but you’re sure he’s still shaken up from the crash, and you’ll make sure he gets to sleep nice and early tonight.

If you’re able to.

Once you’ve kissed him you dot smaller ones across his face, heart soaring at the gentle laughter that spills from his lips as you do so. You kiss his nose, his cheeks, his chin, the space beside his eyes that’s wrinkled from years of laughter, and when his pretty brown eyes flutter shut, you go for the eyelids, too. You savor each one because you know it could be your last, and when he strokes the back of his hand along your cheek, you lean into the touch.

“Pretty girl,” He hums, and you feel your cheeks get hot. Newly showered, you felt more put-together than you’d been before, but you’d spent the past two weeks in a pigsty of your own creation, so the compliment means more than he knows.

Apparently, he feels your cheeks grow hot, too. His fingers pick up on the warmth and he laughs again, this time only a normal amount of raspiness clinging to the sound., He’s hyper-affectionate, taking his chance to dot kisses over your features for a change. The giddiness in your chest as his lips press to your skin, mustache prickling it, makes it feel like your heart will burst. You feel undeserving as he showers you with the affection you’ve missed so much, but you’re greedy so you take it anyways, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Carole was taking pictures of you in secret.

“I have some good news,” The nurse reports, and you turn at her voice. She’s angled towards Carole, obviously having meant to leave you and Bradley be in your couple’s reverie, but when she notices that she has your attention too, she speaks to the group.

“Nothing abnormal was documented during your stay here,” She reads off of her chart, “It’s just the concussion and the broken ribs, which is remarkable for the accident you were in. You’re very lucky, Mr. Bradshaw. There was some smoke inhalation from the crash site but that’s not a major issue anymore, and if everything remains stable until dinnertime, you can go home tonight.”

“Oh!” Carole squeals, clapping delicately with her hands in her lap, “That’s fantastic!’

Bradley seems equally pleased, smiling wide, and it takes a lot of willpower to mirror his expression. He knocks his nose into your cheek and you feel his grin against your jaw, so you bring a hand up to scrub through the hair at the back of his neck.

“That’s great,” You conclude weakly, blaming the lull in your voice on being so close to Bradley and not wanting to talk too loud. Carole eyes you nervously, though, trying to mask the worry in her eyes with a smile.

“You should still rest,” The nurse advises, “Those ribs won’t be healed for close to a month, maybe more. And you can sleep through most of the concussion, too. What’s good about going home is it’ll be familiar to you, and it might help trigger those memories you’ve lost. They’re still not back?”

“Nope,” Bradley shakes his head, keeping it pressed to yours, “I got nothin’.”

“Alright,” The nurse hums sympathetically, tucking the chart into a cubby by the door, “We’ll bring lunch at around one, Mr. Bradshaw.”

“Thank you!” Carole calls after the nurse as she leaves, then she stands in her flowy skirt, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her shoulders.

“Miss Y/N,” She beams, “Bradley’s already had his breakfast. Have you eaten?”

“Uh, no,” You shake your head, “Not yet. Are you going to get something?”

“I am,” She nods, shouldering her purse, “Would you like some hospital pancakes, baby doll?”

“Here,” You stand, but Bradley grabs your hand, keeping you close to his bedside, “I can-”

“You can sit down,” Carole narrows her eyes at you, teasingly menacing, “Sit your butt back in that chair and be with your boyfriend, honey! I can manage two to-go boxes.”

“Thank you,” You gush, settling back into your seat and squeezing Bradley’s hand. He doesn’t let up on his heavy grip until you’re planted in your seat, and even when he does loosen his fingers he still holds you. Carole winks at you when you leave, and Bradley’s attention is solely on you the second the door shuts.

“Y/N,” He murmurs, and sometimes you forget your name isn’t baby or honey around him. You turn, now a little more nervous to be there now that your buffer is gone.

His big brown eyes are oozing their signature sweetness, a golden glint in them under the lights of the hospital room. He looks healthier now, even though you know his ribs hurt, and you’re oh-so-happy to have your Bradley back.

“I missed you,” You confess, and his face breaks into a grin. He nods, leaning up to kiss you, and you close the gap so that he doesn’t have to strain his probably sore muscles.

“I missed you, too,” He breathes, and you kiss him over and over and over again until you think you might be stealing the breath from his lungs. You let up, if only to keep him healthy, otherwise you’d never stop.

“I wasn’t sure when you were coming,” His lips close momentarily around your lower one while yours frame his top in a sweet peck.

“The cookies needed time to bake,” You lament, your mouth slightly dewy from his kiss, “Sorry, babe. I would have come faster, I- I should have gotten up earlier, but-”

“You’re here now,” He cuts off your worries, the heated skin of his face pressing against yours like he’s trying to stick to you, “That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah?” You hum dazedly, drunk on his love, “What about the cookies, do those matter?”

His eyes widen in consideration and he tilts his head to the side, mouth scrunching in a thoughtful frown, “Yeah, those matter too. Oatmeal raisin?”

“Oatmeal raisin,” You promise, digging through your purse, “Are you still on the hospital diet?”

“Honey,” He declares, sounding like his father's son as pride prickles his mustache, “I’d eat your cookies even if they killed me. Lay one on me, sugar.”

You snort at his cocky drawl, withdrawing a cookie from the bag in your purse. You break a piece off, hand-feeding him like his arms are still weak.

“Speaking of sugar,” You muse, stealing a bite of the treat for yourself and speaking with it pinched between your teeth, “I was thinking about baking together earlier. It was awful being alone, there was no one to eat the sugar out of the bowl.”

“Or drink the vanilla extract,” He cracks, and you laugh with glee.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking of!” You gush, taking his hand once more and squeezing it, “You gagged.”

“I don’t know! I just thought it’d taste good! I love vanilla,” He laments, only fuelling more laughter from you. 

“Yeah, well you got a lot of it,” You chuckle, “Anyways, it was weird not having you there. I had to do the dishes all by myself.”

“Poor baby,” He croons, half sincere and half teasing. He strokes a hand down your cheek that you yearn to kiss, but it goes by too fast, “How’d you manage?”

“I thought about you,” You confess, and some of that amusement in his eyes dims, giving way to complete and total admiration.

“Yeah?” He breathes, incredulous like he's twelve and he can’t believe his crush actually likes him. He’s always had that sort of puppyish aura about him, like you’re not just his girlfriend, you’re his best friend, and he’s always happy you’re along for the ride. It’s probably why he holds your hand so frequently, like he is now.

“Yeah,” You nod, flipping his palm in yours and tracing over the lines etched into it, “It’s not home there without you, Brad.”

“We go back tonight,” He smiles, keeping his voice low so that it doesn’t shatter the serenity around you, “Together.” You notice a sheen of tears over his eyes and you fall in love with him all over again, unable to hold yourself back from admiring how much he loves you. You really, really don’t know how you fucked this up.

“Yeah,” You croak, smiling weakly down at his hand instead of into his eyes, “Together.”

“Breakfast,” Carole sings, propping the door open with her foot as she steps inside. Your heads turn in sync, and you see her holding two plates, both covered with plastic lids. “Miss Y/N, three pancakes for you, and there’s syrup for days.”

“Thank you,” You rush to help her, and some piece of your heart stays in Bradley’s palm when you drop it. You suspect you won’t get it back unless he forgives you eventually, or maybe he’ll keep it even if he does. You trust him with it, he’ll take care of it.

You wish you'd offered him and his heart the same courtesy.

Carole hands you your breakfast and takes a seat on Bradley’s opposite side, caging him in between his two girls.

“You want some, baby?” Carole croons at Bradley, but he shakes his head.

“No thanks, ma,” He clears his throat, turning to face you with a puppy-eyed look that he’s had mastered since age three, “But I would love another bite of cookie?”

“Oh, take it,” You grumble, handing over the baked good for Bradley to devour, “But if your blood sugar rises, or something, it’s not my fault.”

“Won’t tell a soul,” Bradley promises, a mouthful of oatmeal raisin already impairing his speech, “Thanks, honey.”

“Mm-hm,” You nod, your mouth similarly stuffed with food. The pancakes are good, considering they came from a cafeteria that also serves tuna and jell-o.

“Y/N, baby,” Carole calls just as much sugar in her voice as is in her breakfast, “Pass me that syrup?”

She’s asking for a container you’ve got in your hand, half-empty. She doesn’t want to open a new one and waste the contents, so you pass it over, but a drizzle drips off of the side and lands on Bradley’s chin. 

He rears his head back as it falls, but he can’t burrow far enough into the pillow to dodge it. You squeal through your mouthful, swallowing quickly and painfully to rush out an apology you’re sure he doesn’t care about receiving.

“Sorry, Brad.” You curse your clumsiness, grabbing for a napkin but getting a better idea instead. You stand and lean over him to kiss the syrup off of his chin, feeling his face split into a grin while your lips are still attached to it. You can't keep a smile off of your face either, licking your lips clean of the stickiness.

“Cuties!” Carole giggles, just as giddy of a grin on her face as is on yours and Bradley’s. You’re sure she’s ecstatic to see you getting along so well, glad to know your acting isn’t just that.

“I was telling Bradley earlier,” You speak disjointedly through a mouthful of syrupy pancakes, “When I was baking his cookies, I was thinking about the times we’ve baked together. Wanna tell’er what you did, Brad?”

“Oh,” He groans, “No. Not fair, baby, I’m bed-ridden. I’m dying,” He sticks a protective hand over his ribs, now magically unable to lift his head from the pillow, “You can’t tell embarrassing stories of me to my mom.”

“I didn’t! I offered you the chance to tell it,” You roll your eyes, wary as you hear a nurse pass by the door. Bradley’s cookie is in plain sight, and he stuffs it into his mouth for safekeeping as the footsteps pass. No one comes in, though, and he struggles to finish his mouthful.

“Oh,” Carol gushes, “Somebody tell me! I wanna know, y’know I love teasin��� you, Brad.”

“Mom!’ He gawps through a mouthful of oatmeal, “Rude!”

“What’s rude is talkin’ with your mouth full,” Carole scolds, swatting him on the shoulder, “Swallow first, mister.”

“He ate-” You start, but Bradley lunges for you with impressive agility, twisting his torso to the side to clamp a hand over your mouth. You laugh, long and loud and brash while Bradley tries to muffle it. In his haste to silence you he tries saying ‘No!’ but he’s still got a mouthful of cookie, and the crumbs that don’t get caught in his mustache rain over your legs.

You’re still laughing. It’s messy, it’s gross, there’s half-chewed cookie on your lap, but Bradley’s holding you close, his strong arms around your head while he keeps a tight grip on your mouth. He’s laughing too, chest shaking as he tries powering through the mouthful of food that he’s got. Finally he swallows, but he doesn’t let go, only blows fruitlessly at the crumbs littering your pants.

“I’m sorry,” He pants, short of breath from chuckling, “If you hadn’t been so hellbent on embarrassing me, I wouldn’t have spewed raisins into your pancakes.”

“Gross! Okay!” You laugh uncontrollably into his palm between giggles, kissing at the skin there, “Okay. You win.”

He lets up only when you stop struggling, letting yourself sink into his embrace no matter how uncomfortable. A thought prods at the back of your mind like a lightning rod, sending a jolt of pain down your spine when it reminds you that this isn’t real. But you push it away, you don’t let it paralyze you, and your smile never falls.

“I’m sorry,” You hum to Bradley, while Carole watches you with amusement dancing in her pretty eyes, as well as in her movie star smile, “I just thought your mom would have liked to hear. That’s all.”

“She would,” Bradley nods, leaning back in his bed, finally at ease, “That’s why you can’t tell her.”

“You’re no fun,” She groans, and you finish up the last of your pancakes, gathering all of the trash (and cookie crumbs) to put them in the can. You have to let go of Bradley’s hand to make it across the room but when you’re by the door you stay there, your boyfriend’s eyes trained on you like a hawk.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” You reach for the doorknob, then, while he can't reach you, “Carole, he ate vanilla extract.”

The nurse down the hall gives you a strange look as you rush to shut the door on both Bradley’s indignant shout and Carole’s gleeful giggles.

“Does he need help?” He looks at you skeptically, and you shake your head.

“We’re teasing him,” You brush the nurse’s concerns away, “Where’s the gift shop?”

True to your word, you stop by the bathroom, but your real destination is the gift shop. There’s a stuffed bear inside with fur the exact caramel shade of Bradley’s hair, and you only wish it had a mustache. Otherwise, it’s identical, flight gear on and aviators over its eyes. 

“Hi,” You greet the cashier at the counter, handing over the bear and a book you plan on reading to him in your downtime, “Just these.”

While she rings up your purchase you hear the sliding doors behind you open, and you turn to see your dad and Nick enter. Their faces light up at the sight of you, and when the cashier gives you back the bear, you show it off to them.

“Just gotta get it a mustache,” Nick tugs softly on one of the bear’s ears, “Now that’s a good lookin’ bear!”

“I was gonna get’im a movie to watch,” Your dad beelines for the DVDs, but you pull him back.

“Dad,” You murmur, walking him and Nick towards the door, “He can just use his phone. Everything here is way too expensive.” You throw a kind smile at the cashier like you hadn’t just insulted her trade, “Thank you!”, and lead the way back to Bradley’s room.

The elevator ride almost goes sour when Nick tries pushing all of the buttons at once. You’re not sure how Carole has survived living with him for this long, but you swat his hands away with an incredulous shout.

“Don’t! I wanna get these back to him,” You beg, bear and book in hand, “I’ll bet he’s so bored.”

“You seen him already?” Your dad raises a brow, and you nod.

“Carole’s there, too,” You hum, “We just finished breakfast.”

“Does he ‘member anything new?” Goose asks, and that little lightning rod comes back, tazing your brain, burning one word into the matter there; liar, liar, liar. All of a sudden the elevator is too small, and you’d rather be anywhere but.

“Nope,” You shake your head, turning to face the doors of the elevator that ding, “Nothing.”

“Bradley!” Nick cheers, seeing his son alive and well, “Made it through the night?”

“Barely. Spent more time on my phone than I did asleep,” Bradley scoffs, and your heart skips a beat, not in a good way. Again you wonder if he’s found mystifying evidence of your breakup, an unfollow on instagram or a deletion of date nights from the calendar.

You’re sure he would have brought something up if he was confused, but you’re sneaking around, and it makes you paranoid enough to believe everything will fall apart at a moment’s notice. You have no peace, not when Bradley isn’t holding you.

“Well you’re going home tonight,” Carole reminds him, stroking over his cheek fondly, “You’ll get some good rest there, Brad.”

“Hey, alright!” Your dad whoops, “They’re cuttin’ you loose?”

“After dinner,” Bradley nods, “They said if nothing weird happens I can leave.”

“Congrats, Brad.” Nick claps him on the shoulder, standing in front of the seat you’d abandoned to go get his gifts.

His gifts!

You fumble with the bag in your hands, pulling the bear out first and passing it over.

“Oh, baby,” Bradley laughs, admiring its miniscule flight gear, “Bear’s almost as handsome as me.”

“Nah, a little more.” Pete squints at it, “It doesn't have that ugly mustache.”

“Hey!”, Father and son rage in unison, and Nick slaps your dad’s arm hard enough for Bradley, too.

“Uh, Carole,” You murmur, but the soft sound catches Bradley’s attention anyways. He’s drawn to you like a fly to honey, stuck in every last drop of your sweetness.

“I need to ask your mom a favor,” You smile down at Bradley, brushing hair away from his eyes, “Can we slip out?”

“Okay,” He hums skeptically, “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise,” You drag your voice out dramatically, leaning down to peck at his forehead. His skin is warm to the touch, and feels comforting against your lips.

“We’ll keep’im busy,” Nick declares, taking the book that you hand him, “Want me to read to you, Brad?”

“No.”

“Too bad! Ooh, Little Women. Wanna do voices with me, Mav?”

You and Carole step out before Nick or your dad could pull out any high-pitched giggles, and Bradley’s mom looks at you worriedly.

“What is it, baby doll?”

“I need help,” You confess, “If Bradley’s coming home tonight, he’s gonna notice a hell of a lot of stuff missing from our place. I just took everything I could grab and I ran,” You recall, dry swallowing at the thought of the boxes piled into your motel room, “I can’t put everything back by myself, and I- I don’t want to force you to help, but my dad and NIck can’t know, and-”

“Slow down, sugar,” She hums, reaching out to rub a soothing hand up and down your arm, “I’ll help you. What do we got, clothes and shoes?”

“And books, and toiletries, and... puzzles.” You concede drearily.

“Baby,” Carole arches a brow, looking almost sympathetically at you, “You brought puzzles with you?”

“I thought I’d be bored!” You reason, shoulders stiff to your ears, “But I haven’t had much of an appetite for puzzling.”

“Alright, I’ll help you,” She promises, “How long are we gonna need, honey?”

“A few hours,” You shrug, “We can carpool to base, I’ll pick up his Bronco, and we can head to the motel I’ve been at to get my stuff. We’ll need the extra space in the back of his car.”

“Okay! Okay,” Carole gushes, and you think she’s almost a little exhilarated by this spy operative, “Let’s stay for lunch, then we’ll go. We’ll say- uh, the house needs cleaning!”

‘Perfect,” You rub at your temples, “Thanks, Carole. And- and we’ll buy party decorations,” You snap your fingers, “I told him we were out here talking about a surprise, so we’ll throw a little welcome home thing tomorrow, have cake or something. That’s our alibi.”

“Got it! I’m off to the bathroom,” She heads down the hallway, “Get back in there!”

“-told you, I’m Jo!” Your dad is standing squared to Nick, eyes narrowed and shoulders tight, “It’s not fair that you get to be everyone!”

“Well if you did the voices right, I wouldn’t have to take over everything,” Nick huffs, “Tell’im Brad, that was a shitty Beth impression!”

“Both of you suck,” Bradley drawls, his eyes tracking you intently as you slip back into the room, “Baby, you okay?”

You shake off any residual nerves from your scheming with Carole, nodding as light-heartedly as you can, “Yeah! Yeah, Brad,” You take your seat beside him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tight, “I’m okay.”

He doesn’t look like he believes you. He's always good at reading you, and everything about you right now is a lie. You smile at him, leaning in to kiss his cheek, but he doesn’t react like you want him to, he still doesn’t believe you. He studies you when you pull away, and you laugh in defeat, “I promise, I’m just exhausted from all of this. But that shouldn’t matter, I wasn’t the one whose jet crashed! As soon as we get you home I’ll be fine.”

That seems to work, clearing away the worry swirling in Bradley’s honey-colored eyes. He nods, smiling softly, “Yeah, me too.”

He takes your hand, and you’re starting to wonder how you’d ever survived without holding his. You hadn’t held hands this frequently even when you’d been together, not that Bradley knows there’s a difference. Your heart aches for the man beside you, how shaken up he must be to cling to you like a lost puppy.

While Nick and Pete argue you feel Bradley’s fingers slip from yours, and it’s such an unexpected motion that you turn to watch him. He’s looking intently at your hand, though there's an absent-minded air about him, and your stomach drops when he ghosts his rough thumb gently over your ring finger. 

“Brad?” You murmur, trying to keep from choking up, “‘Love you.”

He smiles, eyes trained back on yours and full of tenderness, “Love you too, sweetheart. Where’s my mom?”

“Bathroom,” You drop your eyes down to his hands, studying his own bare ring finger. You hope you get to see it decorated one day.

“Do you want me to read to you?” You look back up at him, your nose nearly bumping his cheek. Nick has left the book on the side table near the foot of Bradley’s bed in order to gesture with both hands, and you’re sure they wouldn’t notice if you lit it on fire where it sat.

“I’d love for you to read to me,” Bradley laughs breathily, “I haven’t been hearing your voice much lately. Not like I used to.”

“I know,” You lament, hoping your voice doesn’t tremble. You know he means unobscured, private, without beeping in the background and the ever-present threat of a nurse coming in to kick you out, but you hadn’t heard Bradley’s voice in weeks, so you understand the internal yearning.

“Come here,” Bradley suggests when you fetch the book, offering up the right side of his bed. It’s small, nothing you wouldn’t attempt at home but something you don’t want to risk in the hospital.

“No, it’s okay, Brad.” You shake your head, trying to pat the blankets down around him but he doesn’t let you, reaching for your thigh.

“No, I don’t wanna hurt you!” You insist, standing when he tries dragging you into the bed with him, “It’s okay, Brad, let’s just sit. We can be closer when we’re home, but for now I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He looks crushed. Really, truly crushed, his brown eyes holding such a vulnerable look in them that you feel like you’ve just punted a puppy across a football field.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” You repeat, swallowing thickly as tears prick at your eyes. You lean down to kiss his forehead, “I’m scared, Bradley.”

You’re scared about more than just that. You haven’t held him in weeks, nor has he held you. You’re afraid that you might never recover from this, but if he wraps his arms around you, buries his face in your hair and holds you close, you know you never will. You’ll spend the rest of your days living in regret, and your self-preservation instinct is kicking in again.

“Don’t be afraid,” Bradley murmurs, though he doesn’t need to be quiet now that Nick and your dad have stopped bickering. They’re stealing sneaky glances at the two of you, acting like their sunglasses stop them from being noticed even though their heads are turned towards you.

His words strike something within you that he didn’t mean for them to. He’s spoken unknowingly to your outstanding promise with yourself, that you won’t run away because something is scary. And your promise to Carole, as well, that you’ll make her son feel loved before he remembers that love wasn’t enough to make you stay.

“Bradley,” You breathe, book in one hand as you use the other to stroke through his hair. You’re standing at his bedside and he takes advantage of your proximity, sitting up and off of his pillows to lean his head against your stomach. 

You’re glad he can’t see your face, because tears rush from your eyes in seconds. He’s a sweet man whose brain operates on love first, and thought second, so when he hooks his arms around your waist and nestles his face into your tummy, you know it’s his instinct to hold you. 

At the sight of your tears the other men in the room decide to take their leave, smiling sadly at you while you comb your fingers through Bradley’s hair. 

“We’ll give you some time,” Your dad whispers, but Bradley can hear just fine, “Bye, honey.”

You aren’t able to offer them a wave in response, but they know you appreciate it. 

Once more the sterile hospital room is inhabited by only you and Bradley. Souls intertwined, tangled in some places and parallel in others, you hold him, stroking through his hair and praying he never picks his face up out of your stomach. There’s snot threatening to run down your lip but you don’t dare sniffle at the thought of ruining the moment, keeping your chest deathly still where it yearns to shake with sobs.

“I love you,” You whimper, dropping the book to cage his head to your belly, “I love you, Bradley, I- I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” He speaks into your stomach, and the sound vibrates through your body, warming you with a tingly sensation like the one you’d gotten from your very first kiss with Bradley.

You’re sure he knows you’re crying now, now that your voice drips with tears and your hands shake in his scalp. He doesn't break away, though, only tugs you closer, keeping his face nestled to your body as he pulls you into a sitting position on his lap. You’re mindful of his broken ribs, but there’s nothing wrong with his thighs, so when you land on top of them, you let yourself rest there. 

Bradley’s wormed his nose against your cheek, no longer snug in your stomach but flush to your face instead. He holds you like he used to, before you spooked and ran, before he fell out of the sky in a blaze of flames, before anything in your life was complicated. He holds you like he held you when you were just Y/N and Bradley, cradling your face to his chest and tucking his chin over your head.

“You’re hurting, too,” He murmurs, rocking you ever-so-slightly back and forth as you sit sideways on his lap. He keeps you tucked to his chest, smooths your hair with one hand and holds your waist with the other. 

“I’m the one that went down but you’re the one who got that phone call,” He moves his hand from your hair to your back, scratching aimlessly there, “You’re allowed to be upset over that. You don’t have to pretend like nothing is wrong just because I’m in the hospital. I don’t want you to pretend to be strong if it’s only gonna make you weaker. Talk to me, honey, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t!” You wail, clutching his hospital gown and praying you aren’t hurting his ribs, “Bradley, I- I can’t tell you. I can’t do that to you, not here, not now. I’m scared,” You weep, “I’m really scared, Bradley.”

“Don’t be. You’re okay,” He promises, pecking a soft kiss against the crown of your head, “Baby, you’re safe with me. You don’t have to be scared of anything. Of talking, or feeling, or hurting. That’s what I’m here for, angel, to talk with you, to feel with you, to hurt with you. That’s what love is, honey, and I love you, you know I do.”

His voice wobbles slightly on the last fragment of his sentence, and you don’t think you can handle seeing him cry. You’re terrified out of your mind, but determined just the same not to run, and it’s stuck you in this awful paralyzed state. All you can do is hold Bradley, all you can do is let him hold you, and hope that his memories never return.

“I don’t want to stress you out,” You mourn, picking your head up from his chest to press it to his face instead. You want to fuse yourself to him, so that he couldn’t cast you away if he tried.

“I’m stressed about whatever you’re not telling me,” He laughs sadly, a soft huff of air from his chest, “Baby, it makes me stressed knowing you’re shutting yourself in like this. Knowing there’s stuff going on up here that you don’t want to talk to me about.” 

He taps your head, then smooths his hand down the nape of your neck to rub at your back.

“Tell me,” He begs, voice raw with despair, “Please, angel, tell me what you’re feeling.”

You owe him the truth. Concealing the truth was one thing. Sneaking around, covering up behind his back so that he didn’t notice anything peculiar was a preventative measure. But now he’s asked for your honesty, now it’ll be lying if you don’t tell him. Now you’ll be lying to him, really and truly lying to him, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. You choose honor this time, sniffling hard and bracing your hand on his chest so that you can look him in the eyes if you feel brave enough.

“Bradley,” Your words roll off of your tongue with the weight of steel, and you have to force them out of your throat to get them to go at all, “I want to be honest with you. But I’m scared-” Your face crumples, and you fight to right it, “But- but that’s not fair to you. It’s not fair for me to shut you out, You’re right, you-” You falter, the pitch of your voice wobbly as you take a deep breath, “You love me. And I know I can be honest with you.”

“You can,” Bradley promises, stroking his knuckles over your cheek. He stares into your eyes, and you stare into his only to get a last glimpse of their sweet honey-like hue.

“You should know,” You drop your eyes, unable to confess while looking into his, “I love you, Bradley. I always have, and I always will.”

“I love you, too,” He promises, “Now what’s the matter, honey?”

“It’s-”

“Mr. Bradshaw?” A nurse steps into the room, and instantly the moment is shattered. There’s no picking up the pieces, no glue in the world strong enough to repair the bravery you’d mustered up to be honest with Bradley. 

He looks annoyed at her interruption, something you know he wouldn’t normally feel towards anyone doing their job, but he refrains from snapping at her.

“Yes?”

“We need to run some vital tests. Blood sugar, heart rate, breathing, the like. After they’re cleared, we’ll know if you can return home or not.”

From his hold on you, you gather that there’s nothing Bradley would rather do less in the world than let you go, and there’s nothing you’d rather do less than let him, but you peel away from him reluctantly, standing where you’d been tucked into his lap. He settles back against his pillows that you’re sure are cold now, and you tuck the blanket beneath his thigh to keep him warm.

He ducks his gaze and you see tears lining his eyes that you want to wipe away, but he grabs for your hand again, and you hope that’s enough for him.

The nurse pokes and prods at him, reads machines and scribbles their information down, and the door opens once again before she’s done conducting her tests. Carole, Nick, and Pete step back through the doors, smiling sheepishly at you. You have a sneaking suspicion that Nick and your dad had held Carole off from coming back to the room while you spoke, which you’re grateful for. You just wish you'd had a little more time.

“Alright,” The nurse claps, smiling cheerily like she hadn’t just shattered your moment, “You are in good shape, Mr. Bradshaw. Your blood sugar is a little high,” She notes with a furrowed brow, and you shoot a knowing glance at Bradley, “But everything else seems right. Your ribs should heal within a few weeks time, and once you get back home and see familiar surroundings, your memories should return. All you need to do is rest, once I get these processed and signed off by the doctor, you’ll be good to go!”

“Thank you,” Carole gushes, while Bradley just nods with a tight smile on his face, jaw tight in irritation at the four unwanted parties in the room.

“Goin’ home, big guy.” Nick grins at Bradley as the nurse makes her leave. He claps his son on the leg and this time Carole doesn’t intervene, “What’s the first thing you’re gonna do?”

“Shower,” Bradley rasps, “There’s ash in my hair.”

“Not anymore,” You showcase your hands, dust and ash clinging to the spaces between your fingers from when you’d run them through Bradley’s hair. 

He laughs at the sight, “Still. The second thing on my list is sleep, and I don’t want to get anything on the sheets.”

“Good plan,” Carole beams at her son, hooking her arm around yours, “Baby, we should head out. We’ve got lots to do for this surprise of yours,” She gloats at Bradley, then turns back to you, “But you should wash your hands first, honey.”

“Okay,” You nod, eager to get out of a situation you’d been so courageous in only minutes before, “I’ll- um, get my stuff.”

You bend towards your purse, taking the bag of cookies out, “If your blood sugar rises and lands you in here for another night,” You warn, “I’m never making these again.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bradley nods, but your dad is the one to take the bag, not him.

“Don’t steal them,” You narrow your eyes at your dad and Nick, “And don’t get caught feeding him any. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am!” They echo Bradley, standing at attention. You scoff, turning back to Bradley and leaning down to meet him where he lays back on his pillows.

“I love you,” You hum, and he’s already reaching out for you before you can touch him. He sits upright, grabbing for your hands and tilting his face upwards to beg for a kiss.

“I love you, too,” He mumbles, speaking lowly against your lips as you kiss him. When you pull away he wants more, keeping your hands firmly in his grip when you try to leave.

“Bradley,” You let out a soft laugh, but you kiss him again anyways, knowing he’s still reeling from being a second away from finding out the truth, the extent of which he’s not prepared for.

“It’s okay,” You whisper against his lips, pressing your forehead to his, “We’ll talk later.”

”Yeah,” He nods, arching up into your embrace even though he knows he has to let you leave.

He calls out again before you leave, “Love you!” And you repeat it with a sad smile on your face, letting Carole take your hand while Nick and your dad sit at Bradley’s bedside. The last you see of him is his fading grin as you wave goodbye before the door shuts, and you’re in the hallway.

“Something happened in there,” She gushes, misplaced excitement shining from her eyes like a sunbeam, “I just know it! He was all lovey-dovey when you left, even moreso than usual. He really didn’t want you to go, angel.”

“I almost told him,” You mutter as Carole leads you to the elevator, nerves churning your stomach.

“What?” Her smile drops in surprise, and she stomps to a halt on the tiled floor. She presses the button, and when the elevator dings she ushers you inside.

“He asked me to be honest with him,” You recall, sick at the thought of how close you’d been to losing him, “And- and he was holding me, Carole, like he used to. And I couldn’t help it, I just- I wanted to tell him everything, I couldn’t stand lying to him and pretending nothing was wrong. But I- I don’t know if I can do that again. I don’t know if I can tell him the truth. I tried, and we got interrupted, I mean- isn’t that a sigh? Some sort of clue left by the universe to tell me to wait a little longer?”

“Baby I don’t think the universe is sendin’ you clues,” Carole looks sympathetically at you, “I think you’re lookin’ for reasons to run away again. I know I’m the one that told you to pretend, but that boy can read you like a book, and if he’s catchin’ on, maybe you ‘oughta give it up. I saw him in there, honey.” The door dings and slides open, and she takes your hand to lead you outside, “There’s nothin’ he wouldn’t forgive you for. He was clinging onto you like a leech, and I think he’d understand you were scared. Might not like it, but he’d understand.”

“He keeps saying that I’ll never lose him, or- or that he loves me, or that I can tell him what’s bothering me,” You gesture with your free hand as you walk to the parking lot, “And- and it feels so perfect! Like he knows exactly what I need to hear. Like I could tell him and nothing would change. But everything would change, and- and I don’t want that,” You suppress a sob as you reach Nick and Carole’s car, pulling open the door to the passenger’s side. 

She stashes her purse by your feet, stuffing the key into the ignition, “Baby, everything’s already changed. He just doesn’t know that. But he will soon, and once he does, he’s gonna realize why you’ve been acting so weird. If you were pullin’ it off, I’d say keep going. If he wasn’t asking questions, you could keep this up, ‘cause you’d be doing him a favor. That was the whole point, baby, to let him down nice and easy, give him a bit of time to adjust to the crash before confessing about the breakup. But I should’ve known he’d realize you were lyin' to him,” She scoffs, checking her mirrors, “That boy would notice you’d changed your haircut from just your voice on the phone. He knows you too well, honey, and if he’s askin’ all the right questions and you’re giving him all the wrong answers, that’s gonna stress him out. And that’s doing the opposite of what we want. If this is just gonna make things worse, I say tell him. But-” She backs out of the spot, en route to base to fetch his car, “Not yet. Wait until you’re home. Then he’s in a familiar environment, you can kneel by the bedside and grovel if you want,” She waves a hand in the air, “Just be honest with him baby, if it’s what he’s askin’ for.”

She barely lets you mull her words over before she starts again, “I think it’s a good time. You told me that when you left, you wish you hadn’t. And you’ve spent the last two days showing that to him, even if he doesn’t know that’s what you’re doing. He knows you love him, and I think he’ll forgive you if you confess that you were just scared of losing him. ‘Cause you can’t fake love like that, honey.” She eyes you through the mirror, “You can pretend y’all never broke up, but the way you love him, that’s not pretend, and he knows that.”

“I’ll tell him tomorrow,” You sniffle, “If he doesn’t know by then. I- I know I have to, even if it’s scary.”

“Atta girl,” She gushes, nearly flooring it at a green light in her excitement, “I’m proud of you, baby.”

“Don’t be,” You grumble, ‘Not yet. Not until I do it.”

“I know you will,” She decides, “You’ve never lied to me before.”

“Actually,” You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, “I have, once.”

She narrows her eyes, gives you a sideways glance as she makes a turn, “Oh, really? And when was that?”

“Uh, when we were in high school, I told you Bradley and I were staying at my place while my dad was gone,” Your face twists into an involuntary smile at the memory, “We went to Vegas.”

“What?” She shrieks, almost stomping on the breaks, “Vegas?”

“It was just for a night! And we didn’t gamble,” You scoff, “They wouldn’t let us into any casinos.”

“Ooh, you two,” She seethes, but it’s happened so long ago that she can’t be mad, not really, “Surprised y’all didn’t get married down there.”

“Actually,” You laugh, “We tried. But you weren’t there to sign off on it, and we were only 17.”

She shares a laugh with you at the memory, pulling into the security checkpoint outside of the naval base. You have to pass your ID over her, and you explain that you’re just picking up your partner’s car. They let you in, but you don’t think they like your presence very much, so you get the car and go as quickly as you can.

“It’s the motel just off the freeway,” You gesture in the direction of the place you’ve been staying, “We’ll load up the Bronco and meet back at our place.”

“See you there, babydoll,” Carole grins, already headed for the exit.

You roll up your window just as your phone buzzes, and you put the call on speaker while your phone balances on the cupholder.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” Bradley’s voice bleeds through the crackly speakers. Then, like an attached toddler their first night away from mom, “I miss you.”

It’s just what you need to hear after your gut-wrenching conversation with Carole, and you croon while waving to the security officers on the way out, “I miss you too, Brad. I picked up your car. Didn’t want her sitting all alone on base.”

“Thanks, babe,” You can hear the grin in his voice, “Is my mom still with you?”

“No, she’s driving herself,” You merge lanes, brain on autopilot as you head for the motel, “And don’t ask what we’re doing, it’s a surprise.”

He scoffs; you’ve caught him, “Fine. They gave me lunch. It’s the same as yesterday.”

“Poor baby,” You coo, feeling more at home in Bradley’s Bronco than you had in your half-empty house, “I’ll make you something good for breakfast tomorrow, baby. Eggs, pancakes, waffles, sausage, bacon, fruit, whatever you want to eat.”

He takes a pause, then, “I have something inappropriate to say. But your dad’s still here, so I can’t.”

You let out a bark of bewildered laughter, especially when you can hear your dad’s voice in the background as he groans.

“I get the idea,” You promise him, and you hear Bradley huff a soft laugh into the speaker. You almost want to record the call, just to keep the sound forever.

“When are you guys coming back?”

“I don’t know, Brad,” You lament, tailing Carole as she heads for the freeway exit, “Hopefully before dinner. But if not, I’ll definitely be there when you get discharged, and I can drive you home.”

“And we can shower,” Bradley adds on to your sentence, eliciting another disgruntled sound from your dad, “And sleep.”

“And we can shower and sleep,” You promise, chest feeling light at the night’s plan. You’re pulling into the motel parking lot now, the dingy sign colored more in spiderwebs than in neon.

“I’ve gotta go, Brad.” You put the car in park, grabbing your phone and switching speaker off, “I love you. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He’s hesitant to answer, and you wish you didn’t have to hang up. You know he’s still uneasy about the way that your talk ended earlier, but he finally speaks up, “Alright. Love you, too.”

“So much,” You hum, “Love you so much.”

“So much,” He agrees, more of that audible grin in his voice, “See you later, angel.”

“See ‘ya,” You hum, and it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would to hang up, not after that.

Carole’s standing ready at the strip of doors, and you pull the small, rusty key out of your pocket. There’s nearly ten boxes stacked in your room, and you prop the door open with one as you gather anything that isn’t packed away.

You haven’t changed clothes much since being there, nor have you been keeping up with your hygiene as well as you should be, so the clean-up process feels like a day's worth, not two week’s worth. But you’re thankful for the easy pickup as you load it into a half-empty box, hauling it out the door and to the Bronco.

Packing the boxes goes fast when you work with Carole. It had been much more of a struggle to cart two at a time from your place to the motel room, but with a little maneuvering, all nine boxes fit snugly between her car and yours.

“Alright,” You dust off your hands, picking at the edge of your nail, “You ready?”

“Actually, you go home,” She decides, “And I’ll go to the party supply store. I’ll pick up some ‘Welcome Home’ stuff, and when I get back I’ll help you with the rest of the boxes, and we can set up together.”

“Perfect,” You heave a sigh of relief, “Thanks, Carole.”

“Of course, baby!” She seems to have a never-ending supply of optimism, one that you’re thankful for because you seem to harbor the opposite.

Hauling your boxes back into the house is unexpectedly the easy part. What’s harder is putting everything back, filling in the gaps in the bookshelf with your own volumes, stuffing the dresser with the clothes you’d chosen to take with you.

When Carole gets back you’re dragging your thumb over the shirt you’d taken off of your pillow, ready to fold it and destroy the evidence of its association with your two-week disappearance. She peeks into the bedroom, expecting to find you hard at work organizing your novels, and instead sees you sitting on the bed looking like you’re going to puke.

“Baby,” She hums, “What’s the matter?”

“He put this over my pillow,” You sniffle, staring down forlornly at the object that had offered comfort to Bradley when you hadn’t, “He slept with it.”

“Oh, baby,” Carole whispers, standing behind you and rubbing your shoulders, “He loves you. Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you think it means everything’ll turn out okay?”

“What if he doesn’t want me back?”

For the first time, you say it out loud. You’ve insinuated it, sure, thought about it, but you’ve never said it yet. Not out loud. You voice the fear that’s been bouncing around like a balloon in your head, popping it and feeling the aftershocks flow through you. 

She’s quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say any more than you do. But she bends down, wraps her arms around your shoulders and hums, “He will, baby. He’s been sleepin’ with your shirt this whole time, he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t miss you.”

“But even if he misses me, I still hurt him,” You sniffle, “I- I left, is missing me enough for him to want me back in his life? What if I went too far? What if we can’t come back from this? What if I lose him forever, Carole?”

“He kept my ring.” She murmurs, her voice the calm to your storm. 

“What?”

“He kept it. Even though it wasn’t on your finger, he didn’t give it back to me. And he wouldn’t dare give that to anyone else, Y/N. It’s your ring, he knows it. That’s why he kept it, ‘cause he still wanted you to have it. He loves you even if you did hurt him, baby,” She sniffles, and you feel bad that you’ve made her cry, “That’s what love is. Sometimes you hurt each other, but if it’s love you find your way back. And what you’ve got is the strongest love I’ve ever seen.”

Your silence is enough of a reply, and you’re glad because it’s all you can muster. You can’t find the words to thank her, to tell her you hope she’s right, to beg to whatever deity exists for mercy. All you can say is, “I don’t wanna take it off,” As you stroke a finger down the shirt over your pillow.

“Wear it,” She suggests, pulling at the sweatshirt you’re wearing, “Put that on underneath it, baby. He won’t notice, and you can have it on you as a reminder that he misses you. Maybe it’ll give you the courage to tell him.”

“Okay,” You sniff, a stray tear drying sticky on your cheek as you stand. She turns you around and pulls you into a real hug, and you let her squeeze you before going to the bathroom to change.

The shirt smells like Bradley now that he’s slept with it for two weeks. You’re sure you’re just immune to your own scent, and that he could still find traces of it to lull him to sleep at night, but wearing it now feels just as comforting as you bet it felt for him to sleep with it.

When you wander out of the bedroom you find Carole in the living room. She’s standing on your coffee table with her right leg, and her left is on the arm of the couch. She’s pinning a banner to the wall, ‘Welcome Home Bradley!’.

“Hey honey!” She beams at the sight of you in your shirt, you’d forgone the jacket to not overheat while moving things around. 

“Do you need help?” You watch her drive a pin into the wall with her thumb, and she shakes her head as she reaches down for another one, “No, I’ve got this. You just take care of your boxes, I can handle the party.”

“Yeah, you get the fun part,” You tease, and she laughs.

“Darlin’, I wasn’t the one to take my puzzles and run. Now go put ‘em back, I’m sure they’re the first things Brad’ll notice are missing when he gets home.”

You head back into the bedroom without any complaints. It’s hard to put everything back. No, it’s nice to put everything back. What’s hard is pretending it was never gone in the first place; what’s hard is lying.

You slide a lone book into its place on the shelf, one last spot left beside a photo album. Your fingers brush over a gemstone on the cover and you tug at the hefty spine, catching the jam-packed book before it can fall.

“Wow,” You breathe, barely aware that you’re speaking out loud. The cover showcases Bradley pressed up against the hospital’s nursery glass, peering in on a very sleepy baby you snoozing in her bassinet with Carole holding him up. You’d been born shortly after Bradley, not even a year, and he’d been very excited to meet his new best friend at the hospital.

A flip to the first page finds you in your dad’s old apartment, sleeping in your crib while Bradley’s hand wraps around the bars he’d pulled himself up on. Then the next page showcases a photo of him in the crib, curled up in the space by your feet while you sleep peacefully in your own spot.

You take the photo out of its sleeve, flipping it over to read the inscription you know by heart on the back: Bradley’s attached to Y/N at the hip. Won’t sleep anywhere else.

The next photos are more of the same. Bradley holding you on the couch, a gummy grin on his face at the baby in his arms. His hands barely bigger than yours, handing you a toy fighter jet. Tummy time on a play mat, where he’s holding a rattle just out of reach to get you to crawl like he’d seen your parents do. A shot of you tugging on his wispy hair, then a shot of Nick dragging a crying Bradley into his lap while your dad holds your previously clenched fist open. They tell their own story.

You’d been fated best friends from the start, but as you age in the photos, your relationship changes. All of a sudden there’s puppy love in your gaze when you reach your tween years, braces in your mouth and hearts in your eyes. There’s a picture of Bradley teaching you how to skateboard, and you're holding his hands for dear life. You distinctly remember a fiery flush to your cheeks in that moment, and you’re glad the camera hadn’t captured it. There’s New Year’s Eve in your matching pajamas, you cradled in Bradley’s arms like they’d make you pose every year since you’d come into the world. It was cute when you were kids, then it was embarrassing when you were teenagers, and now it’s cute again. In the photo you’re looking at you can’t be more than fourteen, and you know the second the shutter clicked on the camera, you’d scrambled out of his arms like they were burning you. 

You flip through more pages, watching your relationship blossom from friends into lovers. All of a sudden you’re holding hands, you’re matching outfits, and you’re kissing when you think no one is looking. Then there’s the famous picture of Bradley on his 18th birthday, glaring at the camera with a box of condoms in his hands, courtesy of his dad. Funnily enough, your dad shares Bradley’s expression in the background. The inscription on the back of that one reads: Just making sure he’s safe! Don’t want any grandkids, not while I’m still in my glory days - Goose.

That New Year’s Eve photo is special. It’s you still cradled in Bradley’s arms like always, but you’ve leaned up to kiss him, and he’s leaned down to kiss you. You distinctly remember it being the first time you’d willingly kissed on camera in front of your parents, and the giddy smiles you’d forced into makeshift puckers are clear as day in the photo. 

The matching pajama sets you’ve outgrown together are all stored in a box marked ‘sentimental’, not one that you’d taken with you when you’d left. You have a current pair, red and black buffalo print bottoms with fuzzy black tops, and you plan on asking Bradley to wear them tonight.

You haven’t noticed, but a smile has grown on your face, etching itself into your features as you relive your love story. You flip through family vacations, holidays, birthdays, sports games, barbecues, a million family events that Bradley joined you at. There’s never any of you apart, even though he’d been moved around for his career, because no one has ever thought to take a picture of one of you without the other. There’s no Y/N in this book, there’s no Bradley, there’s only Y/N and Bradley, and that’s what you want to be for the rest of your life. You want to fill out the rest of this book with aging photos, clearer in quality while the old ones yellow. You want to stuff this book until the bindings rip, you want to look back through it one day in a rocking chair beside one of Bradley’s own, faces wrinkled and hair grayed. Your story can’t end here.

Your phone buzzes on the bed, and you drop the photo album there while you check your message. No surprise, it’s from Bradley.

- The doctor signed off, I can go home after dinner, which shouldn’t be too much longer. How’s it going over there?

That’s great! You type back, biting a smile off of your face as you respond. It’s residual from looking through the photos, but you have to remember, you’re not there yet. It’s going good. Your mom is scary agile.

- What’s she doing?

Can’t tell you ;)

- Damn! Thought I had you there. Your dad’s eating one of my cookies :(

Tell him I said to leave you alone!

- He says you’re not the boss of him.

Tell him your mom said to leave you alone.

- He says she’s not the boss of him.

Tell your dad to tell him to leave you alone. She’s his boss.

- My dad’s eating one too :( 

Those assholes! I’ll make you more, baby ❤

- I love you best. ❤

I love you too baby ❤

The lingering fear of a breakup - a real one this time, one that doesn't rewind itself amidst burning jet fuel - is stuck in the back of your mind, and you suspect it will be until you finally confess. But the photo album and Bradley’s messages have combined to lift your spirits, and filing your shoes back into their places doesn’t weigh you down as much as you suspected it would. You try to make them look haphazard, jumbling them with Bradley’s and turning a few of them upside down. You two are notorious for having out of control shoe collections, Bradley’s sneakers and your own shoes constantly tumbling out of the closet like a cartoon.

 By the time the sun starts setting early on your California dream you’re nearly done, there’s just a few last garments to slip into your closet. You do so while wrestling with the clothes that are already in there, a hefty collection that leaves little room for the dress you’re trying to wedge inside. Nevertheless, a too-full closet is better than a half-empty one.

“Sugar?” Carole calls from down the hallway, hopefully not precariously balanced on any furniture this time, “Nick says they’re just serving Brad his dinner.”

You finally manage to set the clothes right on their hangers, panting slightly as you withdraw from the closet, “Okay! I’m almost done. We have a lot of clothes.”

She laughs, “Yes you do! You should eat somethin’ before we leave.”

“There’s no food here,” You sigh, “The fridge is empty. I’ll have to go shopping later. I’ll just stop for fast food on the way.”

“Party’s all set up,” Carole nods, jerking her head back towards the hallway, “If you keep the lights off in the living room tonight, he won’t see it until tomorrow.”

“Okay. Are you coming over to celebrate?”

“Yeah, I was thinkin’ for breakfast,” Carole nods, “We can bring food?”

You laugh huffily, “I wasn’t kidding about there being nothing in the fridge. Anything’s appreciated, thanks, Carole.”

“Anytime, baby,” She beams, but reconsiders with a slightly furrowed brow, “Although, I hope this is the only time.”

“Me too,” You scoff, “Alright, let’s head back.”

True to your word, you pull through a fast-food drive-thru on the way back to the hospital. Carole knows Nick’s order, and you know your dad’s, hopeful that they’ll be tired of hospital cuisine and yearning for a burger instead.

However, when you get there, they’re waiting in the lobby, Bradley sat between them. You hadn’t realized how early they were letting him out, and Carole takes the bag of food from you so that you can properly hug Bradley. He stands the moment he sees you, eyes pooling with such urgency as he tries to respect the no-running rule of the hospital. You struggle just the same, and the moment you’re within arms reach of each other, tears start flowing. Bradley yanks you into his chest, almost tipping you forwards and himself backwards with the momentum of his hug. His chin nestles straight over your shoulder, as does yours to his, and it’s the kind of hug you get from him after a long deployment, maybe even more desperate now. His breathing is ragged beside your ear, but not from his medical conditions, from the desperation clogging his lungs. His fist is tight in the back of your sweatshirt but the fabric is loose on you, and it’s not a tight enough hold for him. His fingers scrabble for the shirt beneath the hoodie, gripping onto both garments and keeping you closer than you ever thought you could be with Bradley. Your hands immediately encircle his shoulders, and your fingers find purchase against the baby hairs at the back of his neck. You scratch through the ones at his nape, hearing him sniffle sharply where his chin rests on your shoulder. The hand that isn’t fisted in your clothes is tight to your hip, gripping you so hard that you can feel his nails through the jeans you’re wearing. It’s not painful, it’s just firm, and its strength is reassuring. It’s grounding to hug Bradley again, unobscured by breathing tubes, hospital beds, or prying nurses.

You hear someone’s phone camera sound off, but you’re far from discouraging it. In fact, you’re going to ask whoever it was to send you the photo later. The hug turns into an embrace, one where you sway lightly from side to side, anything that isn’t you or Bradley fading into the background. Your eyes are screwed shut but tears still cascade down your cheeks, melancholy waterfalls that drip off of the curve of your chin and stain Bradley’s t-shirt. He’s dressed in what he’d been wearing beneath his flight suit, the material thankfully not ripped or burnt thanks to the coveralls. You take the lead, pulling back, but he keeps the same level of contact with you. When your chin slips from his shoulder he grabs your face instead, using it to keep you pressed tight to his body. His eyes are teary themselves, streaks of the shimmery stuff down his cheeks and probably in his mustache, too.

“Hi,” You croak, smiling giddily through your tears. 

He smiles, though the chubbing of his cheeks nudges a few more tears out of his eyes, “Hi.”

You smear them away with the palm of your hand, and use your thumb to rid him of the ones clinging to his undereyes. His hands are on your cheeks, too, and he tries mirroring your ministrations, but his thumbs are too shaky to do so. For fear of poking your eyes out, he clamps his hands over your cheeks again, content with holding you while your tears run over the hills and valleys of his fingers.

“You’re standing,” You marvel, ‘I thought you’d be in a wheelchair.”

“It hurts a little bit,” Bradley admits with a slight grimace, and you back away like you’ve been struck. He doesn’t let you get far at all, dropping your face to tug you back by your waist, “-but I’d rather break another rib than let you go.”

“Sap,” You accuse, and Bradley laughs.

His lips twist into a sheepish smile, “Maybe. You can be my tree. I’m stuck on you.”

You sniffle, brow furrowing, “Huh? ‘Cause of the sap thing?”

“Yeah,” He laughs, “Isn’t that what it means? Sticky and sweet like tree sap?”

“I don’t know,” You breathe bashfully, your voice rife with part confusion and part sheepishness, “I guess that makes sense. But I’ve never been called a tree before.”

“I’ll work on my flirting,” He promises, stroking his thumbs up and down your sides in soft, soothing motions, “Can we go home now?”

You nod, “You should hug your mom first.” Only then does Bradley remember that you’re not the only other person in the room, turning in your grip to see your mini crowd of adoring onlookers.

He chuckles, “Sorry. Hi, mom.”

“Hi baby,” She gushes, letting him squeeze her in a hug. He’s much more gentle with her, out of longing for you, not disrespect.

Nick reaches over to ruffle his hair and your dad nudges you sideways, “Happy to have him back?”

“Yeah,” You gush, a breathless whisper, “Nervous, though,” You admit, “What if he slips in the shower, or something? Or- or some freak accident happens and he doesn’t wake up?”

“He will,” Your dad slings an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you close by your shoulders, “He’ll be alright, kid. And hopefully by tomorrow he’ll remember everything, maybe look at some pictures tonight to jog his memory. Show him stuff you took of these past few weeks, the places you went or the food you ate.”

You don’t have any pictures of your pitiful motel room, nor the candy bars you’d raided the minifridge for, but you wouldn’t show them to Bradley if you did.

You nod, breaking away when Bradley searches for you after his hug with Carole, “Thanks, dad.”

“You gonna be okay getting settled tonight, Brad?” Nick asks, already bringing a french fry to his mouth from the bag in his hand. Your dad has your food as well as his own, and you take your bag back from him as Bradley nods.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. Thanks, guys.”

Everyone says their hasty goodbyes, and your hug with Carole lasts a second longer than you hope anyone notices.

“Tell him.” She whispers against your ear, the words a feather light breath, “He loves you.”

“I’ll feed you in the car,” Bradley grabs the bag of food from your hand when you nudge him towards the exit, “Can I have fries?”

“You’ve been on a diet of chicken and potatoes for two days,” You take the hand that he offers you, curling your fingers around his, “You can have the whole burger if you want, Brad.”

Bradley stops short in front of the bronco when he sees it, “There she is!”

“She’s here,” You laugh, “Perfect condition. The air freshener’s still good.”

“Poor baby,” He heads for the passenger’s seat, swiping a hand over the hood of the car on his way, “She probably thought we forgot about her.”

He settles comfortably in the passenger’s seat, though you’re sure it feels awkward to be there in his own car. He throws his head back against the seat and sighs, long and loud, a noise he would have made fun of his dad for making mere years ago.

“Comfy?” You glance sideways at him, your food in his lap while he rests against the seat. He nods, reaching for the bag as you start up the engine.

“Here baby,” He calls, popping two fries in front of your mouth just before you turn out of the parking lot, “Fries.”

You carefully bite them out of his hand, tipping your head back to get them fully into your mouth. You mumble ‘thanks’ through them, and you’re not sure if he can make out what you’re saying, but you hope it’s obvious.

“I can’t wait to get in bed,” He groans, “I know it’s only been a few days, but I can’t remember being there for three weeks.”

“It’s cold without you,” You hum forlornly, checking your blind spot before merging, your hands stiff on the wheel. Your words leave more of an aftertaste on your tongue than the fries do, and it’s an unpleasant one. They mean more than you let on, and your brain is clouded thick with the worry of sleeping in a cold bed for the rest of your life. 

There’s a moment of silence that Bradley lets follow your words, then he promises, “I’ll be there tonight. And every night after that.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Burger?”

He laughs, leaning in his seat when you turn, “Burger.”

He holds the food up to your mouth, letting you take a bite that smears sauce over your mouth. He takes a napkin, cleaning up after you and dabbing all of the mess away. You’re absolutely certain that if you weren’t on the road, he would have kissed it off. You make a mental note to eat just as messily when you get home, for experimental purposes.

“Can I have a bite?” He asks tentatively, and you turn at a red light to smile and nod.

“‘Course, Brad. I meant it, if you want it you can have the whole thing.”

“I don’t want you to go hungry,” He hums, taking a chunk to the left of your bite mark, “Thanks, babe. Fuck, that's good.”

“Did they finish your cookies?” You exit the freeway, muscle memory guiding you home.

Bradley speaks through a mouthful of burger, unpleasant to hear but somehow endearingly domestic, like he’s not worried about looking handsome for you. “Yeah. I got one more, but they mowed through the rest.”

“Those bitches,” You hiss, and he laughs, “Okay, we’ll bake tomorrow. But I’m keeping the vanilla away from you.”

He scoffs, “Always with the vanilla. I drank it one time!”

“One time is enough for a lifetime ban!” You insist, turning onto your street, “Okay, you shower and I’ll eat, then we can get into bed.”

“Sounds good,” He drawls, stuffing your food back into its bag and swapping it to you for the keys, “I’ll be quick in the shower.”

“No rush,” You croon, holding the hand that he offers you as you take on the front walkway together, “Don’t hurt yourself because you’re too eager to get into bed. It’ll be there even if you take your time.”

You’re bound for the kitchen and Bradley the bedroom, but you remember you have to keep the lights off so that he doesn’t see your decorations. You send him off with a kiss at the hallway, intent on watching him leave before setting up at the table.

“Goodbye,” You hum, standing with your lips puckered in the doorway of the hall, “If you need help, just yell for me.”

“Will do,” He nods, puckering his own lips and pressing them to yours with a cartoonish smack! You watch his ginger walk towards the bedroom, his hips off balance as his ribs ache in his chest.

Once you’re in the clear you flick the kitchen light on, choosing to stand at the counter instead of dirty the table. You busy yourself with your phone, tapping on an impatient text from Carole: ‘Have you told him yet?’

Not yet. You write back, munching on a french fry, Not in the car. He didn’t ask, either.

- Don’t lose your nerve, you can almost hear the critical tone of her voice just by reading her message, The longer you lie, the more he’ll worry about you.

I know. I’ll tell him.

- ❤️

“Babe?” You hear Bradley call over the stream of the shower, “Babe!”

You abandon the last few fries in the container, stuffing your phone into your pocket to rush to his aide. Horror flashes through your mind, visions of Bradley bleeding down the drain or hunched over in pain.

All you see when you burst into the bathroom is him looking like a puppy in the rain, a pitiful pout on his face as water runs down his face and through his mustache.

“I can’t wash my hair,” He laments, “It hurts.”

You can’t help but coo, “Oh, baby. Lemme help you.”

“Thanks,” He mumbles, “I already have the shampoo.”

True to his word, there’s shampoo smeared over his hands. Apparently he’d tried his best, but couldn’t move well enough with his broken ribs. You try not to laugh at his misfortune, especially because he’s in pain, but he’s just too cute to ignore. You try to muscle down the thought that this might be the last time you ever shower with Bradley, even if you’re not really in the water with him. You wet your hands, then wipe the shampoo off of his palms, reaching for his scalp.

“I’m sorry I’m making you stand in front of me naked and we’re not having sex,” Bradley huffs, “Believe me, if I thought I could, I’d be jumping you right about now.”

“It’s okay,” You chuckle, muffling the sound into Bradley’s forehead that you kiss chastely, “We should hold off on sex, at least until your ribs are healed.

Or until you know the truth.

“They don’t hurt too bad now,” Bradley muses, “But when I raised my arms to shampoo, it was really bad.”

“I’ll reach for things for you,” You promise, scrubbing shampoo into his scalp. It knocks loose leftover ash from his accident, and it flows down the drain in a swirl of gray bubbles.

“Oh, fuck,” For not having sex, Bradley’s making some awfully pornographic sounds, “That feels good.”

“I’ll bet,” you hum, “Can’t imagine having ash in my hair for that long.”

“It’s not pleasant. Oh god, babe,” He groans, “Hurry up and rinse it out, I’m gonna fall asleep standing up.”

“Okay! Okay,” You laugh, scrubbing in one last circle at the nape of his neck then reaching for the showerhead, “Have you washed your body already?”

“Yeah,” He murmurs, letting the water flow through his hair and rinse the shampoo out, “Oh my god, this is what heaven feels like.”

“Come on,” You smile, reaching for a towel, “Do you need help drying off?”

“You just wanna feel up my thighs,” Bradley accuses, and you laugh good-naturedly.

“Nope. Ass.” You admit, “But if you can do it yourself, then go ahead.”

“No!” He catches you as you stuff the towel to his chest, pulling you back towards the shower, “Uh, I need help. I think you should wipe down my very toned chest and my tight butt.”

“Oh, really? That’s what you’re having trouble with?” You snicker, and Bradley nods proudly.

“Yep. Can’t get my hands over my shredded back either, such a shame.”

“Alright, you flirt,” You scoff, “Turn around.”

You start on his back, and of course, it’s very fit. It’s nothing you haven’t touched before, in fact, you’re surprised there’s no scars there from your fingernails, but this is more intimate, more romantic, more sweet. This is love, not lust. You scrub the towel over his skin, wiping the water droplets away and rubbing into his tight muscles. You take extra care to dry off the small of his back, smoothing the towel down over his ass, too. Despite his earlier cheekiness, he doesn’t make any comments while you’re working. You wrap the towel around his thighs, pressing a kiss to his hip as you bend down to dry his calves off. He stands still to let you get his ankles dry, and you tap his foot to turn him around.

Now he’s looking down at you as you towel off his calves again, getting any splotches of water you may have missed before. You dry out the soft tuft of hair at his groin and move to his chest before you can tempt yourself, not wanting your first sexual encounter after a life-threatening plane crash to be a blowjob up against the shower wall. Especially not before you tell him the truth.

Now that you’re on your feet you’re face-to-face, though yours is bent slightly to track any water droplets you might have missed on his shoulders. You towel off his underarms carefully, making sure not to aggravate his muscles that are already bleeding pain through his gut. You swipe the towel over his neck, and in doing so, you’ve set your hand just below his chin. It’s as natural as breathing to slide it up his jaw, and he’s already staring at you, breath shaky as you return his gaze.

He moves first, but you take his cue right away. He leans in to kiss you and you’re happy to press your mouth to his own, not caring that there’s a drop of water leftover between his fingers that transfers to your skin when he cups your face.

“Baby,” He whimpers, desperate and longing, “I- I missed you.”

There’s tears beading at the corners of his eyes, and you manage a sad smile when you wipe them away, “Why, silly? I was only gone for a few hours.”

“I know. I just- I’m real shaken up,” He admits, “I- I don’t even remember the crash and that’s the scary part. I almost died and I’ve got no clue what happened. I feel lost, like- like I’m still stalling or something, just waiting to crash.”

“I’m so sorry,” You croon through your own tears, “Brad, that must be so scary, I- I can’t even imagine.”

“I just need you,” He breathes, clutching at your shoulders like they’ll recover his plane, “Just don’t leave, please.”

“Sweetheart,” You coo, equally endeared and saddened by his sudden panic, “We're not at the hospital anymore, there's no visiting hours. Why would I leave? We're home, we’re gonna get changed, and then we’re gonna go to sleep. You’re safe now, okay?”

“Okay,” He nods, voice a mere whisper, “Okay, let’s sleep.”

“Clothes first,” You remind him through a cheeky grin, and the expression scrunches your tear-stained cheeks, cracking the stiffened substance, “We’re sleeping.”

“Alright, alright,” He laughs as you poke at his bare chest, “Will you help me? I managed to bend over and slide my t-shirt off but I don’t think putting something on will be as easy.”

“Mhm. I was hoping,” You reach for the sets of matching pajamas, holding them up enticingly, “You’d match with me?”

He laughs, the sound thick and genuine in his bruised chest, “Of course. I won’t look as good as you, though.”

“Yeah, my mustache is better,” You sigh, scratching a nail over your upper lip that’s morphing into a grin. You whirl on him with his shirt, helping ease his arms into the fabric and stretching the neck hole over his head so that he doesn’t have to bend down. All in all, it works, even if the neckline is a little stretched. He doesn’t need help with his pants, but you feel compelled to do it anyways, sliding his boxers and then the soft material up his legs and tying it tight at the waistband.

“Thanks, honey.” He murmurs, bending at the waist and sitting on his side of the bed, “Fuck, that’s nice.”

“Lay down,” You push against his chest, helping him recline against his pillows, “I’ll be right back, B.”

You change quickly, too eager to crawl into bed beside Bradley to care that you’ve left one bite of burger and a few lone fries on the counter. Ants be damned, you’ll clean up tomorrow. When you emerge from the closet you wriggle happily beneath the covers next to Bradley, flicking the light by the doorway off so that all that’s left is your bedside lamp.

When you settle on your pillow he’s already looking at you, and the tip of his nose bumps your own. You melt into a girlish giggle, something that a teenager would produce after a particularly bad pickup line and a single red rose.

“Hi,” You gush, overjoyed to have him so close again. You kiss his nose in your fervent enthusiasm, and he smiles sleepily against his pillow.

“Hi,” He hums, reaching for your waist and pulling you close, “C’mere.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” You stiffen, but he molds your body to his anyways, “Brad, be careful.”

“I will be! I said it before, you can’t break me. Just let me hold you.”

You croon a sad sound as he wraps you in his arms, a sound of longing, of adoration, of grief. He clocks it as sweetness, though, and holds you close. Your face is buried in his chest and you feel his lips move against your scalp when he speaks.

“Y/N,” He starts, and your heart rate spikes at just your name, “About earlier-”

“Tomorrow.” You blurt, anguish rising in your chest, “Brad, can we- can we talk tomorrow? I’m not trying to hide from you,” You promise, but you’re nestled into his chest and muffling your voice, “I trust you with the way that I'm feeling, I just- I just want to sleep. I want to breathe for a minute. And we can talk tomorrow, is that okay?”

He takes a moment to deliberate, really, truly thinking about it. While he does so, your hands tighten in his shirt, desperately clinging to him. But eventually he nods, disjointedly so into the crown of your head, “Okay.” His hands tighten around your waist as he speaks, and you melt into his embrace, scooting impossibly closer. “Okay, honey, we’ll talk tomorrow. Let’s just sleep.”

Settling into his embrace has never been so easy. Since the moment you'd been in them for the first time only hours old in the hospital, you’d known his arms were made for holding you. They’ve been yours for as long as you can remember, even longer than that according to the photo album you’d skimmed through earlier. Bradley had been the third person to hold you, second only to your parents. Sure, he couldn’t remember it either, and Nick and Carole were probably doing most of the work keeping you balanced in his little lap, but the point is, he was made for holding you, and you were made for being held by him. Your face tucks so naturally under the curve of his chin and your lips press even easier to his throat, kissing at his voice that you love so much. It comes out to thank you for the adoration in a gentle hum, one that thrums against your lips. 

His hands revel in their access to the extent of your back, brushing and roving and stroking over every inch of the space he’s granted. It’s ticklish but you don’t dare squirm, letting his fingers send miniscule bolts of electricity through your skin.

“I love you,” He reminds you as he holds you close, the sleepiness fogging his brain clear as day in his voice, “I really, really do.”

“I love you too, Bradley.” You promise, kissing up his chin to his lips. The pecks you plant there are short, sweet, and chaste, but when you’re done laying them over his face you decide that you want to fall asleep facing him, not hidden away in his chest. Sure, it’s warm and safe there, but you can’t drift off to his sweet face if you can’t see it.

Your solution is to plop your head back onto your pillow, throwing a leg over his waist to keep yourself close. His eyes are droopy, and hold all of the tender sweetness of the puppies he so often resembles. He’s clearly exhausted, and your own eyes slip shut at the sight of his struggling to stay open.

“Night, Brad.” You yawn, settling against your pillow with the tip of your nose brushing his own, “Welcome home.”

“Night, baby. Love you,” He gushes, as if you hadn’t just exchanged the words seconds prior. But it feels good, it feels right, so you say it back.

“Love you, too.” You use the last of your energy to reciprocate, sleep taking hold of you in its comforting embrace. You slip away like sand into unconsciousness, all of your thoughts about love, and life, and Bradley, and none of the horrific possibility of his memories returning. Nothing’s going to ruin this moment for you, not now.

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[like-a-diamondinthesky]

cocoon | k.s.m

pairing... bf!seungmin x gn!reader tags... hurt/comfort, established relationship, angst with a happy ending!!! soft seungmin 💞 cw... crying, reader is tired and burned out, self-indulgent!

co•coon noun | a protective or comforting covering see also: kim seungmin

wc... 948 words a/n... huge credits to heather for getting me out of my writing slump HAHAHA i tried a different writing style here, let me know what you guys think!

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Tears are threatening to spill out of your eyes and your hair is all disheveled from the amount of times you ran your fingers through it out of frustration. Your aching back is slouched and you just want to take a hot shower, bury yourself in the covers, and sleep all your problems away. As soon as you enter your apartment, you make a beeline for the bathroom and take a quick, steaming shower. You let the stinging drops fall from the showerhead and trail down your skin, washing the remnants of your shampoo and soap away.

Hastily, you enter your bedroom and grab Seungmin's biggest hoodie from his side of the dresser. You slip it on, wearing nothing else than your underwear, drowning yourself in a cocoon of his scent. You nestle in the soft fabric, immersing yourself in the smell of the coffee beans and vanilla lotion that you’re all too familiar with. Not long after you lie down under the covers, you hear shuffling in the living room, muffled by the closed door in between. After a short few seconds, the door creaks open and Seungmin enters the bedroom, his hair damp from his after-practice shower. One look at your red, tired, glossy eyes and he knows just how exhausted you are, so he quietly slips into bed beside you, enveloping his arms around your figure as he pulls you flush against his chest. The room falls silent for a moment, then the cork pops loose and your emotions begin to pour out.

He doesn't utter a word as the sobs violently start to escape your mouth, the heart-wrenching echoes bouncing off the walls. He runs his hands up and down your back and arms, silently soothing you as you let it all out. Once your cries gradually get less abrupt, he pulls you back a bit and tips your head up so he can look you in the eye. He holds your gaze as he brings his hands to your face and wipes the tears away with his thumb, gently caressing your cheeks. Softly, he whispers, "You're so strong, my angel. I know you can get through whatever is causing you trouble. You don't have to talk about it right now, but I’ll be right here when you're ready. Just keep pushing through."

He knows how you’ve been struggling. He takes your trembling hands from where they were resting folded in your lap. After brushing his lips against your knuckles, he brings your hands to wrap around his neck, returning his own to rest on your waist as he leans his forehead against yours. The feeling of endless hard work, endless pain, endless difficulties; he’s been there. He knows how tempting it can be to give up, however, he believes you'll persevere. Why? Because you always do, you just need a little reminder.

“You know, butterflies weren’t always beautiful,” he comments softly, causing your brows to furrow. Seungmin smiles softly as he continues, “They start off as caterpillars, which, by the way, I think look really ugly and scary.” You let out a choked giggle. “They’re all fuzzy and have too many legs for my comfort—anyway. They go through a lot of hardships and challenges as a caterpillar. Then they wrap themselves in a tight, silky cocoon, just like you right now; all wrapped up in my hoodie that’s like ten sizes too big on you.” You roll your glassy eyes, letting a few more tears streak down your cheeks. Seungmin wipes them right away. “Right, so, in that cocoon, they transform. They keep with them all their experiences, everything they’ve learned, and then they emerge as beautiful, majestic butterflies.” He presses a soft peck to your lips. “You will be that butterfly, my love. At the end of all the pain you’re facing right now, it will all be worth it. Your hard work will pay off, trust me.”

The sobs you let out are fractured, separated by your deep inhales as you slowly try to catch your breath. Seungmin is firm in consoling you because, in this time of vulnerability and weakness, he is your pillar. He maintains eye contact while he coaxes deep and steady breaths out of you, his warm hands cradling your face. When you manage to croak out a strangled, but coherent, “I’ve always liked butterflies," he pulls you back to his chest as he resumes stroking his hand over your head.

The sweet little nothings Seungmin whispers into your ears are a melodic string of comfort. He kisses your forehead as the last of your cries start to die down and you finally fall asleep in his arms. Gently, he lifts you off his lap, making sure not to break your hold on his neck. He positions your head to rest snugly on top of your pillow and he pulls the duvet tight around the two of you, making a cocoon containing your intertwined bodies.

When you wake up the next morning, Seungmin still has you protected in his grasp, your limbs wrapped together under the blanket. He jokes about how you're a bit gross for sleeping on his chest when his shirt is painted by your tears and snot. You giggle and whisper out a half-sincere apology as he peppers kisses all over your puffy eyelids. Before the two of you officially start your day, you remain nuzzled in each other’s tangled arms as the birds chirp and the sunlight peeks its way through the curtains. You tell him, “I love you, Seungmin. Thank you for being here.” And he replies, "I love you, too, dummy. You're always safe with me. Don't ever forget that, please.”

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