#and then each time i whole ass things i get better. my.. ass gets bigger.

[stone-stars]

you're so talented in everything you do its amazing

oh!!! thank you!!!! tbh, my secret is that i try really hard all the time, so i'm glad you like the things i do!

[send me anonymous opinions!]

[misctf]

Hey I've always been a pudgy and geeky type of guy and now at 50 I wish I had done things different. Could you change reality so I've always been a bear or daddy or age regress me so I'm a jock or himbo?

Are you sure you want this? I mean, I appreciate where you’re coming from. Really, I do. But are you sure? There’re risks and.... Okay I’ll spare you the details. You seem pretty set on this.

Cracks fingers.

Where to start... 50 years old, a tad pudgy, and I can tell that Star Wars shirt you’re wearing hasn’t been washed in a while. Not to worry!

Snaps fingers. The cold air now caressing your naked body.

Much better! Now I can see what I’m working with. Stay still please.

You feel my hands run along your pudgy, hairy gut. You wince as I give it a squeeze. You watch as I saunter behind you and yelp when I tug at the back hair that wraps up and around your shoulders. And as my hand runs along the thinning hair on your head, you gasp as a pressure emanates from within your brain.

Ah...Interesting... I can see it. Who you want to be... Okay, okay. This is gonna be tough, but just take a deep breath. And before I begin, you should know I set my clients up for success, which means... So... right... You’re full steam ahead. Sounds good!

You wince when I firmly grab your flabby chest and start massaging. A groan escapes your lips and you watch as the fat melts from your chest, leaving it flat. But with another squeeze, you watch as my hands begin to fill again. This time with your new muscle tit flesh. Bigger and bigger, until my hands can’t contain them. Firm and bounceable. Simultaneously, your skin heats up as your chest and back hair vanish, leaving you clean shaven. You watch as I give your nipples a squeeze and... the pleasure nearly knocks you off your feet. You moan as I pinch them between my fingers.

Like that? Yeah I can tell. I made them extra sensitive. Like so sensitive that the fabric of a shirt might make you cum. Oh don’t give me that look. Trust me, you’ll want to show off what I’m giving you. Okay... let’s...

My hands run along your abdomen and you feel like the wind is knocked out of you. The pudgy gut you sported before is starting to melt. Painful at first, but when you see the six pack you’re now sporting, you grin. But it’s short lived. You feel my hands firmly grip your ass. And this time, you moan as you feel your flabby ass firm up, filling with firm, bouncy fat and muscle. An ass that’ll always turn heads. And when I give your bubble butt a gentle slap, you moan loudly.

Yeah... what can I say? I want you to really enjoy your new body. Yeah... okay... I get you’re horny. Like hornier than you’ve ever been. But you’re turning out so well. We can’t stop now! Oh! Look at that! Your skin is starting to tan! See? We just need to get started and the rest follows. It’s like your body knows what its destined to become. But we’re missing something...

I run my hands up and down your arms, filling each of them with muscle. And then more. And then even more. They feel heavier to you. Bulging as if you’d just done curls for days. My hands don’t even come close to being able to wrap around them. And your shoulders... you’d never thought the whole ‘shoulders like boulders’ would ever apply to you. Now you’re a shining example.

Yeah, I know. Damn, dude. And I should ask... what’s your skin care routine? I jest, I jest. You’re 21, of course you have great skin! Haha you look so happy! Beats being 50, right? Oh! Before I forget...

You watch as I pull out a baseball cap and slap it on your head. Beneath it, you feel a burning sensation as your thinning hair grows in rapidly. And a few blond curls poke out from beneath your new hat.

So, what do you think? Of course, of course. I told you I’d help. And god, I gotta say you turned out hot. Now, I did tell you earlier that I set my clients up for success. And right now, you might have the body, but do you have the mindset? Okay, calm down... I did say there were risks, right? And I can’t let you ruin my work. Just stay still and...

You feel my hand on your head. And another around your growing cock.

Right... how does computer science fit into the new you? Or comic books? Okay, let’s get rid of that... and let’s move this here... and... Hey you good? You’re drooling all over yourself.

I give your cock a few tugs. A moan escapes your lips.

Phew! We’re still here. Right... okay let’s get rid of that... definitely get rid of this... Perfect! It’ll take a bit of space for all the knowledge to maintain this look. You’ll need most of your brain dedicated to workouts and diet. And since I doubt academics is your ticket to success, I might as well give you the knowledge to set up a successful OnlyFans account. Have any problems with that? I didn’t think so.  

I tug again on your cock, the pleasure somehow even more intense and your eyes roll back into your head.

Alright, but deep down you’re still that geeky guy. But with a body like this, it would be a waste not to have the right mindset for it. So, you get the idea? Shirtless, cocky, alpha douchebag. No more quiet geeky nerd. Yeah... look at that smirk. You’re getting it, now.

You flex in the mirror, the smirk never leaving your face. And then you turn back to me, gesturing toward your raging erection.

Well, what can I say. I.... Oh... Well, I mean if you insist. Might as well finish what I started. On my knees? Oh, okay... You want me to stop talking? Alright I.......

And as your cock meets the back of my throat and your moans fill the room, I couldn’t help but wonder if adding another douchey alpha bro to the world was worth it.

[nemesyaaa]

pairing : nerd!bf!pope heyward x cute!gf!reader

warnings/infos : fluff and bittersweet angst, no smut actually but mentions of suggestive content.

highschool sweetheart trope. teenagers in love vibes.

╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲╱╲❀╱╲

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sweetheart highschool boyfriend trope with pope heyward headcanons !

ღˊˎ your nerdy boyfriend pope was the one to always support you, more than your own parents and whole family. your academic weapon boy loved to covered your empty locker with full multi-colors post-it with motivation quotes.

ᰔᩚ “ i believe in you, pretty girl like you who never lose.”

ᰔᩚ “ the only thing so hard is the pressure you put on yourself when you think you can success this whole exam but i know how smart you are. and everytime in your late night session you show me how smarty you are, it make me more and more in love with you.”

ᰔᩚ “ if you want this ice cream so bad, you know what to do ;) “

ᰔᩚ “ you know what is bigger than your ass ? your fat thick brain. make me cum so bad everytime.“ (jj forced him to write this tho.)

ᰔᩚ “ but it's okay if you fail sweetheart, i'm here for you. but don't pout if i'm getting more strict in your study lesson. i just want to help you, how bad i will be to let my girl lose like that and don't win after ??”

ღˊˎ- every time you had a class, and he finished before you, he would wait against the wall. probably, playing video games on his console. jj keeping him company.

➸ btw if you're in an exam, that fucking smart brain is going to climb on jj's shoulders to reach the high window of the classroom and looked after you.

ღˊˎ- you and your genius boyfriend loved hanging out in the big library of the school. you helped him with his research, and you liked it when he taught you things. you loved the fact that he was so intelligent, and that he had passions to share with you.

meanwhile, you watched him speak, your eyes on his lips. and he will ended up kissing you. his soft mouth against yours. short’n lazily kisses.

ᰔᩚ pope was the type of boyfriend to kissed you while softly caressing your neck, getting his hands on your sensitive skin by his touch, his tongue pressed yours, light string of saliva covered your lips. such a fine loser boy.

➸ you were in love with his starry eyes. especially when they looked at you, and chased after you. you know, they cared.

"keep focus, sugar. we're not done yet.”

“ too bad, your smart brain actually turn me on.”

“ maybe i can help you with that ? “

“ oh yes, just continue to telling me some facts with this so serious face. don't stop using your brain but start to use your fingers, let them play with something better than your console.“

“ sorry ma’am but nothing is better than my conso…”

you rolled your eyes. and smiled. because you knew that he telling you the truth. you made him shut up by taking his console.

“ you need to make me cum, and i will give your console back. do you think you can do that, nerdy boy ? ”

“ be prepare to squirt, because is there is one thing here that nerdy boys are the most good at is clearly playing with their toys. so may i give you five orgasms ? “

ღˊˎ he walked you home, taking the bus with you. you were sitting next to each other. each of you had an earphones in your ear. you shared new playlists, and you loved going to a music store and collecting old vinyl with him.

he putted the music headphones on your small head, and you murmured a song that he tried to guess by the movement of your lips.

ღ ˊˎ pope was a pogue. he was not rich. but he will do his best to spoil you. but above all, he's a nerd, he's not obsessed with money. like everyone else he feels the desire to be rich but he is happy with what he has.

for him, it's more important to teach you new things, to spend time on the internet with you, or to play a game while you sit on his lap.

“ man, i can hear your boner.” say jj because pope and him were always together. sometimes, the blonde one came at your house without your consent, and his excuses was “ it's just for a game, i will not sleep here. “

"she's my girlfriend, she sits on my lap and plays like a goddess, of course i have a boner. but why my bestfriend have one?”

“ excuse me for getting a boner when my character is literally a woman with big tits jiggling all over the place, barely covered and in armor. and fights like a fucking soldier.”

“ you two are really….”

ღˊˎ you loved as much as you hated when pope helped you study. because he was so strict. he wasn't the type of boyfriend who was going to get distracted and fuck you because you couldn't think clearly and made him waste our time.

no he was the type of boyfriend to tell you "yes, we've been at this for hours but you can add three more hours since we're still at the beginning of the exercise.”

“ can we take a break ? “

“ i already gave you by let you procrastinate while i'm asking you these answers. “

“ ….pope ! “

“ no no, you can be dumb as you want with your idgaf teachers but not with me. if i'm asking for your answers, i will get it. you can take your time, i don't care. “

“ you're so mean. “

“ because i care of your results ? because i care about your future ? fine, i like being that mean so. “

you gave him a death stare.

“ you better change this look before i get far worse than you could have imagined. “

you pouted, even though it didn’t change anything.

“i don’t want to sound rude but if jj can do it, anyone can do it.”

“ the fact is i don't know who you insult the most jj or me….”

“ listen, i know how smart you are, like i know this brain is the most unique thing i've ever seen. use it, i'm already proud of you, but you just need to show me a little of your incredible intelligence. and not only me, to everyone. “

you started to think more and more, and ended up to work harder to gave him the answers.

ღˊˎ pope was the type of boyfriend to give you handmade jewelry. especially bracelets. and every time you wore them, he was so happy.

he was also the type to watch the sunset on the high school bleachers or on the beach sand for hours with you, his precious girlfriend.

when night fell and he didn't wanted to going home, he would teach you how to surf.

ღ ˊˎ pope loved it when you wore his clothes, mostly his summer shirts and especially when you wore nothing underneath. he was a shy nerd so he would never admit how much he loved watching your freely nipples, slapped by the fresh wind.

you appreciated taking a nap on his chest for hours and hours in the bed of your room, while he's playing with his console, and with his other hand, cuddle you a little. sometimes, he randomly talked, making your ears so soft to his calm asmr voice, while he told you about the games he actually played, geeking about the fantasy core that you were clearly not aware of.

ღˊˎ he was your first love and you had your first time with him. was the same for him, you were the first girl he loved, and it was crazy for him how you made him so dumb when he was so smart.

ღˊˎ he loved complimenting you, telling you how beautiful you were, but also how smart and brilliant you were. that you were more than what people saw or thought about you.

ღ ˊˎ he liked how precious your moments were, how time lasted so long with you.

ღˊˎ you had filled your bedroom wall with your first words sharing together, with things you loved about each other, with photos of our dates. you don't want to forget anything. him neither.

ღ ˊˎ you were so cute with him and always stuck together.

ღ ˊˎ you thought it was going to last a long time, forever and for life. you were teenagers in love, filled with hard feelings, young matters, academic pressure.

ღˊˎ but today, back in the present, you were wondering what happened to your high school sweetheart, was he married, was his wife as nice as you, did he have children, did they look like him, did he have a big house, did he have the one you dreamed of when you were teenagers, was he as happy as he was with you, was he still a pogue or had he changed his future? did he still think about you when you can't get him out of your mind ? did he hear your late night thoughts screaming his name ?

ღ ˊˎ you went back to high school. but he was no longer there. you were no longer young, nor in love. you were adults and married. in the same life that you thought you shared.

ღˊˎ when you tried to contact him by phone but another woman answered the phone to tell you that her husband wasn't there. you understood, understood that you had become a simple memory. and him, the hardest ghost to find.

ღ ˊˎ he was your high school sweetheart, such a smart nerd and such an interesting person. it was certain that he had succeeded in life.

ღ ˊˎ you tried to call him one last time. “you were wrong, i’m not that smart.”

and you burst into tears when you heard his breathing and alive voice.

“ congratulations, pope heyward. was the life you cherished for. “

[raychleadele]

So I saw Inside Out 2 this weekend, and something I really love about these movies is they are able to show the purpose of each emotion, including ones that might be easily seen as “bad.” And the purpose is almost always “taking care of you.”

The whole first movie is spent trying to protect Riley from Sadness, only to learn that sadness does serve a purpose, which is showing the people around her that she needs help with something. Sadness isn’t bad, it’s there to help!

The new movie is all about handling Anxiety, and at first I was skeptical. Because Anxiety is just a type of fear right? And we’ve already got Fear in the story, do we really need to invent another character to talk about this? But the movie makes it clear that Fear is there to protect us from things we can see right now, while Anxiety is there to protect us from things we can’t see, and it’s job is to protect your future self.

And man, this idea that Anxiety is trying to protect future me has already helped me handle it. It was such a small thing, but this morning I woke up before my alarm and my brain did the thing - “Wait, what time is it?! We need to get up soon! What if we overslept!” But another part of my brain was able to say “Wait, that’s Anxiety. Anxiety is trying to protect Future Me. It’s okay, we have an alarm set that will help us get up on time, we don’t need to panic, we can relax and enjoy being in bed for a few more minutes.” And it worked. Anxiety quieted down after that, and my last ten minutes in bed this morning were more relaxing because I recognized what Anxiety was doing for me.

Like, I’m a grown-ass adult, I’m 35 years old, but these movies for children have helped give me the vocabulary and strategies to help me recognize and manage my emotions better. And I think that’s amazing, and I’m grateful for it. Today’s little moment of managing Anxiety was very small, but now that I’ve practiced it and seen that it works, I feel more confident that the same strategy will be effective again for bigger Anxiety moments in the future. So thanks, everyone on the Inside Out team, you’ve made something good, and I appreciate that.

[lxstfathier]

Animals

Phillip Graves x Reader

Summary: you knew your commander was interested in you, but you don’t like him in the slightest, and he’s not used to being rejected. You will be his, one way or another.

Warnings: non-con, unprotected sex, p in v, porn without plot, slapping, choking, manhandling, implied kidnapping.

A/N: i wanted to write non-con for sooo long and now i finally got the courage to do it. But, if i’m being honest, i think it fits more as dub-con. However, this fic is inspired on the song Animals by Maroon 5, give it a listen if you can. That’s all i had to say lol, sorry for any errors english is not my first language, and thanks for all the support, hope you enjoy this as well 💗

Read at your own risk

“Did you really think you could run away from me?”

Graves’ voice is dark, low, and filled with lust, much more frightening than anything you ever heard before. His whole weight is pressing against your back, pinning you to the ground, and one of his hands grabs a fistful of you hair, forcing your face to the dirt.

“Let me go, please!” You beg, crying and shaking in pure fear, now regretting all those times where you rejected his romantic interests in you.

“Are you scared now?” He coos, mocking your desperate cries. “Too bad darlin’, cause i won’t let you go until i get what i want.”

And you know exactly what he wants. He’s gonna get between your legs and do all those gross things that he has fantasized about for months. And there’s nothing you can do to stop him right now, he’s bigger and stronger than you, he’s gonna take whatever he wants, whether you like it or not.

Without wasting no more time, Graves grabs both of your wrists, tying them together with a zip tie behind your back, and then proceeds to cut your pants and underwear with his knive, leaving your ass exposed in the cold air, all while you cry and whine at him to stop.

“Go ahead and scream all you want baby, no one’s gonna hear ya’ “ he says, leaving his knife aside and undoing his pants. Hearing your pretty cries has made him hard as a rock, and he can’t wait to claim you.

But, as desperate as you are, you know he’s right. You’re both too far away from the military base, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded only by trees and bushes. No one will hear you even if you scream at the top of your lungs. So you decide to save your voice, accepting the fate that your commander is creating for you.

Just let him satiate his needs and it all will be over soon.

Graves positions himself between your legs and grabs you by the hips, lifting you up a little bit. The pink tip of his cock already prodding at your bare pussy. And, without a warning, he slides into you with one powerful thrust, grunting in pleasure as you sob in pain.

He sets a brutal pace, abusing your tight little cunt with his big cock, slamming against your cervix over and over, his strong hold on your hips bruising your delicate skin.

“I knew you’d feel so fucking good. Fuck- you were made for me baby, even if you think you’re not.” He growls into your ear, resting his chest on your back. And a sweet moan scapes your lips. “What’s that? huh? are you enjoying my cock?.”

You know you’re wrong, it’s sick to moan in pleasure when he’s taking advantage of you like a fucking monster, but the way he stretches you open and hits all your sweet spots is way too good to ignore. The pain has faded and now your cunt is begging for more, coating his length with your slick, and arching your back to give him a better access.

Graves lets out a dark chuckle, knowing that he somehow managed to break you and make you forget that it’s all against your will, just lifting his ego impossibly high, feeling like the proudest bastard around.

What would your colleagues say if they saw you both fucking like animals in heat?.

You moan again, clenching around him, getting that familiar sensation building up in the pit of your stomach, closer to your release with each one of his violent thrusts. But he suddenly stops before you can reach it, pulling out just to quickly manhandle you into a new position.

Now with your back on the damp forest dirt and your legs spread open, you can clearly see him leaning on top of you as he slides inside your wet heat again. God, he’s handsome, but so damn evil.

“You like getting used like a whore, don’t ya’?” He asks, staying still, looking down at you with his pretty blue eyes. But, when you don’t answer, one hard slap against your cheek makes your face go red. “I asked you a question.”

“Y-yes, i like it sir” you say, kinda enjoying the burning sensation on your skin.

“Such a nasty little girl” his voice sends shivers down your spine, and his right hand finds a place in your throat, squeezing tight as he starts thrusting again, this time harder than before.

You squirm under him, feeling his thick cock pounding your tiny hole in the most delicious way, gasping for air while your orgasm comes closer again. But he’s choking you hard enough to cut all your airflow and fear washes over you once more. He could kill you right there if he wanted, there’s nothing to stop him, not even your own hands to push him away.

It’s a weird feeling. You’re scared to death, you don’t know if your commander will be kind enough to let you live, and still you can’t help but feel extremely aroused, bucking your hips to meet his thrusts, making your clit brush against his pubic bone.

Graves grunts in your ear and you finally come undone, writhing and spasming in pure bliss, soaking his cock in your sweet juices. And he follows right after you, swearing under his breath, filling your womb with white spurts of cum, loosening his grip on your throat just as you’re about to pass out.

You both stay still for a few seconds, panting and riding out your orgasms.

“I hate you” you say once you can speak again, looking up at the bright blue sky above, angry at him for what he just did and way too disgusted with yourself for enjoying such thing.

“Don’t lie princess” he speaks, a sick smirk appearing on his face. “If you hated me, you wouldn’t be creaming all over my fucking cock.”

Tears stream down your face and Graves pulls out of your poor pussy, staying on his knees while he admires the mess he made. His hot cum slowly dripping out of your abused hole, your bruised hips, the red skin of your neck and your sad eyes filled with tears. Way more beautiful than anything he had ever laid his eyes on.

You sit up, trying to get away from him, silently begging him to untie your hands and let you go, not even caring if your legs are still weak, you’re ready to run away as soon as he cuts the zip tie on your wrists.

But what a naive and innocent creature. Did you really thought he would fulfill his promise of letting you go? Did you really thought that you could give him a taste and then expect him to cut you loose? Oh, darling, what a shame.

“You know what, baby?… i’m gonna keep you all to myself.” Phillip says, caressing your cheek, the rough material of his black gloves absorbing your tears. “Just as a pretty toy for me to fuck whenever i want.”

Say bye to the army and your old life, you’re his now.

[mixes-archive]

Hello! Can you write some hcs of könig with a short chubby so? I don't mind if there nsfw or sfw thank you!

König x short & chubby reader HCs (SFW & NSFW)

A/N: say less.

SFW

Mans is WHOOPED the first time he laid eyes on you

I’m 100% sure I already said this in my chubby reader HCs, but he absolutely prefers bigger people

That said, your height, or lack thereof, just makes you much cuter in his eyes

Can and will carry you everywhere. Claims it’s because your tiny legs couldn’t possibly hold up with him, but he just does it to feel closer to you and low-key show you off to other people.

BRO DO NOT LET ME GET STARTED ON CUDDLES

König will hug you in the most awkward, and sometimes backbreaking, ways possible

I’m talking 90° bend so he can lean his face into the crook of your neck or tiddies if you have them

Regularly leans his arm on your head and just lets his whole body weight drop onto you

He’s a bit of a pain in the ass

But at the same time he does really sweet things

For example, if you had a struggle finding clothes that fit and suited you, he would regularly gift you handmade clothes tailored to your measurements and taste

He can’t sew for shit, but his Oma fucking loves you and just keeps making them for you (he’s a tiny bit jealous that he doesn’t get handmade clothes all the time too). She also coincidentally has the exact same measurements as you, so you’re in luck if you like 60s to 90s fashion (very hip grandmama)

Defends you with his life and pride

Would kill anyone making fun of you (only he is allowed to do that)

Please also make jokes about his height, he’ll giggle like a schoolgirl and maybe kick his feet while you both make jokes at each others expense back and forth

“Hey there, short stack” (lovingly)“Beat it, giraffe” (affectionately)

Would NEVER let you be insecure, König is constantly raving about how good you look/ how much he appreciates you as a person/ etc…

Please wear Tracht, it will make him love you 10x more

Loves giving you massages (when you ask why, he just says: “klein und weich” with a completely straight face)

When on missions, König will constantly complain about “wanting to go back to his pretty parter” and how much he misses holding them in his arms. It’s very annoying, but also kind of cute

NSFW - Minors DNI after this point

Whatever your sex is, he would give anything to be in between those thighs

Treats you like a porcelain doll during sex because of your height

At the same time tempted to go rough to watch your body jiggle

Absolutely mesmerizing and impressed when you ride him

He’s a little worried at first because he’s pretty big, but that quickly fades when he sees how gorgeous you are, so vulnerable and exposed to him

Just constantly praising you, he couldn’t degrade you even if you asked him to

Doesn’t matter what your gender is, tight thigh highs turn him on sm

Will fuck you then and there if he can

Never not facing you

Addicted to your face, expressions and body in general

König would even hold back if you told him to go rough on you, because he thinks you’re gonna break if he moves wrong

Absolutely holds you in the air while doing it to “prove a point”

“Do it jiggle tho?” Is absolutely him I can’t describe it any better

[night-dazai]

helloo can you please do a threesome with toji and nanami but in a non sorcerers au maybe like a office au and they are my higher ups?

The au isn't necessary but pls do a threesome with toji and nanami

Toji x Reader x Nanami 

Tags: Degradation, rough sex, threesome, smacking ass, female reader, blow job, slight voyeurism smut with little plot.

(picture taken from Pinterest, shoutout to the original artist )

This was the worst, the most horrible thing that could happen this Friday.

 Tears threatening to spill from your eyes you stood there listening to your manager Nanami scold you. His voice was not loud or rough or anything but it was cold and demanding and ordering you to work better and you have not been doing it for a week. 

Your bf broke up or more like got caught by you when he was cheating with your best friend, your house water pipes all broke and you are staying at a hotel. It's the month's end and money is not flowing for you, crying about your break-up was not an option. 

You just had to mess up the worst client order to get shouted at now “I should smoothly fire someone for making such mistakes for a whole week y/n do you hear me ?” he asked looking at you as if you dared not give him a glance of your ugly face sobbing “so..sorry …I am sorry …sorry “ was all you could say looking down. 

Nanami sighed knowing he could not make up look up but smirked listening to your rambling “ I had a … bad…break …up ..it was not …water …pipes….house gone …” you kept rambling. Nothing made sense is what you thought and would greatly bend down again apologising “sorr..I am sorry “. 

Getting fed up with your rand words he spoke “ I should fire such a useless employee but .. it seems you could not get fired “ he said. Cold face getting smug as a smirk played on his lips as you looked up for the first time in 30 mins to look at him “Yes sir, what is it “ you asked.

Tears still running down your checks, but no black lines. Means you don't wear makeup or if you did it was not too much .” She looks naturally slutty huh ?” he thought and pushed his chair and manspread his legs throwing the files to the side “Kneel “ his voice still the same cold and demanding. 

It took you a few seconds to understand the demand, your face getting red and more tears spilt down. You were grasping at straws and this is the straw that you got but who cares “ he cheated not me “ you thought. Your boss was always the eye candy in the office, he was everyone's dream man but if you can spend a night with him why say no? 

Slowly you walked near him as he pulled you down making you kneel and grab your pony pulling your face to look at him “Now that's a good girl “ he mumbled and spread more to let you in. Pushing your face closer to his bulge by your hair “Be good the door is still open and it's 7:30 pm only office closes at 8 pm only “ he said and pulled you inside his desk and scooted closer pushing you inside the desk. 

Fumbling for a minute you freed his cock from the restraints of the creamy pants, and you stared. It was big mush bigger than your cheat of a man's dick and thick you could never imagine something so big in you. Testing waters you licked the tip with a strong lick and earned a hiss and tug at your hair “Don't play around or else it would be bad for you . “ the warning went straight to your core while your mouth to his dick sucking it. 

It tasted nice and salty but hot it throbbed each time you licked it, slowly you tried putting the tip and a little of the shaft in hollowing your checks, while you were busy thrusting his dick into your mouth little did you notice your wet panties and the knock on the door. 

His grip on your hand did not lose “Come in “ he said in the stoic voice he reserved for general business. You could not hear who it was but your heart was thumping hard very hard when a surprise thrust in your mouth had you moaning but nothing came out. 

You kept sucking him while the other person kept talking about how the client was very mad and that they might have to change the project manager itself. Hearing this your head hurts from the strong grip and your jaw burns with pain due to the subtle but firm thrusts. 

Clawing at his thighs you were forced to suck him off while after talking for what seemed like ages the person closed the door. The click sound was the same time your hair was free and your mouth empty. 

Coughing you looked up at your boss with tears strained, a red flush face while he looked at you with a blank face, eyes unreadable due to his glasses “Get up “ he said holding your hand and pulling you up and at the same time the door opened “ boss ..” a rough voice spoke. 

In an instant, you were pushed back to your knees and inside the desk “ Toji ..” kept saying looking quite surprised “Boss I know it's late have a minute ?” the bull-like man asked.

Your heart was beating faster than ever, he was the person sitting next to you at the desk, the other man girls drool over and someone who has the reputation of a fucking anyone. 

Nanami nodded while pressing his foot on your thigh and slowly worked his way to your cunt as you sat legs open on the tiny desk, pressing it.

Holding your breath you covered your mouth to stop the moans from spilling out as he continued to press on your clothed clit, you scooted closer to him and opened your legs more.

“Do you remember y/n ?” Toji asked making both you and Nanami pause “Yes what about y/n?” your boss asked and counited to rub his foot on you. “ Well I think she is having personal problems, she is not the type to mess up such a project. She has been looking down the whole week and one day she looked like she might have cried all night “ his voice got a little annoyed towards the end. 

Nanami pushed an eyebrow up “Mh… yeah I do know but you should also know that this project is about to leave our team cause of her “ his voice was lanced with anger. Toji nodded “Yeah I did hear that but …why not let her off with a warming or something, “ he asked scratching his head.

Scoffing Kento spoke while giving a particularly harsh press on your cunt “Why are you supporting her so much ? You have some relation with her ?” he asked. Toji smirked and looked at his boss without speaking he walked towards the door “No, her boobs and I say hi to each other . That's the only reason I look at that girl “ he locked the door and turned to face his boss with a smug look “ time is 8: 25 pm and more than half the people left the office you can let her out boss “. 

His words shocked Nananmi but he soon gathered his compurese “Well you are sharp “ he said pushing his chair back to let you crawl out. 

You did not want to, you were horrified. Your co-worker found you giving a BJ to your boss and he also just said that he likes your body. 

“Get out “ Kento spat as you crawled out and showed your drool and pre cum dripping chin and tear-filled eyes and wet checks.

“Thought I could join your game “ Toji said losing his tie and walking towards you and Nnanmi just sat and waited for his subordinate's next move. Whic was to rip your buttoned-up shirt open in one go and remove your bra as you struggled “Noooo….Toji !” you squealed but soon it stopped when Toji sealed your lips. 

Struggling under the man as he kept removing all the clothes on you “Please…. don't do this…” you cried and looked at your boss but he was busy enjoying the show. “Bend her here” Nanami said moving a few files and then you lay bent over the desk ass towards Toji and face towards your boss “Can I sir ?” Toji asked permission and got a nod in response. 

Soon you felt something hot, big at your entrance “Nooo..” you cried but it was not loud from your earlier dick-sucking. You tried to push him by his stomach but Toji grabbed your hands in one move and pined it on your back “Quite “ he said and entered your tight walls. 

“AH…….big…too bigg” you said squirming but not able to move much stood and took his length. You need not turn and look, you knew the was big and thick and not everything was in but you felt full as if it reached your throat. 

Kento grabbed your jaw “Keep busy “ saying he stuffed his dick back in your mouth. 

As to rammed his strong hips on your cunt, balls slapping your clit. You were there in between 2 men whimpering while the other abused your mouth. Thrusts from the back made you jerk forward but thrusts from Kento made you move a bit back. 

Being naked on Kento’s desk which was made from nice original oak wood rubbed at your hard perky nipples creating a lot more stumialtion. Never in your life did you imagine such a situation. 

But never in your life did you also receive so much pleasure, a dick filling you to the brim on both ends “Don't cum so fast “ Toji said slapping your ass again on the same side making it throb with pain. 

He pulled out when he felt your walls clenching on him tighter “You don't deserve to cum yet “ he said while your cunt clenched around nothing Nnankmi emptied his load in your mouth holding your jaw tightly making sure you took each drop.

They switched positions while Nnami entered your already wet hole, Toji took your mouth and rammed in with the same force while your pussy got abused more. “That's much better might think of keeping you around “ Nnami said giving strong thrusts as you moaned on Toji’s dick he hummed in satisfaction “Do it more “ he said. 

“You said his boobs were nice right ?” Nnanmi suddenly asked stopping his actions and making Toji stop his too “Yeah?” and with that, both men pulled out again and in a second you were flipped on your back by Nananmi “Let's have a look “ he said entering your hole again and flicking a nipple while Toji took your mouth again. 

The grip on your jaw tightened, and your neck hurt from the angel but your throat inside felt nice and soon you feel both men twitching inside your mouth and pussy. Toji came in your mouth which was already filled with Nnanmis's cum now mixed with his “Don't spill slut “ he warned gripping your neck while Nnanmi pulled your nipples while fucking you. 

Eyes rolling back both you and Nnananmi came at the same time, the laid hot and lots filled your gummy walls, he slowly pulled out with a lewd sound. Both men took a moment to admire their artwork “One more ?” Toji asked not satisfied. 

Coughing and stuttering you lay on the desk trying to catch your breath and life which seemed to be slipping away “Yes of course “ Kento said removing his shirt and revealing a chiselled body while Toji did the same and soon you knew, this was going to become your life in the office. 

At least you are not fired and you can still pay bills. 

[writingsfromhome]

If you Love Something II

A/N: okayy I’m finally going to stop overthinking and just post this one. Please note the tw in part 1. Thank you all SO much for the comments and love on the original…hope this one meets ur expectations. It’s definitely more focused on the lost daughter relationship rather than you and Harry so p dense but...here it is 🫣

——————————————

Age 36:

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Harry informs me over the phone. “I went with chicken noodle soup.”

“Mmm,” I close my eyes. “I could use something hot and hearty right now. I’m freezing my ass off.”

“I didn’t need to make dinner for that.”

“So come here, warm me up,” I crane my neck to the left again. “Stupid delays.”

“I can come get you."

I’d mapped it out before calling Harry, it would take him too long to get here. “That’s alright. Doesn’t make a difference.”

The screen on the platform showed 6 minutes…for the past 15 minutes.

“I’ve either been living in the longest minute of my fucking life,” I mutter. “Or this line is taking the piss out of all of us.”

Two dozen of us had gotten off the last train when it announced it was out of service. Now the number on the platform had tripled waiting for the next one.

“Patience,” Harry says. “Is a virtue.”

“Easy for you to say in the warm flat with the chicken noodle soup.”

“It’ll be yours soon.”

Soon. I sigh and try to release the anxious energy with it. “Thank you for taking care of dinner.”

“Of course.” He replies. Like it was that simple. But being with Harry was like that nowadays.

Despite all the catching up we had to do with the 17 years we had lived separate lives, emotionally it’s like we picked up where we last left off.

I’d be lying if I said it was smooth sailing the whole year we’d been together. There had been a hard few first months where both of us felt unnerved by the peacefulness of the relationship. We weren’t used to such an easy quiet.

I’d tried to self-sabotage first by going awol and working longer hours than I needed to. I think I was scared Harry would wake up one day and realize too much time had passed and he didn’t like who I’d become so I minimized our time together. Until Harry called me out for it.

But then he went off the rails, and for a few weeks I’d been an even bigger ball of anxiety. Ultimately I had to give him the hard truth even though the last thing I ever wanted was to convince someone to stay with an ultimatum. But I’d told him, he had to at least attempt sobriety if he wanted us to work.

There were a few sleepless nights, I didn’t know if we were going to make it. But one morning he asked me to go to an aa meeting with him.

Going together, being in the same boat as a group of people gathered in the back room of a dusty church finally gelled us together. For good. He’d been sober since.

We moved in together 7 months ago. Even though it doubled my commute time—tripled with delays, I had never been more sure that I was exactly where I needed to be.

We held space for each other. Even the heavier bits; we knew what they were. What it was like to hold them on our own. We always joked about how our loads had halved despite taking on half of the other’s. Because just like our venn diagram of love, our venn diagram of hurting was the same.

“Oh god, I better not be hallucinating.” I nearly jump up and down when the twin headlights of the next train peek in the distance. The platform board still says 6 minutes.

“You’re cutting up what?”

“Nothing! Train’s here!”

“I’ll pick you up from the station.” Harry says before I hang up.

I spend the remaining 15 minute ride going over the lecture I’d given tonight.

3 years ago when I applied to be a lecturer I didn’t actually think I’d get it. But in the 10 years of my career I had collected, I had done exceptionally well. It was ironic with all the bullshit life threw at me, I had somehow channeled it into a determined work ethic. After failing many math tests in high school I had found a love for it in uni—it made me work hard, get out of my head with its constant thoughts. Harry now took to calling me a masochist for teaching something mathematical.

In reality it wasn’t that mathematical. I taught Management Econ which was a snorefest on paper but I tried to be engaging and include a whole host of ways to teach—I knew not everyone excelled with a textbook.

It had made the course popular, it went from being offered once a semester to 3 times this year because the waitlist spoke for itself. It was one of my proudest accomplishment—getting students motivated and interested. And because it was mostly first and second year students, they were still eager and not jaded by the uni system.

That was how I spent my evenings on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. Otherwise I worked for the city the same hours Harry worked his creative exec job at a major firm in the city. Sometimes we met up for lunch. It was the little things like that, making time to see each other in the middle of the day even though we woke up and fell asleep to each other, that made this relationship feel so secure.

It felt like coming home each time I caught sight of his face, and knew his smile was just for me.

My thoughts drift to our daughter. She would have celebrated her 18th birthday a few weeks ago. I always lit a birthday candle for her, this year Harry and I bought a cake and a symbolic drink for her. Our baby was old enough to drink.

“Do you think she takes after her parents?” Harry had asked.

“I think she grew up alright.” I always imagined her to have. “I hope she has no reason to drink herself silly.”

“Being 18 is reason enough.”

We talk about her often. She slips into conversation as easily as inhaling. It keeps her with us.

When I spot Harry’s car at the station I nearly weep.

“Your cheeks are so cold,” Harry says after a peck hello. He holds them both in his heated hands and plants exaggerated kisses on each cheek.

“Please sir,” I kiss his mouth and continue in what Harry called my Oliver Twist accent. “Take me to the chicken noodle soup. I hunger.”

Harry responds in the same accent (although it wasn’t as good as mine) and pretty soon I’m forgetting the 20 minute delay, the lecture with 100 technical difficulties, and anything in between.

After dinner and completing my 20 step night time routine I crawl into bed beside a cozy-looking Harry.

“Whatcha reading?” I peek at his book. I can’t believe he was the reading-before-bed type. In a way it was so different from the 17 year old guy I knew. It was also a reminder that even though we knew each other through and through, there were still so many habits and stories and quirks to discover.

“It’s a boring as hell sci-fi novel, don’t ask.”

“Then why are you reading it?”

“I accidentally joined a book club at work!?”

He tells me the story of how he told some people he enjoyed reading, and then being unable to say no when they bought this month’s book for him and presented it to him a week later.

“I bet you that’s their ponze scheme. It’s like an MLM, the latest recruit has to guilt the next joinee. You’ll be doing it soon.”

Harry laughs and holds his book out to me. “That actually brings me to my next question with this very generous gift, do you like reading?”

“Nope.” I push the book away. “I also don’t like book clubs.”

He tosses the book down lightly. “Damnit!”

We laugh. I cuddle into his side and lay my head on his chest as he finishes his chapter. His heart beat is steady, like the life he’s helped me create as we committed to each other. I listen to it as it lulls me to a calmer place.

“So how was work? How’s your students this semester?”

“Work’s good. Same old right now. Teaching was interesting. It’s the second week of classes so still seeing a lot of people come and go. You start to see the regulars by week 3.”

“Full class?”

“Almost,” I tell him. “A few empty seats. There was one girl who was obviously watching tv the whole time, another guy that fell asleep halfway, and this other kid kept looking at the door like he was physically trying to decide whether he would stay. Weird lot.”

“They won’t be there next week.”

“Nope.”

“You think she’s starting uni? I wonder what she’s decided to study.”

“Mmm, I always think it’s something creative like you.”

Harry squeezes his arm around me. “I think she’s a masochist like you.”

We talk more about her, about the upcoming weekend, and as sleep visits we drift away still intertwined like most nights.

***

“Does anyone know why?” I ask the lecture hall. Just like I predicted, most of the people I knew wouldn’t make it were gone. Now there were just under 60 students in total. What had surprised me was the guy who looked nervous the second week stayed. He’d been joined by two friends who only showed up in week 4. He was probably the designated note taker.

A girl to the left puts her hand up and I point to her. “The growing gap between upper and middle classes?”

“Yes.” I give her a reassuring smile. Until I started teaching, I forgot that most answers they gave were questions. “Anyone else?”

The girl beside nervous guy puts her hand up. “The ageing population, it skews the demographic from what was initially projected?”

“Exactly,” I try not to show favourites but that was beautifully said. Maybe she didn’t need to come to all the classes.

“That would also affect the workforce,” a guy sitting in the front pipes in. I smile, pleased that a discussion was forming.

A few others join in and I nod at each point. I loved this job.

After class is over I always got a few stragglers asking questions. The nervous guy comes up to me.

“Um professor,” he hitches his backpack and glances back at his friends. “For the assignment due next week, can groups of 3 be okay?”

I glance at his friends, it was supposed to be in pairs but what the hell. “Sure. But I’ll need extra stuffing in the assignment to make up for it.”

I say it with a joking tone but he’s so wound up that he takes me seriously.

“Of course. We’ll increase the citations and make sure to include more research-“

“Philippe,” one of the girls is suddenly a few feet away.

“Thank you.” He says, finally meeting my eye. I smile and he relaxes. I turn to his friends, to acknowledge them but they stare at me like I’d grown a second head. One of the other students asks her questions and I turn my attention away—weird.

***

“Mid-terms?” Harry asks. I’m reading a textbook while I stand over the simmering pot. We had accidentally ordered 4 times the tomatoes on our online order last week and with three still left I’d decided to batch make spaghetti sauce. It had been a long time since I made it from scratch.

“Kind of.” I push the book aside. “Someone in the department wants to update the textbooks and they left notes in the old one for what needs updating. They asked me to take a look.”

“That’s cool,” Harry walks over to me. He smelled like cologne and outside, the way he usually did right after he came home on chillier days. “That he wants your opinion?”

“She actually,” I poke him. “And it is! I can’t believe I get paid to lecture about one of my passions.”

“Economics,” Harry makes a face like he smelled something bad.

“Makes the world go round,” I smile sweetly.

“Remember when you liked things that were cool like Harry Potter and Coldplay-“

“I still like them! If I recall you’re the one who motivated me to do well in maths.”

“I did?” Harry looks off into the distance but his slow smirk is evident that he was remembering. He tilts my chin up and brushes my lips. “You’re right. So how about now? Would that still work?”

“Do you want me to stroke your ego right now?”

“Amongst other things,” he muses, his hands drop down to my hips and then lower, giving my bum a squeeze.

“Cut it out,” I scold him but it’s cancelled by the smile on my face. I shake my head and go back to the simmering pot.

“Is that tomato soup?” Harry’s suddenly distracted by the pot. We’d been having a lot of it this week because…well tomatoes.

“Nope, I’m making spaghetti sauce. From scratch.”

“Hey, didn’t you make that one time? When we were kids.”

“Hm,” I think back. It felt like so long ago but something niggles at me. “I think? I used to help my mum—it’s her recipe. Maybe you had dinner on a night we made it?”

“Yes. Dinner at your place, around Easter.”

I remember that Easter clearly but not for dinner. It was a night Harry and I had talked our lives all out.

“Aw. We were so young then.” I wrap my arms around Harry.

“I’m still young,” Harry says. “I’m in my prime.”

I pat his cheek. “Of course you are love.”

***

“Taylor I can’t really do this right now!” I tell my sister as she whines to me. No matter how old we got we were always somehow 17 and 12.

“C’mon just call mom! Tell her you met him and he’s really awesome.”

“I’m not lying to mom so you can invite your newest loser boyfriend to dinner. Anyway I can’t talk. I have to get to class!”

“I know.” She says weirdly. And I understand why when I walk into class and see her sitting in the front row. Ugh she knew I would try to blow her off!

My sister had somehow taken up the bad habit ever since her mid-20s of having a string of shitty boyfriends. We all blamed it on her longterm bloke breaking it off around her 26th. I don’t think she ever fully let herself heal from that.

After two separate guys were invited to two separate family dinners and both ended in mum or dad exploding over something, they were banned. This new guy, as she insists, was different. Mature. He deserved an invite.

She holds up 9 fingers and mouths, 9 months! That’s a long time!

I shake my head and start setting up my laptop.

“Hiya,” one of the students, Kim, walks up to me as I do so. “Sorry I was just wondering when we’re getting our assignments back? Will it be before midterms?”

Midterms were in 2 weeks for this class. The assignments were in my bag, marked and ready. I tell her and watch the relief spread through her.

I spend the next hour teaching, and before we break at the hour I announce I’d return assignments. As I call them out student walks down to me and pick them up, leaving with a smile or a frown.

“Philippe?” He had stuck to his word and his group had gone above and beyond. It was a beautiful paper, albeit overly-sourced. But I appreciated it.

“He’s not in,” one of his friends comes down to get it. She looks at me in that same way again, with just as much fear as curiosity. It’s odd.

“C’mon then,” I shake the paper I was holding out. “I don’t bite.”

“Oh sorry,” she grabs it from me in a rush I nearly get a papercut. She doesn’t even look at the grade, turning quickly away before halting, pivoting halfway, changing her mind, and running back up the steps to her seat. That group of kids were weird. Maybe they were on drugs.

I catch eyes with Taylor and she raises her brow. I shrug and continue handing out the papers.

I don’t expect the girl to come up to me after class. Her friend stays hovering behind, close to my sister who I know must be desperate to have sat here the whole lecture.

“Um ‘scuse me. Professor?”

“Yes?” She was the last person in the small line that had formed after class.

“I had a question about the assignment? You um, you said we missed the equations for our answers but they’re um-“ her hands are shaking as she flips the pages to the last page. “They’re on the bottom here.”

“Oh,” I did remember they were missing it but my pen marks were all over the back of it. “I must have missed that, bloody hell sorry about that!”

“Yeah um, do we get the extra points?”

“Of course but I-“ I glance back at Taylor. She’s talking to the friend. I had to get her out of here before she said something ridiculous. “I have office hours after my Monday class. I’ll have it remarked by then and you can pick it up?”

“Um, okay?”

I quickly shut my things down and grab my sister, getting her out as quick as possible.

“I’m a professional,” she reminds me. “Jeez. Anyway Y/n listen it’s the longest I’ve been in a relationship since, well y’know. 9 months! It’s different with this guy. He works like you! A cushy office job. He’s serious. Please!?”

I hadn’t seen Taylor since last month’s dinner when she had tried to convince me to get on board with this guy. She’d been pleading for a month. “Fine.”

“Oh I love you!” She squeezes my arm. “Text me when mom gives the okay.”

I sigh. I’d really got myself in the middle again.

I retell this to Harry when I get home.

“She’s persistent. But 9 months is a new record.”

“I know!” Harry knew all about her string of boys, I’d caught him up months ago. “Anyway I can’t believe she sat through the whole lecture.”

“Maybe this is the guy. The One.”

“You don’t believe in that do you?”

“Yeah?” He squints at me. “Of course I do?”

“So I’m The One?”

“Baby do I even need to say yes? I knew it as soon as I saw you when we were 14. You confirmed it when you kissed me on the roof that day.”

“I can’t believe I did that. I had my first drink that day by the way so I might’ve been drunk.”

“You were not drunk when you kissed me,” Harry points his fork at me.

“Look at you getting all worked up,” I tease.

“I’ll get you all worked up,” he mutters into his plate. I grin as I stretch my leg out under the table and run it up his leg. He grips my ankle when it gets too high and the look he gives me across the table sends my heart racing.

“Oops,” I drop my foot and go back to eating.

We put on a movie after, something we can zone out to. It doesn’t take Harry long to get bored and nuzzle into me, and it doesn’t take much longer after that before the movie is just for show and we’re tangled in our sheets.

There were 17 years of experience Harry showed up with now, and it was another one of those things that made catching up on lost time all the better.

***

In the first half hour of my office hours, the girl walks in. I should remember her name but I just associated her group with Philippe. I was surprised he wasn’t here actually. He seemed to be their spokesperson.

“Hi come in!” I wave her into the tiny cubicle-like room I borrowed for a few hours every Monday. “I’ve got your assignment here all done.”

“Thank you,” she hovers over my desk and I hand it over. Her fingers fidget with the strings of her hoodie and I seriously consider the drug angle. Or maybe her and her friends had serious anxiety issues. I didn’t miss that part about being a teen.

“You wanna flip through one more time? I try not to make mistakes twice but…”

She sits down tentatively and buries her head in the paper as she flips through.

“It’s alright,” she says. Her expression is so serious it nearly makes me laugh. She had pretty hair—blunt cut bangs that I remember rocking in my early 20s, but on her they hide the expression in her eyebrows. Maybe that’s why she always looked so sullen. Her lips are painted a pretty mauve colour and it complimented her green eyes.

“I really um…your class is really interesting.”

Kids saying that was like injecting pure joy right into my veins.

“I’m so glad you’re enjoying it,” I smile at her. But it still doesn’t crack a smile on her end. “It’s dense material but that’s nice to hear.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know if I was gonna keep the class.” It’s subtle but she inches back in the seat. The more she talks the more she relaxes back. “But I heard it was worth taking. And people were right.”

“Are you in your first or second year?” I ask.

“First,” she tucks her hair behind her ear. It’s covered in piercings.

“How are you liking uni so far?”

She meets my eyes for a second before they shift away. “Yeah it’s nice? I’ve never lived away from home but I have some friends here that I’ve known since before so it helps. It’s really different, less structure but I like the freedom.”

Wow, she really spoke a lot more when she was comfortable. But I find it endearing.

“That’s really nice. It’s good to have a support system, especially with such big change.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. Her eyes dart around the desk as she goes silent. I wait for her to get up and go but a minute passes and the room starts to feel even smaller.

I could ask her if she needed anything else, or maybe continue the conversation? Did she want me to ask about her? No, that would be weird.

“So um, was that your sister in class last week?”

Okay, didn’t see that coming.

“It was! My baby sister, although she’s not really a baby. Did she tell your friend that?”

She nods again. “She was talking to her.”

“You have any siblings?”

“An older sister yeah.”

“So you get it,” I say. “You love them, they get under your skin, you’d do anything for them, and the cycle continues.”

For the first time she smiles and my breath catches. For a moment…no. No, I was imagining things.

“Yeah. My sister and I were close growing up, but she’s the one person that really knows how to get under my skin. I swear she does it on purpose sometimes.”

“Probably,” I want to say something funny again. I just want to see her smile.

Back off, my inner voice says. Don’t do this again.

Some years back, when I was still in the throes of alcohol, I had followed a girl at the mall for nearly an hour. She had looked so much like my sister but with brown curly hair. I could have sworn it was her—my daughter. But after an hour of drunk stalking she had met up with her mum, a direct clone of her.

I couldn’t be obsessive again. Nobody knew about that phase. Not even Harry.

“D’you have any kids?” She asks. I don’t expect the question and it throws me off what with the thoughts looping in my head. She watches me, waiting for an answer.

“Um,” I usually answered no. To anyone who had asked in the last 18 years. But for some reason I nod today. “Yeah. One.”

I imagine it, I must have. Her face draws in for a second before she looks down. “Does she ever come to your lectures?”

“Oh no,” I feel the prick of tears and try to blink them away without being too obvious. “I’m not sure she’d find them interesting.”

“Oh.” She finally stands. “Maybe when she’s older…but I’ll see you on Thursday I guess?”

“Yeah,” I watch her go and realize she’d forgotten something. “Don’t forget your paper hon!”

She stiffens by the door before coming to get it.

“Sorry, it probably makes me a bad prof but there were two female names on the paper. Which one’s yours?”

“Bridget,” her voice cracks.

“Bridget,” I try to match the name to her face. It fit. “That’s lovely.”

She scurries out and I hear someone say “well!?” Outside followed by a “shh!”

I shake my head and try to focus back on my work, my heart racing an unusual amount.

***

It takes a couple days but I confess to Harry. He’d decided to meet up with me after class on Wednesday to eat out. We didn’t go far from the uni, a pub a few roads down. I actually spotted a couple former students there and they’d waved at me warmly.

“You’re not crazy,” Harry holds my hand on the table. “A few years ago I realized the volunteer interns we took on from the nearby school? They were the same age as her, teens? And I used to check up on them all the time, make sure they were feeling comfortable, until one of the guys on the team told me to quit being so weird and find someone my own age. I don’t know if it came across that way but…I got lost in that.”

“Oh Harry,” I squeeze his hand. “I didn’t know that.”

“I’ve never told anyone.”

“Me too,” I pop another chip into my mouth. “But really I’d kind of pushed those memories out of my head until the other day. I can’t explain it, when she smiled it just felt like I knew her.”

“Yeah. Maybe she just looks like Taylor?”

We finish dinner while Harry tells me about a story about some friends of his I knew. We reminisce about our old friends as we wrap up and head out into the brisk November air.

We’re near the station when I gasp and clutch Harry’s arm. Standing outside one of the nearby pubs, smoking with her friends, was Bridget.

“Harry! That’s her!”

“What? Who?” He’s so oblivious as he whips his head around.

“Hushhh!” I nod towards the northwest side. His eyes scan the group. “Red beanie. We have to walk past just look at her okay? Tell me if you see it.”

Harry laughs to himself, “This feels like we’re in high school walking past a crush.”

“Is that how you walked past me?” I tease.

“I did.” He looks at me in that way that still gives me butterflies. It never got old.

“Stop making me want to jump your bones out here. I have a reputation to uphold!”

“Hey I’ll still have a job to support us,” he whispers as we near closer to the group. “Feel free to do whatever you feel.”

“You’re a bad influence.” I whisper back. By now we’re a few feet away and I sense Harry slow down beside me.

Bridget’s nodding to whatever her friend is saying. Philippe is waving his drink around as he responds. We almost pass by unnoticed when someone completely different calls my name.

“Hey professor! Can we buy you a drink?”

I turn and spot a group of students I taught last semester. They were all friends, always battling out their wits during group discussions. It made my class lively, even distracting at times. But I tried going with the flow of whatever group of students I got.

“Hey kids!” I say. Then I have no choice but to acknowledge Bridget and her friends. “And more kids! Is this the new spot to be at?”

I sounded so lame but shite! We weren’t supposed to get caught.

“It’s always been popular,” one of my old students says. “Can we pick your brain? Buy you a drink? We can buy one for your friend too.”

“I uh,” I glance at Harry but he’s frozen solid. I look to what he’s looking at and it’s Bridget. They’re locked in some silent conversation and her friends eye each other. “Harry?”

“Huh?” He focuses on me, flushed and just as confused as I had looked on Monday.

“We’ve gotta get him home,” I pat Harry’s arm. “Our alcohol metabolizes differently at our age.”

“You’re not that old,” Bridget says. She seems to be surprised she said it at all and her eyes widen. “I just mean you look younger than my parents.”

“We’ll take that as a compliment.” I smile up at Harry who still looks a little lost.

“Miss aren’t you going to introduce your male friend?” One of my old student goads.

“Don’t assume,” the other chides.

“Aren’t you a nosy lot after a few drinks.” I missed dishing it back in class with them.

“Oops!” They laugh.

“Anyway. This is Harry.”

“You can call me Mr. Professor,” Harry jokes and it’s a crowd pleaser. God they were drunk. Harry leans into me, “I can see why you like teaching. They’re an ego-booster.”

“Not in a 6pm lecture on a Thursday night.” I whisper back. He hides his laugh.

“Are you guys heading home?” Now it’s Philippe. I’m surprised he was getting involved in the conversation. He was usually the quiet nervous type.

“We are. Need a good night’s rest so I’m not falling asleep in your lecture tomorrow.”

“We wouldn’t mind,” Philippe goes for joker but his face flushes. It’s cute.

“Philippe you take way too many notes during class for me to believe that.”

His two friends, Bridget and the other girl, look at each other wide-eyed before losing it. And I watch Bridget’s face transform again and I get the same feeling. I look up at Harry and he’s transfixed.

I tug his sleeve and he looks at me, swallowing like he was parched.

“Weird right?”

“Yeah,” he whispers but his mouth turns down ever so slightly.

The girls are too busy cajoling Philippe to say goodbye to so we make our exit quietly. We don’t talk much on the train ride home but Harry simple holds his hand out on my thigh, palm up, and I lock my fingers into his. Even when we didn’t have words, we never stopped staying in touch.

***

It’s exam and holiday season before I know it.

I was actually looking forward to Christmas this year. It was the first that Harry was going to join with my family. Taylor’s bloke was also showing. He had been a hit with my parents and even I could admit he was the better of all the guys she’s every brought over.

It’s the last 30 minutes of the last exam I was facilitating this year. I announce the time left to the group. There were only about 15 kids left.

Bridget is one of them. I watch her tuck her hair behind her ear and bite her lip. She’d been pretty quiet the remainder of the semester, and I tried not to let my eyes wander to her too much.

After that night, bumping into her with Harry, we hadn’t spoken much about it. The hope that was initially so buoyant turned crushing as we faced the reality that the odds were slim to none. That our wishes were just pennies tossed in a fountain, sinking to the bottom of the pool.

Dreary winter days pass by and Harry and I try to keep the seasonal depression away with regular outdoor dates, cozy nights in bed, and seeing friends as often as we could.

On Christmas we go to my parents’. It’s a loud affair as my grandparents and a few cousins join us. After dinner I go up to my childhood bedroom, it’s now a guest room but some of my things still lay around. I open the window, it was cold so I drag a blanket out and sit outside. The street is quiet, I see families in a few open windows and I watch the festivities through them. I feel a mix of nostalgia and an ache that goes even beyond that, like I was missing something.

“Y/n?” Of course Harry would find me even though I’d left the door closed and the window tilted.

“Here,” I say.

“Ah,” he struggles to hoist himself out. “Some things never change.”

“You need help?” I watch him climb on all fours.

“I’m steady,” he grins as he crawls to me. I open the blanket and he gets in.

We sit in silence for a bit.

“It was getting really loud downstairs wasn’t it?” I ask.

“I think your grandma’s in love with Taylor’s guy.” Harry says so bluntly that I burst out laughing. He joins in.

“I feel like old people get to flirt with whoever they want because it’s always harmless.”

“Maybe that’s the case with older women,” Harry grimaces. “Can’t say the same thing about old men now can we?”

“Jesus!” I laugh and then laugh even harder when Harry says: “it is his day.”

By the time I wipe my tears Harry’s gazing down at me.

“Sorry,” I lean my head against his shoulder. “You have to stop being so funny.”

“Nah,” he kisses my head. “Have I never told you how much I like your laugh?”

He had. On a night many years ago on a roof like this.

I go to remind him but he’s pulling away. I watch as he shifts to face my slowly. He pulls something out from behind him and my brain only connects the dots as he starts talking.

“Y/N, this is something I wish I could have done 18 years ago but only feels incredibly right to do now. Especially out here.”

“Harry,” I gasp. When did he get the ring? When had he planned this?

“We somehow found our way back to each other again y/n, and you know I love you more than ever before.” He clears his throat as it clouds with emotion. “Some 18 years ago I told you I knew you, because the first time I ever laid eyes on you my heart knew. You were something special. And I never ever want to spend another moment apart again. So Y/N Y/L/N, will you do me the honour and finally be mine? Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” If I wasn’t sitting on a roof I would launch myself at Harry. I settle for pulling his face down to mine and kissing it. “I’ve always been yours Harry. But yes, of course yes!”

He slides the ring on and it fits perfectly.

It was perfect.

When we go back down my mum knows right away, and if it was loud before it’s absolute chaos as everyone descends on me and demands to know how he proposed and how the ring looks.

“On the roof? When there’s a perfectly pretty tree here?” My grandma asks. Harry and I exchange a look then, trying not to laugh all over again.

We ring in the New Year with friends, as fiancés. I can hardly believe it. Apparently most of our friends knew Harry was going to propose and they all toast to us and our happiness.

Somewhere in mid-January, I drop by my parents’ house to drop off some groceries. That’s when my dad hands me a letter that had been mailed home.

“It came for you, I dunno who thinks you still live here but it looks handwritten.”

I take it from my dad as I say one last goodbye. I barely make it to the tube with wobbly legs. Because somewhere inside I know.

It’s a long and agonizing 2 hours that I wait for Harry to come home. He finds me sitting in the dark; the sun had set while I waited, and I’d been too busy staring at the feminine scrawl on the front of the letter to turn on the lights.

“Hello-y/n, what are you doing in the dark?”

Harry drops his things where they are when I look at him. “Y/n are you alright? Say something.”

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I just push the letter forward.

He walks towards it. It’s like he hits a brick wall when he puts the pieces together, he halts a foot away.

“What is that?”

“Is was…” I try to swallow so my voice doesn’t sound so hoarse. “My dad gave it to me. It was sent to the house.”

“Is it…”

“I was waiting for you.”

Suddenly he’s in motion. He puffs his cheeks out and lets out a noisy sigh. Then he paces the floor one, two, three, four times before standing in front of the couch.

“We should read it.” I say.

“Yeah,” he deflates into the couch. I want to join him but it feels like my arse has been glued to the chair.

I inch it towards me and Harry nods. He wanted me to read it.

My mouth is parched. I can barely make out any sounds as I open it up. It’s three pages folded in two, the paper itself isn’t anything very special, it’s typed up so it’s literally just ink on paper. And yet it’s worth a whole goldmine.

“Y/n and Harry,” I read before my voice breaks and I bury my face in my hands. Our baby girl had written to us. She had reached out.

“C’mon love,” Harry’s suddenly beside me and his hand squeezes my neck. The touch gives me enough strength to stand with him. He sets me down where he just sat and leaves again, returning with water and the letter.

“Can you read it?” I ask.

He settles in beside me, we touch along every edge of us. The letter sits in between us like our love, our hurting—it’s where it belongs. He begins to read in his soothing voice.

“Y/n and Harry,

I hope it’s okay I’m calling you that. I don’t know if it’s proper but ever since I found out about you two last year that’s what I’ve been calling you.”

Harry lets out a shaky breath and I intertwine my arm through his. He kisses my temple and continues.

“When I turned 15, I asked my mum about you. I started to wonder where I came from. I knew I was adopted for as long as I could remember but it didn’t mean much to me for a long time—I had a mother, a father, and a sister. I had a family so why did I need to know where I came from?

But over the last few years it’s been like an itch I couldn’t get to. See when I was 15, what set it off is that my sister decided to look into her birth parents. They were separated, her father lived in Tokyo and her mother lived in Wales. It took her a year to convince our parents to go to Wales. I went with and I found myself in the home of a woman who looked just like the girl I grew up with. The whole time it ate away at me. I wanted this ending too.

I asked my mum and dad when I turned 15 but they were weird and evasive. I turned my skills to the internet but I didn’t really know where to start.

I felt the missing part more and more as I turned 16. I used to fall asleep thinking about you two, if you were alive, what you looked like, where you were, what you did.

I love my parents. They’re wonderful and amazing, they are supportive and never made us feel like we were anything but theirs. But I wanted to know my background.

On my 17th birthday my parents gave me a letter like the one I write today.” Harry stops reading and takes in a deep shuddering breath. “She got the letter.”

His shoulder shake and he pinches the bridge of his nose. I clench my teeth so I wouldn’t cry too. I wanted to finish this letter. I wrap my arms around him and hold him.

This was unbelievable, what we’d dreamed of. Her words, in our hands.

“Here.” I take the letter from him and continue. “Let me read it.”

Harry stays hunched over, so with my hand on his back I continue, “in it you told me how much you loved me. How much you loved each other, your families, where I came from. And Why you had to give me up. For a better life. I saw the picture of you, and I felt broken and complete at the same time. I realized I was the same age as you in the photo, I had to meet you but I was terrified. And I didn’t know how.

I spent a year agonizing and looking through every google page I could find about you. I learned a lot! But I needed to meet you.

I don’t know how to do this. I’ve made decisions that may not have been the best but I’ve left my number and a picture of me when I was 5 in the envelope.

I hope you call.”

With shaking hands I turn to the third page that has one of those polaroids taped to it and a phone number in the same handwriting as the envelope.

“She’s beautiful,” Harry says while tears continue streaming down his face. I can’t even hide mine anymore.

She was beautiful indeed. She had his eyes, and her curly locks in a deep brown frame her chubby face. She had my nose, she looked a little like my sister as a baby. A scatter of freckles over her cheeks confirm it. She was ours. Our baby had reached out. We knew what she looked like.

“We need to call her,” I say. “We need to meet.”

“Yeah,” Harry wipes his face. “We…we need to do this carefully. It’s delicate right?”

I wanted to call her right now but what would I do but cry into the phone? No, I had to wrap my head around this. Harry was right. “Right.”

“She’s out there,” Harry turns to me. “She wants to know us. Y/n she wants to meet us! She saw the picture I-“

“I can’t believe it,” I whisper. “Our daughter wants to—did she leave her name?”

We open the letter and flip over every piece of it but her name is nowhere.

“Maybe she didn’t want us looking her up?” Harry offers.

“Maybe she has an awful digital footprint.”

Something about it makes us laugh and we can’t stop. But pretty soon it shifts back into tears and we’re left holding each other on the couch, tender and content and anxious.

Our daughter had made contact. Would she like us? Would she be mad at us? What did this mean for us?

The thoughts continue to spiral the rest of the evening. We don’t make much of an effort, we reread the letter and try to get dinner in us. We face each other as we try to fall asleep, whispering questions into the darkness. The darkness doesn’t answer, it grows heavier as does the night, and we fall asleep for the first time in our lives knowing the weight of a decision so long ago was a tiny bit lighter.

***

It’s a few days later. All I’d been thinking about was the letter, when I woke up, at work, during my commute, during breaks, when I went to bed.

It sits on our dining table, we glance at it as we pass by. It becomes part of the decor, three pieces of paper and an envelope. It’s so much weightier than that.

I come home from my lecture on Wednesday, a slight buzz of anxiety humming in the background. It wasn’t unusual for Harry and I to get busy at work and not talk the whole day but today Harry had been radio silent. He hadn’t answered my texts or phone calls in a very un-Harry way.

I walk in to Harry sitting on the couch in the dark, staring at the coffee table. On it sits the letter.

“Hey,” I don’t even take off my jacket. I slide next to him. “Is everything alright?”

“Hey,” he whispers. He stays frozen sitting forward, elbows on his knees, head cradled in his hand.

I wait for him to speak, to say something about what was going on. I rub my hand over his back and he glances up. I tip forward until our foreheads touch. “What’s going on in that brain of yours? Let me help you.”

“It’s a lot,” he whispers. It tears me in two.

“Hey,” I remind him. “Just one day at a time. Let’s just talk about today.”

“I want to call her so bad,” he leans away and buries his head in his hands. I wanted to call her too, I’d been waiting for Harry to give the cue since I knew I could be rash and impulsive about something like this. But something was going on with him.

“We will.”

“We gave her up. What if she hates us?”

“She wouldn’t have written us that beautiful letter, or sent a photo, or left her number if she did.”

Harry sniffles and then asks what he really wanted to, “what if she hates me.”

“Harry look at me,” He unfolds slowly and I make sure he’s looking at me. “You’re her father, you’ve carried her with you for the last 18 years. You love her. She wants to know you. Why would she hate you?”

“I’ve fucked up so much!”

“You’re not your mistakes.” I remind him. I get teary eyed as I feel the echoes of his insecurities. I’ve thought about it too: what if I didn’t meet her expectations? “She’s not going to see you and see every good and bad decisions you’ve ever made. She’s just going to see her father—her biological father, and see where she got her eyes from and her hair from and every other quirk she has.”

“You’re not worried?” He asks, looking at me with grief.

“Of course I am,” I confess, tears leaking out of my eyes damnit. “I’m so fucking worried. But my curiosity overtakes that, my love for her is what I’m focusing on.”

“I love her,” he says.

“That’s all that matters.” I cup his face and press a reassuring kiss to his lips. “That’s all she’ll care about.”

Harry untangles himself from me and my heart sinks. He paces the length of our living room a few times, running his hand through his hair.

“We really should talk about the letter,” he says.

“Yeah. I know. I want to call. Badly.”

He pauses. It’s like all the anxious energy drains out of him at once. He sits back down beside me.

“What do we do?” I ask

“How about Saturday? She’s probably going to be home then right? No school—if she’s in school.”

Two days. Two more days of agonizing over the letter.

At this point the letter is memorized, seared into my brain like I had an exam on it. I want to know the person behind it.

When we wake on Saturday it’s a cloudy day. I don’t take it as a bad omen.

We sit with our phones out after breakfast, just staring at everything before us.

“You should do the talking,” I tell Harry. “I’m too nervous.”

“I think you should.” Harry says. “She sent the letter to you.”

“Only because that’s the address my mum gave…gave her mum.”

It hits me again in another wave I try not to drown in. She was eighteen, she’d lived a whole life with a whole family. There was everything of her we’d missed out on.

“Please Harry?” I was already overwhelmed with the realization. I just couldn’t.

He watches me, must hear the desperation in my voice, and slowly pulls his phone forward.

It rings, and rings a few more times. When it goes to voicemail he turns it off.

“I didn’t think that was an option,” Harry says and we laugh. It feels good.

“It’s only 10 maybe she’s asleep. Try one more time?”

He pulls my phone and tries again but it still goes to voicemail.

We sit there, unsure of what to do. We agree to try again later, in the afternoon.

But around half past 12, while Harry’s working in our spare room and I’m scrolling through my phone, it rings. I don’t think much of it and pick it up automatically.

“Hello?” It’s silent on the other end. “Hello?”

I wait, but as I do it dawns on me. Who called me?

I check my phone screen and swipe through as I say hello again. I match the number. It was her.

I run to Harry but the phone is still silent. I wave the paper with the number saying hello again.

“Is this…well you never gave us your name. But we got your letter. We’re so gl-“

The line goes dead and so does my heart.

“You called her again?” Harry whispers, his brows furrowing as he stares at the phone.

“She called.” I think about calling her back but that was pushy. She was backing out of this.

All of a sudden I feel myself giving out. I catch myself against the wall and slide down.

“She’s backing out. It must be…too much for her.”

Harry stares at a spot on the ground, a million thoughts flickering through. Finally it settles on acceptance. He sighs.

“We can’t force her to talk to us,” he says softly what I already know. But his words are like a saw to my resolve and I just start crying. He gathers me in his arms but the grief feels endless. It felt like she was slipping away again; I’d lost so much and I lost her again. She had been so close. How could she do this? Why did she reach out if she wasn’t ready?

Questions without answers. More of them piled on top of the lifetime of questions I’d built for her.

I know Harry feels the weight of them too. We carry them together. That’s the only reason I hadn’t broken yet.

But I come close to it that day. We don’t hear back from her. And we don’t try to call her back. It didn’t feel right.

It killed me she was so close. And something changes inside.

For weeks I feel like I’m on autopilot. It’s like my first semester of uni all over again.

Harry tries his best to keep me together but he struggles too. It makes me feel worse I was taking the bigger hit, not being there for him as much as I wanted. But life feels like a a million blankets covering me.

I try to keep my usual momentum for my classes, but I’m always exhausted after. It pulls me deeper into my sadness, something I loved made me so tried.

It’s a Thursday at the end of the semester and I’m marking exams during my study hours when there’s a light knock on the door.

I’m surprised to see an old student.

“Bridget,” I wave her in. “Come in, what can I do you for?”

“Hi professor-“

“Call me y/n, I’m not teaching you anymore am I?”

“No,” she says with a stiff smile. The last time I saw her was in February, I’d spotted her with Philippe and a few other friends at a local coffee shop. She had been explaining something to one of her friends from a textbook.

Now her hair was short and more pronounced with waves. I wonder if she styled it, her longer hair had been pin straight.

“I had a question?”

You already asked it, I want to joke. But she was usually wound up so I knew it wouldn’t land well.

“What’s that?”

“Um, well.” She perches on the chair and I wait patiently for her to continue. “Are you taking any applications for TA next year?”

I wasn’t expecting that. She always found a way to take me by surprise. I stare at her for a few seconds, trying to remember what year she was in.

“Aren’t you in first year? If I do TAs they’re usually 3rd or above.”

“I know,” she tucks her hair behind her ear. “But seeing that one of my majors is in econ and my gpa is really high, and I did well in your class, I wondered if you would consider me?”

I hadn’t done TAs since my first year of teaching. I found I liked the work because it got me more familiar with the class.

“What’s your other major?” She had said one of them was econ.

“Sociology, I’m pre-law.”

Ambitious. “Why TA for my class?”

She balks as she meets my gaze. There’s something that flits through her face that I can’t quite read before she drops eye contact.

“Um, I really enjoyed it. I did really well. I think you’re super smart and would learn a lot by TA-ing for you.”

“I don’t give special lessons to my TA,” I let her know. “You’d typically attend some of the classes, mark assignments, and maybe teach exam tutorials, and have office hours of your own for students.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“Why should I pick you?”

She pushes her shoulders back, “I’m responsible, dependable, I submit all my assignments on time and have experience teaching.”

“Teaching?”

“I used to tutor when I was in high school. I didn’t really get an allowance so I found a way to support my hobbies.”

“What are your hobbies?”

She blushes a little, was she still nervous? “I love reading, books are expensive.”

I nod. For Harry’s birthday I’d told him he could get any books from Waterstones and it had been over £100 for 3 only.

“I also enjoy cooking. And um, it’s been a while but my friends and I sometimes go to like. Do you know comic con?”

“Yes,” I’d seen things online.

“Yeah we liked to dress up for that sort of thing. We used to make our own outfits and usually the cost varies depending on what you’re making and how realistic you want it and…” she trails off as I smile. She was really enthusiastic about it. I couldn’t help it.

“Tell you what. Leave your number with me and I’ll think about it. I haven’t had a TA for the last few semesters but I am going to take this into consideration.”

“Really?!”

I laugh. “Yes. Really.”

“Um…” she starts to fidget again. “Can I leave my email? I’m getting a new phone soon so I-“

“Sure. Anywhere I can reach you.”

I expect her to get out a pen but she says it verbally and I type it out.

“Um, are you alright?” She asks out of the blue after I type in the last letter.

“Alright?” I raise my brow.

“I mean, you seem…I just heard, um.” She tries to backtrack but I ask her again and she spills. “Some people just said your last few classes seem scattered. Not that people don’t like you. I just…that’s what they were saying. And I don’t know if having a TA would help? And I just wanted to ask if you’re okay sorry I shouldn’t…it’s none of my business.”

God, this girl was so awkward. But she was sweet for caring, I think. “You’re not applying for the role because you feel bad that I seem…scattered right?”

She blushes. “Sorry. I think I said too much.”

I want to laugh but it strikes me that my students had noticed. I’d let it affect their learning. It didn’t feel very good.

“Life’s hitting me hard recently,” I tell her simply. “But I’m alright. Thank you for reaching out Bridget.”

As I finish up the semester I think about her. It wouldn’t hurt to have her TA for one of my lectures, see how she does. I didn’t care for TAs as a lecturer but something about her is compelling and I find myself emailing her in the middle of the night in June. She responds back a few minutes later,

Thank you!!! You’re the best. I’ll do whatever you need just tell me I can do anythingggh

Sent from iphone.

I laugh to myself as I put my phone away and go back to bed. My guesses were she was drunk at a party.

Harry’s asleep beside me and I reach out to touch his back but think better of it. He’d been busy at work with a project nearing its deadline and I didn’t want to accidentally wake him.

I turn around and try to drift off, thinking about my daughter, about how Harry and I hadn’t really talked much in the last two weeks, about my teaching, and my new TA.

Age 38:

It’s a depressing summer. The air of dashed hopes still hangs around Harry and I. It’s less thunder clouds and more of a fog.

One weekend morning, it’s one of those mornings that start off heavy. I can’t get out of bed, but I hear Harry pattering about doing his weekend morning thing. I hear the dishwasher turn on, and soon after he walks in with our laundry folded in a basket. I feel awful as I normally do, but not awful enough to get up and do anything about it. I think I’d have to feel less awful, to do that.

I don’t expect him to get in beside me once he’s finished putting everything away. He smells like laundry and shampoo, I must smell like rot and decay.

“Y/n,” he says gingerly. I just look at him in response. I felt too heavy to even reply. He sits up and calls my name again.

“Mm,” I say.

He sighs. Despite months of this Harry’s been nothing but understanding but this morning seems different.

Suddenly I’m being pulled up by my shoulders and I find myself sitting up in bed.

“Y/N,” Harry says again. I fold my arms as the duvet slips down and the cool air raises goosebumps. “I love you, which is why it’s so hard seeing you like this. You have to get on, my love. We have to move forward. It’s been months.”

All I could remember after our daughter hung the phone up on us was when I almost got to hold her. Right after she was born, I almost got to hold her but they took her away. And that piece of me that followed after her was nearly returned. It was that almost that was a death blow.

“It’s hard,” I feel myself tear up. It was hard not to these days.

“I know baby,” Harry scoops me into him. “I know. It’s hard for me too but we have to get better. We have to live our lives. She’ll come back to us, I just know it. She’s scared, we’re hopeful. Fear’s gonna keep her away. Hope keeps us patient.”

I cry into his shirt and he rocks me.

“I’m sorry,” I say into his shirt.

“It’s alright,” he grips the back of my neck.

So for Harry, for us, I try to get back to myself. I start to pick up my outdoor hobbies, I try to keep conversations going with Harry, I reintroduce my multi-step night routine. I look forward and re-light the candle of hope, even though I ache to blow it out before it can burn down to its wick.

My wounds inside stay tender.

We had booked our wedding for November and as the days approach we find ourselves with one thing on our mind.

Harry and I finally talk about it.

“I always thought she’d be there at the wedding once she reached out.”

We’re sat in an outdoor space near King’s Cross, coffees in hand as we people watch. We’d just come back from a cake tasting and neither of us felt like going home with such a glorious August day. Kids splash in the water sprinklers and couples sit around arm in arm. I touch shoulders with Harry unconsciously.

“Me too. I think that’s what’s kept me from mentally committing to the fact that the date is coming closer.”

“It can’t be forever,” Harry says. “She reached out. She just needs time. She’ll call again one day and we’ll meet her.”

“I know.” I lean my head on his shoulder. This was a realization I’d also been slowly digesting. I’d waited 18 years, what was a few more months, another year? Her baby picture lived on our fridge, at least we were one step closer.

And the love, I had to remind myself in these moments. Hold onto the love.

***

“I can’t stay for this class,” Bridget tells me. It’s the second week of classes and there were still 10 minutes until it officially started.

“Is everything alright?”

“Not really,” that’s when I notice her nose is red and her eyes are too. “My um, my parents had to put my dog down. She…she wasn’t feeling well yesterday and the-they found cancer? And she was in a lot of pain but she never showed it? And-“

I put my hand on Briget’s shoulder and lead her to the exit. There was no reason for the whole class to see this.

“Sorry. I’m-“

“Don’t apologize.” I rub her shoulder. “I understand. Take the time you need I have this covered.”

True to her word, Bridget had been a loyal TA over the summer. I considered it a trial run not expecting much but she had shown up, aced marking, and I’d gotten good feedback from the students at the end of the semester.

I’d also taken to her. She’d join me during my 2 hours every Monday and when no students would come she would loosen up. She’d told me all about the dog she grew up with, she showed me costumes her friends and her made, I’d asked her about the books she was reading and the classes she was taking. It was like having a younger sister again, except I was mature enough to appreciate her.

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” Bridget says and this statements seems to be the breaking point. She curls in on herself, shoulders shaking. I don’t even think, I just pull her into me like I would for Harry, for Taylor, for any of my friends.

“You have a lifetime of memories with her,” I hold her. At first she stiffens up and I almost let her go but she only breaks down further and wraps her arms around me. Tighter than I expected.

“I wish I said goodbye,” she says into my shoulder.

“I know hon,” I squeeze her against me, something maternal washing over me. “I know.”

After a minute or so she regains her composure, wiping her face with her sleeve. When she looks at me she looks so much younger, her face grief-stricken and regretful.

“I’m sorry-“

“Don’t be.”

She seems to want to say something more but whatever it is, she swallows it and takes a step away.

I don’t see her for two weeks and I miss her.

When she walks into the lecture the first week of October I try not to rush her but I’m overjoyed seeing her face. It had become so familiar to me.

She smiles shyly when she walks up to me and I pull her into a hug. This time she doesn’t stiffen.

“How are you?” I whisper. Students were still trickling in so I use the time to catch up.

“Okay. Better than that day I cried all over you sorry again. I went home last week, thanks for letting me take it off.”

“Of course. You forget I’ve been doing this without a TA before you. I can hold down the fort.”

She cracks a smile, her dimple making a rare appearance.

“By the way, week 10’s lecture is supposed to be cancelled.” I tell her later during office hours. “But I wondered if you wanted to hold a tutorial that week for some of the material?”

“Really?” A light comes on in her eye. It’s fiery and bright with excitement.

“Yeah! You know the material! I’ll leave you with slides and you can go about teaching them.”

“I’d love to!” She grips her laptop close to her. “Wait why is it cancelled?”

“I’m getting married that week!”

The light dims. Or maybe I imagine it.

“Oh! I thought you were married already?”

“No,” I’d referred to Harry as my partner any time he was brought up. “We’re getting married in November. You’ve met him actually, kind of, that night we ran into you and some students at the pub. Last year?”

“Oh yeah I remember,” she says but her eyes are somewhere else. “So you’re getting married?”

“Yes Bridget,” I laugh. “Married. Tying the knot. You alright?”

“Yeah,” she blinks and she’s back. “You never mentioned the wedding. Do you have a dress?”

“Yeah! Just finalized the tailoring last week. Most things are ready, we’re just finalizing the rings!”

“Cool!” She fidgets with the hem of her shirt. “Is it in London?”

“Yeah, it’s not too big but we didn’t want people travelling too far. This is where Harry and I were born and raised so this is where we want to marry too.”

“Wow,” she seems lost in thought and she stays pretty quiet the rest of the time. I didn’t realize my news was that surprising.

Maybe I still didn’t have Bridget completely figured out.

***

“Harry I can’t pick them up! I need to get home and then head back out to class!”

“Y/n it’s on your way home!”

“Not really! It’s a 30 minute detour. Why can’t you do it?”

“Because you can still get to him right before he closes. I won’t be done here until after he closes. I’m sorry love!”

“Agh and why can’t he do tomorrow?”

“He’s off until Saturday! We need it today.”

It’s the Wednesday before we marry and our rings are still at the jeweller’s. He’d finished them last weekend but we’d been so busy with other things we hadn’t had time to pick it up. And now it was either today and be late for class, or the day of the wedding.

I had gotten delayed at work and missed Harry’s texts explaining the situation. I’d only responded while on the tube, but going out of my way for 30 minutes meant I’d be 30 minutes late to get back to class. And since I’d left marked assignments at home that the kids needed for next week’s tutorial, I had no choice but to head back.

The idea hits me at once.

I hang up on Harry and ring Bridget. She picks up right away.

“Bridget, I’m on a crazy tight schedule. I’m going to be late to class by half hour at least.”

“Oh no. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah it’s just wedding thing but can you do something crazy? And feel free to say no okay?”

“Okay?”

I explain to her that if she rode to my flat, Harry would be there by then and she could pick up marked assignment. She can delay class by taking them up.

She’s silent but eventually I get a yes. “Okay. Can you text me your address?”

“Yes! Yes. Thank you Bridget. I owe you your trip fare and lunch or something. I’ll text you now, leave as soon as you can!”

I call Harry again and confirm he’d be home by the time she arrived. Everything works out.

I get the rings, and have to head home so Harry can try his on. The jeweller was expecting both of us, and let me know he couldn’t do adjustments if I didn’t text him by today. Just my luck!

When I get to the flat I tell Harry not to read his inscription but to try it on and thankfully it fits.

“Hey,” Harry calls out as I try to rush back out the door.

“What?” I was out of breath and frantic.

“Slow down,” he pulls me into a lingering kiss and despite being breathless before, I get some air into my lungs when we part.

“Sorry, so hectic.”

“I know I’m sorry,” he strokes my cheek. “I would have gone if I could make it. Also don’t be mad.”

“Be mad?” I let go of the door handle. “What did you do?”

“Your TA stopped by, Bridget. I forgot she was coming so I didn’t have your papers ready. I invited her in and she was in the living room looking at our pictures and she stopped in front of the baby picture. Of our daughter.”

“Okay,” did Harry tell her our history? I get antsy. “And?”

“Well she asked if that was our daughter. And I didn’t know what to say, if you’ve said anything to her? I panicked?” Harry runs his hand through his hair. “I just changed the subject.”

“Okay, that’s not bad. What’s the bad part I don’t get it?”

“Well. I changed the subject and told her she should come to the wedding.”

My jaw drops. “Harry.”

“I know! I know I’m sorry! I know she technically works for you, she was a student, all that! You’re so fond of her though maybe it’s not a bad thing?”

“Harry that’s…she was my student! I’m a prof at that school I…is that even allowed?”

“Yes? I panicked and googled it.”

I groan, “I swear you’re getting worse the closer we get to the wedding.”

The other week he had tried to buy out a whole bakery in case there wasn’t enough cake for our guests.

“You can tell her we have a full guest list? I don’t know what came over me! She just looked at me with those puppy eyes and she asked about the picture and I tried to talk about something else but the only thing on my mind-“

I kiss him. Just to shut him up. I was getting really late.

“This is like that book club you were tricked into joining all over again-“

“Hey I really like that book club now! It might be a good thing!”

“We’ll talk later.” I shake my head at him. “It’s fine, it’s not a big deal. It’s weird but what’s one more guest?”

“I also said plus one.”

I let out a long exhale and then kiss Harry again. I didn’t want him spiralling while I was gone.

“Baby don’t worry, it’s okay. I’m fine with it. We’ll talk when I get home?”

I mull over it on the ride to uni. But I can’t find a way to uninvite her without it being awful. I text our wedding planner if we could squeeze in two more seats and she gives me the thumbs up.

I did have a soft spot for Bridget, and technically I’ve known her for over a year now.

During office hours, we get a few people in for the first half hour. Then we’re back to just the two of us.

“Thanks for taking over today,” I tell her. “I really appreciate it.”

“That’s alright. Happy to help out.”

An awkward silence slithers in.

“So my partner invited you to our wedding.”

“Yeah! I didn’t know if that was serious am I…?”

She looked so hopeful I couldn’t shoot her down. “Yes! I have a couple people from the faculty coming. And some colleagues from my day job. You’ll probably have to sit with them but?”

“That’s fine!” She’s chirpy Bridget again. “I’d love to. That would mean a lot.”

I watch her as the smile stays on and she gets out her phone, typing away. Maybe her friends, her plus one.

I realize I’m not entirely against it. It had happened, and I was okay.

***

I stare at myself in the mirror, smoothing down my dress in a nervous habit. I never thought I’d get married twice, I always thought after Tatum I was done with marriage, but Harry would always be the exception.

I feel a flutter of nerves thinking about him. Walking down the aisle to him. We started talking on a rooftop one day, we had just been two kids.

“You better not cry,” Taylor threatens as she walks into the room. She had gone to fetch lash glue after my teary eyes loosened an edge.

“I’m not,” I say weakly.

She stands beside me in the mirror, “They’re all waiting downstairs.”

Just 30 minutes ago this room had been a chaotic mess. From my mum, to my friends, to the wedding planner. I’m kind of glad my lash came loose, I’m able to ground myself in these few minutes of silence.

Taylor talks about our family downstairs as she fixes my face. I get up with her help and she beams, but her eyes look misty.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Nothing!”

“Why do you look sad what happened?”

“Oh my god calm down, I just can’t believe you and Harry are getting your happy ending! I’m just…emotional.”

“Aww,” I cup her face even though I want to squeeze my baby sister against me. But my white dress, although not entirely traditional, would be ruined for the ceremony.

A ping on her phone—mum. We rush out. It feels like getting caught when we were younger and quickly getting away from the scene of the crime. I grip my sister’s hand until I stand in front of the doors leading down the aisle.

I don’t remember walking, it felt more like floating. Even if there was a chimpanzee and a talking dog in the pews I wouldn’t have noticed. My eyes are locked on Harry’s teary ones, they anchor me as I glide towards the man I’ve never stopped loving. Who always saw all of me.

When he reaches for my hand I grasp it and I know I made the right decisions. Even the painful ones. After all, I wanted to be nowhere but here.

“Y/N,” Harry reads his vows to me and I try not to cry as he sweeps me away with his delicate words about our love story.

“To be so deeply known by another, without even saying a word, shouldn’t make sense and yet with us we have a language that goes beyond words. A brush of your hand or a look in my direction, it can be enough to unload whatever burden I’d just been carrying. I promise to do the same for you, and to never end this dialogue between us. To love you and to cherish you forever.”

Harry couldn’t keep the tears in and they slide down his cheeks as he reads his words out to me. I reach out instinctively and brush his tear away and he laughs because I was doing it again.

“You’re can’t make me cry in my makeup,” I tell him and our guests laugh.

I had sat and thought so hard about my own vows. In the end after 50 versions, I’d settled on short and sweet.

“Harry, when we first spoke on the rooftop of that party in high school,” I say at my turn. “You told me everything you wanted. One of them was to make the world a better place. And I don’t know if you still want those things as much now as you did then, but one thing is true. You’re made my world a better place. I can’t imagine doing life without you. I love you with all of my heart, there’s no equation that could calculate how much.”

Harry grins at me and my breath catches. My man, he was my Harry.

We finish our vows with a kiss and a lot of noise from the crowd. When we turn to everyone I’m struck by how lucky we were.

The absence of our daughter was tough but when it came to love we had an abundance of it. I see it in every smiling and shiny face in the crowd. It’s like photographing a sunny day with one of those old school films, the sun is covered by a dark spot but the rays still wash everything in gold.

Harry squeezes my hand and I look up to him. He’s already looking at me.

He holds his hand up and lets out a whoop before he pulls my face towards him again for an even longer and borderline inappropriate kiss. I feel myself start to blush in front of the crowd.

We start down the aisle and this time I beam at every guest I catch eyes with.

My mum and Harry’s wave with tear-streaked faces. My friends from high school shout out, always the biggest supporters of our relationship. I catch eyes with Bridget, forgetting for a second she was here. Philippe is beside her, but what’s surprising is her blotchy face. I didn’t take her for someone who got emotional at weddings. I throw her a wave and she smiles through the tears.

Whoever ordered weddings to have a small break between the ceremony and the reception deserved a billion dollars. Harry and I spend the quiet moment doing our outfit change but afterwards we hold each other and let the moment sink in. The day sink in.

“We’re married,” Harry whispers when I tell him we should get going so we weren’t late.

“We took the long way to get here didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” he tucks me under his chin again and even though we would be late we just sway together for a little while. Our own private first dance, before the one for our family and friends.

“We did it all quite backwards actually.” I look up to him.

“Yeah, but we were never ordinary.”

“No, and I don’t think anything we’ve ever done is either.”

“Including our kid. I really wish she were here.”

“We’ll tell her all about it one day,” I promise him. His face eases into a loving smile, the fact that we’d made it to a place again where I can comfort him about this said a lot. Said we’d make it through everything, despite.

“I don’t want to do life with anyone else y/n, I have everything I need right here.”

“Remember that day at Whole Foods?” I remind him. “The first time we bumped into each other.”

“It’s a core memory,” Harry remembers. “I feel like the sun never set on that day. Getting to see you after all those years…it’s cheesy but it felt like coming home.”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Me too. I recognized you by the back of your head did I ever tell you that?”

“Stared at it enough in maths, of course you did.”

“That’s probably why I did so poorly that year remember,” I laugh. “Just staring at the back of your head.”

“That’s why I never sat anywhere but in front of you.” He swipes lightly down my nose and I smile. “Now I get to see every angle of you whenever I want.”

“Oi,” I slap his chest. “Save it for tonight.”

He brushes my cheek. Under his gaze I’m stripped naked. There was nothing to hide with him, ever.

“I understand how long it took you to get ready,” he says in his deep silky voice. My stomach flips. “So I can’t do anything right now. But y/n, our wedding night will turn into a wedding dawn, and then to day again. I promise you.”

I tip-toe, even in my heels, and brush my lips along his cheek. In his ear I whisper, “I don’t expect anything less.”

I step away, feeling unravelled by the look of desire in his eyes. I’m sure I had the same look of want. But before we can give in to what we wanted to do, I open the door to our suite and embrace the gust of cool air.

“You should get some air too,” I say and he laughs, following me behind.

***

“Bitch!” Taylor comes up to me on the dance floor later that night. We had dinner, Harry and I had our first dance, there’d been toasts and tears in between. I was finally letting loose as the wedding party crowds the dance floor. We had been taking pictures all night, after this next glass of champagne I was going to call it quits on photos lest anyone captures anything that’s not an elegant bride.

“What?” I turn away from Harry to face Taylor. She’d been running around all day making sure my wedding day was perfect and seeing her just warms me with love. I squeeze her against me despite her protests. “I love you Taylor. Thank you for everything!”

“Ugh c’mon,” she wriggles out. She’d never been very affectionate.

“Where’s your bloke?” I look out for him.

“He taking a call. Anyway don’t change the fucking subject!”

“What subject!?” I ask as someone dances past me, fluttering their fingers in my direction. I blow them a kiss.

“C’mere,” she’s annoyed I’m distracted. She drags me off to the side and I hold a finger up to Harry as he watches us. “When the fuck were you going to tell us about her? And you invite her to your wedding and everything and nobody knows anything!?”

“What?” I was drunker than I thought or Taylor was making no sense. “Wha?”

“The girl you just took a photo with? Don’t act stupid Y/N jeez I can’t believe it. You hid it from me when it happened but why are you still hiding…”

My sister grows more upset as she talks, I realize it was serious. Taylor rarely allowed herself to get this worked up in public.

I put my hand on her shoulder but she shakes it off. I think hard about who she was talking about. Who had I just taken photos with?

Some of Harry’s friends took a picture lifting us up, then there was a photo with my cousin but that can’t be who Taylor was talking about. There was Andie, a few other friends and their partners, then Bridget and Bridget and Philippe.

Bridget.

“Wait what are…who do you think that is? Taylor I work-“

“Your daughter! Why are you still acting fucking clueless!”

“What’s happening?” Harry walks in mid-way into the conversation.

“God you too!” Taylor turns to him and hits the back of her hand on his chest. He rubs the spot and stares at her like she’d gone crazy.

“Me too what?”

“Harry?” His mum walks up to us, her brows pulled together the same way Harry’s does when he’s confused.

“Yeah?”

“Who’s that girl? With the brown hair? Purple dress?”

She’s eyeing Bridget who’s laughing with Philippe.

“Bridget?” Harry glances at me and Taylor grows more pink.

“Bridget? That’s her name?” Taylor blinks away tears. “Really y/n? I get when it happened I was a child, you and mom kept it from me. But she’s, you invite her to you-“

“Invite who?!” I shout. What the hell did Taylor think.

“Y/n,” Harry puts his hand on my lower back in warning.

“Your daughter?” Taylor says with teary eyes and a look of betrayal on her face. “That’s your daughter isn’t it? She looks just like…”

“Jesus I thought the same thing,” Anne looks at all of us. “Harry?”

“That’s not-“ he stops talking and we all look over at her. I had to say, right now she really could be. With her hair curled and wearing what she’s wearing. She could be family.

“She’s my TA. I’ve known her for a couple years guys I’ve bloody taught her. That’s not our daughter. She wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight? Harry invited her last minute.”

They all turn to look at me. Taylor looks miffed, she bites her lip as she looks at her one last time.

“That’s weird. Nevermind.”

She leaves like she didn’t just make a big scene. Anne covers her hand with her mouth and shakes her head. “I’m sorry loves, I didn’t mean to upset anyone-“

“You didn’t do anything,” I reassure her. Taylor did. And she couldn’t even say sorry.

“Don’t worry mum,” Harry pays her arm. She fades into the crowd and Harry stands in front of me so all I see is him. “She’ll get air, she’ll be fine.”

“But how could she just cause such a big scene like I’d hide something like that from her? On my wedding day! And then leave without even apologizing ugh! She is still such a brat sometimes!”

“I know, she’ll apologize later just let her be.” He knew Taylor enough. He knew her at 13 and he knew her now. That’s exactly what she would do. “We’re getting you a shot.”

“That’s the last thing I need! I’m already kinda tipsy Har.”

“This won’t tip you over c’mon. Shake it off.”

He leads me to the bar and we take a shot. I nearly spill half of it, it was awful whatever it was. I lose Harry as we get back to the dancing and end up behind Bridget instead. Philippe noticed me first and slows his dancing, which signals Bridget to turn around.

“Y/n!” Her smile is so bright it hurts to look at. It dims as I just stare at her.

It would be crazy. It was a big fat coincidence. She had a mum, a dad, a sister, she told me all about them. Her childhood dog and the time she twisted her ankle playing football in year 4. She wasn’t who we wanted her to be.

“Are you alright?” I read her lips. There’s only ringing in my ears. “Hey! Y/n!”

Philippe is suddenly on my other side and I’m being led to a chair. He disappears and Bridget pulls a chair beside me.

“What’s,” my voice sticks and I clear my throat. “What’s going on between you two? He’s your date?”

“Philippe?” Bridget’s brows draw together and I can’t stop looking at where they meet. I knew her. I didn’t know her. I was too afraid to ask. “No just friends.”

“That’s not the way he’s looking at you.”

“What?” She tucks her hair back. “No we’ve been friends since high school. It’s not like that?”

“What would you do if he got a girlfriend?” It was a random conversation to have, here and right now but it helps me from tumbling anywhere else. Especially into a pool of what-ifs.

“I’d,” she shrugs but a flicker passes through her face, for a second her jaw clenches. “Be happy for him.”

“Liar!”

“I’m not! Why are you asking?”

“You two like each other. I see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking. Why did you invite him tonight?”

She shrugs, picking at something on her arm. “I dunno. He’s good at being a plus one. He always supports me? He’s always been there for me.”

“Sorry,” he shows up with a glass of water. “I swear the guy behind the bar was ignoring me.”

“Thank you Philippe,” by now I didn’t really need the water but I hold the icy glass in my hands. “Let’s see the pictures you took. I want them in my inbox or something soon. We don’t get our official photos for months.”

“Oh yeah here,” Phillipe hands over his phone after opening the photo. There are a couple of all of us, and then a few with just Bridget standing between Harry and I smiling.

I look between all three of us and feel something in my gut. But it’s too scary and big to unpack right now. I shove it away. I couldn’t do this. Not today, not tonight.

“You look beautiful Bridget,” I touch a lock of her hair. “Did I already say that?”

“Yeah,” she smiles awkwardly. “You said that before the photo.”

“You do. And so do you Philippe. Thank you for attending my wedding.”

“Thanks for inviting us,” Bridget looks at me wide-eyed, like she’s about to say something but when Philippe’s hand lands on her shoulder she looks down.

“What?” I ask anyway. Her eyes dart like prey to me, to Philippe, and down to her hands. I grab her hand and force her to look at me, like I could read something in her eyes. Like I would know. “Bridget.”

She looks up and her eyes well with tears as we look into each other’s eyes. My throat feels tight like I was having an allergic reaction, it travels down to my chest, I inadvertently feel myself squeezing her hand.

“I’m so-“

“Bridget,” Philippe’s voice cuts through whatever Bridget was going to apologize for. I look up at him and he’s burning a hole staring at her that hard. Over his head I see Harry.

“Oh look I see my husband,” Harry’s spots me too, relief in his features. His eyes stay on my face as he walks towards me and his eyes keep my steady. I want to tell him something, but everything that just happened was so non-verbal and unreal that I think I made it all up. I must be because this was insane and there was no explanation other than I was drunk, and sadder than I realized. “Gotta go kids. Have fun. I think I need another shot.”

I remember the rest of the night in snapshots. I forget myself later, giving myself up to Harry after that. We actually make it to dawn in a mixture of love and declarations, filthy words and I love yous, laughter and deeper conversations. It’s everything we were. It’s just like he promised.

***

Life moves on and I don’t bring anything up to Harry. I couldn’t, either I’m wrong and get his hopes up, or he thinks I’d gone insane in my sadness.

I feel like Bridget avoids me the week after, I return to class and she sits there, even takes questions after class, but she makes an excuse of studying during office hours and I barely get a few words with her. The week after she has an exam and she skips out after class.

I’m antsy. I want to know more about her; from her. I’m tempted to find a way to access her profile, get more info via the school. But I wait.

Harry notices, as we prep for our honeymoon booked over the holidays, he continues to ask if I was alright. And I try to convince us both I was.

About 3 weeks after the wedding, it’s a Saturday afternoon. Harry’s making lunch and I’m sitting in a pile of our books trying to decide what can be donated.

“Can you get that?” Harry asks.

“Hm?”

“The door?” He says just as there’s another knock. I’d been so entranced in the book I’d randomly started reading a passage of I hadn’t even heard.

I scramble to get it before the next knock and nearly stumble back when I find Bridget at the door.

“Hiya,” she says with an awkward wave.

“Hi…Bridget. What…come in what’s going on?”

“Sorry? Now that I’m here I should have called first.” She comes in and I go further in, waiting for her to follow. She hesitates before peeling her wet boots off.

“Harry? We have a guest,” I announce as I take her further into the home. I guess she’d already been here once before. “Bridget what can we do you for? Did you need something?”

“Bridget!” Harry pops out of the kitchen into the adjoined living room when we get closer. “Nice to see you again! I’m nearly done lunch, did you want to stay?”

What was it with Harry randomly inviting Bridget to things that were not pre-discussed.

“Um, I no. I probably shouldn’t. I just, came by to talk?”

“Sure,” I lead her to our dining table. “Is it about school? Did something happen?”

I sit across from her and Harry mumbles something, turning the dials down on the stovetop before sitting beside me.

Bridget’s eyes dart everywhere, from me to Harry, to the pictures on the wall, the kitchen, the books all over the floor.

“I was just doing a clearout,” I say to fill the silence. “Hey you like books right? Look through that pile there later if you want any of ‘em.”

“Actually,” she tucks her hair behind her ear. I feel Harry tense beside me. “I have a book for you.”

She leans down to where her tote rests and pulls something out. She lays it on her lap first, where we can’t see it. When she looks up to us she has tears in her eyes and her chin quivers.

“Please,” she whispers before pausing. My stomach drops as I take her in. Her face is blotchy and her hair hangs around her face, hiding half of it. She’s definitely cried before coming here, and I almost feel like deja vu as she places the book on the table. “Please don’t hate me.”

She slides it across to us. It’s just a simple leather hardcover, about 30cm by 30cm. The thing in my gut, the suspicion or the intuition, it turns into a cackling ball of energy and moves up to my sternum. I put my hand over it, and then move it to Harry’s leg. He’s frozen like a statue, staring at the book.

“Please open it?” Bridget says with tears streaking her face.

When Harry doesn’t make a move I pull it the rest of the way towards us. I open the first page to a few baby pictures.

I’d never held her in my hands, never even saw her. I’d pushed her out into this world, into another’s arms. But somehow I know who this is.

“Bridget,” I don’t even look at her. I start to frantically flip through the pages. The baby grows, 2 months, 6 months, 1 years old. Another girl joins in some photos, she always has an arm around the other child. I flip and flip and flip and even though I’m expecting it the photo stops my breathing.

I stare at the clone, or the original, of the photo on my fridge.

I’m frozen until another photo is slid towards us. It comes into view: two teenagers on Halloween night. The guy is dressed like the girl, the girl is dressed like the guy.

I throw my chair back and in the time it takes to walk to Bridget she stands too.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs but I just do what I wanted to do the second she was born.

I hug her. I hold her to my chest the way I never got to over 19 years ago. She belonged here. She never got to be here.

She was finally home. My daughter.

“Bridget,” I cry into her hair. Harry’s hair. She had Harry’s hair, his eyes. She got my nose and everything else. I was holding my daughter. She was in my arms, finally.

She really did look like Taylor as a baby.

“I’m sorry,” she cries again. “I was so scared and I screwed up and-“

“No.” I say fiercely. I push her out of the hug so I can grab her face. I wipe her tears and I nearly cry again. How many tears had I missed? Over skinned knees, playground taunts, first crushes and friendship breakups. How many tears had I missed? “Don’t say that. You’re here. You’re—Harry!”

I turn to him, why wasn’t he here?

He’s sat exactly where he was before. Frozen, staring at a spot between the picture of us and Bridget.

I let go of Bridget and move back to him.

“Baby,” I touch his arm and he springs up. Tears coat his lashes.

“‘Scuse me,” he brushes past me and heads out into the hall. Away from us. I want to go after him but I don’t want to leave Bridget—our daughter, alone.

“I’m sorry I knew I would ruin things I-“

“Please,” I want to go after him so bad but I go to Bridget and pull her into a gentler hug. When we part I keep hold of her shoulders. I never wanted to let her go. “He’s just processing it. He’s fine. He’s not mad at you I promise. Promise.”

She bites her lip, it reminds me of Taylor. She was a bit of everyone I knew and loved. She was the love that Harry and I always had. She was ours.

“I just got so scared when I tried to reach…I didn’t mean to deceive you. I didn’t. I felt terrible every day.”

“It’s okay,” I tuck her hair behind her ear. “There’s nothing to be sorry about-“

“But I saw you,” she cuts me off. “After I finally called you back and then just like, ghosted you. And every time I saw you at school it was like…I knew I was to blame. And it made me want to tell you even more but I got more scared any time I came close to it. I almost said it at your wedding—it would have been so stupid. Philippe stopped me.”

“I understand,” I did. I also didn’t care about any of it. She was here. That’s all I cared about. I wanted to know everything about her, I needed Harry here though. “Look Harry…your…Harry. I’m just going to check on him. You stay here and just…”

I trail off and leave. I had to be sure he was okay.

He’s not in the bedroom, or the office. I try the door to the toilet and it opens, he’s sitting on the edge of the tub with his head in his hands.

“She leave?” He asks in a hoarse voice.

“Oh baby,” I crouch in front of him. “No. She’s still here but I just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m pathetic,” he buries his hands in his hair. “I’ve been waiting my whole adult life for this and all I do is freeze. Her first impression is of her dad just freezing and then running away.”

I try not to laugh at his dramatic retelling. “Har you know that’s not true. She’s known you before this. It was a shock-“

“You were fine.”

“You know I…always suspected. Especially after the wedding.”

He looks up at that, finally. “You never said.”

“Harry, I felt crazy. Saying it out loud would have forced me to check myself into the psych ward. We all react differently, it doesn’t matter though. Our baby girl is here. The day we talked about!”

He takes a deep breath, and then another one. I guide him to stand and he looks so limp and sad that I squeeze him in a hug. “She doesn’t care how you reacted. She just wants to know you.”

Harry sighs again, he splashes his face with water and we walk out. I was nervous for him.

We walk back into the living room and my heart sinks when Bridget isn’t there. But her things are?

A few steps further and she’s at the stovetop, stirring a pot.

“Oh sorry,” she steps back and nearly throws the spatula into the pot. “It was boiling a lot and-“

“Bridget,” Harry ignores most of what she’s saying and she freezes at the sound of her name. He’s a foot away from her now. I watch him raise a hand to her face and then drop it. His face is a cross between heartbreak and awe as they drink each other in. I wait in anticipation.

“Hi,” she finally says shyly. But it breaks the ice. Harry pulls her into a hug and she returns it tenfold from the looks of it. I can’t tell who’s crying, but I give them their moment as I turn the dials off on the stovetop.

It was just a regular Saturday, except it wasn’t. Our worlds exploded with our past and was putting itself back together again, all the old broken pieces were being mended back together with love. My chest drowns in it, I can barely breathe. In Harry’s arms, there’s no denying she’s ours.

***

“Thank you,” Bridget says as we tuck into dinner. Harry’s lunch prep had gone cold as we’d all sat down and talked about how Bridget found us (looking me up, finding out I was teaching a course she was interested in, forcing her friend Philippe to take it to see if I was who she thought I was), and going through her album. I found out more about her sister Louisa and her parents. It was weird seeing pictures of them, in my mind they were the people that took my baby as their own and for Bridget they were mum and dad.

We finally decide to do something about food when our stomachs rumble. Harry goes back to cooking, showing Bridget what he’s doing until she leaves to take a call. I recognize Philippe on the caller ID.

I take Bridget’s place but I’m more of an extra weight tied to Harry’s back as I hug hun from behind. We don’t even have words on what this all means to us. For now, just touching each other keeps us grounded, it keeps is in what was happening together.

Bridget comes back from the call when we’re nearly done.

“I just want to say I am sorry—and I know you said not to be,” Bridget says quickly before I can get a word in. “But I never meant to deceive the both of you. My plan was to take your class, leave the letter and then talk. I Googled you so much it felt like I knew you. Yet when we spoke in your office that day, you felt familiar but In a different way than the person I studied. I just liked you so much, and I wanted you to like me. I was scared maybe you wouldn’t. So I just screwed the plan and messed up everything.”

“Hey,” Harry hands her a tissue and she takes it. Under the table he squeezes my hand. “It’s in the past.”

“I know. Still made me feel awful. And I couldn’t tell you but I also couldn’t stay away. I applied for TA and, it felt like having a friend and a sister and a mentor all in one. And I…I screwed up. I took it too far. And then you invited me to your wedding—I got to attend my parents’ wedding! It was so absurd. I couldn’t stop crying.”

Sounded like me. But I don’t say anything. We listen to her attentively.

“I only told my sister. I wanted to tell you two before I told my parents.”

I think about my parents. Harry’s. I didn’t want to overwhelm her but I couldn’t wait to introduce her to everyone that already loved her.

“I just hope…no, I know I hurt you two a lot. I didn’t mean to. I am really sorry about it all.”

“Bridget,” Harry’s hand comes down on hers. “What’s done is over. There are so many things we wish we did differently but ultimately it’s all done. All that matters is you’re here, now. You’re our daughter we never got to meet and you’re finally here.”

Harry’s voice cracks on the last word and he sits back and laughs away the tears. “Sorry. I’m a mess today aren’t I? Your first impression of me is a crying mess.”

“That’s not my first impression,” Bridget laughs but her eyes also fill with tears. “That night at the pub. When I saw you two together I nearly bloody fainted! When I looked you up y/n, there’d been an old wedding registry with another bloke. But then seeing you two together?! I just couldn’t believe it—I thought I dreamed it. And then I nearly cried because my bio parents were somehow together?? And the way you just stared into my soul it felt like you knew who I was.”

I laugh, remembering but also knowing exactly what look Bridget was talking about. “He does have a piercing look doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. It could gut someone!”

“That makes it sound awful!” Harry laughs. “Don’t say that.”

“It nearly gutted me! I really thought oh shite—“ Bridget freezes and looks between us like we were gonna scold her for swearing and I nearly leap across the table to hug her again then. “I uhm, I thought you knew who I was.”

“We thought it then,” I let my eyes roam over her. I realize I’d always been a mother, despite not having my daughter. Holding her earlier had awoken an instinct in me and now every time I look at her I feel a rush of love and something fierce. I wonder if Harry felt it too. “But we thought we were mental!”

Her phone chimes as we laugh. She flips it around and then tucks it into her purse.

“You need to take that?” Harry asks.

“No it’s just Philippe. He was at the wedding? I was just talking to him, I hadn’t texted him in a while he wanted to know how it went.”

“Philippe,” I say with a knowing smile. Bridget blushes and Harry asks what he’s missing out on so I fill him in.

“He sounds like a good lad,” Harry comments.

“A good lad?” I repeat. “Are you hearing him?”

Bridget laughs behind her hand and I can’t stop staring at her. I have to force myself to go back to eating.

“He is. I might have told him about how I felt?”

“Wow,” I put my fork down. “You’re confessing an awful lot lately.”

She blushes even deeper. And suddenly I’m grateful of the weird and layered way she’d come into our lives. Despite hiding the truth, it had allowed us to get to know each other as people first. Without any baggage or give me any inclination to fit who I thought she should be onto who was in front of me.

I got to know her for the young woman she was first, so did Harry in a way. And I would be forever grateful for that despite all the pain in between.

“Sorry,” I get up. The affection was overflowing from my cup. “I’m going to give you another hug because I just can’t believe all this.”

“Ohh,” Bridget stands to meet me and we wrap our arms around each other. Here was a girl I already knew, here was my daughter waiting to be known.

“God, she really is our daughter.” Harry quips from his side of the table. He explains when Bridget looks over at him, “y/n is known to be a big touchy person, I’m kinda like that too.”

“Oh my god,” she smiles at us. “I’m like that too! My sister hates hugs. My dad’s 2 pats on the back man, 3 if he’s feeling a lot. I always wondered if…”

She trails off. It seems to hit all of us all over again every so often. For me it’s when she talks about her mum and dad and it’s not Harry and I. The reminder that she went 19 years becoming her own person that we now were catching up on.

For her, it seems it was realizing all the parts of us that were in her.

“You got Harry’s hair, and eyes.” I comment.

“I did! I realized that as soon as I saw a photo online. But I do look a bit like you.”

“You do! I should show you some younger pictures of us and our families. You’ll see more similarities.”

“Wow. So you have a younger sister. How about you Harry?”

“Older sister. Seems we all have sisters.”

Bridget and I make eye contact, remembering a conversation we had what feels like ages ago about having sisters.

We continue our dinner, swapping stories and filling her in on anything she wants to know. She leaves after, claiming to have to get back home, she had an exam on Monday to study for.

When she leaves Harry and I can’t stop talking about her. Or gushing would be more accurate.

“Did you see the way she laughs?” I’d tell him. “Pure you!”

“The way she tucks her hair back,” he would retaliate. “Just like you. You did that especially back in secondary.”

We talk until we’re exhausted, crawling into bed just staring in wonder. There were still so many details to figure out, so many things to cover, it could drown a person thinking of it all.

But like an anchor in the sea, Harry and I fall asleep with hand clasped together. We keep each other buoyed amidst it all.

It was going to take time for this all to sink in but all I’ve ever had was time, and questions. I think I was finally getting time and answers.

Age 39:

Harry’s pov: Having our daughter in our lives is simple and complicated at the same time. At first there were a lot of things to untangle but as time went on, the knots loosened until our lives became their own knots, tangled into each other.

Meeting her parents, the people I met once many years ago, was likely the strangest part. They already felt so familiar as soon as they greeted us in a warm embrace, as if we were there own children. I guess the last time they saw us we were.

“Oh look at you,” Bridget’s mum had squeezed us tight. Her dad had pat us three times and we took it to mean as much as a hug.

In my mind they were always the age they had been then. They were probably around the age we are now. Seeing them sport greys and fine lines, it was like stepping into a time portal.

Lou, Bridget’s sister, eyes us for the first little while before warming up and sharing all kinds of stories—especially the embarrassing kind with us.

When Bridget meets Y/n’s family, I can tell they’re loud and overwhelming at first but we’re all surprised when Taylor embraces Bridget and takes to her immediately.

She brings out old pictures they had of Y/N and I, but every time she says, “your mum and dad…” when she talks about us through the pictures, I notice y/n protesting less and less.

It makes me feel funny, I keep thinking I was going to wake up and find out it had all been a dream.

“This feels very full circle to me,” y/n’s mum says. She’s watching Taylor talk about her baby bump—she was 3 months along. “I saw Bridget as a wee baby when they handed her over to her parents. I remember running late to hospital and making it to the room just in time to see it. I blinked and now she’s in my living room!”

“Sometimes I feel the same way,” I confess.

My family is slightly quietier but they all fuss over our daughter. They ask a million questions and when it’s all over we take Bridget for ice cream. It’s a pseudo-recreation of a life we never had.

Bridget eases into it too. At first she had bouts of disappearing on us. No more than a couple days. But we give her space, understanding it was overwhelming.

Every time I see her, I see her mum—y/n. I was never there when y/n gave birth. We had to drive up from London when we got the news and by the time I got there the dust had settled.

I never even had the potential of seeing her. I’d always been more sympathetic of y/n; her loss had been physical, mine was slightly more abstract.

Even though I’d spent every year since regretting that I wasn’t there to at least glimpse her, I’m glad now I hadn’t been there to see her. If I had to live the last 18 years with this feeling in my chest I don’t think I could have lasted that long. I don’t know how y/n did it. It’s a concoction of deep unconditional love, and tenderness, and recognition, wrapped in a shell of protectiveness. It took me a while to sort through it all but I had a conversation with my parents one night at dinner Y/n and I had visited. And they’d laughed because they had told me that was simply what being a parent was.

“Maybe she regrets it,” I had said the second time she ghosted us. Really it had just been over a day where she hadn’t gotten back to us. But I couldn’t help the overthinking, being tuned into any potential of loss with our daughter.

Somehow, y/n was the cool headed between us two in these moments. Maybe it was being a mum, maybe it was knowing Bridget beforehand, but she was very in sync with her.

“She needs space. The last thing we want her to be is overwhelmed too. Now don’t overwhelm yourself love, at least she’s in our lives.” She’d say.

It takes us the start of the summer and all those meets later for Bridget to finally feel at ease.

We invite her on a road trip, we were renting a place in the Cotswold for a few days and told her to bring Philippe. When she doesn’t even hesitate to say yes Y/n tells me we’d done it: she was finally more comfortable than overwhelmed.

“Y/N made me a better man,” I say after a couple drinks. We’re all sat around a fire outside the house. Despite it being a warm day of hiking the night had cooled significantly and we’d decided that boozy hot cocoas was the way to go. “I’ve lost my ways a lot of times as an adult. But she’s always been my north star. Even when we got back together she led me to being sober and getting my shite together.”

“Oh…” Philippe looks down at his drink. “Are you…”

“No,” I laugh, Philippe was the most-conscientious teen I’d ever met. “I got sober to get my life in order. But…it’s in order now. I haven’t done anything crazy for over a year now.”

A little before our wedding I decided I wanted to end my sobriety. It had been a thought for months, and I had waited before giving in. But I really felt more in control of my life. I faced my life decisions head on, I confronted my past with y/n’s help, and I didn’t think I’d lose control again. It had been a shaky first week but I was right. It was a proud moment for me.

“You two really have something special,” Bridget comments.

“They do,” Philippe adds. “I can’t believe you got your happy ending after so many years!”

“Yeah,” y/n says as I lay my hand on her thigh, palm up. “Y’know what they say about loving someone and letting them go.”

“I guess you did that with me,” Bridget says so quietly we almost don’t hear her. But out here in the countryside we do.

“We didn’t want to,” I remind her.

“No I know.” She smiles, it’s a bit sad. Philippe tugs her closer. I could see how much he cared for her in that small gesture. “I’m not saying it like that. I hear your story and I just imagine how different my life would have been if I was raised by my, by you two. I wouldn’t have this life. And I really like this life.”

She looks at Philippe and I feel y/n squeeze my hand. She often said they reminded her of us when we were younger; the kind of love you’d do anything for.

“But you two loved me enough to let me go. To let each other go. It’s fucking sad but it’s beautiful. Life’s weird.”

“Here here,” Y/N raises her nearly empty cup of hot cocoa. “Life’s weird, sad, beautiful, but lately my life’s been full of so much love. I wish I could sell all the excess, I think I could solve a lot of world problems with it.”

“Wow,” I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “That’s one hell of a speech.”

“I have a speech,” Philippe stands, a little tipsy, and clears his throat. Bridget rolls her eyes but they shine for him. “Bridget you’re the love of my life. Since we were 13. But Harry and Y/N, I think I love you too. Ever since we were 15, I’ve watched Bridge struggle for answers about her past. And you two have given her all the answers, welcomed her—and me actually, into your lovely life. I’ve watched her become old Bridge but even more confident. I’m falling harder for her these days. And I can’t thank you guys enough.”

“Aw Philippe come here,” y/n lets of my hand to walk around and give him a hug. How quickly strangers became family.

Bridget grumbles about being left out and joins the hug. Soon I join in too. I want to create a mold of this moment, I think as I squeeze them against me, I’d make it out of plaster and let it dry. Any time we wanted, we could always find our way back to this moment here.

Age 40:

Y/N and I watch our daughter cross the stage. Beside us are our parents and in front of us sits Bridget’s parents and her sister. She has a whole army cheering for her. This was the first milestone event we could all really show up for, and show up we did.

“I can’t believe this,” I was so proud of her. I know the kudos went to her parents, and herself, but I beam with pride. Honestly Bridget could spin in a circle in front of me and I would be a proud dad.

“We need to get photos,” mum leans over and says so seriously, as if we hadn’t planned on getting a million already.

We have a framed picture in our hall, Y/N and I on our wedding day, our daughter in between us. Her graduation photo is definitely making it. She makes fun of this wall, calls it the Styles hall of fame, and I never mention it but she always lingers a few second longer in front of the photo of the three of us.

I do too.

“It makes me so sad you won’t be so close to me anymore,” my mum tells Bridget later. We’re all piled in our flat, drinks and celebratory cake in everyone’s hands.

It reminds me of mine and y/n’s 40th birthday, we had gathered our family and friends here and it was some of their first times meeting our daughter. Today is more intimate, and focused on Bridget.

“I know it makes me sad too, but I’ll be here often, visiting Philippe.”

“Only visiting Philippe?” I raise a brow.

“Is there someone else I’m supposed to be visiting?” She mirrors my raised brow.

As Bridget’s gotten more comfortable, me and her could banter for hours if you let us, it’s one of those things that brought us closer together—having the same sense of humour. It’s allowed us to have just as deep heart-to-hearts, a handy joke always close to the surface.

Y/N always says seeing me like that, thoughtful and silly, reminds her of the boy she fell for. I can’t deny that I’ve been feeling closer to my 20 year old self than my 40 year old self lately.

“She’s too cheeky,” Bridget’s mum says. “But I have to say I’ll be glad to have her back.”

Lou, Bridget’s sister, was moving to Wales. Apparently she wanted to know more about her background, and take a trip with her bio mum to visit her bio dad.

I think Bridget was moving back to Coventry to keep her parents’ loneliness away; she said she would commute to Birmingham for school. Even though she got accepted into law schools in London, going to a uni close to her parents just showed me how close she was to her parents. It was a bittersweet feeling.

“I’ll have somebody to watch cricket with again,” her dad says.

“Ohh,” Bridget throws her sister a side-eye. “I love cricket…”

We all laugh at her complete lack of concealing her true feelings.

Later that night, it’s just Bridget’s parents and us. The kids are on the balcony talking.

“I know we’ve said it before,” I say after a long silence. We’d just been watching the kids talk and laugh outside. “But I want to say thank you again.”

Bridget’s dad shakes his head. “It was the greatest pleasure of our lives getting to raise those two girls.”

He looks over at his wife and they smile at one another. Seeing them interact, I’m grateful that somehow fate had led us to them. While Y/N and I were figuring life out, while I fucked up a lot of things, she was raised on a steady and stable foundation.

“She’s incredible,” I murmur. “She’s gonna be a lawyer. She’s going to change the world.”

“She sure will,” her mum says. “We should be thanking you two. For giving us Bridget. I know it wasn’t easy, you told me you thought about her nearly every day. But we can’t imagine our lives without her.”

We sit in a comfortable silence, looking out at the kids until they notice and start to ask questions through the glass.

“She’s happier,” her mum says smiling at Bridget and Lou exaggerating their words through the glass. “She stopped being like this before she left for uni. We thought we lost her but…I think everything worked out for the best.”

Y/N glances at me. Her eyes crinkle when she finds me looking at her first, her eyes steady me as she says what I was thinking, “I think so too.”

Age 45

Your pov: “When did she say she would be here?”

“6?” Harry says for the tenth time.

“It’s 6:20 do you think something happened? She hasn’t texted has she?”

“My love,” Harry puts down the cutlery he was arranging on the table and holds my face in his hands. “They’re driving from Coventry, they probably hit some traffic.”

“Maybe I should call her?”

Harry sighs and squishes my face.

“Don’t! You’ll make more wrinkles.” I warn.

“I love your wrinkles,” Harry kisses my forehead right where the pesky wrinkles had been growing deeper over the last few years despite the additions to my night routine.

Harry always said our wrinkles were just the stories of our lives showing through. I told him to get himself undereye cream.

“You don’t think I’m aging handsomely?” He strokes the moustache he started growing last year. At this age, even I couldn’t deny it made him even more attractive.

“Well it’s no good if you’re ageing handsomely and I age like a troll.”

“I will love you if you age into a troll.”

“But will you love me if I turn into a worm?”

“Do you even have to ask? I’d buy you the best soil and keep you in a beautiful pot.”

“You wouldn’t take me fishing?” I ask. He sighs. Last year while we were taking a trip up north for Lou’s wedding, we’d gotten into a fight and when I asked him the question while he was still stewing he said he’d take me fishing. It had, ironically, broken the iciness of his anger and we’d laughed about it so hard he’d nearly had to pull over.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” he wraps me into his chest nearly suffocating me.

I’d spent half my life with a lot of difficulties, but life now felt easy compared to it. I had the privilege of getting older with the man I adored, got to watch my daughter flourish as an adult and a lawyer, watch her get married to the love of her life, and all the while live comfortably in the heart of this city I called home.

When Bruno starts barking though, I gasp and push myself off of Harry, “that’s them!”

Bruno continues to bark as I rush to the door. We’d got him a couple years ago as a pup and I can’t believe it had taken us that long to get a dog. He filled our lives with laughter and long walks. We loved him.

“Down.” I say to him. I open the door and hold my hands out while Bruno runs in circles beside me.

“Ahhh sorry we’re late!” Bridget steps into my hug and I tug Philippe’s hood so he can join. Bruno goes for Philippe when they walk in, he’d gotten obsessed with him after Philippe took care of him while Harry and I took an anniversary trip last year.

“Where are my hellos!?” Bridget says to Bruno and he barks, standing on his back legs to paw at her leg.

I hadn’t seen the two of them since March, that was 6 months ago. It had been their wedding, and they’d gone on a month long honeymoon after that, after which Harry and I had taken time off to road trip around Europe with Bruno, and then time had just zipped by.

After a hearty dinner, Harry and I carry out the birthday cake we’d been hiding.

“You didn’t have to do this!” Bridget fans her face but we treat it like we do any special occasion, plus making up for all the ones we’d missed. We get photos and exchange presents, she cries reading the cards and the whole time she says she had a present for us.

It’s a small bag, Harry and I guess that it was something for Bruno but when we take out a box it doesn’t sound like much when we shake it.

“Is this a prank gift? There’s nothing in it?” Harry asks.

“Open it!” He was making me antsy.

“You open it,” he hands me the box. Bridget and Philippe stare intently at my hands.

I undo the bow and slowly open the box. There’s a small square of tissue paper, and then a piece of paper. I remove both but something catches my eye.

I flip the paper over and stop breathing.

“Is that-“ Harry stops talking too. We stare at the piece of paper in our hands. It looks so much like one I had held 28 years ago. But it’s not.

“Bridge,” I look up at the couple. The parents-to-be.

“We’re having a baby,” Bridget says. Philippe and her are gripping hands and I throw everything off of me to launch myself at her.

“A baby!” I hear Harry say and joining us. “You’re having a baby! Y/n!”

“I never thought we’d be grandparents,” I look up at Harry.

“Those wrinkles were coming in for a reason,” he teases.

We never did have any other kids. Quite frankly, neither of us wanted any. When we first got together we were just starting to get comfortable with the reminder that we had a daughter out there and we could talk about her freely with each other. It felt like having a third person in our little family.

After Harry proposed, while we planned our wedding, we talked about it but we never thought it felt right. We both had first marriages where a lack of conceiving had just put a strain on the relationship we didn’t think we needed. We’d also felt like it was betraying something, before we met our first child.

When Bridget did reach out, it became about catching up on lost time. And then with her in our lives we knew what we suspected all along. We had each other, and that was enough. Bridge was our bonus. And getting to be aunt and uncle to our nieces and nephews it was enough. It was a full enough life.

We never even dreamed in our 20s we’d get to be parents and now we would get to be grandparents! I never realized until this moment that I wanted this. Really wanted it.

“Do you know the gender?” Harry asks.

“No,” Philippe answers. “We were thinking of doing one of those reveal parties? But not for a couple months.”

“Wow,” my hands drift down to Bridget’s belly and I remember I had something. I leap away from the group and find the box in my closet, it’s painted pink with random collages from old magazines. It hosts old diaries, photos, a hospital bracelet, and an ultrasound.

“This was you once,” I show her the picture when I get back. “I carried you like that once upon a time.”

She takes it with teary eyes, holding it close to her face to make out the shape of her. She hands it to Philippe and grabs my hands.

“I’ve thought about it before, but when I got pregnant I couldn’t wait to tell you-“

“She kept telling me I had to make a trip out to London just so she could give you the news.” Philippe interrupts, eyes scanning the ultrasound still.

“No really,” Bridget laughs. “I did. It’s like I got this new perspective.”

She puts my hands on her belly and covers mine with hers. I feel everything at once then, all the heartbreak I ever went through to get here.

“I can’t imagine giving this baby up. And it’s barely 3 months. What you were willing to do to give me a better life-“

She breaks off and Philippe squeezes her shoulder. I watch my daughter try to gain control of her emotions. I remember when I was pregnant with her, anything would set me off.

“It must not have been easy. After carrying me like this for 9 whole months. Thank you-“ she looks up to where Harry’s standing. I barely register his hand on my shoulder. “Thank you as my mum and dad, for making the hardest decision I can imagine ever making, so I could have something you knew you couldn’t provide.”

I reel my tears in, save them for later that night in bed while Harry holds me tight against him.

Right now I kiss my daughter and tell her what a good mother she will make. I tell her and Philippe how proud I was of them, how excited, how wonderful this was.

Age 46

The day we meet our granddaughter is seared into my brain. We get the call at 8:35pm, Harry and I were staying in a B&B in Coventry despite Bridget’s mum insisting we stay with her. We’d been here all weekend, booked it all week, not wanting to miss Bridget’s delivery date.

“Y/N she’s here,” her mum whispers into the phone. Her voice is filled with joy and giddiness. “She’s here.”

“We’re coming,” I say. Harry’s already at the door and we rush out into the night to see our granddaughter.

She has the perfect little face, and when she finally wakes up I gasp when I see Harry’s eyes looking back at me. I turn to him, to see if he noticed, but he’s teary-eyed and gazing at the baby in awe. I soak it in for a second, imagining this exact look if we’d kept our baby so many years ago.

Bridget’s parents had given us the room, to give us a moment alone, and I can’t be more grateful. Bridget encourages us to hold her and as her soft body is pressed into my body I let out a sob and hand her over to Harry. I excuse myself and step outside the room.

Lou’s kids sit on the floor outside, playing with whatever toys are spilling out of a miniature backpack. I focus on the flashy colours, trying to calm down, counting the number of toys falling out.

My life was a 180 from 10 years ago. This moment would go down in our history books as one of the best days of our lives.

But I can’t deny the bittersweet. The experience threatens to push me into the bitter past of not even getting to hold Baby Bridget. But with it comes an undeniable sweetness of getting to experience this now.

I take a deep breath and walk back in. Harry and Bridget stop mid-sentence and turn to me. Bridget’s face is streaked with tears, Harry’s looks concerned but I smile. He sits with the pink bundle to his chest and I ache.

“Don’t look so obvious you were talking about me,” I try a joke.

“Are you alright?” Bridget asks.

“May I hold her?” I ask in return.

I sit on the edge of the bed and she’s placed in my arms; she’s perfect. Just as perfect as Bridget must have been.

“She’s got Philippe’s hair,” I gently stroke the wispy blonde strands.

“She’s got my eyes, her grandpa’s eyes.”

I look at Harry. And he catches the stricken look on my face when Bridget tips forward and whispers to her baby.

“Look baby, this is your mumma’s mum, and your mumma’s dad. You’ve got his beautiful eyes. Say hi to grandma!”

My throat tightens. “Bridge.”

She leans away, her eyes dart between us. “I know I call you Y/N and Harry. It made it easier at first but…you are my mum and dad. Even though I have another pair. You are my mum and dad. And I want her to know you like that.”

“Oh love,” Harry leans down and kisses the top of our daughter’s head. She keeps her green eyes trained on me, grasping my hand that’s wrapped under her baby’s.

I mouth a thank you, my voice couldn’t pass through the block in my throat. She squeezes my hand and it sets the baby off. Remembering when my nephews were this young, I just hand her back to Bridget knowing she only wanted her mum.

Harry and I stay in the waiting room. We couldn’t go home, even though we had spent our allotted time we had inside the room, we stay there.

We watch Lou’s kids as Bridget’s family gathers in her room. We stay as they fall asleep, draped over us. I remember when Taylor’s kids were this small, they would fall asleep anywhere.

We talk in whispers, I don’t remember what about exactly. Mostly how excited we were. How there was so much to look forward to. How different our lives looked a decade ago.

“One day we’ll tell our grandkids,” I remember Harry saying. “We’ll tell them all about us, how we met, how our love burned so bright it shone in the sky. We lost each other but our love was always there to guide us back home.”

“We’ll see them grow up, all the memories we missed.”

“We’ll change diapers.”

“We’ll change diapers,” I giggle, half-delirious by the lack of sleep. It was probably 2am and I was tired.

When I gaze up at Harry I remember him holding our granddaughter. I replace her with Bridget. For a minute I allow myself to imagine how that would have been.

“I think you would have made an amazing mum if we did things differently,” Harry whispers into my hair.

“You too.” I whisper back.

“An amazing mum? You think?” The edge of his lips tug upwards.

“Harry,” I warn. We had kids sleeping on us we were trying not to wake.

“I love you.” He says in response. “To the stars and back.”

On our drive home I can’t stop looking at him. I always wondered how it would be like to grow old with someone; when I was younger and watch my own parents celebrate anniversaries. And then when I was older and my first marriage was so rocky.

But thinking about it now is like a simple mathematical equation. You take two lives, two individuals, and you bracket them in love. You add an exponent—the decision to continue choosing each other. And you get a lifelong commitment. No matter the situation, no matter the challenges or the changes, you choose to choose each other.

His side profile lights up by an oncoming car. For a second he’s the same boy I feel in love with, a few more gray hairs, a few more wrinkles, and a moustache. But he’d always be the boy I followed out to the roof, who held my hand in our high school hallway, the one who turned an I into a we when I got pregnant, I see the man I had coffee with after a run-in at the Whole Foods, I see the broken heart from a harsh life sitting on the steps of a church, I see a bookworm, I see a father, a husband, and now a grandfather. I see the one person who knows me like the back of his hand. The one I am home with always.

“What is it?” Harry asks as we pull into our b&b. “Have you been asleep this whole ride or have you been staring at me?”

“Staring at you?” I ask. “You think I was staring at you the whole ride?”

“Well you were really silent. And facing me

“I was thinking.”

“About me?”

“Why are you so desparate!? Do I not show you enough love regularly?”

“I could always use more,” Harry looks half asleep as we reach our door.

“The people are right: you give someone a hand and watch as they take the whole arm,” I tease.

“When you gave me your hand, I made you a wife.” Harry retorts.

“Ooh,” I poke him. “I have to say that’s a good comeback for being half-asleep.”

Harry grins back. “You keep me sharp.”

“And you keep me happy. Now open the door so I can stop freezing out here!”

We walk into the warmth of our b&b.

For so much of our lives, our past decisions haunted us. We let so much go. Now life was repaying us, returning it all back, with interest.

***

In a small b&b in the middle of a town called Coventry, two lovers crawl into bed. They’d just become grandparents and they carry an exhausted buzz about them as they try to fall asleep. They’re both thinking of the other, of their daughter, of the tiny bundle they held in their arms today.

Some 20 minutes away their daughter lays in a hospital bed, an exhausted buzz putting her to sleep. She dreams of her mother who gave her up, how she had found her parents in the end, and dreams about the kind of mother she’ll be.

A few doors down lay her newborn daughter, she doesn’t dream of much, not yet, but she’s in for a lifetime of love.

Most of life is what we made it. Y/N and Harry loved deeply enough to make it.

———————————————

TAGLIST: @quinnwritezz @unknownnbihh @dilfhrrys @umadirectioner @hermionelove @anonymous-91 @meganxfddf

[physalian]

10 Plot Premises That Never Get Old

There’s a great many lists out there complaining about the worst and most overused tropes in fiction. I want to pass the mic to tropes that will never get old. The love-to-hate ones, the knife-twisting ones, the shipping fodder.

1. Killing the character who knew too much

Or, the “Maes Hughes” effect. Your story centers around a massive mystery or conspiracy and one lone character is unfortunately not genre-savvy enough to remember that the phrase “the early bird gets the worm” ends in “but the second mouse gets the cheese”.

This is the character who has unraveled the partial, if not entire truth, coming to a shocking realization moments before their untimely murder. Usually, they’re alone. Usually, this death rocks the remaining characters, sometimes for the entirety of the remaining plot (see FullMetal Alchemist). Usually, they become genre-savvy at exactly the moment they realize there’s no way out of this. Conveniently, they’re never on the phone with the right person, or there’s never any cell service. They didn’t write their findings down or didn’t hit record.

This whole entire tragedy is only a tragedy because this character made the wrong choice that is also the only choice this character would have made.

2. The enemy of my enemy

As OSP once said, anyone can be a minion, even the presumed Big Bad. Whether it’s a serialized cartoon with well established sides of good and bad or a single movie, having two entities that loathe each other reluctantly and bitterly join forces to deal with an even Bigger Bad… that’s the good stuff.

Either the villain has been minion-ed, or the good guys and the bad guys’ enduring battle of morals is interrupted by a wild card third party that insults them both or threatens the world both sides are trying to save in their own ways.

This is *not* a redemption arc. This is the temporary alliance that usually terminates once the threat is dealt with (see: Transformers Prime, or ‘Marabounta’ from Code Lyoko). Extra points if they’re age-old rivals who fight better together than the hero does with the rest of their team. Extra extra points if they both realize this and firmly deny that it happens (and even more if the villain tries to exploit the hero with this fact later on).

3. The redemption arc

***Emphasis on the word ���arc’*** The ones that span 56 out of 61 episodes (see: you know the show). The ones that cost the redeemer their ideals, the friends they thought they had on the wrong side, maybe a limb or two. The ones that start with a villain so convinced they’re right, only to slowly question everything they’ve come to know and, without shedding their entire personality, do the right thing and still survive the process.

This is not redemption equals death. This is not a half-assed heel turn at the very last second—that’s a button mash impulsive act for shock value. This is taking a character almost all of the heroes have given up on trying to save, someone they themselves have nearly written off, and deciding to try anyway. This is a character deciding to do the right thing even if it doesn’t ever redeem them at all. This is a character whose whole life ahead of them is spent doing better than what was done before, and we love them for it.

4. The haunted ashes of a fallen empire

This one is a bit more tricky to define but think Prometheus of the Alien franchise, or Xerxes from FMAB. These are characters in the present exploring the ruins of a civilization that never should have fallen, but did due to the Big Bad they either created or tried to imprison. This is those characters looking around at what used to be, and making history repeat itself whether they’re genre-savvy or not.

These are the glaring red sign posts telling the heroes to turn around every step further in *or else* and they do it anyway. Or, these are the heroes who know exactly what happened and in their own hubris, are convinced it won’t happen this time to them.

5. The Most Dangerous Game

The originator: An island owned by a big game hunter who has evolved into hunting humans. The trope: Powerful and/or incredibly skilled character in any other situation is trapped in the confines of a dwindling clock matched up against the very antithesis of who they are and what they represent, but who is also just like them.

I just love seeing characters who are normally incredibly competent and rarely fazed, tripped up by the horror of being hunted by someone just like them who lost their humanity. So many juicy existential questions arise, so much angst. Double points if the character has a firm no-kill policy or extremely picky morals and has to wager tossing them aside to survive.

6. Stranger in a strange land

Whether it’s a character in a foreign country trying to learn and respect the ways of the people who saved them (see: Last Samurai, or Avatar '09), or an alien who crash-landed on Earth and struggles to assimilate and not get caught by the government (see any PG 13 alien adventure movie), a time traveler to the past or the future (Outlander, Back to the Future), either drama or hilarity ensues, often with a heaping helping of socio-political commentary.

It gets kind of troublesome when the writer is a white guy taking all the wrong messages from throwing his white guy protagonist into a land of the ‘savages’ (see uhhhh all variations of Pocahontas). But then you have strange lands like Wonderland, or Narnia.

7. Magical Otherworlds

Speaking of Narnia and Wonderland—magical hidden otherworlds. They can be incredibly blandly executed sometimes, but some of our most cherished stories come from living vicariously through Harry Potter or the Pevensie siblings. In this case I’m specifically talking about complete otherworlds, not hidden-in-plain-sight otherworlds (see: Percy Jackson) because of the complete freedom and creativity you have in geography, history, and world mechanics.

The possibilities are endless! Double points if the otherworld is a metaphor for childhood adventure and living without adult responsibilities (see: Peter Pan), a world in which we know, no matter how cool the world is, the protagonist was never meant to stay there. They must always inevitably, inexorably, return home and take what they’ve learned there to live a better and profound life.

8. “I know you’re in there somewhere”

Is it done to death? Yes. Is every situation different because it’s completely dependent on the relationship between the characters involved? Also yes. Tends to overlap with a redemption arc, but more often a hero-turned-temporary-villain. The drama! The angst! The shipping fodder! (see: many, many anime, too many to count)

This trope also has some uncertainty to it. You never know if the confrontation will be a success, if the character in question will commit some heinous act to wrack them with guilt later, if they even want to be saved, or if they really were saved and not just faking it. Either we get a POV of the stricken character’s battle in the mind or are left watching on the edge of our seat as unknowing as those trying to save them, and sometimes, rarely, they’re just not salvageable.

9. On the Run

The base has been discovered, the ship has been overrun, the house has burned down, the government is on the hunt. The hero team is forced apart with only the clothes on their back and what they can carry with only one or two others and loses all contact with most of their team, scattered to the wind. They leave a trail of sketchy motel rooms and diner take-away boxes, or they sleep in their car, or are forced to hide out in old bases that the villain definitely knows about but wouldn’t bother checking, built in a bygone era with a friend that’s no more.

Everything they ever knew has been called into question. The character they find themselves stuck with wasn’t their closest buddy on the hero team, but both forge a newfound respect for each other in this new unknown. Poignant conversations are had as one keeps watch in the dark so the other can sleep, and yet doesn’t, as they mourn the passing of the life both knew and vow to take it all back in their darkest hour.

10. The Thing

As in, a mysterious entity or illness has invaded the story and knowing which characters are infected and compromised is impossible. This entity either bodysnatches other characters and can be expunged, zombifies them, or kills and replicates them (see many zombie shows, iterations of The Thing, or “Croatoan” from Supernatural). This entity is a sickness slowly spreading throughout the town or the base or the ship and the heroes (or villains) realize far too late that something is very, very wrong.

This entity brings characters to their breaking point, paranoia making them do very bad things in the name of survival, killing off characters the audience knows is clean, but their murderer doesn’t, for extra knife-twisty fun. This entity brings a morally devout character near to ruin as they almost cross a line trying to do what’s right. This is an entity where, even when it’s defeated, is never really gone for certain… is it?

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Love me or hate me, both are in my favor (Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader [HS Academic rivals AU])

Hiii! I love this chapter hehe Not proofread.

(L/N)- Last name.

Cursing, mentioning of death, reader and Miguel be silly goofy, Miguel being just the slightest bit protective.

Word count: 2k

Series Masterlist Series playlist

Chapter 3: It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

—

Due to your leg, you weren’t able to attend classes for a few days. Which sucked complete ass, being cooped up in your small dorm room for 4 days was complete torture. It was nice at first though, giving you an excuse to catch up on some books. Mj was nice enough to drop off your assignments and it was as a complete relief when you saw she came out of the night unscathed, reassuring her you’re okay when she expressed her guilt when she realized you weren’t running behind her the day of the attack.

You put your phone down on your lap, growing tired from watching mind numbing content on social media. Your eyes landing on your bandage leg, twisting the muscles a bit in an attempt to stretch it, feeling the dull soreness ache through your hamstring. You were now able to walk but only for small amounts of time, not enough to be able to return to class but enough to go to the bathroom without having to grab onto every surface you can find to hop on your right leg. Luckily, the doctor said you’d be able to go back the following week once you get your crutches delivered to your room . As you continue to move your leg slightly from side to side, your mind wanders back to the events of last saturday. You know you shouldn’t be thinking of it, because it makes your heart rate pick up and your hands get clammy again, but then you think about Spider-Man, and it calms you a bit. The way he was so gentle with you, holding you like you were made of porcelain, but tight enough where it felt like he wouldn’t ever let you go again, and that voice, his tone when he spoke to you,it was almost too gentle, like he knew you personally. He obviously hadn’t seen your leg, because if he had he would have taken you to a hospital instead of your dorm room, bringing you in through your window that you had forgotten to lock. Although to be fair you could have told him to take you to the hospital when he asked where you lived, but you were still frazzled from the whole thing.

A strong, almost rapid knocking at your front door snapped you out of your thoughts, startling you slightly as you let out a small yelp, before letting out a huff as you went up and limped your way to the door to greet your unexpected guest. It’s probably MJ you thought, she tended to drop by without notice during the last four days to bring you your homework or some snacks to make you feel better. Once you were able to stand steadily on your feet, you opened your door.

“O’Hara?” The name came out of your mouth before the action could register in your brain, being completely blindsided if you were being honest with yourself. The same thing happened with your next question. “How’d you find out my room number?”

He didn’t reply to your questions, rather asking one of his own. “Where have you been? You’ve missed two days of school. Two. You’ve never even been late to a class before.” The hostility in his voice had somehow found a way to leave you more confused, he was acting like you were his girlfriend who had just ghosted him or something.

“Well- I-“ You stuttered, you never stuttered around Miguel, you have no idea what to say if you were being honest, this was something very different from your usual dynamic with each other. You subconsciously shifted your good foot a bit so you could support more of your weight on it. Miguel’s eyes instantly dropped to your legs, and you could have sworn that they grew a decimal bigger when they landed on your bandage leg. You didn't have a chance to properly answer before he shot another question at you.

“Who did that to you?” It came out almost in a growl, his brows furrowed together, shoulders tensing back slightly and his hands twitching into a fist for a split second before relaxing back to a more relaxed position, it felt like he was burning a hole through the leg with his eyes only. The question felt odd. Most people would ask “how’d you get that?” or “what happened to your leg?”

“Well, I was caught in that freak accident at the met on Saturday. I hurt my leg because I fell down.” You said to him as you followed his gaze down to your left leg, twisting it slightly so he could see the side better. “It’s just a scrap and a grade 1 tear… doctor said it will take 3 weeks at most to heal.” You boredly explained with a shrug, as if you were just discussing the weather.

For some reason, the way you explained it so nonchalantly made him slightly angry. Partly at you, because you were talking about it so casually, like it was a regular Wednesday night for you, when you could have gotten killed. Hell. You did almost get killed. Also partly at himself, for not noticing the injury when he had saved you that night. How he hadn't noticed the giant gash covered in dry blood on your leg, was beyond him.

Miguel let out a deep exhale as he rubbed his face with his hand, his eyes closed and his face twisted with irritation, before running the hand through his hair. “Que voy hacer contigo…” he murmured to himself under his breath, you saw his lips move but you didn’t catch a word. Before you could ask him to repeat himself, he took it upon himself to invite himself into your room, closing the door behind him. (What am I gonna do with you…)

“Hey! What are you-“

“Shut your mouth and let me help you to your bed, will you?”

“I don’t need help. I am perfectly capable of walking-“

“Limping.”

“Walking myself to bed.”

Miguel didn’t justify your argument with a rebuttal, instead he lifted you up and placed you on his shoulder like a bag of sand, before plopping you down onto your bed. Ignoring your annoyed whines and your balled up fist hitting his hard back as he took you. You let out a small grunt as you landed, before crossing your arms and glaring at him. You hated how easily he could just toss you around like a rag doll. How dare he go to the gym on his down time.

“Was that necessary O’Hara?” You huffed, your eyes following him as he slowly placed around your dorm, not even attempting to hide his shameless snooping.

“…Most likely not… but you know how much I love to mess with you, (L/N).” He remarked with a small smirk, before stopping in front of your book self and grabbed one titled “The sun and her flowers” before flipping it open to a random page.

“When death takes my hand, I will hold you with the other… and promise to find you in every lifetime…” As he finishes the quote, he lifts and turns his head towards you. He wasn’t expecting you to already be looking at him first. Both of you fall into a moment of silence, before he clears his throat and closes the book, looking away. “Quite melodramatic don’t you think?” He mumbled.

You shrugged, “If a poem hasn’t ripped apart your soul; you haven’t experienced poetry.”

He scoffs, “who said that?”

You smiled, “Edgar Allan Poe.”

Miguel couldn’t help the way his lips twitched upwards slightly as he let out another scoff. It was almost endearing the way that you slipped quotes like that into conversations so easily, if it was anyone other than you who said that he’d almost find it adorable.

“You are so pretentious, you know that (L/N)?” He states, placing the book back into its original spot before turning back to face you, taking a step towards your bed, and grabbing one of your extra pillows and placed it under your foot to elevate it before you had time to protest.

“Look who’s talking..” You glared at him, going to move your leg off the pillow so you could get off your bed to stand up once more, but your foot only came off about a few inches before Miguel’s large hand came down and firmly placed it back on the pillow, sending you a look of warning. “I don’t need you to watch me, I don’t need your petty. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself! Even if I wasn’t, you are the last person I would go to.” You scolded him, coming across a lot harsher then attending to, but it was too late to take the words back.

Rather than focusing on the smallest ping he felt in his chest after you spoke, he just put his hands up in a defensive manner, you were right, you don’t need Miguel’s help. He doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to you all of a sudden himself. Maybe he feels guilty about the whole you almost dying thing, but it wasn’t his fault you were at the museum when the green goblin struck. It’s not like you were on death’s door because of your leg, and he saved you for god’s sake, even if it was as Spider-Man and not Miguel. You might not know that, but he sure as hell does.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Miguel sighed, going to stand up straight, his warm hand leaving your leg,the sudden cold air of your room hitting your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Now it was your turn to feel the ping in your chest.

You didn’t mean for it to come off as rude as it did. Miguel was good at hiding his emotions, but if you knew one thing better than you knew yourself, it was him. Whether you liked to admit it or not, you’ve grown familiar to all of his little quirks and mannerisms, naturally you would after spending half of your academic career around the man. You noticed the way his jaw tenses ever so slightly, the smallest hesitation in his voice before he spoke, the way his grip on your ankle pulls away like your skin was made of fire and was burning his.

“No I’m sorry, that was a bit too mean, even for us.” You attempted to lighten the slightly soured mood with a small joke, hoping he wouldn’t take more offense at the jab. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you saw his lips twitch up slightly in that oh so familiar smirk that he always wore around you when he wasn’t scowling at you.

He waved his hand dismissively at your apology, before slowly passing around your room once more, this time stopping in front your small dining table, where you had been working on your homework earlier in the day. His hand coming up and grabbing the page and bringing it to eye level as he quietly went over the work. After a few seconds Miguel put the paper back down, a small tsk leaving his lips as he shook his head. You knew that reaction too well.

“What? Did I mess something up? You know I suck at quantum psychics…” You quickly stood up and made your way over to where Miguel was standing, his head turning to watch you in amusement as you limped as fast as you could to get to the table, putting your palms on it for support once you reached it. Saying you sucked was overdramatized, you were decent, knowing the basic understanding of it, which already had you ahead of a fourth of the class.

“You know you can ask me for help Muñeca, right?” God the cockiness that laced his words made your skin crawl. (Doll)

“Over my dead body.” You glared up at him, going to stand up straight as best as you could, gently hitting his arm with your hand (and ignoring the aching you felt in your hand after because apparently that man had zero body fat on him).

“Isn’t it too soon to joke like that (L/N)?” He asked with a light chuckle, causing your brows to furrow together in confusion.

“What do you mean-ohhhh.”

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @oharasfilipinawife @mxltifxnd0m @loser-alert @homewreckingwreck @dumb-gemini12 @cowboylikeevie @thedevax

[coryothesub]

Young President Snow being a sub literally kills me

I think I saw this somewhere else, but I'll ask it anyway (I love how you write): maybe President Snow is being threatened by his secretary or maid, perhaps, because of a video where he fucks his ass with a dildo (sorry for the obsession), forcing him to... No idea, my imagination ran out... Maybe being forced to ask the reader out on a date or something, the point is that will end in something else...

OMG ANON THANK YOU FOR COMPLIMENTING MY WRITING IT LITERALLY MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME!! Also this was so fun to write

nsfw / mdni / president!sub!coryo / secretary!dom!reader

“You called for me Sir?” You were standing before your boss aka the young President of Panem holding your tablet and ready to write down his orders.

“Yes,” he got up from his work desk and looked at you, smirking and curling up the corner of his mouth.

“I think it's time we get to know each other better… Come closer, doll!”

You weren't exactly thrilled about him calling you a doll, but you were curious about what he had in mind so you made a few steps closer.

“You look delicious in that silly little work attire of yours, I bet you would look even better without it,” he made a move on you without hesitation accompanying his lewd words by grabbing your derriere and squeezing your butt cheek.

To his great surprise the next thing he felt was a hard slap across his cheek, causing him to step back astounded by your unprecedented impudence.

“How dare you?” He muttered under his breath.

“Sit!” You grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him down on his chair. You sat comfortably on the side of his desk, enjoying his anger and confusion.

“Do you even know that attacking the President is considered a high treason? I'm gonna make sure you face the consequences!” Coriolanus spoke through gritted teeth, his face burning with anger.

“No, I won't… Unless you want that little tape from the bottom drawer of your desk to go public,” you gave him a cocky smirk. “You're so old fashioned Mr. President, still using a video camera to capture your little shenanigans…”

Coriolanus's mouth flew open at your statement. He felt a deep shade of red filling his cheeks.

“That's… That's impossible, I know for sure that it's still there.”

“Oh Coryo,” you gave him a pitying look. 

“I had so much fun watching it. Your slender fingers pushing a dildo up your tight, little hole like the pathetic little slut you are. All those lovely moans and whimpers coming from your mouth. I couldn't resist and made a copy. I know, I know, a little invasive, but since you were moaning my name the whole time…”

Coryo's eyes widened. He was now fighting for his life like a trapped animal.

“I will make you disappear before you even manage to leave this building!”

“Oh, don't worry, I figured that much. So I made a few more and gave them to people that are true patriots and trust their President. Unless I disappear. That might undermine their patriotism and who knows, your little video might go live before you even blink, Mr. President.”

Coryo looked so shook that you almost felt sorry for him. Maybe he deserved a little treat. You spread your legs just enough for him to see that you had no panties on.

Coryo's pupils dilated. You could see a wild mix of anger, humiliation and pure lust in his eyes.

“You're a terrible person,” he muttered, not being able to take his eyes off your delicious pussy.

“I guess we could say I’m learning from the best,” you chuckled and jumped off the table.

“We can still settle this like adults. But you'll have to behave.”

“I will,” Coryo nodded frantically. “What do you want? Money? A higher position?”

“I want you to take me out on a date.”

“W-what?” Coryo's face radiated pure despair.

“Are you out of your mind? I'm a married man AND the President of Panem! It would be a scandal!”

“A bigger scandal than your little tape going public? Imagine the unsuspecting citizens of Panem seeing their ruthless President bouncing up and down on a pink dildo whining and panting like a little whore…”

Coryo flinched at the thought. That sounded like his worst nightmare. He took a deep breath and swallowed thickly.

“Alright, we can have a date in my mansion. I will send a limo to pick you up tomorrow night.”

“Good boy!” You caressed his flushed cheek. Coryo leaned into your touch, feeling himself getting hard at your little praise. He crossed his legs instinctively making you giggle at his struggles. Who knew the President of Panem would find so much joy in getting humiliated by his own secretary.

***

The limo arrived to pick you up as promised. You were wearing a little black dress and high heels for your President. You had to look good while turning him into your personal sex doll.

Poor first lady had been sent away for a picturesque weekend in the countryside, Coryo had only his most trusted servants at the mansion. He couldn't let any rumors start.

You entered his lavish dining room, the lights were dimmed and the table was set. Coryo got up from the table to offer you a chair.

“You look gorgeous,” he tried to be as smooth as possible knowing full well his reputation was hanging by a thread and you keeping your mouth shut was the only way to save it.

You didn't reply. Just sat down at the table and started your meal. Coryo tried to keep it cool, yet he looked anxious and impatient.

He wondered if this would be enough for you to stop blackmailing him. But most of all he wanted to know if he's gonna get that sweet taste of humiliation again. But you were just keeping a casual conversation and that slowly drove him mad.

Finally you got up and walked around the table noticing a prominent bulge in Coryo's pants. You smirked and tilted up his chin.

“Now show me your cock, I wanna hear those pathetic little moans of yours.”

Coryo rushed to follow your command, pulling out his dick and starting to jerk off frantically. You bit your lip at the sight, his cock was long and handsome, it looked even better than you remembered from the video.

“Fuck, you're so beautiful!” he let out a series of desperate moans, watching you through half closed eyelids.

“I-I want to fuck you so badly.”

You let out a little laugh, enjoying his despair.

“You’ll have to do better than that, baby. Now stop!”

Coryo made a few more strokes before letting his cock out of his hand after you gave him a stern look. He had no choice but to obey. You both loved that.

He watched you as you pulled up your dress, revealing your bare cunt. You were not wearing any panties again, just a pair black stockings and matching garter belt. Coryo let out a soft whine at the sight, he needed to touch you so badly.

“Such a needy boy, huh,” you teased him, slowly straddling his thighs. Your dripping wet pussy was just mere centimeters from the leaking tip of his achingly hard cock.

“Beg for it!” You instructed.

“P-please I need…” he begged, his voice shaking and pleading.

“Need what? Use your words, doll,” you smirked at the thought that you were the one calling him doll now.

“I need to fuck you, please!”

“You need it because,” you said slowly.

“Because you are…”

“Because I'm a slut,” he whispered. “I'm a pathetic slut and I need you.”

You gave Coryo a flirty smile and slowly lowered yourself, sinking his hard cock inside your warm, wet pussy, causing him to let out a deep groan of relief.

You started fucking yourself on his cock relentlessly, realizing you both were already so close from the teasing alone.

He was filling you up so nicely as you kept riding him, clutching at the lapel of his jacket and enjoying the way he was looking up at you, his baby blue eyes full of adoration. He looked so pretty and pliant.

You grabbed a fistful of his platinum blonde hair and pulled his head against your chest, feeling his hot breath on your hard nipples as they were poking through the thin fabric of your black dress.

“Fuck, this feels good, your cunt feels like heaven,” Coryo whispered blissfully, caressing your thighs as you kept riding him.

“You have a nice dick, Mr. President,” you murmured as you kept bouncing up and down enjoying the feeling of his rock hard member stretching out your walls.

Coryo smiled at your praise, feeling his climax approaching as his cock twitched inside your tight cunt, causing you to let out a soft moan.

“Fuck, Coryo!” You smashed your lips against his in a wild kiss as you came hard on his cock, your pussy clenching around it in a tight grip.

The feeling of your tightness brought Coryo over the edge and you felt a hot, thick load of cum shooting up against your velvety walls, Coryo moaning and panting against your lips.

“You did pretty good, Mr. President!” You winked at him, climbing off his lap. You could see his nostrils flare as he noticed a small stream of cum dripping down your inner thigh.

“W-what about the tape?” He shouted after you as you were walking towards the door.

You let out a small laugh and glanced at him over your shoulder.

“Oh, the tape. I never copied it.”

[s0ap-bubbles]

Mk1 stays pissing me off so I’m gonna violently suggest things Dominik can do better in the future

(Under the cut so anyone who doesn’t wanna read it isn’t subjected to a petty teenager ranting lol)

1. Stop being a pussy and write some gay people properly. No more ancient rules bull crap that makes it impossible for them to be affectionate to each other.

2. I don’t know what the fuck you’re on Dominik, but why are you constantly creating random ass ships that were never hinted at or asked for. If there’s no build up, why should I care???

3. Learn how to use the multiverse concept effectively, cus the way you use it now is absolute dog shit. You’re telling me that every character from every mk game has their own timeline? EXPLORE THAT. Don’t just give me “liu kang but evil” cus we got that with the revenants, expand on what changed depending on the timeline he’s from.

4. Bros never heard of show not tell or something cus why is everything cool happening off screen, including now rain’s redemption??? Are you actually fucking stupid??? you had a whole dlc to expand on the things they talk about in the intro and you chose “hehehe havik universe so crazy look at Mohawks”

5. I get this is a new universe but bro. if you’re using iconic characters, at least respect their fucking origins. I’m aiming this at the absolute shit show that is the new bi-han cus there’s is no way you just made him comically evil and called it a day, then set up a redemption in the dlc, and then just made him a bigger bitch than before. Also the way you pushed kitana aside and reduced her to mileena’s cheerleader/support system was so shit as well. The only reason I bring this up is because kitana was leading a whole rebellion and becoming Kahn in the last game, and now you have her going “sister, please don’t do that… empress, please don’t kill them…” like…

6. I am BEGGING YOU. To stop writing Johnny cage like a mcu character I don’t think I can take it any longer fake laughing at his shitty quips. I love Johnny cage but oh my god he’s just been reduced to “funny reference man” and nothing else. Like there is no way he made a game of thrones reference during a literally deadly attack where multiple people had just been killed.

7. Your references suck, you suck, I hate you. Having characters reference other characters who aren’t in the game was cool until I realised that that’s all it is. A reference. These characters aren’t going to be in the game as dlc or anything going by the OBSCENE amount of guest characters, so who gives a fuck.

8. I’m just being petty now but Jesus Christ I hate how you wrote the new era. It’s a cool ass concept, but the way you wrote it was so shit, that I can’t even defend it atp. Change is a natural and necessary thing, but if this is your second time rebooting your franchise NRS and people STILL get mad over the story, I think it’s time to really look at what made the franchise special, and not try to replicate it, but put your own spin on it, make something new that still connects with your fans.

9. RESIGN. PLEASE.

[lawliet-ryuzaki-ryuga]

The Hunt

Shouma Toriashi X reader ( chapter 1)

Word count: 1163

TW: not really just so strong language…

Summary: life as we know it can change in an instant, and so do feelings and the people you meet.

MASTERLIST

A/N: HEY GUYS this is just a small project I wanted to start! I just got done reading the manga so I’m going to re-read it and hopefully I can better depict the characters better!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY ( p.s. DONT WORRY IM GOING TO HOP BACK ONTO MY OLD STORIES OF L AND LEVI! )

It was another day of school and homework on homework that’s been passed out.. I never understood why they bombard us like we don’t have other classes to work on.i look over to see Yoshino already walking towards my desk, with that I sit up straight ready to hear what she has to say .

“ hey Y/N do you want to come over? Shouma and I are going to study together?” Yoshino asks while putting both her palms flat against my desk and looks down at me.

“ oh yeah sure..” I nod in agreement. Behind me is shouma but he’s usually in his own world .

“Great, well I guess this is where we part ways, we’ll meet at the school entrance after this period.” With a firm nod Yoshino walks away and out of the once shared classroom we had. I stare at the class room door watch as students walk out together all looking the same as the other. Ever since I was younger I saw majority of everyone the same. Bland and simple, each face the same as the last.

At first glance people might look at us and think what an Odd group, then again we are really only each others friends. But it was for the first time that I saw people. I saw character in both Yoshino and Shouma. Deep in thought I shake out of it, and With that I get up and gather my things getting ready for the next class, physical education.

Oh how I dreaded that class, simply because it’s where both shouma and I lose our cool.

“ Hey” you kick Shouma’s chair to grab his attention. “ get up before we miss our last class.” With a look that could kill Shouma glared at me but gets up to follow.

I finally changed into the PE outfit but as always the bottoms are just too short. “ are you kidding Me I literally got then in a bigger size to hopefully be longer!! CURSE YOU ABNORMALLY LONG LEGS!”

You and Yoshino are one of the tallest girls in your class, in the whole school in fact and everything you’ve come to wear has always been an issue with length. With a sigh I muster up the courage to leave the changing room, and to my disappointment none other than Toriashi Shouma is waiting outside the female dressing room.

“Couldn’t find any shorter shorts Y/N?”

“Shut up Toriashi, these are the longest pair I have.” I huff walking away from him.

Today was a game of volleyball, not my favorite but one that i can stand. That is until I found out Shouma is on my team! Ugh I swear if I lose because of him, he’s dead meat.

“ better not fuck this up Shouma.”

“ Don’t worry, maybe if you had a bigger ass I’d be distracted.”

How dare he… that’s it he’s dead. I try to ignore his comment and walk to my center position like the team agreed on, waiting for the game to start.

During the whole game I could feel someone’s eyes on me, analyzing every movement. I should be used to it, considering being friends with Yoshino, she has hundreds of eyes watching her every move anytime we go out in public. But this gaze is different .. much different.

As the game continues on, And like always Shouma and I are fighting for dominance on our side of the court.

“ you idiot, I said it was mine! Why did you jump forward!”

“ because it was clearly in my side Y/N”

“ no it was not Shouma and you know it! You did it on purpose, there was no reason for you to be that close to my back!”

Mid game while we were taking the 3 min break trying to switch sides of the court, Shouma comes up wrapping something around my hips.

“ what are you doing?” I look down at what’s around my hips and up to the person who’s hands are tying The Jacket into a knot.

“ just keep it on”

“ Shouma you’re supposed to keep your arms covered” I whisper yell at him, I swear he never used his brain.

“Just keep it on.” He mumbles before walking away, with a sigh I just brush it off and try to focus on the game. Shouma has always been so annoying like my brother. Always trying to boss me around and oh does it make my blood boil. What makes me more upset is i always try my best to make sure he’s always covered at all times and no tattoos peak through, but he just doesn’t care.

The game finally ends and I walk up to him ready to hand him his jacket back.

“ here take it ba—.”

“ I said keep it on Y/A.”

“ the game is over, I’m giving it back to you now.”

“ No, go change, once you are changed you can give it back.” He grabs the sleeves of the jacket and ties it back firmly around my hips. I’ll be damned if he thinks I’m just going to listen to him.

“ I said take your damn jacket bastard!” I untie the jacket and chunk it at him and walk away back into the changing room. This man infuriates me, it’s not like I wasn’t Thankful but I will not be bossed around, especially by him! Who does he think he is , my father?

I quickly change out of my outfit and back to my regular uniform once I’m showered and clean. With that I grab my bag and belongings and walk out the changing room, that is until I see what looks like a fight about to happen.

“ Keep your eyes and comments to yourself.” Shouma is holding one of our male classmates against a wall. I can only imagine why this is happening.

“ Shouma that’s enough, let's go.” I grab his other hand that was free and pull him away from the poor boy. The thing about Shouma, he’s well behaved for the most part, but there are times where he’s a ticking time bomb.

“ This is why I tell you to cover up your tattoos, if you don’t want people looking Listen to me.”

“ and the next time I tell you to keep the jacket ,listen to me. There won’t be a next time actually, next time you’re wearing my jogging pants.” He fights back with an attitude in his tone.

“ Like hell I am, they are too big on me.”

“ i don’t care.”

“ I’m not going to wear them, focus on covering your tattoos and stop focusing on me.” I bite back with the same attitude.

“ and rather they focus on my tattoos and not on your whole legs!”

“ Hey, what’s going on guys? You guys can be heard miles away.” Yashino walks up to where I and Shouma are standing .

“ He’s blaming me that my shorts are too short. That’s what he’s complaining about Yashino .”

“ Excuse me ? Shouma do you think we want to be this tall where nothing fits!” Yoshino jumps into the argument.

“ I’m not blaming anyone, both you and Y/N need to just wear pants instead during physical education.” Shouma closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“ you don’t tell us what to do!” Both Yoshino and I yell in unison.

“ you know what… I don’t give a fuck , lets just go home for fuck sakes.” Shouma pushed through, leading the way back to both him and Yoshino’s place.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

hi!! i literally love ur atsv works(also the fact that you're a shifter too,,,like you're giving me so much content for my scripts <33). anyways, i was wondering if i could request an e42!miles x a felicia hardy/black cat variant(name doesn't have to by felicia hardy ofc) who's like a top art thief or something and prowler!miles meets them for the first time in the middle of a heist ?

I only watch the movies & am not really into the comics, so I don't really have an idea on the full character of felicia other than that she's a flirty cat burglar. So go wild on how you'd perceive her in earth42!

thanks!!

-🐈‍⬛

(Hello! lmao, shifting is amazing and these help my scripts and motivation also, lol. So sorry this took so long but I hope you enjoy!)

Felicia Hardy!Reader

You and Miles would have a certain dynamic

Like you guys would sorta be rivals, who could pull of better heists, missions, who gets caught least and who can go undetected and be the stealthiest

Shit like that is a competition to you two

Especially when you guys didn't even know each other

Miles heard about you on the news one day, and it seemed people thought you were pulling off better heists than the Prowler

Miles couldn't have that, no sir

So, he pulled off a bigger one, and this, rivalry began behind the masks

It was sorta entertaining, seeing how you never interacted but seemingly were so competitive

Miles was actually impressed on how you pulled off your stunts and heists

Especially if you hit somewhere big and got a lot of shit on the making

He never knew your plan, you never seemed to go somewhere personal or have connections to there

It seemed you just hit where you want and grabbed whatever was in your way

I think you guys could be great ass partners

And Miles was shocked to see that even Uncle Aaron thought so

Uncle Aaron thought you would be a good asset or you would be a good person to have to work with, not against

Miles was stubborn, of course, and don't wanna admit that he was right

Until he actually met you and came face to face with you

And not gonna lie, Miles was pretty much just staring at you

You seemed to pop up out of nowhere, just sitting on a rooftop as he busy out the door

He didn't even notice you for a minute, he was trying to flee from the cops that showed up and to be honest they got him pretty good on the side before he got to the roof

You actually reminded Miles of a black cat when he first saw you, which held true to the name people around the city gave you

You didn't help Miles out off the roof really, just wanting to see him in person to see if he held up to his name

He did, you got your answer and left with a smile

Miles couldn't help but watch you go before he had to leave himself

He told Uncle Aaron about the whole thing and his uncle laughed at him

Soon after, it seemed like you always were you the same place Miles was

Even if it wasn't a heist, even on his apartment buildings roof

He couldn't tell you were coming, or the amount of times you sat in the dark and watched as he had no idea

You have a habit or watching and sneaking up on him so much he's now looking over his shoulder

But after you guys get past that, you guys actually make a pretty good duo

Maybe crime fighting, maybe regular teens

Miles was not prepared on how flirt you wer

Sure he was shocked at how stealth and smart, but nothing could compare him for the amount of nicknames, and whispering you did to him

Or the fact you were so shameless about it all

He never got flustered, but somehow you always did that to him

He did it a fair amount back, but catch him of caught and babe it's so fun

I have nothing else so here's how you first met:

"Shit…" Miles cursed under his breath, holding his side as he stumbled out onto the roof, leaning his back against the wall.

He could hear police yelling to each other, the dogs barking as they tried to sniff him out.

Miles knew he wasn't about to be caught, he just worried on how he would get out of this without being spotted and followed back home.

Miles grimaced, hissing under his breath as he pushed off the wall, almost stumbling as he walked off to peer over the side of the roof.

Miles cringed at how many police cars say around the building, all ready for him to walk out. Like hell he would.

"Running outta luck?"

Miles almost jumped, turning around quickly in the dark. It took a moment before his eyes settled, finding a figure laying on their back, just above the roof where the door was.

You laid with your arms crossed under your head, turning slightly to look at him, almost amused and with a cat-like smile.

"How long have you been watching me?" Miles glared, but in his mind almost surprised, and impressed, at how long you sat there without him knowing.

You hummed, still smiling as you sat back up, throwing your legs over the edge.

"Since- like, May?" You offered, leaning onto your arm, throwing your head back to think.

Miles looked at you, half surprised and half shocked, trying to form what an actual sentence would mean before your eyes lit up.

You laughed at yourself quietly, knowing that's not what he meant, but loving the look of utter shock on his face.

"Yeah, sorry. Be more specific next time, sweetheart." You shook your head, hopping down from the small platform.

Miles could almost back up, but had nowhere to go, instead standing and watching silently through his mask as you walked towards him.

Your steps were quiet, calculated and almost careful, like a cat as you hummed, a look on your face he couldn't describe as you circled him.

You were looking over his suit, running your fingers on his suit, nodding to yourself as you felt the material.

Something about you made Miles unable to pull away, instead lifting his arm to give you more space as you ran your fingers around his body, stopping in front of him.

Miles was able to see the small smirk on your face, standing in front of him with your hand on the Prowler mark on his suit.

"So, how is the Prowler is stuck on a rooftop with cops around?" You laughed, looking up at him with the same smile.

"Not stuck." Miles denied, not looking away from you as you leaned in, getting a closer look at his mask.

"Oh, then poor you." You mocked, thumbing over his mask, as he surprisingly, didn't say anything about it.

"Why are you here?" Miles finally asked, getting another small laugh from you as you glanced into his eyes.

"Wanted to see if you were the real deal." You shrugged, your face close to his.

"Got what you wanted?" Miles asked, his voice cool and calm, sorta distorted through the mask, but watching perfectly as your hand slipped down.

You looked back into his eyes through the mask, studying almost carefully before you hummed, stepping back.

"Yup. Certainly." You laughed, standing on the edge as you held up a bag. One of the bags Miles had robbed.

Miles patted around his body, feeling one missing from his pockets, looking up to see you with a hand on your hip, holding it out teasingly.

Though it was Miles, he couldn't find it to reach out and take it, instead watching your proud smirk.

"Seems you were too distracted to know." You teased before Miles could say anything else, tucking the bag into your pockets.

"See ya around, Miles."

And with a final wink, you stepped off the ledge, leaving a stunned Miles in your wake.

"Hey- wait!" Miles yelled out, seeing you disappear as he hurried towards the edge, looking down and being shocked as he saw you nowhere around.

He could hear your laugh echoing around him, the bag missing from his side gone with you.

And, you called him Miles.

You were watching him for a while, for too long, and you knew too much.

Miles couldn't wrap his head around it, shaking his head as he thought over every second you stood in front of him, every moment leading up to this.

And the fact he never knew. Never knew you were there. Never knew you were watching.

Miles couldn't help but chuckle, impressed and shocked, looking around the dark for any sign of you, not that he would find it.

He needed to leave, he knew that, but maybe he could add one more thing to his list of shit to do.

From the way he could still feel your fingertips running along his body, the way you hummed, smiled or laughed, and the way you said his name,

Miles couldn't help but want to see you again

[questionableratatouille00]

ʜɪɢʜᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴄʜ. 5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an effort to get the two of you to bond, Tony Stark sends you and the ex-assassin Bucky Barnes on a road trip together. The problem? You hate each other. The situation? Two weeks in a car together. The reward: three days of a resort vacation. And the problem? He's kinda cute.

Warnings (Entire Series): Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, angst, fluff, crying, fighting, violence, chaos, mentions/talk of trauma, discussions of mental health, and potentially more.

Warnings: Enemies-to-lovers, cursing, sexual tension, talks of nightmares, eating and food, mentions of Bucky not doing so well, mentions of Bucky's trauma in general, and Bucky is probably written wrong. (Trying my best lmao)

A/n: Hi! So sorry that this came out later than expected, life is kinda kicking my ass right now. This chapter’s shorter than usual, but I wanted to at least put something out. I hope you enjoy!

||Part 4|| Part 5 || Part 6 (Coming soon!)

[Series Masterlist]

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

𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒆

🄳🄰🅈 3

You slept in the next morning, and Bucky didn't have the heart to wake you. Well, he did, but he felt bad for last night. He knew you were right. God, he knew. He regretted it. It was a stupid argument to even get into in the first place.

The two of you had a habit of getting into stupid arguments. Over little things, like you sitting in the chair he always sat in at the dinner table, or him eating the snack you were waiting to eat. Sometimes it was over bigger things, like who fucked up the mission, or who's fault something was.

He couldn't even remember half of them. He just remembered that he'd had them with you, and that you pissed him off. A lot. But even just for three short minutes last night, he thought otherwise.

"Who gives a shit?" Your voice echoed through his brain, and it felt like every other thought he could hear you again. As he got ready for the day, he heard it over and over again.

When you woke up, he waited patiently for you to pack up your things and get ready. Once you did, he took down both of the room keys as you loaded the truck. He let you drive this time, thinking that it was only fair.

“Remember when you first came to the tower?" You asked, eyes never leaving the road.

Bucky did remember. He remembered it clearly. He remembered Steve's reassurance every five seconds, he remembered the fear. He remembered staying holed up in his standard Compound bedroom. Nothing unique or special, no extra decorations. Cold and unwelcoming. He'd slept on the floor. He deserved it, he knew. The bed made him feel like he was sinking, anyway. Beds always made him feel like that. Even now.

He gave a simple nod as you continued.

"How long had it been? Since..HYDRA?"

"Two years." He'd been getting better, during those years. Kind of. He learned to make decisions again. He figured out an easy way to live. He didn't have very many memories back then. Newer, more recent HYDRA stuff. But then the whole Zemo thing happened, and it had basically reset the entire process. And then the memories hit. He knew for a fact that he didn't have them all, and he wasn't exactly sure if he wanted them.

You nodded in the driver's seat.

The car drive felt long. There wasn't much talking, which meant Bucky was left alone with his thoughts.

He remembered what it felt like, after Zemo had triggered the Winter Soldier. His mind was so used to operating knowing that those times had passed that once he was back, when he was Bucky again, his brain seemed stuck in that mindset.

Steve hated it when he said it that way. "You were always Bucky. You've always been Bucky. You're not a machine, Buck," he'd say.

He'd isolated himself from the team, terrified both of them and for them. He couldn't prove to himself that he wasn't some kind of monster, he couldn't prove that he wasn't a danger to the team.

Steve had treated him like he was made of glass, always being cautious and quiet and polite. Steve had introduced him to the others, who either quietly avoided him or pretended like he didn't exist past a simple 'hello'. Bucky didn't mind.

But you weren't like that. You treated him like he was just another guy, arguing and bickering with him. Sometimes he'd leave annoyed, other times he was glad that you didn't treat him like a glass vase.

Bucky didn’t mind that either.

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

You said nothing as you checked into two motel rooms. You couldn't get conjoined ones, so Bucky was just across the hall. The drive had been quiet. It was different, but a somewhat good kind of different. You hadn't argued, or bickered. You listened to your favorite playlist, and Bucky sat quietly.

Sleep came easily that night. You wondered if it was the same for Bucky.

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

🄳🄰🅈 4

It was not the same for Bucky. He'd been up half of the night trying to fall asleep. He hated nights like these. He had them quite often. Sure, they were annoying as hell, but he'd take them over a nightmare any day.

It was day four of the trip. That meant thirteen days left, and then the two of you didn't have to share a truck ever again.

“Let’s play a game. Or something.” You suggested. You were driving again, because you’d made it to the left side of the truck first.

“Like what?” Bucky questioned.

“Ever played twenty questions?”

Bucky shook his head. He hadn’t.

“The way Kate and I play it is that you just take turns asking questions until twenty questions have been asked. You can’t lie and you have to answer it no matter what.” You explained. Bucky nodded. It seemed simple enough.

“Okay. I’ll go first.” You decided. “Hm..are you left handed or right handed?”

This was an easy question. “I’m right-handed.” Bucky answered.

“That’s one question. Now it’s your turn.”

Bucky couldn’t think of a question. There were so many things he could ask, but he wasn’t sure what qualified as a good question. He could ask your favorite color, but would that be too basic? He could ask where you would want to live if you weren’t an Avenger, but would that be too personal?

“C’mon, it’s easy. First thing off the top of your head.” You encouraged.

“How did you meet Kate?” He decided on an easier question, at least to start the game.

“When Clint brought her to the Compound. She made a Shrek joke, and then it just kinda happened.” You explained. Bucky had no idea what a ‘Shrek’ was, but he just went along with it.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Before the war, before HYDRA, Bucky would’ve said blue. Sergeant James B. Barnes would’ve said blue. Blue like the sky on a sunny day, blue like the ocean on a tropical island far away. Blue like Steve’s eyes, blue like his sister’s favorite and nicest dress.

He still is that Bucky. Just..different, now.

“Pink.” He answered simply.

“Pink?” The way you echoed it wasn’t mocking, nor disbelieving. Bucky didn’t really know what it meant.

“Pink.” He nodded. Pink like the sweatshirts in the men’s section in stores, pink like the sky when the sun’s setting. Pink like Natasha’s old ballet outfit from the time where he trained Widows in the Red Room. There was no pink in HYDRA. He was sure of that.

The game continued, but parts of Bucky’s mind lingered on the subject. He had a favorite color. He was free enough and in control to have a favorite of something. And his favorite color was pink.

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

(My apologies if your blog couldn't be tagged- I have no idea why it won't work.)

Taglist: @afraidofshrimp @laughterafter @cjand10 @kandis-mom @emmsybucky @mrsnotfeelingsogood @matchat3a @identity2212

[sannieworldeu]

Midnight Kisses & Cuddles - C. San (One Shot)

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Choi San X Fem! Reader

Word Counts: 664!!!

Warning: Arm pinning, neck kisses and nothing more than 18+. 

a/n: I didn’t really go back and revised it so I apologize if there are any grammar and punctuation errors.

Summary:

Waking up to see your face being buried in his chest is the best feeling ever. Just then you realize that it is 2 in the morning and now you can’t go back to sleep. Which San, offers to help a little bit. 

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

The first thing you see when you wake up to a sound is your face being buried into your boyfriend’s chest. 

You got up midway to check what time it was, 2:05 am. 

Last night you were trying to clean the entire house before he came back but you felt very tired afterwards and didn’t wait for him since he sometimes doesn't even come home until the next morning. 

You wondered, when did he come back because  you knocked out somewhere between 10 or 11 pm you couldn’t even remember. 

You kept blinking and thinking about stuff that is keeping you up for a good 2 minutes in the dark. 

“Baby,” his voice immediately caught your attention, which caused you to turn back to look at him. His eyes were still closed. 

“Why are you awake at this time?” He asked with a deep raspy voice. 

You hate waking up during these times, you know damn well that the next day you’ll feel even more tired. 

“I don’t know, my eyes just opened. Why are you awake?” You asked him the same question laying back down to get buried by his chest again. 

He sighs, “How can I sleep when you’re awake? Huh? Come closer baby.” He laid his left arm for you to sleep on and wrapped it around your neck to hug your waist with his right arms. “This feels so much better” you can feel him smiling on top of your head. Looking up, curious to see his reaction, his eyes slowly open. 

“San..” you quietly say his name.

“Hmhh?” There it goes again, his smiles appeared. This time even bigger which shows the dimple of his cheek. 

“Our heartbeat, I can feel it syncing.” 

He started to chuckle and brush your hair through his fingers, “Well people say that when couples are close together they’re heartbeat and breathing begins to sync with each other. Like you and me.” 

“Pfft, so romantic….” 

“Tut! sss” His tongue clicked as his eyebrow furrows and looked at you. “Be quiet..go back to sleep.” He knew you hate hearing romantic and cringy words but he loves it. He loves seeing your reactions every time. 

“I can’t…now I’m fully awake.” 

You complained and started moving around. 

“Stop moving.” He said. 

“I can’t just fall back asleep.” 

“Stop. Stop it.” 

“No..”

“Tut! Stop moving!” 

“No!” 

You are now under his chest, face is buried in between the right side of your neck, wrists are being pinned by both of his as you can feel his breath getting heavier. 

“San-ah…what are you doing?” you lowered your tone, getting tickled by his breath whilst your body flinched at his unexpected actions. He pecked on your neck and smirked. “Let me kiss you to sleep then baby.” 

“But, aren’t you tired?” 

“Well what do you think? You don’t know how much I miss you not being able to see you for the whole day feels like a month.” 

You blinked and stared at him for a few seconds. 

How did you get such a fine ass man like this? 

You've always thought that you will be single forever and just accept it and raise a cat by yourself. But you are now being accompanied by the sweetest, kindest, nicest, loveliest guy. And out of all people he happens to be your boyfriend. 

“I wanted to do this early in the morning but I can’t wait. Don’t blame yourself. I made you wake up on purpose for this moment hehe.” 

You raised your eyebrow and gasped. “You!..please continue what you are doing.” You softly smile back at him and again he starts brushing and grazing through your hair strands. “That’s right, sleep tight and dream of me.” 

He slowly kisses your eyes, nose, lip and everywhere on your face until you fall asleep. A little smile appears on your face when you start dreaming of something. 

“Cute,” San whispers while patting your head. Carefully he lay down and cuddled you.