#as someone who has been able to hold for 2 1/2 weeks before it is the best fucking feeling to shit it out

[fangswbenefits]

Obsession

Summary: Miguel tries to convince himself that his obsession with you was justified, but fails miserably as you spend the night over.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessed and jealous Miguel. Inexperienced reader. Breeding kink. Sexual tension and frustration. Reader has nipple piercings.

Previous parts: 1 & 2 (you may enjoy this one separately, but might miss out on some context)

Miguel tried to convince himself that adding a mic to your digital suit was purely for safety purposes.

He really did try.

But he couldn’t keep from listening in when you first wore it on your way to the spider cafeteria.

He had just briefed a squad and was monitoring Nueva York through a multitude of hovering screens, as he stood on his platform.

Tapping quickly on the flickering surface, he was able to zoom in on you through the ceiling cameras.

You looked absolutely breathtaking.

The suit fit you like a glove and left little to the imagination. He was proud of his work. You deserved wearing something of his for everyone to see.

He saw you approaching a nearby table, taking a seat. In front of you were Jessica Drew and Peter B. Parker with Mayday who greeted you with warm smiles.

The sound of your voice echoed through the walls around him, as you extended your arms.

“Mayday! Baby! It’s so good to see you!”

The little girl broke into a giggle and began wriggling forward on Peter’s lap to reach you.

You promptly took her in your arms. “Did you miss me? Did you?” your voice was slight high-pitched and you wiggled your fingers, tickling her. “Oh, I have a present for her.”

“Really? That’s so nice of you,” Peter beamed.

“I don’t have it here, but I think she’ll love it,” you said, patting Mayday’s back lightly, earning a genuine hug from her.

Miguel felt his heart clench violently.

You were a natural with kids.

You were just too good to be true and he felt his hands clench tightly.

Would he ever be able to have you? To make you yearn for him? To breed you? To have children with you?

“Wait, is that a… digital suit?” Jessica’s voice cracked through the mic.

You had your back turned to him, so he couldn’t see your face, but he felt the warmth in your voice as you spoke, “It sure is!”

He groaned lowly.

There you were… his sweet girl.

“Who gave it to you?”

“Miguel,” you said with that tenderness he had grown to adore.

He could easily get addicted to you saying his name, and he could only hope that, one day, he might hear it a much more compelling setting.

“Miguel… O’Hara?”

You nodded.

From the screen he could see her exchanging looks with Peter.

“It looks really cool!” Peter smiled enthusiastically, inspecting your sleeves. “Wish he’d offer me one, too.”

Jessica chuckled. “Well, I’ve been here with him for months and he’s never given me one.”

Jessica…

It was to be expected. She was no fool. He had scouted her precisely because she was anything but that.

You had been recruited only three weeks ago, but the hold you had on him was tight. He had never felt this way before with someone else.

You straightened in your seat, as Mayday nibbled on your thumb. “Wait… do you think I should give it back?”

Miguel felt his heart jumpstart and panic build inside him.

“No — no! Jessica,” Perer shot her a glare who merely shrugged, before offering you a kind smile. “It looks great on you. Did you pick the colours?”

“Yes! I’m really happy with the final result,” you said, helping Mayday sit at the edge of the table, as you secured her with both hands. “It was his way of showing gratitute.”

Jessica snapped her fingers after taking a sip of her drink. “You’re helping him out with the portals, right?”

“We’re working on portal stabilisation and reduced motion sickness,” you said and he could almost taste the pride and passion in your voice. “We’re making some progress.”

Miguel had gotten used to the random erections you’d awake from him throughout the day. But this one felt particularly painful.

You were so smart and so devoted. He couldn’t even take credit for the progress, because it was mostly just you.

His sweet and clever girl.

He glanced down at the outline of his strained cock, clicking his tongue.

By the time his eyes settled on the monitor, Jessica had walked away momentarily and he saw Peter lean in.

“Hey… are you and Miguel… a thing?”

Miguel froze.

Mayday proceeded to wrap tiny fingers around some of his locks, tugging lightly.

He wish he could have seen your reaction.

“Oh! No! No… we’re just friends,” you quickly said, waving your hands rapidly. “He’s like a mentor to me, really.”

Anger flared inside him. A friend? A mentor? He knew deep down this made absolute sense, but it still made him seething with rage.

Peter didn’t seem all that convinced, but nodded. “Just wondering. He’s not usually this… kind?”

Miguel felt his fangs threaten to emerge as he gritted his teeth.

There had been nothing kind about him building you a suit. He hadn’t done it out of the goodness of his heart.

He wanted to claim you and this had been the easiest and safest way for now.

“Well, I know he’s a grumpy,” you chuckled with a shrug, as you patted Mayday on the back. “Maybe he’s changing?”

You wouldn’t want him to change. Not really. The level of devotion he had for you was unmatched and nothing you could ever have from someone else.

“Maybe you’re a good influence on him?” Peter concluded, tapping his chin. “As a friend, of course.”

“Peter….” he growled lowly.

“As a friend,” you nodded. “Besides, there’s…” but your voice trailed off.

His erection nearly immediately deflated as dread took over.

There’s what?

He turned up the mic’s volume, but winced instead, as you banged on the table.

You cleared your throat. “Well, gotta go! I have work to do.”

Peter took Mayday back into his lap and chuckled. “Don’t forget her present!”

“I won’t! Wish me luck, though,” you said, crossing your fingers as you started to walk away. “I really need these chips to stop blowing and melting on me!”

“Good luck! Say bye bye, Mayday,” Peter waved his hand, which the little girl promptly mimicked with a giggle.

“Bye, baby!” you beamed.

Miguel had had enough.

He switched off your mic with a tap on his watch.

He really had tried to convince himself that his obsession for you was justified. That is was rooted in more than lust and desire, but he wasn’t so sure anymore.

After you moved to Nueva York, he had you working closely to him on portal stabilisation.

But what had started out as something innocent, soon shifted into something else entirely.

Your company brought him peace and quiet, and ticket his brain just the right way to keep him motivated.

Until it didn’t.

Until you became his torment.

He had let you in his life in the hopes that you let him in yours.

The first time you gave him a boner was when he walked in on you in the lab, wearing nothing but a tank top and a pencil pressed firmly in between your lips, as you moved from screen to screen to check on the update progress.

The worst part? You didn’t even notice how utterly delicious you looked and how he could easily bend you over and take you right there.

No.

You just offered him a sweet smile.

One he hadn’t recovered from ever since.

“Miguel?”

He jolted as the voice snapped him from his torturous thoughts. “What?”

Lyla hovered nearby, eyeing him closely. “Fangs out,” she wiggled her index finger disapprovingly. “Pavitr and Hobie are waiting for you.”

His fangs retracted slowly as he tried to gain his composure back. “Why?”

“Mission?” she quirked an eyebrow.

Right.

“Now?”

“You’re already late.”

He growled, tapping on a few screens hurriedly.

“Oh, and Miguel?”

“What?”

The hologram popped near the screen to his left. “You might want to be more subtle when using her in-suit mic.”

He gave her narrow side-glace. “What do you mean?”

“Just saying,” she said, adjusting her heart-shapped glasses. “You’re not the only tech savvy spider here.”

The door to his apartment swung open at once, and he stepped inside ready to decompress from the tiresome mission.

He had made plans with some of your audio recordings and his hand, hoping that would be enough to easy the pent-up tension that had been looming over year throughout the way.

It was a less than ideal situation, but would have to do for now.

That was until he noticed his living room was lit.

Pacing rapidly he was met with you.

In the middle of a pile of papers and electronic components scattered around the floor, he saw you sitting cross-legged with a pencil danging from your lips, his digital suit clinging tightly to your body.

“What are you doing here?”

Your bead snapped in his direction and the pencil tumbled to the floor. “Miguel! Lyla let me in.”

He was rooted in place.

Had it been someone else, he would have flung them through the window with no warning.

But you weren’t just someone.

And Lyla wouldn’t have let someone else enter his apartment, either.

“It’s quite late,” he said, pacing carefully toward you as not to step on anything. “You could have called me.”

You waved a hand dismissively and held a circular metallic object in the other. “Catch!”

Before he could say anything back, you had tossed it in his direction, which he quickly grabbed in between his fingers.

“Found what was wrong with it,” you smiled proudly. “It was stupid of me, really. There wasn’t any thermal paste in it. That’s why it kept blowing up.”

Miguel stared at the chip in his hand and blinked a few times.

“I assumed you were using it from the start,” he said, inspecting the cross section.

You rose to your feet in an instant and joined his site, excitement spilling from you. “These ion batteries should not require thermal paste — not for this amount of energy, at least. But yeah… my bad,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck.

Miguel locked eyes with yours and felt a familiar tingle in his body.

Fuck.

You were just so ridiculously attractive, and he wish he could hear you ramble about tech and science for hours.

“This is really, really good news,” he said genuinely, handing the chip back to you.

He squeezed your arm lightly as encouragement, knowing fully well he should be rewarding you in other ways.

His sweet girl…

You darted back to the floor, gathering some papers. “Sorry for the mess. I just had to figure this out and couldn’t sleep.”

A scientist at heart, you were.

Blood began to rush to his groin in no time. It couldn’t be helped. His body had been so on edge to finally fuck you, that it was in this permanent state of arousal around you.

“It’s fine. I still have those moments,” he said softly, crouching to help you out. “Sometimes I can’t sleep, and I have to do something else.”

“Like what?”

“I either go to the lab, or…” I jerk off to the thought of being buried deep inside you, he wanted to say.

You eyed him expectantly, biting your lip lightly, further hardening his cock.

“Well, it’s a bit late,” Miguel eventually said, standing tall. “Maybe you should get back to your apartment?”

He hated himself for even suggesting such option, but he didn’t want to push his luck. You being here would be fuel enough for the rest of the night as he fucked his hand.

“Oh, you just got back from a mission,” you fought back a yawn, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “I’ll just leave.”

Miguel nodded, but was crumbling inside.

Your face lit up again. “But this was great, right?”

Please stay.

“You did great,” he said with a short smile. “Go get some rest.”

Please…

You made your way down the hall and waved at him. “See you in the morning, Miguel.”

He should have let you go.

But something took over him, before he could fight it back.

“Actually, you could stay. It’s nearly four in the morning,” he tried to sound as casual as possible, but the excitement was hard to contain. “And we have to head back to the lab early.”

You turned around and he stopped breathing.

Too much?

Then he the backpack slide down your arm, hittingbthe floor with a thud. “Oh, thank you! I really didn’t feel like swinging back to my apartment,” you voice held pure gratitude and he felt his ego soar. “Only… I don’t have any clothes.”

He shook his head as realisation hit him. “Right. Wait here.”

“Okay~”

Bolting into his room, he went through his closet, fetching a shirt and a robe.

But before heading out, he decided to change into some sweatpants and a shirt himself.

His erection welcomed the looser material, and he’d be able to better conceal it from you.

Taking a final look at his cock, Miguel decided to give it a few pumps as if trying to calm it down.

He couldn’t believe his luck.

He couldn’t believe his sweet girl would be so close to him in his clothes and apartment.

And bed.

As he exited the room and handed the clothes to you, he cleared his throat. “You can take my bed.”

You looked up at him. “Oh… no, Miguel. You just came back from a mission.”

“I’m not that tired. Just take it.”

Please.

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Anything that was his was yours. He would give it all to you.

“Be right back,” you said, before disappearing into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

He immediately sighed in relief, adjusting his cock, feeling the first beads of precum spill from the tip.

How was he to survive this?

Not long after, you emerged again.

He glanced over at the length of you, taking in the sight of his shirt and robe on you. Your legs were still covered with the digital suit, but you looked absolutely ready to be devoured.

But he couldn’t do it.

Not yet.

His cock twitched in his pants, yearning to be inside you.

Then something else caught his attention when his moved up your body.

It couldn’t be…

Two symmetrical protuberances poked through the fabric of your shirt — his shirt.

“Are those…” his voice faltered momentarily, not trusting his own eyes.

You followd his line of sight and giggled. “Oh! Yeah. Got them pierced way back. Wanted to defy my dad and got them out of spite,” you went on, adjusting the fabric of the shirt under the robe. “But eventually kept them. They look cute.”

Cute?

Miguel was at a loss for words.

Your voice mixed with your carefree posture sent jolts directly into his cock.

“I…” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I didn’t notice them before,” he said, feeling his mouth run dry.

“I was wearing a bra,” you replied with a shrug and a tender smile.

This was almost comically painful.

You were the closest thing he had ever known to innocence as of late. Yet here you stood, wearing just his shirt, no bra, and with your pierced nipples poking through his shirt.

But none of that seemed to matter to you.

You were completely oblivious of how painfully hard he was for you.

“Did it hurt?”

“Terribly,” you said, still glacing down at your breasts and hardened nipples. “But I think it’s worth it.”

The adorable way in which you said it was almost driving him insane.

Just how innocent could one person be…

Before he could even process his thoughts, he spoke, “Can I…”

Your eyes met his and Miguel feared he had now fucked it up for good.

Brilliant, Miguel…

“Oh, you mean… you want to see them?”

Should he back down and just deny his intentions?

“You’ve never seen nipple piercings before?”

He shook his head.

Just as he was about to tell you to forget it, you lifted his shirt, revealing your breasts to him.

He nearly exploded right there and then.

“Oh, please!” she giggled. “We’re people of science, and you haven’t seen this before. Science is all about curiosity and discovery.”

Miguel, however, wasn’t listening to any of that and felt as though he was hypnotised. He could tear his eyes away from your perky nipples and the metal rods that went through them, a tiny spider danging from each of them.

He wasn’t sure when or how he had got so close to you, but he lifted his hand to touch one.

His cock twitched violently and he felt his mind hazy with lust.

“They’re cool, right?” you beamed, allowing him to swipe the pad of his thumb across the tiny spider.

“Yeah.”

Really ‘cool’.

More precum dripped from his tip and had to fight back his fangs from slipping out.

He wanted to bend over and dart his tongue out to play with them. He wanted to tug on them and wanted you to arch your back with a soft moan.

You pulled down the shirt again and he flinched his hand back instantly, swallowing hard.

“So… if — when you have a baby and want to breastfeed… will there be an issue?”

Of course his need to breed you had to surface at the worst possible time.

But he had to know. He needed to know if that would be a nuisance. He couldn’t take any risks and he wanted you completely ready to carry his children.

You shrugged, adjusting the robe around you. “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead when I got them, but I suppose I just have to take them out.”

He nodded, taking a few steps back.

You stretched out with a yawn. “Mind if I go to sleep now?”

“Of course,” he nodded.

You were about to whirl on your feet, but decided against it. “How do you say ‘thank you’ in Spanish?”

That caught him off guard and his eyes widened. “Gracias.”

Then you gave him the sweetest smile. “Gracias, Miguel.

He could cum just from this alone.

How he would teach you the filthiest things in Spanish… how he would whisper them in your ear, knowing fully well you couldn’t understand a word…

You then slipped into his room and closed the door.

He ran both hands through his hair, wanting to let out a scream.

The things he wanted to do to you…

The things you deserved done to you…

He brought one hand down to tug at his waistband, revealing his soaked cock.

Then he bit the back of his other hand.

Hard.

He didn’t even care if he drew blood.

He couldn’t take this anymore.

Engulfed with overwhelming frustration, he pressed his forehead against the tall window that overlooked Nueva York.

He had to calm down, or else he’d have to synthesise a serum to lower his levels of testosterone…

He had to find a way to stop.

As minutes ticked by, he decided to check your bio readings on his watch. Your heart rate had lowered significantly, indicating him you were now asleep.

The predator in him took control again and he paced towards his bedroom, opening the door just enough to check on you.

Fast asleep.

He walked in with careful steps, finally taking in the sight of you on his bed.

The floor-to-ceiling windows allowed for the faintest moonlight to be cast on you.

He felt his heart was about to implode as he drew near, slowly sitting by the edge of the mattress.

You lay on your back, breathing evenly and covered up to your waist with a blanket.

Miguel took a deep and shaky breath.

You smelled of him and his bedsheets smelled of you.

Such a powerful and dangerous combination, that he almost considered gripping his cock.

Bur decided against it.

Instead, he say there, staring at you, absorbing every single detail of your body.

His hand twitched as an itch took over it.

An itch he had to scratch.

He reached out to graze the back of one finger along your forearm, feeling your warmth coating his skin.

His sweet girl…

His imagination ran wild and he had hoped he could have fucked you to sleep, not sliding out of you, making sure you’d take his seed.

Pain swallowed him whole as despair settled.

What if he never managed to make you his?

What if you decided you wanted nothing more than a friendship?

How could he cope?

Suddenly, you flinched and rolled to your side and heaved a deep sigh. “Oh, Tom…”

Miguel was left petrified and his blood ran cold.

Who the fuck was Tom?

Part 4

Masterlist

[runninriot]

Substitute Santa

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 22

prompt: Santa | rated: G | wc: 998 | tags: Eddie & Wayne Munson, single dad Steve Harrington, pre Steddie

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3 (+bonus epilogue)

"Thank you, son. This means a lot to me."

Eddie grumbles into the phone, says 'No problem, old man. I'm happy to help.' before hanging up, not really feeling his own words despite his uncle's gratitude.

Eddie groans loudly, head tilted back, eyes pinched close - he really should've just said no. But he knows how important this is to Wayne and for all that man has done for him, this really is only a small favour to ask of his nephew.

It's just- ugh.

The prospect of having to sit in a room full of noisy, snotty children for three hours, wearing that ridiculous costume, sweating his butt off underneath the suit, is one Eddie could definitely do without.

For as long as he can remember, every year, his uncle has dressed up as Santa for the Hawkins' annual Christmas charity event at the community centre.

This year, unfortunately, Wayne won't be able to make it because- 'How are the kids supposed to believe Santa will bring their gifts in time when he can't even walk properly?'

Because unlike Santa, Wayne isn't some kind of magical creature, so when he tripped and broke his foot, it meant cast and crutches and rest, even if he keeps forgetting that last part.

Eddie had already made plans to visit him for the holidays, but since his accident happened a few days ago, he decided to take some time off work and head home a week earlier. Which, apparently, gave Wayne the idea that, instead of asking one of the many other possible candidates, Eddie could take up his role this year.

'Keeping up the Munson tradition.'

So, that's what got him into this mess. And although he knows it'll make his uncle happy, he dreads it. Hates it. Wishes it would already be over so he can forget all about it.

The community centre is packed with people. There are little stands where they sell handmade goods and cookies and hot drinks. And at the far end of the room, right in front of the beautifully decorated Christmas tree, he finds the area where half an hour from now, he'll be sitting in the massive wooden chair that reminds him a bit of the makeshift throne he used to sit in while playing his favourite nerd game with his friends in the school's basement.

His DM skills will come in handy today; he was always good at acting, doing voices, and slipping into different roles - so passing as Santa should be easy as pie.

Maybe it'll be half as bad as he thought. Although he's still not sure about handling the kids. Or their parents. Because he knows how impatient and annoying they can get when they have to wait in line for too long.

Two hours in, Eddie is already on the brink of a nervous breakdown. The kid on his lap has been crying for 5 minutes, not wanting to follow his embarrassed mother's plea to 'just sit still and look at the camera'. It's not the first time this happens, and he's pretty sure, not the last.

He already had to bite his tongue multiple times not to yell at someone for cutting the line, or at parents for trying to force their kids to sit on this big, scary man's lap when they clearly didn't want to. No 'nice picture for Grandma and Grandpa' is worth traumatising a child. So Eddie makes sure to always ask the kid in question whether they want to sit or just stand by his side.

When Sobbing Charly's mom has finally gotten a decent enough shot, Eddie takes a deep breath and turns to the next kid in line.

It's a girl, maybe 4 or 5, looking at him with big, curious eyes from where she’s half-hidden behind her dad.

"Robbie's a little shy, sorry. We can just come back later, don't wanna hold up the line," the man says apologetically, and when Eddie looks up at him, he instantly recognises the face.

Standing before him is Steve Harrington, someone he hasn't seen in years, who apparently has a daughter now, and- wow. Eddie needs a moment to process it all. Because he might've had a little crush on the guy back in high school. Okay maybe a massive one. And seeing him now, looking somehow even prettier than he had back then, makes Eddie’s heart flutter.

He shakes himself out of it and turns his attention back to the girl.

"Don't need to be shy Robbie, I know you've been very good this year. Just like your dad. Right, Steve?" Eddie winks at the man whose expression freezes when he seems to realise who is hidden underneath the costume.

"Dad! Santa knows your name!" the girl says in wonder and Eddie has to bite back a laugh.

"Duh, I told you Santa knows everything," Steve answers with a smile directed at Eddie and suddenly the room seems much brighter than before.

Robbie comes out of her hiding spot, still holding Steve's hand tight.

"Can my dad be in the photo with me?" she asks and her big, hazel eyes make Eddie's heart melt.

"Of course, he can."

Before Eddie realises what's happening, he's got both, Steve and his daughter in his lap, cheering at the camera and- Eddie will definitely need a drink after that, if he survives this.

Once they're done, Steve stands up quickly, mouthing 'Sorry' at him, smiling his pretty smile again, and Eddie feels hot all over. Must be the costume, he's sure.

He tries not to let his mind wander to other scenarios of Steve in his lap, turns to Robbie instead, acting as casual as possible when he asks her what her biggest wish for Christmas is.

She thinks about it for a moment, before leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"I wish my dad would find someone that makes him happy."

Oh.

Well. Eddie would gladly make that happen.

[dadvans]

buck v. gerrard (season 8)

they'd probably play it for drama, but in a hypothetical break-up of the 118 where buck has to go report to gerrard, i can imagine him undermining gerrard in every way for pure hilarity:

gerrard tries to do the muddy boots on clean floor or chrome trick after buck is done cleaning. he gives buck a knowing look, but buck nods and is like, "don't worry, cap, i know the drill," then turns around and yells PROBIE! to get the new grad's attention, so he can delegate cleaning. the bigger problem is afterward when gerrard sees buck giving the probie a pat on the back, like, hey man, better than i've ever done it! look at that! great job! (Buck: 1, Gerrard: 0)

gerrard tries to make buck stay behind on-shift part one: buck does a full inventory, and when the truck rolls back in the house, buck is holding up new color-coded spreadsheets about regular inventory checks to be initialed by someone on each shift, x amount many times a week. surely, he won't be able to enforce it, but--

gerrard tries to make buck stay behind on-shift part two: when the truck rolls back in the house, buck has made dinner for everyone. "you hungry, guys?" he calls down. everyone goes upstairs to see a gourmet fucking meal, and the only thing that isn't absolutely spotless in the entire firehouse is buck's apron and the towel he has over his shoulder. gerrard, pissed, goes to eat his cold leftover pizza in his office, alone. (Buck: 2, Gerrard: 0)

so, after that, everyone is adhering to buck's inventory management schedule (Buck: 3, Gerrard: 0)

gerrard starts bringing buck on calls so he can't undermine him anymore, and he's heard about this kid, he's a disaster magnet and he doesn't always follow protocol, so maybe he'll be able to exercise his authority, find a clear cut path to a suspension or even (he tries not to be too hopeful) a termination. the only time buck goes against protocol is when a beam in a warehouse fire unexpectedly falls and pins gerrard to the floor when they're supposed to be evacuating, and buck's the one who turns around and saves him. (Buck: 4, Gerrard: 0)

gerrard wakes up in the hospital. buck is sitting there, fusses over him, and then in the gentlest way possible tells gerrard he's on administrative leave because of the shoulder, but it's ok! buck's been there before, i mean, when he was much younger so he's not sure what coming back from that's like at gerrard's age. before he leaves he's like, oh, and one more thing. takes out his phone, gets next to gerrard and snaps a selfie of the two of them. he then looks at the photo fondly, says, "ha. tommy's gonna love this one. okay, see ya, cap!" and leaves. (Buck: 5, Gerrard: 0)

[hiraethwrote]

angel - suguru geto

[ suguru geto - f!reader ]

✧ summary: left heartbroken after your boyfriend leaves his entire life behind, destroying everything in his path, you try to go back to a normal life. until youre silent wishes has come true, and you see him again ✧ cw: canon events from hidden inventory, HEAVY angst, mentions of murder, established relationship, no use of y/n, featuring platonic!satoru ✧ word count: 4.2k

part 1 - part 2

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Slumping down the brick stairs, you kept your gaze on the hunched over figure, sitting on one of the bottom steps, facing the sun setting in front of the two of you.

“Didn’t take you long to find me,” Satoru sighed as he straightened his position. Taking a seat two steps above him, you wrapped your arms around your legs in hopes you’d physically be able to keep yourself from falling apart.

“I’ve been searching for you all day so,” you trailed off.

Both of you stared absentmindedly at the sunset, and you couldn’t remember ever being graced by such a beautiful view. Too bad it felt like such a waste, unable to enjoy the genuine beauty of it because what was the point? Your entire world had been turned upside down, to the point where you didn’t really recognise it.

“I assume you talked to him,” you would be surprised if Satoru even managed to make out what you said, barely audible words slipping past your lips. He didn’t answer you, but the deep sigh that left him gave you confirmation he heard you. “Yaga told me—“ a gut wrenching sob killed the sentence in your throat, the reality finally starting to set in. Pressing the palms of your hands to your eyes, you were hopelessly trying to stop the waterfall of tears that were streaming down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Satoru spoke in an uncharacteristically low voice. Every inch of you wanted to find the strength to stop the violent sobs so you could answer him, desperate to talk to someone who might actually be able to understand how you felt. But there was no fight left in you. For the past weeks, as things had escalated, you’d denied yourself the privilege of crying. You had tried to fool yourself into believing that the longer you held back your sorrow and cries, the longer you could live under the impression that all of this wasn’t real.

Sadly, the time of living in naive hope was over. Even though you so desperately tried to cling onto this delusion, it was slowly but surely slipping away from you. Now you were facing the heartbreaking truth; the love of your life was lost. The unspeakable things he had done causing him to deviate from his life, from his friends, from his future. From you.

To top it all off, what had happened was on the lips of every living person in the Jujutsu world. The promising and strong Suguru Geto had killed one hundred and twenty people.

“He looked so…” Satoru said. “Like himself.” The sadness was written all over him, just like it was with you. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill him.”

A few more deep sobs escaped you before you managed to find a rhythm where you could be able to hold a conversation. “I didn’t expect you would.”

Finally he turned to look at you, and you met his glossy stare. He’d been crying, as proven proven by the red and puffy line under his eyes, but now his voice was remained as calm as earlier. “I’m so, so sorry,” he repeated.

“This isn’t your fault, Satoru. How could you have known?” You sniffled. “We tried the best we could.”

“Did we?” You could sense a hint of desperation in his steady voice, evident that he solemnly felt like he was the one to blame. “Didn’t he show us signs?”

Thinking back, there were definitely signs. After everything went down with Riko, Suguru had rapidly been losing weight, the bags under his eyes had gotten more prominent and his hair looked lifeless compared to before. Not to mention his smile. His sweet and precious smile, had disappeared more and more over time.

“He shut us out. You tried to ask him — we both did. He didn’t want our help.” You didn’t even believe your own words, blaming yourself just as much as Satoru did himself. There were so many things you could have done differently, like forcing him to talk to you.

“Guess you’re right,” he answered breathlessly before returning to gaze at the sun again, the golden light illuminating his face. He didn’t believe you either.

“Do you know when I last talked to him? The last time I heard his voice?” Satoru simply shook his head, attention locked in front of him. “Eight days ago. And another nine days before that since I actually saw him.”

Your face scrunched into a grimace thinking of the memory, the tears yet again starting to fall. Instinctively covering your face with both your hands, you pictured his face in your head. You had memorised every single detail of his appearance, forever burned into your mind. And the soothing vibrations of his voice that you missed so dearly.

With a sharp sniffle, you shook your head to regain some stability in yourself before opening your mouth again. “Did he mention me?” You’d dreaded asking the question, but you needed to know. Satoru licked his lips before taking a deep breath to answer you.

“Yeah, he did.” Your eyes widened, not expecting that answer. “He wanted me to tell you-“ Satoru cut himself off, hesitating to finish.

“Satoru,” agony lacing your voice, needing him to complete his sentence.

“He wanted me to tell you he was sorry, and maybe you could find it in your heart to forgive him.”

Silence embraced the two of you as you tried to digest what he’d told you. Time stopped as you had your eyes fixated on your friend, unable to comprehend his words.

“That’s it?” You whispered. His head moved in a careful nod, causing the tears to start falling again, but they’d turned quiet.

“He loved — loves you,” he corrected himself, which earned him an instant scoff from you. One that undoubtedly stemmed from pure hurt.

“Clearly not enough.” Even though you said it mostly to yourself, you felt Satoru’s gaze burn on you, letting you know he heard you. “Both you and Shoko met him and talked to him, while I-“ you had to focus for a second to not let the sobs hinder your words. “Why not me?”

“I think you know,” he sighed as he moved himself to sit on the same same step as you, closing the gab between you as he placed a sympathetic arm around your shoulders to hug you closer.

Satoru was right, you just didn’t admit that to yourself. It was easier to accept a lie that the reasons for avoiding you was because he didn’t love you, and not the other way around.

With another quiet sob, you leaned your head on his shoulder and trying to take some comfort in his hand tenderly stroking up and down your arm. And it worked. For the first time since everything had happened, a tiny feeling of calmness set roots within you. It had been an all too foreign feeling lately, so you were thankful you were able to find it with Satoru.

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You had tried, to the best of your ability, to accustom to a life without Suguru. It had been anything but easy, living in a constant state of ignorance.

Every single person he had cared for, had gotten some sort of closure in a final conversation with him. While you knew absolutely nothing but the rumours that traveled like a plague through the community, and you never knew if anything that was being spread was even true.

While everyone had something to lean on in order to start moving on, you were stuck on the last time you saw him, where he had lied to you.

Yet again, you had asked if he was okay, genuine concern weighing heavy on you. “I promise you, I’m fine.” He’d said it so calmly, so truthfully, while he had held your face in his big hands and placed a loving kiss on your forehead.

How could you do anything but believe him? When the person you loved and trusted the most in the world, was looking you in the eyes and reassuring you that you had nothing to worry about?

After that interaction, it seemed you missed him by just a few minutes every time. Everyone else; Satoru, Shoko, everyone, met him in small flashes in the period before the massacre, which only made things worse. It was hard to accept you were the only one he was shying away from.

And now, three months had passed since that cursed day. Three long months, where just waking up had become a battle. Because it wasn’t like he had just broken up with you. No, he had gone down an unthinkable path and left you standing in the dust without a word. But you tried your best to just go by your everyday life, going to school and missions, trying to hang out with the friends who hadn’t abandoned you.

But even in your best attempts, you were constantly losing the fight against the ever growing loneliness inside you. More often than not, you found yourself alone doing meaningless activities like walking around empty streets of unfamiliar suburban parts of Tokyo, or taking a random train without purpose from one destination to another just to fill the time.

Like right now, where you we’re patiently waiting for the next train to pull up in front of you. Comparable to so many times before, you’d just sit down on the train and look out the window until it reached its end station.

In the later hours of the afternoon, the wind had gotten significantly colder and you deeply regretted not bringing a thicker jacket. You tried, with little success, to block out the chilly wind that blew quietly through the platforms.

However, your habit of just observing your surroundings served as a nice distraction. Letting your attention travel around you, you took in the intricate architecture, the chirping birds resting on the tall railings, observing the few people scattered about when you spotted a face you knew all too well.

It couldn’t be…

Almost certain your heart would stop at the sight, you pinched your sides trying to wake up from what had to be a dream. Ouch. No, not a dream. Then it had to be your mind playing a cruel trick on you, a hallucination formed because you had such a huge desire to see him again.

Was it actually possible that he was staring back at you from the other platform, mere feet from you? Was it real that you could see the slight tug at the corner of his lips? You didn’t have much time to think as the trance was broken when a train came rushing in in front of him.

Without a second to waste, your feet acted on their own and began to carry you as fast as they possibly could to the opposite platform. Storming down the stairs, paving through the scattered crowd underground before sprinting up the stairs, two steps at a time. Heaving to catch your breath, you stood in the exact spot you swore you had seen him but he was nowhere in sight.

“Please,��� you whispered to yourself, running your hands through your hair in despair, frantically looking around you.

Suddenly you froze in place when your eyes landed on him, standing just a few steps away from you. It felt as you’d forgotten how to breathe, looking at the person who once used to stand so close to you, and over night had become a stranger.

He had half of his dark hair tied back in a bun, his usual bangs hanging over his forehead, looking healthier than he did the last time you had seen him. His cheeks weren’t as hollow, the dark circles under his eyes had disappeared and his skin had gotten its colour back.

“Good to see you again, angel.” Crash-landing back to reality at the sound of his nickname for you, without thinking, you leapt for him, throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug, like you’d be able to prevent him from slipping away again. He barely even stumbled at the impact of your attack, feet still planted safely on the ground as his arms immediately wrapped around your waist in response.

“You’re real! You’re here,” you breathed in awe. You could feel his chest take a deep breath before burying his face in the crook of your neck. The fear of letting go was strong, but it didn’t trump the dire need you had to see his face to know he was actually real. Pulling away, he carefully loosened his grip on you before you grabbed his face without hesitation, staring endearingly at him, taking in the fact that he was indeed standing right in front of you.

There was so many things you wanted to say to him, but your mind was running faster than your mouth, strangling all the questions you had, once another one popped into your mind. Opening and closing your mouth over and over, you stayed quiet, eyes flickering between his.

“Never thought I’d see you again,” he spoke softly. This wasn’t how he had sounded the last few weeks before the tragedy — no, this was the voice of your boyfriend. Your Suguru, not som murderous individual on the run.

“Well, neither did I- I mean, you sort of left me,” you stuttered, feeling your shoulders sink as reality started to wash over you.

“I know.”

Slowly, your hands trailed down his face, his neck, before you let them rest on his chest. Even though he appeared to be so calm, you felt his heart beat against his chest with incredible force, like it was running from something.

“Uhm, where,” you cleared your throat. “Where have you been?”

“In hiding, I suppose. Leading them.” You tried to hide the flinch it caused to hear him say it. Even though he didn’t say it explicitly, it felt like a confession to his crimes.

“And you’re okay?” He nodded slowly, like he genuinely believed his own words but knew you needed further convincing. “You look better.”

Suguru mumbled a small thanks, before he was unable to resist the urge of cupping your cheek, letting his thumb travel back and forth on your cheekbone, capturing some of your soft hair between his hand and your face.

Looking at you now, it felt a lot like the first time he’d met you, looking bewitching as always, despite the fact you looked tired. Even though your features had been tainted with weariness, you still had that special something about you that made him speechless.

What pained him, however, was how he could sense the stress his presence caused you. It was clear as day you were trying your best to suppress the uneasiness you were feeling, but you sadly failed to completely hide the fact that he unnerved you. It made his stomach turn, because he’d never wanted to make you feel anything but safe and loved.

“How are you?” He asked. It was a stupid question, but he couldn’t find any better way to start the conversation after all that had gone down. Watching you closely, he saw you began to nod your head, a little too frantically for his liking, as your fingers began to fidget with the fabric of his shirt.

“As well as I can be,” you didn’t necessarily stutter anymore, but you knew there was a quiver in your voice that he picked up on. “It’s been hard, you know.”

Silence overcame you, as neither could find the right thing to say. No words seemed to be able to bring justice to the messages you wanted to tell the other. Fixating your eyes on your own fingers, still picking at his clothes, you searched your mind for a way to phrase your feelings without breaking down and saying the wrong thing.

Suguru beat you to it, “you must have a hundred questions.”

Carefully tilting your head upwards to meet his eyes again, some of your nerves relaxed out of habit. “Yeah, I do.”

“I’ll answer anything you need me to.”

Once you started to figure out what to ask him, you became insanely aware of your body. Any inch of you that was in contact with him had ignited, like your skin was burning. Suddenly it felt wrong to give him the comfort of your touch after everything he had done.

“It’s all true right?” You swallowed the lump in your throat, slowly pulling away from his embrace and wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself. “What you did in that village?”

“Yes,” he answered simply. He straightened his posture, acting like your recent touch hadn’t had an impact and on him. “Does it scare you?”

You thought about it for a second, holding his gaze captive. You knew what your answer should be, but even though you were uncomfortable with the reality, no part of you were scared of him. You just couldn’t be, having him look at you with those eyes that had always been honest with you and let you know how much he loved you.

“No.” He couldn’t hide it — you saw a small relief travel throughout his body. “Why'd you do it?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard the story.” His demeanour had turned colder after you’d taken a step back, which caused you to find it in you to match his behaviour more.

“I want to hear it from you.”

With a clear of his throat, he found a confident stance. “I no longer believe it is right for Jujutsu sorcerers to serve non-sorcerers, clearly inferior to us.”

“Is that right?” You challenged him, crossing your arms over your chest. You still held his gaze, without a word, denying him the privilege of looking away from you as he tried to justify killing all those people.

“How does it make sense that the weak rule over the powerful? And that without the slightest ounce of appreciation?”

“You don’t think we have a responsibility to protect those who can’t protect themselves?” He just slowly shook his head, more in disbelief than an answer.

“But aren’t you tired?” Not entirely sure what he meant, you squinted at him to elaborate his question. “Doing the same thing over and over, exhausting yourself as you risk your life for people who don’t even care if you live or die?”

“Of course I am. We all are,” you spoke softly, not having it in you to raise your voice at him. “But that doesn’t mean we can just kill people.”

“You weren’t there. They had it coming.” You could hear the words coming from his mouth, but it just didn’t seem like Suguru.

“No, I wasn’t there. And that’s because of you.” Finally you managed to draw out a physical reaction from him as he flinched at your words.

Maybe he had been callow to think you had accepted his departure — that you understood. How could you? He had been unreasonable when he’d decided to just leave without a word or explanation. He knew all that, but at the time he hadn't posessed the strength to face you at that time, knowing he’d be destroying you in the process.

“Why, Suguru?” You’d turned impotent to keeping your emotions in check, the quiver in your voice had shifted into sternness, your tone raising ever so slightly. “Didn’t I deserve any explanation? How come you talked to all the others but me? I tried so desperately to get through to you, but did you care so little about me that you found it easier to just leave me stranded?”

“Is that what you really think?” With big, sad eyes, he stared at you. The confident and strong presence that was visible just seconds ago had transformed into one of innocence, reminding you of the boy you loved.

“Can you blame me?”

“Angel,” there it was again, his nickname for you rolling of his tongue as easy as breathing, making you close your eyes to shut out the tears that had started to form.

You didn’t feel worthy of it anymore, when the sole reason he’d given it to you was because, in his words, you’d saved him. You had come into his life, a light and kind presence that genuinely only wanted the best for him. With just being you, you’d given him the support he needed to go about his life. Whenever he’d needed reassurance or support, he hadn’t hesitated to seek it from you. And you had always given it to him without a single hesitation, no matter how silly the situation might have been.

But this time you’d failed him. When he had needed you the most, you hadn’t been able to help him and he’d crash-landed, destroying everything in his vicinity — literally. You should have been more persistent, forced him to let you help him, been the person he expected you to be.

“I would have been the death of you,” he said weakly. Opening your eyes again to meet his gaze, the first silent tear fell from your eye.

“I’d let you.”

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if that was the case.”

“Suguru, I-“ your voice cracked. “You just left me!”

“I know,” cautiously he stepped closer, waiting to see if you’d stop him, before he gently placed his hands on your biceps. “I couldn’t face you.”

Letting your stare flitter across his face, you debated whether you should dig further to get the answers you were seeking. “Would you have asked me to join you.”

“Yes.”

The word left his mouth almost before you’d been able to finish your question. In the time apart, you’d only tortured yourself with what the reason might have been, and always concluded with ‘he doesn’t really care about you’.

But this seemed to be confirming the opposite, what you had refused to believe.

“So I avoided you, knowing I wouldn’t have been able to hold my tongue.” Taking a deep breath before continuing. “It would have been nothing but selfish of me to ask you to come along.”

“But-“

“Would you have said yes?”

Opening your mouth to answer, the words instantly died in your throat, just a hoarse, low squeal escaped you. His intense gaze staring holes into you, seeing right through you. What did you expect? No one knew you better than he did.

You did not want to admit it, but you knew the answer would have been yes, without a shadow of a doubt. Imagining the scene, him capturing your hands in his, begging you with his eyes and you’d say yes. Based on the slightest off chance that it could help him one way or another, you wouldn’t even have hesitated.

“That’s what I thought,” he sighed and stroked your hair. “As much as I believe in this cause, I couldn’t let you go down this path, weighing down on your conscience. You’re too good for this life.”

“So are you!” You uttered in desperation, hot tears falling from your eyes. “You’re good, Suguru. You’re kind, and strong, and brave. This isn’t the life for you.” Scrunching his shirt up in your fists, tugging at him in hopes he would surrender to your plea.

A weak smile painted his features, appearing so innocent. “It is. This is what I believe is right.”

“No, no, that’s not true! You don’t want this, you’re just tired of the same thing every day!” A low sob escaped in between your grovelling. “Just come back with me and we can fix this.”

“Oh, you’re too good for me,” he sighed and leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours, soothing the bouncing of your shoulders. “You know that’s impossible.”

You didn’t let him lean on you for very long, feeling like you had a better chance to convince him if you looked him directly in the eyes. “We’ll convince them! Satoru’s the strongest now, they’ll do as he-“

“Hey,” he sushed you in a respectful manner. “You know they’ll execute me if I am to return.”

“Then why did you come here?!” You snapped at him, as the tears continued to fall. Letting go of his shirt, you pushed him away from you. “If you’re so dead set on this god awful mission, why did you come to see me?”

“Because even when I try not to be selfish, I fail.” Stifling your sobs, your focus was fully dedicated to his explanation. “It would be unfair to you to let that be the last time we spoke.” A silent scoff slipped out, followed by continuous sniffling. “And I miss you,” he trailed off before once again approaching you, sliding his hands up your face, ignoring the tension in you.

“Please come home,” you whispered, even though you knew it was a lost cause.

“You know, you’ve always been the best part of me.”

Letting the tension slip away, you knew you’d regret it if you let this moment be a hostile one. Somewhere inside, you knew this would be the last time you met him on terms like these. If you ever were to cross paths again, you were sure it would end a lot bloodier.

“Continue to be the best part of me, okay angel?” With a reluctant nod, you dried your nose with the back of your hand and rapidly blinking away the tears.

Suguru didn’t say another word, he only leaned forward. You instinctively closed your eyes when you felt his lips place a loving kiss on your forehead.

Then his hands slipped away from your face. You kept your eyes shut for another ten seconds, and when you finally dared to open them, he was gone.

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tags: @alisstaa (you requested to be tagged in jjk angst, so i just thought, hope thats okay <3)

a/n now i dont like this as much as i wish i did, but ive been heavy in the angsty corner. i started this before the chapter leaks, so i wanted to finish this first. but my poor gojo heart needs something to hold onto after 261 :,) so im already in the process of writing a hefty one i think thankful now that im a maurauders fan so im used to not give a shit about canon. the crazy gojo stan in me needs that rn

reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated

plagiarism not authorized

[yaut-jaknowit]

Hiya! Was wondering about a bad blood that takes a woman from earth but she's fine with it? He expected more fighting from her but is pleased. Not sure how you feel about soulmates but maybe he's been drawn to her for awhile and finally just took her?

Are We Meant To Be? Part 2

Pairings: Cew’voc (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 2995

Summary: So much time has passed since you last saw that mysterious figure. He saved you then abandoned you. You had discovered he was your soulmate too late. When all hope was lost, he comes back to you. Is it too late?

Author Note: Okay, I know this isn't entirely what you were asking for. But, I hope it's still okay. If not, let me know and I do another for you. I wanted to use this as an excuse to write a part two for this story.

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1

All the years since that faithful day offered no relief. Since then, you’ve had your ups and downs. From ending up jobless and homeless, you were able to barely bounce back to a decent life. It wasn’t normal. It would never be normal again. Not without what you saw that night. Who or whatever that creature was… he was yours. As much as you were his. Two souls destined for one another.

The reminder made your heart ache. You gritted your teeth and rubbed the heel of your hand over your sternum. Some of your co-workers gave you a puzzled look before shaking their heads and going back to their business. You cleared your throat before squaring your shoulders to face the lobby and customers all over again.

A pain that’ll be with you till the end of time. You were used to it.

Twelve hours in the building was an average shift. It was the minimum you needed to work five days a week just to make do.

From living an average, normal life, meeting what had to be your soulmate had ruined everything. Despite the longing to see him, just a glimpse every so often, there was no chance. He abandoned you. It was unheard of. Usually soulmates for the first time they meet each other can’t leave each other. Some say its physical and others say its emotional. But to break apart within even the first day was beyond cruel. It’ll leave someone, yourself, broken and hollow.

That’s exactly what you are. A shell of the person you used to be. Now, here you were, a beggar for any change, even a penny. It could mean the difference between having a roof over your head or being homeless.

No one wanted you. Not even someone destined to be with you until you died.

The plates in your hand wobbled precariously. Your attention returned to your surroundings only to watch the four plates you had been carrying slip off of your arms. They came crashing down onto the ground. The porcelain shattering into tiny pieces at your aching feet. Food smears across the ground.

In the moments after that, you could only look down at the mess you’ve created. Your shoulders slumped. There was gasps that sounded through the lobby of the diner you worked out. But, you heard nothing. Stuck in your own world again while all you could do was look at the disaster at your feet.

This was it. Your last straw that broke the camel’s back. It seemed like you couldn’t hold down a job anymore. The pains in your chest only growing worse with the passing time. No one understood. This didn’t happen. Worst of all, it’s not like you had any insurance to work with. There was no help. All you did was suffer through the pain.

Over the white noise in your ears, you heard your name shouted at the top of someone’s lungs. Avery. Your boss. She came stopping around to stand in front of you with a heated glare in her eye. You simply lifted your head to look at her, dead and emotionless.

Her gaze flickered for a moment but returned to steel. One of her hands whipped out to point towards the door. “Get the fuck out of my establishment. You’re fucking useless,” she bit out with a ferocity you didn’t know she had. You blinked at her before finally picking up your feet and making your way to the door. Not even clocking out or taking off your apron.

There you had done it again. Lost another job. Useless. Just like she said. You couldn’t do anything right. Not even your own soulmate wanted to stay with you.

The concrete was harsh on your knees despite the jeans you were wearing. You had collapsed in the middle of the sidewalk. No one gave you a second glance; only giving you a look of disgust and going on their way. A broken sob left your chapped lips. The world around you closing in. You tilted your head backwards to gaze at the darkening sky.

It wasn’t long before day morphed into night. Sometime during the transition you had pulled yourself up and meandered along the path set in front of you. It was random and leading you further and further from the dingy apartment called home. The city you resided in offered nothing of relief. It allowed you to stay on a decently lit path through the side of town you resided in.

In your heart, something tugged you to stop. Your head finally picking up to find the street deserted. You had walked so far that not even those brave enough would venture out. A whine built in the back of your throat. This was pointless. Now, you were somehow lost. Your head tilted back to look at the dark sky. There was little to no stars that would dot the night sky. “What am I doing?” Your voice was hoarse. It lacked the warmth it had years ago.

All the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. The muscles that lined your back tightened. Your breath caught, body prepared for the worst while your mind hoped for the best. But, your luck has shown you how well that’ll go.

You neck creaked while it turned towards the dark alleyway. Nothing could be seen down the endless path. Either it turned off or ended towards the end.

A loud thump echoed off the walls. Your entire boy turned towards the entrance. The soft clicks of something entered the air. Your brows furrowed while you tried to deter was creating that noise. In your careless state and defense, you weren’t of sound mind. There was one thing in the world that would solve all of your issues.

It wasn’t here.

At the crest of the entrance, you eventually spotted the silhouette of a humanoid figure. Oh, not again. You took a couple of stumbling steps away and nearly fell over your own two feet. It seemed your lucky wasn’t the greatest.

Light shined off metal. Faster than a blink of an eye, your throat was snatched. Your back was pressed to a firm, hot surface. Humid heat washed over the top of your head and ran down the back of your neck. A shutter ran its course. The muscles in your body only tensing more.

Yet, in this moment, after everything that’s happened after four years… you didn’t care. Not any more.

Sharp clicks and growls vibrated into your ear. The firm grip around your throat tightened only fraction. “Mi-ne.” A voice growled that it could be felt in your bones. The declaration strong and firm.

A voice you recoginized. Your hands instantly go to the one holding you in place. Try as you may, you couldn’t tilt your head far enough back to look at the figure. But, the lack of an ache in your chest only solidified your thoughts.

This had to be him.

As your mouth opened to speak words he deserved, his free hand pressed something into your mouth. Two fingers coaxed you to swallow dryly whatever he had placed on your tongue. His palm still covered the lower portion of your face. You tried to speak and began to fight him. Anger filled your veins at not only past action, but his current ones now.

When the hands left you, you believed there was a chance for escape. Your entire body whipped around to face the towering creature. Only, for you to sway from the sudden, unwise move. Strong, capable hands grasped your shoulders before you could slam into the ground. A haze took over your mind and left you unstable.

The ground left the bottom of your feet. Then, you were hoisted onto a thick, muscular shoulder that dug into your waist and belly. The move caused you to wheeze and grab onto the a fish net like material that covered at least his toned back. “Let me go!” you screamed at the top of your lungs then began to beat on his back with clenched fists.

He takes it. Without complaint. The humanoid figure spins on his heel and lets the darkness engulf him again. Your cried for help and desperate attempt for freedom begins to fade. Whatever he forced you to ingest was starting to take effect already. Your movements turned sluggish. Every beat was weaker than the last.

“I… hate you,” was what you could say before the darkness consumed you. Your body falling limp on his shoulder.

Warmth. Comfort. Those were the first two things to greet you when your consciousness finally decided to wake up. A soft blanket swaddled your entire form and kept you safe from the lurking monsters. A groan left your lips. You squirmed in the swaddled you’ve been placed in until it loosened.

It took a monstrous amount of strength to open your eyes and blink away the fatigue sitting in your bones. What greeted you made you believe the night still claimed you.

Metal from ceiling to floor made up the room you were in. The blankets on your shoulders slipped off when you sat up to fully take in the space. Your jaw dropped. Five skulls were line on the wall behind you. All were creatures you didn’t recognize. You gulped and kept taking in the room. Weapons decorated some parts of the wall. A bean bag like chair was shoved into one corner. A fur like blanket draped over it.

That’s when you realize the blankets you had been covered with are fur from an unknown creature. You shuttered to think of all the death that was proudly displayed in here. Why… why would he take you in here? Surely, it wasn’t to kill you? No. Your head shook in the negative. He wasn’t. He would’ve already done that if so. Plus, something in your heart told you he wouldn’t harm you.

You were in the process of shuffling to your knees when the door slid open. The entire room filled with tension. It was him. Face still covered a metal mask.

He doesn’t move. The two of you engage into a staring contest.

Thoughts were running wild in your mind. From the last time you had saw him, there had been slight changes. Mainly scars. He was already adorned in them and proudly presenting them. But, more had been added to his collection. A nasty looking one started from an inch above his right collarbone and descended with small jags mostly downwards.

All of them… made him look good, despite not seeing his face yet.

Your first move was to tug the blanket tighter around you, like some sort of shield. He wasn’t terrifying. Not an ounce of fear in your heart at the sight of his towering form.

But, you were nervous, unsure of the whole situation. The most of all. You were angry. Four years. It’s taken him four years to come back into your life and decide you were worth something after all. Tears pooled in your eyes at the thought.

A glare set over your features. You sat back down on your butt and looked away from him. The creature doesn’t deserve your attention, let alone a second of your time. For all you could care, you were going to completely ignore him until he gives up. Let him feel the pain of being abandoned by the one you thought was supposed to your other half.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched at the mustard yellow figure stalked forward. Your ears strained to listen to each step as he made his way towards you. You strengthened your walls. The beast stopped at the edge of the mattress and gazed down at your figure. Then, he gingerly sat down a couple of feet away from you.

His scaly hand reached out timidly. A move you observed closely. When he got in range, you swatted at the approaching limp. The creature snatched his hand back and made an offended noise. You didn’t need to see his eyes to know he was looking at you as if you had grown a second head. To go against someone three times your mass was obviously stupid. Yet, here you were, protecting yourself from his touch in what could be taken in an aggressive matter.

Except, he held back and took the sign completely. The figure bowed his head. “I-I kn-ow… you are u-pset.” It sounded like he was struggling to speak English. Not as it’s a language he does not know, but like his mouth and throat can’t make the sounds well. “I have reasons. I-it shouldn’t b-e possi-ble. Can’t be.”

If his words were meant to be soothing he was doing the opposite. You hugged your knees tighter with a scoff and a roll of your eyes. You wanted to ask him the reasoning but felt like that would give him too much attention. Despite what your soul wanted since it finally get’s to see your other half again after so long.

“It’s wr-ong. You’re ooman. I’m…” he trails off and glances over at your curled up form. A position meant to protect you from incoming harm. “I’m not.”

For him to confirm your suspicions, you weren’t surprised. Not after finally getting to see him in a better light. The dark, mustard yellow of his skin was dotted with scales. The color and texture wasn’t normal. The size of him wasn’t normal. The blonde rubbery-like dreads that poured from his head weren’t normal.

“I-it’s aga-against ev-everything I know. I came back. I sh-shouldn’t have.” The masked creature made a noise of agony. One of his hands came to rub at his sterum. “But the pa-in. A-after s-so long. I grew weak. Co-uldn’t handle it. I-I ne-needed to lay e-eyes on you.” Words kept tumbling from him. Words you barely understood while he struggled with your language.

They almost, almost softened you. The same pain you endured the last four years was what he experienced as well. But, there was a difference. He purposefully abandoned you. He deserved the pain. You, on the other hand, did not.

You were only human, after all. “Where am I?” Your voice was barely about a hoarse croak.

He perked, only slight, at the sound. “My s-hip. I’ve h-idden us-us from your go-vern-ment senses behind a plan-et you ca-ll Jupiter.” Him clarifying he was an alien though, wasn’t on your list of possibilities. At least, not very high. The most you thought of him was a mutated, escaped human experiment. Not… that.

“Y-you’re an alien?” you gaped before reeling in your shock. There was no reason him to give the benefit of the doubt. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you.

“Yes,” he confirmed and dipped his head. The strange, rubbery dreads slipped over his shoulders to sway. “I a-m a Yautja. No-t t-that you know w-hat that is.” You bristle at his offensive words and sent a heated glare at the alien. He brushed it off with a shrug. “My name is Cew’voc. A-and yours?” You turned your head away again as your answer. He has not earned that right to know you.

Newly named Cew’voc purred with mirth. It took every ounce of will not to spin around and punch him. How dare he laugh!

“That is-is okay. I-I can just look-k it up.” Whatever he had for a face, there had to be a smirk on it. You could hear it. You bristled against and huffed. This surely couldn’t be your soulmate.

A new silence fell over the two of you. For a moment, tense peace. Until you heard a mechanical hiss. Your head whipped over to find Cew’voc’s hands gripping the metal mask that adorned his face. Carefully, the alien tugged the cover free and let his features be revealed.

Alien. He was completely alien. Three mandibles tipped with sharp fangs protruded from where what looked to be a mouth. The mouth area had an animal like jowl but the front area was open. Similar to a person, he had a jaw. Teeth protruded from both the jaw and upper side of the mouth. Terrifying teeth that looked deadly.

Then, his eyes. Those felt like a predator was staring directly into your soul. You couldn’t help the shutter than ran its course. They were a bright, scary yellow that almost seemed to glow in the calm lighting of the room.

After you exploration of his face, you find the alien with its only upper mandible quirked up. As if he was smirking at you. You glowered.

In broken, struggling English, the Yautja spoke your name. You swiftly got on your knees to be the same height as him and pointed a finger at him. “You don’t deserve the right to say my name! You abandoned me,” you grounded out. Cew’voc simply raised a brow in your direction then amusedly shook his head. “Oh, no you don’t! You don’t get to brush me off like that. Four years of misery because of your scared little ass running away.”

Now, that got a reaction out of him. The alien stood up to a lumbering height above you and glared down at you over his mandibles. “I am n-o co-coward. I’m Yautja. S-strong, mi-ghty.” He thumped a fist over his chest. “Do not a-cused me with fa-lsehood.”

You didn’t fear him. Not one bit. You stood up to be eye with him on the bed and got into his face. “Yes. The fuck. You are! You ran away with your tail between your legs like a little sissy crying to your mom!” Despite nearing twenty-three, you used some middle school insults that hopefully did the trick.

The anger that covered his features melted away when he slumped back with another smirk. “Oh, we may g-et alon-g yet.”

Oh, you doubted that.

[talesofesther]

what once was mine | ch 2

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: I was kinda putting off writing this chapter because I was forced to write a scene I don't like to relive lol. But anyway, it's here, and I hope you like it. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 1 here

When you lost Loki, you didn't have time to grieve. The whole universe was being threatened, there was no time for tears.

It all had happened so fast. One minute Loki stood between you and Thanos, his hand holding yours and keeping you away from harm; and the next, Thor was dragging you away from the body of the person you loved the most, while you screamed until your throat burned.

And then you lost, again; half of the universe turned to dust. It was only one year later that a strange man came knocking at the compound's door with a solution, a hope. But not for you. After all, Loki wasn't one of the blipped ones, though a part of you wished he had been.

In the end, you won the war, and you brought everyone back; but you lost a piece of yourself.

You felt numb, hollow. Now, looking down at your hands, under the cold running water of the bathroom sink, you could see red even when it wasn't there. It stuck on your skin and under your fingernails. For the tenth time this week, you felt as if there were cotton balls in your throat and you couldn't breathe.

The sight was burned into the back of your mind, returning each night to haunt your nightmares. His bloodshot eyes, bright yet so lifeless; his hand still outstretched on the grounds of New Asgard when he'd last reached for you; dried tear tracks on his cheeks when he realized the inevitable; the crimson red blood dripping from his nose and mouth. That was the last image you had of your Loki, as you screamed—you couldn't even recall what exactly you had been screaming—and thrashed against Thor's strong hold on your body, dragging you away so you wouldn't meet the same fate.

You splashed water onto your face, making it hide your tears even though you could still taste the salt in between your sobs.

It's been over a year, and the pain has yet to subside. You've been living on autopilot since the last battle, helping rebuild and only eating enough to keep you going, barely speaking to anyone. There was a hole in your chest that you couldn't fill, a part of your heart that stopped beating the same day that his did. The year following The Snap had gone by in a blur, with everyone working incessantly trying to find a way to undo what happened, and part of you had a hope that you'd be able to bring Loki back as well; but when the solution was found, and he didn't come back, that last bit of hope was snuffed out like a candle, leaving you in the darkness.

People would look at you funny when you walked the hallways of the Avengers compound, you didn't know if it was because of the evident scar running from your forehead to the beginning of your left eyebrow, or because of the dark circles under your eyes.

You finally reached the kitchen and grabbed a mug with a sigh going past your lips. Steadily, you poured yourself some black coffee. Was it your second, or third mug of the day? You weren't sure.

"You drink a few more of those, it'll soon be running through your veins."

Thor's voice made you close your eyes, your back still turned to him. Despite loving the guy, you really didn't feel like talking right now. You brought the mug to your lips and took a generous sip before facing him.

"Here's hoping." You tried smiling, but it came more like a grimace.

A strong hand found your shoulder and squeezed. "Tony says he's worried about you... everyone is," Thor said quietly, trying to catch a glimpse of your eyes with his own.

You bit onto your lower lip, nearly drawing blood. When you looked up at Thor, you could see a reflection of your own pain in his kind eyes. "I just wish I could see him again. Just one last time." You shrugged weakly, watching as your vision turned blurry yet again.

In the same beat, Thor pulled you to him. His chin came to rest on top of your head as he hugged you tightly. "Yeah, me too," he whispered. "Me too."

It was on this same night that you woke up yet again covered in cold sweat and with a scream lingering on your tongue. Each beating of your heart against your ribs was a punch. The last image you had of him burned behind your eyes.

You got up and walked to your bedroom door, hands shaking when you turned the knob and when you filled a glass with water.

When you lost Loki, there was no time for a goodbye, there was no time for you to lay a last kiss on his forehead and promise to find him again in another lifetime. He was taken from you—abruptly, and without remorse—leaving behind a gash on your heart; an open wound that still bled.

Maybe that's why, on this same night, you made your way to Tony's lab, grabbed one of the few remaining pym particles, and pulled yourself through time.

Just one last time. You had to see him just one last time. You had to say goodbye, and make a promise.

The TVA found you before you found Loki. You never got back to your timeline.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 3 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Loki’s taglist: @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @justaproudslytherpuff @justanotherkpopstanlol @chronicallybubbly @chaoticqueen33 @7minutes-tomidnight @uncle-eggy @oliviaewl @dd122004dd @tani725 @lokihaha34 @levanneisdumb @innebulae @mochminnie @mayemperess @alyeskathewave @buginktsworld @cremebruleequeen @wyvernthekriger @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @avengersfan25 @mischief2sarawr @yokolesbianism @arunabrak @athenasproverbs @h-l-vlovesvintage

[adviceformefromme]

💖TRUSTING YOUR INNER VOICE - 3 MONTHS UNTIL 2025 - GLOW UP SERIES [WEEK 12] - 💖

Your life can drastically change in three months, and this is coming from someone who started last October unexpectedly in hospital everyday for three weeks, to then leave London and move back home and share a ROOM with my mom due to space issues and by the end of the whirlwind I finally got to move into my dream ocean view apartment in Europe. ALL WITHIN 3 MONTHS. How did I transform my life? What remained consistent was my inner voice, leading me towards faith and not fear. Being able to hear God’s direction and having the courage to take a leap into the unknown at each twist and turn. So no matter where you start this October, trust and know that miracles are possible, and if you stay true to where you are being guided you will end up exactly where you need to be. 

UNDERSTANDING WHAT VOICE IS GUIDING YOU…

Are you leaning into fear or into faith? Each day, are you sticking to what you know or are you taking risks? Are you using your voice to speak up when you’re usually quiet? Are you still remaining true to your vision despite not seeing the results in the 3D? Are you trying to control situations feeling anxious and stuck, or are you remaining trusting and faithful to the visions God has placed in your heart? If you find fear is guiding your life, your TRANSFORMATION is going to a struggle, there is going to be friction, and this is where you need to get out of your own way. God wants to move you somewhere you’ve never been, you’ve been doing your vision boards, affirmations, praying, reading, trying your very best to LEVEL-TF-UP, and STILL feeling stuck…and this is because your inner voice is holding you hostage to what you’ve known, to the old version of you, the expired version. These next 12 weeks are for tuning into a different frequency, to locking into God’s direction and here are the steps…

1] You need to meditate to create space in your mind to hear the voice that wants to lead you to your highest potential. It’s always there waiting for you to listen, in order to HEAR you need SPACE.. and to get space you need to meditate. The aim is 20 mins per day, if you’re already comfortable with this aim for 1 hour. I know this might sound like a scary amount of time to sit in silence but think how easily you can spend 20 mins on social media doom scrolling…Do you want to GLOW-UP or do you want to stay stuck? This is what you need to ask yourself daily…But please walk before you run, here is 10 mins meditation that is simple and transformative and will 100% allow you mental space so you can slowly throughout the day start to hear your inner voice - God speaking to you. 

2] Tune out of negativity (the news, low vibration music, gossip, scrolling through peoples highlight reel) and tune into high vibes… Listening to high vibes is going to move you energetically into a new space. There will be more peace and positivity. The high vibes include, morning motivation on YouTube find one that empowers you, cleansing your social media accounts of anything negative or deleting it full stop while you’re on your glow up journey. Listening to binaural beats, gospel, or anything that has empowering lyrics that lift you up. 

3] Once you have removed the low vibes you also want SILENT vibes, this means going for a walk without your phone. Waking up and not checking your phone for 1 hour, having as many moments of silence as possible, and this is when you will start to hear. You might hear negativity in your mind at first, it might be overbearing, the voice might be telling you how stupid you are, how pathetic you are, but PERSEVERE. Get curious on why you have this negativity in your mind, journal on what was coming up for you, you want to clear out the negativity so you can hear the inner wisdom that is waiting to flow in. 

4] PRAY FOR GUIDANCE. If you don’t have the direction, you are wanting to transform your life and don’t know what the next steps are, I promise you the moment you start praying and asking is the moment you receive the answers. It will come in the form of conversations, YouTube content creators will appear in your feed, you will have thoughts, dreams, a book will fall of a shelf, there will be direction from above. God wants to help you, you just have to ask and listen clearly for the answers. They will appear.

A little story time of my 3 month transformation from last October - December and how I completely transformed my life in that time…

Until next week, stay in your faith, your journal and remain hopeful that this time things are going to be different. Your transformation is in progress.

[ddejavvu]

Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 1) / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (Final Part)

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 11.3K / navigation / inbox

A/N: thank you to everyone who has encouraged me in my development of this series! it's three parts long, and each part will be posted one week after the one before it. that means you get chapter 2 next week, and chapter 3 two weeks from now. and after chapter 3 is released, i will post the full fic in one single post, so that it's easier to read. this series means a lot to me, it's the longest fic I've ever finished for this account, and I would really love to hear what you think of it. Thank you to the love of my life miss jade (@luveline), for being the first person to read this (!!), and for all of your wonderful feedback that cheered me on as I crossed the finish line for this series. I don't think I would have finished it if it wouldn't have been for your support, so thank you sweetpea <3

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

It’s 11:14 AM when you get the call. Your phone buzzes ballistically beneath your pillow, where you’d stuffed it haphazardly last night somewhere close to 4 AM. For the record, you’d only slept because your eyes hurt from being open for so long. You’re certain that, after what you’d done, you deserved to ache for eternity, but you’d succumbed to sleep when it pulled hard enough at you.

Raising the phone to your ear is a chore, especially because the number on the screen is unrecognizable, but you stretch your tired, bed-ridden limbs and hold the cool glass screen to your face. It’s jarring, and you long for the stuffy warmth of the pillow again.

“Hello?”

“Miss Y/N Mitchell?” It’s a man’s voice, deep and strong through the receiver. It’s no-nonsense, and you almost worry that you’ve misfiled your taxes, that someone from the IRS is tracking you down.

“That’s me,” You rub sleep out of your left eye, harder than necessary so that your vision is blurry when you open your eye again. You’re not very gentle with yourself these days.

“You’re listed as an emergency contact for Mr. Bradley Bradshaw. He’s currently a patient at the Naval Medical Center in San Diego. He was brought in at 9:37 AM this morning when his jet malfunctioned mid-exercise, and he crashed into a canyon below.”

Your heart stops. 

Your cheeks get hot, your hands start to tingle, and your stomach feels like it’s going to start turning cartwheels, sloshing your insides around until you vomit what little you’ve eaten.

Bradley’s dead, you think, Bradley’s dead, Bradley’s dead, Bradley’s dead.

“We were able to airlift him out, and he’s stabilized now-” Bradley’s not dead,  “-but he’s still unconscious. His parents are here, as well as your father, if you’d like to join them.”

It takes a long time for you to speak. It’s almost a full minute, and the man on the other end has to call your name to get you to respond.

“Miss Mitchell?”

“I’ll be there,” You blurt, heaving a shaky breath as you seal a hand over your mouth. You part your fingers only to make sure he hears you clearly as you confirm, “He’s alive?”

“Yes, he’s alive and stable.” The man informs you, “He’ll recover, Miss Mitchell.”

Bradley’s not dead. Bradley’s not dead. Bradley’s not dead.

“I’ll be there,” You repeat, and for the first time in almost 36 hours, you kick the crappy motel blankets off of your legs and stand, “Thank you, sir.”

--

Wearing a bra again after two weeks of lazing around in bed is awful. But you’ll do it for Bradley, if only to make up for the last thing you’d said to him.

“I can’t love you anymore!” Rings in your ears, and a vision of Bradley’s hands reaching desperately for you flashes through your mind, covering up the green light ahead of you.

Someone honks behind you, a BMW. You jolt to attention, stepping on the gas and jerking into the intersection.

Easy, you chide yourself, You’re going to the hospital to visit a patient, not to be one.

You’re able to pull into the hospital’s parking lot without nearly causing any more car crashes, and you briefly wonder if you should take the coward’s way out again as you trek over the asphalt towards the hospital. You’d run two weeks ago, why not now? Why not now, when what you’d been worried about that night has actually happened?

Urged by the regret flooding your veins since fleeing, you walk on, stepping through the automatic doors of the hospital and sidling up to the reception desk.

“I’m here to see Bradley Bradshaw,” You inform the nurse there, “Uh- Lieutenant. If that… helps.”

She sends you a kind smile, filled with sympathy that you’re thankful for as you stammer and stumble your way through speaking. You’re sure you’re not the most distraught person here, and you’re guiltily thankful for that. 

“Room 624,” The nurse tells you, and oh, what a sick coincidence, “Down the hall and to the left, take the elevator up and follow the arrows on the floor.”

6/24 is not only Bradley’s birthday, but your anniversary; the day you’d kissed him on the swings in his backyard with hot fudge sticking to your lips. He’d been glum about his dad missing his birthday on deployment, and, of course, your dad couldn’t be there either. Carole had done her best to brighten up her boy, but some things couldn’t be mended with gift wrap, and you all knew that.

You’d snuck out to join him that night with a sundae, offering him the serving spoon thickly coated in the chocolate. He’d accepted it with a huffy eye roll, upset that you’d managed to cheer him up even a little bit with just one spoon of ice cream.

--

“It sucks,” Bradley mutters around the chocolate in his mouth, the syrup sticking his words together, “I know he can’t do anything about it. But I still want him here.”

“I know,” You hum, taking a bite of ice cream for yourself, “I’m sorry, Brad. If it makes you feel any better, he’ll probably get you something, like, really good when he gets back. He’ll feel all guilty, that’s what my dad did and I got a puppy out of it.”

“We’ve already got a puppy,” Bradley gestures to the Bradshaw’s family dog, well on in years by the gray around his muzzle and his tendency to nap instead of move.

“Maybe you’ll get one that you can actually play with,” You offer Bradley another bite of the ice cream, and you only feel a little bad for making fun of Lewis. But the dog doesn’t understand your teasing, softly snoring on the porch.

“Maybe he’ll get me a car,” Bradley gushes, “A bitchin’ one, like a Bronco or something. Then we can put our surfboards in the back and go to the beach.”

“You don’t even have a license!” You elbow Bradley, laughing at his lofty dreams, “But a Bronco would be cool. You should send your dad a magazine clipping of one with your next letter and talk about how cool it is.”

“You’re smarter than you look,” Bradley muses, a smear of chocolate over his lower lip that he doesn’t lick away.

You scoff, stomping on his foot where it’s planted in the grass beside your own. He jolts away with a yelp, and in doing so, jerks the swing he’s sitting on, He catches his balance and you notice the syrup on his lip, reaching out to clean it with your thumb.

“You’ve got hot fudge on your face, doofus,” You sneer, happy to return his teasing, “You eat like a toddler.”

“I’m not the one who put three cups of it on the sundae!” Bradley insists, and his lower lip catches your thumb as he speaks. Teenagers in love, you’re hyperaware of touches like that, and your breath hitches in your throat at the contact. He notices it too, staring down wide-eyed at where your thumb hovers over his lips.

“Sorry,” He blurts, and in doing so, his warm breath fans over your hand. You jerk it away, eyes on the ground as you mumble away his concerns.

“It’s fine,” You mutter in a terrible attempt to remain nonchalant, “We’re not four, it’s not like I think you’ve got cooties or something.’

Bradley takes to the teasing, glad it’s not tense anymore, “That’s not what you say when I leave my underwear on the floor.”

“‘Cause that’s gross!” You launch into a rant, “That’s, like, personal! And they’re used too,” You shudder, handing him the sundae intent on scrubbing a hand over your face, “Nasty, bro.”

Despite your casual nickname for the boy beside you, you feel like anything but bros when his hand brushes yours. He takes the ice cream from you, and his hand half-closes around your own, sending a spark shooting up your spine.

Your breath catches in your throat again and this time Bradley hears it, looking at you through his lashes with those wide brown eyes.

Neither of you move away this time, frozen just like the treat in your joint grip.

You feel extra affection for the boy next to you today, the shared grief of losing your fathers every few months bringing you closer together. It’s what compels you to lean in, tilting your swing sideways to brush your lips over his own in a painfully awkward teenage-style kiss. Before you have the time to panic about whether you did the right thing, Bradley reciprocates, pursing his lips slightly to fit them around your top one. You follow his lead and it goes much better, a chaste kiss that’s sweeter than the chocolate staining your lips.

--

You’re glad you’d kissed him that day, you’re glad you had the balls to take the leap that resulted in a nearly twenty year long relationship. It would have been twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-five, fifty if you hadn’t chickened out two weeks ago, but you try not to think about that in the elevator lest you make yourself sick.

You find room 624 easily, the painted arrows on the floor leading you down the hallway that the room stands in. You wonder if you should knock first, you’re not too knowledgeable on hospital etiquette, but you decide that manners can be damned, your boyfriend- ex-boyfriend is in there.

You turn the handle and step inside, and Carole looks up from Bradley’s bedside immediately. You think she’s expecting a doctor, and her desperation for finding one breaks your heart. Her teary face splits into a sad smile, and she rushes to your side to envelop you in a hug. You let her have it because she’s grieving over her son, but you’re surprised she’s not immediately angry with you for breaking up with Bradley.

“Honey,” She gushes into your shoulder, “Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re here! Brad’s gonna be okay, they said he’s just gonna need some help breathing until he gets stable. Then they can get him healthy and ready to go again!”

“That’s great,” You hold her close, relishing the last Bradshaw hug you’ll probably ever get, “Where’s Nick and dad?”

“Oh, they went to get food,” Carole releases you, swatting her hand in the air in an affectionately teasing manner, “You know those boys, always hungry for something.”

You laugh awkwardly, watching as she settles down by Bradley’s bedside again. She looks back up at you where you’re swaying on your feet, gesturing to the chair beside her, “Well come on, girl! Get in here!” She seems much more lively now that she has company, and you hate to think of her grieving her injured son alone.

“Oh- I, uh,” You stammer, darting for the seat beside her, “I wasn’t sure if-”

“Don’t worry,” She seems to misplace your concern, “He’s okay, sweetie-pie, you won’t hurt him just by breathin’ on him.”

“Right,” You smile, though its disingenuous with tension, “Um, so it was a mid-exercise crash?”

“Mhm,” Her face dims slightly, “Apparently there was some freak accident with one of the engines, 'set off the whole thing. And that’s two crashes in one week! First it was that Javy boy, I tell you, I think they should vet those engineers better. I mean, aren’t they supposed to catch that stuff beforehand?”

“Yeah,” You feel partially numb, but you’re not sure whether it’s emotional or physical. You’ve been trying to avoid looking at Bradley so far, using his bubbly, bouncing mom as a distraction, but now that the blonde has settled beside you your eyes drift. 

He could be perceived as sleeping, if the color wasn’t drained from his face. His skin is still tan but it’s duller now, golden brown fading to a sickly, colder shade of it, like there’s no life beneath it. His eyes are shut and there’s a breathing tube up his nose; you wonder how pissed he’ll be when he wakes up to find out they’ve had to trim his mustache around the thing.

“Must be a Bradshaw family tradition,” Carole breaks your concentration, laughing weakly, her voice lined with a hint of tears, “Crashing, scarin’ their girls half to death.”

You remember the day of Goose’s crash like it was yesterday. You’d only been three at the time, freshly so. But grief like that, the panic you’d observed, doesn’t go away. It can’t be forgotten, it can’t drift out of your brain like so many memories do with age. You and Bradley had sat together in the hospital with Carole and your dad, and Nick still had the crummy plane drawings you’d done for him while waiting for him to wake up.

Carole’s usage of the phrase ‘their girls’ unnerves you. She’s been exceptionally nice to you so far, especially considering that she’s fiercely protective of Bradley, and should have kicked you halfway to Mars for ditching him like you’d done. But she’s leaning towards you in her chair, and you come to the dreadful realization that she doesn’t know you’ve broken up with Bradley.

“Now, I know you wanted to keep things hush-hush,” She gushes, happy to look at your animated face instead of Bradley’s still one for a moment. She reaches over to brace her hands on your knees, leaning eagerly into your space, “But I have to know, babycakes, how did it go?”

“Hm?” You look dazedly at her, still partially staring at Bradley.

“The proposal!” She squeezes your hands, sniffling weakly with the remnants of tears past, “I know that boy was finally manning up enough to ask you, 'should'a put a ring on you years ago."

Any other time, you'd groan at Carole's opinion on your relationship. She's been urging the two of you to tie the knot for decades, but you'd felt no burning desire to go to the courthouse. You were comfortable in your life, why spend an obscene amount of money to get a piece of paper that tells you you're in love? You knew that for free, in the way that Bradley looked at you, in the way that he memorized all of your fast food orders, in the way that his hand so often found yours beneath the sheets in his sleep. Now her teasing is a sore spot, one that gapes the wound already bleeding in your chest.

"-But when I asked him how it went he said he’d ‘share the details later’. I’m sure you wanted to make some big announcement or something, but I need this right now, honey, tell me what happened.”

She’s staring at you like she always has, like you’re the sweet little girl she helped raise when your mama had chickened out. Cowardice must run in the family.

There’s such pretty hope shining in her eyes that you can’t bear to crush it, ready to spew lies about how glorious Bradley’s proposal had gone, how you’d fallen to your knees to kiss him, how you’d shouted ‘yes!’ from the rooftops. Fortunately, you don’t have to lie to her, because the door opens and your dad and Nick step through.

“Hey,” Your dad cheers, tossing you a plastic-wrapped sandwich, “There you are, honey. I was worried you weren’t gonna show up, ‘thought you’d be mad at him or something.”

“You know she was mad at me when we went down?” Goose gestures to Carole incredulously, and you can’t see behind his sunglasses but you know he’s addressing you, “I wasn’t even flying the damn thing and I got lectured!”

He lets up, goes easy on Carole, you’re sure because he’d had to comfort her earlier. You see a slightly dark, damp patch on the left side of his Hawaiian shirt as he leans in to hug you, probably her tears.

“Good to see ‘ya, kid,” Nick rubs your back, “You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah,” You nod, voice slightly shaky as you smooth your previously-folded hands down your thighs. The movement catches Carole’s attention, and you look away before you can see her reaction to your bare ring finger.

“He’ll be fine,” Goose leans over to slap Bradley’s calf, and Carole looks like she wants to scold him for it, as if he'll die right then and there, “He’s tough just like’is daddy.”

“His daddy should go get me some tea,” Carole huffs, placing her hand over Bradley’s as if it would make up for Nick’s slap, “And take Maverick with you, I don’t want you getting lost.”

“Oh, again-?” Goose grumbles, setting his lunch on one of the plastic chairs around Bradley’s bed, “You could’a told me that before we left, honey.”

“Didn’t want it until now,” Carole insists, “Now shoo, get some for Y/N, too.”

The second the door shuts behind the two men, a stiff silence falls over the room.

Carole’s sweet voice breaks it, but it’s the last thing you want to hear, “Where’s the ring?”

You stare at the sandwich in your lap, like it’ll open face and read like a book, giving you instructions on how to lie your way through this.

“I know he asked you,” She presses on, voice pitched up with tension, “I- I gave him the ring Nick used to propose to me. That was almost a month ago. We swapped it out for a wedding band, and- and I thought Bradley could use the engagement ring for you, too. I know he asked you.”

“Carole,” You can’t bear to look her in the eyes, not the woman who’d fed you macaroni and cheese when your dad was halfway around the world in a fighter jet and tucked you in extra tight during a rainstorm so that the lightning couldn't sneak through the gaps in the blankets to get you.

“No, tell me, where is the ring?” She raises her voice, the way she used to when Bradley would leave his scooter out in the rain to rust, “Just tell me-” Her voice peters out into a weak whimper, “-tell me you didn’t say no.”

“I’m a coward,” You finally mutter as her answer, hateful and wicked, “I got scared. I wish I’d said yes, really, I- I wish I could take it back, but-”

“What did you do?” Her face crumples at your admission and she nearly shrieks, squeezing her hand tighter over Bradley’s, “Y/N, what did you do?”

“I said no!” You sob, chest heaving as you wipe away a tear from your eye heavy-handed, “I was scared, Carole. After Coyote went down,” You blearily recall the last plane crash you’d heard about, a member of Bradley’s own squadron caught in a bird strike. He’d been fine, but waiting for the news took you right back to your youth, and you’d been hit with the striking realization that it could happen to Bradley, too. It could be you in that chair, it could be your love on the line. You’d been so sick with dread that you’d backed away altogether, running away to preserve your emotions.

“I just- I didn’t want it to happen to Bradley,” You confess, “I didn’t want it to happen to me. So when he asked, I was-” You sniffle, hard, “I was so scared. I didn’t want to marry him and then lose him. For some reason this-” You suppress a sob, throat aching and chest heaving, “-dating a pilot is different than marrying one. Dating is- it’s temporary, even if you plan on it lasting forever. It’s less serious, it’s not set in stone. But marriage-” You hiccup, “-marriage is the real deal. It's like- It's like I was dating Bradley, y'know, the teenage boy who took me to homecoming because I was sad no one asked me. But- but then all of a sudden I was marrying an aviator. And that’s- that was scary! That was real. I- we’d been together for twenty years!” You gush, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, “I should have known marriage wouldn’t be any different. It’s not like we ever thought we’d break up,” You sniffle weakly, “Marriage was always sort of silly to me, 'cause we just thought we'd be together forever regardless. But I never realized how real it would feel. So I- I freaked out. When he asked me, I made up some stupid excuse, and I chickened out! But-” Your chest heaves with a sob as you finally lift your eyes to Bradley, “He crashed anyway. He went down even though I said no, and it still hurts.” You cry, face scrunched in despair, “It hurts so bad, Carole, I didn’t think it would still hurt.”

“You fool,” She huffs exasperatedly, but she reaches out to clutch your hand like a lifeline. She’s holding Bradley’s with her other, and you wish for a moment that you could cut out the middleman and hold his hand on your own. You don't feel worthy to touch him anymore. “You don’t stop loving someone by leaving them, you stop loving them by moving on. Of course it still hurts, you didn't move on; you still love him. And- and leaving him didn’t stop him from getting hurt, it just meant he probably went down wishing he got to tell you he loved you this morning, so you'd know.”

The thought breaks you, Bradley ejecting with you on his mind. Evidently he hadn’t fully accepted your breakup, not if he hadn’t even told his mom about it. You wonder if he was planning on trying to get you back, if after work today he would have come over with flowers and a thousand pleas on his lips that you didn’t deserve.

“He loves you,” She continues, tears wetting her own cheeks, “And even if you did say somethin’ stupid, I don’t think there’s anything you could tell that boy that’d make him stop loving you. Apologize when he wakes up, baby, he’ll understand. He'll be hurt, no doubt. But he’s been scared before, too, believe me.”

“I will,” You gush, nodding as she squeezes your hand and Bradley’s in sync, “I will, I promise! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Just make it right,” She pleads, “Can’t have you two splittin’ up now, not after all this time.”

“I wish I hadn’t done it,” You weep, holding your hands to your eyes as if you can plug up the tears, “I- I just panicked! And I’ve been a wreck ever since, I- I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t-”

“Tea’s here!” The door opens, and Nick is suddenly a lot quieter as he sees you bent in half and crying, “Oh, honey.”

“C’mere,” Your dad edges around Goose, squatting by the side of your chair while Carole rubs your back. He’s always been fantastic at comforting you, which you marvel at because he was so active in his career. He wasn’t always around when you were little, but that didn’t stop him from knowing how you liked your back rubbed, your hair done, and your cookies warmed.

“He’s gonna wake up,” Your dad soothes you, wiping a tear away from your face, with the hand that isn’t rubbing your back, “Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay,” Carole promises, and you know she’s talking about something else entirely, “It’s alright honey, it’ll all work out.”

Nick feels a bit useless now, standing there with two cups of tea in his hands while everyone else comforts you, but he’s quick to notice a frown work its way onto Bradley’s sleeping face.

“Brad- hey! Look,” He gestures with one cup of tea, only spilling a tiny drop, “I think he’s wakin’ up.”

All of a sudden you want to go home. You’re not sure you can do this, you don’t belong here with his grieving family. You belong in your bed, kicking yourself for your cowardice and wishing you’d done better by him.

But there’s no time to flee now, not again. This time you have to brave it, you have to watch as his big brown eyes slowly blink open, a haze of sleep and medication clouding them over.

“Agh,” He groans, hand twitching by his side, “What-?”

“Hey, Bradley.” Nick leans over the bed, tea now set aside on a tiny table, “How y’feelin’ bud? You had quite the plane crash.”

Bradley takes a moment to observe his surroundings, blinking blearily at your dad, then you, then his mom. His eyes drift back over to you and they feel like they’re lasers, boring searing holes through your chest where your heart used to be two weeks ago.

The slow and steady beeping that had been long since tuned out slowly started to increase while Bradley regained consciousness. Your dad looked warily at the machine, watching Bradley’s heart rate rise.

“I’ll get a doctor.” He ducks out, and Carole stands.

“We should go,” She grabs Nick’s hand, looking pointedly at you, “We’ll give you a minute alone with him, honey.”

Nick starts to protest about being led away, something about how ‘-he came outta my balls! I can’t see him when he wakes up in the hospital?’ but Carole’s already corralling him to the nurse’s station in search of your father. If you weren’t so fond of the woman you’d be cursing her for sticking you alone with Bradley, but you know you can’t let yourself succumb to fear again; this time you have to be a big girl.

“Baby,” Bradley rasps, turning your attention back on him. You watch him weakly, eyes apprehensive as he reaches for your hand, “C’mere.” 

You hesitate, and he lets out a weak chuckle, “Come on, now. You’re not gonna kill me by holding my hand.”

“Bradley,” You sniffle, reaching out for his limp fingers on the bed, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” He smiles lazily, eyes drooping, “I’m okay. Comes in the job description, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” You repeat, grief-stricken as you clutch at his hand desperately, “I shouldn’t have left, I- I wish I had stayed.”

“Baby,” His brows furrow and he laughs sympathetically, “They wouldn’t have let you stay, you know that. I work on a naval base, not at a chipotle. You can’t sit with me all day. Plus, there was no way you would’ve known I was gonna go down. I’m glad you weren’t there, sweetheart. I wouldn’t have wanted you to see that.”

All at once, your chest burns hot, blazing with panic. Is he not going to talk to you about it? Is he going to pretend nothing happened? Is he going to refuse to acknowledge what you’d said? You stammer, “What-?”

“Mr. Bradshaw!” The doctor comes in, cheery now that his patient is awake. You turn your head, still dazed and fear-stricken at Bradley’s demeanor. “Let’s see how you’re doing here. Any chest pain?”

“A little,” Bradley shifts in his bed, wincing infinitesimally.

“Probably just some discomfort due to the broken ribs. Headache?”

“Yeah,” Bradley admits with a groan, “That I’ve got.”

The doctor scribbles something down on his chart, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Bradley strains to think, “I… don’t know. I don’t even-" He grimaces, "I don't even remember the crash, ‘just know it happened ‘cause he told me.”

Bradley raises a shaky finger to point at Nick, who’s happy to see his son gain some mobility back, even if he is worried for the boy. The three adults had filed back into the room after the doctor, and you pointedly avoid Carole’s imploring stare.

“Think hard,” The doctor commands, and you squeeze his hand like it’s a play-dough machine, like memories will ooze themselves into his brain in star shapes and heart cut-outs.

“I remember…” Bradley rasps, turning his hand beneath yours to grasp it, “Jake’s birthday party. That was-” He glances over at you, “-last night?”

“That was three weeks ago,” This time your heart rate is the one to rise, echoing dully in your ears like the soundtrack of a horror film, “Is that-” You sniffle, “Is that the last thing you can remember, B?”

His eyebrows raise and he tries taking in the information, “Yeah- uh, shit. Three weeks ago. What does that mean, doctor?”

“It sounds like you’ve developed post-traumatic amnesia.” The doctor scribbles once more on his paperwork, “The good news is, we think you have only a mild concussion. And amnesia induced by mild concussions typically lasts only up to a week or two at most. But there’s a very real chance you could remember everything in just a few minutes.”

Amnesia.

He doesn’t remember.

“What I want you to do now is to rest, and we’ll have a nurse send up something to eat. Please,” The doctor eyes Nick knowingly, “Do not feed him the funyuns you’re holding behind your back.”

“Foiled again,” Goose laughs, tossing the packet of chips onto a chair beside his own lunch, “You got it, doc.”

“Alright, glad you’re awake,” The doctor bids you goodbye, “And- a nurse will be in to run a few simple tests later. For now, just sleep and eat.”

“Will do,” Bradley tries tightening his hand around yours but you worm away from him, and it’s heartbreakingly easy to do with his limited mobility. You stand abruptly, legs shaky and heart pounding in your chest as you stumble away from his bed.

Amnesia. Amnesia. Amnesia.

He doesn't remember.

“Honey?” Bradley calls warily, face scrunching into a tired frown.

His eyes follow you as you back right into your chair, the plastic scraping against the floor with an ungodly screech. Now the attention is all on you, and you give into that dreaded fight or flight response you seem to always fall victim to.

“I need to use the bathroom,” You ramble, rushing for the door, “I’ll be back!”

“Y/N-” Bradley tries calling, but his voice is weak enough where you can pretend you haven’t heard it as you try to refrain from running down the hall. You don’t make it ten steps before Bradley’s door closes with a sharp click, and the voice of one Carole Bradshaw cuts through the silence of the hallway.

“Y/N Mitchell!”

She’s using the same tone she used to use when you’d get in trouble for pulling a girl’s hair at school, or throwing mud at a boy who was mean to Bradley. You react just like you had then, spine stiffening and limbs locking. 

“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” She warns, stomping towards you in her half-raised heels, “Turn around, young lady.”

You follow her orders even if the nickname is outdated. She’s got her pretty eyes narrowed, and as much as it pains you to be on the receiving end of one of her seldom-used withering stares, it’s better than being in there and watching Bradley’s eyes shift when he suddenly remembers you’d been the biggest douche on planet Earth.

“Did you apologize?” She inquires, and you nod obediently.

“But- but Carole, he doesn’t remember-!” 

“He will,” She promises, “And when he does, you’d better apologize again. He needs you right now, y’know? He thinks it’s three weeks ago, before you ran off and left'im. As far as he knows, you’re still his adoring girlfriend who he’s probably yearning to see right about now. So go in there,” She reaches for your hand, “Kiss that boy on the mouth,” She demands, “And stop running away!”

“What? I can’t-” You gush, trying to pull away. But she’s stronger than Bradley is at the moment, and her hand tightens around yours, “I can’t lie to him! Not about this, I- how long am I supposed to pretend?”

“As long as you can,” She insists, already pulling you back towards his room, a woman on a mission, “You march right on in there, and tell him how worried you were, and let his memories come back to him on his own time. He’s traumatized right now, he just doesn’t know it yet, and he needs you there. If you break the news to him now, it’ll only stress him out more. Go play nice, and when he comes around in a few minutes, you can have a real talk.”

“I don’t want to lie to him,” You lament, and she stops pulling you down the hall to narrow her eyes at you.

“Babydoll?” She asks sweetly, and fooled by her kindness, you hum in question, “I don’t give a shit.”

She’s never foul-mouthed, so it catches your attention. She holds your incredulous gaze, “You want him back?”

“Yes.”

“You wish you’d never left?”

“Yes.”

“Well as far as he knows, you haven’t.” She huffs, the fabric of her skirt flowing near her calves, “So get in there and be there for your boyfriend of twenty years, and when he suddenly remembers you aren’t his girlfriend anymore, Grovel. Sound like a plan?” She raises an eyebrow, and you tamp down the nerves rising in your chest. You nod cautiously, resolutely, and she loosens her grip on your hand. She still holds it to lead you back to the room, but she stops outside the door to speak one last time.

“I know you love him,” Her voice is softer now, genuinely sweet and caring, “And I also know you like to run when things get scary. And that’s understandable, but it’s not okay, not right now. You can’t stop loving someone just ‘cause you don’t wanna lose ‘em. It’ll hurt worse if you walk away.”

“I know,” You breathe shakily, squeezing her hand, “Thanks, Carole.”

“Anytime, sweetpea,” She smiles, tears still gathered in her eyes, “Now get in there and kiss my son.”

“There they are,” Your dad stands as you reenter the room, “You ladies have a nice bathroom break?”

“‘Had the time of our lives,” Carole nods, letting you take the seat closest to Bradley’s head. Your feet feel burdened with lead weights as you step towards his bedside, and he watches you with worried eyes. You’re sure he knows you weren’t really going to the bathroom, not with the way you’d fled, but you’re glad he’s choosing to pretend for your sake. He seems worried, though, and you curse yourself for making this about you.

“Y/N,” He reaches out for you as soon as you’re in reach, his voice still hoarse. His hand squeezes yours instantly, and you feel for the panic he's probably experiencing. He deserves a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold, and it should be someone better than you.

“Bradley,” You murmur back, trying to stop your lips from trembling, “I- can I kiss you?”

Carole’s voice rings in your ears, and you don’t have to turn around to know she’s smiling at the two of you. Bradley pauses, then his worried eyes soften and he nods weakly against the pillow.

“Oh,” Nick teases as you brace your hand on Bradley’s bed, leaning down to press a feather-light kiss to his lips, “Lovebirds!”

The kiss is nothing but awkward. It’s hesitant on your end, because you can’t believe you get to do it again. You’d really believed the goodbye kiss you’d shared with Bradley before he picked up dinner for the two of you would be your last one, so fitting your lips over his in the hospital seems like something otherworldly. You’re careful, too, because you don’t want to hurt him, not that you think you could ever smooch him to death. He doesn’t reciprocate much, he can’t, but the familiar prickle of his mustache against your lip is a welcome feeling that makes your heart feel light again, if only for a few seconds.

When you pull away, it’s gone. Because you have to look him in the eyes, the same ones you’d forced tears out of two weeks ago, and pretend like none of it happened at all.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” You gush, voice cracking, and it feels right starting off with the truth. You can get to the lies later, the ugly little abominations you’re cooking up so that he preserves as much mental energy as possible while on bedrest. You know Carole’s right, you know he needs to heal as much as he can before you make it worse with the news, but lying feels so wrong. He’ll find out sooner or later, and what if he really was done with you? What if he hadn’t told his mom so that no family drama erupted, what if it wasn’t because he was going to try to get you back? What if he hated you, and what if he hates you even more when he knows you’re lying through your teeth to him?

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He promises, his fingers curling slowly and carefully around your own, "Are you? You ran off, I was worried."

"I'm fine," You insist, waving away his concern with a shake of your head.

He doesn't seem satisfied with your answer; he can read you like a book. But he accepts your answer, and you admire him for not wanting to pry in front of everyone. He changes the subject, glancing briefly around the hospital room, “Baby my- my phone, can I have my phone?”

“It’s here,” Your dad hands it to him, and Carole watches your eyes widen infinitesimally. What if Bradley sees his text conversations? What if he sees that you haven’t talked in half a month? What if he finds messages from someone on a dating app he’d used, a rebound-in-the-making?

What if he’s changed his background? What if he wants an answer as to why it’s probably some picturesque sunset, a jet plane cutting through the clouds above. Or maybe it’s of Lewis, he’d recently had photos restored of the dog.

What if he notices your contact name is changed to something like ‘Do not answer’? What if he realizes he’s blocked you? What if all of your pictures together are deleted off of his phone, and he wonders why?

There’s a thousand things that could go wrong.

“Coyote called,” Bradley rasps, upon first sight of his screen. Then, “Hangman. Twice. Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy, Payback, I- I should send out a message.”

“I will!” You lunge for your own phone, digging in your back pocket with suspicious urgency, “Uh, I’ll let everyone know, you just- just rest.”

“Okay,” Bradley hesitates for only a second, letting his grip go loose around his phone so that it falls back to the bed.

He seems content to let you do it, if only a little deterred by your insistence. But you’ll play the part of the fussy girlfriend, not wanting her injured love to work harder than he has to.

Nick and Pete take the time that you’re creating a group thread to question Bradley more on his memories, and every answer he gives sets your heart on edge. Your fingers feel numb as you type out ‘Rooster’s stable now, he has a mild concussion and a few broken ribs, but the doctors say he’ll recover fully. His memories are a little hazy from the past few weeks but apparently those will be back soon. I’ll send you any updates we get.’

Before anyone even has a chance to reply, you set the thread on silent. You can’t bear even getting a notification that the message can’t be sent, because you’re sure Bradley’s team aren’t too fond of you right now, and you wouldn’t be surprised if they’d blocked you in solidarity for their friend. But Bradley hadn’t even told his mom, would he have told his team? Would he even need to? Or would they notice the circles beneath his eyes worsening, the stubble adorning his cheeks from a lack of motivation to do anything productive? Or, maybe even worse, would they have seen him with another girl hanging off of his arm at a bar? Would they have caught him out to lunch with a woman and figured it out themselves?

“Hey,” Bradley rasps, effectively breaking your zoned-out worry spiral. Your eyes don’t lose their intensity but they focus on his pale face, and he offers you a weak smile, “Anyone respond?”

“Always the attention seeker,” Nick laughs, creating a distraction so perfect that you don’t bother checking the text to answer Bradley. “Should we tell ‘em to bring flowers too, Brad?”

“Shut up,” Bradley’s voice is far too quiet to be menacing, but it’s the type of teasing he always engages in with his old man, “When you were in the hospital you said I had to draw you one picture a day or you’d think I didn’t love you.”

“And I only got fifteen out of eighteen,” If Goose is capable of a withering stare, it’s what’s directed at Bradley now, “I can’t believe I bought a Bronco for a kid who doesn’t love me.”

“Alright, you two,” Carole swats at her husband’s arm, “Cut it out, don’t overwhelm him.”

“His heart’s beatin’ real fast,” Nick snickers, “But that’s probably ‘cause Miss Mitchell is doting all over him.”

The attention’s back on you, and it means Bradley’s waiting to hear your response. You dry swallow after sending Nick a good-natured eye-roll, trying to act like your heart isn’t beating ten times faster than Bradley’s.

Miraculously, nothing awful awaits you in the group chat. There’s no error messages, no scolding, no pledges of hatred for you, and it makes you think that you really might be able to get away with this for a while. Carole won’t tell, and that doctor said Bradley might not retain his memories for weeks. It’s like everyone has hit undo on what might be your biggest mistake in life, and you don’t know how to take the opportunity.

“Bob says he hopes you recover soon,” You push the panicked fog out of your head, reading in a low voice, “Hangman says he’s gonna give you flying lessons when you get back so that you,” You snort softly, “Get the hang of it, and to that, he is receiving a barrage of middle finger emojis.”

Rooster lets out a laugh, one that’s genuine and thick from his chest. It’s unlike his voice has been so far, it’s not fractured or achy, and the sound warms your heart. Some of the sickly despair that’s been coating your heart like globs of poison dries up, and you almost feel normal again when you slide your hand into his. He holds your back, and it’s like nothing’s ever happened.

You have your Bradley back; the only question is for how long.

Lunch is a sorry state of affairs for Bradley. His tray consists of chicken and gravy that runs into his mashed potatoes, and the jello they give him has a layer of cherry red liquid pooling overtop. You and Carole take turns spoon-feeding the man, giving each other a chance to mow through your sandwiches between bites.

Your dad watches out for the doctors while you sneak Bradley some of your sandwich. It’s cafeteria turkey, and honestly you’d rather go for the chicken on his plate, but he hums gratefully at the spread of mayonnaise and mustard on the bread.

“Thanks, babydoll.” He croons, a smear of mashed potatoes in his mustache that you wipe away with watery eyes at the nickname. He puckers his lips to kiss at your thumb and it’s like you’re at home on his birthday, feeding him in bed and stealing kisses between bites.

Bradley’s eyes start to droop halfway through his watery jello, and your dad stands, brushing sandwich crumbs off of his jeans.

“Alright, buddy,” He squeezes Bradley’s foot reassuringly, “I’ll head out. Probably best to let you sleep. Get some rest, and make her give us updates,” He narrows his eyes at you, accusatory, “I know you’ll be too wrapped up in him to remember we exist, but take some time away from his lips to tell me if he’s still breathing out of ‘em, m’kay?”

“Don’t be makin’ out too much, “Nick goads, standing when Carole grabs his hand and does herself, “His heart rate’ll skyrocket and the nurse is gonna think he’s havin’ a heart attack!”

‘Yes, yes, they love each other very much,” Carole hums, leaning down to kiss Bradley’s forehead. He leans into it but his hand stays in yours, and you gladly accept the same gesture from the woman on your cheek, “Let’s leave him be, okay? Brad, I’m coming back tomorrow morning,” She promises, “Your dad and Pete have some work to do in the backyard, but they’ll join us after lunch.”

The men don’t seem to have known about this yard work until now, and they share equally exasperated groans. 

“And I’ll be here,” You throw in, meeting Carole’s appreciative gaze, “I’ll stay until they throw me out.”

“You could always handcuff yourself to the bed,” Your dad hums, and you pointedly ignore Goose’s comment about the pair of handcuffs you ‘probably keep in your nightstand.’ It gets him a sharp smack upside the head from your dad, and you’re sure Nick will choose a better audience next time.

“We love you,” Carole promises, squeezing Bradley’s arm as he bids her goodbye, “We’ll see you tomorrow, baby!”

“Love you,” Bradley hums, voice less gruff than before now that he’s used it again, “See you tomorrow.”

The entire time he’s been awake, he hasn’t let go of your hand. He turns to you with those sleepy eyes of his, big and brown and begging for a kiss. You lean in before you can stop yourself, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

His heart rate picks up.

You laugh against his mouth at the increased beeping, and he’s barely sheepish as he nudges his nose against your own. You feel like you’re loving on borrowed time, like any second now he’ll be slammed with the memory of you breaking his heart, stomping all over it like it hadn’t been yours for the past 20 years - maybe all of your life.

“I love you,” He murmurs, squeezing your hand, “Y/N, I- I love you so much. I don’t remember anything,” He’s slurring his words slightly with fatigue, and you kiss the corner of his mouth as he speaks, “But I know you could have lost me forever, and I’m sure it wasn’t easy to handle.”

He has no idea how true his words are. Of course, you’d nearly lost his life to the crash. But two weeks earlier, you’d lost his touch, his voice, his gaze, his love, and you’re grateful the tears that line your eyes look natural.

“Mhm,” You nod, sniffling, “It was- it was hard, Brad.” You admit, thinking back to the night you’d left. You’d checked into a shitty motel for the night, and you’d cried yourself sick in the shower. Even after your stomach was emptied you couldn’t bring yourself to eat for two days afterwards, and you’d only given into the mini fridge after nearly passing out. Your days were long and spent regretting your decision, wondering if you’d ever be happy without him by your side, and worrying that he might be able to.

“I just keep wanting to do it over,” You gush, feeling his hand tighten around your own as you sob, “I- I wanted to take it back, to-” You swallow a sob, remembering your lines, “-to stop you from going to work. If I’d just made you stay…” Your face crumples with a gush of tears you aren’t able to hold back, and you give up on speaking for now.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Bradley hums, kissing the space between your nose and your cheek. It’s all he can reach from the way you’re sobbing into his pillow, and you’re thankful for the comfort you might not be able to get soon.

“You couldn’t have changed anything,” He promises, and you nestle your head into his own to absorb his soothing voice, “My plane was still the one with the defect, baby. I would have gone down tomorrow if not today. ‘S only a matter of time.”

A wave of sickness washes over you at his choice of words, and you nod, trying to regain a grip. You lift yourself up from the pillow, neck aching as you crane it to kiss his chin. He smiles at you, his eyes so genuine and sweet that it makes you want to lose your lunch; it’s an expression you don’t deserve anymore, even if you long for it. It’s only a matter of time before he remembers everything, and you don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t want you anymore.

“You’re tired,” You hum, and he nods against the pillow, “Sleep, baby. You need rest.” You sniffle, wiping away a tear from your eye more forcefully than you need to. You try to lean back in your chair but Bradley stiffens, and feel him tighten his grip on your hand.

“Please don’t leave me,” He begs, and more of that nausea comes rolling in. They’re the exact words he’d whimpered just next to your ear two weeks ago, keeping the door closed with one hand while the other wound around your waist. Then, you’d wormed your way out of his grip, ripping the door open despite his efforts to stop you and running off to your car. Now though, you meet his eyes, scared and desperate and lost, and you nod, scooting forwards to lay your head on his chest.

“I’ll stay,” You promise, and he raises a hand to brace it against your cheek. You turn your head to kiss his palm, and he strokes a thumb over your face, “I’ll stay, Bradley, I promise.”

The nap that you take on Bradley’s chest is the best sleep you’ve had since you left. Being in his embrace once more practically erases your undereye circles, and it takes you a few seconds after you wake up to remember that anything is out of the ordinary in the first place. Then it all comes flooding back, and you cycle through each stage of grief respectively while still slumped onto the bed. Then you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder, and you realize that Bradley’s nurse has shaken you awake.

“Hi,” The man smiles down at you, “Sorry to interrupt. I’m sure you didn’t want to wake up.”

“Oh,” You laugh hesitantly, slipping out from beneath Bradley’s hand and wiping away a slight glob of drool that had accumulated around the corner of your mouth, “No, no, it’s okay. What time is it?”

“Dinnertime,” Another nurse chimes from by the door, carrying another tray of meat and potatoes for Bradley, “Around six-thirty, Miss Mitchell.”

“You’re welcome to eat here with him,” The first nurse informs you, “But you’ll have to get something from the cafeteria, or order in. And visiting hours end at eight,” He levels you with a sympathetic smile, “But if you’ve got one bite left I won’t kick you out.”

“Thank you,” You chuckle wearily, your voice barely thickened with tears, “I appreciate that. Bradley,” You hum, squeezing his hand and stroking your free one through his hair, “Wake up, baby. They brought you some dinner.”

He comes to groggy, and you don’t blame him. He blinks a few times, then recognition washes over his face as he remembers why he’s there, and hopefully nothing else.

The nurses get busy with moving his bed, pressing buttons on the little remote strapped to the side until he’s inclined enough to eat his meal. The tray hooks into the sides of the bed so that he doesn’t have to hold anything, but you take his fork for him anyways, leaving his hands completely free.

“Thank you,” You nod gratefully at the nurses when they retreat for the door, a smear of mashed potatoes already gathered on the utensil in your hand. Bradley’s happy to let you feed him, humming at the taste of the beef they’ve given him. 

“Better than the chicken,” He hums, his voice gaining back a bit of its grating quality from earlier. He’s usually rough-voiced after a nap, so you don’t worry too much about it. Typically you indulge in his raspy morning voice, but now it seems insensitive. 

“Good,” You croon, scooping mashed potatoes and gravy onto a bite of the beef, “And it doesn’t bother your stomach?”

“What’s there to upset it, salt?” He grumbles around a mouthful, “Barely tastes like anything.”

“Sorry, Brad,” You hum, stroking a stray strand of caramel colored hair back into place, “I’m not supposed to feed you anything else, though.”

“I know,” He relents, lips puckering to kiss your wrist instead of wrapping around the spoon in your hand, “Not your fault, baby. But,” He rears back to takes the bite, chewing thoughtfully while you wait for his next sentence, “Can you bring me cookies tomorrow?”

You laugh, trying to keep it quiet in the slowly darkening hospital room. There’s no one around, and the door is closed, but his voice isn’t loud and you don’t want to overpower him. 

“I just said I wasn’t allowed to feed you anything else,” You roll your eyes affectionately, a teasing gesture you thought you’d never be able to do with the man anymore, “What makes you think I’d bring you cookies?”

“Um, ‘cause you love me?” Bradley drawls, voice finally rising to a healthy volume. Maybe it’s the food in his stomach, or maybe it’s a switch that was suddenly flipped in his chest, but he sounds like himself again.

His words sober your fantasy intoxication, and you smile sadly at him where he lays in his bed. You set the fork down to lay your hand over his cheek, your palm soaking in the warmth of his skin that’s newly returned.

“I do love you,” You promise, leaning in to kiss him. You have to lean over his plate to do so, and you’ll worry later about any potential gravy stains on your shirt. You go slow and gentle, worried that he’ll push you away for reasons he doesn’t remember yet. But he doesn’t. In fact, when you pull away to give him some air, he catches your wrist in a surprising display of agility for his weakened muscles, and you freeze in place.

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs, mustache shifting slightly with his apology, “I can’t stop thinking about you getting that call. I never-” His voice cracks, “I never wanted you to go through that.”

“Me neither,” You feel tears pricking at your eyes again, the same that are shining in Bradley’s, “But you don’t have to be sorry. None of this was your fault, and what matters is that you’re okay now. I have you back, Bradley, I- I didn’t lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me,” He vows, and your lips sting with the force of your bite to repress a sob. 

He lifts his head from his pillow, the first time he’s done it since waking up. He kisses your temple as you try not to cry, lips dotting staccato kisses against your skin as you tremble slightly.

“I promise, baby,” He hums softly into your skin as his hand comes up to hug you, “You won’t lose me.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” You cry, your fist gripping his hospital gown desperately. You want to believe him but it’s not even really Bradley talking, it’s three-weeks-ago Bradley that doesn’t remember you walking out of his life for self-preservation. It’s Bradley that doesn’t know the worst of you yet, but who could remember at any moment and cast you away.

“You won’t, I promise.” He coos, stroking up and down your back. You feel silly, accepting comfort from a hospital patient who went down in a fighter jet less than 24 hours ago, but you feel even sillier that it's the same man you’d torn to shreds days prior. But he’s comforting you, he’s rubbing your back, he’s kissing your face, and he’s promising you that you’ll never lose him, so you let him, because you love hearing him lie, even if he doesn't know he's doing it. 

“You promise?” You look up at him with watery eyes that blur out his face, but you see him nod. It’s unfair to ask, not when he doesn’t have the knowledge to truly promise. He cranes his neck forwards to bump noses with you, letting you cry against his skin.

“I do, honey.” He nods, holding you close like you’d never left at all,  “I promise.”

Going from crying into each other’s embraces back to eating bland mashed potatoes is hard, but you ease Bradley into it with a bite of granola bar you’d found in your purse. He’s grateful for something with flavor, and you’re glad to finally be rid of the half-eaten snack. 

“Oatmeal raisin cookies, please,” Bradley begs as he chews the snack, going as far as to bat his pretty lashes at you, brown eyes shiny with hope. 

You scoff, wiping a tear away from your face with a fond, albeit trembling smile, “Okay, Brad. Oatmeal raisin.”

“You’re the best,’ He hums, grinning with a mouthful of oats and chocolate. You check your phone to find that you’ve only got twenty minutes left until visiting hours are over, and your eyes dim as you glance back up at him.

“I have to go soon,” You lament, “Visiting hours are over in twenty.”

His face fades from its pretty smile, some of the newfound color draining from his skin once more. You’re sure he’ll have a nightmare tonight, something about jet crashes and dying alone, and you hate leaving him here so vulnerable.

“I’m sorry, baby,” You sniffle, squeezing his hand, “They open back up at 8 tomorrow, so as soon as I make those cookies I’ll be back, I promise.”

“I know,” He nods, raising your intertwined hands to kiss at your wrist, “It’s okay. Not your fault.”

“I’d stay overnight if I could.”

“I’d sneak you into my bed,” Bradley grins sadly, “S’alright, baby, just get a good night’s sleep. You deserve it after today.”

“You too,” You squeeze his hand, smiling sweetly at him, “And if you have a nightmare, text me, and I’ll crawl through the window, ‘promise.”

He laughs again, and now that he’s got most of his strength back it’s a normal sound. It’s not weak, it’s not subdued, it’s perfect. It’s Bradley.

“I’d like to see you try,” He teases, and you wipe a smear of chocolate off of his lower lip, remembering the first time you’d ever done that with a fond smile.

“I’m on the sixth floor.” He reminds you, and you shrug, sucking the chocolate off of your finger.

“Meh,” You crumble up the granola bar wrapper in your fist, “I could scale that easy.”

“Oh, really? Yeah, I bet you could,” Bradley chuckles, “You’re Spider-Man, suddenly? Sticking to walls? I must have forgotten your transformation.”

“Yeah, you did,” You grin with a laugh, “Actually, while I rushed over here to see you, a truck full of radioactive spiders crashed, and I got bitten by one. You’ve missed a lot, Brad.”

“Right,” Bradley’s brows raise, eyes alight with amusement, “Those radioactive spider trucks are a real nuisance, I hear.”

Giggling sweetly with him feels normal. The kind of normal you crave, the kind that isn’t settled for, but yearned for. And you’re clinging to it, pushing the truth out of your mind and playing the part perfectly.

A knock on the door interrupts your gigglefest and you turn in time to see the nurse from before entering, a bittersweet smile on his face. 

“I’m supposed to kick you out,” He jokes, holding Bradley’s chart, “And you’re free to sleep whenever, Mr. Bradshaw, we don’t need to conduct any more tests tonight. You’re just here to be monitored."

“Alright,” Bradley nods and you stand, still clasping his hand in yours. The doctor busies himself with straightening up the chairs around the bed, and you take the privacy he so kindly grants you.

“Sleep good,” You recite your pre-bedtime deployment sendoff to Bradley, the phrase having gathered dust in the back of your head since his last overseas assignment, “Sweet dreams, and call me when you can.”

“I will,” Bradley leans up to kiss you, going for your lips, then your cheek, then your chin, “You too, baby. Get some rest. I’m okay, I promise.”

“Yeah,” You beam down at him, smoothing his hair away from his forehead, “You’re okay, Brad.”

"See you tomorrow!" He calls as you leave, and you turn to nod.

"See you tomorrow, baby." You promise once more, hand on the door handle, "Goodnight."

“Sleep well, Mr. Bradshaw,” The nurse bids Bradley goodbye with a smile and a nod as you trail out behind him, and at the click of the door behind the two of you, it’s like you’re the recovering amnesia patient. Now that Bradley’s not there anymore, not smiling at you, not telling you he loves you, it’s like you can’t be sure of anything, like you’re still that imposter you’d been when you’d first stepped in. You come to the sickening realization, only after the fact, that you'd loved lying to Bradley, and it makes you feel worse. Your reverie is shattered, and the nurse beside you notices your shaky breathing as you trail down the hallway.

“Miss, are you okay?” His brows furrow in concern, and you nod.

“Yeah, just-” You smooth your hands down your pants, your palms sweaty, “It’s a lot. Being in there, seeing him like- like that. I guess I wasn’t prepared.”

“No one is,” The nurse smiles sympathetically at you, leading you to an elevator, “But he’s right, Miss Mitchell. He’ll be alright. And hopefully, his memories will restore themselves overnight. There’s a good chance he’ll wake up remembering it all.”

You’re sure that was meant to soothe you, but it’s only sent more nausea rolling through your body. You nod, forcing a smile as the doors shut between you, “Thank you, Nurse.”

Once the doors shut, you want to burst into tears. You don’t want the reception desk to see that, though, so you rush through the motions of leaving, practically running to your car. Once you’re safely inside the floodgates open, and you’re surprised you don’t trigger the horn from how hard you’re sobbing against the steering wheel.

You try to channel Bradley’s voice, ‘I promise baby, you won't lose me.’ but it makes things worse, it piles guilt on top of your sickness and makes you want to run away again. Because he’d promised you that he’d never leave you, not that he’d ever let you come back if you’d left him. And that’s what you’re worried about now.

Running away hadn’t stopped anything bad from happening, it just made you feel worse when bad things did happen. Thankful for your second chance, you swear to yourself in the stuffy silence of your car that you’ll do anything to fix this, and that you’re not going to fuck this up again because you’re scared. Love is scary, giving yourself completely to another person is scary, but Bradley’s always been good at soothing your fears, and there’s no one you’d rather give yourself to.

You steel yourself as you prepare to drive back to your motel, but second-guess it when you remember that Bradley has his phone with him. You have each other shared on Find My Friends, and he doesn’t normally check it unless he’s worried about your safety, but you’re paranoid that he’ll find your pin at a crappy motel and know something is wrong. So you punch in Bradley’s address instead, the one you used to share with him, still labeled as ‘home’, and set off.

The drive looks familiar in no time, and it reminds you of how much you’d missed it. The big oak tree on your neighbor’s lawn, the flag perpetually at half-mast because the man across the street fell while adjusting it and never fixed it, the tricycle on the sidewalk beside your front door that the toddler next door always seemed to leave on your walkway. You check the mail and feel something stabbing at your chest when your name is on one of the letters, and your house key is cold with disuse as you slide it into the slot.

You hesitate when the doorknob turns beneath your fingers. Walking into Bradley’s space will tell you exactly how he feels about what happened between you. There’s either going to be empty bottles strewn everywhere with pictures laying around covered in tear stains, or there’s going to be a hot pink bra in his bed, and a new woman’s makeup kit in his bathroom. Hell, maybe she’ll even still be there, maybe you’re about to walk in on your replacement.

But the promise you’d made to yourself in the car wasn’t for show, and you turn the knob after taking a deep breath, stepping into the darkened home.

You call out an uncertain ‘hello?’ into the place, waiting with bated breath for a woman’s voice to respond. But it never does, and you flick the light on beside the door.

You’d been right with one of your guesses.

It’s messy. Not exactly the outwardly disastrous type of messy you’d imagined earlier, but knowing all of the little things about Bradley means that you know he’s let himself go over the past two weeks. His running shoes are gathering dust by the door, which seems to suggest that he’s been lazing in bed just like you have. The living room is pristine, the pillows all arranged the way you set it up that Bradley doesn’t care to replicate, and you wonder if he’s sat on the couch at all the entire time since you’ve been gone. There’s no grocery list on the fridge and upon further inspection, the appliance is close to empty, one lonely beer left alongside ketchup, mustard, and a rotting head of lettuce. Unless he was eating the worst burgers known to man, you don’t think he’s been eating anything from the kitchen. Your heart aches for Bradley; you hope he’s been ordering food in.

Walking through the space is like revisiting a crime scene as the killer. Everything here is because of you, the pictures stripped from the walls are gone because of you, the lonely toothbrush in the dual holder is because of you, the neatly made side of the bed with its messy counterpart is because of you. 

You realize that it’s your side that’s slept on, Bradley’s still tucked neatly in place, unused. You spot a red covering over your pillow, reaching for it and finding it to be an old t-shirt of yours that Bradley had raided your dresser drawers for. It’s one he’d bought you at a tourist trap on your vacation a few years ago, and it was your favorite to lounge in. You notice a dark spot on the fabric and only then realize that you’re crying, that it’s a tear that had fallen from your eye. Then it’s like everything hits you all at once, and you sink onto the mattress clutching the pillow. It smells like Bradley, and you know he’s been clinging to it every night, a thought that solidifies your sneaking suspicion that you might be the worst person on the planet.

You curl up and cry there, you don’t know for how long. All you can do is sob, soak your pillow with tears that you thought you were out of, clutch the bedsheets like they’ll reveal Bradley, hidden underneath and eager for a cuddle. This bed feels as empty as the motel’s had, maybe even emptier, because you’ve never slept in it away from Bradley. When he’s on deployment you always have a sweatshirt of his and a picture of him tucked under the pillow, but you know it won’t be there now. Now you’re alone, really alone. 

Your eyes droop and you know you need sleep, especially if you’re going to wake up early to make Bradley cookies in time for visiting hours to start. But you can’t bring yourself to sleep without the picture of him under his pillow, so you stumble out of bed to fetch it from your box of memories.

Your fingers close around the slightly wrinkled photo, a shot of you in a gown and Bradley in a suit. It’s one you’d taken yourself at your graduation, high school turned college sweethearts. He had wanted admission into the Naval Academy, but in order to spend more time with you, you’d enrolled together at a university. It’s your favorite photo to have with you, and you reach out to Bradley’s pillow to slide it underneath. Upon lifting the pillow, you find a stack of pictures already there. Each one of you, most with Bradley pictured in them too. They only make you cry harder, and you recognize some as the inserts of the picture frames that had been taken down from the hallway.

It looks like Bradley hoarded photos of you, and some are stiff and stained with tears. The sight is something out of a movie, a dramatic indication of the inner turmoil of its main character. You see a shot of your silhouettes together, faces darkened by the sun streaming in behind you. You’re kissing on the beach, and without paying much mind to the structural integrity of the photo, you clutch it to your chest.

You’re a wreck. You just want your Bradley back, but your Bradley isn’t yours anymore. You want three-weeks-ago Bradley back, the one who you didn’t run away from. But he’ll probably have his memories back by tomorrow, and there’s no telling if he’d even want you to visit again. Looking at the sorry state of his apartment, you know he misses you, but whether he wants you back is another question altogether. All you can do is wait and worry, and worry you do. As you sob and heave in the bed, your brain shuts down, and eventually you drift into a dreamless, unpleasant sleep, nose still buried in your shirt that smells like Bradley.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[onelittlespiral]

Hey, it's been pretty hard to motivate myself to write lately with my new job, so I want to reward someone who's doing a great job getting his work done lately. I want to give idesofrevolution a nice musky dudebro transformation he'll really love, and hopefully the mystery transformation gives me some more free time to be horny and creative.

Subject: Order #100690

Dear Fred,

Thank you for your recent purchase from The Spiral, home for all your transformation needs! Your order #100690 has been received and is on its way as we speak. Your order includes:

(1) Bro(Musk)_From_Friend(Online; Blog)

(1) Mystery(Self)

Please note that due to the subject’s history with transformations, delivery methods may be delayed or gradual. Expect fulfillment in 2-3 weeks.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

You couldn’t wait to hear back from The Spiral, checking your inbox every couple of hours for any updates on delivery. Training was slow and boring at the new office, so there wasn’t much to do besides sit through the standard HR videos on one monitor and scroll social media on the other. That was when you received an email notification. You opened it up, and excitement turns to disappointment. Just another boring diversity video. You pop it up on the side, plug in your headphones, and wait for the stock music and graphics to start. Except, this one is different. You are watching from a first person perspective as a man walks into a room and lies down on a couch. The camera captures his enormous pecs, hiding the rest of his torso, as they flex a little. You glance around the office, nervous about who may be watching. Something must be wrong, this can’t be your afternoon assignment. But your eyes are drawn back to the screen when the door opens again and another beautiful man graces the screen. Your eyes fix on his, as he leans into the camera for a kiss. You can almost feel his heat through the screen, and you’re soon relaxed in your chair, watching the show.

As he slowly grinds against you, you subconsciously begin to rub at your own crotch, simulating his movements. You begin to feel a horny fog fill your mind as you begin to buy into the fantasy, beginning to ignore your surroundings and forget about your coworkers. It isn’t long before your dick is fully out, imaging how good it feels to have his soft hands rubbing your hardening member. You don’t even notice how much you are beginning to leak pre-cum, synchronized with when he places his delicate lips on your cock and takes the whole member in one motion. You lean back in your chair and let the waves of pleasure relax your muscles. You begin to feel so heavy, as your arms grow tired of stroking. You place them behind your head, letting this experience overtake you as you continue to have your cock expertly worked by a pro. You begin to match his tempo, thrusting in time. Your grunts are getting deeper as you begin to get close. Your partner feels it coming, and steadies his tempo. He doesn’t want you to come too soon. But the fog in your brain is only intensify, leaving you more aroused by the moment. You aren’t able to hold it in much longer.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum in you, and you better not miss a drop,” you say, and his eyes show understanding. You reach out and tug at his hair, taking control of the tempo as his eyes begin to water. But he doesn’t have to worry for too long. You are soon dumping your load in his stomach, and he cums hands free in turn, as the director gets the money shot.

“CUT! That’s a wrap.”

Your partner gets up and wipes himself down. You just grab your shorts and sit back down on the couch.

It’s going to be a long day of shooting, but you love it. At least here you get to be horny and own it. And, more importantly, get paid. Could be worse. You could be stuck at some stuffy office job. Just then your phone buzzes with a notification. One of your friends just posted, let’s see… oh, @idesofrevolution. Good thing too, you had been worried about Frost. Annnnd a second notification from your management company, The Spiral. They were sending you some confirmation info… something about the Doctor himself coincidentally enough. Seemed to be some details about a movie scene or something meant for him, so probably some mix up. Let’s see what it says…

Dr. Frost was has some background knowledge on our methods from years of research into his own transformation methods. Consequently we took a more gradual approach. Slowly, we began introducing neural waves throughout his day to prime him. In his home, in his car, on his blog, we implemented subtle messages about growth. About muscle. About musk. After all, who needs to waste so much time showering every day? When his deodorant sticks keep going missing, what was the point in buying more? After all, he no longer had much time to go to the store, as he logged off from work and drove straight to the gym every day. At first he wondered why he was suddenly so worried about his health. But as we continued to amplify our waves, he soon stopped worrying. It was natural to want to be strong. It was natural to reek. It was natural to feel good, bro. I’m in control.

As his musk intensifies, he is only conditioning himself to become more and more self indulgent. We began alternating frequencies, sending his testosterone through the roof, driving a new crop of hair growth and keeping his balls plenty full. Between his pit stench and constant gym pump, he is keeping himself at a near constant leak of pre-cum, and quickly soiling any attempt at covering himself up. Not that he cares. He hasn’t showered in a few weeks, only allowing himself tongue baths from whatever gym bro he catches staring and manages to get into his truck for a make out sesh. His memories are evaporated, nothing more than a sweat stain on his favorite cap. His brain is so high on his own supply, our neural waves had to be amplified to get through his brain fog. Hell, he can hardly form a proper sentence, bro. We have taken the liberty of updating his blog to more accurately reflect his new interests. His stories have been replaced with his thirst traps and progress photos. We are satisfied with his progress and have left him to continue his journey of his own, new and improved, free will.

You should really reach out to him sometime. See if he wants to take his modeling career in a new, more exciting direction. Could be fun to suck that musky cock…

Subject: Order #100690 Fulfilled

Dear Fred,

Your order has been fulfilled. We know you have many options, but thank you for supporting The Spiral.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

[sexyandcringe]

Hopeless romantic

Part 1 ◇ Part 2 ◇ Part 3

Warnings: reader drinking (nothing serious though), mention of sexism by reader's parents.

Content: osamu x reader, Angst (to fluff in the next chapters), hurt/comfort

A/n: Guess the Song of Achilles reference! :)

It has been around three weeks since you last saw Osamu that day: you took your chance to scurry away when he went back into the kitchen briefly, leaving your payment to Tsumoto.

The memory of his embrace with another woman still lingered in your mind, but you were able to distract yourself with the hundreds of books on your shelf and the dogs in the shelter.

You took this time to explore other places in the city, from the cozy Indian restaurant near your workplace, where the taste of salty chapati mixed with matar paneer melted in your mouth like butter, to the Mexican fast food spot at the corner of the library, where you savoured the taste of chiles en nogada followed by elotes. Yet,  nothing compared to Osamu’s handmade onigiris, the taste of his love surpassed any food you’ve ever tried.

You don’t believe he didn’t notice your absence, but it wouldn’t bother him that much, you assume, since you’re nothing more than a friendly regular. 

Or at least, you used to be a regular.

Now you are just a girl who spends her days between work and shelter,  occasionally going out to drink with the few friends you have. You know it’s wrong to use alcohol to dull the suffering, but sometimes it’s the only way to remind yourself that life still holds meaning, and that happiness, however fleeting, can be found.

But not going to Osamu’s restaurant has its consequences, like going to the grocery store to buy all the necessities to make a healthy meal and right now you are not exactly having fun doing all this.

When you were a child, your mother always told you to learn how to cook and clean because “someday you’ll have to do it for your future husband”, so, as an act of rebellion, you refused to learn anything other than the most basic dishes of your culture; this act of rebellion ended up biting your ass now because you are tired of eating the same basic things over and over again and you miss Osamu’s food.

You wander through the aisles, searching for the ingredients of the recipe you want to try.

it has been at least half an hour now and you’re meticulously selecting each item, trying to get the correct amount of food. You always tend to buy more than necessary, which ends up with you never using that specific product again and making it go to waste—like the honey syrup you bought for your pre-made pancakes that now sits untouched. You don’t even have time to eat breakfast most of the time. 

You are trying to understand which vegetables are less decayed than others when someone approaches you slowly. 

“That one will go bad in like 2 days.” 

You startle at first, but you freeze completely the second you meet his eyes.

“Hey.” he smiles.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god, please why did he have to come here out of all the grocery stores in the city?

You tried to forget about him like an unwanted pest, avoiding all the places he could be at, you even chose a longer path home so you wouldn’t bump into him while he closed the restaurant. You are old and tired and so is your heart, it can scarcely bear the burden of yet another heartbreak.

You drew in a slow, steadying breath before replying.

“Hi Osamu, long time no see.” you try your best to beam at him, like nothing has touched you, like you don’t want to run away this instant, like you don’t want to scream at him and hurl all these vegetables at him because you hate him for shattering the last remnants of hope you had left in you.

Like you don’t love him at all.

You tend to buy more than necessary, just like you tend to let your feelings grow more than necessary, and then, then they stay there, growing and decaying at the same time, festering with pests and resentment.

“Yeah, because someone hasn’t been coming to my restaurant lately.” He remarked with a petty edge to his voice.

Well, you jumped into that one.

A nervous laugh leaves your lips, “I was just … busy. We got a few more dogs in the shelter and it’s been a little hectic.” your voice is barely a whisper, laden with the weight of your lies.

Coward, liar, ugly.

He nods in quiet understanding, picking a zucchini with a pristine surface, a stark contrast to your rotten life. “Take this one. What’re ya making?.”

You take the vegetable from his hands and place it in your bag, his kindness pressing against the walls you've erected around your fragile heart “I don’t know,” you sigh, “I'm trying to make some vegetarian lasagna, but I already know it's going to suck. I’m a terrible cook.”

“You can always learn, you know.” he counters, a playful smirk gracing his lips “I wasn’t born with a knife in my hand.”

You roll your eyes, pushing your cart forward. “I’m lazy. And I don’t have anyone to teach me in a fun way.”

“I could teach you. Although I'm not sure if I can do it ‘in a fun way’” he signs with his fingers, “you won't die of boredom, I guess?”

“I’m always having fun with you, Osamu.”  And it’s true.

“That’s crazy considering that you haven’t come to meet me in three weeks.”

“Oh god, you’re so petty!” 

“Hell yeah, I am!”

You stare at each other before bursting into loud giggles; his eyes crinkle as he looks at you and you try so hard to ignore the warmth of your cheeks.

(and the warmth in your chest).

You are not used to being loved but you are used to love, and you can’t help wanting to stay around those you love, can’t ignore the tugs of your heartstrings. You know it will only end up in heartache and you are already regretting what’s coming out of your mouth, but you can’t stop it.

“Well? Will you teach me then?”

He smiles, and his face is like the sun.

Reblogs are really appreciated!

Tag: @lees-chaotic-brain

[thinkwosolife23]

The Set-up, Leah Williamson

In Y/N's POV:

"You expect me to do what!"

Okay, let's rewind a bit.

I'm Y/N Steinfeld. Yes, it just so happens that my older sister is Hailee Steinfeld. And, it also just so happens that i'm a singer, just like her.

I never did the acting like Hailee has, my main focus has always been my music. I've always done really well with my music. So at the end of this year, I start my very first World Tour. After 5 number 1 singles and a number 1 album, it made sense for a World Tour to be my next step.

However, unbeknown to me, my agent had other plans.

And this is where it all begins.

Somehow, i've ended up on a plane, with my sister and agent, flying from America to England.

2 weeks ago:

The phone call:

Me and Hailee were currently sat in our shared studio; just messing around with different tracks, when my phone rang.

"Hello?" I said when I answered the phone.

"Hi Y/N, it'a Nick." My agent answers.

"Oh, is everything okay?"

"Yes. Well, sort of." He sounded hesitant, almost nervous.

Hailee glanced at me with a questioning look, to which I just shrugged my shoulders at. I was as confused as she was.

"Y/N, I need you to hear me fully out on this okay." He continued.

"I'm not gonna like this, am I?" I could feel myself getting more fustrated at his ominious answers.

"So, as you know, we need to get as much publicity around you as we can before your tour."

"Yeah? Can you just get to the point Nick!"

"Right. Yeah, sure. Me and another agent have been in contact over the past couple of weeks regarding your publicty and we've come up with a plan to heavily boost your publicity." Nick told me, still hesitant to finish.

"And what is this plan?" By this point, my patience running thin. Hailee always knew when I was getting fustrated at something, and gently took ahold of my hand, trying to calm me down.

"Long story short, we are basically planning to stage a relationship. However, it is required of you to be in England for this, so your going to have to fly out."

"You expect me to do what?"

"Y/N, your tour is in jepardy if your don't do this." His voice becoming firmer as he spoke.

"What! So your telling me, that if I don't do this stupid publicity stunt, that I won't be able to go on MY tour. Do you know how fucked up that is?" Anger and fustration now, completely getting the best of me.

"Your flight is booked for 2 weeks from today. You and Leah will be expected in a meeting the day after you land." He answered, not even acknowledging my arguement.

"Leah? Who's Leah?"

"Leah Williamson. She has just captained the England Women's Team to winning the European Championship. Obviously, winning the Euros has brought a lot of attention to her name. Hense, why she is the option we have goe with."

"Right, so, an arrogant, cocky footballer. How lovely."

To say that I was angry would be an understatement. My hands running through my hair in fustration as Hailee pulled my phone from my hold.

"Nick, it's Hailee. I think it's best if you finish this conversation another time. You've clearly upset her, so I would leave her alone for now."

I couldn't hear Nick's response to Hailee. But after a couple of minutes the phone call ended.

Hailee placed herself down, next to me, wrapping her arms around me. Tears now flooding down my face in fustration and realisation of having to leave my country, let alone home, for someone I don't even know.

"Sis, look at me. Whatever it is, we'll get through it." She told me, grabbing my chin to look at her.

"He's making me go to England for some stupid footballer."

"Wait, woah. Calm down, he's making you do what?"

"I've got to go to England. They want to stage a relationship between me and this Leah, to basically bring more attention to me for my tour. But he told me, that if I don't do it, my tour could be cancelled." I told her, through stuttered breaths.

"Right, okay. So, this Leah girl, she hot or no?"

"Hailee, you can't say that." I said, laughing slightly at her outburst.

"Why not? Only the best for my sister. And I made you smile."

Back to now.

Me and Hailee have just arrived, with Nick, for the meeting with Leah and her agent.

We were there before them, so we were already sat and waiting by the time they got there.

Oh Shit. That's Leah.

She fucking gorgeous.

Fuck Me.

Right Y/N, get yourself out of them thoughts. Your not actually supposed to fancy her.

"Hey, i'm Leah." She said, as she got to me, holding her hand out for me to shake.

"I'm Y/N." I took her hand in mine, giving it a squeeze before quickly smiling at her and gently letting her hand go.

Her hands. God, there so soft.

After all the introductions, and everyone meeting each other. All 5 of us sat back down at the table.

We had to listen to our agents bang on about how this plan was supposed to work and what me and Leah had to do to make it believable. They spoke for a good half an hour. I hope they don't expect me to remember all of that.

Leah was sat opposite me. She kept pulling faces and rolling her eyes when either one of the agents were talking. making sure only I saw her doing it, it made me smile back at her before putting my head down so I didn't laugh out loud.

"Right, I think that's everything. We'll leave you two to get to know each other." Nick said, which pulled me out of my thoughts.

Nick, Hailee and Leah's agent all left the table, heading towards another room, leaving me and Leah alone in ther room.

"So…" I said, kind of akwardly. Not really knowing what to say.

"I've followed you for ages, y'know." Leah told me, after another couple minutes of silence.

"You have?"

"Yeah, I love your music. My teammates do too, but they always complain that I play your songs a slight bit too much, before and after matches."

"Your making me feel bad now." I told her, feeling kind of guilty.

"Why? What did I do?"

"No, no. You didn't do anything. I just, when I got told about all of this and you, I didn't really know who you were. Football has never really been my thing."

"Well, at least you say football and not stupid soccer. And hold up, your telling me that you've never watched or been to a football match." Leah said shocked, jokingly clutching her chest.

"No."

"Well, that's definatly gonna have to change. You'll have to come and watch me play."

"You want me to come and watch one of your games."

"Yeah, course."

Her hand reached out for mine, across the table, mine going straight into hers as if it was normal. It felt comfortable, almost natural for us.

"You know, I don't want this whole thing to be all contract and serious. I want us to be comfortable with each other and for us to be able to have fun. The least I want is a friend by the time it's all over."

Maybe this won't be as bad as I thought it would be.

INSTAGRAM

y/n.steinfeld added to story

[chaoskull]

Briton Rivière - Una and the Lion

Devoided of Words - part 2

Lion El'Johnson x fem!reader

Summary: Lion has now learned about his mistakes, but in a moment of closeness in isolation, was he truly able to keep such a promise of composure?

Thank you so much for the love on Part 1!

Here is part 3!

Finally finished part 2, I'm not sure what happened, I had a clear vision on the start, but then I just kept going.

Days have passed since she last saw him, from what she has heard, nothing like that has happened ever since, it was most likely he'd been in the castle for a week.

Unexpectedly, as she wanders through the fortress, she hears the voice of Luther.

A window seat outlooks a patio below, if she's lucky enough she may be able to see him, so she sits inclined forward to observe the scene below her. She can't quite make the situation he's being punished for, but through the strings of curses, and the anger of the one reprimanding him, she can recognize that he won't be able to leave his wrath until he deems him conscious of his actions.

Lion stares at the man, Luther scolds him, but all he thinks is how those men dared to take him away from you days ago, their smell must've been all over you, he despises the ideia. He wished nothing more than to hold you again, bathe you in his scent, he must take you away from them, where no one is to find your location, to be the two of you alone in your closeness.

He knows what he's done is wrong, the look Luther gives him says much, but he ignores the motive he was actually here for, he is to find you tomorrow at best, perhaps you may be near the place he once found you.

Something catches his attention, he's being watched, instinctively he looks up only to find her, she quickly tucks her head in to view him more discreetly, blocking his sight of her. The words stop for a moment and she hears the movement of steps of someone in armor.

Luther approaches the boy, he follows the boy's gaze to the window and he questions Lion, firmly pointing up to the window, he looks back at him dismissively, Luther sighs and pats the boy on the shoulder leading him away.

Now she's curious of the boy's behavior, she'll have no other way, she must find him and have her answers. He might've not spoken to her, but his conviction afflicted her, his utmost obstinacy and determination captivated her. ‘Today I must wait, they don’t seem to want to leave him alone yet’ she concludes.

Luther never thought one could improve their knowledge in such short time, and yet the young man, who he discovered, is far more clever than others he'd deem near his age, in addition to that, he knew nothing before he was taken to study.

To learn a language, as late as the boy started, is both complicated and grueling. He heard from a few colleagues that it would be hard to teach the boy, but this case is exceptional.

Values and morals are complex to understand, but Lion seems to absorb them at an incredible rate.

However, the knight can be stressed at times the beastly habits the boy shows appear erratically, it was to be expected. He was to make Lion into an honored person, he decided it'd be best to teach him another lesson on the matter.

He guides Lion to a study, where he can learn and be uninterrupted, as it seems the boy seems not to care for his teaching. The walls of the room seem to be entirely covered in books, he takes a long while finding which to take as he looks back he's met with the bored gaze of the boy, he's in desperate need to find a second tutor to supervise him.

A round wooden table is positioned in the middle of the room, he places a book he deems fit to educate the young man on it and sits, gesturing for Lion to do the same.

He does what the man asked of him and sits, he did not wish to be reprimanded again, specially after being chastised in her presence, it was humiliating to know that she was attentively watching as Luther shouted rules and principals at him, he doesn’t feel anger as much as he’s ashamed, he thinks she know what it meant when he was punished, that he was wrong for his doing, and so if he was to see her again only for her refuse him as she initially did.

The book cracks when opened, Lion awakes from his thoughts, and Luther starts, he speaks with clarity to emphasize every syllable, the boy was sick of this, he takes a look at the book, searching for words, focusing on their meaning, he points to 'need' and 'girl’.

He did not want to be separated from her so quickly, their moment together was far too short, and yet he yearns for her.

"You've known her for minutes! What are you talking about?!" Luther exclaims, perplexed by his proclamation, "No, you do not." He says as clearly as possible for the boy to definitely understand.

The answer is a simple connection for Lion now, the opposite of ‘no’. "Yes." Lion replies, it's been days since he uttered a word from his mouth, his deep voice, without practice, is hoarse as he speaks. “So now you speak, I see” Luther is starting to feel more irritated by the second.

“I will take you to her, you finish this first” He gives in to the boy’s wishes to prevent what could become a far worse scenario.

Lion's eyes are now trained to the book in full concentration, he silently hears the teachings, just as how it was in his initial days, when he was completely foreign to civilization.

As Luther explains to him the subject of human relations yet again, he disciplines the boy about the importance of boundaries to prevent the boy from being part of another disastrous scene. Lion waits for this expendable conversation to end.

Lesson concluded, as promised, Luther took the boy to where she could possibly be, he found her at a secluded watchtower, now abandoned, many artifacts, books, and scrolls could be seen everywhere.

She was sitting on a couch that was pushed in front of a bookshelf but quickly got up to greet them. What he did not expect was to not be acknowledged, she looked at Lion, who stood still as if he was asking for a cue so he could act.

The look they give each other is what one could describe as embarrassment or nervosism. Luther stands in front of the girl, grabbing Lion by the arm as if he'd latch himself at her immediately if he were let go, they were two adolescents, an adult figure interfering their communication, and so they stare at each other not knowing what to do.

Although it's clear something else is present in Lion's mind, he seems tense at the presence of Luther near you, his jaw was clenched, shapely eying the man, he wishes to get rid of him.

“I've come to you as it seems Lion is fond of your company, I am in need to have a reunion with members of the order” Luther speaks breaking the silence, he pats the boy on the shoulder and takes his leave. “I'll leave you two be, Lion” He says in a warning tone.

The moment the knight is out of sight he gets closer, he knows you won't be interrupted a second time if he is to be less abrupt, so he tries to get near her as caustically as possible. That is in his view to walk towards her and embrace her in his arms.

Luckily she expected it to be like this and so she lets him hold her, waiting until his grip on her loosens a little to move back.

“Do you… speak now or…?” She tentatively asks and receives no verbal answer, only another grunt.

He tries again to envelope her in an embrace, but she quickly catches his arms holding in place, he leans forward anyways, in what could be almost considered a careful attempt to pounce on her, only to make her stumble from his weight and fall back to the couch.

She winces, being squashed between him and the furniture. “What a graceful hunter you must've been.” she comments and is met by a displeased gaze from Lion. “...you understand me?” she asks, curious to know if he knew what she said.

He presses her further on the couch only to drop himself entirely on top of her, pulling his arms off her hands. He nods, no matter how much he learns, he's always kept himself silent, although now that could change, there is more that stops him from doing so.

Even in an environment that is foreign to him, Lion had always had himself in control, as a hunter he'd have a plan for all possible scenarios in his head. Now his issue was not one in need of a violent or authoritarian resolve, he was to present himself in a much different way, one he had no idea on how to do so.

Caring gestures were out of his mastery, as of now he's found a solution, closeness. At times, in the forest and castle, he'd been observant of the couples, both beast and human, one common factor had always been fisical affinity.

In truth, the reason for his lack of words was that Lion was not trusting of his speech, he had no knowledge of the habits of humans in such regard, as the subject seems to be closed for those who participate in such costumes and Luther had no interest in teaching him about such things.

The girl was waiting for a response that would not be uttered, even if he did know what she said meant he could not answer her yet. His expression said enough, he thinks, although in her vision he practically didn't move a line on his face. But one thing didn't change, his eyes, once again, almost made her tremble in his hold.

He leans in, his face getting closer to hers for a second - she notices the awful bruise he must've gotten had healed already - only to nuzzle on her hair and shoulder. She will be certainly his, he'll make sure they will all know that.

“What are you doing, Lion?” She says, just to avoid having a long period of stillness.

Placing her hands on his shoulder blades she can feel the rise and fall of his breaths, and when doing so she notes a fairly small hum coming from his throat.

Shifting slightly to properly lay on the couch she accidentally drops a book she was reading before. The action surprised Lion, lifting himself from her to look at the perpetrator only to find another book, how he despises them now.

She reaches out for it but is stopped by Lion who takes it himself and is about to throw it across the room “You want to read it?” He stops to look at her, she seems so interested as she looks at him in fascination, an itch let her read it takes ahold of him, no matter how much he despises when Luther does so.

Shoving the book to her, she takes it, and opens to reveal what appears to be a historical book, she does not truly know what could be understood by him, but regardless she starts to read to him.

Lion didn't care for it, he stopped listening after a while, all he could concentrate on was her voice, her lips, and eyes. He had to sit beside her, inclining into her back. A hunting beast can wait patiently for long before they are certain they'll claim their prey, and now he embraces her, in a blissful moment, as if his life depended on it.

A true successful capture would be if no one was to disturb the two of them, but that will soon happen no matter how much he's against it.

I'm not sure I'll be able to continue writing so I kinda left it on an open ending, hope yall like it!

[fanboyswhore9]

The Proposal (Pt.2)~ Sherlock Holmes

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill’s version) x Fem! reader

Contains: Henry Cavil, marriage of convenience, childhood lovers, long lost love, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

Summary: After receiving the letter, Fem!reader’s family is reluctant about their sudden news for their engagement. And following their wedding day, where family and friends gather to witness their union. Despite Sherlock’s typical reluctance toward emotional expression, he delivers heartfelt vows, revealing how much she has meant to him all these years. The ceremony is intimate, emotional, and marks the beginning of a new chapter in their lives together as husband and wife.

A/N: HERE IS PT. 1 if you haven’t read it already.

A few months before the wedding, she sat nervously in her family’s parlor, her fingers intertwined with Sherlock’s beside her. The letter she had sent weeks ago was the reason for this tense gathering. Across from them sat her mother and father, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion. Her grandmother, ever sharp, was watching them carefully, while her sister stood by the window, quiet but clearly intrigued by what was about to unfold.

Her father broke the silence first, his voice firm but not unkind. “We’ve received your letter. This engagement to Sherlock Holmes—well, it was… unexpected, to say the least.” Her mother, eyebrows furrowed in concern, added, “You’ve barely seen him for years, and now you’re planning to marry? It feels so rushed, darling.”

Her heart pounded, knowing this would be a difficult conversation. She squeezed Sherlock’s hand under the table, feeling his steady presence beside her. He remained calm, his sharp eyes observing the room, ready to speak when necessary.

“I understand why this feels sudden,” she began, her voice steady despite the tension. “But Sherlock and I have always had a connection, even when we were apart. I know this may seem unconventional, but it’s right for us.” Her father leaned forward, his brow creased. “Sherlock is a brilliant man, but he’s not exactly known for being emotionally available. His work is his life. Can you really expect him to make room for a marriage?”

Before she could respond, Sherlock spoke up, his voice low and composed but tinged with conviction. “I understand your concerns, sir, and they are not unfounded. My work has been, and will continue to be, a significant part of my life. But I assure you, I am fully capable of making room for what is most important to me—and that is your daughter.”

Her father looked at him, eyebrows raised, but Sherlock didn’t waver. His hand tightened slightly around hers, a silent reassurance. “I know who Sherlock is,” she said, her voice firm. “I’ve seen sides of him most people don’t. He may seem detached, but he has a heart, and he’s willing to share that with me. We’ve talked about this, and I know what I’m getting into.”

Her mother sighed, exchanging a glance with her father. “We’re only worried because we want you to be happy. You deserve someone who can give you a stable life.” Sherlock shifted slightly, speaking before she could. “You’re right to want that for her, ma’am, but I don’t believe stability lies in a predictable life. I can’t promise an ordinary existence, but I can promise that I will care for her, respect her, and do everything in my power to make her happy.”

Her grandmother, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, her voice raspy but strong. “Love isn’t always about comfort and security. It’s about finding someone who makes your heart feel full, even if the road is rough.” Her sharp gaze shifted to Sherlock. “Tell me, young man, do you love her?” Sherlock met her grandmother’s eyes, and for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. He paused, considering his words carefully. “Yes. I do. More than I’ve been able to express properly. But I am trying, and I will continue to try, for her.”

A tear welled up in her eyes as she looked at him, and he glanced at her with a softness few people ever saw. Her sister, who had been standing by the window, finally spoke up, a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s clear she’s thought this through. If Sherlock’s willing to step away from his cases long enough for a wedding, I’d say he’s serious.” She grinned. “Besides, how many people can say their sister’s marrying Sherlock Holmes?”

The tension in the room lightened slightly at her sister’s words, and her father sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re a grown woman, and if this is truly what you want, we won’t stand in your way.” Her mother nodded, though the worry still lingered in her eyes. “We just want to be sure you’ll be taken care of.” Sherlock, his tone gentle but resolute, said, “I will do everything in my power to ensure that she is.”

Her grandmother leaned forward, taking her hand with a surprisingly strong grip. “Then you have my blessing, dear. Just make sure this man understands how lucky he is to have you as his wife, my dear girl.” Sherlock gave a small, respectful nod. “I assure you, ma’am, I do.”

Her heart swelled with emotion, and she blinked back tears, squeezing her grandmother’s hand. “Thank you, grandmother. That means the world to me.” Her father stood, offering her a smile that was both proud and resigned. “Well, I suppose we should start preparing for a wedding, then.” Her mother sighed but smiled as well, standing to embrace her. “We’ll support you, no matter what.”

As her family began discussing the details of the upcoming wedding, she felt an immense weight lift from her shoulders. She had been prepared for a harder fight, but Sherlock’s presence and his words had made all the difference. With their blessing, she knew her future with Sherlock was not only possible—it was right.

When the conversation finally began to wind down, Sherlock gave her a small, almost imperceptible smile. She returned it, squeezing his hand again in silent gratitude. He had been there for her when she needed him most, and they had faced this challenge together. He hugged the woman, shook her father’s hand, and thanked everyone as they were getting ready to leave.

Later, as they left her family’s home, walking side by side, she couldn’t help but feel more certain than ever that this—they—were worth fighting for. And now, with her family’s support and Sherlock by her side, the life they were about to build together felt more real and more promising than ever.

~TIME SKIP~

The morning sun filtered through the lace curtains of the bridal suite, casting soft light on the elegant folds of her ivory wedding dress. She stood before the full-length mirror, smoothing the delicate fabric with trembling hands. Today was the day—the day she never imagined would come, at least not like this.

Her mind wandered to Sherlock. What was he doing right now? Was he calm and composed, as always, or had some of the weight of the moment cracked through his famous veneer? She smiled at the thought. Sherlock Holmes, the brilliant detective who had captured her heart all those years ago, was about to become her husband.

A soft knock broke her thoughts. The door creaked open, revealing her sister, eyes wide with excitement. “You look incredible,” she whispered, stepping inside and carefully shutting the door behind her. She turned to face her younger sister, who grinned and pulled her into a quick hug. “I can’t believe it’s finally happening. You’re marrying him.” “Neither can I,” she replied with a soft laugh. “Are they all here?”

Her sister nodded. “Everyone’s downstairs waiting. Mom and Dad are practically buzzing, and Grandmother is more excited than I’ve ever seen her. Even Enola’s here, which was a surprise considering how much she avoids these kinds of things.”

Her heart swelled. It meant the world that her family, friends, and loved ones were here to witness this day. They had all been such an integral part of her life, but none more than Sherlock. Another knock came, this time more deliberate, and in stepped John Watson, his suit crisp and neat. He grinned as soon as he saw her. “You look amazing,” he said, his voice full of warmth.

“Thank you, John,” she replied with a soft smile. “How’s Sherlock?” John chuckled, shaking his head. “Nervous. He’s doing his best to hide it, but even Mycroft has commented on how much he’s been pacing. And you know Mycroft rarely mentions Sherlock’s emotions, so that’s saying something.”

The sisters both let out a giggles at John’s comment. The thought of Sherlock being anything other than composed seemed almost impossible, yet it comforted her to know that this day meant as much to him as it did to her. John stepped closer, offering his arm. “Ready to get married?” She nodded, taking a deep breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The small chapel Sherlock had chosen was tucked away in a quiet corner of London, intimate and timeless, just the way he preferred. It was perfect—no grand spectacle, just close friends and family, gathered together for this long-awaited moment.

As she stepped into the chapel on John’s arm, she noticed the familiar faces seated in the pews. Her parents were seated near the front, her mother dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief while her father sat with a proud smile. Her sister sat beside them, beaming, with her grandmother, frail but glowing with happiness, gently patting her granddaughter’s hand.

Enola sat just behind them, her sharp, curious gaze locked on Sherlock with a knowing smirk. Beside her, Mycroft adjusted his pocket watch, his stoic demeanor betraying nothing, though his eyes flicked to her with a rare glint of approval. Even Irene Adler, ever the enigma, sat elegantly toward the back, her presence more a nod to Sherlock’s past than any overt support, though she offered a subtle nod as their eyes met.

But none of them compared to the sight of Sherlock waiting for her at the altar.

He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, standing tall with his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes immediately locking onto hers as soon as she entered the room. His usual detached demeanor was gone, replaced by a quiet intensity that made her heart race.

As John led her down the aisle, she felt the distance between her and Sherlock shrink, not just physically, but emotionally. The years they had spent apart, the unspoken words, the feelings long buried—all of it seemed to dissolve in the space between them.

When she finally reached him, Sherlock extended his hand, his grip warm and steady. For a moment, they stood there, eyes locked, the world around them fading into the background.

“You look beautiful,” Sherlock said softly, his voice rougher than usual, as if he had to force the words past his own nerves. “You clean up pretty well yourself,” she teased back, her voice shaky with emotion.

The officiant cleared his throat, beginning the ceremony, but neither she nor Sherlock seemed to hear much of it. Her gaze stayed locked on his, and for the first time in years, Sherlock’s guarded expression softened. The mask he so often wore in public had fallen away, leaving behind the man she had known as a boy—her Sherlock, the one who had always been there for her, even when she didn’t realize it.

“You may now exchange vows,” the officiant said, his voice cutting through the haze of emotions.

The soft light of the afternoon bathed the small chapel, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. She stood before Sherlock, her heart racing, her hands clasped in his. The world around them seemed to fade as they focused solely on each other, the gravity of the moment heavy in the air.

When the officiant turned to Sherlock for his vows, there was a brief pause. Everyone knew Sherlock Holmes as a man of intellect, logic, and few words. But here, in this moment, he was different—vulnerable, open in a way that only those closest to him had ever seen. And for her, he would make an exception.

Sherlock took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering as he held her hands gently in his. For a second, he hesitated, searching for the right words. Then, in a voice soft yet steady, he began.

“From the moment we met as children, you’ve always seen me for who I am—no illusions, no façades. You never tried to change me, though, heaven knows, I probably could have used some change,” he said with a small, self-deprecating smile. The crowd chuckled softly, but his focus remained solely on her. “You challenged me in ways no one else ever has, or ever could. You were the only one who truly understood me, even when I didn’t understand myself. And when you left for boarding school… I told myself it didn’t matter. That I didn’t care. But it did matter. It mattered more than I could ever admit, even to myself.”

Sherlock paused, his eyes softening, emotion flickering in their depths. “I spent years pretending that what we had was in the past, something forgotten. But no matter how many mysteries I solved, no matter how many cases I took on, there was always something missing. You.” His voice wavered slightly, and he cleared his throat, regaining his composure.

“You were always there, in the back of my mind. And now, standing here with you, I realize that you’ve been the most important mystery of my life—one I don’t ever want to solve, because being with you is the answer.”

Her breath hitched, her heart swelling at his words. Sherlock took another breath, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’m not perfect. Far from it. I’ll frustrate you, and I’ll be distant at times, and I might lose myself in my work, but I promise you this: I will never stop trying to be better for you. I will stand by your side, not as the detective or the man of logic, but as someone who loves you—deeply, and without question. You are my equal, my partner, and my heart. And I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that you were never a second thought.”

For a moment, the chapel was silent. Sherlock’s vows, though longer than anyone would have expected, were filled with an honesty that cut through the quiet.

She swallowed hard, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. It was her turn, but it took her a moment to compose herself, her heart so full she could barely speak. When she finally did, her voice was soft. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts, and when she spoke, her voice was steady but full of emotion, her eyes never leaving Sherlock’s.

“Sherlock, from the moment we met as children, I knew you were different. You were always the smartest person in the room, but what mattered most to me wasn’t your mind—it was your heart, even if you never let anyone see it. You’ve always been more than the man of logic and reason people think you are. You’ve been my friend, my confidant, and the person I’ve trusted more than anyone else in this world.”

She paused, her hands tightening around his. “When I left for boarding school, I thought I was leaving behind that part of my life, but not a day went by when I didn’t think of you. I told myself that it was just nostalgia, that maybe I was imagining the connection we had. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t just in my head. I missed you—not just the boy I grew up with, but the man I knew you were becoming.”

Her voice softened, and a tear escaped down her cheek, though her smile never wavered. “Sherlock, you once told me that sentiment was a chemical defect found in the losing side. But standing here now, I can tell you that sentiment is not a defect. It’s what has kept us tied together, no matter how far apart we were. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, even when I was too afraid to admit it. I love your mind, your brilliance, and your stubbornness, but most of all, I love the man you are when no one else is looking.”

She took a moment, her voice becoming more firm as she continued. “I don’t need grand gestures or flowery words. What I need is you. I need your partnership, your trust, your companionship, and your heart. And I promise that I will give you mine, without reservation. I will stand by you, even when you push me away, because I know that what we have is real, and it’s worth fighting for.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “I will love you, not because of who you are to the world, but because of who you are to me. I’ll be your equal, your partner, and your home. No matter what challenges we face, no matter what mysteries we solve together, I will always come back to you. Because you, Sherlock Holmes, are the one constant I’ve had in my life. And I promise to love you for the rest of mine.”

The room was silent, the air thick with emotion. For a moment, it felt as though the world had stopped, as if nothing existed outside the space between them. Sherlock’s eyes softened in a way they rarely did, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The officiant, slightly overwhelmed by the weight of their words, cleared his throat and continued with the ceremony, though it felt like a formality at this point. When the words finally came—“You may kiss the bride”—Sherlock didn’t hesitate.

He pulled her gently into his arms, his hands cradling her face as he pressed his lips to hers. It wasn’t rushed or fleeting; it was a kiss filled with the years of longing, the unspoken words, and the deep love they had both carried in their hearts for so long. Her hands found his shoulders, holding him close, and the world around them seemed to disappear.

When they finally pulled apart, the room erupted into soft applause. Her family smiled through tears, and John looked at Sherlock with a mixture of pride and amusement. Mycroft gave a small nod of approval, while Enola, though trying to remain composed, couldn’t hide the smirk on her face. Even Irene Adler, watching from the back, offered a quiet, knowing smile.

As they turned to face the small crowd, Sherlock’s hand found hers, squeezing gently. They walked down the aisle together, side by side, hand in hand, ready to face whatever came next. For the first time in both of their lives, they weren’t just solving a mystery—they were building a life, together.

And as they stepped out into the world as husband and wife, Sherlock leaned in, his voice a quiet murmur only she could hear. “Mrs. Holmes,” he whispered, a rare warmth in his tone, “this is the one mystery I’m happy will never be solved.” She smiled, her heart full, and whispered back, “Neither will I, Mr. Holmes. Neither will I.”

[snake-bite-piercing]

Yandere cafe 2

I'll link part 1 here

It had been a week after visiting the cafe across the street. You were contemplating going there again. The sweets they had weren't bad and you didn't really get to see everything they had to offer.

You went to the cafe again during your lunch break. This time it was more crowded than the last time you were here. You were seated at a small two person booth. This time you decided to just get a cup of coffee.

They handed you the same paper as last time. Your eyes scanned the paper again to refresh your memory. You decided to go for Alexander, he didn't seem so bad.

After finishing your coffee, you placed the paper under the cup with a tip and got up to leave. On your way out, you say your waiter pick up the paper and rush to the back.

The rest of the day was busy for you. Many worried people came in with sick animals or animals needing cleaning. You had to stay an extra few minutes to finish up the last fur baby that needed treatment. You didn't mind though you loved your job.

When you did finish you were the last person left so it was your job to close up. You checked if all the lights were off, no ACS were on, and you locked all the windows. As you were locking the door you turned around and bumped into someone.

You looked up, and your eyes locked with a tall man with a nervous expression. He has a solid build and beautiful dark brown hair.

"Sorry, we just closed the shop but will open tomorrow at 8." You said to him as you put your keys away. You felt his gaze on you and didn't know what to do. "I'm Alexander from the cafe across the street. You picked me, right?" he said, sounding unsure.

You were shocked that he was standing there in front of you. You thought you would have had to wait a while before meeting him. "Oh, sorry I didn't think we would meet this fast. I thought there would be a line of people before we ever met." you blurted out.

"Actually, there is but we get to pick who we prefer to go out with. Most people aren't kind to the waiters. But you were." You blushed a bit at what he said. "So, you picked me?" you asked him, "Yes!" he answered quickly, "I mean yeah."

"I brought you these." You looked at the small bouquet of flowers he was holding. You hadn't noticed them until now. You grabbed them and quickly said "Thank you... Should I give you my number so we can stay in contact?" He nodded his head and you guys exchanged numbers.

When you got home you had a conversation with him via messages. You both decided to go to an amusement park during the weekend.

It was already Sunday, and you were getting ready to go out. When you made it to the amusement park, you saw Alexnder standing near a ticket booth. He had already gotten you guys more than enough tickets.

You guys started at the bumper cars, then worked your way to the roller coaster. He went on most of them though. The date was going well, and you were generally having fun. He asked you a bit about your work. He seemed to actually care about what you had to say.

As your date was coming to an end you guys passed by a pull up challenge bar. Alexander quickly rushed over to it. The rules were simple hang on for two minutes to win a prize.

"Which prize do you want?" he asked looking over all the big stuffed animals. "Why are you so sure you'll win?" the man who set the game up asked. As Alexander rolled up his sleeves he said, "This will be a piece of cake."

Even though it was only for two minutes the timer went down slowly. Alexander was able to stay on for the first minute. Then the bar started shaking. You could tell he was having a bit of a hard time holding on. But Alexander was still able to hold on for the whole two minutes.

Just to show off he did a pull up. "So, you decided which one you wanted?" he said proudly. You laughed a bit at how cocky he was being and went to grab the big bear stuffed animal. Alexander held it for you. "Can I drive you home?" he asked pointing towards his card.

You agreed and watched him put your prize in the back seat. You didn't live far from the amusement park, so it wasn't a long drive. When parked his car in front of your house, you didn't remember telling him where you lived. Maybe you did but you forgot about it, so you let it go.

"Thanks for driving me home Alexander," you said. "It's really no problem, but you can call me Alex."

He carried the stuffed animal to your door, and you quickly brought it inside. You heard him blurt out "I had fun today." You smiled at him and said, "Yeah me too, maybe next time we can get dinner." His eye lit up and he had a big smile on his face.

"Next time? So does that mean you want to go out again?" You giggled then gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Good night, Alex," you said and went inside.

[superhaught]

Incurable Cravings (Chapter Four)

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: none really, just angsty

Word Count: 2200, Part 4/?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Continuation of Incurable Cravings series!

Little author's note: I made a small edit to Chapter 2 to fix a plot hole that I created for myself. Regina and Leighton have been living in separate homes for five years as opposed to the original ten.

Regina and reader begin to navigate their first day at school in light of their newfound relationship. Reader learns more about the history between Janis, Regina and Leighton.

Regina’s family was complex. 

You knew that Ms. George used to be married to Regina’s father. Together, they had twin daughters, Regina and Leighton. You were all around 13 years old when they divorced. The resulting custody arrangement was unusual. Ms. George kept Regina and the house, while Leighton went with their dad and moved to the east coast. You vaguely knew that the father, Henry, got remarried to his college sweetheart, who had an older son from her previous marriage. Ms. George kept her maiden name and changed Regina’s last name to match, and has since also remarried and had Regina’s half-sister, Kylie. Regina’s stepdad, from what you knew, was a high-ranking military official. He didn’t see combat, but he was almost never home. All of them seemed to prefer it that way. 

Regina and her stepdad famously did not get along well, so his frequent absence was appreciated by her. And Ms. George enjoyed being able to maintain her independence. She often referred to herself as a single mom, even though she, objectively, was married.

You hadn’t seen Leighton since she moved away, and based on what Regina had said, she had rarely seen her twin either. You were positive that the distance must be hard on them both. Regina and Leighton had always been each other's' best friend when you were younger. They were practically joined at the hip. You remember that when Leighton moved away, Regina didn’t come to school for almost two weeks and she wouldn’t see anyone.

The divorce, and your small friend group falling apart, all happened within the span of a year. And now, as Regina slept peacefully in your arms, you wondered just how much pain she had been carrying.

It broke your heart. 

In spite of your racing thoughts, you eventually gave in to sleep yourself and were able to get a few hours shuteye before Regina’s alarm was going off and waking you for school. Regina groaned and snoozed the alarm once before turning over and curling up against your chest.

You giggled at how cute she was being and took to kissing her head and playing with her hair for those ten extra minutes. You felt her press a few soft kisses onto your neck and then the alarm went off again.

You reached over her and turned the alarm off and then rubbed your palm over her upper arm. 

The blonde smiled and whispered, “good morning…”

“Good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling this morning?”

Regina yawned and stretched her arms out a little before responding, “better than I’ve felt in a while.”

“Good.”

She met your eyes, “am I remembering last night correctly?”

“What do you remember?”

She hesitated for a moment, examining your expression, maybe considering dropping it, “I remember you saying that you love me…”

You nodded your head, “I did, Gina,” you tucked some hair behind her ear, “I said ‘I love you.’”

She nodded back and bit down on her bottom lip. You could see the anxiety mounting in her through her tensing muscles and rapid eye movements.

“I…” she began.

“Shhh…” you leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss. 

She melted at the contact and let her hand travel over your shoulder and up the back of your neck to hold you close. Regina held you in that kiss for a long while and then just silently nodded again as she pulled away.

“Thank you…” she whispered. 

And thus, only a fraction of your conversation actually  took place out loud. You never really imagined having a bond like that with someone, not after the years you had lost of growing with Regina and Janis as your closest friends. But right here, in this moment, Regina knew without a shadow of a doubt that you had meant what you said. And you knew that she felt the same way about you in return. 

You both took a minute more to play with each other’s fingers as you held hands in the bed. 

The blonde kissed your hand and whispered, “I wish we had time to enjoy more of each other instead of going to school…” 

“I do too, trust me.” 

“I just want this gorgeous body of yours all to myself, all the time…” 

You smirked, “you are such a temptress… but don’t worry, Gina. I’m all yours.” You kissed her cheek and then her lips again, obliging her when she grazed your lip with her tongue to deepen the kiss. You shared a few more kisses like this before Regina finally forced herself to sit up. 

She looked sore and stiff in her movements. You reached out to gently touch her back after she sat up and you asked, “do you want help getting up?” 

“No, no… I’ll be okay. Thank you baby.” 

You got ready for the day together. Regina happily let you borrow some of her clothes that she reserved for wearing only around the house. No one would likely be able to tell that they were hers, not that it mattered to you. 

Ms. George had fixed you both a quick breakfast and offered you free reign of the pantry to make yourself a lunch. 

Regina, with a little bit of encouragement from you, managed to eat a cup of yogurt with granola. 

“I’m gonna go start the car, you coming?” Regina asked you when she finished eating. 

“Yeah, go ahead, I’ll be right out.” 

Regina nodded and left through the front door of her house. You heard the engine of her Jeep start and you turned to Ms. George, who was scrolling Facebook on her phone while eating her own bowl of yogurt. 

“Ms. George?” 

She looked up at you, “what’s up, sugar?” 

“Do you have Leighton’s phone number?” 

Regina held your hand the whole car ride to school and walked inside with you, only dropping your hand once you were in the presence of others. 

Regina saw Gretchen and Karen waiting for her at her locker so she turned to you and gave you a sweet goodbye with a quick, stolen kiss to your cheek before she split off from you and resumed her normal. 

You realized that the two of you hadn’t discussed this part. You didn’t know how long it would be this secret between the two of you, but you hoped not long. 

But you were greeted with your own smack in the face from reality when you walked up to your locker. Janis stood there, waiting for you. 

You took a deep breath, “hey.” 

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, “hey. I want to try this again.” 

She stepped out of your way as you opened up your locker and she continued when you didn’t really say anything in response, “yesterday, I know I approached you about Regina in the wrong way, and I’m sorry.” 

You grabbed one of your textbooks, “thank you. I forgive you.” 

“But… I’d really like to talk to you about this. I saw you leave that storage closet with her. And I saw you go home with her after school yesterday. And, oh my god, you’re wearing her sweatshirt.” 

Shit. Of course Janis would recognize it.

“And? What exactly do you want to know?” 

“I… well, like what are you guys doing together? Are you hanging out again?” 

“I guess we are… yeah. We’re hanging out.” 

“Why?! Why would you do that?” 

“Janis…” your voice betrayed your sadness and frustration. 

“No seriously, come on! You’re one of the only people who knows the truth about what Regina has put me through! I thought you would be on my side!” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose and inhaled, “Janis, it’s more complicated than sides… and, and I don’t know that I do know the truth!” 

“What do you mean? You were at that party! You were there!” 

“I mean, why does Regina think that something happened between you and Leighton?” 

Janis’ jaw dropped, “what?” 

“What happened between you and Leighton?” 

“What did Regina say?” 

“She didn’t say anything specific, only that you hurt Leighton somehow.” 

“I…” Janis clenched her hands into fists, “that has nothing to do with me and Regina! I don’t even… you knew how I felt about Regina… you don’t really think I deserved what she did, do you?” 

“Janis, no. I don’t think you deserved it. I don’t think any of us deserved anything that happened, Regina included. I think we were kids with a lot of complicated feelings.”

Janis stared at you incredulously. 

“Didn’t you guys make up at the dance last year?” 

“No. We didn’t. She was high on pain medication. She didn’t forgive me and I didn’t forgive her.” 

You sighed, “Look, right now, I know that Regina wants me around and I’m okay with putting things behind me so that I can be there for her. But you don’t have to do that. Just don’t get mad at me for trying.”

She stared at you again. 

You closed your locker door, “you weren’t the only one of us who was in love with her, Janis. You weren’t the only one who lost her, okay?” 

You walked away from Janis for the second time, once again, unsure whether you were making the right choices in navigating this whole thing. You couldn’t exactly tell Janis the whole truth about your relationship, not without consulting Regina about it first. But you knew it wasn’t fair to leave Janis completely in the dark either. 

You sat through your math class unable to pay attention to a single word out of Mrs. Norbury’s mouth because you were so caught up in how complicated this all was. 

On your way out, Mrs. Norbury called you up to her desk and you obliged. 

“Hey, you doing okay?” 

You nodded, “yeah, I’m just having a weird week. I’m sorry for spacing out.” 

She gave you a half smile, “look, I know your grades are going to be fine, that’s not what I’m worried about. I just want to make sure you’re alright.” 

“It’s just friend stuff.” 

“Alright, well, just remember that graduation is right around the corner. You need to make sure that you’re thinking about what you want.” She smiled at you as if what she said wasn’t annoyingly vague. 

“Have you told anyone else about your acceptance letter yet?” She continued. 

“No… still only you and my parents know. I’m not ready to tell anyone else yet.” 

“It’s been a few months now, you’ll have to start telling people eventually.” 

“I know… I just…” 

Mrs. Norbury waited patiently for you to finish. 

“It hasn’t really sunk in for me yet.” 

She raised an eyebrow. You knew she was suspicious of your answer but she let it go, “okay. Well, if you need anything, just let me know.” 

You nodded and left her classroom. Your heart was pounding. 

Until yesterday, there was no one that you were overly concerned to talk to about your college acceptance. But now… you’d have to find a way to tell Regina that in just a few short months, you’d be moving to Boston for college. 

You hustled to your next class and pulled your phone out as you sat down in your seat. You quickly started a new message to the number that Ms. George gave you. 

When you left that class, you checked your phone first thing and you had a text back. 

“Is Regina okay?”

You typed your response as you walked, “Regina is okay, but there’s a lot going on right now and I could use your help. I’m sorry to text you out of the blue like this. Your mom gave me your number.”

“So, you and Regina are friends again?”

“Yes.”

“Janis, too?”

“That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about… what happened? If you don't mind me asking…”

It took a minute for Leighton to respond. You watched the little bubble that indicated she was typing until her message back finally came through. 

Leighton wrote, “honestly? Looking back, it’s stupid and I’m p sure Regina overreacted.”

Leighton tells you that when you were all kids, Janis confided in her that she had a crush on Regina. Janis begged Leighton not to tell Regina, and Leighton agreed, not seeing any reason to hurt Janis and ruin the friendship between the girls. But sometime later, Regina came to know the truth and talked to Janis and turned her down kindly. Janis was still mortified, but beyond that, she was pissed. Janis assumed that Leighton told Regina and wanted to get back at her for it. Janis knew that Leighton had a big class presentation coming up and she came to school wearing a beautifully pressed, matching white suit jacket and skirt. Janis loaded up her lunch tray with everything that the cafeteria had to offer that would stain and then “bumped” right into Leighton, dumping her entire tray onto Leighton. 

It was petty. It was stupid. It was misinformed. But it made Leighton cry in the bathroom, and that was something Regina couldn’t abide. Regina planned her revenge, and that’s how the spin-the-bottle party happened. Janis embarrassed Leighton, so Regina embarrassed Janis with the best ammo she had in her arsenal.

Next Chapter

[robin-evry]

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐔!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ❄️🗡️

Former Sword Champion of the Luofu, and the creator of the Cloud Knights' legends of undefeated might. Now, her name has been wiped from the records, and she is a traitor of the Xianzhou walking on the fine line between sanity and mara-struck.

(English is not my first language)

The former swordmaster of the xianzhou luofu suddenly finds themselves somewhere in the fields of liyue. Confused by this weird phenomenon they started to walk absorbing liyue beauty and having their guard up.

After a few minutes of walking a group of treasure hoarders surrounded them.

Treasure hoarder 1 : look boys, fresh meat. Look like an easy one they're blind

Jing Liu!reader : ...

Treasure hoarder 2 : Hey, you hand us all of your mora or else will make you.

Jing Liu!reader : ...

Treasure hoarder 1 : HEY ARE YOU DEAF!!!

With a single slash of a sword, the treasure hoarders bodies are frozen in a flash. The swordmaster continued their journey without looking back.

They soon reach liyue harbor without notifying the conqueror demons of their presence. The swordmaster was enjoying the scenery that Liyue Harbor was offering, not knowing a certain qilin adeptus was following them, as well a person adorning a mask of a fool.

A certain long haired gentleman with amber eyes was following their footsteps, when the swordmaster took a seat at one of the vacant tables to listen to one of iron tongue famous tales about the archon of this land. The long haired gentleman decided to start a conversation.

Zhongli : you look new, are you perhaps a traveler

Jing Liu!reader : you could say that

Zhongli : well how are you faring in liyue harbor

Jing Liu!reader : it's very... Lively many people are walking around. It's similar to my home

Zhongli : I see, so you're not into large crowds of people

Jing Liu!reader : you are correct...

Both of them started to traverse in a friendly talk, after a few minutes past a ginger diplomat joined the table and stared at them with familiarity.

Jing Liu!reader : is there something on my face that is distracting you

Childe : nothing... It's just... Your face looks similar to my master minus, the blindfold. I'm childe by the way but people also call me tartaglia. I'm one of the eleven fatui Harbingers

Jing Liu!reader : ( your name ) nice to meet you.

Childe : unfortunately I gotta go now. I have some unfinished business I gotta attend to. The tabs on me do.

Later in the day, osial bursts open from the sea and are threatening to destroy liyue. During the final battle someone was standing on the peak of the mountain in liyue harbor and released a large slash of ice that level the entire monster.

Soon this slash managed to be able weakens osial to the point it can be finished by throwing the jade chamber upon the sea monster.

But the aftermath of the slash was powerful, it left a half of the sea near liyue frozen for weeks, and it even managed to crack the earth meaning the person who unleashed the slash is a walking danger upon the Adepti and Qixing they concluded. If they adf more power upon the slash it'll be able to be taken down on osial. This person was certainly holding back their strength

Before continuing on their journey to the next nation, the sword master took a look at the glaze lilies and the silk flower that are together, it reminds them of a certain person that they lost during their journey.

< rewritten version 🌙❄️ >