#but you have cool eyes so ir makes up for it!

[itsmuffiiee]

*knock knock knock* Trick-or-treat! *holds out treat bucket*

Loaf!! Ty for visiting my void have a treat! Here are two trickster lollipops for you! I also really like your bucket so have some extra candy!! ‹𝟹

[opikiquu]

im going to be so annoying all week

[kurooh]

Heyy I love your works!! Can I get some praise kink works with husband! Kuroo, atsumu and ushijima ?? 🥹🥹

TO BE LOVED IS TO BE.. PRAISED ! — HAIKYUU

⊹₊˚. featuring miya atsumu, kuroo tetsurou, & ushijima wakatoshi lovin’ on and praising their beautiful wife in bed.

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, breeding, one squirt, intimacy, praise, mirror sex, creampies, pet names, fluff, lingerie.

xoxo, juno: HI i hope u see this it’s been a few months 🥲 i loved writing atsumu’s he’s so cute

MIYA ATSUMU.

“haah, i fuckin’ love it when ya get dressed up like this, baby. ya always take such good care of me.” atsumu’s fingers smooth over the thin material of your lace thigh highs, his most favorite kind of lingerie to see you in. your soft legs are splayed out on either side of him as you bounce on his cock, squirming whenever his tip kisses your cervix.

he’s huge, easily stretching you out and filling you up just right. atsumu’s never been afraid to be vocal with you, but tonight he seems to be much louder than usual . .

a stream of curses falls from his lips like it’s nothing, and his nails dig into the skin of your hips, leaving indents shaped like crescent moons. “ngh, don’t—please don’t stop.”

“sensitive much?” you giggle, feeling a lot less tired now that he’s used your favorite word. in a heartbeat, you’re moving more deliberately, rolling your hips forward and nosing at the tender skin of his neck. with a moan, atsumu pulls you close and lolls his head over your shoulder, giving you any and all access. 

“jus’ a long day, angel,” he breathes out, clawing at your skin when you press open mouthed kisses to the column of his neck, occasionally nipping at the damp spots. “did ya know ya always make ‘em better?”

“mmm, you said the same thing about your salt baths,” you tease, lightly tracing the curve of his jaw with your tongue, pulling a groan of both pleasure and ire from the depths of his chest. 

“ugh, y’know what i mean,” he rolls his eyes even though you can’t see him, “i don’t look forward ta them like i do ta seein’ ya.”

“tsumu,” you say, borderline moan, and a shiver ripples through his body and makes his balls clench. “i was about to say the same thing, you keep reading my mind.”

you’re both on the same wavelength — which is why your pace quickens, much like his heart, without him having to say anything to you. gingerly, your fingers slip into the gold tufts of his hair and your nails lightly rake across his scalp. it’s when you pull hard that he lets out something between a whimper and a whine, teeth scraping over your shoulder as he searches for something to bite down on.

atsumu’s neck absorbs your own sounds of lewd delight as you ride him into oblivion, trying your hardest not to stop despite the burn in your thighs or the racing of your heart. you gasp sharply when his cock twitches deep inside your cunt and he grips your hips hard, holding you in place as he moans incoherently into your shoulder.

you pull him back by his hair and then into a kiss, your lips muffling his frantic gasps. whatever he said or tried to say is unimportant, because he ends up cumming abruptly, spilling white against your cervix. atsumu’s muscular back heaves as he struggles for breath, the entirety of his body covered in a glistening sheen of sweat that you can’t help but think about licking off.

“tsumu?” you ask gently, fingers lightly scrabbling at the nape of his neck, “you okay?”

he weakly hugs you closer, breathing heavily as he comes down from his high. “god, ‘m definitely gonna be dreamin’ about that,” for a moment, he pauses to kiss away the cooling spit on the slope of your shoulder and lets out a sigh. “jus’ wanna stay like this for a minute, angel. missed ya a lot today.”

KUROO TETSUROU.

“that’s my girl,” tetsurou coos, voice low and lustful, “swear you were made to take my cock just like this, sweetheart.”

clap, clap, clap. the crude smack of skin against skin grows louder, filling the room and inevitably pissing off the neighbors—tetsurou’s always loved to show off, and his most favorite ways to do so are by taking you to office gatherings or like this . . your wrists are bound together by his favorite silk tie for work and you’re sobbing out his name so loudly you’re drowning out the sounds of the bed.

you’re too cock drunk to even think about what flies past your lips. “o-of course i was, tetsu, ‘m all fuckin’ yours.”

he chuckles, bringing a hand down hard against your asscheek. your babbling is cute, but you’re burying yourself in the mussed sheets and making it difficult for him to hear you the way he expects to. that slap stings, and heat licks at the spot where his wedding band came down against your skin, but you don’t do anything other than arch your back and moan.

lithely, tetsurou leans forward over you and slips his hand beneath your chin, cupping your jaw as he lifts your head up and makes you look at the full length mirror that’s set in front of the bed. a dazed glance shows you the fucked out expression on your face and the makeup that’s smudged every which way.

“just look at you,” he chokes out, squeezing your hips as his dark eyes rake over you like he can’t get enough, “i love it—i fuckin’ love it when you’re archin’ like that, so damn pretty.”

tetsurou’s compliments are saccharine and raw whenever he’s inside you, full of filthy appreciativeness as your needy cunt sucks him deeper. he’s practically in your stomach now, taking the saying of ‘rearranging your guts’ almost too literally—it’s impossible to complain, especially when you’re too busy drooling while your eyes roll back in bliss.

“oh, fuck—t-tetsu, ‘m close,” the wet squelches of your pussy grow louder as he jackhammers his cock right into the soft, spongy spot inside of you that always reduces you to a mess without fail. his eyes lock onto you in the mirror as tremors roll through your body like surface waves, your face crumpling at the ecstasy licking at each and every one of your limbs. “ah, right there—oh, oh my goddd, ‘m gonna cum!”

in an instant, tetsurou snakes his hand over your shoulder and wraps his fingers around your neck, firmly pulling your body back against him. breathlessly, he groans into your ear and the sound only makes your heart pound harder, “wifey’s gonna cum all over me, huh?”

you nod frantically, arching against him as your short breaths shift into pitched gasps.

“let me feel you, honey,” warmth ghosts over the shell of your ear as his grip tightens just a fraction, “but i want those pretty eyes to stay open, ‘kay? watch yourself in the mirror like a good girl.”

so you do, even though your eyelids flutter a few times and an influx of tears blurs your vision. like a vice, your walls squeeze down on his cock as if they’re trying to milk him for everything he’s got—it almost works, but he drags in a harsh breath and barely holds it together. he’s got no other choice but to bite down hard on his lip when he feels you gushing waterfalls, soaking his skin with your delicious slick. but, tetsurou isn’t ready to give this up yet, not when he’s having this much fun watching the best porno that’s ever blessed his eyes.

you’re out of breath and entirely limp, voice cracking when you try to say his name. “hold—hold on, i need to sit down.”

an infuriating pout plays on his lips when you look into the mirror, and he takes the opportunity to diligently switch into an easier position where you’re sitting on top of his cock, thighs on either side of his hips. “better, baby?”

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI.

“you didn’t have to, ah, do all that,” you gasp, voice breaking and eyes fluttering shut as the languid thrusts of his cock seem to reach your lungs, “‘toshi, how long were you planning everything?”

wakatoshi chuckles breathlessly, pressing his sweaty forehead to yours. soft, small bits of baby hair stick to his skin, but he’s too focused on you to pay it any mind. “sweetheart, that doesn’t matter. it’s our second anniversary, of course i’d go all out.”

your back arches off the bed, and your hardened nipples press into his own. he’s never been so fulfilled by anyone before—not by friends, or family. not like this. you’re his everything, his favorite part of the day and the person he’d choose over everyone else. in the background, the bed creaks faintly, barely audible over the smooth music that pours into the room from a small speaker. 

it looks like the most romantic scene in a movie, of course it does—wakatoshi’s still as in love with you as he was the first time you went out on a date together, all those years ago.

“i wish you could see how beautiful you look right now,” a warm whisper ghosts against your lips before he gives you a kiss, swallowing your answer and the soft moans that follow it. “mmm, my lovely wife. i’ve been waiting all day to touch you, darling.”

even this far into your relationship with him, your cheeks still get hot when those endearing petnames roll off his tongue—it’s intimate, a gesture that leaves no question about the fact that his heart is entirely yours. 

“toshi,” you whine, nails digging into his muscular shoulders, “y-you’re gonna make me cum again, it’s—”

“i was about to say the same, honey,” he groans, tucking his face into your neck and inhaling your scent, “we’re not done, this time i want to—ngh, i want to put a baby in you.”

something delightful flashes behind olive green eyes, and he thinks of you, swollen all from carrying his child. he can’t help but picture walking around with you and everyone knowing that you’re his just from one glance. maybe it’s the baby fever talking or his well-known possessive streak, but wakatoshi’s lost in the fantasy of it all, abs clenching and hips faltering against your own as inescapable ecstasy licks at his limbs.

a sob of his name bursts out of you as you abruptly cum all over his cock, cunt sucking him deeper and gripping him like a vice. he grips your hips to keep you close, and you’re already on it, reading his mind with ease: your legs lock around his waist and draw him in, your own way of telling him you want the same thing he does.

wakatoshi spills inside you while you’re shaking, hot ribbons of cum gushing against your awaiting cervix. even as you thrash beneath him, he firmly holds you in place with his own weight and rocks his hips into you to push his load impossibly deeper. he murmurs sweet, sexy nothings into your ear and feels his eyes roll back when you thread your fingers through his hair. “sweetheart, you’re jus’ so damn perfect,” wakatoshi’s heart pounds even harder in his ears, “i need to—fuck, i have to fill you up again and again . . ”

[deadsetobsessions]

Fae adjacent! Danny, pt. 3

Jason returns to consciousness with a scream trapped before it could come to life. He twisted his neck back and forth and back and forth.

It was the last thing he did before he died. When the Joker left and told him to say hello to the big guy, Jason could not muster up the energy to make a single sound.

But Bruce… Bruce was here this time, heavy head making the mattress by his leg dip.

The scars that ran over his face stretched as he blinked.

“…B?”

Bruce’s head shot up, eyes bloodshot and bags heavier than a Gotham socialite’s solid gold Dior purse.

“Jaylad.”

Jason- Jason was alive now. Bruce’s hug felt warm, the tear spot on his shoulder was damp as his dad cried while hugging him.

And Jason should be happy. He’s alive again. His dad loved him.

But all he could think about was the cold of the coffin, the squelch of mud and dirt, and the unerringly wrong feeling of knowing he came back but he came back wrong.

——

Tim had wandered Gotham in the weeks following Jason’s reawakening. He wasn’t avoiding Bruce Wayne. He wasn’t. But Tim knows he’ll have to answer questions soon. He just wasn’t ready.

Tim looked up at the den of pixies- pixies were real!- and squared his shoulders. He did his research. Tim Drake walks into the den with nothing but foolish hope and Gotham-brand audacity. He’ll get answers about Danny today. He will.

——

Soul-Plucker, they called him. Danny Fenton, the proprietor of Fenton Artifacts. The High King.

“I thought King Oberon was the High King?”

The pixies chittered at the little human that could have been kin. Their wings fluttered at their backs, muffled by cloth. It’s not often they find kindred. It really is too bad that Fenton had his mark on the child. How they would have loved to whisk him away. He would have made entertainment that would last a millennia! Or until the court decided to cut of his tongue, at least. How well he had tricked them!

“Of course! Of course! King Oberon is our king, see?” A younger pixie swirled her drink, a shining red and blue thing. “But he’s the High King of another court!”

“The High King of the Infinite Realms, encompassing far more than King Oberon and Queen Tatianna could ever reach.”

Another pixie chimed in, on their fourth glass of amber colored nectar. “The Soul-Plucker!”

“The Beginning of the End.”

“Afterlife IRS department!”

“He who wanders.”

“Death-Caller.” Another one said, grave and serious.

“The Arbiter.”

“So, he’s like, the boss of bosses?” Tim asked. What kind of entity did he make a deal with? Why was he kind to Tim? What motives did Danny have?

“Uh huh!”

“Then what’s he’s doing here?”

“Who knows? The whims of the most powerful are unknown to us.” The pixies clustered around Tim. “Won’t you play another game with us, Alvin? You’re so good at it! Oh, how about a drink?”

“Can’t. I gotta get home. Also, I’m a minor.” Tim slipped passed their fluttering wings and manic smiles. They move to let him past, waving drinks at him in a tantalizing manner.

“And where is that, sweet one?”

“Somewhere, Liltri. Somewhere.”

Tim Drake was a child of pure will, pure hard headed foolishness, a mind sharper than any blade, and luck more terrifying than the creatures he now dealt with. And so, he stepped out of the Pixie Bar with more questions than answers but he stepped out unharmed.

——

“Who are you?” The shadows shift as Lady Gotham unveiled her knight.

Danny felt his eyes cool, glinting green and blue. Lady Gotham forgets who her liege is.

“Haven’t you done your research? You who walks along the edge of shadows, my shop is not a place to dismiss decorum.”

“You brought… you brought him back. How. Why?”

“You want answers? Then give me something in return.”

Danny gestured to the circle his clients have come to know as the deal-maker. Danny doesn’t ask for much in return. Just… something equal to the request.

“Ah,” Danny pointed up at the sign. “I am legally able to deny you my service, so don’t get any ideas.”

Batman was studied up on myths. But he was not a believer, and that both hindered and helped him. What was a god, in front of the faithless? What was the faithless in front of power?

The vigilante stepped into the circle, unable to see the subtle shimmering of magic but remained unbound by the virtue of his disbelief.

“What do you want for answers?”

“You do not often deal with the occult, do you?” Danny tapped the counter. Batman remained silent.

“I have a soft spot for vigilantes,” Danny continued. “And so I won’t ask for much. Just… your cape.”

“Not my hair? A body part?”

“If you were dealing with the fae, you’d probably would lose something of that value, yes.”

“You aren’t fae.”

Danny merely smiled. “Do we have a deal?”

“My cape in exchange for honest answers to my questions.”

Danny huffed, approval glinting in his eyes.

“Your cape for honest answers to three questions,” Danny pointed at the sign, still hanging above them. “Three questions or nothing.”

Batman grimaced. “Deal.”

“Ask your questions, protector.”

“Why did you bring Jason back to life?”

“I didn’t.” Danny grinned. The Bat should have stipulated that he must answer elaborately. He looked like he realized that. Oh well. His mistake. Well, not like there was actual magic binding Danny, so technically, Danny could lie off his ass.

“…Will Jason stay alive?” Danny had a heart and this man was a much better father than Jack ever was.

“Yes. Barring unnatural causes, his soul is firmly attached to his body and will not shuffle off the mortal coil without warning.”

The lines of Batman’s shoulders slumped. Relief. He paused.

“What are your intentions in this city?”

“To run my shop… and to enjoy retirement.”

Danny laughed at Batman’s stoic face. “Disappointed I am not up to nefarious deeds, little knight?”

“No.”

Danny tapped the table. “My payment?”

Batman shucked off his cape and handed it to Danny.

“Why my cape?”

Danny smiled a fanged little thing. “Because your costume looks stupid without it and I could use a laugh.”

Batman grumbled and turned to leave. Ha paused, eyes catching on the glint of camera lenses.

“How much for that?”

“For the little sparrow’s camera?” Danny sighed, eyes fixed on the form of a vigilante who was more kind than angry for once. “Two thousand dollars.”

“That’s a huge markup.”

“That’s how much it means to me, compared to the rest.” Danny slid beyond the counter, a ghostly air about him. He pinned his newly earned cape up. “My shop, my prices, little knight.”

Batman silently handed him two thousand dollars and left with the little sparrow’s camera.

[underscorezoo]

“Easy,” I murmur, “easy.” I show her what a deep breath looks like, trying to steady her growing panic. Her body shakes, her blue eyes wide, sweat glistens across her forehead. I rub my thumb against her knuckles, her hand gripping mine like life depends on it.

“It hurts,” she whimpers, eyes closing with a hard wince. My other hand closes around her jaw and I softly blow hair into her face to cool her down.

“I've got you, darling.”

She shakes her head in refusal, a cry bubbling up her throat, “oh. Oh.”

“Tension isn't helping our baby, please relax.” She gives me a look that makes me want to bury myself alive to recover from it. A hopeless scared gaze that makes me want to claw out my eyes on top of being five feet underground.

“Help me,” she whines, “get him out of me.”

I flash a look at the royal healers around me, their eyes mildly impatient. I give them a cold stern look that has them shifting into action to avoid my ire.

“I'm still convinced it's a little girl,” I smile, brushing her hair that's matted onto her forehead.

“There's nothing little about her then,” she groans and shifts away from me, her body locking up, “no, not again,” she cries and her fingernails dig into me. I have several of these wounds now but I can't even register it with the way I've been watching her so intently.

“Breathe,” I remind her quickly, “breath in and out. Relax your jaw.”

Her teeth are bared to the world, the entirety of her rigid, airless.

“Breathe,” I bark, my worry crawling up my mouth.

She does but the sound that leaves with it is enough to drive me over an edge. My hand leaves her face and falls onto the swell of her stomach, bare to the room, our child begging to escape it. A blanket covers her lower half and I'm tempted to tear it away to see if there is progress. A healer beats me to it, bending my wife’s knee up and opening her legs like a butterfly, blanket falling away.

“That's the sound we were waiting for, your majesty,” the midwife coos gently. “You’re ready to start pushing. It’ll all be over soon.”

Terror strikes me like a hard fist to the jaw and I sit there in stunned silence. My wife on the other hand starts a tantrum, limps a chaos as she tries to leave the bed. None of us expect this but with her so bloated, she barely makes it before I'm holding her still, pinning to the mattress. Her eyes are crazed and dazed with pain and anger.

“I am not pushing,” she hisses at me as if I was the one who suggested it.

“Are you saying that because you're afraid of the pain or because you don't think you can do it?” I challenge, raising an eyebrow. I dare to let my hand travel down between her legs, my fingers breaching the now expanded opening. I almost groan, “darling,” my head slumps towards her with near relief, “you are so close.” I feel the spot of thin hair, the curvature of a baby’s head. Our child.

“Get your fingers out of me,” she groans, whimpering.

“First I've heard that one,” I smirk. She flashes me a warning look that I eat up.

She again seems to be primed with a retort when both hands furiously find the bottom sheet. Giving my hand, wrist, and arm a break from her piercing touch. A terrified little yelp breaks from her mouth and one leg loses grip on the bedding and kicks out.

“Oh please,” she heartbreakingly pleads. So unlike my vicious wife. “Make it stop.”

I instinctively brush my knuckles to her cheek, my other hand resting low on her stomach. “You need to push, darling,” I press on her skin, “and hard. You're going to be just fine if you do that.”

She says something incoherent, a blubbering mess of raw emotion, exhaustion, and pain. Still she does what we all hoped, pushed. Her face tight with determination, chin to her chest, the sound of an animal in full heat coming out of her. She's never looked so beautiful.

“That's it,” I encourage softly and twist, getting a cold cloth for her forehead and neck. She relaxes instantly, tears streaming down her face.

“I can't do this,” she says, voice breaking.

“Of course you can,” I say softly.

She shakes her head in defiance of my words. Head tipping back against the pile of pillows behind her. My wife shrieks, her body shaking violently. “No, please, no,” she begs.

“It comes, your majesty, push,” the healer beckons.

My focus waivers between how vulnerable and how strong my wife is in this moment that I too am breathless for a spell before I am smiling, staring down at the peek of dark hair.

“I see her, darling, push oh please push.” Our ‘please’ is so contrasting that I laugh. She follows my suggestion and cries out again, this time her hand finding my forearm and holding tight. She looks at me, a face full of unabashed fear and loathing, “you did this to me.”

I still can't wipe the joy from my face so my, “I know,” comes out manic.

She whimpers, tears cascading down her face and mingling with sweat. She swears colorfully. That head of dark hair moves forward and now holds her folds open and taut. She's screaming loud enough to break the windows and I'm there, holding her head against mine, getting closer and closer. “Shh, it's almost over, you're doing so well.”

“Small pushes now, blow out, stretch wide,” the healer mimics the breathing she wants to achieve but my wife just lets out the most pathetic of whimpers.

“Hurts,” she mumbles.

“You're amazing. I'm so impressed,” my lips brush into her sweaty hair.

“Don't say that like you're surprised,” she huffs at me.

I chuckle, leaning back to take in her burning blue eyes. “I'm not surprised.”

“Just a few more pushes,” the healer coaxs.

I watch the head pop out with a bit of liquid and a shrill cry from my partner, who now pants wildly, eyes lidded with weariness. “Pull it out,” she demands, narrowing her gaze to menacing.

“You'll push in a minute here,” the healer amends for her.

“Just take it out,” she begs and then groans deeply, eyes closing quickly, “ohhh nooo” I watch in fascination as the baby starts to rotate slowly.

“Hold on, dearie,” the healer tugs the cord up and over our child’s head eliminating a threat against its life already. “Open these legs wider for me, there you go. Push, push, push.”

Thankfully my wife follows her orders. Her face bright red, and voice raising as more and more of the child emerges. Unceremoniously the screaming is replaced by the baby who now flails around in her mother's arms. Her. Our daughter. My wife and I lock eyes, her face split with adorable shock as if she hadn't just gone through all the work to make this happen. I slump towards them both, my adrenaline wearing off and I'm realizing my own hand has left crescent moons into my flesh from concern. I relax my body and take a deep breath.

“Thank gods,” I murmured to no one in particular. I look up timidly to my wife who wipes our baby with a towel and scrunches her entire chin towards her neck to get a better look at the purple screeching face. Our daughter finally has a lapse in annoyance and her eyes open, stormy gray eyes forming a perfect mirror to gaze into. My wife drops back, a lifeless laugh forcing out of her, “all that only for her to look like you.” She sounds both bitter and proud.

I grin, “she will no doubt be a stunner like me then.”

She huffs loudly but matches my smile, content with such a notion.

“The next one will look like you.”

Her jaw drops open. “The next one?!”

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington x F! reader, momentary mean! Steve, established relationship, lil bit of angst, PIV sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, hate sex turned make up sex WC:2.2K

A/N: Why not? Enjoy!

"So we're still fighting, huh?", Steve narrows his eyes at you from the kitchen entry way.

He's a picture of disarray — shirt misbuttoned, belt buckle in need of fastening, tie draped loosely over his shoulders and hair a wild, mussed up mess.

His unruly state came to be as a result of forgetting to set his alarm after your heated exchange last night, waking to find he was running late for work and you hadn't bothered to rouse him like you usually would have.

His sarcastic barb goes seemingly unheard though when you refuse to look up from the dishes you're scrubbing in the sink, back still turned to him even though the crumbs from your breakfast of blueberry jam on toast have long been washed clean from your plate.

It was a disagreement blown out of proportion that had caused the friction between you two. Steve had hoped sleeping it off would help to cool your tempers enough to reconcile in the morning but now that seems as likely as him making it to work on time.

Or was it?

He sighs, a clear note of irritation coming through because he should be digging through the laundry basket in search of his socks before he tries to shove his feet inside his shoes without them again in his rush, not rooted in place, eyes dark and stony but taking you in.

Of course you'd try to give him blue balls on top of it all too.

He grits his teeth as he stares at you in your too short satin robe, every inch of your legs and thighs on display as the hem hangs high, just a few inches below the swell of your ass. Practically dangling yourself in front of him.

He enters the kitchen then and though it feels risky approaching you the way that he does, he recognizes that the air's thick with a familiar kind of tension when he comes up behind you.

Quickly and none too gently, he rucks up your robe to confirm a suspicion he'd been harboring. He finds you're nude underneath the thin, silky layer when you allow him just a glimpse, swatting his hand away with a look sharper than a knife's edge when your eyes connect with his over your shoulder.

But Steve knows better than to take it seriously. There's no ire behind your glare — no unspoken threat meant to make him retreat. You're still mad, sure, he can feel the heat radiating off of you just as it's made his own skin warm but your expression softens just enough to confirm that what you really want is for him to come closer. And that's exactly what he does.

You feel the warmth of Steve's chest pressing against your back when you turn to the sink once more, his arms caging you in place, leaving you no room to escape. The water continues to run until he closes the faucet too, leaning down to whisper into your ear. "This how you want to solve it?", he asks, pulling his hand back to lift your robe again only this time you don't attempt to thwart him, letting him cup your ass and squeeze your soft skin. Hard.

The heat of last night's fight had died down to a simmer but it left you both burning in a different, much more familiar way as you answer him.

"Yeah. This is how I want to do it", you utter loud enough for him to hear you clearly though this close together, there's nothing he can miss no matter how softly you might whisper it.

The sound of his belt coming undone has you buzzing beneath your skin while you brace yourself, curling your fingers under the edge of the countertop as Steve finishes pulling out his girthy cock. But before he even attempts to get it anywhere near your entrance he holds out his palm to you, knowing that he doesn't need to ask for you to spit into it, something that feels instinctual now at this stage in your relationship as he draws it back and slicks up his cock with your saliva.

With his length coated in a warm, glossy mixture of your spit and his precum, Steve doesn't keep you waiting for long, your legs parting to help with easing the tip of his cock in.

"Does it hurt?", he asks and while it might sound like he's only concerned about you, you can hear the heat still present in his veins.

"A little", You answer with a little heat of your own, no intention of asking him to stop.

"Good. I know you can take it", he tells you, all thorns and shit eating grins.

It doesn't happen as easily as when you two take the time to engage in foreplay first, your body usually opening up to accept him once he's gotten you ready with his tongue or fingers but this time Steve manages to notch his tip by your hole and breach you once it pops inside with a little effort, the rest of him slowly sinking inch by inch into your velvet heat.

Despite the wetness that smears your inner thighs, your whole body tenses and you have to breathe through it, pain marrying pleasure while you're being stretched open, hissing under your breath when he reaches his base. He spends a few seconds all the way inside you, just feeling you wrap around him and squeeze, your walls pulsing when he decides that's as soft as he'll allow himself to be with you today.

And he proves it when he begins pulling himself out, only to grit his teeth and drive himself back in again, making you squeal instantly, getting you thoroughly acquainted with the feeling and the force of every thrust as his pelvis bounces against your ass.

Steve so rarely ever fucks you like this and you're so caught up in taking his cock that you barely notice the way he reaches up to pull the front of your robe open too, realizing what he's done when he finds your nipples and begins to pinch and tug on them, smirking when it draws a high pitched whimper out of you as your steady breathing turns to shallow pants.

But you're not some delicate flower type. You're not one to be so compliant and let him ruin you so easily. So while Steve's busy fondling your chest you're quick to even the score when you grab hold of his right hand, lifting it up to your mouth so you can sink your teeth into the soft skin between his thumb and his wrist.

The pained hiss turned groan he lets out despite himself is a small victory but a sweet one nonetheless, enough to make you smile around his throbbing hand before deciding to remove your teeth from him, making sure to scoff at him all smug as he rubs at the little red teeth marks left behind on his tan skin.

Of course he takes it as well as a throatful of glass, considering the act a challenge for more.

Steve offers you one small moment of respite, slowly pulling almost all the way out, making sure his swollen tip remains inside you while you sigh, only to make you choke on a moan when he pushes all the way inside again in a single hard thrust, punching the air out of you.

You wanted to retaliate again, maybe reach behind to sink your nails into his thigh, scraping at his skin until narrow lines or blood rise to the surface or even rip at the clothes that hang on him in his state of half undress but you're unable to follow through this time with how he's managed to rattle you.

Steve's far too pleased to feel your elbows start to shake as your arms struggle to keep you up at this point, set on making your knees wobble too just so he can gloat about it later when you find it difficult to pick yourself up off the kitchen floor and walk away once he's done with you.

Slowly, Steve withdraws again, glee lighting up his eyes when he pushes back in with the same force of that first sharp thrust and this time you fail to stop a short scream from ripping out of your throat, back arching from how well and hard he's pressing against that spot deep inside you.

"Something you wanna say, sweetheart?", he sneers and taunts, pleased when you struggle to put together a coherent sentence while trying to endure his unforgiving pace. "Spit it out before I stop being so nice."

You muster what you can and manage to whimper it out, feeling so worn out though you haven't even reached your climax yet.

"Cum inside me. Please", you tell him — beg him, fingers turning cold and numb from how hard your grasping the countertop.

He's nothing short of cocky when he hears you whine all desperate and spent, a smug sense of accomplishment washing over him when he sees the thick coating of slick and cream you've left on his cock as he watches it withdraw and disappear inside you one harsh thrust after the other.

And then you tell him the rest.

"M—miss you when you're gone. Need to —ngh. Need to feel you in me when you're not here", you manage to string the words together before letting out a sound that's somewhere between a gasp and a whine, the kind he'll think about later on his own, working himself up until he's got no choice but to pry it out of you again.

But this isn't one of those moments, no matter how much he'd liked the sounds falling from your parted, panting lips.

Steve loses his rhythm before he stills completely inside you, your words sinking in like nails piercing his skin.

This was it. The crux of last night's argument.

You missed Steve. He'd been working too hard lately and you'd grown concerned. With the stress of his job and the little sleep he'd had he'd grown defensive and you'd gotten irritated, both of you clashing when you should have been listening and working together.

When he had woken up this morning Steve had cooled down enough to know he'd been unfair to you the night before. He was usually the type to talk things out but he'd gotten swept up in how things happened to pan out today, wrapping an arm around you tenderly, the hand you'd bitten placed over your thumping heart. He nuzzles his chin onto your shoulder to get closer to you, the stubble he'd been unable to shave this morning scratching against your skin gently as he whispers into your ear with so much sincerity.

"I'm sorry— I'm so sorry."

The sound of him all earnest and ragged makes you melt in his hold because you know how much he means it — you can practically feel how much he means it as it sinks into your skin and reaches into your ribcage.

Like Steve, you would have been open to talking it out had this been a regular fight. This particular fight however had you dumping more fuel on to the fire that roared between you because it required more than just words to resolve everything. It needed more than swapped apologies for the two of you to make amends and return back to normal.

You really needed to fuck it out. All teeth and nails and sore, spent bodies.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too", you answer, a smile growing on your parted, panting lips. "Now fuck me, will you?"

It catches Steve off guard enough to make him snort, thankful that the worst of your fight is behind you now as he starts to pick up the pace again, firm but also tender with the way his lips move against your neck and his fingers brush and roll at your nipples.

"Going to make it up to you, baby. Gonna be around more. Gonna be here for you, okay?", he pants against your skin, all gravelly groans and grunts with his nails digging into the skin on your waist.

You moan out his name, using what little strength you feel you have left to push yourself back to meet his thrusts. "Steve, oh fuck... I'm so close. I need you— I fucking need you, please."

He snaps his hips against your ass again, drawing out a blissful shudder out of you. "Gonna make it all right but until then—", you feel him draw away from you a little bit then, his hands leaving your body as you realize that he's going through his pockets.

With his cock still buried inside you and throbbing, he pulls out his phone and begins dialing, his thrusts commencing again, steady and deep enough to make your whole body draw tight, your release within reach.

"Try to keep it down while I call in sick, okay? Gonna have you all to myself today. Promise I'll keep you nice and full— gonna look so beautiful when you're dripping with me..."

[eccentricallygothic]

Coy

Pairing: Daddy!Steve Rogers | Shy Gf!You.

Description: Steve makes his shy girl call him Daddy <3

Warning(s): Stevie is lowkey a lil mean, m!dom, f!sub, size kink, unprotected p-in-v, missionary, doggy style, dick riding towards the end, spanking, hair pulling, age gap bc it's me, slight bondage idk, choking, humiliation, dumbification, dirty talk. MDNI.

Type: Request for my lovely @chxrryhansen, here. 

MASTERLIST

❤️

“C'mon, just say it, baby” Steve wasn't sure if the annoyance in his voice was unclear or if you were just that stupid. 

“Nooo, Stevie!” You giggled even though you had been whining just a few seconds ago because of how much strength he had had to use and the endurance that had been required of you to withstand the entering of his monstrous cock in your tight little pussy. Yes, Steve had indeed fingered you before that. And yes, it still hadn't been enough to open up your tiny hole. 

Not for Steve, anyway.

“Oh—” he stopped to keep himself from saying something hurtful because you were too sensitive for your own good. “Just… fuck!” He abruptly cursed as your pussy responded to the twitching of his dick by clenching around it just when he was balls deep inside you. “Just say it for me, yeah, baby?” You were choking his dick out and his dick was in pain too. 

Only, your tightness and his girth made up a pain too nice for either of you to want to stop. 

Your face was flush and your heavy breaths were labored, the weight of his massive body pressing yours down into the mattress. “B- But it's wrong, S- Stevie…” It took him all his strength to not scoff at your words so he took his ire out on your poor little nipple that was trapped between his cruel fingertips. 

“Why?” Steve's hips nearly collided with yours when he gave you yet another heavy but speedy thrust. 

“B- Because you're not actually my Daddy, S- Steve— hnng!” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you felt his breach intensify, the pangs that were being caused by the vicious jabbing of his hard, thick tip against your innermost spot on the brink of reaching your cervix. 

Steve's nose flared and his blue eyes suddenly flashed you an icy look. “Yeah?” His eyebrows went flat but the violent rocking of his body against yours didn't. The room was full of the gut-wrenchingly obscene sounds of skin slapping against flesh. “Who do you think I am, then?” 

It was getting harder to form proper words the more his cock caused for the burning knot to tighten between your hips. “Y- You… You're… AH!” Your arms that were coiled around his broad shoulders tightened against his neck to withstand how his huge hand rudely was squeezing your boob. “You're… b- bofi…” Steve's strength was no joke.

“And who says bofis can't be Daddies?” The golden haired man expectantly peered down at you for an answer but you were too busy moaning and rocking yourself against his cock as much as his heavy body allowed you to do so. 

“B- But…” Your small protest told him all he needed to know.

Steve didn't have time for this nonsense. 

A loud plop! sounded in the air and you blushed a deep shade of red despite your worked up state. Before you could word your complaint about why Steve had suddenly pulled out of your weepy cunt, the older flipped you onto your chest and roughly pushed what remained of your shirt -the beast had a thing for ripping your clothes off, good thing he made up for it by buying you prettier compensations- up your arms and around your wrists until they were bound above your head. 

New slick bubbled out of your opening as you whimpered and felt your hole blink in sensitive realization of the fact that now he wanted you to lay your face down and keep your ass up. Fuck. When he took you like that, there was absolutely nothing he couldn't make you do or say. 

After that, Steve had your throat in one hand and your boobs in the other, his muscular thighs fished their way under your trembling legs to collect them out of his way. His tip that had cooled down a bit made you jump when he entered you again and though the penetration was somewhat easier this time around, you couldn't help but whine from the stretch again. 

And then, Steve went into a crazed jackhammer mode. Your throat tickled and ached from the deep groans that crawled up your vocal cavity, ones that your position was forcing you to stifle into the mattress. The temperature of his cock easily returned back to its previous warmth. 

“Say it” he demanded as he squeezed your windpipe. 

All you could let out was a humiliating, breathless and incoherent guttural ‘aaaaah~’ as your body began to slide off his due to the force of his brutal fucking. The tip of your nose hurt from how it rubbed up and down the bedding.

“Tsk, messy little kiddie brat” his hand abandoned your boob to firmly claw around one of your thighs to hold you in place to ensure a smooth pounding. “Needs Daddy for everything but acts like she doesn't” you could deny it to your heart's content and be as shy and ‘innocent’ as you pleased, but the way you moaned, messed yourself up and clenched when he said the dirtiest things was not lost on him.

Steve knew you liked it all just as much as he did. 

“Oh, my God—!” Steve squeezed your throat again because he did not like what he was hearing. Your lungs ached from the strain he was putting them under.

“Now that's a bit far, baby” before he shook in mirth and the vibration of his body shook your squishy walls, the sensation causing your eyes to roll until their undersides burnt. “But I guess that's okay too” your fucked out mind felt somewhat relieved. Maybe this would satiate him and you would not have to— “But that's not what I want to hear you call me tonight” your chest ached from the wheeze you let out when he finally let your throat go to smack your ass and you could breathe again. “Come on, now. Chop, chop” you cried out from the frustration. 

He was so mean.

“After all, Daddies take care of their kids. And I take care of you, don't I?” There was something in the way he worded it. You moaned out loud. His balls began to penetrate your stubborn opening. 

And then he crept his fingers between your legs and against your cunt. The grainy digits stroked your hardened flesh. And you knew at once, you had lost. 

It was impossible to hold back now. The taut dam of your building orgasm came undone and your toes curled as bittersweet relief exploded between your hips and down your legs.

“DADDY! OH, DADDY! OH!” You began to chant uncontrollably, feeling your knees shake as cold sweat trickled down the back of your thighs. 

“Now that's more like the dirty little slut that I've raised on this cock” when Steve really got into chasing his own orgasm, and he always did that after yours, the most obscene and sodomous things came out of his mouth. “Tell me, brat” since you were going through a mind melt, Steve smacked your ass to redirect your attention to him. “Will you ever try to deny your Daddy again?” His hand wrapped your hair around it and your body curved in a humiliating angle as he pulled you up to bounce on his cock now.

“N- No, no, Daddy, no! Never!” Your orgasm was turning into overstimulation and there was not a damn thing you could do about it.  

“Really?” You broke into a fit of cries when Steve began to pat-slap your clit. “Doesn't sound very convincing to me…”

“No! No, Daddy! I promise! I promise! I promise I won't, Daddy!” You were curved so far out that your head collapsed on one of his hard shoulders. Your chest ached from how violently your tits bounced up and down.

“That's my girl” The baritone of Steve's voice drilled into your mind as he looked down at you before capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, one tyrannical paw settling on your chest to keep you from falling down, hips springing you up and down like a mindless little toy.

❤️

Everything tag 🩷: @rosecentury

I know it sucks, I am sorry. I have a very bad creative block these days but I am trying my best to clear out all requests <3 

[sleepiexx]

Something He’d Overheard

James Potter x fem!Reader

Note: I’ve been in the marauders fandom for over 7 years now, I think it’s high time I write a fic for it. Part of my efforts to branch out into writing for more fandoms than COD.

Summary: James finds himself head over heels when he sees you defending a first year student.

Warnings: some curse words here and there, bullying mention, overall rlly soft

Word Count: 1151

After countless fictional characters and random strangers on the street with pretty faces catching his burning ire, anyone who knew James Potter knew good and well that he was a lover. He had long believed in love at first sight, merely seeing someone eye-catching often sparked thoughts of budding romance, fantasies of how they would love and what their relationship would look like amongst other things. Soulmates and fate were a big concept to him too, for example his favorite book character, a headstrong witch who was kind and brilliant, well James had a hunch that in another life they were lovers.

He’d fallen in love just about a million times, and yet something about you was different.

You had caught James’ eye one day as he made the trek to the library to collect his good friend Remus for their group’s usual night’s worth of mischief. Your beautiful eyebrows were pinched together in anger, a sneer on your pretty lips, your voice was loud and firm as you scolded one of the usual culprits (a death eater in the making) for bullying a defenseless first year student.

Your hand clutched your wand intently as you damn near hissed the words, “you wanna try picking on someone who can actually fight back?”

They let out a scoff and left the scene, leaving you, the first year, and unbeknownst to you, James.

The switch between standoffishness and caring came like whiplash. Your tensed frame relaxed as you knelt down in front of the first year (those eleven year olds seemed to be growing shorter and shorter every year). Your dominant hand reached out and gently wiped away the younger child’s tears.

“Everything he said is bullshit,” you began, “he’s angry at the world, looking for someplace to fit in, and unfortunately it’s really easy to fall into the wrong crowd. You haven’t, and he’s jealous of that.”

The kid sniffled, pout still indented firmly on their little lips, “who would be jealous of me?”

You shook your head in disbelief, “plenty of people! You have a gift that a large part of the world’s population doesn’t possess, that’s something to be proud of no matter what other witches and wizards try to tell you. Heck, I’m even jealous of you.”

As you spoke a smile crept its way on the first year’s face, “you are?” They asked.

“Yeah, I am!” You nodded, “you’ve got six and a half more years left at Hogwarts to have fun and run about the castle, I only have another year and a half.”

“This place is pretty cool,” they muttered.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Your face lit up and you stood to your feet, offering the small child your hand so you could walk them back to their common room. You’d never seen the awe-stricken onlooker, but the scene was now burned into James’ mind.

It followed him to the library, where he convinced Remus to follow him to their other friends, a long walk that Remus spent listening to James drone on and on about you. It followed him to his dorm that night, and every other night for weeks leaving the marauders to know every single detail about you. And it most especially followed him to each of the classes you had together where James would stare at you and admire your appearance while daydreaming about you.

It was the third time that week that the scene had followed him to the lunch table when Sirius slammed his palms on the table, “I’m putting an end to this nonsense right now. You either talk to her, Prongs, or I will. And trust me, you won’t like how in depth I will go about those daydreams you’ve been having where-“

Sirius couldn’t even finish his sentence with how fast James jumped in, “alright, alright! I have potions with her next, I’ll talk to her, I swear.”

The statement leaves the marauders satiated in conversation as they finish up their lunch and head to their classes.

In potions, James nearly decides to abandon ship, facing a new anxiety he’d never experienced before when dealing with a girl. He decides that maybe it would be best to keep to himself, too afraid to stumble on his words and make a fool of himself in front of such a pretty girl. All this is until Professor Slughorn proclaims that today’s assignment requires a partner. If there ever was a time to shoot his shot, it’s now.

He takes deep breaths, adjusting his posture and forcing his every step to radiate confidence before he reaches you, “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to be my partner?”

You smile, “I’d love to! Fair warning, though, I’m not the best at potions.”

James bursts out into a giddy grin, “I’m willing to pick up the slack.”

“Unfortunately, I bet I’ll make you eat your words,” nonetheless you collect the ingredients as James collects the supplies.

When everything is together, James reads off the instructions. You follow them with great care, not wanting to make a fool of yourself in front of your new, devilishly handsome potions partner.

You make to slice open one of the ingredients, as the instructions called for, but your knife slips, sending the damned thing hurdling straight towards your face. You close your eyes, bracing yourself for an impact that never comes, reopening them only to be met with the sight of the back of James’ hand.

“Holy shit,” you curse, “did you just catch that?”

James nods, almost surprised at himself.

You shake your head in disbelief, “if you weren’t such a good chaser, I’d suggest you take up seeking.”

Your statement renews James’ confidence, so you’d noticed him too?

“Can I show you how to cut it?” He asks, a smile on his face.

You nod, watching his hands intently, confused when he disappears behind you. You quickly piece together what’s happening when he grabs your hands with his own, handing you the knife and positioning you so that you slice through the ingredient like it’s nothing.

“Great job!” James praises, even though it was him that had done all the work.

You still take the compliment, grinning from ear to ear as he tosses the final ingredient into the potion, creating the rich purple color you were striving for, “we make a really good team, Potter.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, “well what do you say we see if we make as good of a couple?” You feel blood rush to your cheeks, James further clarifies “Hogsmeade this weekend? Just you and me?”

And you nod eagerly, “I would love that.”

If Sirius thought James asking you out would be the solution to him raving on and on about you all hours of the day, he was sorely mistaken and he was about to figure that out as soon as James stepped into the common room.

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton, p4

Masterpost late, tired, still emotional and physically fragile. please no editing <3

“—ir? Sir?”

Danny mumbled something incoherent that was supposed to be a response to that, or befuddlement about being called ‘sir’, or at least something better than ‘wadamehaaftz’. The bite of a tightening blood pressure cuff around his arm helped bring him a little be back to the world. He opened his eyes right into too bright light and winced back in reaction.

“Sir? Do you need us to call an ambulance?” the panicked looking barista asked. She was crouched down next to him where he lay on the floor.

Great, now he could never come back to this coffee shop. That was a damn shame, they had really good bagels.

“No,” Danny managed to make his mouth say. “Seizure. Newish thing for me. I’m fine—will be fine. Sorry.”

“Maybe you should stay laying down for a moment longer?” The barista suggested.

Danny hummed. “Don’t want to be a bother.”

“Dude,” someone said off to Danny’s right. He didn’t think it was worth the effort to turn his head and look, “you just had a seizure. You were screaming. Like, I think we’re all okay if you lay there. We can step around you.”

There were murmurers of agreement.

“Okay, yeah, you know what, great,” Danny said and summoned the willpower to lift his hand and give there room a thumbs up. He let it drop listlessly back down onto his chest.

At least the floor was cool against his back. And he did feel a bit better not trying to get up immediately. When he finally pulled himself back up into his chair, the nice barista brought him a glass of ice water with a straw. Danny drank every drop of the first glass and a refill until the paper of the stupid straw started to turn to mush between his lips.

Knowing that he wouldn’t be up for doing much especially that day, Danny got a bagel sandwich to go, left a generous tip, and fled the cafe with his proverbial tail between his legs.

Penny was was at the apartment. She shoved a still warm load of banana bread at Danny as she bitched about her latest failed relationship. Apparently her girlfriend had been hooking up with the bouncer at their favorite bar. Not that Penny would have minded if they had talked through it before hand and Penny was allowed to join every now and again.

Which, fair, the bouncer did have amazing arms.

When Penny’s phone rang, blaring a dated pop song, Danny was able to make his escape with the added load of his two liter water bottle and bag of little oranges. Or not oranges—clementines? Tangelos? Whatever, little oranges.

He set everything down on the end of his bed before flinging himself onto it.

Another seizure. A worse one.

But a clearer vision of the ghost than he’d ever had before.

Groaning, Danny dragged himself to hang over the edge of his bed so he could pull out one of the storage cubes from under it. After a bit of shuffling, he got the one he wanted out from the back: a long ignored stack of art supplies. Danny rummaged around in it for a pencil and eraser before he pulled the sketchbook out from the bottom. He flipped past old game ides and idle doodles to find a blank page and started to work.

There was so much of the ghost that he still couldn’t define, but the more he worked at the sketch of the ghost’s face, the more he started to narrow it down.

Danny stared down at the page.

Overworked eyes stared back.

Feeling frustrated at how close it was, Danny grabbed a blue marker from the page and filled in the eyes carefully. Then, with almost irritated strokes, Danny roughly messed in the strikingly orange hair.

Now his ghost started back.

“Hello there…"

[moonstruckme]

Ik you're probably busy rn and you don't have to write this ir you don't wanna-

So remus with. Sensitive reader? Like i, personally, get teary any time someone yells at me or is angry ot condescending and i feel like even though Remus is th sweetest person ever when it comes to scolding, being reprimanded by my favourite person would so make me cry.

And we all know that Remus can get abit hot headed around the full moon so maybe smth along hurt/comfort w that ❤️

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: weed, mention of vomit (no description of any kind, just a brief reference)

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 755 words

You steal the blunt from between Remus’ lips, holding out your bag of crisps as a trade. 

He accepts, side-eyeing you in a way you choose to interpret as playful. Although you know the days leading up to the full moon are hell for Remus, neither of you mind this part so much. You’d prepared last weekend, stocking your shared flat with lavish quantities of chocolate and weed which you allow yourself to sample as payment for your efforts and general good-girlfriend standing. You think you’ve done a decent job; your boyfriend is lax on the couch next to you, the space between his brows wonderfully smooth and free of the wrinkles that accrue there when he’s having one of his migraines. 

“Alright, you’re done after that,” he says as you inhale.

“What?” You let your mouth drop open in faux indignation, a giggle building in your chest. “No fair.” 

“Mhm.” He crunches noisily on a crisp, mindless of your pouting. “You’ve had enough, dove.” 

“Fine."

He leans forward for the blunt and you hold it for him as wraps his lips around it, exhaling the smoke with an insouciant expertise. He reaches forward to take it from between your fingers, but you move quickly, leaning away from his reach to take a swift hit. You imagine the smoke curling and winding in your lungs as you suck in a great breath. You blow it out the corner of your mouth, your lips twisting into a grin. 

Remus isn’t smiling. 

“Are you serious?”

His tone is incredulous, and your giggly high fades as you realize he’s not joking. 

“I just said you’ve had enough,” he fumes, snatching the blunt from you and squashing it into the ashtray on the coffee table. “Are you trying to green out? Because I’m not in the mood to clean up your vomit.”

Your mouth has gone dry. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Remus huffs, closing his eyes and tilting his head towards the ceiling. Your face burns. He’s exhausted with you.

“Why would you do that?” he asks, and though his tone has cooled slightly, the exasperation is almost worse.

“I don’t know,” you say. Your voice comes out squeaky and wrong. “I’m really sorry.” 

He looks over at you, some of the storminess clearing from his expression. 

“I thought we were playing, I—I wasn’t trying to—“ You take a shuddering breath, trying to keep the wetness in your eyes from escaping. “I won’t throw up, I promise.” 

“Hey.” He sounds almost confused, but it morphs quickly into alarm when you blink and a tear skids down your face. “Hey, don’t cry.” 

“I’m sorry.” You push your fingertips into your eyes as if you can forcibly dam the flow. Your skin is hot to the touch. “I’m not trying to.” 

“Dove, come on.” Remus’ hands encircle your wrists. He pulls them towards him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so harsh.” 

“No, you’re right.” Your voice quavers. “I wasn’t taking you seriously.” 

“I didn’t need to be stern with you,” he says, tone firm but soft as he raises your hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles. “It was a misunderstanding. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.” 

You press your lips together, unsure how to respond but resolute on stopping your tears. 

Remus frowns. He sets your hands down carefully, using his thumbs to soothe over the hot tracks on your cheeks. 

“Sirius always says I get bitchy this time of the month,” he murmurs. A little laugh startles out of you, and he grins. You get the sense that was his aim. “Thank you for dealing with me when I get like this.” He kisses the tip of your nose. “I know you don’t have to, and I appreciate it. I’ll try to keep a better leash on my temper.” 

“I always want to deal with you,” you laugh, following it with a sniffle. “I think I need to keep a better leash on my delicate sensibilities.” 

“I love your sensibilities,” Remus argues. He mushes your face affectionately between his hands. “I’m sorry for scolding you, sweetheart. Do you feel sick?” 

You take hasty stock of yourself. You’ve definitely reached the point just past too much, but you’ll be okay. “Nope,” you report back happily. “But I do feel like I’d like some snacks, please.” 

Remus passes you the bag of crisps, then some chocolates, then a tin of biscuits. And you feast on kisses for the rest of the night.

[bunnysthirstcorner]

A short and spicy DinoClassico X reader/oc : Dino gets possessive and jealous after a gala meeting in which other vamps seemed a bit too friendly with his woman!

Warnings: Posessive!Dino, some spice as well as general red flagness that this man is known for.

I had alot of fun with this! I hope it was what you wanted.

The air was sweet; Sickingly sweet.

The Aristocrat hated the rich perfumes that the wealthy women wore. His poor vampiric senses could only take so much but despite this he could tell where his beloved 5th and final wife was at due to the perfume he gifted her, almost like a clear fresh air amongst the decadence of Aristocracy. He had gifted each of his wives this smell so he could tell where they were; Only letting him know when the smell was gone so was the wife. 4 times he endured this and with the advice of his butler, he agreed to marry for the 5th time but he will do so on his terms.

This is where his final wife came into picture; His favorite due to being his choice. He was rather possessive of her as she wasn't of vampire blood but human. A very logical human at that. His son and heir adored her so he decided to keep a closer eye on her during these parties and to his ire; It brought other lords to her like moths to a light due to her being approachable. In the back where he lurked, hunched over as his tired eyes were watching intently as one particular lord places his hand on her shoulder as if they were old friends.

Sickening. Improper.

With the hour from the clock alerted him of the time, he made his move to his wife where he gave a glare to the other lord that spoke 'back off' as he has his hand on her elbow to get her attention.

"Dear, we need to get going, I got message that we need to arrive home." He replied and with not knowing better, his wife agreed and hurried with her goodbyes and left. Once in the carriage was when she asked what the issue was, it was when he took a gloved hand of hers and peeled the glove off. "Oh, its nothing." He replied as this resulted her in tilting her head before she felt a sharpness sinking into her wrist.

Dino took a taste of her rich blood

"Those lords where swarming over what was mine, I didn't think you'd allow such attention....Maybe I should keep you on a shorter leash..." He replied with a cool venom in his tone that spore of his ilk of his previous feelings at the gathering. "What? Dino, dear, don't think that way" You replied in defense as the firm grip he had kept hold on your wrist. "I was only being polite. I never grew up in this life, I didn't want to disgrace the Classico name by being rude." She reasoned, her tone assuring as was her warm gaze onto his.

His eyes looked to hers to see if her words were false but low, they spoke the truth. Licking the ruby off of his thin lips, he gave a small peck to the spot he bit to then have gloved fingers keep the injury from flowing. He didn't speak but his hold spoke of his settled emotions as he looked to her before he leaned to her neck, inhaling the fresh scent before his tongue licked at her pulse point. He could smell her delicious life force as it caused his fangs to itch for a bite but he refused. He wanted her human a bit longer before taking The cursing bite of immortality.

He has to be sure she will stick around.

"D-Dino..." You replied with a small gasp. Your neck has always been a sensitive spot which resorted a small chuckle from him as he then parted, sitting next to her as he released his hold on her wrist. The spot was red but it didn't hurt as much due to his touch.

"When we get home, Go to the bedroom....I will make sure those lords know that you're Lady Classico , not some Debutant to swarm over." he said as the carriage was up the road to the mansion. You felt your cheeks grow hot and pink from the promise of the rare union in bed. 'Would he really keep his promise?' You thought. Surely he's as tired as you are and won't be as energetic.

Sadly, you don't get much sleep that night. It was worth the ache of his back.

[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!

[gingerteawrites]

BY THE HEARTH: SHATTER

A/N: For some reason this chapter felt SO DIFFICULT to write, whew. But here we finally are. Thank you all so much for your comments on the last chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one as well! Previous part here.

Content: Royalty!AU, Nanami x female reader, king Nanami, Princess Y/N, Widower Nanami, Toddler Yuuji, hurt, angst. Not beta read

Word count: ~5.3K words

Banner by: @cafekitsune

ACT X

The past couple of weeks since the king had returned had been… Well… interesting. The whole castle was on edge. The usual excited chatter between maids as they completed their duties had been reduced to rushed whispers. Guards on duty did not even dare to exchange pleasantries.

The king was mad.

No one had ever seen him in such a state of disarray. His hair was still pristinely styled and his steps measured to perfection. But the energy had noticeably shifted. He had no polite smile to spare to anyone, and even less pleasantries for the aristocrats he had the duty of meeting with. His mask of passivity was replaced by one of annoyance. An ever-present twitch in his brow.

While none of the servants had ever been subject to the king’s ire, they certainly did not want to test the waters. Every task was carried out neatly. Ever order was followed to perfection.

You were very much aware of this shift in mood, but carried on with a seemingly astounding lack of consideration. Thank heavens the prince had fully recovered, and your casual time together had thus resumed. Reading until sunset, archery classes that you had grown to excel at. A way to get rid of pent up emotions. And even gardening time in the warm summer days.

Except you no longer attended the regular dinners, sending the child away before privately dining in your personal quarters. You put on your own mask of indifference every time you caught a glimpse of the king, and it was quite literally eating him up from the inside.

Nanami’s thoughts were a spiraling, tumultuous mess. The monopoly you had taken over his thoughts. And your simple refusal to acknowledge him drove him to quiet insanity. No, that would not be entirely accurate. You still bowed to greet him every time you happened to be in a shared space. But the smile was gone from your face, tucked away from his sight. The gleeful tune of your laugh was no longer heard. You general candor now kept under wraps. And all of that was tantamount to not having you at all. And the king missed you. So very badly.

The king knew that what had transpired during your last conversation was the direct origin of his current predicament. But the stubborn part of his heart was unrelenting. I did not do anything wrong. I needed to establish that boundary. I’m doing it for Yuuji.

So he went on, trying to focus on the crisis his nation was faced with instead, fighting an upward battle to rid his thoughts of you. A battle he lost time and time again.

In the depths of the night, when he had no energy left to push away his longing, the king found himself wandering to the royal kitchens. Not at all hungry for bread, but hoping. Hoping he would find a certain someone in the cool of the room. Maybe sitting at the table, basking in the candle light. Night dress clinging onto your body delicately, eyes shining with questions and stories.

He rubbed a hand over his face. The room was empty, cold. Like every night since his return.

You did the right thing, Kento. You did it for Yuuji.

The mantra was starting to sound old, even to his own ears.

You were crouched by the flowers, watching Yuuji gently trace the petals of a blooming peony. The small garden that you considered yours had been in full bloom for the past couple of weeks. Having entirely missed the festivities of the flower festival because of his illness, Yuuji jumped excitedly when you suggested making him a flower crown. So you watched with an earnest smile as he walked around with a serious air, examining every blossom he wanted on his crown. So far, he had picked a sunflower, dahlias, marigolds. As well as bright orange lilies, germanium and roses.

This is certainly going to be quite the assortment. You chuckled to yourself, watching him head for yarrow bush. From the corner of your eye you noticed the king, walking through the nearby corridor. You felt the holes his eyes practically burned at the back of your neck, but did not turn around. Upon noticing his father’s fleeting presence, Yuuji waved excitedly. Nanami waved back and walked away without a word.

The boy then brought you the last of his picks, and you carried the rainbow of colors to the small tea table, keen on showing the young prince how to make his own crown. So he could make one for the whoever he deemed deserving of the gesture. Sometimes you wondered about who Yuuji kept as friends. He seldom had other children to play with, a staunch contrast to your upbringing in a big family. But you kept the thoughts to yourself, focusing on being there for him as much as you could.

“So, you turn the stem this way, so that it wraps around the other flow-” you were in the middle of demonstrating when you were interrupted by small hands covering yours.

“Mama,” he had taken to calling you that. And you simply did not have it in your heart to deny the child. In fact, the words delighted you. A testament to at least one secure attachment you had forged in this place.

“Yes, Yuuji? Is everything alright?” You looked at him curiously. Was he perhaps hungry? It was almost time for lunch.

“Are you and papa fighting?” Your brows furrowed. You had tried not to make it obvious to the child. He did not deserve to get caught up in between you two. But he was so smart, so perceptive. While not always keen on other cues, Yuuji was able to read people’s emotions with almost frightening accuracy.

You let go of the flower crown, watching it unravel slowly away from your guiding hands, and held the boy’s hand firmly. You leaned in, offering the most reassuring smile you could muster. “Don’t you worry about a thing, dear,” you shook his hand gently, earning you a light giggle from the boy. “Sometimes… grown ups need to have tough conversations. But that has nothing to do with you.”

“So you’ll still be my mama?” you felt your heart squeeze at the sentence, resting your hand on his cheek. “Of course, Yuuji. As long as I can!” he nuzzled into your touch.

“Awesome!” He beamed, attention returning to the flowers. “Because I love you and papa veeeeeeery much,” the smile was back on his lips but yours faltered a bit.

As long as you were allowed to be. You were the queen, but the title felt more and more like a farce. If the king did not acknowledge you as such, you did not know what you were allowed to keep. How much longer you could hold onto this connection. After all, he had said it himself. Yuuji was his son.

Haibara walked through the palace halls, sword heavy on his hip. After officially returning with the king from their trip down South, he had been assigned various tasks in the capital including gathering intel and placing informants in important places. He had not worked this hard since the trials of squirehood, and he was frankly exhausted. Fighting campaigns were predictable, and sometimes even fun. He found excitement in the madness. Away from the prying eyes of the aristocracy.

But elucidating what seemed to constitute high treason brought not an ounce of reprieve. Still, he was one of the few the king trusted enough to grant the task.

Unfortunately, with the king’s worsening temperament, he almost wished he was not entering his study to deliver a report. Nanami looked up through the glasses perched across his nose, acknowledging Haibara with a hum that sounded more like a grunt, before returning his attention to the documents before him. The knight bowed, greeting the king, but then looked up with a frown. He crossed his arms over this chest, the metal of his armor clanking at the action.

“Okay, so what on God’s green earth is going on?” The knight questioned, and the king fully looked up, tension evident in his strong brow.

“What do you mean by that? We are investigating possible treason and I am expecting information from you regarding your progress.”

Questioning the prisoners had unfortunately yielded little fruit. The person inciting the conflict had clearly been careful to never appear in person to those doing the fighting. There was no way to trace back directly to them. The description of the one who relayed this mastermind’s orders was limited to a “tall man with dark hair.”

But the financial records of the Southern city had at least highlighted three main families as possible suspects:

The Gojos, in view of their significant investments in the South and their history of power hunger (but why would their heir even offer help in that case? As a distraction?). The Zenins, with their solidly established duchy. They were known for their unscrupulous manners and had been under previous investigation for hiring militia. The thought of talking to Duke Naoya irritated the king to no end. That man was a stain on manhood. And finally, the Kamos. Though their Marquess was by no measure a honest man, Yuuji was still his grandson of sorts. Such a flagrant attack on the crown seemed maybe too ambitious, even for him. The king was at a loss about the situation.

But that was not the head knight’s current focus.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” the knight approached, shaking his head lightly. “Listen, Kento, I’m not sure exactly what is bothering you so deeply. But you have to figure that out before you can efficiently tackle anything else.” Haibara’s words were decisive, his gaze sharp as he looked at his king. But most importantly his friend. Who looked like his mind was actively imploding.

Nanami let out a breath. He truly hated how Haibara was able to see through him. To be fair, he had not been doing a grand job at hiding what bothered him anyway. In the grand scheme of things, his feelings should have been entirely unimportant. They had always been. The last thing to be considered when decisions were to be made.

But that did not stop the issue from infiltrating every corner of his being and souring his thoughts. The knight took slow steps until he sat in the chair facing the king, sighing at the sight in front of him.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” He asked, and Nanami’s eyes shot up to meet his friend’s, who took that as confirmation with a shake of his head. “Okay, so what did you do?”

“I?” Nanami sounded offended. Here it was, that stubbornness again. That pride.

“Yes, Kento, you. What happened?”

What sorcery did you possess to get everybody on your side. Though he was certain you had not said anything, everybody rallied to your defense. Yuuji had sulked for a whole week when Nanami had told him you were not to stay at his bedside anymore. And even the ever-charming Alma gave him disapproving looks.

Nanami sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. In defeat, he gave an overview of what had transpired between the two of you on the day he returned. He watched Haibara give himself the biggest facepalm, cursing under his breath at the words that left the king’s mouth.

“Now that was pretty fucking stupid of you,” Haibara said pointedly, and Nanami’s lips parted, about to protest when he continued. “And before you give any bullshit excuse, listen to yourself, Kento. Yuuji is your son, that is not up for question. But your insecurities about that are yours to deal with. You can’t just push her away because you feel inadequate and expect everything to be rosy. Do you not have one clue about how to treat women?” the knight rubbed at his temples, closing his eyes.

Nanami looked back at him, lips drawn into a thin line. He hated how he felt at the moment. How he knew that the man in front of him was right. His own pride had stopped him from acknowledging his faults because it felt easier. Somehow it felt easier to put himself through all this turmoil than face his fears of the unknown. Of the unfamiliar feelings that insistently crept and blossomed in his chest. Consuming his whole being and unfurling in a messy tango.

Nanami could not ask anything from you. Especially not the kind of love you freely gave to Yuuji. Wait, why was he even considering love? What did he know about love?

He knew devotion, he knew duty, but what had love taught him outside of his son? Hurt and pain. And absolute chaos. Chaos that he had spent his whole life fighting. Carefully ironing out every wrinkle in his being. Compartmentalizing every emotion into carefully crafted boxes.

But he knew Haibara was right. He had known for a while that things could not go on like this. Finding some sort of peace with you would be the only way to bring him any sort of respite. Even if you decided to not show him the openness you had before. Even if he had burned that bridge to the ground.

“I understand, Haibara,” Nanami sighed, taking off his glasses and resting them against the table. “I will fix it.”

Garden parties could often be a tedious affair. But after weeks of unanswered invitations, it was high time you made another appearance in high society. Even if just to appease the aristocracy. But as your carriage pulled into the royal gardens where the event was to be held, you were astounded by the grandiosity of it all. Everything you encountered in this kingdom truly reminded you of how small your home had been.

You stepped off the carriage, aided by a footman and walked leisurely as you were guided inside. Alma had insisted on you dressing as regal as possible for the occasion.

“High born ladies use these events to showcase their statute. You should wear something befitting their queen,” her tone was kind as she called for the other servants.

Your white dress's corset hugged your figure perfectly, its delicate lace collar resting across your shoulders. Golden lace gloves peeked from beneath the large sleeves, while the dress's white skirts cascaded down in layers, revealing glimpses of your golden petticoat beneath. The ensemble was finished with matching gold jewelry that, though somewhat heavy, you endured.

You reached the large greenhouse that stood tall at the center of the gardens, and braced yourself as you entered. As soon as they caught glimpse of you, the entire room halted. All the ladies and few gentlemen present bowed deeply in greeting, and you smiled to ease the atmosphere. They returned to their chatter, and you took a look around the room. Light food circulated in platters held by pristinely-dressed servants, and glasses of bubbling alcohol flowed as freely as the tea.

Soon enough, you were approached by Mei Mei, host of the whole ordeal. You bowed to each other in greeting, and she wrapped and arm around yours, behaving in a manner that suggested greater closeness between the two of you that was true. Still you let her, walking alongside to the main table.

“You look regal as always, your majesty,” she complimented, but you could tell the words were mere small talk. If anything, she was appraising the value of your golden embellishments.

“Thank you, though it is quite the challenge to look as opulent as you, Mei,” amusement cracked on her face at your reply, and she directed you to a seat next to hers at the table closest to the water fountain.

In your experience, garden parties were naught but gossip mills. As you sat down, you set your intentions. Spending as little time there as was socially acceptable, and keep your mouth shut. 5 months in this kingdom and all asking questions had ultimately amounted to was reproach. You had had enough. But that did not stop you from listening, the ladies around you certainly did not mince their words. You heard of a countess’ affair, of a marquess going broke and of new silks coming from the east. The stream of information flowed endlessly, to the point that you slowly checked out mentally. Tired, you looked around.

You saw Shoko and Utahime from the corner of your eye conversing over some pastries. They offered you warm smiles, which you returned. Clearly Mei Mei did not consider them of enough value to her to have them sat at the main table. Your returned your attention on the hostess, her white hair tumbling endlessly over her shoulders. But something was odd. The usually composed woman seemed rather on edge. And after prompting from the other ladies, she cracked.

“Those Zenins…” she scoffed. “Can you imagine the duke tried to pressure me into inviting him? Without offering a price at that, how dare he?” You remembered the rather haughty duke from the night of your first ball a few months back. He did not seem like the type to want to entertain such an event. So why was he interested?

“My queen, you have been so quiet,” your thoughts were interrupted by the lady to your left. “Are quite alright?”

“Oh, no need to worry.” you forced a chuckle and shook your head. “I am just a bit tired, that is all” The lady drew closer, attempting to speak in a hushed tone, but still loud enough to be heard by those around. “Is the king perhaps the reason for this fatigue?”

The words flustered you, and the rest of the ladies around erupted in a fit of giggles. The last time you had entertained any such thoughts were on your wedding night. And they were promptly shut down. If only they knew what was going on. The commenter excused herself for a bit, and the other ladies were still chuckling and chiding each other when someone approached the table.

“Well, can I join in on the fun, ladies?” Everyone’s head snapped to the intruder, the group seeming to immediately melt into a puddle. Your eyes too, found the mystery man.

“Duke Gojo,” they arose as a chorus and he greeted them with a bow.

Moving to kiss Mei on the cheek “Cousin,” he greeted casually before heading for the only empty seat where the Countess who was sitting beside you had just excused herself from.

“Your majesty,” he kneeled before you, making a show of kissing your hand. His appearance was striking indeed. The snow hair and sky blue eyes were compelling enough. But coupled with his blue Suit and golden buttons, you understood why most of the women’s eyes were on him. You bowed your head as greeting when he finally stood to sit beside you.

“Duke Gojo, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, my queen,” he picked up a glass of pearly champagne from passing servant. “I have been quite eager to meet you,” he smiled as he took a sip from the flute, eyes never leaving yours.

The insistence of his look was enough to fluster anyone, but you responded with a simple smile. You had grown used to the king’s stares and the authority behind his amber eyes. You feared nothing could ever intimidate you anymore. “I do hope I lived up to your expectations, then,” you entertained the small talk.

“Way beyond them, you truly are a sight for sore eyes. I see why the king is so enamored,” you wanted to laugh in his face. Enamored? Yeah, right. You wouldn’t have believed him for anything. You instead picked up your teacup, taking a long sip from the warm hibiscus tea.

The ladies at your table proceeded to ask the duke a flurry of questions about his absence, how he had been, how he was enjoying the season, if he was going to participate in the upcoming hunt and so on and so forth. The whole thing honestly made you a bit dizzy. But putting down your third cup of tea, you decided it was time to leave. You wanted to spend some time in the library before sunset.

You turned to Mei to announce your departure, and she responded with an open invitation for the next event. Before you could even get up, the duke stood and offered a hand.

“Please allow me to escort you back to your carriage, your majesty,” the words rolled smoothly from his lips, coupled with a dazzling smile. “It would be unbecoming of me to let you walk unaccompanied.”

“Thank you,” You took his hand, letting him guide you out of the greenhouse and into the courtyard’s warm air. His pace was slower than you would have preferred, but you did not rush him, giving occasional smiles and greetings to other people who had now spread out across the yard, smoking, playing games and chatting away.

“So how do you like our kingdom so far, your majesty?” the duke asked, and you looked up at him.

“Very diverting,” you replied curtly.

He laughed, turning towards you. “Very diverting indeed. Though with the king’s recent trip down South, I imagine there might be some troubles.”

Trip down South? Is that where Nanami had gone? You remembered the gossip about instability in the South. Of how it had driven up the price of pearls and imported stones. Is that why Nanami was so on edge? But how did the duke know, if even you had not been made aware.

You are just a help

Right, why would someone like you be privy to that sort of information.

Gojo noticed your silence, and chuckled again. “I apologize if that came off as rude,” he said, his smile turning sheepish.

“No, no, I am not offended,” You shook your head. “I appreciate your concerns but you do not have to worry about my situation,” you were finally a few paces away from the carriage, and the footman opened the door for you.

Gojo stopped, turning to face you before bringing your hand to his lips again. “It was a pleasure to be in your company today, my queen.”

“Mine as well, duke Gojo” you nodded.

“And please, call me Satoru,” the smile he flashed at you was dazzling indeed

You finally boarded the carriage. The coach driver set the vehicle in motion, and you felt it rock gently as it advanced. Standing where you had left him, the duke’s face held a sly smile.

Interesting. Quite interesting indeed.

The sky was painted in strokes of scarlet and amber as the sun dipped below the horizon. You had been in the library, by the large windows for the better half of an hour, but your efforts at reading the book that laid in your lap were in vain. You had told yourself you would stop thinking about it. That you would accept the position that you were so strongly reminded of and stop thinking about the damn man. But the words from the garden party about the king stuck with you.

Nanami had gone down South, most likely to deal with the crisis. But that information was kept private. The secrecy of the matter piqued your interest beyond belief. Was there someone the king was hoping to catch? And would his foul mood be evidence of lack of success in this endeavor? You breathed in deeply. To be truthful these were just distractions. To not dwell on the hurt that knocked you out when you thought of his rejection. Yes, it had felt like a rejection. Even though you had never even expressed your wishes for something more. You bottled up the hope and the hurt and all of your emotions and locked them away. You had to focus on finding fulfillment in this place. In the things you could do, rather than dreaming of the impossible.

You registered the sound of steps headed your direction. Too heavy to be a child’s, too precise to be anyone but one person’s.

“Your majesty,” you bowed your head in greeting even before you had to look up to see him.

Before you stood the king, imposing as always. But decidedly different than he had been before. More tired. And somehow less guarded. He stopped a couple feet away from your chair, not saying anything for a few moments. You finally looked up, waiting for him to make known the reason for his presence. He certainly did not come just to watch you read.

“Y/N, we need to talk,” he began, walking to sit on the cream sofa across from you. There he was again, calling you by your name and not your title. But it brought no feeling of warmth for you. Instead, you sat, guarded. Bracing yourself for whatever was coming this time.

“How can I be of service to you today, your majesty?” you spoke monotone, closing the book in your lap. He sighed, clasping his hands tightly. He knew he deserved every ounce of attitude from you. Of coldness. But still, part of him had hoped for a warmer reception. He sighed, prepping himself for what he had prepared to do.

“Two weeks ago,” he spoke slowly, voice grave, “I was returning from an investigation in the Southern port city, that was where I had been,” he figured he would answer the first question you had asked that day.

“I appreciate your sudden… openness. But I have already been informed of that,” his brow raised at your reply.

“How, if I may ask?” He had explicitly instructed Ichiji to keep everything secret and Haibara would not be one to go spread information pertaining to national security.

“Duke Gojo.” You said plainly, and you noticed the way the king’s jaw visibly tensed.

“Duke Gojo, huh?” he repeated the words, contempt heavy in his voice. “I did not know you two had such a friendly rapport,” he was getting distracted. He knew it but he could not contain the feeling that burned through him. Foreign but distinct. Jealousy. That was a man who knew how to treat a woman. He had even showed interest in you. That was more than enough to put the king on edge.

You did not reply to the words, seeing them as provocatory. Instead your silence requested the king to go on. To get to the point of this meeting. Why was he telling you this now? Did he feel bad? That did not matter, because his words now did not change what he had said and done. You waited for a few more moments in the tense silence but eventually sighed, standing up.

“If that is all, I will retire to my quarters now,” you turned away, but he stood faster than you could even register, and his hand closed around your wrist.

"Wait—just... wait." His voice was low, almost pleading, as he drew closer, your breaths mingling in the charged space between you. His hand lingered on your arm, pulling you near enough that your chest nearly brushed his. Your breath hitched, and pulse quickened, breaking through the mask of indifference you clung to like armor. You loathed the way your body reacted to him. The way your mind secretly rejoiced at the proximity. How long had it been since he had touched you in any way?

"What can I do to fix this?" His words wavered, raw and desperate. "Tell me, Y/N. Name your price. Is it a gift you want? Gold, diamonds... land?" His gaze flickered, searching yours for something he couldn’t name. His breath, warm and steady, ghosted across your cheek.

"Or perhaps..." His tone hardened, a bitter edge creeping in as he narrowed his eyes. "A lover? That fellow Satoru—would he suffice?"

Your gasp sliced through the tension. You tore your arm free from his grasp, retreating a step as fury and hurt flashed in your eyes.

"I did not know His Majesty held me in such low regard," you spoke, voice unsteady. Was this what he thought you were after? Some sort of recompense? "Do you think me so shallow, so vain, that I would be appeased by your trinkets? And a lover?" Your voice cracked, not from weakness but indignation. "I want none of it—least of all him."

A beat of silence passed in the room.

“I apologize,” his eyes met the floor. Part of him knew that you sought none of these things he had offered. But that was all the currency he knew. Kaori had been happy to be lavished with riches. Her romantic pursuits after she gave birth to Yuuji had been enough to put even some of the most audacious flirts to shame. That was the language she had spoken to him. But you were not her.

You are not her. So simple yet so hard to unlearn. You can’t just push her away, Haibara’s words sounded in his mind. All he had been doing was keeping you at arm’s length. And that only brought more turmoil to his own heart. He needed to face the facts. He needed to admit the truth. To himself and to you.

“I do not think of you as such,” his eyes returned to yours, brimming with emotion. You could decipher hesitation, maybe fear, but he pushed on. “In fact, I hold you in much higher regard than even I thought possible.” His hands fell to his side, “Y/N I apologize for the way I have acted. You being in Yuuji’s life. You being in my life has been nothing short of a blessing,” he sighed, “And I let myself be blinded by fear and insecurity and acted in a way unbecoming of a king. I sincerely did not mean to hurt or insult you”

Your lips were drawn into a thin line. There it was, an apology. But was this truly permission to go back to doing things the way they were before? Did you even want to go back to the way things were before?

“Kento,” your voice had calmed down. His first name felt unfamiliar on your tongue, but he looked up at you, almost startled. You stepped closer. “You need to tell me what it is you want from me.” your voice was firm. “If there is a line I am not to cross, please draw it right now. So that I will know to stay behind it.”

He took a deep breath in. Here was his chance, to finally get what he thought he had wanted from the beginning. To have you know that this was all a ploy. To let you know where you stood in his home. As a placeholder queen, a placeholder mother. At least that was what he had intended in the beginning. But you broke through that mold he had created in his mind. The people considered you their queen. His son considered you his mother. And him, what did you mean to him?

He took a hold of your hands. Gentle, this time. Almost afraid you would pull away once more. “I do not know where to draw that line anymore,” his deep voice held raw honesty. “I seem to have lost control entirely.” His thumbs caressed the back of your hand and your heart threatened to jump out of your chest. “How about you draw it this time. Please tell me where to stand.”

Push him away and he would never dare to approach again.

Draw him close, and he would risk losing himself entirely in you.

The ball is in the reader's court. What will she do???

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)

Tag list: @bl3333h @ladygojooo @evans-dejong @flaneur002 @bopsigles

@taeteddybear @tylersaiddonteatbananas @starmapz @lucreied @cosmicbreathe

@abhootghiihii @amisuh @luvstama @tomiokasecretlover @ofcqdesi

@lazypostfandomer

[gavisfanta]

WHY I LOVE YOU - GAVI

summary: you and gavi are parents and its a normal day of driving your kids to school and finding out about your pregnancy...

warnings: none

"Pero papá, no quiero ir a la escuela." Ale cried out and Gavi let his head hang low while he exhaled deeply.

"No whining around, you're gonna be late." Gavi said and Ale threw his head back.

"But I don't wanna go!" He yelled and was on the verge of tears.

"I dont know how your mother does this every morning." Gavi mumbled in a low voice and then looked away for a second. "You know what, fine. But if you stay at home, you wont be going to practice tonight either." Gavi started walking towards the door and Ale immediately jumped up to get dressed.

"Thought so" He whispered and walked downstairs. He saw you standing in the kitchen, facing the stove while making scrambled eggs for the kids and Gavi.

You jumped a bit as his arms wrapped around you from behind and then put his hand on your lower stomach.

"That smells so good." He moaned out as he loosened his arms again and went to the fridge to pour himself a glass on cooled water.

"What time is it?" Ale came running down the stairs, followed by Ana who was still sleepily rubbing her eyes.

"You still have an hour and a half, chill." Gavi mumbled and then went over to the stairs to pick up Ana and spin her around.

She was about to turn 5 but you absolutely loved the way Gavi treats her. He treated her like she was still 2 and thats adorable in your opinion.

"Did my princesa wake up too?" Gavi smiled at his daughter.

"He splashed water over my face." Ana pointed at Ale who smiled while sitting on his chair at the dining table.

"Ale, I told you to stop waking people up with water." Gavi walked over to him and sat down Ana on her seat. Ale on the other hand was about to turn 7. He was more of the wild kid while Ana was calm and collected.

"It was an accident." He crossed his arms and Gavi raised his brows.

"If I throw you into the pool was it an accident too?" Your husband pointed outside in your garden where the huge pool was.

"No, that's mean!" Ana pulled the bottom of gavis shirt and he looked at her while he smiled.

"You're such a good kid." He leaned down to kiss her head before walking back to you into the kitchen. You were currently cutting some tomatoes while the scrambled eggs were already on the plates.

"You need help amor?" He asked but instead of replying, you put a plate between the two of you and nudged your head towards the kids.

"Okay boss" Gavi smiled while putting down the plate infront of Ale and soon you returned with all plates in your hand and put them down infront of each person.

After you were all done with eating Gavi stood up and walked over to you.

"Thanks babe, that was amazing." He kissed your temple and you smiled. "Okay kids, lets carry our empty plates into the kitchen and then brush our teeth." Gavi said and grabbed his plate and yours too. You smiled as he also took their forks out of safety reasons.

You watched all three of them go upstairs and then you went to the kitchen to clean everything up.

"You take this" Gavi told Ale and gave him his electric toothbrush that was made for kids and he sat down on the toilet seat and took Ana's toothbrush.

"Come here amor." He waved her over and she walked to him, she was still half asleep, her eyelids hanging heavily and she barely managed to hold herself on her own feet.

"Open up" Gavi told her and as she did he began brushing her teeth since she somehow still wasn't able to do that on her own.

"Why can't you just brush your own teeth?" Ale asked Ana after he put his toothbrush down on the edge of the sink.

"Did you brush your teeth good?" Gavi asked while he then reached Ana a plastic cup full of water and she then stood on the little staircase infront of the sink to spit out the remaining toothpaste.

"Yes, look!" Ale said and opened his mouth, showing his teeth. Gavi nodded his head while he grabbed a hair brush and then began brushing Ana's soft brown hair.

"What hairstyle do you want to do today?" Gavi asked as he took her hair into his hand.

"Can you make the one mom made yesterday?" Ana asked as she looked at herself in the mirror. Ale sat down on the toilet seat as he watched his dad and sister.

"What did mom do yesterday?" Gavi turned to look at Ale who smiled a bit.

"A braid, you should remember that." As soon as Ale said braid, Gavi made a face.

"I mean I can try but it wont be as pretty as mom's braid okay?" He looked at her through the mirror and she nodded her head.

"Why isn't mom doing it today then?" Ale asked Gavi as he began try to braid her hair. You had taught him once how to and he often tried to braid your hair and he got visibly better at it.

"Because she's tired, her cleaning the kitchen takes less energy then dealing with the two of you." Gavi answered, Ana yawned a bit to which Ale shook his head.

"Is she alright though?" Ale asked and Gavi nodded his head as he smiled. It was heartwarming to him to see that his children actually cared about the wellbeing of their mother.

And after Gavi was done with the braid he looked at it proudly. There were some parts that weren't perfect but he was satisfied.

"It's not that bad is it?" He turned Ana around so that she was facing Ale with her back. His son admired the braid and nodded his head.

"You did a good job dad!" He said loudly and grinned. Gavi brought down his hand a bit to mess up his hair.

"Okay, grab your bags and lets go to school!" He clapped his hands together and went downstairs while the kids ran into their rooms.

"Babe, you need some help?" Gavi yelled as he just walked into the kitchen. He saw you putting the final plate into the dishwasher and close it up. The kitchen looked clean, you turned around to face him and opened up your arms.

"No, I'm done, are you driving them to school?" Gavi hugged you as you asked that.

"Yeah I am, you go back to bed. You look a bit pale." Gavi moved his head back a bit while still standing close to you.

"I will. Thank you for driving them." You said and pulled him back to yourself again. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he held you close.

Just a few seconds later you heard steps coming down the stairs. You opened your eyes and saw Ana smiling at the two of you, her bag in her hands.

"Okay, lets go dad." You patted Gavi's back who immediately raised his head and turned around. He crouched down infront of Ana and took her bag, she turned around and slipped her arms into the straps.

"Where's your brother?" He asked and just then Ale came down the stairs.

"I'm here, bye mom!" Ale just simply waved at you while walking to the door.

"Bye Ale" You smiled at him. Ana on the other hand walked over to you and you crouched down to give her a kiss.

"Bye mom, love you!" Ana smiled while she walked in front of Gavi to the door. However as Gavi looked back at you, he walked back to you real quick to give you a kiss.

"Go back to bed and try to catch some sleep yeah?" Gavi smiled at you and began walking backwards to the door.

"I will, bye!" You waved at him and he left.

"Okay, are you both ready? Last day of the week." Gavi mumbled while sitting into the car and fastening his seatbelt. He looked back at both of the kids sitting in their seats.

"Yes!" Both yelled in excitement and Gavi drove them to school. After he returned home again, he found you in bed, looking at the tv infront of the king sized bed.

Money heist was playing, so as soon as Gavi entered the room you stopped the tv and looked at him walking closer to you.

"How is my love?" He kneeled down next to your side of the bed and pressed a kiss on your lips.

"Can I be honest?" You turned your head to look at him, he nodded his head. "I think I'm pregnant again."

Gavi froze for a couple of seconds, he broke the eye contact and looked down at his hands which were on top of the mattress.

"Did you take a test yet?" Gavi asked while you looked deep into his eyes and shook your head. "Let's take one, come on." He stood up and you pushed the covers down from your body.

Gavi went into the bathroom first and grabbed a pregnancy test from the top of the shelf so nobody was able to see it. You kept two up there at all times incase anybody or you needed it.

"Okay, here" Gavi handed you it and you went to sit down on the toilet and Gavi sat down at the edge of the bathtub while looking at you.

You didn't mind him watching you doing whatever, he saw you from all angles already so there wasn't much to hide.

He smiled at you as you finished taking the test and put it down onto the counter so that the upside was facing the counter.

"What are you all smiley for?" You asked and walked over to Gavi to hug him. one of the things your friends noticed was that you two were still very affectionate with eachother. Some people grew apart after they had kids and you two didnt at all.

"It'd be so nice to have a third kid." Gavi mumbled and kissed your forehead. Gavi and you have talked about having more children previously. You both agreed that three was the max number of children.

"It would be amazing. I'm just not as excited for the actual giving birth part but whatever." You joked and Gavi chuckled.

"I braided Ana's hair today, did you see it?" He changed the topic to distract you from the test.

"No I didn't." You gasped and covered your mouth. He shook his head and parted his lips into a thin line.

"I did such a good job, also, I need to leave for practice at 11. So you'll have to pick up the kids." Gavi informed you ro which you only gave him a nod.

After enough time had passed which contained the two of you just chatting, you looked at the pregnancy test infront of you.

"I can't do it, you do it." You tokd Gavi and took a step aside, he took the pregnancy test between his fingers and then turned ut around slowly.

Pregnant.

"Oh my god, I'm pregnant." You jumped into Gavi's arms while you smiled widely.

"You're pregnant." Gavi repeats while a big smile covers his own lips. After he loosened his grip around you, he immediately grabbed your face and kissed a long and passionate kiss on your lips.

"Oh my god, we need to go and shop for the baby. Do you think it will be a boy or a girl? I'm hoping for a boy because then-" You talked way too fast, before you could continue Gavi crushed his lips into yours again.

"I'm so excited." He stated after the kiss. Gavi was so happy that he was gonna be a father of three. You and him had planned having three children even before Ale was born. Even tho you didn't try to get pregnant right now, it happened at that was so beautiful about it.

Things happen and sometimes they're the best things to ever happen.

[wholoveseggs]

~♡~Dating the Mikaelsons~♡~

One-Shot Edition

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

♡A date with Kol♡

You are drowning your sorrows at the bar, but Kol has an idea on how to cheer you up...

In celebration of getting to one-hundred followers♡ I wrote some smutty one-shots based on my dating the mikaelsons headcanons.

♡ Thanks for all the love and support ♡ Warnings: smut, drinking, riding, face sitting...Kol saying darling a lot... {Part One -Klaus} ♡ {Part Three - Marcel} ♡ {Part Four - Elijah}

Leaning against the bar, the neon lights flickering around you, you let out a big sigh. The bitter taste of your drink matched the bitterness in your heart.

You had been stood up, and usually, these situations wouldn't get to you, but tonight felt different. You had invested time in those back-and-forth messages, letting your walls down and you actually believed he would be different. The worst part was that he had suggested meeting at the club, only to not show up.

As you drowned your sorrows in the dimly lit ambiance, a voice cut through the thumping music. "Looks like you could use some company," he said, a wild glint in his eyes as he slid onto the barstool next to you.

He signaled the bartender and ordered another drink for you. "On me," he added with a charming grin. The scent of his cologne and the warmth of his presence filled the air, momentarily diverting your thoughts.

"So, what's got you looking so troubled?" he inquired, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "A pretty little thing like you should be enjoying the night."

You gave him a sweet smile, his charm melting the ice around your heart. "Just a case of being stood up, no big deal," you replied, giving him a casual shrug.

He chuckled, the sound resonating in the lively atmosphere. "Well, anyone who stands up someone as captivating as you must be blind or daft." The drink he ordered arrived, and he slid it over to you. "To lift your spirits."

Taking a sip, you felt a warmth spreading through you, not just from the alcohol but from the unexpected camaraderie. The neon lights played on his features, casting intriguing shadows as he leaned in, an amused gleam in his eyes.

"Tell me about this fellow who dared to stand you up," he prompted.

"He's not worth the effort," you chuckled, reaching your hand out to him. "Thanks for the drink?" you questioned.

"Kol, darling, and you're quite welcome," he replied with a smirk, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips. The feel of his warm, soft lips made a shiver run down your spine, and he smirked, knowing the effect he had on you.

"So, what has this scoundrel done to deserve such ire?"

"You really want to know?" you questioned, and his eyes crinkled in amusement.

"I would not have asked otherwise."

The drinks kept flowing and you found yourself divulging all the sordid details. To his credit, he listened intently, only interjecting a comment here and there.

By the time you had finished recounting your tale, you were both laughing and enjoying each other's company. 

"Well his loss is my gain," he remarked, flashing you a smile that made your heart skip a beat. "Would you care to dance?"

Graciously accepting his hand, he led you to the dance floor, the music pulsing through the air. With his hands on your hips and yours around his neck, the two of you swayed to the beat, the heat rising between you.

Your body was pressed against his, and as the music flowed, his gaze drifted from your eyes to your lips. Leaning down, his mouth claimed yours in a searing kiss, making your head spin. Your tongues danced together as your hands tangled in his hair.

Breaking the kiss, he gazed down at you with lust-filled eyes. "Want to get out of here?" he purred, his voice sending a wave of anticipation through you. Nodding your head, you let him lead the way.

Walking hand in hand, the two of you headed out of the club, the cool air refreshing after the heat of the dance floor. The streets were quiet, the streetlamps casting a warm glow, and the world was your own as you headed towards your apartment. You both were a little drunk, swaying into each other and giggling like teenagers as you stumbled down the street. 

You fumbled the key in the lock before opening the door to your apartment, you made your way inside, kicking off your shoes as he removed his jacket, closing the door behind him.  You walked to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses of water and offering one to him. 

"Thank you, darling," he murmured, taking a sip of water, his eyes never leaving yours. He set his glass down and moved towards you, his fingers running along your jawline before cradling your face and bringing your lips to his in a hungry kiss.

Your hands instinctively reached up, roaming his body, tracing his well-defined muscles and pulling him closer. He gripped your waist and picked you up with ease, placing you on the counter. His hands ran up your thighs, his fingertips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He kissed down your neck, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

"I always found dating apps a bit useless to be honest," he teased, his voice husky and low.

"Why's that?" you breathed, your hands tangling in his hair as his teeth grazed your collarbone.

"Well, it seems much more efficient to just go to the source," he drawled, his eyes darkening as his lips brushed your ear.

Your hands traced the muscles of his arms, tugging on the fabric of his shirt. "Is that so?" you whispered, as his lips ghosted over your  jawline.

"Mmhmm," he murmured, his mouth capturing yours again. Your lips melded together, the intensity growing.

"Tell me, darling," he panted, breaking the kiss and gazing at you with an intense hunger. "Did you imagine your night going like this when you decided to swipe right?"

You laughed, your chest rising and falling with every breath. "Not exactly, but I'm not complaining," you quipped, earning a smirk from him.

Your hands roamed over his toned chest and abs, the heat pooling in your core. You pulled his shirt off, your hands exploring his smooth skin, admiring his defined muscles.

His fingers trailed along the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it over your head, and tossing it aside. His gaze drank in the sight of you, his tongue running along his lips.

"Fuck, darling, you are stunning," he purred, his hands sliding under your skirt, pushing it up as his fingers teased your skin.

You giggled, the alcohol making your cheeks flush more than usual. "Such a charmer."

"It's easy when it's the truth," he grinned, his mouth claiming yours again.

He pulled you to him, your legs wrapping around his waist, and he carried you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, his eyes hungrily taking in the sight of you.

"Now, let's see how long we can keep that smile on your face," he mused, his accent thick with lust.

He made quick work of the rest of your clothes, leaving you bare beneath him. He leaned over you, his hands exploring your body, leaving no inch untouched.

He began to trail kisses downwards, his mouth reaching your core, and he began lapping at your clit, moving his tongue in slow circles. He let out a gentle hum as he tasted you, his hands gripping your thighs and pulling you closer to him.

Your hands tangled in his hair as his mouth devoured you, your moans filling the air. He pulled back, wiping his chin on your thigh, looking up at you with a smirk.

"I have a request," he drawled, his eyes shining. 

"And I promise I will make it worth your while."

You quirked an eyebrow at him. "And what might that be?"

He grinned, his lips curling upwards, his gaze dark and seductive. He moved up your body, his mouth brushing against your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin.

"Let me show you," he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

Your curiosity was piqued, and you nodded, giving him the green light. He deftly flipped the both of you around, so you were on top of him.

"Sit on my face, darling," he rasped, the words sending a wave of heat through your body.

You blushed, the request making your pulse quicken. You straddled his face, your knees on either side of his head, his strong hands gripping your thighs.

His tongue darted out, tasting you, and a moan escaped your lips as his tongue explored you. He roughly pulled you closer, the sudden movement taking you by surprise. You let out a surprise gasp as his tongue found your clit, the feeling driving you wild.

"Oh," you moaned, your hands gripping the headboard as his tongue swirled. Your thighs began to tremble, the pressure building, his touch making your head spin.

He let out a muffled chuckle, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body. His tongue delved deeper, tasting you, his eyes closed in ecstasy. You ground against his mouth, his stubble grazing your sensitive skin.

His fingers dug into your thighs, leaving marks on your flesh as he held you in place, his mouth ravaging you. Your hips rolled against his tongue, your moans filling the room.

Your head tilted back, your body writhing as the pleasure washed over you. Your thighs tightened around his head, your fingers gripping the headboard as you let out a low moan, the sound reverberating throughout the room.

You rode out the waves of pleasure, your legs trembling. You gasped for breath, the feeling overwhelming. You released the headboard, your hands running through his hair as his tongue lapped up the last traces of your orgasm.

"Fucking hell, Kol," you panted, the words coming out in a rush. You moved down his body, pressing your lips against his, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue.

He gave you a wicked grin, his eyes dark and hooded. "I told you I would make it worth your while," he murmured, his fingers trailing up and down your back.

You peppered kisses along his jawline, your teeth grazing his skin. He let out a soft groan, his grip tightening on your hips. You moved further down his body, planting kisses along his skin, stopping at his abs.

You reached his hips, his erection straining against his jeans. You unbuttoned them and slowly pulled the zipper down, his eyes locked on yours.

You pulled his jeans and boxers down, his erection springing free. You took him in your mouth, his head tilting back in pleasure. You swirled your tongue around the tip before lightly sucking, making him moan. You pulled off of him, a thin string of saliva connecting you. You moved back up his body, straddling his hips, looking down at him with a smile.

"I like it when a woman takes charge," he purred, a devilish glint in his eyes. He moved back a bit to sit against the headboard, and you moved with him, taking his cock in your hand and slowly stroking him. As you circled your thumb around his tip, he threw his head back and groaned, then thrusted his hips, seeking more. You gave him a sexy smile as you positioned his cock at your dripping entrance and lowered yourself onto him. His eyes screwed shut, and he exhaled deeply, relishing the feeling of being inside you.

Fully seated on him, you began to grind your hips in circles, letting out soft moans as your clit rubbed against his pelvis. You steadied yourself on his shoulders and slowly started riding his cock, his hands gripping your hips and helping to guide your movements. You smiled as you watched his face twist in pleasure, his lips forming a small o. The feeling of him inside you was divine, hitting just the right spot. The sounds of your moans and his soft curses echoed off the walls as you picked up the pace.

"You like that?" you breathed, smirking, as his eyes met yours, lust clouding his expression. He merely nodded, his lips parted, before biting his lower lip, throwing his head back against the headboard again.

"Do you want me to go faster?" you teased, changing your pace and moving your hips in a torturously slow motion, causing him to growl in frustration. He dug his nails into your hips, his chest heaving.

"Darling,.." he pleaded, his voice breaking. You could feel him throbbing and twitching inside you, desperate to go harder. Grinning, you increased the pace of your movements, causing him to moan in both relief and pleasure.

"Yes, like that... just like that...," he mumbled, his mind clouding with ecstasy. You repositioned your legs and began to bounce up and down on his cock, throwing your head back in bliss. The sounds that escaped him were animalistic as his fingernails raked across your hips, surely leaving marks. This only spurred you on as you increased the pace even more—the sound of your skin slapping against his every time you slid down on him, the feeling of him stretching you driving you wild.

You began to pant, your legs getting sore, but you were determined to give it all you had. His cock was hot and heavy inside you, hitting all the right places. You were close, and you could feel the familiar tightening within you and you closed your eyes. 

"Fuck," you moaned, your movements faltering as your sore legs struggled to keep the pace. Suddenly you felt the sharp sting of a slap on your ass, your eyes shot open as you looked down at Kol.

"Darling, are you getting tired already?" he teased, a look of pure lust in his eyes. You whimpered as your legs shook, struggling to remain upright. His hand came down again, the stinging making you cry out.

"Fuuuck," you breathed.

"Ride my cock for me. I want to see your tits bouncing," he purred, squeezing your hips and guiding your movements, allowing you to focus on pleasing him. Soon you fell back into a good rhythm, riding his cock and pressing your hands into his chest. He let out a satisfied groan, the heat building within you.

You dug your nails into his skin and rode him as hard as you could. He slammed his hips up to meet yours, driving himself deeper inside you, his moans and growls becoming more frantic. Your legs ached, and you felt like you were about to collapse, "Kol, I can't..."

"Come on, you're doing so well." He replied, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. Your head fell against his shoulder, and he nuzzled your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin.

You felt yourself tighten around him, your climax swiftly approaching. His mouth found yours, swallowing your moans as your orgasm crashed through you, and you cried out, his name tumbling from your lips. You were trembling, your pace slowing as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

Once you had caught your breath, you lifted your head, looking down at him with a blissed out expression. He smirked, a hunger in his gaze. "We're not finished," he whispered as he gripped your ass. You laughed, the sound cut short with a sharp inhale, as his hand came down hard on your backside.

The sting caused your breath to hitch as you peered down at him, "I thought you liked a woman in charge?" you mused.

He gave a throaty chuckle before grabbing your arms, gently pinning them behind your back. "All due respect, darling, but we're doing it my way now," he rasped, his lips brushing against your own. You melted against his mouth, unable to refuse. A sharp gasp escaped you as he began to thrust upwards, a surprised look crossing your features at his sheer strength.

He moved so effortlessly, as if his stamina were boundless. You realized just how much he had been holding back and a chuckle rose from your throat, which swiftly turned into a series of moans. He yanked gently on your arms, causing your back to arch, then buried his face into your breasts. You squeezed your thighs as you felt his lips suckling on your nipple, each grazing of his teeth heightened by his relentless thrusts.

Your sweat-covered bodies moved together perfectly, and as the noises escaping your lips became more intense, his thrusts sped up to match the urgency. He continued to use your body however he saw fit, his mouth roaming every inch he could reach as he repeatedly impaled you on his cock, his pace leaving you breathless.

Another feeling of bliss spread throughout your body as his cock hit your sweet spot repeatedly, driving you mad, making you a whimpering mess. His grunts became louder with each thrust, one hand firmly holding your arms, the other gripping your ass lifting you and bringing you back down on his cock. 

"I need you to cum again, darling," he ordered, his voice raspy as his dark eyes gazed up at you. 

Your back arched, your whole body trembling and trying to break free from his grasp. But he simply chuckled, maintaining the ferocious pace of his thrusting, which caused your eyes to roll back in your head as another wave of pleasure racked your body, your orgasm intensified by his unwavering hold and the way you were stretched open.

A guttural grunt escaped him, followed by a string of expletives, his final few thrusts almost lifting the two of you from the bed. His back arched, pushing his cock deeper than you thought possible, a loud moan echoing out from your lips as he filled you.

He let go of your arms, and they dropped uselessly by your sides, limp and unable to move. He began kissing along your shoulder, your neck, and collarbone, whispering to you as his hands moved gently up and down your spine. You leaned into him, closing your eyes and melting into his touch.

He was a vision in the dim glow from the city outside, the light catching on his sharp cheekbones and the contours of his muscles. He cradled you in his arms, his body warm and comforting against your own as your breathing slowed.

"Thank you, for saving me from a dreadfully lonely evening," you whispered.

He kissed your cheek and tilted your head up to look at him, his hair falling in his eyes. You brushed the hair away from his face and kissed him softly.

He rolled the two of you over, his weight pressing against you. He looked down at you, his eyes shining in the dim light, his thumb stroking your cheek.  

"That man that stood you up? Idiot." he remarked, giving you a wide smile. 

You laughed. "Absolutely."

{Part One -Klaus} ♡ {Part Three - Marcel} ♡ {Part Four - Elijah}

shout-out to @perseephoneee for requesting some Kol ♡ I hope you like it!

[ladykailitha]

Sweet Home Indiana Part 2

Hello! My elbow was doing better this morning and then I took a nap and hurt it again somehow...(head desk) so I'm still putting out my backlog without being able to build up more because of it, hopefully it gets better before I run out of backlog because that would be embarrassing.

Here we get some backstory as Eddie strolls back into Steve's life.

Pt 1

****

When Robin came into open the store she found Steve wearing the clothes he had been wearing the night before. None of the bread dough was rising, none of the cookies were baking having not even been made, the cakes were out on the cooling racks instead in the freezer to chill enough to have frosting put on them.

He was curled up next to their large stand mixer dubbed the Beast, cradling his sides like he was trying to hold in his innards.

“Steve...” she called out gently.

Steve looked up at her and her heart broke. His eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks tear-stained and blotchy. Snot ran down his nose and pooled on his upper lip.

She sighed and then turned around. She hunted around for a marker and a piece of paper. She wrote that they were closed for the day and hung it up outside the front door. She locked it behind her and went to go sit down next her best friend.

Steve laid his head on her shoulder and sighed.

“Eddie’s getting married.”

Robin had to force herself from jerking her head around to look at him because he needed her support more than he needed her ire in that moment.

“Who do I have to kill?” she muttered darkly, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair soothingly.

Steve barked out a bitter laugh. “She’s this hot shot legal assistant from Barbados. Like I didn’t even know that was a country until I looked it up. It’s in the Caribbean. Did you know that?”

“I did.”

Robin blinked for a minute. “Wait...she?”

Steve just shrugged. “People change, Robs. Don’t make it a thing.”

She bit her lip and worried it between her teeth. Because fucking hell she wanted to make a big deal out of it. Someone should make a big deal out of it.

“Nancy’s back in town visiting her family,” she said instead. “Holly’s graduating next week.”

Steve threw his arms in the air. “Great! I’m being invaded by my ex. Just put me out of my misery now, Robs. I don’t think I can take it.”

Robin smacked his arms. “No. There will be no killing of the Steve. If anyone wants to make it your problem, then they’re going to have a problem with me, got it?”

“Thanks, Robbie,” he murmured, running his fingers through his hair. “Like the way he went about it was such complete shit. Like how dare he think that a simple annulment is going to get him off abandoning me for fame and fortune and then not coming back when it fell through?”

Robin’s head did whip around that time. “He fucking did what?”

Steve sighed and waved at the papers in the trash. She got up and picked them up. She read through them with increasing ire. Her hands started to shake and her face burned with indignation.

“Screw killing her,” she hissed. “I’m going to kill him. Just as soon as I find his scrawny ass. How dare he?”

He huffed out a bitter laugh. “I hunted down his number and called him out on it. I told him if he was so desperate to be free of me he had to tell me to my face.”

“So what you’re telling me...” Robin said slowly, “is that your not just being invaded by one ex, but most likely two exes. And like your two biggest heartbreaks ever?”

Steve got to his feet and lopped over to her. “That about sums it up, yeah. I know you closed the store, but I still have to make Mrs. Laurence’s cake. She’s supposed to pick it up at 3pm.”

She patted him on the shoulder and tossed away the papers. “Let’s make this cake. We can’t disappoint Mrs. Laurence.”

Steve and Robin went through and tossed everything that couldn’t be salvaged. Steve pulled the two chocolate sheet cakes out of the freezer and set them on the decorating table. He went into the walk-in freezer and got out the two large tubs of frosting; one chocolate buttercream and the other vanilla buttercream.

Robin pulled out the food dyes and began mixing the colors they would need for the cake. Steve went and grabbed one final thing from the fridge before closing the door. A raspberry filling.

He got to work starting with a crumb coating and then took the purple colored frosting from Robin and began covering the whole cake. Once it was completely covered he started adding design elements and darker purple flowers.

Then he passed it over to Robin who wrote “Happy 50th Anniversary” on the top.

All in all it had taken about an hour. Then he called up Mrs. Laurence and told her that Robin would be delivering the cake today because the shop was closed. He didn’t explain why and she didn’t ask. Mostly she was just grateful that it was going to be delivered.

Then Steve got to work preparing for tomorrow. Things like cookies and pastries that could stay in the fridge over night were made first. Then he started on the thing he was most famous for: his brownies.

He had four kinds, a triple chocolate that was dark chocolate brownie with milk chocolate frosting and chunks. The second one was a peanut butter marble with fudge drizzled over it and topped with chopped peanuts. The third was a cheesecake and caramel that was super popular with the high school kids. But the most famous, the one every raved about was the mint brownie. It had mint in the brownie itself, mint frosting, and fudge and crumbled brownie bits covering the top.

The Monster as it was fondly called by Steve’s customers could turn even the most fervent of mint haters over to the dark side, it was that good.

Finally everything was ready for tomorrow.

When Robin came back from delivering the cake, she sat down at the decorating table and leaned on her elbows, clasping her hands together.

“When are you going to get some people into help you?” she asked gently. “You know I won’t be here forever and you can’t keep doing it on your own.”

Steve who had just finished cleaning everything up looked up at her with his big puppy dog eyes. “You’re going to leave me?” he asked with a pout.

She slapped at his arm. “You know that I’m heading to college in the fall, just as soon as I pick which one I’m going to. You’ll have all summer to train a couple of people to take my place.”

He sighed. “I know. I’ll think about it after I deal with my exes this week.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I also get to interview these new peeps and make sure they’re good enough.”

“Deal!” he said and they shook hands.

****

Because they were closed the day before Steve had a line of customers lining up on the sidewalk when he turned the closed sign to read “OPEN”.

Robin and he got to work helping all the customers.

It was fine up until Mrs. O’Donnell came in absolutely bitching about how she always gets her bread on Wednesdays and he knows that he should have been open for her. Especially since Mrs. Laurence got her cake, so Steve should have been able to open for her to get her bread.

She had completely bottlenecked the whole line. Robin was working as hard as she could to keep up with demand on her side of the counter, but Steve could see she was starting to falter.

“Enough!” Steve barked and the whole shop went silent. “I had a personal matter come up that couldn’t have been avoided and Mrs. Laurence had paid for her cake well in advance which is why she still got it. And unless you don’t want to get your precious bread ever again, because I have banned you, then you better stop harassing me, get your damn bread, and get the fuck out of my store.”

Mrs. O’Donnell let out a small “eep!” before paying for her bread and leaving quickly. There was a small amount of clapping and Steve grinned.

“Next, please,” he said and the next customer came up.

Things went smoother after that.

Two hours later, the rush had ended and Robin and Steve worked on restocking the shelves.

“You always were a bitch, Steve,” a voice said from the corner on the shop were there were a couple of tables people could use to eat their tasty delights. “But watching you take down that bitch O’Donnell was like poetry in motion.”

Steve stiffened, hands clenching on the tray of brownies he was carrying. He slowly turned around and sure enough in all his black clothes, leather jacket, and many chained glory was Eddie Munson.

He gritted his teeth and slid the tray home in the display case. He pulled the towel off his shoulder and wiped off his hands. “Nice to see you finally got tired of running.”

Eddie got to his feet and moved to step toward the counter when a little bell went off announcing a customer.

In walked this soft round woman with a bright smile. She didn’t even notice Eddie standing there, she just walked right up to Steve.

“Mrs. Laurence!” Steve greeted warmly. “How was the cake yesterday?”

Mrs. Laurence smiled. “It was lovely as always, dear. Nothing but rave reviews from all.”

He smiled at her fondly. “I’m glad. So what can I get you today?”

She tapped her finger on her lips as scanned over the case. “I’ll take a half dozen raspberry truffles and a monster please.”

Steve’s smile turned into a grin. “You’re just in time, I just finished a fresh batch of monsters just before you came in.”

“Lucky me indeed,” she said with a giggle. “They are so much better fresh. Not like your peanut butter ones. They taste better after a day or two to really set the peanut butter.”

Steve laughed as he packed her order. “I always feel like the opposite, give the brownie bites on top time to get chewy and they’re...” he did the chef’s kiss. “But I like how gooey the fresh peanut butter ones are fresh out of the oven.”

Mrs. Laurence laughed too. “Agree to disagree, dear.” She paid and turned around.

“Oh my goodness!” she huffed. “I didn’t even see you there, you must think me rude just jumping the line like that.”

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t think you’ve got a rude bone in your body. Jeffy takes after you that way.”

She tilted her head. “Eddie?”

Eddie nodded mutely, lips pressed into a grim line. She swept him up in a hug.

“My Jeff didn’t say anything about you coming to town,” she admonished her youngest child.

Eddie just shook his head. “It was a last minute decision. Just something I have to take care of.”

She looked back at Steve who had his head tucked to his chin and then back to him. She nodded sagely. “I see. Do take care of yourself, Eddie.”

She wave back at Steve. “Bye, dear. Thank you so much again for the cake yesterday.”

“Of course, Mrs. Laurence, you have a good day,” Steve said softly.

Eddie finally made it to the counter.

“I forget she’s Jeff’s mom,” Steve muttered as he wiped down an already clean counter.

Eddie cleared his throat. “Yeah. Like I forgot he was in town for his parent’s wedding anniversary. I guess time does that to you.”

Steve nodded. “So you’re actually here.”

“So I’m actually here,” he agreed. “But first I want to know what the fuck a monster is?”

Steve’s eyes misted as he pulled out a brownie from the case and set it on a piece of parchment paper.

“It’s called that because it’s big, green, and ugly, but soft and sweet,” he explained like he was reading from a script, refusing to look up at Eddie, “just like the Frankenstein monster from that super old horror movie.”

Eddie looked down at the so-called monstrosity with a wave of affection for the man in front of him. That wasn’t why it was named the monster. The reason it was called that was because that’s what the towns people were calling him before he left for fortune and fame, because he played D&D, like metal music, and was an out and proud gay man. That and the fact that they thought he had killed a bunch of kids with a batch of bad blow.

Which had been bullshit. Considering he had never sold meth or cocaine and didn’t have any on him. So when they tested his hair, his clothes, his uncle’s trailer and couldn’t even find so much a speck of the stuff, let alone the stuff that killed the kids, they let him go.

As far as Eddie was aware they still don’t know who sold them the drugs.

So yeah, Steve made him the brownie when he was at his lowest to tell him how soft and sweet he was despite being called a monster.

Eddie opened his wallet and got out the cash for the brownie and handed it to Steve.

Steve went through the motions of getting him his change. Which Eddie immediately put in their little tip jar.

Steve boxed up the brownie and handed Eddie the box.

Eddie pulled out an envelope out of his messenger bag and handed it to Steve.

Steve sighed and pulled them out. He began to look over them over and had a pen in hand, when he looked up to see Eddie moaning around the brownie.

He clicked the pen and shoved it back in his apron. “I better have my lawyer look over this, after all I’m just dumb, right Eddie?”

Eddie’s eyes widen and he choked down the bite of the brownie. Flashing back to their last major fight.

“God!” he screamed. “How can you be this stupid? Those kids are in high school now, they have their own parents, for fuck’s sake. Where is your ambition? This is just bullshit. You aren’t chained here for fuck’s sake.”

Steve’s face shuttered and the mask he only pulled out when his parents were around dropped over his features. Bland, clueless, and absolutely frightening in its uncanny valley.

That’s when Eddie knew he’d fucked up bad. He had said the three things he swore in his wedding vows he’d never say to Steve. That he had no ambition, that he was stupid, and that he was bullshit.

He turned on his heel and never looked back.

Steve smirked as if he knew what was flashing through his mind and walked away, leaving Eddie standing there with hand near his mouth, the expression of shock still on his frozen features.

****

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Tag List:

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

2- @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

3- @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

4- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

5- @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

6- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

7- @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

8- @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @blackpanzy

9- @amazing-spiderkeys @oldpinghai @raisedbylibrarians @kultiras @swimmingbirdrunningrock

10- @steddie-as-they-go @captain--low @micheledawn1975