#god.. I almost wish I never stared thinking about this. life is hard enough already

[supernaturalgirl20]

Happy Joel!!! Post apocalyptic happy Joel that’s what I wish to see!!! Happy horny Joel with major breeding kink because Ellie is already grown up and he need to take care of somebody and Jackson is safe enough for family. Imagine this big hands holding little babe

Aww yes nonnie, loved this request so much. Joel getting to have a family again is everything. Hope you enjoy 😉

Maybe Now

Pairings: Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, PinV sex, breeding kink, mentions of loss, sadness, talks about life before, mentions of pregnancy, giving birth, breastfeeding, soft Joel, small glimpses into Joel’s life with his new family.

A/N: still have two Joel requests I’m working on, hoping to have them out this week. My requests are only open at the minute for Joel, but I will be opening them up across the board very soon 🥰

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

Music played in the background as you stirred the sauce for the chicken, hips swaying to the beat as you hummed along to the song. 

“Oh,” you gasp as a pair of arms wrap around you from behind. 

“Somethin’ smells good, darlin’.” He breathes in the aroma as he rests his head on your shoulder. 

“Just a new recipe I’m trying out. How was the patrol today?” Joel’s arms tighten around you, and you can feel him hard against your ass. 

“Was ok. Nothin’ to excitin’. Missed you though.” His lips begin to leave a trail of kisses along the skin of your neck and shoulder. 

“Oh yeah?” You tease as you switch off the stove and turn in his arms. He nods, eyes taking in the curve of your lips before meeting your gaze.

“God, you’re beautiful, baby.” His voice is low, almost a whisper but the deep timber of his voice set the spark of arousal alight. 

His lips crash hungrily onto yours and you moan as he slips his tongue inside your mouth. What’s gotten into him tonight? You think to yourself as his hands move to cup your ass. 

“Need you, darlin’,” he mumbles into your skin, and you shiver. 

“What about dinner?” You ask, a strangled moan passing your lips as he pulls the top of your dress down, exposing your breasts to the cool air. 

His teeth nip at the pebbled peak of your nipple, and he groans into your skin as you run your fingers through his hair. “Can’t wait, darlin’, I can’t.”

His tongue licks around your nipple before he sucks it into his mouth. “Oh, Joel. Oh god…fuck…yes, dinner can wait. Take me to bed.” 

He pulls back with a devilish smile on his face, pupils blown wide with lust. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

His hands grip the back of your thighs and with a squeal, you're lifted into his arms. “Joel, what are you doing? Put me down, your back.”

“Trust me darlin’, ain’t nothin’ ever gonna stop me from havin’ my way' with you.” 

He carries you towards the bedroom, kicking open the door he gently lowers you, his mouth devouring you as he walks you back towards the bed. 

“Take it off,” he commands as he stands staring at you through lust-hooded eyes. The authority in his voice has you quivering with need. 

You lift the dress over your head and let it fall to the floor with a soft thud. He growls as he takes in the sight of you naked. “Fuck darlin’ you been walkin’ around all day with nothin’ on under that dress?”

“Hmm, Hmm. Wanted to be ready for when you got home,” you say softly before biting your bottom lip. His eyes rake over your curves as he starts to strip.

“You gonna take what’s yours Miller or do I have to go find someone else?” You tease and before you can go anywhere, he grabs your ass and lowers you onto the bed. 

“You’re mine. Ain’t no one else allowed to touch what’s mine, ya hear?” He growls, hand gripping your face before he lowers his lips to yours. 

“Gonna show you whose pussy this is, case you forgot while I was gone.” He grabs his cock in his hand and runs the tip along your slick, coating himself in your arousal before he notches the head at your entrance and thrusts in. 

God, you loved when he got like this. Possessive. Feral. It was also the only time he truly let his guard down. 

“Fuck, darlin’. You’re so wet…so tight. Always so tight.” He rolls his hips into you sheathing himself completely within the heat of your walls. You’ve never felt so full. 

He rocks himself into you over and over, his mouth swallowing your soft whimpers as he kisses you passionately. Your joint moans fill the space around you as he works you towards your climax. 

You can feel yourself teetering along the edge and just as you’re about to fall he pulls out causing you to groan in protest. “Joel what….”

He lays himself back on the bed and grabs you so you’re straddling him. “Wanna be able to see you, darlin’. Want you to ride me.” He stares up at you, eyes blown wide with lust, and he watches as you slowly sink onto him. 

He groans, head pushing back into the pillow as he grips your hips. “Never gonna get used to the size of you, Joel. Fuck.”

“Need you to move now, darlin’.” His voice is husky with need and when you move your hips above him, he groans loudly, eyes closing as he feels you slide up and down his cock. 

“That’s it darlin’…just… just like that. So beautiful like this…. takin’ me so well.” Your head falls back as you come around him, a breathy moan passing your plush lips.

“Fuck…I can feel you coming baby…squeezing me so damn tight.” He groans as he starts to thrust upward meeting your movements and you can feel yourself coming again. 

“Oh god, Joel…. I’m…fuck I’m gonna come….” you cry as you flutter around him again. His fingers dig into your hips as he grunts loudly. “God damn, darlin’. You’re so pretty when you come. Gonna look even prettier, round and swollen with my baby.”

Baby?! 

“Joel what are you…” He sits up, wrapping his arms around you, holding you tight as he fucks up into you. 

“Ya heard me, darlin’. Now you need to hush and let fuck you full of me, ya hear. Wanna have you nice and round with my baby.” His breathing was becoming laboured as he neared his release. You came again with a flutter of your cunt at his words, and it sends him over the edge. 

His head rests on your breast as he calms his racing heart. Your mind is racing from what just happened. He came inside you. Something he never does. “Did you mean it?” You ask nervously, hoping that he hadn’t just said it in the heat of the moment.

 Running your fingers through his hair, he hums, a contented sigh falling from his lips. He pulls back a little so he can look at you. “Meant every word, darlin’. I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot lately. I mean we’re safe here in Jackson. We got family, friends who would help us with the baby.” 

He kisses the edge of your mouth. Once. Twice. 

“I never thought in a million years I’d want this. Not after Sarah. Not with the way the world is but then I found Ellie, found you and now it’s all I want. I want nothin’ more in this fucked up world than to have a family with you.” His fingers caress your cheeks as he stares intently into your eyes. 

A single tear falls down your cheek and you give him a watery smile. “Are you sure?”

“Never been surer about anything, baby. So, what'd ya say?” His eyes flicker between your own and when you nod at him, he pulls you into a heated kiss.  

“Best eat that dinner now because I ain’t lettin’ you leave this bed until I’m sure I’ve fucked a baby into you.”

***

Joel was a man of his word. 

He had kept you in that bed for days before he went out on patrol again. Making sure he had you full of him. 

And sure enough, a month later you had missed a period. Something that never happened. You didn’t even notice at first until you began to feel nauseous all the damn time. 

Maria had laughed when you heaved at the smell of her cooking. Some fish dinner Tommy loved, and she had jokingly said ‘you’re not pregnant are you’. 

“I think I might be.” 

“Oh, my god. Really? This is amazing. Ok ok…eh, I think there are some pregnancy tests over at the Johnsons. Let’s go.”

She pulled you by the hand and led you to the house across the street where she asked Lauren for two tests. 

“Here. You want me to come with you while you take them?” She asks, looking down at your slightly shaky hands. 

“No. Thanks but if it is positive, I want Joel to be the first to know.” Maria nods in understanding. 

“Ok but then you gotta come find me and let me know.” She stares at you with a pointed look. 

“I promise.”

***

3 minutes.

The longest three minutes of your life. You pace the length of your bedroom as you wait for the result, too caught up in your own head to notice that Joel has come home and is calling for you. 

The door slowly creaking open startles you and you whip your head around to find him looking at you, face full of concern.

“Hey, what’s wrong darlin’?” He asks, voice low as he slowly makes his way to you. His arms slide over your hips to wrap around your back, pulling you close. 

His eyes look down at you and you can make out the concern in them. “I-I uh…. I’m late. And I haven’t been feeling too well lately so I…” You worry your bottom lip and tilt your head towards your bedside locker where the white stick is placed. 

His eyes drift to where you’re looking and when he sees it his gaze flickers back to you quickly. “Are you?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t looked.” 

His fingers move up and down your back in a soothing manner and he smiles down at you. “Let’s look together then. Come on,” he says as he grabs your hand gently in his and leads you to the bed. 

Grabbing the stick he looks at you, his face full of love and adoration and you instantly calm. “Ready?” He asks, eyebrows raised in question. 

“Yeah.” God, you hope it’s positive. You hope it isn’t just some bug or something. Joel looks so happy right now and you don’t even know if you are yet. 

Two pink lines.

Pregnant.

“Does that…. are you?” He gulps nervously as his eyes shift from the stick in his hand to you.

“I’m pregnant. We’re gonna have a baby.” You say with a smile. His eyes instantly light up and you huff out a breath as he pulls you into, both of you falling back on the bed. 

His lips are on you the minute your back hits the mattress and his hand rests on your stomach. “Our baby’s in there.” His voice is almost a whisper but it’s full of pride. His face is a myriad of emotions, and you think you can see tears well in his eyes. 

“Hey,” you say softly as you cup his cheek in your hand. “You, ok?”

His eyes linger on your stomach for a moment before his gaze meets yours. “Yeah…I- it’s just…Sarah would have loved this. She always wanted a brother or sister just…. I just never found the right person.” He chokes in his words as he tries to hold back the tears. 

“She’s still here, Joel. In here,” you say as you point to his heart. He nods. A smile edged its way onto his face. 

“Yeah. She woulda liked you. And Ellie.” He trails off as he stares down at his hand on your stomach and your heart breaks for him. Placing your hand atop his, you squeeze it gently. “And we would have loved her. How about, if this baby is a girl, her middle name can be Sarah. To honour her big sister?”

A watery smile adorns his face as he looks at you and nods. “I’d like that.” His hand rests on your cheek, his thumb rubbing against your bottom lip. “I love you.”

“I love you too. We love you.”

***

Ellie was over the moon when you both told her. Delighted to be becoming a big sister and between herself and Joel, they wouldn’t let you do much. 

The protectiveness has only gotten worse as time goes on and you start to show. You’re five months along and your bump has finally popped, something Joel is very proud of. 

You’ve seen another side of him since becoming pregnant, a softer side and you wonder if this is how he was before the outbreak. 

“Morning baby girl. Hope you slept ok?” His soft voice stirs you from sleep and it takes you a moment to realise he isn’t talking to you. He is talking to your baby.

“Hope you didn’t kick up a storm and keep your mama awake. She needs all the rest so you can grow big and strong. This world is a big scary place, but you don’t gotta worry, because your old man is gonna keep you safe. I’m not gonna fail this time.” His voice cracks a little and you can feel tears building behind your eyes. You want to reach down and comfort him, but you know he needs his time with your baby, so you wait.

“You got so many people here who love you. Me and your mom for one but you also got a big sister who is very special, and she is gonna look out for you no matter what. Then you got your uncle Tommy. He’s an idiot. Don’t tell him I said that. He’s a good man though and he can’t wait to meet you and tell you stories about me and him when we were younger.” He laughs quietly as he rubs his hand over your bump. 

“Hopefully not all of them.” He continues to talk about the community in Jackson and when he trails off you reach down and run your fingers through his hair. He releases a contented sigh and lifts his head. “Morning darlin’. You sleep ok?”

“Hmm, best sleep ever. What are you doing?” His face blushes and his gaze drifts to your bump. “Just havin’ a chat with my baby girl.”

“Mmm, and what if it’s a boy? What then?” You say with a smile. His gaze meets yours again and his smile makes the butterflies in your stomach dance. 

“Nah, it’s a girl. I can tell.” 

***

You weren’t entirely sure when your due date was exactly, but the local doctor had it narrowed down to a certain week. Joel was on patrol for the next two days even though he was supposed to be home. Jason had gotten sick, and they needed an extra hand, so he agreed reluctantly. 

Ellie and Maria had assured him they would look out for you until he got back but you could see the anxiety in his eyes when he left. 

That was three days ago now and you were beginning to get worried that something had happened. Not only that, but you’d started to get pains across your lower back and you were worried you’d go into labour without him here. 

“Hey, you ok? You don’t look so good.” Ellie asks as she walks into the kitchen. You nod your head but then a sharp pain erupts across your stomach, and you bend over with a gasp. Water pools on the floor between your legs. Oh shit. 

“Ok. You’re not ok. Let’s get you into bed and then I’m going to get Maria and doc.” She leads you slowly to your bed, helping you in and propping you up with pillows before she rushes out of the house. 

You pray that Joel comes home soon. He’ll be so annoyed if he misses this. You hope he’s ok. 

“Hey. Ellie tells me you're in pain. Where does it hurt?” Jessica the local doctor asks as she comes to sit on the bed beside you. 

“Along my lower back and across my stomach. It’s been on and off since this morning but it’s getting worse.” You clench your teeth as another pain rips through you. 

“Ok. I’m just gonna have a look and see how everything is, ok?” Jessica helps remove your trousers and underwear and begins to examine you. Maria and Ellie are standing on either side of the bed and you turn to Maria who smiles down at you. 

“Any word? Are they ok?” 

She shares a look with Ellie before smiling down at you. “Hey. They’ll be ok. It’s Joel and Tommy, ain’t nothing gonna happen.”

“I need him here. I can’t do this without him.” Your face scrunches in pain as another pain shoots across your stomach. 

“Ok, so you’re 5cm dilated. You need to be at ten to push. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything for the pain but I’m gonna be here the whole time, ok?”

You nod.

“You need to breathe through the pain. In and out. In and out.” Jessica breathes in deeply to show you and you imitate her. “Good. Hopefully, we’ll have a baby soon.”

Jessica orders Maria and Ellie around, getting them to gather supplies and then you all just wait. 

It gets harder and harder to stay quiet through the pain and eventually your cries of pain echo around the room. 

“Go to the gate and see if they’ve heard anything,” Maria asks Ellie and then she’s gone. You turn to Maria who smiles and holds your hand. “I need him.”

“I know. He’ll be here, I promise.” She hopes. 

***

“Ok Y/N, I’m gonna need you to push now, ok?” Jessica asks and you shake your head. 

“No! No, I can’t. Not without him. I need to wait.” You cry in pain as another contraction spikes. 

“I know but the baby is ready to come now. We can’t wait.” Jessica looks at Maria and gives her a knowing look. 

“Y/N, Jessica is right. The baby is ready to come. You can do it; I know you can. Joel would want you to.”

Suddenly the door opens, and all eyes are on the intruder. Joel. 

“Joel!” You cry as you grip Maria’s hand tight, face scrunching in pain. 

“It’s me, baby. I’m here.” He rushes to your side thanking Maria for being there for you. He leans down and kisses the top of your head. 

“I thought you were dead.” You sob as tears begin to fall down your cheeks. He rubs the top of your head gently, soothingly. 

“I know, baby. But I’m alright. I’m here and I’m ready to meet our baby girl.” He turns to Jessica, “is ok if I get on the bed with her?”

“Sure. It might even help.”

Joel takes off his dirty shoes and removes the pillows from behind you, taking their place. He kisses your cheek and holds your hands in his as he whispers words of encouragement. 

“That’s it, baby. Just a little more. You’re doin’ so well.”

You push and push and push and then the room is filled with the cries of a newborn. “Congratulations you two, a beautiful baby girl.”

Jessica hands your baby to Maria who is cleaning her as she cuts the umbilical cord. “I told you it was gonna be a girl, darlin’,” Joel whispers into the shell of your ear as he kisses your neck. “You did so well, baby. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you.”

“Guys she is gorgeous,” Maria coos as she hands you your daughter. She is the image of Joel with her brown eyes and a mop of dark hair on her little head. 

You cradle her in your arms and Joel holds you both from behind. A strangled sob escapes his lips, and you turn your head to look back at him. “You, ok?”

He goes to speak but his voice cracks. He closes his eyes for a moment before meeting your worried gaze. 

“She’s beautiful. She looks…. she has Sarah’s eyes.” You smile at him before shifting your gaze to her again. 

“I forgot how small they are,” he whispers from behind you. “Thank you, darlin’. You’ve given me everything today. I still feel like I don’t deserve it but I’m so fuckin’ happy.”

“Can I hold her?” Ellie asks from beside you and you nod your head before handing her gently to her. 

“Mind her head,” Joel says, his face serious as he looks at Ellie. “Don’t worry, I got this.” She beams.

Later that night after you’d delivered the afterbirth and got cleaned up. You relax back against Joel in your shared bed, which is now clean thanks to Maria and Ellie.

Your baby girl is suckling at your breast as you gently rub her cheek. Joel holds you both close as he rests his head on your shoulder. “Ellie is gonna call back in the morning and help make breakfast,” he whispers, trying not to disturb the moment. 

You hum. 

“What are we gonna name her?” You ask, gaze focused on your daughter. 

“Whatever you want darlin’.” His hand rests on your daughter's leg, rubbing soothing circles into her skin. 

“How about Olivia Sarah Miller?” You hear him suck in a breath and you turn your head slightly. 

“I love it, darlin’. Sarah she…. she uh…she loved the name, Olivia. Always said if I gave her a sister that’s what she wanted her to be named.” His eyes are glazed over, and a single tear runs down his cheek. 

“Then it’s perfect.” You look down at her once more and smile. “Welcome to the world Olivia.”

***

6 months later…

You wake with a start, hand brushing over to reach your husband only to find the bed empty. Throwing on one of his shirts you make your way next door to check on your daughter but she’s not there either. 

Panic floods you. 

As you make your way downstairs the deep timber of his voice calms your racing heart. Without making a sound, you make your way towards the open door and lean against the frame as you take in the sight of Joel on his rocking chair, Olivia nestled into his side. 

The sight of him with your daughter has your heart racing and the butterflies fluttering within your stomach. Seeing him like this makes you love him even more. 

“I’m gonna build you a swing set right there,” he says as he points to a certain point in the garden.

“Watch you playin’ while me and your momma sit here with our cups of coffee.” You can’t help the snort that passes your lips, and he turns in your direction with a smile on his face.

“Mornin’ darlin’. Sleep ok?” 

“Yeah. When did she wake? I didn’t hear her.” You move off the door frame and walk towards them until you're pulled into Joel’s lap. He leans in and kisses you softly on the lips while your daughter giggles beside you. 

“Wanted to let you sleep, darlin’. You’ve been exhausted.”

“You, Joel Miller, are too good to me.” You say softly before leaning in and kissing him. “Will I take her off you now?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. We’re havin’ a good chat ain’t we baby girl?” Olivia coos at her daddy and your heart melts. 

“Ok, well I’ll go and make us some coffee. Be back in a minute,” you say as you stand, kissing Olivia on the cheek and making your way inside. The sound of Joel’s voice fills your senses, and you smile at his words. 

“I love your momma so much, baby girl. I don’t know what I did to deserve her but I’m so grateful she walked into my life and I ain’t ever letting her go.”

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @athalien @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy @browneyes-issac @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @hungrhay @rosie-posie08 @manuymesut @all-the-way-down-here @iccedays @tusk89 @graciexmarvel @pedrostories @musings-of-a-rose @untitledarea @your-voice-is-mellifluous @majestyjade

[actual-changeling]

today on "excerpts of a fic i will never write": pain and more pain.

-

"Do you love me?"

It comes out as a breathless whisper, half lost against Crowley's lips, and the moment he registers it, he wishes he hadn't heard it at all. His entire body freezes, his palm flattens against the wall while his other grasps the fabric of Aziraphale's shirt so tightly that it almost tears apart at the seams, straining to stay in place.

Three months. Three months, and when Aziraphale knocked on his door, entering without permission as soon as he opened it, the idea of having to listen to his entire sorry speech again had been harder to bear than giving in, shoving him against the wall right there in the hallway, and kissing him.

Kissing and kissing and kissing, clinging to him because Someone knows when he will see him after this, if he will see him, and Crowley swallowed every sound, every moan, and every stuttered word before it could spill.

Except, as always, the one time it mattered.

Aziraphale stares up at him, lashes wet with uncried tears and regret, and Crowley wonders if God ever really stopped punishing him.

"How dare you?" he says, spitting it out rough and hoarse and forcing himself to let go of him.

"How dare you ask me that?"

Crowley takes a step back, then another, and before he realises it, it is his back that is pressed against the opposite wall, it's his eyes that are stinging with tears he refuses to allow to fall; he has done enough of that to last eternity. Pain rips his chest right open, jagged nails pulling and tearing the flesh as blood floods out and onto the floor, and for a second he thinks he can taste it hot and metallic on his tongue. When he breathes and attempts to inhale around the gaping wound, no air will come, and his next words are strained.

"Get out. How fucking dare you ask me that question?"

"Crowley-" Hands, familiar, soft, reaching for him, and he flinches back hard enough to feel the beginnings of a flashing headache when his head slams into the brick wall.

He can taste blood and angel, desire and desperation, rage and regret—so much regret. More regret than any being should be capable of.

They've reached an impasse (againagainagain), and it ends the way it always does, the way it ended three months ago, four and a half before that, and six before that. Closer and closer, chasing after the life they did not get to live, and every single time Aziraphale tries to make him return to heaven with him.

It's not right that he can make his body, his existence, torture him worse than the deepest pits of hell with one single question. It's not fair, but then again, the universe has never cared much about fairness.

"Get. Out."

Aziraphale leaves (he always does), and Crowley slides to the floor and pushes the door shut behind him, leaning back to stare up at the ceiling. He mouths the words he can never say out loud; he has already said too much.

He always says too much.

Of course I love you, I never stopped.

I never stopped hating myself for it, either.

[atarathegreat]

Draken. Petty. Hair. DO IT.

Suck toes.

Ken Ryuguji x reader

What happens when gang member has a bad week and wakes up in a sour mood...alone?

Each day was as shitty as the last. If it wasn't the little annoyance of Mikey falling asleep after eating or making Kenny carry him around it was another gang trying to get on Toman turf or some brats picking a fight with him. Kenny felt like he couldn't catch a break, and just then was no different.

"Get lost, punk. I'm not in the mood today!" Draken growled, Mikey asleep on his back as he walked. It was just the perfect moment for the first year to get his ass beat. God, if Kenny could just put Mikey on the sidewalk and leave this whole mess to the unconscious boy. Though, he'd never leave his friend to handle his problems, even if Mikey could handle it. "Oh, is the big bad Draken afraid to fight a kid?" The little shit cackled. Cackled!

Kenny carefully put Mikey on the nearby bench, more pissed than he had been that whole week. "Your fuckin' funeral, brat."

He knew he was an amazing fighter, so he wasn't worried about him. Draken was, however, worried about how hard he was going to hit the boy. He went for a decent hit, sending the kid back a little bit and turning to grab Mikey. There was no need to double check the kid, it was obvious that he was out cold. "You owe me, Mikey." Kenny grumbled. Already that day had been filled with more fights than he liked.

And it didn't get any better when they got to the gang meeting. Peh-Yan was in a mood, meaning Pah-Chin was in a mood and they were picking fights with people left and right. As vice commander Draken had to deal with that. Nahoya was getting fired up because of Pah and Peh. As vice commander he had to handle it. Someone started an all out brawl in the middle of the crowd, and when Kenny went to break it up with the captains his head jerked back from a hit to the nose. It pissed him off to the point he had to leave the meeting.

Why were people all over him? Couldn't he catch a damn break? Didn't he earn some peace and quiet? It was stupid and Kenny was tired of being the person everyone ran after. It almost made him wish he'd dropped the gang shit when he was younger, and it wasn't any better when he returned home.

"Where have you been, Ken?" One of the ladies was already standing at the check in desk of the brothel, "It's late, you know?"

"Tch, get off my ass, okay? M'not in the mood." Draken walked past her. She grabbed hold of his shirt collar, tutting as she pulled him back, "C'mon now, young man, don't talk to me like that. I helped raise your ungrateful ass that I'm on."

He'd had enough, snapping at her for the first time, "Then maybe you shouldn't have! Ever think about that? Or are you too busy thinking about yelling at me when I come home?"

They both paused, Kenny staring angrily at her. He wasn't mad at anyone but himself in that moment, and stormed back past her and to the elevator.

It wasn't her fault he was having a bad week, and she was just being worried about where he'd been running off to so late. He sighed, knowing he'd get that later. She had been the one to primarily raise him, cared for him despite not being obligated to. She'd taught him to walk and talk, helped him learn to shave his face without really knowing how to herself. Kenny slammed a palm into his head as he thought about everything she'd done for him, but it didn't matter. He'd already snapped at her and couldn't bring himself to so much as text her.

There was only one place he could go anymore that wasn't going to make him feel guilty or pissed off, unless she'd had a shit day as well. It was worth it to at least see, and if he left quickly even more pissed off, then whatever.

But, heaven and earth, if he didn't feel a little bit of the weight fall from his shoulders when she answered the door. Her startled smile was still brighter than anything he'd faced his whole life, "Ken-Chin? Is everything okay?" All he had to do was shake his head and fall into a hug. She chuckled, her smaller body supporting the weight of the world that rested on Kenny.

"I can't do it, this week has sucked ass and I can't handle this shit." Kenny followed her inside like a lost and beaten dog. She sauntered around the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of something Kenny couldn't see and a wash cloth. "What happened to your nose, Kenny?" Y/n took her place between his legs, reaching out to gently clean the dried blood from his nose and lip.

"Got punched while I was at the meeting. Left early." Kenny mumbled as he leaned into her, his knees squeezing her middle to trap her next to him, "Weeks been shit, m'done doing it."

She sighed and the sound was enough to make Ken wish he hadn't brought his issues to her door, "Wanna talk about it?"

"Nah, just the normal shit being excessive." He wiped his face to get the peroxide off, smiling at Y/n, "Doing better now, I think."

It was her, everyone knew it was her that kept Kenny chilled out on his bad days. To Mikey it was more than obvious that Kenny sought out her presence when things got tough, often bringing her to meetings and glancing at her just to see her smile. She often lightened the mood, along with Emma who was just as giggly.

Kenny had met Y/n on a day that he needed it the most. He was about to get jumped by a ton of punks, and though he could've handled all of them, he was relieved when he didn't have to. She stomped up from behind him, loud and angry and pointing in everyone's faces, "Who do you think you are, ganging up on someone? I'm ashamed that you all go to this school! Go on!" And her spunky little self seemed to not mind that Kenny was clearly a delinquent, even smiled at him and commented on his tattoo.

The same tattoo she was tracing with her fingertip, talking about her day as Draken zoned back in, "And the math class was so hot I had to take my jacket off and-Kenny?" She'd only just noticed the way his hands were shaking, holding tightly to the bottom of her shirt, "M'fine, sweetheart. Keep talking."

"Well, I had to take my jacket off and, of course, my pen had to have busted in my skirt pocket and stained up my shirt. I've still got a black splotch stained onto my side!" She wound her finger around the dragons tail, making Kenny shiver and rest his head on her shoulder, "So a lot of the girls were laughing about that, rude tramps. But, I knew that I could change in the nurses office so it was an easy fix."

Listening to her problems made him feel better. Seeing how silly she acted over a busted pen, somehow made him feel happy he didn't have such trivial angers.

"What about you, Ken-Chin?" She asked, taking out his braid. He shrugged, "The usual. Little brats want to fight, Mikey is lazy, and the gang is wild. It's just a bit much right now."

"Maybe you should get some rest? You know Mom and Dad don't mind you staying here, we can share my bed, too." Y/n parted his hair down the middle, tugging lightly as she played with it, "You'll wake up and feel ten thousand times better!"

And he wouldn't deny it, either. Instead of grumbling, as he wanted to, he got up and stretched. Never did it cease to amaze him how he towered over her, and he saw it every time she had to crane her neck to look at him. And still Kenny trudged down the hall behind Y/n, yawning and ready to just relax. She tossed the blanket out and laid it over the bed, waving for Kenny to get comfortable. He wasn't about to waste his time asking silly questions of "Are you sure?" He knew she was serious and she'd kick his ass if he didn't get sleep.

But he was going to kick her ass when he woke up alone, to laughter in her living room. Kenny stayed silent as he stood in the hallway, watching as she brushed Mikey's hair, talking about how Kenny had showed up that night. Mikey thanked her as she put his hair up, only the top just how he liked it, and she smiled at him.

There was a quick shot that went through his chest, it was bothersome. Why was Mikey being so close to her? Why was she just smiling at him and laughing as though Kenny, as far as she knew, wasn't still laying in her bed. He could see his hair tie on her wrist and walked up behind them, "Move, Mikey." He didn't hesitate to pick up his best friend and toss him to the other seat, sitting on the floor in front of Y/n. She giggled, resting her legs over his shoulders and moving to softly brush his hair. There were a few knots, but not too many, and she was careful to not tug on them.

"A braid, as usual?" She leaned over and tapped his chest with the brush. He nodded, "Would ya'?"

Kenny didn't mind the slight tugging that pulled his head backward, he was just thankful that her attention was on him and not someone else.

[shawol-lisa-lee9]

TSC has been in my greedy hands for almost 48 hours now, and I managed to read it two and a half times already.

So many things to say about it, so little words I have to be able to do that. So, first of all

1) "Neil is such an unreliable narrator" not true, but can we talk about how Jean is just as much as "unreliable", but in a very different way? In the first three books we had a boy who cared so little about anything that wasn't exy (or Andrew) that he just didn't know/notice/cared enough to even acknowledge important things. In TSC we have a boy who knows SO LITTLE about anything in the World after being isolated for such a long time, that he sees everything through a distorted lens, and even when facts are right in front of him he just doesn't get it. They are not unreliable, they were forcefully taught to focus on things different than the whole picture.

2) Jean to me is so much a mixture of kevandreil it hurts me. He went through so much and yet gained so little it hurts. He has the same desperate will to live as Neil, the same "do what you want to me but keep X out of this" as Andrew (+ a lot of traumas), he has so many mental issues only Kevin can understand and a similar attitude. This not to say he's not "original", he's a very different person from the original trio, but he just... Has all of it. He combines other's main visible issues in one single person and it just hurts to see how much he's hurting but still wants and needs to carry on.

3) Neil X Jean scene at the end hits too hard on my heart. I do not presume to know exactly what my Goddess Nora was attempting to do with that, but my mind has found multiple possibilities on why Neil did what he did, and after all the times I read AFTG (which now amount to at least 35 rereads in a span of 3 years) only one has managed to grab my heart and never leave it. So, the main ones:

- As Jean thinks, Neil took care of Grayson because he is valuable in Ichirou's eyes, so Neil felt the need to protect Jean.

- Neil is aware of what Jean went through and is human enough to care for him, now that he knows he's not just a dick, and is willing to make sure Jean feels safe.

- Neil, being the person he is and having seen what Drake did to Andrew's mind, is not going to let Grayson do the same to anyone, especially someone he knows. As someone said here on Tumblr, "Neil is not gonna let a rapist alive if he can".

As I've come to understand the characters, for the first one, not even Neil is that cold that would just care about a person if they are valuable enough to him. In the second hypothesis, Neil is not the type of guy to just care that much about someone outside the foxes lot, but it's still a realistic idea, considering what Jean did for him in TRK. Third scenario, the most realistic and authentic one to me, he's not willing to let anyone get away with forcing themselves on another, even less if it's someone he knows and can do something about it. Which is also the reason why I'm obsessed with this scene and I would pay gold to see it in Neil's pov even when I know it's not possible.

4) Last point for this useless rant, CAN WE TALK ABOUT WYMACK? I swear to god that man is my absolute nightmare (in a good way), I just can't get over how much of a saint he is with those idiotic children he cares for + Jean. I just love him so much. He is rude and raw and can't be truly nice to save his life, but he cares, he cares about them with all his soul and he's not going to leave them alone when they need a helping hand the most.

I kind of wish coach Rhemann was like him, but at the same time I don't because a) if he was he would probably be at PSU, and b) I want him to be a completely different kind of dad to his boys and girls. (but I'm still going to cry on all of his scenes because that man is just too much for me (and for Jean), understanding but not pushing, being respectful of boundaries and "This was the belligerent stare of a man who’d haul Lucas out of there by force if Jean indicated he didn’t want to be alone with him.". )

So, yeah. I'm probably going to read it a third time tonight.

[outtoshatter]

Author spotlight for today is @sugareey-makes-stuff ! They joined the sterek/teen wolf fandom in 2022 and already have so much stuff to choose from!!

Bite sized stories:

Dancing Shadows from Behind | T | 500 tags: urban legends, demons, spark Stiles, alpha Derek Summary: Derek pulls Stiles closer to his chest as more shadows appear. Stalking, taunting and dancing around them. Ready to strike again at any moment.

[Or: Derek has no idea what to do when the Pack is trapped by daevas. But something ignites a Spark, and that's enough.]

Pink Lemonade | T | 600 tags: road trips, adventure, slice of life, established relationship Summary: “Stiles?” Derek murmurs, watching him closely. Almost hesitantly, as if Stiles might bolt at any second.

“Holy fucking—oh my God,” Stiles blurts out instead. He most definitely flails while staring at Derek in awe. “Why have you never told me about this place before?”

[Or: Derek surprises Stiles by taking him to one of his favorite spots for an early morning picnic.]

Memories Bring Back You | G | 200 tags: developing relationship, reunions, fix-it, post-movie Summary: It’s surreal to see Stiles flipping through the pages of his precious journal, soaking in every single word and drawing he’s documented over the years.

“You’re a dumbass, Derek,” Stiles declares plainly.

[Or: Derek tells Stiles how he really feels about him after all these years apart from each other. Because it's written down on paper now, and it's about damn time.]

It's Enough for Now | G | 300 tags: autumn, cold weather, sharing body heat, monster of the week Summary: “You know, I could get another blanket,” Stiles points out, breaking the silence. “Or let me grab my hoodie from the couch—”

“It’s fine,” Derek interjects in a low voice. He tugs the blanket gently, pulling Stiles closer. “Stiles…”

[Or, Stiles and Derek end up sharing a blanket after coming back from the pack's latest supernatural adventure.]

Over 1k:

[Art]Molten | E | 27K with Wolfspurr tags: friends to lovers, canon divergence, mutual pining Summary: "Stiles, is that you?"

He recognizes that voice. He doesn’t know why he’s hearing it here though, in whatever cold, dark cave he’s found himself in. The owner of that voice is supposed to be miles away, back home in Beacon Hills. Unless Stiles is the one that’s ended up further from home than he could possibly have predicted.

"Derek?!"

[Art]Brewin' up Love | E | 30k with wanderingeyre tags: alternating POV, getting together, fluff & angst, the pack ships it Summary: The Pack runs Moon Tower Fermentarium, a popular brewery in Beacon Hills, and they are a refuge for supernaturals that need it. Stiles is happy to be Scott's Emissary and loves being the head brewer. His life is great. If only he could get over his feelings for Derek.

Derek finally feels like the Pack is settled and he is proud of what they've built. He doesn't need anything else. He has Stiles in his life as his friend and that's more than he deserves. If he wishes for more in the dark of night, that is between him and the moon.

OR The one where the Pack owns a brewery and Stiles is on fire with the puns. Also, there is angst.

The Walls Came Crashing Down | T | 4k tags: canon divergence, hurt Stiles Stilinski, hopeful ending Summary: “Stop thinking so hard, or you’re going to bleed.”

Surely it couldn’t be—wasn’t his Pack supposed to be duking things out with vampires right now? But a very solid and reassuring hand squeezed his own. Grounding him. Holding on, as if to drain away his pain.

There was only one person who always did this whenever he got hurt.

“Derek?” Stiles whispered, his voice raw and scratchy.

*

[Or: A mission goes horribly wrong, and Stiles finally figures out where he stands with Derek.]

Feel You Breathing | E | 8k | 3 chapters tags: porn with feelings, unresolved sexual tension, writer Derek, bartender Stiles Summary: Derek: So, you need a distraction.

Stiles: Maybe Stiles: It’d be better if you were here to help me with that. Stiles: ;D

[Or: Sexy things start late one night when Derek gets a text from Stiles and escalate from there. A few secrets are revealed along the way.]

Made from Scratch | T | 2k tags: alpha Derek, spark Stiles, family feels, fluff & angst, teasing Summary: Derek missed Stiles. He hadn’t realized how much…until now. Something had to change. But where did he even start?

[Or: That one time Derek makes dinner for Stiles, thanks to inspiration from a family recipe and some nudging from Cora.]

Go check out all of sugareey's fics on their AO3 page! Don't forget to mind the tags, leave a kudos, and maybe even drop a comment!

[spookypete-94]

Friday Ice Cream

wanted to write something a little sweet for simon, slight spoiler for MW3- but nothing directly. Think this is going to be something I turn into a series and will have an actual name eventually.

It had been a tradition for you to end your week with chocolate ice cream from your favorite parlor in Manchester since you were small. In fact, you had been doing it since the time of leaving primary school and taking your neighbor friend Simon with you when he didn't want to go home.

The chocolate comforted you both - it being yours and his favorite. Life hadn't exactly been kind to you both. Your father had left your mother when you were young, and Simon's father was a terror. Many times, you had wished that his father would have left like yours did. Sure, it made things hard on your mother, but you never lived in fear like Simon did... Often standing in line, you couldn't help but think of him. He stood by your side in this line every Friday, you buying him ice cream with money given to you by your mother, and it was always the same. Your mother always made sure she treated you this way, no matter how difficult money was - sometimes it came down you buying one and sharing with Simon. But you always made him feel included. It was important to you.

At the ripe age of 17, he stopped attending with you. You hearing that he joined the military young made your heartache that he just seemed to up and disappear. Gone without a trace.

But him standing next to you in this line every Friday, you understood why. His life was hard, but you just had wished he would have said goodbye.

Moving up the line little by little, you fiddled with the hem of your shirt glancing around out the windows periodically. At the front of the line, you didn't even get to recite your normal weekly order... it was already slid to you across the counter from the cashier. Chocolate with drizzle, small brownie crumbles on it. Seeing your confused face, the cashier answered your unsaid question, "A man that was in front of you about 3 orders paid for yours."

Surely not... "Did he say who he was?"

"No ma'am, just got the same thing you did."

"Thanks," you said, rushing yourself to try to catch him. You weren't paying attention to your surroundings earlier. He was always bigger than you in youth, but other than that, you'd have had no idea what he looked like. Bursting through the door, you looked left and right- but you saw no abnormally large man. He left you once more, making your heart sad.

Next Friday, you paid better attention. Sure enough, there was a large man about 4 people in front of you. But by some act of God, you weren't quick enough to get to him in time. People in the way, workers in and out of the line. It's never this busy in here. it's like the world knew your task and worked against it. Sure enough, walking past the front register, your ice cream was pushed to you, paid for once more. Sighing and feeling defeated, you ate your ice cream on your walk home. Already deciding a plan, next week was going to be different.

On the 3rd Friday, you sat outside of the parlor at a table early, ice cream already bought for the two of you. Staying vigilant, your head turning back and forth to look for him. At last, a large man walked past you, a shadow casted over you. Your heart stopped knowing at the bottom of it, that this was him. Standing up, you gently caught his elbow, making him stop. "Simon?" Maybe it was his size, maybe it was the fact that you hadn't seen him ten plus years, maybe it was the look in his eye when he turned to you or the fact his face was covered with a mask leaving you unable to read anything about him.

"Simon?" you repeated.

"It's me," he finally answered. You let go of his arm. Handing him the ice cream you got for him, pulling out the chair.

"Would you sit with me?"

It was almost comical in away, he dwarfed the small chair. It was quiet at first. You could see his broken eyes staring at the ice cream. Your much smaller hand reaching for his.

"Hey.." you said quietly, making him look up at you. "I'm here, you alright?"

"Lost a..." he seemed to struggle to find the word, his brow squeezing together. Gripping his hand just a little closer, "A brother recently..." Your thumb stroked over the back of his hand. "And it made me think of you, I don't have many friends... I wondered how you were if you were still around."

"Still here, I didn't get very far, I'm sorry, Simon. I wish you didn't have to deal with that..." He didn't say anything, and you didn't want to pry.

"How have you been?" His voice finally echoed to you.

"Just the same old. My mom passed about 3 years ago, and it's been just me now. Still make time for ice cream, though."

"Sorry bout your mom," his umber coals locked with yours. "Ice cream is how I found you." His voice is low and raspy, seeming a bit lighter now.

"Clever, I'll give you that. Think I'm gonna change up my routine, some seeming as I'm so easy to figure out."

"You should," he said dryly, making you chuckle.

Looking down at your ice cream, you noticed it started to melt over the containers.

"You want to get out of here? You can tell me about your friend somewhere in private?"

"Yeah," he muttered, standing up from the seat.

"Missed you, wished you would have said goodbye or how to stay in contact.." You blurted, unable to contain the hurt you've felt over this decade.

"I couldn't bring myself to say goodbye, but after losing someone special out there- I knew what I did to you wasn't right."

Tired of making him feel even worse, you tried to joke. You knew this was a serious matter to him, but joking was how the two of you coped as kids through all the dark things you both encountered.

"You got so huge too. What the hell are they feeding you over seas?"

"Not chocolate, maybe why you are so small in comparison."

"Still a funny guy, at least," you said, running your shoulder into his arm. You could hear the snort of air that he always made when he smiled as a kid.

That's how it felt to you, at least, being a kid walking next to someone you grew up with. Like somehow, you've traveled back in time. There next to you was that same sweet boy dealt a difficult hand. He was and will be someone you confided in when things were going wrong or hard. He felt the same. He always had you. Maybe that's what tied you both together and why he felt bad about leaving you behind with no word. He's here now, and he is going to make up for lost time.

Simon Ghost Riley Masterlist

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (43)

part 43 of ?? | 1572 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

He’d wanted to build Steve up a little bit, let him feel good about how the game had gone and about himself, and it must have worked a little too well. This is a fluke. Any second now the other shoe is going to drop and Steve will pull back with a whispered wait and that was a mistake.  The least he can ask for is some flash of a good memory to hold onto after, so Eddie kisses back.

A note about the rating... It might go up soon. Not "tonight," but it could be on the horizon. I'm not being a tease, I genuinely haven't decided yet. My forte is "idiot-level miscommunications and mutual pine trees, if they fall alone in the forest do they make a sound," not smut.

And a disclaimer: I've never watched J.T. Hooker in my life.

43.

Steve is kissing him. 

Steve. 

Is kissing.

Him. Eddie Munson. The guy who treated him like dirt for the crime of being a jock with rich parents, not realizing that sports was the only positive feedback Steve has had in his life since whatever age the Harrington’s had decided he was old enough to Be A Man. (So birth, probably? At a guess.)

He’d wanted to build Steve up a little bit, let him feel good about how the game had gone and about himself, and it must have worked a little too well. This is a fluke. Any second now the other shoe is going to drop and Steve will pull back with a whispered wait and that was a mistake. 

The least he can ask for is some flash of a good memory to hold onto after, so Eddie kisses back. 

He leans into the warm palm cradling his cheek and feels like he’s floating (though some of that’s from smoking, and his somewhat rusty alcohol tolerance). One breathless sigh and Steve licks into his mouth, tentative for all that he definitely knows what he’s doing. It’s so sweet that Eddie wants to coo, and he curls an arm around Steve’s neck without thinking, thumbing over moles and freckles that he’s been staring at all summer as though he has any right to touch them.

God, he’d watched King Steve kiss girls against their lockers in high school. Watched how the guy seemed drawn to them even between classes like a goddamn magnet. Had he been jealous? Hell yes. And now here he is, drowning in this taste of Steve’s full and undivided attention. 

The end of the kiss is like being plucked from heaven and gently deposited back on earth. His fingers, he realizes, have migrated into Steve’s famous hair—somewhat worse for wear already from Steve running his hands through it all day during the campaign, but still. Eddie feels caught out, like he’d walked into a museum and licked a painting or something. And in that instant of stillness before he has to start breathing again, he almost wishes none of it had never happened.

One kiss from Steve Harrington could never be enough.  

“Sorry,” Steve whispers, still close enough that Eddie can hear feel taste the word. He sounds . . . reluctant? “I should’ve asked if, if that—if I could.”

Eddie blinks. He feels slow and stupid, as though startled out of a deep sleep. (There’s also a slight situation in his jeans that he hopes to hell Steve hasn’t noticed yet.) 

Doesn’t asking for permission imply premeditated intent? That doesn’t make sense though. What thought would Steve have put into kissing him in advance? Unless. . . .

Eddie tries to remind himself not to get his hopes up, but it’s hard when his lips are still tingling and he knows how Steve fucking tastes.

“So, uh.” Steve isn’t moving away—but that might be because Eddie still has an arm around his shoulders and a hand in his hair. “Sorry. I just, I wanted. . . .” 

“Me?” Eddie fills in, hoping that his tone conveys his utter bafflement at the notion. 

(He expects Steve to shake his head and say something like no, comfort, or to turn my brain off for a while. Eddie is aware that he’s not much of a catch to start with, and Steve has seen him at a variety of his absolute worsts.)

But Steve says, “Yeah.” And then stares at Eddie like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but also isn’t going to take it back now that it’s out there. 

“Why me?” Eddie tries. He starts to retract his hand from Steve’s hair, unwind his arm from around Steve’s broad shoulders, but freezes when he hears a soft sound of protest. 

What is going on here. 

“Why not you?” Steve retorts, as though this is a natural follow-up to that question. “I like you, I don’t know.”

“How?”

Steve is frowning now. “Dude, you know I’m bisexual.”

“I, that’s not,” Eddie sputters. “Steve, I blackmailed you. The only motivation you should have for kissing me is to pull some sort of prank, because it’s what I deserve.”

“That’s not a motivation, Eddie, that’s a motive. Haven’t you ever watched T.J. Hooker?”

This conversation is seriously starting to make Eddie’s brain short out. “Not really a cop show kinda guy, Steve. Kinda too busy watching reruns of Star Trek instead.”

“Oh.” Steve frowns. “Isn’t that the same guy though?”

“We’re getting off track here,” Eddie decides. He feels one more comment about William fucking Shatner away from complete hysteria. Like, he knows they’re both a little fucked up right now, but this is ridiculous.

Steve looks away and shrugs, as if to say yeah okay, you got me there. He seems to draw more into himself, a lot like he had been before they’d started smoking. A part of Eddie aches to see it; the rest of him is still confused.

“If you’re gonna be mad I kissed you, be mad,” Steve mutters, addressing his knees. “I get that I’m not . . . your type, or whatever. I know I’m not the best guy—”

“You’re a great guy, Steve,” Eddie interrupts, with absolute certainty. He wants to reach out, touch his shoulder or something, but isn't sure if that would help or make things worse. “Most guys, when they up and kiss a dude, don’t stop because they realize they should have asked first.”

Steve’s eyes find his, wide and hazel and earnest. In another time and place, Eddie thinks he could fall into that swirl of colors and get lost forever. “I still think why not you is a better question, Eds,” he says simply. “Especially if your only reason not to is because you think I shouldn’t want to.”

Which shuts Eddie right up. (Wayne used to joke that nothing in the world could do that, and Eddie has never bothered to tell him that actually, pretty boys looking at him with Intent usually do the trick.)

Because, what the fuck. 

Steve is basically saying to him what he had just said to Steve. 

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie breathes, dazed by the possible implications. “Every time I think I have you figured out, it turns out I had no goddamn idea.”

“Is that . . . bad?”

He shakes his head, feels like his hair is frizzing out around him as wildly as his thoughts. (Hopes. Dreams.) “No. It’s good, it’s really, really good Stevie, and if you want to kiss me again you should do it right now before I lose my fucking mind—”Steve kisses him again, and this time Eddie knows he can savor it.

[underforeversgrace]

the road to hell is paved with good intentions

title: the road to hell is paved with good intentions

words: 6995

Complete

Summary: Jack feels like death as he fights the flu, Danny’s wrist is broken and he refuses to talk about it, and Maddie feels like she can’t do anything right.

If he could just see through his son’s eyes, walk in his shoes for a while.

He forgot one should never say the word ‘wish’ in Amity Park.

AO3

“It’s nothing, okay?” Danny shouted, exasperated.

“Why won’t you just talk to us?” Maddie yelled back, similar frustration in her tone.

Jack just groaned as shoved his head further under his pillow. One of these days this family really needed to invest in some soundproof coating or something. His wife and son were in the living room, how could he possibly hear them so loudly? Why was this his life? Jack whined pathetically into the bedroom, empty except for him.

“There’s nothing to talk about, why is that so hard for you to understand?” Danny shot back.

“It isn’t nothing, Danny! Your wrist is very clearly broken, for Christ’s sake!”

Jack could practically hear the eye roll from the other room. “It so is not, mom!”

“It is bruised and crooked, why the hell won’t you tell me who did this?”

“Nothing happened and no one did anything! Ugh, I’m done with this crap.”

“Now wait just a second young man-!” Maddie didn’t even get to finish her sentence before Jack heard the front door slam close with impressive force, the window pane beside him shaking from it. Add doing a structural check for the house to the same to-do list that has the soundproofing on it, there was no way Danny was strong enough for this window to be doing that.

A cough tore from him, feeling like knives against his already sore throat. The flu sucked. He was still in the middle of his coughing fit when he heard the door to his room open, his wife’s soft footsteps coming over beside him. He heard the squeak of her hazmat suit as she leaned down to him, pushing back his sweaty hair and running her fingers through it. He didn’t say anything, instead giving a hum of satisfaction at the relaxing touch.

Maddie pressed the back of her hand against Jack’s forehead, sighing at whatever she felt. “You’re still burning up.” She said. Jack almost whined again when she pulled away from him. “I think I’m sleeping on the couch tonight, dear.”

“And you’re sure it isn’t ghost flu?” Jack croaked, doing his best to ignore the pain in his throat.

“I’m positive, sweetie.” Maddie said. Jack groaned and opened his eyes, watching his wife piddle around the room while she got ready for bed.

“What happened?” He asked.

Maddie stilled, staring at the pajamas she had pulled from the dresser. She slunk down to the edge of the bed, sitting down. “Danny’s wrist is obviously broken and I think part of his hand is too. It’s bruised and I swear it looks crooked. I don’t think he knew I was in the kitchen, he didn’t hide it in time. Now he’s stormed out. Why would he hide something like that? He needs medical attention!” Anger suddenly flared in her face and she bunched up the pajamas, viciously throwing it halfway across the room. They fell harmlessly to the floor, but Maddie continued to glare as if they had deeply offended her. “I don’t understand. God, why won’t he talk to me? We used to be so close! Today has been one fucking nightmare after another and I can’t take anymore.”

“What else happened?” He asked. Jack had been in bed almost all day - he hadn’t even been able to drive himself to the doctor, Jazz had had to squeeze him into her car and drive him. Jack and being sick did not get along well.

“Phantom, what else?” Maddie practically spat the ghost’s name. “I had him! I had him, Jack. I even literally handcuffed him to me! With the power suppressant cuffs so he couldn’t phase through them! But almost immediately after, I heard a loud crack and he was gone. I had him for a grand total of five seconds. I cannot for the life of me figure out how he got out. I failed as a mother and an ectoscientist today.”

The longer she spoke, the more anger faded from her voice, getting replaced with exhaustion and sadness so deep it was nearly grief.

“Why won’t he just talk to us?” Maddie asked desperately.

Jack reached out a hand and patted her reassuringly on the leg. “I don’t know.” Jack admitted, every syllable a knife directly to his throat. “I wish sometimes I could just… walk in his shoes, see through his eyes. Understand him. All we can do is our best, Mads.”

Maddie slumped forward, defeated. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” The bed creaked slightly as she left it, grabbing the thrown clothes from the floor. “I’ll get you something to help you sleep, okay?”

“Thanks.” He croaked, fatigue settling in. He really was not doing well, that short conversation had been incredibly taxing.

Maddie changed into her pajamas, left the room, and came back a few minutes later, water and various bottles in her hands. “Okay. Take this antiviral for the flu symptoms. Here’s some cough syrup as well. And, honestly, you sound awful, so here’s Benadryl and the Fenton Knock ‘Em Out. Can’t feel bad if you’re dead to the world!”

Jack tried to chuckle, but it just sent him into another coughing fit. He accepted the medication from his wife, dutifully slamming it down.

It really was a shame they couldn’t sell the Knock ‘Em Out, it worked so well, but neither of them technically had the degrees to be making medication in their basement. More for them!

Maddie kissed his forehead as she left, grabbing her pillow. The cocktail in his system kicked in quickly. All he thought of was Danny as he drifted away.

~~~~~~

Jack grumbled as light spilled in from his open curtains. He could’ve sworn Maddie had closed them last night. He cleared his throat, tested his limbs. He was relieved when nothing hurt the way it had last night, his arms and legs no longer feeling like lead. Wow, all that crap he took last night had really helped! Even if he did feel kinda sore in other spots. Must’ve slept wrong.

Eyes still closed against the offensive light, he pushed himself up. Or, tried to. He yelped in pain, eyes flying open as his right hand aggressively protested the action. He gripped his wrist with his left hand, pulling it against him.

He stared at his hands, though, utterly bewildered because these were most definitely not his hands. Jack blinked several times, trying to get his eyes to get back to reality instead of whatever dream state it was stuck in.

The hands in front of him had no gloves on, despite Jack knowing he fell asleep with them. They were too narrow, too small, too pale. He studied them closer, brows furrowing. Even that felt weird, he realized. His entire body felt, just… off.

His right wrist was mostly definitely sprained and had a nasty bruise entirely circling it, the bruise extending up to his thumb as well. Jack wiggled his(?) thumb in curiosity. It ached slightly as the bruise was pulled on. His left hand was, somehow, the more surprising one. He had to hold it close to his face, moving it to observe it from every angle, letting as much natural light illuminate the limb. It was so faint, he could barely see it.

A scar shaped like lightning branched around his hand and up his arm, fading into non-existence shortly above his elbow.

Done examining his arm, he studied the room around him. Well, at least he knew this room, though he wasn’t sure if that was reason to panic or not. There was no denying the walls covered in star posters, the NASA comforter set he was snuggled under. He threw the blankets from him and ran to the nearby mirror.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to react when his son’s face was the one staring back at him, blue eyes wide with bewilderment. Jack touched his/his son’s face, still not quite believing it, even as he ran his hands across a smooth chin where Jack should have stubble.

“What the hell?” He asked, though Danny’s voice was the one who spoke his words. He hurried from the teen’s room, running into his own.

Was this an out of body experience? Literally seeing his own body, sniffling and coughing under the covers.

Jack moved to wake Danny-in-Jack’s-body up, but was distracted by Jazz talking to him from her doorway.

“Danny? You’re never up this early, were you out all night again?”

“Uh…” Again, hearing Danny’s voice was incredibly odd right now. A glance back at his sleeping form and an idea formed in Jack’s head. He could pretend to be Danny - maybe he’d learn something. He felt a twinge from the bruised wrist - the one Maddie had yelled about last night, the one that had hurt Jack so badly this morning. He loved his son and if the only way to find out what was hurting him was to pretend to be him for a day? He wouldn’t complain.

Smiling in a way he hoped mimicked Danny, he turned away from his own sleeping body. The mix of medication Jack had taken last night should keep him down most of the day and he suspected Danny was currently inhabiting Jack’s body.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Jack lied, shrugging like Danny so often did.

“Danny, what’s that?” Jazz asked, stepping closer and gently grabbing Danny’s injured hand. Jack hissed as it twinged painfully.

“Uh…” he said. He and Maddie didn’t know if Jazz knew what Danny was involved in and he couldn’t risk saying the wrong thing if she did. So he shrugged again. How often did Danny shrug? Was this believable? “It’s nothing.”

Jazz sighed, gently examining her brother’s hand. “Just because it’s a minor injury doesn’t mean it’s nothing.” Jack’s eyes widened. What the hell was his son doing that this was minor?

Jazz continued, too focused on the purple bruises to notice her father’s distress. “You broke this, didn’t you? You know you’re supposed to come to me when that happens so I can at least splint it.”

How often was Danny breaking bones?!

“It was late when I got home,” Jack finally said, realizing the silence was starting to stretch too long. “I didn’t want to wake you. Besides, it’s just a sprain.”

Jazz snorted, thwacking her brother on the back of the head. “As if that means anything. We agreed you would stop that, Danny. You wake me up next time, understand?”

“Next time?” Jack asked, and it was definitely his son’s voice cracking because of puberty right then, Jack had not squeaked.

“If you ever figure out how to stop the ��next times,’ let me know. Wanna ride to school or you gonna go solo?”

Did Danny frequently walk by himself to school? As far as his parents knew, Danny always carpooled with his sister. He looked out the window behind Jazz, where snow flurries fell. “Can you give me a lift? It’s snowing too much.”

For some inexplicable reason, Jazz laughed. “Yeah, as if the snow has ever stopped you.” She looked at her watch. “Meet me downstairs in ten and we can head out.”

Jack just nodded, suddenly realizing this meant he had to dress Danny. Somehow, that felt like more of an invasion of privacy than deciding to try to masquerade as him. Still, that conversation with his daughter had set off more alarms than a building on fire. Jazz - who had always been so protective of her brother, who tried to push him to be his best self - knew whatever Danny was going through and didn’t tell them.

As Jack ran back into his room - wow Danny was fast! - he frowned as he thought over Jazz’s words. She made it sound like Danny frequently broke bones. But bones took a long time to heal and they were extremely painful. Danny would need medical attention - a cast and possibly pain medication. Even after Jack - er, Danny? - had assured her it was just a sprain, she still scolded him like a broken bone. Jack knew his daughter knew bones would take weeks to heal.

Jack quickly changed, doing his best to not think about how utterly awkward this was and he ran downstairs. Maddie wasn’t on the couch so he hurried down the stairs to the lab.

“You’re up early, sweetie!” Maddie said.

“Listen to me,” Jack said urgently, continuously glancing up the stairwell to make sure Jazz hadn’t appeared. “It’s me, Jack. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but I woke up as Danny this morning. Whatever Danny’s into, Jazz knows! His wrist is just sprained, and I think his thumb might have gotten hurt too.” He held up the damaged hand as proof. “I took enough sleeping medication last night to put a bull down for a week - Danny is in my body and he won’t wake up any time soon. This is our chance! Maybe I can figure out what’s going on by pretending to be him! Jazz saw this and just got onto me - uh, Danny? - for not coming to her last night for her to put a splint on it! She thought he’d broken his hand because he does it a lot!”

As soon as he was done talking, he frowned. He hadn’t needed to take a breath for any of that. Danny must be in really good shape, even though he didn’t look it. Something about that explanation, though… it just didn’t feel right.

Maddie, thankfully, took it in stride. There were some benefits of marrying a scientist who believed in ghosts. Outlandish situations weren’t as unbelievable. “Are you sure?” She asked.

Jack nodded. “Maybe I can get something. Anything to put us on the right path. We won’t get this chance again.”

Maddie bit at her lip indecisively. “It feels wrong. But you’re right. You just have to make sure his friends buy it.” 

Jack shrugged. “He’s a teenage boy. How hard could it be? I just need to let them talk. Someone knows something and they won’t shy around the topic around him.”

“Do it.” Maddie said. “I’ll call you if Danny wakes up. Now go, quickly!”

Jack instinctively began to reach towards Maddie to hug her, but, again, it just felt… bad to do in his son’s body. So he just nodded and bolted up the stairs.

Wow, he really needed to get on whatever workout regimen Danny was apparently hiding. This boy could zoom. 

The living room was still empty when he re-entered, pulling Danny’s jacket and gloves from the rack by the door. Jazz wasn’t far behind him, digging her keys out of her purse.

“You remembered your coat for once!” Jazz said, grinning. “I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have to remind you to get it.”

Was Danny really that forgetful? This was Illinois, it snowed a lot. Was he getting head trauma on top of whatever else he was doing? Jack just grinned sheepishly in the best impersonation of Danny he could muster, following Jazz to the car.

“So, are you going to tell me who did that?” Jazz asked as they pulled away from the driveway, pointing briefly to his wrist before firmly placing both hands properly on the wheel.

Crap. Crap, crap, crap. Jack had no idea how Danny had sprained his wrist, much less who did it to him. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He whined, crossing his arms and sinking further into his seat.

“Oh my God, was it Boxy?” Jazz said, laughing.

This was definitely a gang. But what kind of gang member went by Boxy? But it was an answer Jack could play off of. “Lucky shot.”

Whoever this Boxy was, he must be really weak, Jack determined, as Jazz was nearly crying from laughter. “No wonder you didn’t want to talk about it! By the Ancients, how did Boxy manage to break your wrist?”

“It’s just a sprain!” Jack protested, trying to push the conversation away from topics he had no idea what was going on. And also trying his best to not feel slightly disappointed at how hilarious his daughter found her brother getting hurt.

“Which means it was a clean break last night.” Jazz shot back.

“That’s impossible!” Jack immediately reacted, forgetting to actually think before he spoke.

Thankfully, Jazz didn’t seem to notice, apparently still thinking Danny was just messing around. “Yeah, and absolutely nothing about you is impossible.” She said sarcastically.

Jack had utterly no clue what was going on, so he reverted to a tried and true Danny method - he went silent and looked away, giving Jazz the cold shoulder.

Jazz laughed again but she didn’t push, allowing her brother to stew.

When they pulled into the school and he left her car, though, he realized a fundamental flaw in his plans.

He had no earthly idea where Danny’s classes or locker were. He was fairly certain Danny had passively mentioned at one point that every class he had either Sam or Tucker with him, so Jack would just… have to tag along. He had a 50/50 shot of getting it right. Maybe he could blame tiredness if he chose the wrong one?

“Danny!” Tucker yelled, waving as he strolled towards Jack. He was bundled in winter clothing.

Jack took a deep breath, preparing himself for the performance of his life. Again, something with Danny’s breathing just felt wrong. It wasn’t… he didn’t know, satisfying? There was something deep inside that he couldn’t place, something that was just… missing.

Regardless, he smiled back at the approaching boy, waving as well. “Hey, Tuck!”

Tucker closed the distance between them, both of them off to the side of a busy hallway. Jack assumed they were waiting for Sam.

Starting to feel a little too warm in this jacket - the school must have jacked the heat all the way up - he pulled it off with a sigh of relief.

“Dude, have you lost it? It’s freezing in here. Put that back on!” Tucker said quietly, looking around and watching the others.

“What? No, it’s burning up in here.”

“Dude, did you forget the heater broke? You know you get warm easily. Besides,” he continued, pointing at the splotchy purple bruise, “we don’t want people seeing that.”

Jack wanted to argue but he conceded. He was Danny right now, this apparently was just a normal thing his son dealt with, even if it made absolutely no sense to Jack.

He was obediently pulling the jacket back on, tugging the sleeve down to hide the purple mark, though it didn’t seem nearly as bad as he had remembered it. He must’ve imagined how awful it looked, made it worse.

“Danny, Tuck,” Sam greeted as she joined the little group. Jack, however, had gotten distracted by the lightning scar on his hand again.

“Earth to space case!” Sam called, playfully hitting his shoulder with a book. “What’s up?”

“Just, uh. Got distracted.” Jack managed, sticking both hands in his pockets as though it was normal. “Forget how bad that scar is sometimes.” 

Jack had been hoping that would prod the two into giving more information, but they just shrugged. “We’ll take your word for it. You know we’ve never seen it on this side of you.” Tucker answered.

Well. Damn. This side of you? Jack just had more questions now. The three of them got swept away in the crowd, Jack following his son’s best friends as closely as possible.

He felt an odd stir in his chest. It almost felt like… contentment? Like, his body was content even though he wasn’t? Jack couldn’t quite… place whatever was happening in him. It definitely wasn’t bad. Just… weird.

Jack yelped as he felt himself be grabbed by his collar, his back thrown to the wall. He scowled at whoever had grabbed him - a tall blond jock, flanked on either side by two others.

“How are you today, Fentonia?” The boy sneered.

“Dash, for one day, just one, can you not be a giant fucking prick?” Sam asked.

The boy - Dash, apparently - tilted his head in thought and paused. “Nope!” He said cheerfully, a punch flying towards Jack’s face.

Time seemed to slow, the incoming strike almost cartoonish in its exaggerated slo-mo. Jack easily broke the larger boy’s grip, throwing his arms up to protect his face. Something felt like it was… missing. Something he couldn’t place.

The punch landed on his crossed arms and the odd time perception stopped. Despite Dash’s apparent higher strength, Danny’s body didn’t flinch beneath the blow, nothing more than a piece of paper being brushed against him.

Dash yelped in pain, holding his hand against himself, looking at Jack in surprise. Behind him, Tucker and Sam looked stunned as well. Jack just studied the scene, wide eyed. 

What. What was that? What did he just do?

It was one of the other boys behind Dash who broke the silence - a redhead. “You stole some of your parents' tech, didn’t you? Even with the shit your insane parents make, you’re a loser.”

Dash nodded along with the other boy. “Yeah, what Jeff said. Freak.” He didn’t look like he actually believed it, to be honest, but he was going to roll with whatever sounded better than… whatever the hell Jack had just done. They quickly left after.

Sam and Tucker immediately closed ranks on him, blocking him from view.

“What the hell, Danny!” Sam hissed. “You know you can’t do that!”

“I didn’t mean to,” Jack protested.

Tucker pinched the bridge of his nose, slightly pushing up his glasses. “I thought you had control of the power now, dude. You can’t be here if you don’t. It’s too dangerous!”

“Do you need to go back to Clockwork, Danny?” Sam asked.

Power? Clockwork?

Jack just blinked wildly, unsure what had just happened.

“It’s okay if you do,” Sam said, her voice softening. “Time doesn’t move here if Clockwork doesn’t want it to. You can go spend a few more months with him.”

Jack just shook his head rapidly. “I’m fine.” He said, pushing away from the locker. The way they phrased it, it sounded like Danny had already spent some months with this Clockwork. But that was impossible, Danny hadn’t been gone longer than a night in years. “It won’t happen again.”

“It can’t happen again, Danny.” Tucker pleaded. “You can’t get revealed. I thought you were about to hit Dash! Fuck, dude, you already had to break your own wrist and half your hand last night to get away from Maddie, do you want to get caught?”

Genuine fear and worry emanated from his son’s two friends. But Jack almost didn’t notice it. Their words had struck him as he struggled to understand them.

“Let’s just… let’s just go to class, okay?” Jack finally managed. This charade was getting harder and harder, he was grasping at straws to stay in character. A character he apparently knew nothing about.

“Yeah. C’mon, before Lancer gives you another detention.” Sam sighed, turning away. Tucker and Jack fell into step behind her.

“Seriously, dude. If you can’t control it, promise me you’ll go back to Clockwork.” Tucker said, throwing a worried glance at his friend.

Jack desperately wished he knew who this Clockwork was, that he knew what was going on. It almost seemed… ghostly. But that was impossible. Danny was human, Jack had seen him go through a ghost shield last week. Was Danny involved in a literal mad science experiment? Trying to fuse ghost abilities to a human host? Was it hurting Danny? Was he having to fight other guinea pigs? How in the absolute hell could his son fucking slow down time? That wasn’t an ability he knew any ghost to be capable of.

“I promise.” Jack lied. If this Clockwork was forcing his son into something, there was no way in hell he was letting Danny back near him.

Tucker breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

As they settled into their apparent normal seats - why did Danny insist on sitting so far away? - Jack’s mind was a storming ocean.

Jack knew Tucker loved Danny - romantically or platonically Jack didn’t know or care - so his words confused Jack now that he thought about them. He wouldn’t encourage Danny to do something dangerous. Sam wouldn’t either. They were thicker than thieves, even closer than Jack had been with Maddie and Vlad back in college.

And what they had said about Danny breaking his own bones to escape someone named Maddie. Of course, it wasn’t his Mads, she’d sooner rip their portal apart and set herself on fire than hurt either of her kids, just like Jack would. What other Maddie was in Danny’s life? Was Maddie trying to kidnap his son?

How was it that he found out his son was being physically bullied by another student, and it wasn’t the worst thing he’d learned?

The day went by slowly. Jack did his best to take notes for Danny, his grades were already so poor… but it was all so boring. He’d seen ghosts with more vigor for life than some of these teachers! So far, he’d also been right in his guesses of who to follow to which classes through sheer dumb luck.

His next chance to properly speak to Sam and Tucker didn’t come until lunch. They had glanced at him throughout the day, but they seemed more of worry for this morning than suspicion that he wasn’t Danny.

Maybe his son was more like him than he’d realized, among his friends.

The day had gotten slightly warmer, some of the snow finally fading from the ground. Jack was immensely grateful as the trio ended up sitting down outside. They weren’t wrong when they’d said Danny got warm easily. Jack quite enjoyed being outside - there was no wind, but the cool air seemed to soothe him.

“It’s so nice right now.” Jack said, looking around. They were extremely isolated, tucked in a far off corner that dipped slightly behind the school.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, ice head.” Tucker said, rolling his eyes. He’d taken off some of the heavier winter clothes but he was still swaddled in several layers. “We’re only out here because you need to feel better. Uh - not that it’s a bad thing! Or anything!” He began to babble.

“We need you to feel better, too.” Sam interjected, cutting off Tucker’s babbling. She then rounded on Tucker, stole the red beret off his head, and then began to swat at him repeatedly with it. “Are you trying to get his hero complex riled up?”

Jack added that tidbit to the growing list of things he’d learned about Danny when he froze. Suddenly he felt like ice was consuming his insides, freezing his blood in his veins. It was brief, ending when he exhaled and blue mist escaped his mouth.

That wasn’t what drew his attention, though, as the ice retreated back into the center of his chest, nestling back into his ribs. He had felt all day, he realized, and he hadn’t noticed.

“Danny? Where’s the ghost?” Sam asked, though Jack didn’t see her right now.

Because he’d finally realized what had been missing.

He had no heartbeat. That’s what had been missing earlier, in the fight - the pounding of blood in his ears as his heart raced. Then he noticed that, in his shock, he had stopped breathing. Yet there was no burn in his lungs as he continued to hold it. There was no desperate need to breathe, no fear of suffocating.

Jack began to panic, pressing his a hand to his silent chest, searching for a pulse in his neck.

“Danny!” Sam and Tucker both called, running to his side. “What’s wrong?”

Jack knew he was probably having a panic attack, he’d helped Maddie through a few towards the end of their doctorates. But it was wrong, there was no constricting of his chest, nothing seeming to suffocate him as he didn’t draw breath.

“I can’t-“ he stumbled over his words. “The heartbeat - I can’t - where - I can’t - I can’t find a heartbeat.” 

“Danny, did you get shot with something new last night?” Tucker asked.

Sam meanwhile, sat beside him, pulling Jack’s hands into her own. “Danny,” she said softly. “You haven’t had a heartbeat since you died.”

“Died?” Jack said. He was spiraling hard. Somehow, the lack of his heart erratically beating due to anxiety was making this worse.

“Danny, what happened last night? Did something happen you didn’t tell us about?” Sam asked, her voice more gentle than Jack had ever heard her.

“Oh dear, am I interrupting something?” An echoed voice asked. If he had any more room for panic, the fact the Wisconsin Ghost was hovering in front of them probably would have been notable. Fuck. He needed to get himself and two teens away from one of the most violent ghosts in the town, no weapons in sight. The cold in his chest seemed to flex, gently spreading through him.

“Oh fuck off, Vlad. We don’t have time for you today.” Sam spat, her prior gentleness buried in hate. She really was fearless.

Wait, Vlad? The ghost was named Vlad?

“Daniel always has time for me. Don’t you, son?” The ghost leered.

Even as Jack continued to feel like he was shattering, the ice within him moved, freezing the shards of himself in place, keeping him from fully falling into ruin.

“Not your son.” Jack managed. He didn’t know what had happened to Danny, what Danny was now. But Danny would always be his fucking child.

“Not yet,” the ghost cooed. “But soon. Your father won’t survive me forever. Not even with you as his guardian angel, little badger.”

Jack had yet again been verbally backhanded, more than once, as the ghost’s lips twisted into a cruel smile. This ghost was trying to kill him - Jack him - and steal his son.

And he knew who this ghost was.

Jack had always thought the little badger endearment was, well, endearing. But now it left a feeling of ash in his mouth.

How could this be Vlad? Jack’s Vlad, his first genuine friend in college. One of only two he had. His heart - apparently he still had an emotional one of those - felt like it had been torn from his chest. Still, no matter what Vlad had been to him, how much he had loved him like a brother, the feeling clearly didn’t go both ways. No matter how much it absolutely destroyed him, Vlad was no longer a friend. He was an enemy trying to steal Jack’s son away.

He pushed himself to his feet, even if his legs did shake some. “Go to hell.”

Vlad grinned, sadistic and vile. “I already have.” A pink ectoblast flew from his hand, nailing Jack square in the chest. He fell backwards, catching himself with his elbows, grass itchy against his skin.

Jack really wished he knew how to control whatever time shifting ability Danny apparently had, but he had no idea.

Vlad lazily threw up a shield as Tucker and Sam blasted at him, wrist rays smoking with each shot. “Danny, do something!” Sam shouted before she had to jump out of the way of a blast.

“I don’t have a weapon!” Jack shouted back as he caught thin, knife-like rays striking across his side, cutting deeply into him.

The ice in his chest suddenly burst. It encased him, consumed him. It was no longer the cold of a dead heart, Jack was the ice. Power he’d never felt before flared beneath his skin and he yielded to it, the power painlessly tearing through his skin, through his very being.

Jack watched as a circle of light pulsed out from inside him, travelled along him.

“You’re not Daniel.” Vlad said.

Jack stared at the white gloves that had appeared on him, the black jumpsuit, the white boots. “What?” He whispered, pulling at the fabric clinging to his chest so he could get a better look. There was no denying that symbol.

Jack’s entire world had absolutely gone to hell and yet he continued further, into the deeper circles, each new revelation a spear to his soul.

“Who are you?” Sam asked. Tucker warily raised his ray, now aiming at Jack. Yet he barely registered them, staring at Vlad.

Phantom’s powers, Jack knew. Phantom’s abilities were something Jack and Maddie had been studying for years. The thought of his wife gave a small twinge in his hurt wrist. He pushed that avalanche away for now. 

He’d happily let it bury him in shame later.

Jack willed his body into the air, floating level with his old friend. His fists clenched and green surrounded them.

“Stay the hell away from my son, Masters!” Jack shouted, ramming his hands into the ghost’s stomach. Apparently Vlad hadn’t been expecting this fake Phantom or whatever to be strong. Almost immediately, he had the upper hand, surprising the other ghost and then just not letting up, even as it devolved into Jack just repeatedly slamming his fists into the other’s face.

It didn’t last forever though, eventually Vlad blasting him in return and sending him flying. He slammed against a tree and slid down, bark angrily digging into him, until he crashed to the ground. Now it was Vlad who had successfully surprised his enemy, continually blasting Jack.

As much as it hurt, Jack felt so guilty. His son would eventually get his body back. And Jack hadn’t protected it. Jack wasn’t the one who would be suffering these bruises later. As Vlad continued his barrage, yelling insults the whole way, all Jack could do was throw his hands over his head, trying to form a shield with only a moderation of success.

Jack heard the roar of an engine, gravel being crushed under something heavy, metal doors slamming open.

“Ah, Daniel, I presume?” Vlad asked, granting Jack a brief reprieve, allowing him to look up.

As odd as seeing his sleeping body had been, seeing himself up and walking around from an outside perspective that wasn’t a recording felt deeply wrong. Maddie was also there, catching his eyes. He saw his pain mirrored there and he knew Maddie knew Danny’s truth now as well.

Danny stepped forward in his father’s body, hefting the blast bazooka onto his shoulder. Despite looking like death warmed over, he didn’t look weak or afraid. As sick as Jack knew he had been, Danny pushed through it like it was nothing.

“Stay away from my dad!” Danny shouted, firing the bazooka. “Tucker, now!”

Vlad’s - and Jack’s - attention had been entirely on the new arrivals. Neither of them had noticed Tucker slipping around behind Vlad.

Vlad reacted too late - he managed to catch the blast in a shield but the blue light of the Thermos caught him. Tucker slammed the cap on, twisting it shut. “It’s both infuriating and hilarious to me that Vlad keeps falling for that.” He said, dropping the device into his backpack.

“Dad?” He heard his own voice ask timidly. Danny was warily approaching him, slowly and cautiously, two things Jack himself had never been.

“Danno.” He said, forcing himself to stand even as his side twinged, cold ectoplasm bleeding down.

Danny seemed to relax some, hurrying towards his father. “Are you okay?” He asked, eyeing the injury on Jack’s side.

Jack nodded. “It’s your body, son. I’m just borrowing it. But I think I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry!” Both blurted out simultaneously after a short silence. Jack motioned for Danny to continue.

“I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I died. I’m sorry this is the way you had to find out.” Danny said. “Do I need to apologize for coming back? For coming back wrong?”

“No.” Jack said firmly, willing his body to float, lifting him until he was eye level with Danny. He wondered if it was as odd for Danny to stare into his own face as it was for Jack. Gently, he held Danny’s face, even though it was his own eyes looking back at him, misty with tears. “I am so sorry I ever made you believe that. I’m sorry I didn’t immediately wake you up when I realized what had happened. But I love you, Danny. I will always love you. You are my son, you understand? Dead or alive.” His voice cracked there. “But I love you so, so much, Danny. And I will spend the rest of my goddamn life proving it to you if I have to.”

Danny sobbed gently, throwing his arms around his father, and clinging to him in a hug. It wasn’t a hug Jack would normally give - bone breaking, all consuming. It was soft and light, it avoided the wounds Jack hadn’t stopped from littering his son’s body. Jack held onto his son just as tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as he cried, too.

For a moment, it felt like he was being pulled from the body, painlessly melting from his son’s form. As quickly as he melted, he was rebuilt.

The arms around him changed position, chilled him even through his clothes. Solid ground reappeared under his feet. The ache in his side fell away, the other wounds disappearing into mist. His throat became sore and itchy, fatigue settled into his very bones. A light weight was held against him.

Jack carefully pulled back. Phantom’s green eyes stared back at him, a relieved smile coming to both of their faces as, finally, they no longer eerily stared at themselves. “I love you, Danny.” Jack repeated, even as talking felt like gargling sharp gravel. But it didn’t matter, he needed Danny to hear this from his father’s voice, for once. “You’re safe.” 

“Are… are you two back in your own bodies now?” Maddie asked, approaching them as they separated. 

Jack just smiled and nodded, suddenly exhausted.

Phantom floated there, before gritting his teeth together and edging closer to her until he was only just beyond arm’s reach. “Yeah, mom.” He said. “I’m in my body. This is my body - this is who I am.”

Maddie smiled even as tears fell down her face. “I’m glad you’re back where you belong.” She said, holding out her hands to him. He came closer and reached for her, allowing her to pull him into a hug. “I love you, too. All of you.”

She was the first to pull away, though she didn’t release his hands. “I’m sorry, Danny. Just like your father. We never would have hunted Phantom if we’d known it was you. I’m sorry that we made life so hard for you that you had no way of knowing that. God, I’d do anything to take it all back. Every awful thing we’ve ever done or said.” She looked at his hand, the wrist he’d broken last night. “I’m sorry for the lengths you’ve had to go to in order to be safe from us.”

“I think we should all go home,” Jack said, glancing at the school. “Maddie, can you go check out Danny and Jasmine? I think today’s been hard enough.” His wife nodded, heading to do so.

Finally, he turned to Sam and Tucker. “I’m sorry I lied to you. But thank you. For keeping him safe all these years. I’m so grateful Danny has you two. And I promise both of you that he has two less people you need to keep him safe from.” His throat felt like it was layered with razors, but Danny had been fine. He could be strong enough for Danny, just long enough for the things that needed to be said.

“We love him too, Mr. F.” Tucker said, fidgeting with the he of his shirt.

“And we will always protect each other.” Sam added. The glare in her eyes was a warning, Jack knew. The two of them would make sure his parents kept to their word.

Jack really couldn’t ask for better friends for his son.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

“Wait a sec, Danny.” Tucker said. “He only knows you’ve died and he freaked about your human heartbeat.”

Jack looked at them curiously. Was there more?

Danny groaned slightly. “Great, I already had to explain halfas to mom today.” He leaned his head back and whined. Tucker and Sam laughed, waving their goodbyes.

“I don’t need to know everything immediately. We can wait until you’re ready.” Jack said, shivering slightly, both from fever and the cool day. Part of him didn’t want to know yet, wanted to go home and down some more cough medicine. His entire head hurt.

“Did you see the scar on my left hand?” Danny asked.

Jack nodded. “I don’t know how I never saw it.”

“Human eyesight isn’t good enough for it.” He explained, hovering closer and pulling off his left glove, facing his palm out towards Jack. “Look.”

He studied his son’s arm, the scar so much more visible now. It looked like long healed scar tissue, in the same pattern he’d been studying periodically all day. “Electrical injury.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah, I think the electricity might be why I’m the way I am, like, with what I’m about to show you. I mean, I already know it’s why I’m a ghost. But I… there’s a very long story for us to face when we get home. I don’t know how what I am works and I don’t think I want to. But I’m still half human. My human heart… it couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t get it back. I’m more than human, though. Ugh, I’m babbling. Here. Just… just feel for it.” He offered up his hand to his father.

Jack accepted, pressing his fingers to Danny’s wrist. He inhaled deeply as he did, blinking back tears.

As he felt, under ice cold skin, the gentle beating of his son’s heart.

[must-i-write-blog1]

V,

I wish I could tell you how much I love you.

I’ve been broken for so many years I couldn’t remember how it was to be whole again.

When we first met, I wasn’t looking for anyone, of course. I’d been in a long-term relationship for almost 7 years and so empty I never thought of it, of us cause I thought I wouldn’t be happy again.

But God had other plans. When I was about to give up on everything and staring at the sky asking for a star to light up my life, I saw your bright eyes.

I remember like it had just happened. We were sitting, talking and I had already felt so much joy on being around you that I wouldn’t stop looking at you. Then when I looked into your eyes it was like stargazing.

I remember the feeling of being near you, talking and listening to every word you said. I remember my mind was working really hard trying to think of nice things to tell you because I wanted to impress you.

I couldn’t remember many things.

I remember we were near each other but there was a friend between us and you made him trade sides with you. My heart started beating so fast.

I remember when we were in my car and you were driving and racing, I asked you to stop in total despair and you started laughing of me.

I remember how you looked stunning that day.

The day we had that first hug.

It was so tight, pure and connecting.

I felt like my soul had finally found what it’s been looking for 27 years.

I could never think of you as someone I would love so much.

But I do.

And I’ve been so hurt, neglected and invisible to the ones that’re supposed to love me, it makes me so scared of you leaving. I was so young when the pain had begun, I am forever afraid of being loved. I hope you’re patient with me.

And deep down, I know the day you're leaving will come.

I am trying to re-do my whole life to give you the better part of me, but it might take a while and I feel like you won’t wait for me.

I feel like you will lose interest.

I feel like you’ll be leaving and finding someone more interesting, more beautiful and funnier like you deserve.

I am so sorry, I wish I could be good enough for you.

I promise you, as long as you’re with me, I’ll do everything I can to be the best for you.

Always.

Please don’t leave me, ever!

I love you like I’ve never loved anyone, ever.

Forever yours,

F.

[clippedwingsmuses]

╭──────────.★..─╮ crownmun's drabbles --- k.01: somedays. muse: kieran verse: teal mask (post-ogerpon capture) notes: not thread/blog canon, written purely for fun description: after ogerpon's capture, kieran takes some time to think about how the last few days have been. it doesn't end as calmly as he might've liked. word count: 588 words ╰─..★.──────────╯

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somedays, kieran still finds himself walking the path up oni mountain. he used to do it all the time, back before everything went wrong. he stopped only because he got busy. somedays, he wishes he just ignored the world to walk up the stairs for longer.

when he reaches that clearing, he pauses only to think about the last time he was here. even though he's the only one here, he can still hear the remnants of battle playing out in front of him. he walks toward the entrance.

still silent.

still t h i n k i n g.

he pauses just beside the entrance. he stood here while it all happened.

he turns around, staring out at nothing. even still, he can almost see the glow of the masks ogerpon wore during that battle. even though her face was hidden, she seemed so h a p p y during it. he could tell. he had felt like that before, when battle actually seemed... f u n to him.

. . .

somedays, he feels like he's just overreacting. other days, he curses arceus. what god had he wronged that let everything fall apart in just the span of a few days? what had he done to u p s e t them? why did it have to be h i m . . . ?

he turns away from the shell of battle, and enters the darkness that engulfs the dreaded den. he could never imagine being comfortable in the darkness, in a space so cramped. weirdly though, he felt warmed by the cold in the small room, as though the walls were attempting to hold and console him.

he settled himself against the back wall, pulling his knees up to his chest. he held himself only because no one else would. those he had allowed to hold him were the same ones that broke him. as he sat in the shadows he felt so... small, and insignificant.

briefly, he wondered... was this how ogerpon felt when she was forced to stay here? he shut his eyes, hiding his face against his knees and hugging himself tighter. the longer he thought about her and all that had happened, the w o r s e he felt. but, it refused to leave his mind and infect another.

regardless of how hard he tried to escape the confines of his mind, and b r e a k the shackles the last events had placed on him, he couldn't. he just wasn't... strong enough for it. already he could feel tears pooling in his eyes, as night began to fall outside the den.

the shadows darkened around him, obscuring him completely. only in this pitch blackness could he feel like he could cry and be invisible. but crying didn't help him feel any better. in fact, it only made him want to cry harder and harder. it made him want to cry until dehydration had taken a hold of him, and his eyes were too tired to open.

he gripped his hair in his fists. his body was wracked with vicious sobs that made him sway, until he fell to one side against the floor.

...his body wanted him to cry, so he would listen to it.

. . .

somedays, life doesn't play out like you want it. regardless of what you do, and how hard you try, it will N E V E R work in your favor.

and at the end of the day it makes you wonder...

`` oh, why did it have to be me..? ``

[gretagerwigsmuse]

it’s here! this is going to be such a nice friday night treat for me these next few weeks! there were so many absolutely sweet and fluffy moments between them and so absolutely heartbreaking moments, as well! i’m so curious to see if she puts off telling him in the morning (the welcome home crew will be there bright and early i’m sure 😉) and to see if bradley has more of a clue as to what’s actually going on! more below 💕

“I think I love lying to him if it means I have him back.” - oh sweet girl!!

…you need to bake fast, and get over there to see if Bradley wakes up remembering anything new- er, old. You hope that he doesn’t, and then you hope that doesn’t make you a bad person. - i’m gonna say it again (and feel like i’m gonna be saying this a lot tbh) oh sweet girl!!! (also i love oatmeal raisin cookies)

Beyond the nerves you’re almost excited to pretend to be his girlfriend again, excited to live in the fantasy life you’ve created to preserve his peace of mind. You never thought you’d love to lie to him. - fuckkkkkkkk anytime she mentions something like this my heart clenches 🥺 sweet girl

There’s still time to soak in his love before he remembers, there’s still time to lose yourself in this fantasy. - this is so dreamy and pretty! and i love that bradley’s so clingy

Once you’ve kissed him you dot smaller ones across his face, heart soaring at the gentle laughter that spills from his lips as you do so. You kiss his nose, his cheeks, his chin, the space beside his eyes that’s wrinkled from years of laughter, and when his pretty brown eyes flutter shut, you go for the eyelids, too. - eeeeep i squealed!!! i’m so soft for this!!!

He breathes, incredulous like he's twelve and he can’t believe his crush actually likes him. He’s always had that sort of puppyish aura about him, like you’re not just his girlfriend, you’re his best friend, and he’s always happy you’re along for the ride. It’s probably why he holds your hand so frequently, like he is now. - yes yes yes!! this is exactly how i imagine bradley!! so sweet and kind and completely besotted! ugh i wish it was me

Again you wonder if he’s found mystifying evidence of your breakup, an unfollow on instagram or a deletion of date nights from the calendar. - oh my gosh can you imagine if he found something like that in the middle of the night? i know there’s no way that boy deleted ANYTHING and probably stared longingly at his camera roll before bed each night

You hadn’t held hands this frequently even when you’d been together, not that Bradley knows there’s a difference. - wait that’s so cute!!

He’s looking intently at your hand, though there's an absent-minded air about him, and your stomach drops when he ghosts his rough thumb gently over your ring finger. - see now this is interesting! it makes me wonder if he does remember? or if he thinks what actually happened was a dream he had while he was sleeping post accident?

He looks crushed. Really, truly crushed, his brown eyes holding such a vulnerable look in them that you feel like you’ve just punted a puppy across a football field……You’re scared about more than just that. You haven’t held him in weeks, nor has he held you. - oh 🥺🥺

“I love you,” You whimper, dropping the book to cage his head to your belly, “I love you, Bradley, I- I love you so much.” - genuinely cried at this part

There’s no picking up the pieces, no glue in the world strong enough to repair the bravery you’d mustered up to be honest with Bradley. - this is such a good line!!! i’m also so shocked she was going to tell him so soon! but yes i totally agree with her, it was already so hard to muster up the courage idk if i could do it again so soon

“And- and it feels so perfect! Like he knows exactly what I need to hear. Like I could tell him and nothing would change. But everything would change, and- and I don’t want that,” - oh sweet girl! he just knows her so well!?!? god i’m dying i can tell i’m gonna cry again later

He takes a pause, then, “I have something inappropriate to say. But your dad’s still here, so I can’t.” You let out a bark of bewildered laughter, especially when you can hear your dad’s voice in the background as he groans. - oh my god mav is too funny!! this is one thing i love about bradley x mitchell reader fics, the dynamic is always so fun

“…It’s your ring, he knows it. That’s why he kept it, ‘cause he still wanted you to have it. He loves you even if you did hurt him, baby,” She sniffles, and you feel bad that you’ve made her cry, “That’s what love is. Sometimes you hurt each other, but if it’s love you find your way back. And what you’ve got is the strongest love I’ve ever seen.” - i really love your depiction of carole in this series! she’s exactly how i imagined, she’s protective and smart, but she’s also got this edge to her too that says she doesn’t take shit (lovingly ofc) and her comment later about the puzzles is so funny

Bradley yanks you into his chest, almost tipping you forwards and himself backwards with the momentum of his hug. His chin nestles straight over your shoulder, as does yours to his, and it’s the kind of hug you get from him after a long deployment, maybe even more desperate now. - ughhhhh i know he gives the best hugs ☺️☺️ they’re so sweet with each other. and hugging is so underrated in fics, i absolutely melt at a nice long hug like this

There’s a moment of silence that Bradley lets follow your words, then he promises, “I’ll be there tonight. And every night after that.” - again! this makes me feel like he knows something?

“I can’t wash my hair,” He laments, “It hurts.” - YESSSSSS I WAS HOPING THIS WOULD HAPPEN!! i’m a sap (HA!) for this

“I just need you,” He breathes, clutching at your shoulders like they’ll recover his plane, “Just don’t leave, please.” - awwwwww bubs 🥺 it’s like his body still knows he hasn’t been around her lately but his brain just hasn’t caught up?

“Y/N,” He starts, and your heart rate spikes at just your name, “About earlier-” “Tomorrow.” You blurt, anguish rising in your chest, “Brad, can we- can we talk tomorrow? I’m not trying to hide from you,” You promise, but you’re nestled into his chest and muffling your voice, “I trust you with the way that I'm feeling, I just- I just want to sleep. I want to breathe for a minute. And we can talk tomorrow, is that okay?” He takes a moment to deliberate, really, truly thinking about it. While he does so, your hands tighten in his shirt, desperately clinging to him. But eventually he nods, disjointedly so into the crown of your head, “Okay.” His hands tighten around your waist as he speaks, and you melt into his embrace, scooting impossibly closer. “Okay, honey, we’ll talk tomorrow. Let’s just sleep.” - i had to highlight this entire part because i love it so much! and i know i’ve said it already but it’s like he knows and he also wants to put off the conversation? idk i’m so excited for the next part!!

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

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

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

WC: 16.1K / navigation / inbox

A/N: part two!! thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of the sweet, lovely feedback i got on part one, i was so happy you enjoyed the opening chapter!! this part gives some more backstory on reader+bradley, and i hope you like it just as much as you did the first! once more i'd love to hear your thoughts, thank you to everyone who said something wonderful and kind about the first part, it meant a lot to me. <3

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

Instead of your alarm, you wake up to a call from Carole. It’s 7:29, and when you raise the phone to your ear, your voice is gruff and achy with sleep.

“Hello?”

It feels just like yesterday. Yesterday, that comes flooding back to you in a barrage of awful memories. All that’s changed is the bed you’re in; you’re still alone. You almost miss Carole’s response because you’re slowly taking in everything that hits you like an anvil from above, but you catch the last word and can discern her meaning.

“-visit?”

“Yeah,” You rub your eyes, feeling tears already gathered there; a great way to start your morning.

“Yeah, I’ll visit,” You confirm, and your alarm buzzes against your head. You hastily shut it off and yawn, only inducing more tears and sighing as you speak again, “I’m gonna run to the store real quick, get some stuff for cookies. He convinced me to sneak them in.”

“That boy,” Carole huffs, and even half-asleep, you hear her voice laced with fondness for her son, “Alright honey. How y’doin’?”

“Um,” You ponder, truly unsure as your fingers pick at a stray thread on the blanket; you’d been meaning to replace it for months. “Okay. Not okay, but not- not as bad as yesterday. I think-” You swallow, throat convulsing, “I think I love lying to him if it means I have him back.”

She’s silent for a moment, letting your words sink into your own brain. You feel guilty for them, just like you feel guilty for leading Bradley on, pretending nothing is wrong when your entire lives have fallen apart. But she eventually responds with all of the kindness and love she has inside of her, which is a lot.

“I know, baby. And it’s okay, it’ll get better. It’ll turn out right.”

“I hope so,” You breathe shakily, wishing either her or your boyfriend (pretend boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend?) were there to rub soothing circles into your back. 

“I know so.” She promises, and she’s never promised something she couldn’t guarantee. You hope this isn’t her first strike, because her never-ending optimism miraculously lifts your dreary spirits until your chest doesn’t ache with a sob begging to break free. “Alright, baby doll, I’ll let’cha get to baking. I’m gonna see if they’ll let me sneak in early, I- Oh! Nurse,” She calls away from the phone, and you hear her move on the other end, no doubt chasing down a poor nurse that doesn’t want to get fired for letting her in before visiting hours. You hang up the call with a snort, fond of how her fierce love for those around her hasn’t faded in all the time you’ve known her.

Pulling yourself out of bed is hard, but you do it for Bradley. You’re sluggish as you traipse to the bathroom, using deodorant in place of a shower and brushing your hair back into a ponytail. Showers are for people who have the luxury of time, you need to bake fast, and get over there to see if Bradley wakes up remembering anything new- er, old. You hope that he doesn’t, and then you hope that doesn’t make you a bad person.

One of the things you love about the place you’d shared with Bradley is that it’s close to a shopping center with a grocery store. It means that you walk to the supermarket, sandals on your feet and ratty, day-old clothes still on. No one seems to mind when you grab a basket looking like you’ve risen from the dead, and you collect the ingredients for Bradley’s favorite cookies with a skillful, experienced hand. You haven’t paid for anything by card in a while, you’d used emergency cash for the motel, and you wonder if you’ve been locked out of your joint bank account. Probably not; if the state of Bradley’s place had been any indication, he wants you back. But you’re cautious using the card anyways, in case a big red screen comes to life on the monitor in front of you and tells you you’re a terrible girlfriend. Almost a terrible wife.

You’re glad that you don’t run into any of your neighbors on the walk back home, because you don’t want to explain why you look the way you do, nor do you want to burst into tears when they ask where Bradley and his car are. You keep your head down and avoid the trike on the front walkway, ducking back into the house without being spotted. 

Firing up the oven feels heavenly, maybe because you’ve been eating scraps of motel food for two weeks. It reminds you of all the times you’ve baked with Bradley, or, more like the times you’ve baked while Bradley steals pinches of sugar from the bowl or tries to lick the beater when there’s raw egg in the mixture, resulting in more batter in his mustache than in his mouth while you try wrestling the spatula out of his grip.

You go through the oatmeal raisin motions absentmindedly; a master at your craft. It frees up brainpower to reminisce, and you sort through a mental file cabinet to find your favorite memory of baking with Bradley.

--

“I want to try the vanilla,” Bradley reaches for the teaspoon in your hands, and you jerk it away, thankful that it isn’t full of the brown liquid yet.

“Absolutely not,” You laugh, “Brad, it’s gross by itself. It’s like eating straight cocoa powder, it’s meant to be mixed in with something.”

He pouts, he actually pouts, a man of 36. The expression has his mustache hanging over his lower lip and you can’t help but giggle at it, leaning in to kiss the prickly hair on his face.

“You’ll have a cookie to eat soon,” You promise him, dumping a teaspoon of vanilla extract into the mixing bowl. He plays satisfied with your answer, but when you turn your back to fold the mixture in on itself with a spatula, you hear rustling behind you, then the click of a cap, and a muffled gag.

“I told you,” Your voice is sing-song-y, and you turn amusedly to watch Bradley duck under the sink’s faucet, rinsing his mouth out of the bitter taste. He’s scowling when he comes back up for air, water dripping from his mustache as he crosses his arms.

“I thought it would be good.” He mutters, and you nod, humming as a bit of batter smears over your thumb from the spatula.

“That’s because you didn’t listen to me,” You lament, “I know everything, Brad. You should just listen to me, always.”

“Oh yeah? Alright, share some wisdom with me, Almighty One,” He teases, pushing off of the counter to join you at your own, “What should I do?”

He moves with his arms crossed, standing just close enough that you know the only answer you can give.

“Mm,” You pretend to deliberate, really leaning into it with a few contemplative taps at your chin, “Kiss me.”

He gasps dramatically, which is the way that he does most things, “Excellent idea. You really do know everything.”

“Mhm,” You nod, craning your neck up as Bradley leans down to kiss you, “I told you. Listen to me all the time.”

“I will,” He promises, “Quick, tell me we should have sex.”

“Bradley!” You gawp, an incredulous laugh oozing out from your chest, leaving behind a snail trail of joy, “You’re insatiable! We’ve already gone twice today.”

“Mm, can’t help it,” He tsks, backing you into the counter and kissing you once more. His lips press firmly to yours, his hands at your waist caging you into his embrace, “Honey, you taste much sweeter than that vanilla shit.”

--

When you come to, you’re putting the cookies in the oven. You’re alarmed at how zoned out you’d been, but evidently you hadn’t burned the place down, and you shut the oven door, setting a timer on the microwave. You tackle the dishes next, using the time that the cookies bake to tidy up your work station. The dough comes easily off of the mixing bowl and the melted butter drips over your fingers before you scrub it away, still slightly warm from the microwave. There’s only a few plates in the sink that you hadn’t dirtied, and you wonder if Bradley had washed and dried dishes while you were away. Or maybe this was it, four plates of food in two weeks. You’d been treating yourself that way, but it’s heartbreaking to know Bradley had, too.

You try warding off your incoming bout of sniffles by retreating back to your bedroom, choosing a new outfit to wear to the hospital. If you show up in the same thing, Bradley might worry about you, and you don’t want him thinking you were too sluggish to pull yourself together for him. You’re hurt, wounded and scarred with lashes over your heart, but he’s the one with the broken ribs and the lost memories, so you need to play the part of the strong one; the uninjured one.

He can’t know you’re hurting in case he asks why.

Your shower is quick, and you try not to think about Bradley in case you succumb to the urge to cry. Of course, it’s impossible to chase the thoughts from your head, and the feeling of your fingers scratching shampoo through your scalp turns into the feeling of Bradley’s. The hand that slides down your side suddenly isn’t your own anymore, it’s a memory of his. A ghost of him, a whisper against your skin of ‘I promise, baby. You won't lose me’.

You hope more than anything that promise stays true.

You get yourself ready to go with more zeal than you’ve felt in the past two weeks. You’re taking the bus today, to cut down on gas money, and you’re sure you’ll spend the whole time worrying. You’re nervous about seeing Bradley, but it’s a few minutes past eight-thirty and you’re sure if he’d regained his memories, Carole would have notified you. Beyond the nerves you’re almost excited to pretend to be his girlfriend again, excited to live in the fantasy life you’ve created to preserve his peace of mind. You never thought you’d love to lie to him.

You’re much more put together today when you greet the receptionist, and you're not sure you could forget the way to his room if you tried. There’s a bag of the oatmeal raisin cookies hidden in your purse and you slip into the room just as a doctor leans over him to take his temperature.

You adore the way Bradley smiles at you. His eyes meet yours as you stand in the doorway, previously cautious and now elated that he seems to like you still. His face lights up and he calls, ‘Baby,’ alerting the nurse to your presence.

“Miss Mitchell!” The woman greets you, the one who’d brought Bradley’s dinner last night. 

“Hi,” You gush, a laugh bubbling up in your chest that’s made of pure elation. It’s a sickly sweet sound, one that you thought you’d never be able to make again after leaving Bradley. You rush to kiss him when the nurse leans away, scribbling down his temperature on his chart.

He lifts his hand to cup your cheek when you kiss him and the tears that line your eyes are happy ones; there’s still time. There’s still time to soak in his love before he remembers, there’s still time to lose yourself in this fantasy.

You take a moment to breathe after the kiss, doing so against his lips. He does the same, and you bask in each other’s presence, noses brushing and foreheads pressed together. Skin-on-skin, love-on-love.

“His heartbeat really did speed up,” Carole marvels, and you scramble to greet her, guilty that she’d slipped your mind in the rush of emotions you felt.

“Hi! Hi, sorry,” You stammer, wrapping her in a hug while she waves away your apologies.

“No worries, baby!” She squeezes your shoulders, beaming at you. You’re sure she’s thrilled you showed up, and you know Bradley is too from the way he grabs for your hand when you sit by his bed. He’s always been a touchy guy, his hands are never idle, but he’s never been quite this clingy before. It’s good, it helps ground you, and it’s what you need after a two-week bender in a motel.

“Brad,” You coo, unable to resist kissing him again when he turns his head to face you in the bed. He looks more comfortable today than he had yesterday, no more breathing tube or pale skin. There’s dark circles under his eyes, but you’re sure he’s still shaken up from the crash, and you’ll make sure he gets to sleep nice and early tonight.

If you’re able to.

Once you’ve kissed him you dot smaller ones across his face, heart soaring at the gentle laughter that spills from his lips as you do so. You kiss his nose, his cheeks, his chin, the space beside his eyes that’s wrinkled from years of laughter, and when his pretty brown eyes flutter shut, you go for the eyelids, too. You savor each one because you know it could be your last, and when he strokes the back of his hand along your cheek, you lean into the touch.

“Pretty girl,” He hums, and you feel your cheeks get hot. Newly showered, you felt more put-together than you’d been before, but you’d spent the past two weeks in a pigsty of your own creation, so the compliment means more than he knows.

Apparently, he feels your cheeks grow hot, too. His fingers pick up on the warmth and he laughs again, this time only a normal amount of raspiness clinging to the sound., He’s hyper-affectionate, taking his chance to dot kisses over your features for a change. The giddiness in your chest as his lips press to your skin, mustache prickling it, makes it feel like your heart will burst. You feel undeserving as he showers you with the affection you’ve missed so much, but you’re greedy so you take it anyways, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Carole was taking pictures of you in secret.

“I have some good news,” The nurse reports, and you turn at her voice. She’s angled towards Carole, obviously having meant to leave you and Bradley be in your couple’s reverie, but when she notices that she has your attention too, she speaks to the group.

“Nothing abnormal was documented during your stay here,” She reads off of her chart, “It’s just the concussion and the broken ribs, which is remarkable for the accident you were in. You’re very lucky, Mr. Bradshaw. There was some smoke inhalation from the crash site but that’s not a major issue anymore, and if everything remains stable until dinnertime, you can go home tonight.”

“Oh!” Carole squeals, clapping delicately with her hands in her lap, “That’s fantastic!’

Bradley seems equally pleased, smiling wide, and it takes a lot of willpower to mirror his expression. He knocks his nose into your cheek and you feel his grin against your jaw, so you bring a hand up to scrub through the hair at the back of his neck.

“That’s great,” You conclude weakly, blaming the lull in your voice on being so close to Bradley and not wanting to talk too loud. Carole eyes you nervously, though, trying to mask the worry in her eyes with a smile.

“You should still rest,” The nurse advises, “Those ribs won’t be healed for close to a month, maybe more. And you can sleep through most of the concussion, too. What’s good about going home is it’ll be familiar to you, and it might help trigger those memories you’ve lost. They’re still not back?”

“Nope,” Bradley shakes his head, keeping it pressed to yours, “I got nothin’.”

“Alright,” The nurse hums sympathetically, tucking the chart into a cubby by the door, “We’ll bring lunch at around one, Mr. Bradshaw.”

“Thank you!” Carole calls after the nurse as she leaves, then she stands in her flowy skirt, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her shoulders.

“Miss Y/N,” She beams, “Bradley’s already had his breakfast. Have you eaten?”

“Uh, no,” You shake your head, “Not yet. Are you going to get something?”

“I am,” She nods, shouldering her purse, “Would you like some hospital pancakes, baby doll?”

“Here,” You stand, but Bradley grabs your hand, keeping you close to his bedside, “I can-”

“You can sit down,” Carole narrows her eyes at you, teasingly menacing, “Sit your butt back in that chair and be with your boyfriend, honey! I can manage two to-go boxes.”

“Thank you,” You gush, settling back into your seat and squeezing Bradley’s hand. He doesn’t let up on his heavy grip until you’re planted in your seat, and even when he does loosen his fingers he still holds you. Carole winks at you when you leave, and Bradley’s attention is solely on you the second the door shuts.

“Y/N,” He murmurs, and sometimes you forget your name isn’t baby or honey around him. You turn, now a little more nervous to be there now that your buffer is gone.

His big brown eyes are oozing their signature sweetness, a golden glint in them under the lights of the hospital room. He looks healthier now, even though you know his ribs hurt, and you’re oh-so-happy to have your Bradley back.

“I missed you,” You confess, and his face breaks into a grin. He nods, leaning up to kiss you, and you close the gap so that he doesn’t have to strain his probably sore muscles.

“I missed you, too,” He breathes, and you kiss him over and over and over again until you think you might be stealing the breath from his lungs. You let up, if only to keep him healthy, otherwise you’d never stop.

“I wasn’t sure when you were coming,” His lips close momentarily around your lower one while yours frame his top in a sweet peck.

“The cookies needed time to bake,” You lament, your mouth slightly dewy from his kiss, “Sorry, babe. I would have come faster, I- I should have gotten up earlier, but-”

“You’re here now,” He cuts off your worries, the heated skin of his face pressing against yours like he’s trying to stick to you, “That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah?” You hum dazedly, drunk on his love, “What about the cookies, do those matter?”

His eyes widen in consideration and he tilts his head to the side, mouth scrunching in a thoughtful frown, “Yeah, those matter too. Oatmeal raisin?”

“Oatmeal raisin,” You promise, digging through your purse, “Are you still on the hospital diet?”

“Honey,” He declares, sounding like his father's son as pride prickles his mustache, “I’d eat your cookies even if they killed me. Lay one on me, sugar.”

You snort at his cocky drawl, withdrawing a cookie from the bag in your purse. You break a piece off, hand-feeding him like his arms are still weak.

“Speaking of sugar,” You muse, stealing a bite of the treat for yourself and speaking with it pinched between your teeth, “I was thinking about baking together earlier. It was awful being alone, there was no one to eat the sugar out of the bowl.”

“Or drink the vanilla extract,” He cracks, and you laugh with glee.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking of!” You gush, taking his hand once more and squeezing it, “You gagged.”

“I don’t know! I just thought it’d taste good! I love vanilla,” He laments, only fuelling more laughter from you. 

“Yeah, well you got a lot of it,” You chuckle, “Anyways, it was weird not having you there. I had to do the dishes all by myself.”

“Poor baby,” He croons, half sincere and half teasing. He strokes a hand down your cheek that you yearn to kiss, but it goes by too fast, “How’d you manage?”

“I thought about you,” You confess, and some of that amusement in his eyes dims, giving way to complete and total admiration.

“Yeah?” He breathes, incredulous like he's twelve and he can’t believe his crush actually likes him. He’s always had that sort of puppyish aura about him, like you’re not just his girlfriend, you’re his best friend, and he’s always happy you’re along for the ride. It’s probably why he holds your hand so frequently, like he is now.

“Yeah,” You nod, flipping his palm in yours and tracing over the lines etched into it, “It’s not home there without you, Brad.”

“We go back tonight,” He smiles, keeping his voice low so that it doesn’t shatter the serenity around you, “Together.” You notice a sheen of tears over his eyes and you fall in love with him all over again, unable to hold yourself back from admiring how much he loves you. You really, really don’t know how you fucked this up.

“Yeah,” You croak, smiling weakly down at his hand instead of into his eyes, “Together.”

“Breakfast,” Carole sings, propping the door open with her foot as she steps inside. Your heads turn in sync, and you see her holding two plates, both covered with plastic lids. “Miss Y/N, three pancakes for you, and there’s syrup for days.”

“Thank you,” You rush to help her, and some piece of your heart stays in Bradley’s palm when you drop it. You suspect you won’t get it back unless he forgives you eventually, or maybe he’ll keep it even if he does. You trust him with it, he’ll take care of it.

You wish you'd offered him and his heart the same courtesy.

Carole hands you your breakfast and takes a seat on Bradley’s opposite side, caging him in between his two girls.

“You want some, baby?” Carole croons at Bradley, but he shakes his head.

“No thanks, ma,” He clears his throat, turning to face you with a puppy-eyed look that he’s had mastered since age three, “But I would love another bite of cookie?”

“Oh, take it,” You grumble, handing over the baked good for Bradley to devour, “But if your blood sugar rises, or something, it’s not my fault.”

“Won’t tell a soul,” Bradley promises, a mouthful of oatmeal raisin already impairing his speech, “Thanks, honey.”

“Mm-hm,” You nod, your mouth similarly stuffed with food. The pancakes are good, considering they came from a cafeteria that also serves tuna and jell-o.

“Y/N, baby,” Carole calls just as much sugar in her voice as is in her breakfast, “Pass me that syrup?”

She’s asking for a container you’ve got in your hand, half-empty. She doesn’t want to open a new one and waste the contents, so you pass it over, but a drizzle drips off of the side and lands on Bradley’s chin. 

He rears his head back as it falls, but he can’t burrow far enough into the pillow to dodge it. You squeal through your mouthful, swallowing quickly and painfully to rush out an apology you’re sure he doesn’t care about receiving.

“Sorry, Brad.” You curse your clumsiness, grabbing for a napkin but getting a better idea instead. You stand and lean over him to kiss the syrup off of his chin, feeling his face split into a grin while your lips are still attached to it. You can't keep a smile off of your face either, licking your lips clean of the stickiness.

“Cuties!” Carole giggles, just as giddy of a grin on her face as is on yours and Bradley’s. You’re sure she’s ecstatic to see you getting along so well, glad to know your acting isn’t just that.

“I was telling Bradley earlier,” You speak disjointedly through a mouthful of syrupy pancakes, “When I was baking his cookies, I was thinking about the times we’ve baked together. Wanna tell’er what you did, Brad?”

“Oh,” He groans, “No. Not fair, baby, I’m bed-ridden. I’m dying,” He sticks a protective hand over his ribs, now magically unable to lift his head from the pillow, “You can’t tell embarrassing stories of me to my mom.”

“I didn’t! I offered you the chance to tell it,” You roll your eyes, wary as you hear a nurse pass by the door. Bradley’s cookie is in plain sight, and he stuffs it into his mouth for safekeeping as the footsteps pass. No one comes in, though, and he struggles to finish his mouthful.

“Oh,” Carol gushes, “Somebody tell me! I wanna know, y’know I love teasin’ you, Brad.”

“Mom!’ He gawps through a mouthful of oatmeal, “Rude!”

“What’s rude is talkin’ with your mouth full,” Carole scolds, swatting him on the shoulder, “Swallow first, mister.”

“He ate-” You start, but Bradley lunges for you with impressive agility, twisting his torso to the side to clamp a hand over your mouth. You laugh, long and loud and brash while Bradley tries to muffle it. In his haste to silence you he tries saying ‘No!’ but he’s still got a mouthful of cookie, and the crumbs that don’t get caught in his mustache rain over your legs.

You’re still laughing. It’s messy, it’s gross, there’s half-chewed cookie on your lap, but Bradley’s holding you close, his strong arms around your head while he keeps a tight grip on your mouth. He’s laughing too, chest shaking as he tries powering through the mouthful of food that he’s got. Finally he swallows, but he doesn’t let go, only blows fruitlessly at the crumbs littering your pants.

“I’m sorry,” He pants, short of breath from chuckling, “If you hadn’t been so hellbent on embarrassing me, I wouldn’t have spewed raisins into your pancakes.”

“Gross! Okay!” You laugh uncontrollably into his palm between giggles, kissing at the skin there, “Okay. You win.”

He lets up only when you stop struggling, letting yourself sink into his embrace no matter how uncomfortable. A thought prods at the back of your mind like a lightning rod, sending a jolt of pain down your spine when it reminds you that this isn’t real. But you push it away, you don’t let it paralyze you, and your smile never falls.

“I’m sorry,” You hum to Bradley, while Carole watches you with amusement dancing in her pretty eyes, as well as in her movie star smile, “I just thought your mom would have liked to hear. That’s all.”

“She would,” Bradley nods, leaning back in his bed, finally at ease, “That’s why you can’t tell her.”

“You’re no fun,” She groans, and you finish up the last of your pancakes, gathering all of the trash (and cookie crumbs) to put them in the can. You have to let go of Bradley’s hand to make it across the room but when you’re by the door you stay there, your boyfriend’s eyes trained on you like a hawk.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” You reach for the doorknob, then, while he can't reach you, “Carole, he ate vanilla extract.”

The nurse down the hall gives you a strange look as you rush to shut the door on both Bradley’s indignant shout and Carole’s gleeful giggles.

“Does he need help?” He looks at you skeptically, and you shake your head.

“We’re teasing him,” You brush the nurse’s concerns away, “Where’s the gift shop?”

True to your word, you stop by the bathroom, but your real destination is the gift shop. There’s a stuffed bear inside with fur the exact caramel shade of Bradley’s hair, and you only wish it had a mustache. Otherwise, it’s identical, flight gear on and aviators over its eyes. 

“Hi,” You greet the cashier at the counter, handing over the bear and a book you plan on reading to him in your downtime, “Just these.”

While she rings up your purchase you hear the sliding doors behind you open, and you turn to see your dad and Nick enter. Their faces light up at the sight of you, and when the cashier gives you back the bear, you show it off to them.

“Just gotta get it a mustache,” Nick tugs softly on one of the bear’s ears, “Now that’s a good lookin’ bear!”

“I was gonna get’im a movie to watch,” Your dad beelines for the DVDs, but you pull him back.

“Dad,” You murmur, walking him and Nick towards the door, “He can just use his phone. Everything here is way too expensive.” You throw a kind smile at the cashier like you hadn’t just insulted her trade, “Thank you!”, and lead the way back to Bradley’s room.

The elevator ride almost goes sour when Nick tries pushing all of the buttons at once. You’re not sure how Carole has survived living with him for this long, but you swat his hands away with an incredulous shout.

“Don’t! I wanna get these back to him,” You beg, bear and book in hand, “I’ll bet he’s so bored.”

“You seen him already?” Your dad raises a brow, and you nod.

“Carole’s there, too,” You hum, “We just finished breakfast.”

“Does he ‘member anything new?” Goose asks, and that little lightning rod comes back, tazing your brain, burning one word into the matter there; liar, liar, liar. All of a sudden the elevator is too small, and you’d rather be anywhere but.

“Nope,” You shake your head, turning to face the doors of the elevator that ding, “Nothing.”

“Bradley!” Nick cheers, seeing his son alive and well, “Made it through the night?”

“Barely. Spent more time on my phone than I did asleep,” Bradley scoffs, and your heart skips a beat, not in a good way. Again you wonder if he’s found mystifying evidence of your breakup, an unfollow on instagram or a deletion of date nights from the calendar.

You’re sure he would have brought something up if he was confused, but you’re sneaking around, and it makes you paranoid enough to believe everything will fall apart at a moment’s notice. You have no peace, not when Bradley isn’t holding you.

“Well you’re going home tonight,” Carole reminds him, stroking over his cheek fondly, “You’ll get some good rest there, Brad.”

“Hey, alright!” Your dad whoops, “They’re cuttin’ you loose?”

“After dinner,” Bradley nods, “They said if nothing weird happens I can leave.”

“Congrats, Brad.” Nick claps him on the shoulder, standing in front of the seat you’d abandoned to go get his gifts.

His gifts!

You fumble with the bag in your hands, pulling the bear out first and passing it over.

“Oh, baby,” Bradley laughs, admiring its miniscule flight gear, “Bear’s almost as handsome as me.”

“Nah, a little more.” Pete squints at it, “It doesn't have that ugly mustache.”

“Hey!”, Father and son rage in unison, and Nick slaps your dad’s arm hard enough for Bradley, too.

“Uh, Carole,” You murmur, but the soft sound catches Bradley’s attention anyways. He’s drawn to you like a fly to honey, stuck in every last drop of your sweetness.

“I need to ask your mom a favor,” You smile down at Bradley, brushing hair away from his eyes, “Can we slip out?”

“Okay,” He hums skeptically, “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise,” You drag your voice out dramatically, leaning down to peck at his forehead. His skin is warm to the touch, and feels comforting against your lips.

“We’ll keep’im busy,” Nick declares, taking the book that you hand him, “Want me to read to you, Brad?”

“No.”

“Too bad! Ooh, Little Women. Wanna do voices with me, Mav?”

You and Carole step out before Nick or your dad could pull out any high-pitched giggles, and Bradley’s mom looks at you worriedly.

“What is it, baby doll?”

“I need help,” You confess, “If Bradley’s coming home tonight, he’s gonna notice a hell of a lot of stuff missing from our place. I just took everything I could grab and I ran,” You recall, dry swallowing at the thought of the boxes piled into your motel room, “I can’t put everything back by myself, and I- I don’t want to force you to help, but my dad and NIck can’t know, and-”

“Slow down, sugar,” She hums, reaching out to rub a soothing hand up and down your arm, “I’ll help you. What do we got, clothes and shoes?”

“And books, and toiletries, and... puzzles.” You concede drearily.

“Baby,” Carole arches a brow, looking almost sympathetically at you, “You brought puzzles with you?”

“I thought I’d be bored!” You reason, shoulders stiff to your ears, “But I haven’t had much of an appetite for puzzling.”

“Alright, I’ll help you,” She promises, “How long are we gonna need, honey?”

“A few hours,” You shrug, “We can carpool to base, I’ll pick up his Bronco, and we can head to the motel I’ve been at to get my stuff. We’ll need the extra space in the back of his car.”

“Okay! Okay,” Carole gushes, and you think she’s almost a little exhilarated by this spy operative, “Let’s stay for lunch, then we’ll go. We’ll say- uh, the house needs cleaning!”

‘Perfect,” You rub at your temples, “Thanks, Carole. And- and we’ll buy party decorations,” You snap your fingers, “I told him we were out here talking about a surprise, so we’ll throw a little welcome home thing tomorrow, have cake or something. That’s our alibi.”

“Got it! I’m off to the bathroom,” She heads down the hallway, “Get back in there!”

“-told you, I’m Jo!” Your dad is standing squared to Nick, eyes narrowed and shoulders tight, “It’s not fair that you get to be everyone!”

“Well if you did the voices right, I wouldn’t have to take over everything,” Nick huffs, “Tell’im Brad, that was a shitty Beth impression!”

“Both of you suck,” Bradley drawls, his eyes tracking you intently as you slip back into the room, “Baby, you okay?”

You shake off any residual nerves from your scheming with Carole, nodding as light-heartedly as you can, “Yeah! Yeah, Brad,” You take your seat beside him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tight, “I’m okay.”

He doesn’t look like he believes you. He's always good at reading you, and everything about you right now is a lie. You smile at him, leaning in to kiss his cheek, but he doesn’t react like you want him to, he still doesn’t believe you. He studies you when you pull away, and you laugh in defeat, “I promise, I’m just exhausted from all of this. But that shouldn’t matter, I wasn’t the one whose jet crashed! As soon as we get you home I’ll be fine.”

That seems to work, clearing away the worry swirling in Bradley’s honey-colored eyes. He nods, smiling softly, “Yeah, me too.”

He takes your hand, and you’re starting to wonder how you’d ever survived without holding his. You hadn’t held hands this frequently even when you’d been together, not that Bradley knows there’s a difference. Your heart aches for the man beside you, how shaken up he must be to cling to you like a lost puppy.

While Nick and Pete argue you feel Bradley’s fingers slip from yours, and it’s such an unexpected motion that you turn to watch him. He’s looking intently at your hand, though there's an absent-minded air about him, and your stomach drops when he ghosts his rough thumb gently over your ring finger. 

“Brad?” You murmur, trying to keep from choking up, “‘Love you.”

He smiles, eyes trained back on yours and full of tenderness, “Love you too, sweetheart. Where’s my mom?”

“Bathroom,” You drop your eyes down to his hands, studying his own bare ring finger. You hope you get to see it decorated one day.

“Do you want me to read to you?” You look back up at him, your nose nearly bumping his cheek. Nick has left the book on the side table near the foot of Bradley’s bed in order to gesture with both hands, and you’re sure they wouldn’t notice if you lit it on fire where it sat.

“I’d love for you to read to me,” Bradley laughs breathily, “I haven’t been hearing your voice much lately. Not like I used to.”

“I know,” You lament, hoping your voice doesn’t tremble. You know he means unobscured, private, without beeping in the background and the ever-present threat of a nurse coming in to kick you out, but you hadn’t heard Bradley’s voice in weeks, so you understand the internal yearning.

“Come here,” Bradley suggests when you fetch the book, offering up the right side of his bed. It’s small, nothing you wouldn’t attempt at home but something you don’t want to risk in the hospital.

“No, it’s okay, Brad.” You shake your head, trying to pat the blankets down around him but he doesn’t let you, reaching for your thigh.

“No, I don’t wanna hurt you!” You insist, standing when he tries dragging you into the bed with him, “It’s okay, Brad, let’s just sit. We can be closer when we’re home, but for now I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He looks crushed. Really, truly crushed, his brown eyes holding such a vulnerable look in them that you feel like you’ve just punted a puppy across a football field.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” You repeat, swallowing thickly as tears prick at your eyes. You lean down to kiss his forehead, “I’m scared, Bradley.”

You’re scared about more than just that. You haven’t held him in weeks, nor has he held you. You’re afraid that you might never recover from this, but if he wraps his arms around you, buries his face in your hair and holds you close, you know you never will. You’ll spend the rest of your days living in regret, and your self-preservation instinct is kicking in again.

“Don’t be afraid,” Bradley murmurs, though he doesn’t need to be quiet now that Nick and your dad have stopped bickering. They’re stealing sneaky glances at the two of you, acting like their sunglasses stop them from being noticed even though their heads are turned towards you.

His words strike something within you that he didn’t mean for them to. He’s spoken unknowingly to your outstanding promise with yourself, that you won’t run away because something is scary. And your promise to Carole, as well, that you’ll make her son feel loved before he remembers that love wasn’t enough to make you stay.

“Bradley,” You breathe, book in one hand as you use the other to stroke through his hair. You’re standing at his bedside and he takes advantage of your proximity, sitting up and off of his pillows to lean his head against your stomach. 

You’re glad he can’t see your face, because tears rush from your eyes in seconds. He’s a sweet man whose brain operates on love first, and thought second, so when he hooks his arms around your waist and nestles his face into your tummy, you know it’s his instinct to hold you. 

At the sight of your tears the other men in the room decide to take their leave, smiling sadly at you while you comb your fingers through Bradley’s hair. 

“We’ll give you some time,” Your dad whispers, but Bradley can hear just fine, “Bye, honey.”

You aren’t able to offer them a wave in response, but they know you appreciate it. 

Once more the sterile hospital room is inhabited by only you and Bradley. Souls intertwined, tangled in some places and parallel in others, you hold him, stroking through his hair and praying he never picks his face up out of your stomach. There’s snot threatening to run down your lip but you don’t dare sniffle at the thought of ruining the moment, keeping your chest deathly still where it yearns to shake with sobs.

“I love you,” You whimper, dropping the book to cage his head to your belly, “I love you, Bradley, I- I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” He speaks into your stomach, and the sound vibrates through your body, warming you with a tingly sensation like the one you’d gotten from your very first kiss with Bradley.

You’re sure he knows you’re crying now, now that your voice drips with tears and your hands shake in his scalp. He doesn't break away, though, only tugs you closer, keeping his face nestled to your body as he pulls you into a sitting position on his lap. You’re mindful of his broken ribs, but there’s nothing wrong with his thighs, so when you land on top of them, you let yourself rest there. 

Bradley’s wormed his nose against your cheek, no longer snug in your stomach but flush to your face instead. He holds you like he used to, before you spooked and ran, before he fell out of the sky in a blaze of flames, before anything in your life was complicated. He holds you like he held you when you were just Y/N and Bradley, cradling your face to his chest and tucking his chin over your head.

“You’re hurting, too,” He murmurs, rocking you ever-so-slightly back and forth as you sit sideways on his lap. He keeps you tucked to his chest, smooths your hair with one hand and holds your waist with the other. 

“I’m the one that went down but you’re the one who got that phone call,” He moves his hand from your hair to your back, scratching aimlessly there, “You’re allowed to be upset over that. You don’t have to pretend like nothing is wrong just because I’m in the hospital. I don’t want you to pretend to be strong if it’s only gonna make you weaker. Talk to me, honey, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t!” You wail, clutching his hospital gown and praying you aren’t hurting his ribs, “Bradley, I- I can’t tell you. I can’t do that to you, not here, not now. I’m scared,” You weep, “I’m really scared, Bradley.”

“Don’t be. You’re okay,” He promises, pecking a soft kiss against the crown of your head, “Baby, you’re safe with me. You don’t have to be scared of anything. Of talking, or feeling, or hurting. That’s what I’m here for, angel, to talk with you, to feel with you, to hurt with you. That’s what love is, honey, and I love you, you know I do.”

His voice wobbles slightly on the last fragment of his sentence, and you don’t think you can handle seeing him cry. You’re terrified out of your mind, but determined just the same not to run, and it’s stuck you in this awful paralyzed state. All you can do is hold Bradley, all you can do is let him hold you, and hope that his memories never return.

“I don’t want to stress you out,” You mourn, picking your head up from his chest to press it to his face instead. You want to fuse yourself to him, so that he couldn’t cast you away if he tried.

“I’m stressed about whatever you’re not telling me,” He laughs sadly, a soft huff of air from his chest, “Baby, it makes me stressed knowing you’re shutting yourself in like this. Knowing there’s stuff going on up here that you don’t want to talk to me about.” 

He taps your head, then smooths his hand down the nape of your neck to rub at your back.

“Tell me,” He begs, voice raw with despair, “Please, angel, tell me what you’re feeling.”

You owe him the truth. Concealing the truth was one thing. Sneaking around, covering up behind his back so that he didn’t notice anything peculiar was a preventative measure. But now he’s asked for your honesty, now it’ll be lying if you don’t tell him. Now you’ll be lying to him, really and truly lying to him, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. You choose honor this time, sniffling hard and bracing your hand on his chest so that you can look him in the eyes if you feel brave enough.

“Bradley,” Your words roll off of your tongue with the weight of steel, and you have to force them out of your throat to get them to go at all, “I want to be honest with you. But I’m scared-” Your face crumples, and you fight to right it, “But- but that’s not fair to you. It’s not fair for me to shut you out, You’re right, you-” You falter, the pitch of your voice wobbly as you take a deep breath, “You love me. And I know I can be honest with you.”

“You can,” Bradley promises, stroking his knuckles over your cheek. He stares into your eyes, and you stare into his only to get a last glimpse of their sweet honey-like hue.

“You should know,” You drop your eyes, unable to confess while looking into his, “I love you, Bradley. I always have, and I always will.”

“I love you, too,” He promises, “Now what’s the matter, honey?”

“It’s-”

“Mr. Bradshaw?” A nurse steps into the room, and instantly the moment is shattered. There’s no picking up the pieces, no glue in the world strong enough to repair the bravery you’d mustered up to be honest with Bradley. 

He looks annoyed at her interruption, something you know he wouldn’t normally feel towards anyone doing their job, but he refrains from snapping at her.

“Yes?”

“We need to run some vital tests. Blood sugar, heart rate, breathing, the like. After they’re cleared, we’ll know if you can return home or not.”

From his hold on you, you gather that there’s nothing Bradley would rather do less in the world than let you go, and there’s nothing you’d rather do less than let him, but you peel away from him reluctantly, standing where you’d been tucked into his lap. He settles back against his pillows that you’re sure are cold now, and you tuck the blanket beneath his thigh to keep him warm.

He ducks his gaze and you see tears lining his eyes that you want to wipe away, but he grabs for your hand again, and you hope that’s enough for him.

The nurse pokes and prods at him, reads machines and scribbles their information down, and the door opens once again before she’s done conducting her tests. Carole, Nick, and Pete step back through the doors, smiling sheepishly at you. You have a sneaking suspicion that Nick and your dad had held Carole off from coming back to the room while you spoke, which you’re grateful for. You just wish you'd had a little more time.

“Alright,” The nurse claps, smiling cheerily like she hadn’t just shattered your moment, “You are in good shape, Mr. Bradshaw. Your blood sugar is a little high,” She notes with a furrowed brow, and you shoot a knowing glance at Bradley, “But everything else seems right. Your ribs should heal within a few weeks time, and once you get back home and see familiar surroundings, your memories should return. All you need to do is rest, once I get these processed and signed off by the doctor, you’ll be good to go!”

“Thank you,” Carole gushes, while Bradley just nods with a tight smile on his face, jaw tight in irritation at the four unwanted parties in the room.

“Goin’ home, big guy.” Nick grins at Bradley as the nurse makes her leave. He claps his son on the leg and this time Carole doesn’t intervene, “What’s the first thing you’re gonna do?”

“Shower,” Bradley rasps, “There’s ash in my hair.”

“Not anymore,” You showcase your hands, dust and ash clinging to the spaces between your fingers from when you’d run them through Bradley’s hair. 

He laughs at the sight, “Still. The second thing on my list is sleep, and I don’t want to get anything on the sheets.”

“Good plan,” Carole beams at her son, hooking her arm around yours, “Baby, we should head out. We’ve got lots to do for this surprise of yours,” She gloats at Bradley, then turns back to you, “But you should wash your hands first, honey.”

“Okay,” You nod, eager to get out of a situation you’d been so courageous in only minutes before, “I’ll- um, get my stuff.”

You bend towards your purse, taking the bag of cookies out, “If your blood sugar rises and lands you in here for another night,” You warn, “I’m never making these again.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bradley nods, but your dad is the one to take the bag, not him.

“Don’t steal them,” You narrow your eyes at your dad and Nick, “And don’t get caught feeding him any. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am!” They echo Bradley, standing at attention. You scoff, turning back to Bradley and leaning down to meet him where he lays back on his pillows.

“I love you,” You hum, and he’s already reaching out for you before you can touch him. He sits upright, grabbing for your hands and tilting his face upwards to beg for a kiss.

“I love you, too,” He mumbles, speaking lowly against your lips as you kiss him. When you pull away he wants more, keeping your hands firmly in his grip when you try to leave.

“Bradley,” You let out a soft laugh, but you kiss him again anyways, knowing he’s still reeling from being a second away from finding out the truth, the extent of which he’s not prepared for.

“It’s okay,” You whisper against his lips, pressing your forehead to his, “We’ll talk later.”

”Yeah,” He nods, arching up into your embrace even though he knows he has to let you leave.

He calls out again before you leave, “Love you!” And you repeat it with a sad smile on your face, letting Carole take your hand while Nick and your dad sit at Bradley’s bedside. The last you see of him is his fading grin as you wave goodbye before the door shuts, and you’re in the hallway.

“Something happened in there,” She gushes, misplaced excitement shining from her eyes like a sunbeam, “I just know it! He was all lovey-dovey when you left, even moreso than usual. He really didn’t want you to go, angel.”

“I almost told him,” You mutter as Carole leads you to the elevator, nerves churning your stomach.

“What?” Her smile drops in surprise, and she stomps to a halt on the tiled floor. She presses the button, and when the elevator dings she ushers you inside.

“He asked me to be honest with him,” You recall, sick at the thought of how close you’d been to losing him, “And- and he was holding me, Carole, like he used to. And I couldn’t help it, I just- I wanted to tell him everything, I couldn’t stand lying to him and pretending nothing was wrong. But I- I don’t know if I can do that again. I don’t know if I can tell him the truth. I tried, and we got interrupted, I mean- isn’t that a sigh? Some sort of clue left by the universe to tell me to wait a little longer?”

“Baby I don’t think the universe is sendin’ you clues,” Carole looks sympathetically at you, “I think you’re lookin’ for reasons to run away again. I know I’m the one that told you to pretend, but that boy can read you like a book, and if he’s catchin’ on, maybe you ‘oughta give it up. I saw him in there, honey.” The door dings and slides open, and she takes your hand to lead you outside, “There’s nothin’ he wouldn’t forgive you for. He was clinging onto you like a leech, and I think he’d understand you were scared. Might not like it, but he’d understand.”

“He keeps saying that I’ll never lose him, or- or that he loves me, or that I can tell him what’s bothering me,” You gesture with your free hand as you walk to the parking lot, “And- and it feels so perfect! Like he knows exactly what I need to hear. Like I could tell him and nothing would change. But everything would change, and- and I don’t want that,” You suppress a sob as you reach Nick and Carole’s car, pulling open the door to the passenger’s side. 

She stashes her purse by your feet, stuffing the key into the ignition, “Baby, everything’s already changed. He just doesn’t know that. But he will soon, and once he does, he’s gonna realize why you’ve been acting so weird. If you were pullin’ it off, I’d say keep going. If he wasn’t asking questions, you could keep this up, ‘cause you’d be doing him a favor. That was the whole point, baby, to let him down nice and easy, give him a bit of time to adjust to the crash before confessing about the breakup. But I should’ve known he’d realize you were lyin' to him,” She scoffs, checking her mirrors, “That boy would notice you’d changed your haircut from just your voice on the phone. He knows you too well, honey, and if he’s askin’ all the right questions and you’re giving him all the wrong answers, that’s gonna stress him out. And that’s doing the opposite of what we want. If this is just gonna make things worse, I say tell him. But-” She backs out of the spot, en route to base to fetch his car, “Not yet. Wait until you’re home. Then he’s in a familiar environment, you can kneel by the bedside and grovel if you want,” She waves a hand in the air, “Just be honest with him baby, if it’s what he’s askin’ for.”

She barely lets you mull her words over before she starts again, “I think it’s a good time. You told me that when you left, you wish you hadn’t. And you’ve spent the last two days showing that to him, even if he doesn’t know that’s what you’re doing. He knows you love him, and I think he’ll forgive you if you confess that you were just scared of losing him. ‘Cause you can’t fake love like that, honey.” She eyes you through the mirror, “You can pretend y’all never broke up, but the way you love him, that’s not pretend, and he knows that.”

“I’ll tell him tomorrow,” You sniffle, “If he doesn’t know by then. I- I know I have to, even if it’s scary.”

“Atta girl,” She gushes, nearly flooring it at a green light in her excitement, “I’m proud of you, baby.”

“Don’t be,” You grumble, ‘Not yet. Not until I do it.”

“I know you will,” She decides, “You’ve never lied to me before.”

“Actually,” You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, “I have, once.”

She narrows her eyes, gives you a sideways glance as she makes a turn, “Oh, really? And when was that?”

“Uh, when we were in high school, I told you Bradley and I were staying at my place while my dad was gone,” Your face twists into an involuntary smile at the memory, “We went to Vegas.”

“What?” She shrieks, almost stomping on the breaks, “Vegas?”

“It was just for a night! And we didn’t gamble,” You scoff, “They wouldn’t let us into any casinos.”

“Ooh, you two,” She seethes, but it’s happened so long ago that she can’t be mad, not really, “Surprised y’all didn’t get married down there.”

“Actually,” You laugh, “We tried. But you weren’t there to sign off on it, and we were only 17.”

She shares a laugh with you at the memory, pulling into the security checkpoint outside of the naval base. You have to pass your ID over her, and you explain that you’re just picking up your partner’s car. They let you in, but you don’t think they like your presence very much, so you get the car and go as quickly as you can.

“It’s the motel just off the freeway,” You gesture in the direction of the place you’ve been staying, “We’ll load up the Bronco and meet back at our place.”

“See you there, babydoll,” Carole grins, already headed for the exit.

You roll up your window just as your phone buzzes, and you put the call on speaker while your phone balances on the cupholder.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” Bradley’s voice bleeds through the crackly speakers. Then, like an attached toddler their first night away from mom, “I miss you.”

It’s just what you need to hear after your gut-wrenching conversation with Carole, and you croon while waving to the security officers on the way out, “I miss you too, Brad. I picked up your car. Didn’t want her sitting all alone on base.”

“Thanks, babe,” You can hear the grin in his voice, “Is my mom still with you?”

“No, she’s driving herself,” You merge lanes, brain on autopilot as you head for the motel, “And don’t ask what we’re doing, it’s a surprise.”

He scoffs; you’ve caught him, “Fine. They gave me lunch. It’s the same as yesterday.”

“Poor baby,” You coo, feeling more at home in Bradley’s Bronco than you had in your half-empty house, “I’ll make you something good for breakfast tomorrow, baby. Eggs, pancakes, waffles, sausage, bacon, fruit, whatever you want to eat.”

He takes a pause, then, “I have something inappropriate to say. But your dad’s still here, so I can’t.”

You let out a bark of bewildered laughter, especially when you can hear your dad’s voice in the background as he groans.

“I get the idea,” You promise him, and you hear Bradley huff a soft laugh into the speaker. You almost want to record the call, just to keep the sound forever.

“When are you guys coming back?”

“I don’t know, Brad,” You lament, tailing Carole as she heads for the freeway exit, “Hopefully before dinner. But if not, I’ll definitely be there when you get discharged, and I can drive you home.”

“And we can shower,” Bradley adds on to your sentence, eliciting another disgruntled sound from your dad, “And sleep.”

“And we can shower and sleep,” You promise, chest feeling light at the night’s plan. You’re pulling into the motel parking lot now, the dingy sign colored more in spiderwebs than in neon.

“I’ve gotta go, Brad.” You put the car in park, grabbing your phone and switching speaker off, “I love you. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He’s hesitant to answer, and you wish you didn’t have to hang up. You know he’s still uneasy about the way that your talk ended earlier, but he finally speaks up, “Alright. Love you, too.”

“So much,” You hum, “Love you so much.”

“So much,” He agrees, more of that audible grin in his voice, “See you later, angel.”

“See ‘ya,” You hum, and it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would to hang up, not after that.

Carole’s standing ready at the strip of doors, and you pull the small, rusty key out of your pocket. There’s nearly ten boxes stacked in your room, and you prop the door open with one as you gather anything that isn’t packed away.

You haven’t changed clothes much since being there, nor have you been keeping up with your hygiene as well as you should be, so the clean-up process feels like a day's worth, not two week’s worth. But you’re thankful for the easy pickup as you load it into a half-empty box, hauling it out the door and to the Bronco.

Packing the boxes goes fast when you work with Carole. It had been much more of a struggle to cart two at a time from your place to the motel room, but with a little maneuvering, all nine boxes fit snugly between her car and yours.

“Alright,” You dust off your hands, picking at the edge of your nail, “You ready?”

“Actually, you go home,” She decides, “And I’ll go to the party supply store. I’ll pick up some ‘Welcome Home’ stuff, and when I get back I’ll help you with the rest of the boxes, and we can set up together.”

“Perfect,” You heave a sigh of relief, “Thanks, Carole.”

“Of course, baby!” She seems to have a never-ending supply of optimism, one that you’re thankful for because you seem to harbor the opposite.

Hauling your boxes back into the house is unexpectedly the easy part. What’s harder is putting everything back, filling in the gaps in the bookshelf with your own volumes, stuffing the dresser with the clothes you’d chosen to take with you.

When Carole gets back you’re dragging your thumb over the shirt you’d taken off of your pillow, ready to fold it and destroy the evidence of its association with your two-week disappearance. She peeks into the bedroom, expecting to find you hard at work organizing your novels, and instead sees you sitting on the bed looking like you’re going to puke.

“Baby,” She hums, “What’s the matter?”

“He put this over my pillow,” You sniffle, staring down forlornly at the object that had offered comfort to Bradley when you hadn’t, “He slept with it.”

“Oh, baby,” Carole whispers, standing behind you and rubbing your shoulders, “He loves you. Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you think it means everything’ll turn out okay?”

“What if he doesn’t want me back?”

For the first time, you say it out loud. You’ve insinuated it, sure, thought about it, but you’ve never said it yet. Not out loud. You voice the fear that’s been bouncing around like a balloon in your head, popping it and feeling the aftershocks flow through you. 

She’s quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say any more than you do. But she bends down, wraps her arms around your shoulders and hums, “He will, baby. He’s been sleepin’ with your shirt this whole time, he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t miss you.”

“But even if he misses me, I still hurt him,” You sniffle, “I- I left, is missing me enough for him to want me back in his life? What if I went too far? What if we can’t come back from this? What if I lose him forever, Carole?”

“He kept my ring.” She murmurs, her voice the calm to your storm. 

“What?”

“He kept it. Even though it wasn’t on your finger, he didn’t give it back to me. And he wouldn’t dare give that to anyone else, Y/N. It’s your ring, he knows it. That’s why he kept it, ‘cause he still wanted you to have it. He loves you even if you did hurt him, baby,” She sniffles, and you feel bad that you’ve made her cry, “That’s what love is. Sometimes you hurt each other, but if it’s love you find your way back. And what you’ve got is the strongest love I’ve ever seen.”

Your silence is enough of a reply, and you’re glad because it’s all you can muster. You can’t find the words to thank her, to tell her you hope she’s right, to beg to whatever deity exists for mercy. All you can say is, “I don’t wanna take it off,” As you stroke a finger down the shirt over your pillow.

“Wear it,” She suggests, pulling at the sweatshirt you’re wearing, “Put that on underneath it, baby. He won’t notice, and you can have it on you as a reminder that he misses you. Maybe it’ll give you the courage to tell him.”

“Okay,” You sniff, a stray tear drying sticky on your cheek as you stand. She turns you around and pulls you into a real hug, and you let her squeeze you before going to the bathroom to change.

The shirt smells like Bradley now that he’s slept with it for two weeks. You’re sure you’re just immune to your own scent, and that he could still find traces of it to lull him to sleep at night, but wearing it now feels just as comforting as you bet it felt for him to sleep with it.

When you wander out of the bedroom you find Carole in the living room. She’s standing on your coffee table with her right leg, and her left is on the arm of the couch. She’s pinning a banner to the wall, ‘Welcome Home Bradley!’.

“Hey honey!” She beams at the sight of you in your shirt, you’d forgone the jacket to not overheat while moving things around. 

“Do you need help?” You watch her drive a pin into the wall with her thumb, and she shakes her head as she reaches down for another one, “No, I’ve got this. You just take care of your boxes, I can handle the party.”

“Yeah, you get the fun part,” You tease, and she laughs.

“Darlin’, I wasn’t the one to take my puzzles and run. Now go put ‘em back, I’m sure they’re the first things Brad’ll notice are missing when he gets home.”

You head back into the bedroom without any complaints. It’s hard to put everything back. No, it’s nice to put everything back. What’s hard is pretending it was never gone in the first place; what’s hard is lying.

You slide a lone book into its place on the shelf, one last spot left beside a photo album. Your fingers brush over a gemstone on the cover and you tug at the hefty spine, catching the jam-packed book before it can fall.

“Wow,” You breathe, barely aware that you’re speaking out loud. The cover showcases Bradley pressed up against the hospital’s nursery glass, peering in on a very sleepy baby you snoozing in her bassinet with Carole holding him up. You’d been born shortly after Bradley, not even a year, and he’d been very excited to meet his new best friend at the hospital.

A flip to the first page finds you in your dad’s old apartment, sleeping in your crib while Bradley’s hand wraps around the bars he’d pulled himself up on. Then the next page showcases a photo of him in the crib, curled up in the space by your feet while you sleep peacefully in your own spot.

You take the photo out of its sleeve, flipping it over to read the inscription you know by heart on the back: Bradley’s attached to Y/N at the hip. Won’t sleep anywhere else.

The next photos are more of the same. Bradley holding you on the couch, a gummy grin on his face at the baby in his arms. His hands barely bigger than yours, handing you a toy fighter jet. Tummy time on a play mat, where he’s holding a rattle just out of reach to get you to crawl like he’d seen your parents do. A shot of you tugging on his wispy hair, then a shot of Nick dragging a crying Bradley into his lap while your dad holds your previously clenched fist open. They tell their own story.

You’d been fated best friends from the start, but as you age in the photos, your relationship changes. All of a sudden there’s puppy love in your gaze when you reach your tween years, braces in your mouth and hearts in your eyes. There’s a picture of Bradley teaching you how to skateboard, and you're holding his hands for dear life. You distinctly remember a fiery flush to your cheeks in that moment, and you’re glad the camera hadn’t captured it. There’s New Year’s Eve in your matching pajamas, you cradled in Bradley’s arms like they’d make you pose every year since you’d come into the world. It was cute when you were kids, then it was embarrassing when you were teenagers, and now it’s cute again. In the photo you’re looking at you can’t be more than fourteen, and you know the second the shutter clicked on the camera, you’d scrambled out of his arms like they were burning you. 

You flip through more pages, watching your relationship blossom from friends into lovers. All of a sudden you’re holding hands, you’re matching outfits, and you’re kissing when you think no one is looking. Then there’s the famous picture of Bradley on his 18th birthday, glaring at the camera with a box of condoms in his hands, courtesy of his dad. Funnily enough, your dad shares Bradley’s expression in the background. The inscription on the back of that one reads: Just making sure he’s safe! Don’t want any grandkids, not while I’m still in my glory days - Goose.

That New Year’s Eve photo is special. It’s you still cradled in Bradley’s arms like always, but you’ve leaned up to kiss him, and he’s leaned down to kiss you. You distinctly remember it being the first time you’d willingly kissed on camera in front of your parents, and the giddy smiles you’d forced into makeshift puckers are clear as day in the photo. 

The matching pajama sets you’ve outgrown together are all stored in a box marked ‘sentimental’, not one that you’d taken with you when you’d left. You have a current pair, red and black buffalo print bottoms with fuzzy black tops, and you plan on asking Bradley to wear them tonight.

You haven’t noticed, but a smile has grown on your face, etching itself into your features as you relive your love story. You flip through family vacations, holidays, birthdays, sports games, barbecues, a million family events that Bradley joined you at. There’s never any of you apart, even though he’d been moved around for his career, because no one has ever thought to take a picture of one of you without the other. There’s no Y/N in this book, there’s no Bradley, there’s only Y/N and Bradley, and that’s what you want to be for the rest of your life. You want to fill out the rest of this book with aging photos, clearer in quality while the old ones yellow. You want to stuff this book until the bindings rip, you want to look back through it one day in a rocking chair beside one of Bradley’s own, faces wrinkled and hair grayed. Your story can’t end here.

Your phone buzzes on the bed, and you drop the photo album there while you check your message. No surprise, it’s from Bradley.

- The doctor signed off, I can go home after dinner, which shouldn’t be too much longer. How’s it going over there?

That’s great! You type back, biting a smile off of your face as you respond. It’s residual from looking through the photos, but you have to remember, you’re not there yet. It’s going good. Your mom is scary agile.

- What’s she doing?

Can’t tell you ;)

- Damn! Thought I had you there. Your dad’s eating one of my cookies :(

Tell him I said to leave you alone!

- He says you’re not the boss of him.

Tell him your mom said to leave you alone.

- He says she’s not the boss of him.

Tell your dad to tell him to leave you alone. She’s his boss.

- My dad’s eating one too :( 

Those assholes! I’ll make you more, baby ❤

- I love you best. ❤

I love you too baby ❤

The lingering fear of a breakup - a real one this time, one that doesn't rewind itself amidst burning jet fuel - is stuck in the back of your mind, and you suspect it will be until you finally confess. But the photo album and Bradley’s messages have combined to lift your spirits, and filing your shoes back into their places doesn’t weigh you down as much as you suspected it would. You try to make them look haphazard, jumbling them with Bradley’s and turning a few of them upside down. You two are notorious for having out of control shoe collections, Bradley’s sneakers and your own shoes constantly tumbling out of the closet like a cartoon.

 By the time the sun starts setting early on your California dream you’re nearly done, there’s just a few last garments to slip into your closet. You do so while wrestling with the clothes that are already in there, a hefty collection that leaves little room for the dress you’re trying to wedge inside. Nevertheless, a too-full closet is better than a half-empty one.

“Sugar?” Carole calls from down the hallway, hopefully not precariously balanced on any furniture this time, “Nick says they’re just serving Brad his dinner.”

You finally manage to set the clothes right on their hangers, panting slightly as you withdraw from the closet, “Okay! I’m almost done. We have a lot of clothes.”

She laughs, “Yes you do! You should eat somethin’ before we leave.”

“There’s no food here,” You sigh, “The fridge is empty. I’ll have to go shopping later. I’ll just stop for fast food on the way.”

“Party’s all set up,” Carole nods, jerking her head back towards the hallway, “If you keep the lights off in the living room tonight, he won’t see it until tomorrow.”

“Okay. Are you coming over to celebrate?”

“Yeah, I was thinkin’ for breakfast,” Carole nods, “We can bring food?”

You laugh huffily, “I wasn’t kidding about there being nothing in the fridge. Anything’s appreciated, thanks, Carole.”

“Anytime, baby,” She beams, but reconsiders with a slightly furrowed brow, “Although, I hope this is the only time.”

“Me too,” You scoff, “Alright, let’s head back.”

True to your word, you pull through a fast-food drive-thru on the way back to the hospital. Carole knows Nick’s order, and you know your dad’s, hopeful that they’ll be tired of hospital cuisine and yearning for a burger instead.

However, when you get there, they’re waiting in the lobby, Bradley sat between them. You hadn’t realized how early they were letting him out, and Carole takes the bag of food from you so that you can properly hug Bradley. He stands the moment he sees you, eyes pooling with such urgency as he tries to respect the no-running rule of the hospital. You struggle just the same, and the moment you’re within arms reach of each other, tears start flowing. Bradley yanks you into his chest, almost tipping you forwards and himself backwards with the momentum of his hug. His chin nestles straight over your shoulder, as does yours to his, and it’s the kind of hug you get from him after a long deployment, maybe even more desperate now. His breathing is ragged beside your ear, but not from his medical conditions, from the desperation clogging his lungs. His fist is tight in the back of your sweatshirt but the fabric is loose on you, and it’s not a tight enough hold for him. His fingers scrabble for the shirt beneath the hoodie, gripping onto both garments and keeping you closer than you ever thought you could be with Bradley. Your hands immediately encircle his shoulders, and your fingers find purchase against the baby hairs at the back of his neck. You scratch through the ones at his nape, hearing him sniffle sharply where his chin rests on your shoulder. The hand that isn’t fisted in your clothes is tight to your hip, gripping you so hard that you can feel his nails through the jeans you’re wearing. It’s not painful, it’s just firm, and its strength is reassuring. It’s grounding to hug Bradley again, unobscured by breathing tubes, hospital beds, or prying nurses.

You hear someone’s phone camera sound off, but you’re far from discouraging it. In fact, you’re going to ask whoever it was to send you the photo later. The hug turns into an embrace, one where you sway lightly from side to side, anything that isn’t you or Bradley fading into the background. Your eyes are screwed shut but tears still cascade down your cheeks, melancholy waterfalls that drip off of the curve of your chin and stain Bradley’s t-shirt. He’s dressed in what he’d been wearing beneath his flight suit, the material thankfully not ripped or burnt thanks to the coveralls. You take the lead, pulling back, but he keeps the same level of contact with you. When your chin slips from his shoulder he grabs your face instead, using it to keep you pressed tight to his body. His eyes are teary themselves, streaks of the shimmery stuff down his cheeks and probably in his mustache, too.

“Hi,” You croak, smiling giddily through your tears. 

He smiles, though the chubbing of his cheeks nudges a few more tears out of his eyes, “Hi.”

You smear them away with the palm of your hand, and use your thumb to rid him of the ones clinging to his undereyes. His hands are on your cheeks, too, and he tries mirroring your ministrations, but his thumbs are too shaky to do so. For fear of poking your eyes out, he clamps his hands over your cheeks again, content with holding you while your tears run over the hills and valleys of his fingers.

“You’re standing,” You marvel, ‘I thought you’d be in a wheelchair.”

“It hurts a little bit,” Bradley admits with a slight grimace, and you back away like you’ve been struck. He doesn’t let you get far at all, dropping your face to tug you back by your waist, “-but I’d rather break another rib than let you go.”

“Sap,” You accuse, and Bradley laughs.

His lips twist into a sheepish smile, “Maybe. You can be my tree. I’m stuck on you.”

You sniffle, brow furrowing, “Huh? ‘Cause of the sap thing?”

“Yeah,” He laughs, “Isn’t that what it means? Sticky and sweet like tree sap?”

“I don’t know,” You breathe bashfully, your voice rife with part confusion and part sheepishness, “I guess that makes sense. But I’ve never been called a tree before.”

“I’ll work on my flirting,” He promises, stroking his thumbs up and down your sides in soft, soothing motions, “Can we go home now?”

You nod, “You should hug your mom first.” Only then does Bradley remember that you’re not the only other person in the room, turning in your grip to see your mini crowd of adoring onlookers.

He chuckles, “Sorry. Hi, mom.”

“Hi baby,” She gushes, letting him squeeze her in a hug. He’s much more gentle with her, out of longing for you, not disrespect.

Nick reaches over to ruffle his hair and your dad nudges you sideways, “Happy to have him back?”

“Yeah,” You gush, a breathless whisper, “Nervous, though,” You admit, “What if he slips in the shower, or something? Or- or some freak accident happens and he doesn’t wake up?”

“He will,” Your dad slings an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you close by your shoulders, “He’ll be alright, kid. And hopefully by tomorrow he’ll remember everything, maybe look at some pictures tonight to jog his memory. Show him stuff you took of these past few weeks, the places you went or the food you ate.”

You don’t have any pictures of your pitiful motel room, nor the candy bars you’d raided the minifridge for, but you wouldn’t show them to Bradley if you did.

You nod, breaking away when Bradley searches for you after his hug with Carole, “Thanks, dad.”

“You gonna be okay getting settled tonight, Brad?” Nick asks, already bringing a french fry to his mouth from the bag in his hand. Your dad has your food as well as his own, and you take your bag back from him as Bradley nods.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. Thanks, guys.”

Everyone says their hasty goodbyes, and your hug with Carole lasts a second longer than you hope anyone notices.

“Tell him.” She whispers against your ear, the words a feather light breath, “He loves you.”

“I’ll feed you in the car,” Bradley grabs the bag of food from your hand when you nudge him towards the exit, “Can I have fries?”

“You’ve been on a diet of chicken and potatoes for two days,” You take the hand that he offers you, curling your fingers around his, “You can have the whole burger if you want, Brad.”

Bradley stops short in front of the bronco when he sees it, “There she is!”

“She’s here,” You laugh, “Perfect condition. The air freshener’s still good.”

“Poor baby,” He heads for the passenger’s seat, swiping a hand over the hood of the car on his way, “She probably thought we forgot about her.”

He settles comfortably in the passenger’s seat, though you’re sure it feels awkward to be there in his own car. He throws his head back against the seat and sighs, long and loud, a noise he would have made fun of his dad for making mere years ago.

“Comfy?” You glance sideways at him, your food in his lap while he rests against the seat. He nods, reaching for the bag as you start up the engine.

“Here baby,” He calls, popping two fries in front of your mouth just before you turn out of the parking lot, “Fries.”

You carefully bite them out of his hand, tipping your head back to get them fully into your mouth. You mumble ‘thanks’ through them, and you’re not sure if he can make out what you’re saying, but you hope it’s obvious.

“I can’t wait to get in bed,” He groans, “I know it’s only been a few days, but I can’t remember being there for three weeks.”

“It’s cold without you,” You hum forlornly, checking your blind spot before merging, your hands stiff on the wheel. Your words leave more of an aftertaste on your tongue than the fries do, and it’s an unpleasant one. They mean more than you let on, and your brain is clouded thick with the worry of sleeping in a cold bed for the rest of your life. 

There’s a moment of silence that Bradley lets follow your words, then he promises, “I’ll be there tonight. And every night after that.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Burger?”

He laughs, leaning in his seat when you turn, “Burger.”

He holds the food up to your mouth, letting you take a bite that smears sauce over your mouth. He takes a napkin, cleaning up after you and dabbing all of the mess away. You’re absolutely certain that if you weren’t on the road, he would have kissed it off. You make a mental note to eat just as messily when you get home, for experimental purposes.

“Can I have a bite?” He asks tentatively, and you turn at a red light to smile and nod.

“‘Course, Brad. I meant it, if you want it you can have the whole thing.”

“I don’t want you to go hungry,” He hums, taking a chunk to the left of your bite mark, “Thanks, babe. Fuck, that's good.”

“Did they finish your cookies?” You exit the freeway, muscle memory guiding you home.

Bradley speaks through a mouthful of burger, unpleasant to hear but somehow endearingly domestic, like he’s not worried about looking handsome for you. “Yeah. I got one more, but they mowed through the rest.”

“Those bitches,” You hiss, and he laughs, “Okay, we’ll bake tomorrow. But I’m keeping the vanilla away from you.”

He scoffs, “Always with the vanilla. I drank it one time!”

“One time is enough for a lifetime ban!” You insist, turning onto your street, “Okay, you shower and I’ll eat, then we can get into bed.”

“Sounds good,” He drawls, stuffing your food back into its bag and swapping it to you for the keys, “I’ll be quick in the shower.”

“No rush,” You croon, holding the hand that he offers you as you take on the front walkway together, “Don’t hurt yourself because you’re too eager to get into bed. It’ll be there even if you take your time.”

You’re bound for the kitchen and Bradley the bedroom, but you remember you have to keep the lights off so that he doesn’t see your decorations. You send him off with a kiss at the hallway, intent on watching him leave before setting up at the table.

“Goodbye,” You hum, standing with your lips puckered in the doorway of the hall, “If you need help, just yell for me.”

“Will do,” He nods, puckering his own lips and pressing them to yours with a cartoonish smack! You watch his ginger walk towards the bedroom, his hips off balance as his ribs ache in his chest.

Once you’re in the clear you flick the kitchen light on, choosing to stand at the counter instead of dirty the table. You busy yourself with your phone, tapping on an impatient text from Carole: ‘Have you told him yet?’

Not yet. You write back, munching on a french fry, Not in the car. He didn’t ask, either.

- Don’t lose your nerve, you can almost hear the critical tone of her voice just by reading her message, The longer you lie, the more he’ll worry about you.

I know. I’ll tell him.

- ❤️

“Babe?” You hear Bradley call over the stream of the shower, “Babe!”

You abandon the last few fries in the container, stuffing your phone into your pocket to rush to his aide. Horror flashes through your mind, visions of Bradley bleeding down the drain or hunched over in pain.

All you see when you burst into the bathroom is him looking like a puppy in the rain, a pitiful pout on his face as water runs down his face and through his mustache.

“I can’t wash my hair,” He laments, “It hurts.”

You can’t help but coo, “Oh, baby. Lemme help you.”

“Thanks,” He mumbles, “I already have the shampoo.”

True to his word, there’s shampoo smeared over his hands. Apparently he’d tried his best, but couldn’t move well enough with his broken ribs. You try not to laugh at his misfortune, especially because he’s in pain, but he’s just too cute to ignore. You try to muscle down the thought that this might be the last time you ever shower with Bradley, even if you’re not really in the water with him. You wet your hands, then wipe the shampoo off of his palms, reaching for his scalp.

“I’m sorry I’m making you stand in front of me naked and we’re not having sex,” Bradley huffs, “Believe me, if I thought I could, I’d be jumping you right about now.”

“It’s okay,” You chuckle, muffling the sound into Bradley’s forehead that you kiss chastely, “We should hold off on sex, at least until your ribs are healed.

Or until you know the truth.

“They don’t hurt too bad now,” Bradley muses, “But when I raised my arms to shampoo, it was really bad.”

“I’ll reach for things for you,” You promise, scrubbing shampoo into his scalp. It knocks loose leftover ash from his accident, and it flows down the drain in a swirl of gray bubbles.

“Oh, fuck,” For not having sex, Bradley’s making some awfully pornographic sounds, “That feels good.”

“I’ll bet,” you hum, “Can’t imagine having ash in my hair for that long.”

“It’s not pleasant. Oh god, babe,” He groans, “Hurry up and rinse it out, I’m gonna fall asleep standing up.”

“Okay! Okay,” You laugh, scrubbing in one last circle at the nape of his neck then reaching for the showerhead, “Have you washed your body already?”

“Yeah,” He murmurs, letting the water flow through his hair and rinse the shampoo out, “Oh my god, this is what heaven feels like.”

“Come on,” You smile, reaching for a towel, “Do you need help drying off?”

“You just wanna feel up my thighs,” Bradley accuses, and you laugh good-naturedly.

“Nope. Ass.” You admit, “But if you can do it yourself, then go ahead.”

“No!” He catches you as you stuff the towel to his chest, pulling you back towards the shower, “Uh, I need help. I think you should wipe down my very toned chest and my tight butt.”

“Oh, really? That’s what you’re having trouble with?” You snicker, and Bradley nods proudly.

“Yep. Can’t get my hands over my shredded back either, such a shame.”

“Alright, you flirt,” You scoff, “Turn around.”

You start on his back, and of course, it’s very fit. It’s nothing you haven’t touched before, in fact, you’re surprised there’s no scars there from your fingernails, but this is more intimate, more romantic, more sweet. This is love, not lust. You scrub the towel over his skin, wiping the water droplets away and rubbing into his tight muscles. You take extra care to dry off the small of his back, smoothing the towel down over his ass, too. Despite his earlier cheekiness, he doesn’t make any comments while you’re working. You wrap the towel around his thighs, pressing a kiss to his hip as you bend down to dry his calves off. He stands still to let you get his ankles dry, and you tap his foot to turn him around.

Now he’s looking down at you as you towel off his calves again, getting any splotches of water you may have missed before. You dry out the soft tuft of hair at his groin and move to his chest before you can tempt yourself, not wanting your first sexual encounter after a life-threatening plane crash to be a blowjob up against the shower wall. Especially not before you tell him the truth.

Now that you’re on your feet you’re face-to-face, though yours is bent slightly to track any water droplets you might have missed on his shoulders. You towel off his underarms carefully, making sure not to aggravate his muscles that are already bleeding pain through his gut. You swipe the towel over his neck, and in doing so, you’ve set your hand just below his chin. It’s as natural as breathing to slide it up his jaw, and he’s already staring at you, breath shaky as you return his gaze.

He moves first, but you take his cue right away. He leans in to kiss you and you’re happy to press your mouth to his own, not caring that there’s a drop of water leftover between his fingers that transfers to your skin when he cups your face.

“Baby,” He whimpers, desperate and longing, “I- I missed you.”

There’s tears beading at the corners of his eyes, and you manage a sad smile when you wipe them away, “Why, silly? I was only gone for a few hours.”

“I know. I just- I’m real shaken up,” He admits, “I- I don’t even remember the crash and that’s the scary part. I almost died and I’ve got no clue what happened. I feel lost, like- like I’m still stalling or something, just waiting to crash.”

“I’m so sorry,” You croon through your own tears, “Brad, that must be so scary, I- I can’t even imagine.”

“I just need you,” He breathes, clutching at your shoulders like they’ll recover his plane, “Just don’t leave, please.”

“Sweetheart,” You coo, equally endeared and saddened by his sudden panic, “We're not at the hospital anymore, there's no visiting hours. Why would I leave? We're home, we’re gonna get changed, and then we’re gonna go to sleep. You’re safe now, okay?”

“Okay,” He nods, voice a mere whisper, “Okay, let’s sleep.”

“Clothes first,” You remind him through a cheeky grin, and the expression scrunches your tear-stained cheeks, cracking the stiffened substance, “We’re sleeping.”

“Alright, alright,” He laughs as you poke at his bare chest, “Will you help me? I managed to bend over and slide my t-shirt off but I don’t think putting something on will be as easy.”

“Mhm. I was hoping,” You reach for the sets of matching pajamas, holding them up enticingly, “You’d match with me?”

He laughs, the sound thick and genuine in his bruised chest, “Of course. I won’t look as good as you, though.”

“Yeah, my mustache is better,” You sigh, scratching a nail over your upper lip that’s morphing into a grin. You whirl on him with his shirt, helping ease his arms into the fabric and stretching the neck hole over his head so that he doesn’t have to bend down. All in all, it works, even if the neckline is a little stretched. He doesn’t need help with his pants, but you feel compelled to do it anyways, sliding his boxers and then the soft material up his legs and tying it tight at the waistband.

“Thanks, honey.” He murmurs, bending at the waist and sitting on his side of the bed, “Fuck, that’s nice.”

“Lay down,” You push against his chest, helping him recline against his pillows, “I’ll be right back, B.”

You change quickly, too eager to crawl into bed beside Bradley to care that you’ve left one bite of burger and a few lone fries on the counter. Ants be damned, you’ll clean up tomorrow. When you emerge from the closet you wriggle happily beneath the covers next to Bradley, flicking the light by the doorway off so that all that’s left is your bedside lamp.

When you settle on your pillow he’s already looking at you, and the tip of his nose bumps your own. You melt into a girlish giggle, something that a teenager would produce after a particularly bad pickup line and a single red rose.

“Hi,” You gush, overjoyed to have him so close again. You kiss his nose in your fervent enthusiasm, and he smiles sleepily against his pillow.

“Hi,” He hums, reaching for your waist and pulling you close, “C’mere.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” You stiffen, but he molds your body to his anyways, “Brad, be careful.”

“I will be! I said it before, you can’t break me. Just let me hold you.”

You croon a sad sound as he wraps you in his arms, a sound of longing, of adoration, of grief. He clocks it as sweetness, though, and holds you close. Your face is buried in his chest and you feel his lips move against your scalp when he speaks.

“Y/N,” He starts, and your heart rate spikes at just your name, “About earlier-”

“Tomorrow.” You blurt, anguish rising in your chest, “Brad, can we- can we talk tomorrow? I’m not trying to hide from you,” You promise, but you’re nestled into his chest and muffling your voice, “I trust you with the way that I'm feeling, I just- I just want to sleep. I want to breathe for a minute. And we can talk tomorrow, is that okay?”

He takes a moment to deliberate, really, truly thinking about it. While he does so, your hands tighten in his shirt, desperately clinging to him. But eventually he nods, disjointedly so into the crown of your head, “Okay.” His hands tighten around your waist as he speaks, and you melt into his embrace, scooting impossibly closer. “Okay, honey, we’ll talk tomorrow. Let’s just sleep.”

Settling into his embrace has never been so easy. Since the moment you'd been in them for the first time only hours old in the hospital, you’d known his arms were made for holding you. They’ve been yours for as long as you can remember, even longer than that according to the photo album you’d skimmed through earlier. Bradley had been the third person to hold you, second only to your parents. Sure, he couldn’t remember it either, and Nick and Carole were probably doing most of the work keeping you balanced in his little lap, but the point is, he was made for holding you, and you were made for being held by him. Your face tucks so naturally under the curve of his chin and your lips press even easier to his throat, kissing at his voice that you love so much. It comes out to thank you for the adoration in a gentle hum, one that thrums against your lips. 

His hands revel in their access to the extent of your back, brushing and roving and stroking over every inch of the space he’s granted. It’s ticklish but you don’t dare squirm, letting his fingers send miniscule bolts of electricity through your skin.

“I love you,” He reminds you as he holds you close, the sleepiness fogging his brain clear as day in his voice, “I really, really do.”

“I love you too, Bradley.” You promise, kissing up his chin to his lips. The pecks you plant there are short, sweet, and chaste, but when you’re done laying them over his face you decide that you want to fall asleep facing him, not hidden away in his chest. Sure, it’s warm and safe there, but you can’t drift off to his sweet face if you can’t see it.

Your solution is to plop your head back onto your pillow, throwing a leg over his waist to keep yourself close. His eyes are droopy, and hold all of the tender sweetness of the puppies he so often resembles. He’s clearly exhausted, and your own eyes slip shut at the sight of his struggling to stay open.

“Night, Brad.” You yawn, settling against your pillow with the tip of your nose brushing his own, “Welcome home.”

“Night, baby. Love you,” He gushes, as if you hadn’t just exchanged the words seconds prior. But it feels good, it feels right, so you say it back.

“Love you, too.” You use the last of your energy to reciprocate, sleep taking hold of you in its comforting embrace. You slip away like sand into unconsciousness, all of your thoughts about love, and life, and Bradley, and none of the horrific possibility of his memories returning. Nothing’s going to ruin this moment for you, not now.

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

[nrc-archives]

Twisted wonderland boys as dads

on a scale from 1-10 how good would they be as fathers. Depending on how people like this post, I may do a version with the NRC staff.

All characters are 18+ for this scenario

btw, these friends helped me with heartslabyul - Rook @mysaldate (the other friend wishes to remain anonymous)

Heartslabyul

Riddle: Riddle has a bit of a short fuse and a desire to control things. That may cause issues due to how hard kids can be to control. On top of that, he is probably terrified that he will turn out like his mother. I think he would be a great loving father but he would probably remain reserved and somewhat afraid to interact with his child from time to time. 6/10

Trey: Trey is practically already a father due to raising his siblings and the dorm for that matter. 10/10

Cater: tries to be a friend more than a dad. wants their friends to think he's cool but just isn't. tbh, he needs to get therapy before getting into a long-term relationship enough to have a kid. probably makes TikTok videos with the baby in the video/in the background. 4/10

Ace: His girlfriend said she was pregnant and he tried to run away. jk but he wouldn't be bad but he wouldn't be the best either. He would be clueless the first few weeks but would adjust. would probably sleep in the same room as the baby for about a week until he realizes he opens his eyes every time the baby makes the tiniest noise. Also, the type of dad where if mom says no he agrees with her. then when she leaves he's like "wanna do it anyway?" 6/10

Deuce: Amazing dad! awkward but trying his best. probably found a way to make chores fun. Sleeps with the baby in the same bed as him (and the mother) for at least 5 years. gets into hobbies with his child so they can talk about the hobbies together. supportive dad. if the kid began to get rebellious, he would sit the kid down and talk to them. he would not scold them. If his daughter likes princessy stuff, he's letting her paint his nails. 10/10

Savanaclaw

Leona: He's a surprisingly good dad. it's true that when his significant other told him she was pregnant he stared at her like "Please tell me you are joking" but when the baby arrives, Leona looks at the baby and makes a vow to protect this child with all he has. He has natural authority but does not abuse it. he can be cold and unaffectionate but he will always be there for the child. 5/10

Ruggie: One of the best dads. He shows this with the neighborhood kids. probably works his ass off to give the child the best life possible. he also would kiss his wife's belly a lot when she was pregnant and put his ear up to her belly as well. 8/10

Jack: Great dad. It shows with how good he is with his siblings. Like Ruggie, he puts his ear up to his wife's belly to listen. Stern yet very loving father. scolds the kid after they do something dumb and almost get hurt but immediately hugs them saying "I'm just glad your ok..." 9/10

Octanvinelle

Azul: While he is ecstatic to be a father and have a beautiful, loving wife, he probably would be too busy to take care of his kid most of the time. It would mostly be Floyd, Jade, and Azul's wife taking care of the child, so long as Floyd and Jade aren't at Azul's restaurant, working for him at that moment. Despite that, He is very protective. If he hears his child is being bullied, he deals with it personally. He is affectionate in private. Meaning only when it's him and his child (and maybe his wife) in the vicinity. Never in front of Jade and Floyd. 5/10

Jade: If his kid ever talked back to him, he would put the fear of God in the child without even taking a step. The kid starts therapy at age 5. Jade is very manipulative so he knows how to get his kid to do what he wants. He would also get the child involved in the family business at a young age. (more tea for the therapist) Obsessively protective. 3/10 (but appears like a 9)

Floyd: Very good with kids. he thinks his kid is an angel but they arent and he does know this but just doesn't care. if the little shit goes and starts a fight, Floyd's child will run to her father and Floyd will probably throw down with a preschooler. Tells his child to finish her dinner, the child refuses, Floyd gets annoyed and makes the scary face, the child makes the face back and continues to refuse, Floyd is proud of his baby. Same with Ace or Cater, he is probably the type to be like "Oh? you're sneaking out to go to a party? can I come? mom fell asleep watching the clamdashians." 7/10

Scarabia

Kalim: He's very affectionate and supportive but also not the most intelligent... After he found out his wife was pregnant, he didn't realize that yes, just a drop is enough to make a baby...Jamil probably yelled at him once or twice for trying to take the newborn on a magic carpet ride...He's trying to be more responsible for his child but it's a work in progress. 3/10

Jamil: I feel like Jamil would be against having children for the sole fact that he doesn't want to bring a baby into the world that has its fate decided for it before it even has a chance to breathe. On the chance that Kalim declares that Jamil's child has the right to choose whether or not they want to work for Kalim's family, he may tho. If Jamil did have a baby, he would be very responsible and probably a bit overbearing. He would also encourage the child to go do other things, especially if the child wanted to help with Jamil's work. 7/10

Pomefiore

Vil: Supportive, loving, but strict. focuses on the child's individuality. he will not raise a slacker tho. "if you want a hobby do it properly. give it your full effort." Would definitely take his kid on all trips with him. 10/10

Rook: I feel like he wouldn't be the best candidate...He is somewhat affectionate but given how he acts, there is a possibility that he could be a bit insensitive about the child's feelings. The child can hunt a deer on their own by age 4 for sure tho... 2/10

Epel: He would be a great father if the child is a boy/is boyish. If the child is a girl/girlish he may be a bit insensitive if the child wants to do girly things with him. However, this does not mean he won't love them unconditionally. Thankfully, he has a village standing behind him and his granny can and WILL call him out if he hurts her great-grandchild, even accidentally. 5/10

Ignihyde

Idia: If he manages to be with a woman long enough to get that far, he is utterly terrified. He has the funds to build a video game-themed nursery but, not only does the thought of being a dad has his anxiety through the roof but the family curse is also another big issue to him. Ortho tries to look up tips for Idia on being a good father and learn more about the pregnancy process to better assist the mother...this is probably how he discovers the parental lock that Idia installed years ago... Idia probably doesn't like the idea of having to put his gaming on hold when the baby cries and Ortho, ngl probably not the best assistant either... 2/10

Ortho: Robot. end of story N/A

Diasomnia

Malleus: Yeah, he may need assistance... He needs an heir so he needs to reproduce but, given that he was raised by Lilia the most, there is a chance he may not be around his kid as much as he'd like...Not because he doesn't want to either. I feel Malleus would love to spend time with his child but, as the ruler of Briar valley, he has essential duties to fulfill. He is very attentive when he is with his child, and his favorite pastime is reading books with the child. He probably does wish to have more time with them though... 6/10

Lilia: Lilia is a canon father...A good one? That's another story that I won't spoil. (He has all positive intentions but he can be a bit clueless) When Lilia learned he would be having his own blood-related child, he was over the moon. He probably really wants a girl since he raised Malleus and Silver. If it's a boy, he will love it all the same but still try again for his elusive daughter. (He will not give up either, especially if he put a ring on the mom's finger...) Unless Silver and the mother step in, Lilia is likely to make all of the same mistakes he made while raising Silver. Of course, Silver doesn't want to see his baby sibling suffer through all the food poisoning so, he tries to stop by the house a few times a week. Sorry Lilia but 4/10

Silver: He is probably average when it comes to being a parent. He would definitely be married before conceiving a child. Regardless of his duties as a knight, one thing he always has to do is be there to tuck his child in at night, even if he has to return to his duties immediately after. He is guilty of falling asleep during the bedtime story though...All planned by his child, of course. His duties cause him to be away for a while but when he is there, he is the most loving father and yes, he credits Lilia for being his example. 8/10

Sebek: did someone say, soccer dad? He is loud and supportive. If it's a sports game, he's yelling the loudest. If it's ballet, he stands up, in tears at the end as he claps and yells "THAT'S MY BABY!!!" 100% embarrassing... He can be a bit strict from time to time but, it's just because he wants his child to be successful. When the child was born, he was ugly crying over how beautiful his baby was. "I cant believe something so obscene can make something so beautiful..." His wife glares and Lilia just comments "Oh, if you think procreation was bad, just wait till you have to change a diaper." 8/10

[ziee]

Happy Birthday Yb x Reader (Smut)

"Surprise!" Your boyfriend exclaimed, on his knees with his arms out. You gasp and look around the room, decorated with red and pink streamers, balloons of every color, and glitter coating the floor. You knew that would be a hassle to clean up, but you'll worry about that tomorrow.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" You squealed, running towards him. The force of your legs was too much for you, and instead of stopping you crashed into your poor boyfriend. Falling on top of him, you imminently shouted apologies as he laughed.

"Like it?" He questioned, eyebrow raised.

"Yes!" You pushed your face to him, kissing him hard on the floor. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulled you on top of him. You continued to pecker his face with kisses before standing up in a heated fit of giggles. You walked around the room, tracing the table decorated with colorful placemats, and the grandest of cakes.

Well, to you it was. The cake was 1 tier, the cake flavor of your choice as well as icing your favorite color. This was all that you wanted and more. You can't believe he had done all this for you in such a short amount of time. "Peter, this is amazing." You waltzed over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, forcing him to bend his knees as you hug him.

"I'm glad you like it dear." You kissed him once more as he turned his head. Releasing him, you looked over at the clock before moving back towards the cake.

"It's almost time. Why don't you get the candles so I can make my wish?" You suggested, sitting down. He nodded and went to the kitchen cabinets, pulling out the desired supplies. Placing the candles into the frosted cake, he lit the flame and sat back. You huffed in a big breath, thinking about what you wanted, before blowing out the candles.

"Yay! So what did you wish for?" He clapped for you as you picked up the knife seated next to the treat. You grinned, putting a finger to your lips and tapping.

"Can't say. Now c'mere and eat some cake!" You cut both of you a slice before digging in. Safe to say that cake will not last a week in your little apartment. You almost shed a tear at how good it was. Finishing your second slice, you sighed and sat on the couch, rubbing your full belly as he put away the cake.

"Oh goddd, it feels like I'm pregnant." You moaned at the uncomfortable feeling.

"That wouldn't be a bad idea." Your boyfriend mumbled as he sat beside you. You stared at him, eyebrow raised.

"Huh?"

"Us having kids? I bet they'd be so cute. Probably take after you mostly, because you're so beautiful." He leaned in and kissed your cheek.

"I didn't know you wanted them." You spoke softly, contemplating the idea.

"Of course I do! Don't you? I want to spend the rest of my life with you." You've never really thought about having kids, you weren't sure if you wanted to either.

"I- don't know. Yet. I've just thought about stuff in the moment, ya know? More worried about food on the table than a kid in my stomach." You shrugged.

"That's fine. We can decide on that stuff later but come on up, there's one more present I got for you." You groaned as he stood up, standing in front of you. You lifted your hands towards him.

"Pull me." You laughed as he grabbed your arms and pulled you towards him, pushing you into his chest. He walked you to the room you both shared and sat you on the bed. Pulling out a present from under the bed, he placed it on your lap.

"What? You hide presents under the bed? All this time!" You slapped your face as you held the box. He smiled at your reaction before gesturing to the gift.

"Open it." You did as he said, smiling all the while you tore through the wrapping paper. Slowly uncovering the box, you gasped in disbelief.

"No.." Your hands shook as you picked up your gift. "No! Oh my god!" You shouted, standing up as the box fell from your lap. "How did you get this?" You rushed to him and squeezed him in your arms. He laughed as you hugged him tightly, the object still in your hand.

"Careful, it was hard to find one in this good of a condition." He tapped your back and you let him go, staring in awe at what he had gotten you. You've wanted this forever, but either you could never find it or it was way too expensive to buy for you. You opted rent over a gift.

But now you've got it! "You're like, the best boyfriend ever." You placed it on the table next to your bed and went over to him. Standing in front of him, you start to lean into him before he wrapped his arms around your waist. Kissing him, you shuffled both of your bodies by the bed before forcing your weight down.

He fell on his back, hitting into the mattress as you followed suit, crashing softly into his chest. You laughed, giggling into his chest as you slid down. He gazed at you softly, bright blue eyes focused solely on you. He adjusts himself so his feet don't fall off the bed, and you sit upon his lap.

Noticing the position, you grin as an idea pops into your mind. You're the birthday girl, and you're getting just one more present. You start grinding softly into him, smiling down innocently at him.

"Darling.. You know what this does to me.." His voice is hushed and deep as he stares intently at you and your motions.

"Do I?" You shrug and continue your movements. Starting to feel himself harden, you smile excitedly. The fun has yet to begin. "Well, you obviously have no complaints." You continue your grinding, only a little harder.

"You'll regret your words tomorrow when you're complaining that you can't walk." His hands reached down and grabbed your thighs, clenching into the clothed skin. You softly slap his hands away, removing them from your pants as you tsk.

"Nuh-uh, today is my day. My rules. Your challenge is, no touchy." You cross your arms and press into him. You could feel him now, and he makes a soft noise that sends tingles across your body.

"No touching?" His eyebrows furrow, but he places his hands into the blankets.

"Yep, you can't touch me until we're done, ok?" You lean down, giving him a small peck before getting off him. He starts to grumble but stops seeing you undress. Quickly, you strip from your heavy clothes until you're fully nude.

Settling into his lap once more, you shuffle down a few and unzip his pants. Pulling it down to his knees, you lick your lips before pulling down his boxers. His cock springs free, hard, and veiny. Delicious, and just enough to fill you up.

"You're a very big boy.." You shuffle up and rub yourself against his legs. His breaths deepen as he stares at you. Placing a hand on your chest, you begin to rub your breast as your clit touches against him. "You like this? Do I put on a good show?" Rubbing yourself harder into him, you softly twist your nipples.

"You're such a tease." So far, he hasn't tried to touch you, so you should at least reward him. A little bit. Settling yourself down, you place a hand onto his length. Slowly stroking him, you swirl your finger around his wet tip. You grin as he tries to contain himself, but short moans keep slipping from his mouth.

"Cmon, I wanna hear you're voice." You whine, leaning down. Taking a little lick to his pink tip, he groans loudly. "That's a good boy." You whisper before taking him into your mouth. Your tongue presses against him, making jolts of pleasure rush across his body. He refuses to place a hand over his mouth, it's your day and he can't deny you.

Taking him deeper, you gulp him down a few times before popping off him. You can't wait anymore. It feels like a fire down there, and you need it extinguished. "You ready?" You hover over him, waiting for words of confirmation before you proceed.

"Yes!" He exclaims, obviously very desperate for release. You smile and sink down on him.

"Oh-hhh.." You softly sigh, wincing slightly as he stretches you. A little pain never hurt anyone, so you take him deeper, bit by bit. Once you're set upon his lap once more, you take deep breaths as you wait for the pain to pass. Your eyes look upon your boyfriend, clenching his eyes shut as he concentrates. His hands are clutching the bedsheets.

After a few minutes, the pain has ceased and you're ready to start. You slide off him, just until his tip has almost left you, before sinking back down. You both groan, the stretching feeling now a better, pleasant thing to have. Heat from your bodies fills the room. Beats of sweat form on your forehead, but you're too busy to wipe them away.

You bounce on him, breasts swaying to your beat. He gazes at your form so intently, but you've shut your eyes at this moment. His hands release from the blanket, and he's so close to grabbing your skin before a shakey hand slaps him.

"Not yet." You've opened one eye, panting as you speak. You grin at his annoyed face, but it soon changes as you sink down fast. Letting out a loud moan, a fire burns into your stomach. You slam down hard into him, and you could tell that you're about to come soon.

His breaths are raggy and shallow, his cheeks dusted red. His mind screams to touch you, to feel you more than he's already, to engulf you whole. He just needs to touch you..

"Oh-oh-oh god!" You scream as he lifts his knees, pushing deeper inside you. That was the turning point, and you came hard. Your body twitched, but he wasn't done with you. You fell forward and struggled to hold yourself up with the help of your hands on his chest.

Using his knees, he pumped into you a few more times before having his own release. Cumming with a loud groan, hot seed spills inside you. You let go of your hold on his chest and fall down, face flat on him. He sets his knees down and pops out of you.

Hot liquids spill from you onto your thighs and his lap, but you could care less. You breathe in a few times before leaning your head up, looking at your exhausted lover. "You didn't touch me once. I'm impressed."

He hummed, leaning down and pecking your forehead. "Happy birthday Y/n."

[littlelovelymemes]

𝐚𝐬𝐤  𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 :    𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒐𝒖𝒔  𝒒𝒖𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔

‘  i’ll  find  you  again ,  wherever  we  end  up  next .  ’

‘  the  enormity  of  my  desire  disgusts  me .  ’

‘  please ,  one  more  kiss  in  the  kitchen  before  we  turn  the  lights  off .  ’

‘  i’ve  been  lost  but  i’m  here  now .  you’re  the  only  person  who  has  ever  been  able  to  find  me .  ’

‘  almost  dead  yesterday ,  maybe  dead  tomorrow ,  but  alive ,  gloriously  alive ,  today .  ’

‘  you  are  not  broken .  ’

‘  you  can  love  and  be  loved ,  despite  what  may  feel  like  the  eternally  brutal  nature  of  the  world .  ’

‘  i  did  violence  to  my  own  heart .  ’

‘  will  i  be  forgiven  for  the  sins  i  did  not  commit ,  but  created ?  ’

‘  i  would  never  kiss  anyone  who  doesn’t  burn  me  like  the  sun .  ’

‘  i  would  rather  break  the  world  than  lose  you .  ’

‘  i  think  you  and  i  have  known  each  other  in  a  few  lifetimes .  ’

‘  i  didn’t  know .  i  had  no  idea  how  greedy  my  heart  really  was .  ’

‘  is  that  why  the  idea  of  losing  you  torments  me  so  much ?  ’

‘  how  long  have  i  been  without  you ?  ’

‘  am  i  foolish  for  wanting  this ?  it  will  end  in  flames .  it  always  does .  ’

‘  sorry  about  the  blood  in  your  mouth .  i  wish  it  was  mine .  ’

‘  if  i  love  you ,  is  that  a  fact  or  a  weapon ?  ’

‘  tell  me  how  all  this ,  and  love  too ,  will  ruin  us .  ’

‘  and  you  realize  the  one  person  in  the  world  who  loves  you  isn’t  the  one  you  thought  it  would  be .  ’

‘  it  cannot  be  a  mistake  to  have  cared .  it  cannot  be  an  error  to  have  tried .  it  cannot  be  incorrect  to  have  loved .  ’

‘  finally ,  i  plead  guilty  of  adoring  you .  ’

‘  a  child  weaned  on  poison  considers  harm  a  comfort .  ’

‘  without  realizing ,  i  find  it  in  myself  that  i  cannot  stop  thinking  about  you .  ’

‘  tomorrow ,  when  i  wake  up ,  i  promise ,  i  will  be  better .  ’

‘  someone  has  to  leave  first .  this  is  a  very  old  story .  there  is  no  other  version  of  this  story .  ’

‘  when  i  imagine  myself ,  i  am  always  leaving .  i  couldn’t  draw  my  own  face  if  god  asked .  ’

‘  do  we  simply  stare  at  what’s  horrible  and  forgive  it ?  ’

‘  i  wanted  to  let  go  of  the  pain  even  though  it  was  the  last  thing  that  felt  alive  from  you .  ’

‘  have  i  endured  loneliness  with  grace ?  ’

‘  i’ll  be  your  slaughterhouse ,  your  killing  floor ,  your  morgue  and  final  resting ,  walking  around  with  this  bullet  inside  me  ‘cause  i  couldn’t  make  you  love  me  and  i  am  tired  of  pulling  your  teeth .  ’

‘  and  then  my  soul  saw  you  and  kind  of  went ,  ‘ oh ,  there  you  are .  i’ve  been  looking  for  you . ’  ’

‘  sometimes  it  feels  like  someone  else  is  wearing  my  body .  ’

‘  i  spent  my  life  arguing  how  i  mattered  until  it  didn’t  matter .  ’ 

‘  who  knew  my  haven  would  be  my  coffin ?  ’

‘  dead  is  the  safest  i’ve  ever  been .  ’

‘  i’ve  never  been  so  alive .  ’ 

‘  you  know  what  i  was  gonna  tell  you  before ,  but  didn’t  have  the  nerve ?  you  got  your  name  written  all  over  me .  i  got  my  name  written  on  you ,  too .  ’ 

‘  you  already  are  something .  you  always  were .  and  you  still  have  time  to  be .  ’

‘  you  know  me  by  heart .  it  infuriates  me  that  you  know  me  by  heart .  ’ 

‘  why  am  i  waiting  for  you ?  hungering  and  thirsting  for  you  in  every  cranny  of  my  soul  and  even  in  my  ribs ?  ’ 

‘  you  came  with  a  handful  of  pain  and  a  smile  which  broke  the  ground  under  my  feet  as  the  earthquake  does  when  two  people  meet .  ’

‘  the  only  good  thing  is  that  i’m  getting  used  to  suffering .  ’

‘  the  return  to  time  was  not  my  choice .  ’

‘  we  are  built  to  live  inside  each  other .  this  means  we  are  built  to  ruin .  ’

‘  time  does  not  bring  relief ;  you  all  have  lied .  ’

‘  time  does  not  know  how  to  keep  our  hopes  safe .  ’

‘  you  needed  me  so  much  that  you  had  to  end  me .  ’

‘  there  are  days  where  i  am  morbidly  in  love  with  you ,  and  this  is  one  of  those  days .  ’

‘  i  know  no  end  to  desiring  you .  ’

‘  i  fear  that  i  am  both  too  much  yet  not  enough .  ’

‘  yes ,  yes ,  yes ,  i  do  like  you .  i  am  afraid  to  say  the  stronger  word .  ’ 

‘  a  heart’s  a  heavy  burden .  ’

‘  life ,  as  i  see  it ,  is  all  about  farewells  rather  than  reunions .  ’

‘  heaven  is  real  and  you  only  had  two  minutes  to  prove  it  to  me .  ’

‘  it  was  already  love .  ’

‘  everyone  desires  love  but  also  finds  it  impossible  to  believe  that  they  deserve  it .  ’

‘  i’ll  love  you  until  i  forget  how  to .  ’

‘  i’ll  love  you  until  i  forget  how  to  and  then  i’ll  fall  like  my  knees  aren’t  already  bruised  from  doing  it  and  i’ll  remember  why  you’re  worth  the  ache .  ’

‘  of  course  i’ll  hurt  you .  of  course  you’ll  hurt  me .  of  course  we’ll  hurt  each  other .  but  this  is  the  very  condition  of  existence .  ’

‘  nothing  makes  me  sadder  and  nothing  makes  me  happier  than  you .  ’

‘  i  love  you  and  i  do  not  want  to  love  you ,  it  is  too  much  and  too  difficult .  ’

‘  grief  is  just  love  with  no  place  to  go .  ’

‘  i  felt  my  life  with  both  my  hands  to  see  if  it  was  there .  ’

‘  you  do  this ,  you  do .  you  take  the  things  you  love  and  you  tear  them  apart .  ’

‘  i  hope  it’s  love .  i’m  trying  really  hard  to  make  it  love .  ’

‘  if  you  touch  me  again  i  might  burn  up  in  the  cold  air .  ’

‘  i  asked  you  not  to  leave  several  times .  ’

‘  i’ve  only  adored  you  lifetimes  ago  and  here  we  are .  it’s  nice  to  see  you  again .  ’

‘  all  time  ever  does  is  pass  and  all  i  ever  do  is  remember .  ’

‘  i  feel  as  though  we  were  never  strangers ,  you  and  i ,  not  even  for  a  moment .  ’

‘  i’d  choose  you ;  in  a  hundred  different  lifetimes ,  in  a  hundred  worlds ,  in  any  version  of  reality ,  i’d  find  you  and  i’d  choose  you .  ’

‘  nothing  about  this  is  soft  but  we  pretend .  ’

‘  maybe  you  and  i  are  just  a  dream .  ’

‘  i  know  you  loved  me  too ,  you  knew  me ,  and  it  gladdens  my  heart .  ’

‘  i  promise  i  shall  never  give  up  and  that  i’ll  die  yelling  and  laughing .  ’

‘  i  don’t  do  anything  with  my  life  except  romanticize  and  decay  with  indecision .  ’

‘  the  world  was  made  so  that  we  could  find  each  other  in  it .  ’

‘  you  don’t  meet  the  people  you  love ,  you  recognize  them .  ’

‘  i  think  you  and  i  have  known  each  other  a  few  lifetimes .  ’

‘  this  body  knows  fear  like  a  front  porch  knows  welcome  --  it  is  always  coming  home .  ’

‘  i  miss  you  more  than  i  remember  you .  ’

‘  if  i  could  have  done  it  all  again ,  i  would  have  loved  you  better .  but  i  could  not  have  loved  you  more .  ’

‘  we  could  have  been  happy .  i  know  that ,  and  it  is  perhaps  the  hardest  thing  to  know .  ’

‘  you  want  a  better  story .  who  wouldn’t ?  ’

[thearvariblues]

Sing Me a Song

“You Geralt of Rivia’s bard?”

Jaskier looks up from his notepad and grins at the man who’s just sat at the opposite side of the table.

“Technically, I used to be,” the bard says, taking a sip of his ale. “We had a tiny misunderstanding last year. I’m sure he’s gonna be fine, though, I’m just giving him some time to cool down and wallow in self-pity.”

Jaskier frowns, because his brain has finally caught up with his mouth and informs him that even though the man who asked the question is very pretty (and he is – a bit short, but lean and clearly very agile, brown-skinned, with dark, wavy hair and stunningly unnatural green eyes), he also has got two big, scary swords strapped to his back, way too many scars and has, in fact, only one green eye, the other being covered by an eye patch, presumably missing.

And then there’s the Cat school medallion on his chest.

As Geralt would say… fuck.

“Unless you’re here to kidnap me and torture me to lure him into a trap. If that’s the case, I’ve never met a Geralt of Rivia in my life. Also, if you harm a hair on my head, he will hunt you down and kill you, very slowly and painfully. Just a heads up,” Jaskier smiles, utterly failing to sound at least a little bit threatening.

“Thanks for the warning,” the Witcher laughs. “But I actually need you to write me a song.”

“Sorry, I’m afraid this bard already has a Witcher to praise,” Jaskier protests, shaking his head firmly.

“Ugh. Who says I want praise?” the man says, making a face. “I just can’t seem to find a friend of mine, so I need to make him find me.”

“With a song? Do I look like a fucking pied piper?” Jaskier smirks.

“A little, yeah.”

“Fair enough. What’s in it for me?”

“What do you think is going to happen once Geralt hears that his bard has found himself a new muse?” the Witcher grins.

“Oh,” Jaskier says, chuckling. “Oh, but that’s good.”

“Are you in, then?”

“Absolutely. And, uhm… What did you say your name was?”

“By the gods, where are my manners?” the Witcher laughs. “I’m Aiden.”

*

Geralt places two tankards of ale on the table and sits down with a grunt.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting old, Wolf,” his brother Lambert smirks and promptly pulls one of the tankards closer. “Because that almost sounded like Vesemir when he’s trying to get up from his chair.”

“You’re so fucking funny,” Geralt murmurs.

“I know, right?” Lambert grins, tucking a strand of curly red hair behind his ear. “So, how’s life on the Path without your beloved bard?”

“Not my bard.”

“So pretty fucking terrible, eh?” Lambert chuckles.

“Fuck off, Lambert.”

“You’re being very nice and friendly today, you know?”

“I bought you a drink. So shut up and… drink.”

Lambert shrugs and for once does what he’s told. Within a few seconds, half of the tankard’s content vanishes.

“If it’s any consolation, life without my Cat is also pretty fucking unbearable,” he says then.

“Hm.”

“Oh, really, Geralt? You’re using your famous hm against me? Me, your brother?!”

Geralt groans.

“By the gods… Why can’t I just run into Eskel for once? Why does it always have to be you?”

“You’re just lucky, I guess.”

“Lucky. Yeah.”

Lambert rolls his eyes and focuses on his ale again – until the local bard grabs his lute and starts playing a slow, romantic ballad. Lambert growls.

“Fuck, I hate that song!”

“Why?” Geralt blinks, because he’s never heard the song before, and to be perfectly honest, it doesn’t really sound that bad.

“A brown-skinned woman with dark hair who’s seemingly killed, then comes back to life already plotting her revenge, only to find out that her lover’s already avenged her? Always reminds me of Aiden.”

“Aiden wasn’t exactly… A woman, was he?”

“He also hasn’t come back to life, as far as I know,” Lambert mutters.

“Who wrote it?” Geralt frowns, listening carefully. “It sounds like Jaskier’s work.”

“Some Master Dandelion. Never heard of him, but it seems he’s very popular now.”

“Hmmm…”

“Oh, not again!” Lambert groans.

“It just… It really does sound like Jaskier’s song.”

“You just fucking miss the bard, Geralt, that’s all.”

“No. No, I actually think…”

“That might be exactly the problem,” Lambert says and places his empty tankard back on the table. “The second round’s on me.”

*

“Seems like your plan’s not working as intended,” Jaskier comments. He’s spent weeks traveling with Aiden, and they still haven’t even heard about another Witcher trying to find them.

“I’m aware,” Aiden mutters, chewing his dinner without even noticing its taste – which is, honestly, probably for the best. “Could you be, like… less subtle?”

Jaskier shrugs.

“I suppose.”

“Fine,” Aiden nods. “Do it.”

*

“It’s a man now,” Geralt frowns, listening to the song he’s heard countless times already. “That’s new.”

“Looks like Master Dandelion might like to, uhm, dual wield,” Lambert snorts.

“It still sounds like Jaskier’s work.”

“Does Jaskier like to dual wield?”

“Hmm,” Geralt says dreamily.

“All the more reason to apologize, then, eh?”

“Oh, shut up, Lambert…”

*

“Still not working!” Aiden groans. He’s been waiting for three months for his Wolf to find him, and to no avail.

“I could, you know… Try something more obvious,” Jaskier offers.

“Please.”

*

“It’s a cat now,” Geralt blinks. “Dark-skinned, dark-haired… cat.”

Lambert sighs.

“Yeah, I hate those fucking metaphors.”

*

“I’m starting to think I should have just… kept trying to find him,” Aiden sighs, staring out of the tavern’s window.

Jaskier, cheeks still flushed from his performance, downs his ale and shakes his head.

“Don’t give up hope just yet,” he says. “I’ve already made a few changes to the song.”

“Oh, have you?” Aiden smirks. “Does it now say Lambert, I’m alive you moron, stop hiding and fucking find me?”

“Well, not yet… But almost.”

“Great. I can’t wait to hear it.”

*

Lambert is staring at yet another local bard singing the fucking ballad. He doesn’t even blink. Geralt is getting a little worried that his brother’s brain might have actually exploded.

“It says a Cat Witcher now,” he says, hoping it would get a reaction out of Lambert.

The redhead finally blinks. That’s probably good.

“A Cat Witcher who comes back to life only to find out his Wolf lover has already avenged him,” Geralt adds.

Lambert blinks again.

“And you know, I’m almost sure that this Master Dandelion is just Jaskier’s new alias.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Lambert mutters when the song finally comes to its end.

“Which one of them?” Geralt smirks.

“Both of them!” Lambert growls. “I swear to gods, if I find out your stupid bard stole my Cat…”

“Excuse me, madam,” Geralt says to the innkeeper who’s just brought them their dinner. “Where did your bard learn this song?”

“That sappy ballad?” the innkeeper frowns. “From this Master Dandelion himself. He passed through the town last week with a Witcher.”

“And Master Dandelion…”

“You know the bard that calls himself Jaskier? It’s him with a fancy hat on,” she smirks.

“About this Witcher,” Lambert growls. “Does he look like in the song?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Kind of small for a Witcher, and almost too pretty, you know, but we had a little griffin problem and he slayed that beast like it was nothing, so…”

“I’m so gonna kill them both,” Lambert murmurs while Geralt has to try very hard not to chuckle.

“Would you happen to know where were they heading?” he asks.

“I would,” the woman says and looks at the Witcher expectantly.

“I see,” Geralt sighs. “You have another monster problem, don’t you?”

“Well. It turns out the griffin probably had a mate…”

“Of course it fucking did,” Geralt nods and picks up his fork. He simply refuses to deal with this with an empty stomach…

*

Jaskier critically eyes the clothes he’s picked for tonight’s performance.

“What do you think, Aiden?” he asks his companion. “Isn’t the purple a bit too much? It’s a small town, after all. Wouldn’t the steel blue look better?”

“I don’t know, I like the red one best,” Aiden shrugs from his spot on the bed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Reminds you of Lambert’s hair,” Jaskier says, rolling his eyes. “Melitele’s tits, I wish he’d find us already, because this is getting really–”

As if on cue, the door of the room slams open and a big, red-haired man walks in.

“You fucking bitch!” he yells when he sees Aiden.

The dark-haired Witcher beams and gets to his feet.

“Lambs!”

“Oh. Okay. That was fast,” Jaskier nods.

Lambert growls and grabs Aiden by the collar.

“Asshole!” he hisses. “I fucking mourned you!”

“Oh, honey, that’s so sweet,” Aiden smiles.

Lambert pushes him against the wall, so hard that Aiden grunts.

“I cried for you!”

“In my defense, it wasn’t exactly my fault,” Aiden smiles.

Jaskier inches towards the door.

“I guess I’ll just… leave you two to it.”

Needless to say, Lambert ignores him completely.

“I fucking avenged you!”

“Yes, that was very kind of you,” Aiden grins, utterly unaffected by Lambert’s angry face so close to his own. “You saved me a lot of trouble.”

Lambert groans, buries his face in Aiden’s shoulder and sighs deeply.

“You fucker,” he mutters.

“Yeah, I missed you too, puppy,” Aiden smiles, wrapping his arms around Lambert.

Jaskier, who’s already standing in the doorway, places his hand on his heart and takes a deep breath.

“Oh,” he whispers. “I shall write the most beautiful ballad about this… Ow!”

He’s unceremoniously dragged out of the room and this time it’s his turned to be slammed against the wall by a big, angry Witcher – but this one is white-haired and dressed all in black.

“Geralt!” Jaskier exclaims, his face brightening up.

“You won’t write a fucking thing,” Geralt growls.

“Is that so? May I ask why, dear heart?”

“Because you’re mine. My bard. And if I ever find out you’re writing about another Witcher again–”

“Then what?” Jaskier asks, cocking his head. “But before you answer, I’d like to remind you that I am not yours anymore, as you have made it quite clear on the mountain that you are not interested in having me as a companion–”

Jaskier is effectively shut up by Geralt’s lips pressing against his with determination that makes it absolutely clear that Geralt hasn’t merely lost his balance and happened to be falling in Jaskier’s general direction.

“Mine,” he growls.

“Well,” Jaskier sighs, slipping his fingers into Geralt’s hair. “When you put it like that… Fuck the mountain, I suppose.”

“Fuck the mountain,” Geralt agrees. “But I’m sorry. For what I said.”

“Apology very much accepted,” Jaskier laughs. “I’d ask you to fuck me, but I’m afraid my room is currently… occupied.”

Lambert’s loud moan only confirms Jaskier’s statement.

“Hm,” Geralt hums. “Do you think this tavern has a bath? I think I still have some griffin blood in my hair from last week.”

“Oh,” Jaskier purrs. “Oh, yes. And I’m sure I could get some chamomile oil…”

They hear another moan, this time Aiden’s.

“What are we waiting for, then?” Geralt grins and grabs Jaskier’s hand. “Come on, bard. We have some catching up to do…”

[watchmegetobsessed]

Risk it - Harry Styles

a/n: this came so fast and typed most of it out at work lmao, but i kinda dig how it turned out!! hope you’ll like it too! as always, feedback is very much appreciated!

pairing: professor!Harry x Reader

warning: sexual content

word count: 11.8k

masterlist

You shake yourself a little bit to get rid of the spicy coldness that’s been lingering around in the city in the past few days. It’s only the end of August, but feels more like late October, though they say the warmness will return for a few more weeks shortly. That would be much needed, you’d love to enjoy some more lunches out in a park or down near the river before you are forced to withdraw into the insides for the rest of the year.

Looking around in the packed pub you look for the familiar golden locks of Piper and you quickly spot her in one of the corner booths, laughing joyfully with pinked cheeks probably from the almost empty pint of beer in front of her. Marching through the place you slide into the booth joining the group of three.

“And there she is!” Piper cheers.

“We thought you’re gonna bail on us,” Abigail snickers and you just roll your eyes.

“I said I would come, just had some work to finish before,” you tell them, shaking your cardigan down your arms quickly, the air is thicker, mustier and much warmer in here, but it’s not surprising, the pub is packed, just as usual on a Friday evening.

“You work way too much,” Piper shakes her head in disapproval as she downs the rest of her drink.

“I’ll be working way less from September.”

“Yeah, but you’ll spend the rest of the week in school, so it’s gonna be the same!” Mona chimes in with furrowed eyebrows.

“They promised me a fat raise if I get this degree within the next three years, I could definitely use the extra cash so I can finally buy my own place soon,” you explain.

You know they understand the situation and they wish you the best. They want to see you succeed in life and in your career, they just love teasing you about how dedicated you are towards your work, having to say immediately yes when your boss told you you’d get a new position and a raise if you finish the masters you never got to two years ago. You already had a handful of credits done that you’ll be able to get accepted, meaning you only have about one year worth of credits to finish in two years while working. It might get a little overwhelming to have an almost fulltime job and go to school but you’re determined to do this.

“We know, we know,” Abigail chuckles. “Alright, no more work or school talk tonight. We are here to let loose, so let’s get another round!”

Soon enough you are nursing a beer of your own, enjoying your time with your friends. It’s been long all four of you were free on the same night. Piper got married last year, Abigail’s work forces her to travel around a lot and Mona has a bitch of a boss, making her work overtime a lot, so it’s been hard to fix up a date that fits everyone. It’s been like this since you all finished your bachelors three years ago. You like to think you’re still a fresh little young adult who just barely stepped out into the big world, but it’s not true, hasn’t been for a while. You’re 24, you have a career, you live on your own, you take care of yourself fully. You are an adult, whether you like it or not.

Drink after drink, the four of you are getting tipsy, having an amazing time talking about the stories you shared back in university. Piper was your roommate first year uni, Mona and Abigail were in the room next to yours and you quickly became close friends, moved in for the rest of your studies until you all went your own ways after graduation, but keeping in touch as much as possible.

“I’m gonna get another one, but that’s gonna be my last one, because I have some work to finish in the morning,” you announce climbing out of the booth.

“No work talk!” Mona and Abigail shout at the same time making you laugh as you just wave them off and head to the bar.

You’ve been waiting for the line to get shorter, now only a few people are lingering around so you patiently wait for your turn, clutching onto your card in your hand. You don’t pay much attention to the tall guy next to you, only when someone bumps into you from behind and makes you fall against his side.

“Oh shoot, sorry! Someone pushed me,” you apologize immediately as the guy looks at you over his broad shoulder and your gaze meets a pair of green eyes framed with long lashes and a curious look in them.

“No worries, Love,” he smiles and you almost gasp at the British accent that laces through his voice. You take a quick moment to inspect the man, he is standing almost a full head above you, wearing a simple black shirt and brown slacks, a set of bulky rings sitting on his fingers that are spread out on the counter in front of him, his whole left arm covered in ink and you feel the urge to examine every figure on his golden skin. His chocolate curls are kind of a mess, but still look well placed, you bet he is the type who only runs his fingers through his hair and makes it look breathtaking. He is handsome and definitely your type, looks older than you, but you wouldn’t think he is over thirty.

“What’s your order?” he asks and your eyes snap up to him, realizing he is still looking at you.

“Huh?”

“What’s your order? I’ll get it for you so you don’t have to wait longer.” “Oh, I’ll just have a stout,” you tell him, feeling a little flushed from his offer. His eyebrows rise in surprise. “What?”

“Didn’t take you as a stout person is all,” he smirks at you as the bartender appears in front of him with his drink, asking if he wants anything else. “And a stout, please.” The guy nods and disappears to get your drink.

“I uhh—I only have card though,” you speak up realizing you can’t pay it back to him.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on me.”

“Oh, no, that wouldn’t be fair,” you protest and he seems amused that you don’t just let him pay for your drink.

“How about this: you pay for the next round. Me and my mates are sitting over there, just come over when you finish this,” he offers, pointing at two guys sitting a few booths away from you and your friends.

“This was supposed to be my last round. I have to work in the morning,” you breathe out tilting your head.

“What? Work on Saturday? What kind of job is so cruel to make you work on a Saturday morning?” he asks with a boyish smile.

“One that pays my bills and most importantly my beer,” you chuckle softly.

“Okay, then make it just a soda,” he cheekily says and you feel giddy that this man is so keen on having another drink with you.

“I guess that could work,” you smile just as the bartender appears with your drink and the handsome man pays for the drinks, just then you realize you don’t even know his name. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” you tell him taking your beer. He tugs his wallet into his pocket before holding a hand out for you.

“Harry. Nice to meet you,” he smiles warmly and the moment you take his hand, you feel the tiny sparks. This man is surely something else. “I’ll be waiting for our next round,” he cheekily tells you raising his glass before the two of you part and go back to your own groups. As expected, your friends are already waiting for you with wide eyes and excitement, having witnessed your little chat with Harry at the bar.

“Who was that?! No, wait, it doesn’t matter. You need to go home with him!” Abigail smacks her hand to the table earning a chuckle from you.

“Don’t be dramatic, I just met him.”

“And you have to get to know him better. Deeper, you know what I mean?” Mona prompts.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you all. He is hot, but I’m not looking to day anyone right now.”

“You know, it’s starting to get boring to hear you say that you are just working on yourself these days. That’s not what you’re doing,” Piper gives you a look. “You are wasting your time on work and school and all these stuff that will be there when you’re older. Live a little, Y/N!” she begs.

“You guys make me appear like a no fun bitch, but that’s not who I am!” you defend yourself, though you know they just want the best for you.

“A fun bitch would ditch us right now and go over to their booth and then ride his dick all night.”

You gasp at the unfiltered answer you just heard from Mona, but deep down, you know she is right. You haven’t really let yourself be a little crazy in a while, your one night stands stopped the moment you graduated and stepped into the world of work. It just didn’t fit into your everydays, you had a lot to worry about, making a living and keeping your life on track, but you have it all now. What’s stopping you from hooking up with a cute guy?

“I’m not gonna just ditch you guys, came here to spend time with you!”

“Shut up, we are leaving then,” Abigail snaps, downing the rest of her drink in a blink of an eye and for a moment you’re speechless.

“What? No! We never get to spend quality time together, all four of us!”

“Honey,” Mona sighs. “We love you and we know you need this. So go, get the tatted hottie and we’ll meet up another time when you’ll get to tell us all about how good the D was.”

“Jesus, you guys are unbelievable,” you chuckle shaking your head, accepting the fact that they are really forcing you to do this.

They all quickly finish their drinks and get ready to leave, hugging you before they exit the place, leaving you alone in the booth. Staring down at the stout in front of you, feeling nervous to just walk up to the guys a few tables away, though Harry told you to go over, however he didn’t invite you to join their group, just promised another round.

You take a few long gulps, hoping the strong drink will bring out your courage and before you could talk yourself down you grab your bag and drink, heading over to Harry and his friends. He is sitting at the far end so he easily spots you walking over, perching up in his seat when he sees you approaching.

“Hey,” you greet them all with a shy smile, waving around. There’s a blond guy sitting across Harry and a brunette with equally as many tattoos on his arms as Harry.

“Hey, you haven’t finished your drink,” Harry observes with a small smirk.

“Um, no. But my friends left and I was wondering if I could… join you guys.”

“Oh, the honor is yours! Take a seat beautiful!” the blonde one immediately slides further into the booth so you can sit across Harry. “I’m Niall, what’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“So very nice to meet you,” he grins at you, words thick with Irish accent. “That’s Louis over there,” he gestures towards the third man who nods in your way with a welcoming smile.

“Hi. I’m hoping I’m not interrupting though.”

“Oh, never,” Niall shakes his head immediately. “We saw you chatting up Harry at the bar, have been teasing him about going up to you since then,” he cheekily comments and you see Harry giving him a look, but Niall couldn’t care less.

All three of them are hilarious and you love the dynamic in their friendship. Niall is clearly the loud one, Louis is the cheeky who is always up for some mischief and Harry is somewhat the serious bloke, but it’s clear he doesn’t say no to any crazy ideas his two friends make up. You love the teasing and joking, they make you feel welcomed and as if you’d known them for longer than just an hour. As promised, you pay for Harry’s next drink, but you stick to just a lemonade, not wanting to overstep your own boundaries.

All while you’re sitting with the guys, you keep catching Harry eyeing you, your gazes meet over your drinks and at one point you feel his leg finding yours under the table, your ankles pressing together as he nudges you with his feet. You feel like a giddy teenager flirting with her crush, Harry’s effect on you is probably very clear too, but you don’t care.

Louis is the first one to leave and Niall follows not long later, leaving you alone with Harry. The nerves are raging in you as you try to figure out which way to take it. Though he seems like a nice guy, you still don’t want to take it any further than a hookup. Dating is just not in the cards for you right now. But how do you imply a one night stand? Do you ask him to come to your place? Or do you go to his? You would rather go to his so you can sneak out first thing in the morning, spare you an awkward talk over breakfast before you leave.

“We should… get going too,” you suggest and Harry nods in agreement, finishing up the last gulps of his beer. You take a deep breath and decide to just be straight forward. “Maybe I could go to yours? Have another round there?” Your suggestion comes out fainter than you intended, but you still manage to sound confident. Harry seems a little surprised, but he doesn’t voice it.

“Another? Thought you were done for the night,” he tells with an amused smirk.

“I’m sure you have something alcohol free,” you shrug innocently.

“I surely do,” he nods. “Alright, let’s get going.

He calls an Uber and the two of you sit close in the car, thighs touching and at one point his large hand finds your thigh, squeezing it gently that sets a fire in your core almost immediately. It’s been long you’ve been touched by a man, you were starting to forget what it feels like, but you know Harry will remind you well about it.

He lives in a nice townhouse and you note how it’s not too far from the campus you’ll be going to a lot in a week. He keys the two of you in, switching the lights on in his cozy home. It’s not messy, more like lived in. A lot of books everywhere, the furniture doesn’t match, but all together, the whole place is pulled together somehow. It’s very like him.

“So, what would you like to drink?” he asks walking into the open concept kitchen, grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. “I have some tea, orange juice, water…”

As you watch his broad back, his muscles moving under the soft fabric of his shirt, you quickly forget about any drink. You want him and you want him now. Walking up to him you slide between him and the kitchen counter, catching him by surprise when you cup his face in your hands and pull him down into a hard kiss, but a moment later his arms wrap around you, lifting you up from the ground until you are sat on the counter. You open your knees so he stands between them, his crotch meeting yours as you kiss messily, all tongues, tugging and nipping, but oh my! You absolutely love it. The man has a mouth full of magic and you can only imagine what else he can do with those lips.

A whimpered moan leaves your mouth when you feel his growing bulge rub against your core as his lips travel down your jawline and throat, kissing and licking on your heated skin.

“Harry, bedroom,” you demand grabbing onto his shoulders and he doesn’t waste a moment, picking you up into his arms and heading somewhere down the hallway. You can’t quite comprehend what way it is, you’re way too lost in the feeling of his lips on your collarbone and neck, surely leaving marks on you.

He lays you down to a king sized bed and gets on top of you right away, following his wandering down your body. His ring clad fingers work fast on the hem of your shirt, pulling it off you in a moment before he kneels up and gets rid of his own shirt. He looks breathtaking, all the tattoos littering his chest and stomach, you just want to kiss all of them, feel his skin on your lips.

As he unbuckles his leather belt you push down your skinny jeans, throwing the item to the side without ever taking your hands off him. The man surely has all your attention.

When his slacks join the rest of your clothes on the floor he climbs on top of you again, kissing down the valley between your breasts that are still covered in the lacy bra. Your underwear doesn’t match, but something is telling you Harry is more eager to see you without them than to examine them. When he hooks his fingers into your panties and starts pulling them down, you reach to your back, unclasping the bra and in a blink of an eye, you’re lying completely naked in front of him.

“Fuck, you look so hot, Y/N,” he breathes out before those magical lips start working on your nipples, making you moan and whimper under him.

Kissing down your stomach he spreads your thighs wide, gazing down at your naked sex and for a moment you feel a little self-conscious, but the lust in Harry’s eyes quickly makes it disappear.

“You’re gonna let me have a taste, baby?” he murmurs, sending shivers down your spine as you nod eagerly.

He is not a tease. Harry dives right in, his lips meeting your clit, working his magic and you cry out his name, fingers tangling into his locks to keep him in place, not that he is about to stop anytime soon. He clearly enjoys pleasuring you.

“Oh fuck!” you gasp when his tongue runs down your slit and he slowly pushes into you, making your back arch. You need him inside you, you need him to fill you up right now or else you’ll burst. “Harry,” you breathe out, tugging on his shoulders, urging him to come back up.

He climbs up your body, a satisfied smirk on his glistening lips and when he kisses you hungrily, you can taste yourself on him.

“Condom,” you urge him, hands pushing down on his briefs, lips still locked as he reaches to the bedside table. You hear the familiar sound of the package ripping before he leans back, your eyes falling on his naked erection for the first time and your lips part seeing his cock, knowing already he’ll feel you up so well. He rolls the condom on easily before returning to you, but you don’t stay in that position too long. You want to ride this man, see him come undone under you. Being on top is already one of your favorite positions, but with Harry, you just know it’s going to be amazing.

You push on his shoulder and he understands your intention without a spoken word, so he rolls to his back and lets you straddle him, glancing down at his cock that’s now grazing his lower stomach, so hard and throbbing just for you. His fingers dig into your hips when you wrap a hand around his length, positioning him to your center.

“Oh fuck!” he moans when you ease down, his cock filling you up inch to inch, feeling so amazing like nothing before.

“Shit,” you breathe out gasping when you sit on him fully, taking his whole length inside you, stretching your insides so nicely, your wet walls hugging him perfectly.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs lowly as you start buckling your hips, moving back and forth, up and down, the friction you’re creating swallowing you up entirely.

Harry can’t take his eyes off you, a hand wandering up to cup your breast and you cover his hand with yours, encouraging him to squeeze, making you moan passionately. He starts buckling his hips in sync with your movements, meeting you with every little thrust, hitting just the right spots, building up your orgasm so easily like no man has ever done before.

“Harry, oh God!” you moan, falling forward, leaning onto your arms next to his head, your lips meet in a hungry and demanding kiss as he wraps his arms around your body, thrusting up into you hard and so good, you whimper against his lips.

“You’re gonna cum for me, baby? I wanna see you feel good,” he pants, never slowing down. A few moments later he rolls the two of you around, your back hitting the sheets again as he moves one of your legs to rest on his shoulder, hitting a spot that almost makes you see stars.

“Oh yes! There! Don’t fucking stop!” you cry out so loud, you can only hope the walls are thick enough to keep your voice locked in the room.

“Not planning to,” he chuckles shortly before burying his face in the crook of your neck. You hold onto him for dear life, fingers digging into his sweaty skin, feeling as if you are melting into him.

Harry rocks into you relentlessly, your toes curling as you feel your orgasm finally arriving, making you gasp for air.

“Harry! I’m gonna cum!” you moan and he lifts his head, never stopping, not even for a second. His green eyes lock on your gaze, curls flopping into his forehead as he watches you in awe.

“Let it go for me, baby. Cum all over me, I wanna see how good I’m making you feel.”

“So fucking good!”

He picks up his pace just enough to make you lose your mind. It hits you like a pile of bricks, your orgasm washing over you in intense waves as you moan his name again and again. Your walls clench around him and it’s enough to throw him over the edge as well. His thrusts become uncoordinated and harder as his mouth hangs open.

“Fuck, Y/N! You feel so fucking amazing!” he whimpers through his pleasure and you watch him fall apart, panting and gasping for air, trying to remember every little detail about him. This is an experience you surely won’t forget and will probably fantasize about a lot when you’re alone at home, playing with yourself, seeking release.

A few more sloppy thrusts later he stops, kissing your lips passionately before he pulls out and falls to the mattress next to you. You both need a few minutes to recover from it, just panting and laying numbly next to each other, Harry’s arm thrown over your stomach. You turn to the side and immediately meet his glistening eyes, filled with satisfaction and bliss. When he finally recollects himself he pecks your lips softly before leaving the bed. You watch him remove the used condom, tie it and toss it into the small trash can near his dressed before he moves to the bathroom. When he reappears, he is wearing a fresh pair of boxers and he has a wet washcloth in his hand. Sitting beside you he gently cleans you up as you murmur your thank you.

“Want something to sleep in?” he asks then and you nod. He grabs you a t-shirt and a pair of loose shorts that you put on gladly. They smell exactly like him, soap, something citrus-like and a hint of anise.

He returns to bed and pulls you into his embrace, you gladly make yourself comfortable curled up to his side. Lying there, feeling his fingers gently running up and down your arm almost makes you want more from him. You could get used to share a bed with him and it’s not just because of the mind-blowing sex, but he is a lovable person. You feel bad you’re planning to leave without a trace in the morning, but then you tell yourself it’s what has to happen.

Harry doses off soon and you follow him right after, the warmth of his body puts you to sleep easily. When you wake up it’s still clearly early. Harry is sleeping soundly next to you, face squished into the pillow and you almost stay, wanting to see what he’s like in the morning, but you don’t let yourself change your mind.

You get dressed into your own clothes and leave the ones he lent you on top of his dresser. You tiptoe out of his room and grab your bag before looking for a piece of paper and a pen. You quickly scribble down a short note for him.

“Had fun last night. Hope you won’t be mad, but I only saw it as a one night stand. You’re an amazing man, Harry. I’m glad we met. Xx  –Y/N”

It’s more than nothing, than leaving without a word and you don’t let the guilt take over you. Taking one last look around, glancing in the way of the bedroom where he is still asleep, you pack it all up and put it to the back of your mind before walking out.

The last week before your classes start passes by faster than you imagined. It’s your last week fully in the office so you try to work a little ahead, staying in afterhours so you won’t have that much to take care of while you get used to being a uni student again. You usually get home after nine and basically fall into bed right away, and you even work during the weekend before the Monday when school starts. You go to bed way too late so it’s not a surprise you wake up late. You get ready in a rush, throwing out your plan to get a coffee on your way out the window since you are way behind time. Running across campus you’re lucky you already know your way around so you don’t have to wander around, looking for the room you have to be at, but even when you finally reach the right hallway you’re ten minutes late to the class.

Introduction to International Relations, held by Prof. Styles, 8.30-10.00, it reads on the little timetable attached to the way next to the closed doors and you pray the man didn’t start in time, so you’d be late with just a few minutes. Taking a deep breath you push the door open trying to make no sound and unfortunately, you are met with an auditorium full of people, everyone looking at you as if it was against the law to be a little late to class.

What the Hell is wrong with students these days? Being late was usual when I was a freshman, you think to yourself as you step inside, closing the door behind you, getting ready to apologize to the professor.

“I’m so sorry, Professor Styles, I—Shit,” you end your sentence with a whisper as your eyes fall on the man standing on the podium. He hasn’t turned to you, his eyes are fixed on a paper in his hand, probably the syllabus because he must have been in the middle of introducing the class, but the sudden whispering that starts upon your apology that turned into shit, he finally looks up and his eyes fall on your frozen figure.

Professor Styles is none other than Harry. As in The Harry you met at the pub a week ago, had the best sex with and left without leaving your number to him in the morning. Now he is staring back at you with the same amount of panic and surprise as you.

“What—I uhh…” He clears his throat, looking around and seeing about a hundred pairs of curious eyes who are witnessing the awkward run-in. “Take a seat,” he then firmly says, clenching his jaw as you nod.

With your heart beating in your throat you keep your eyes down on your feet as you rush over to a free seat somewhere at the front, since the back is already kinda full.

“So, uhh—As I was saying this is an introduction so we’ll talk about a lot of different topics, I want you to have a view of the most important aspects before moving onto separate fields.”

You don’t dare to look up as Harry talks about the class, the syllabus, how the semester will be built up and what you’ll have to do to pass. Scribbling your wobbly notes, you nervously bounce your legs under the desk, flashbacks from your time with him popping into your mind through the whole lecture.

This feels like something straight out of a ridiculous movie. How is it possible, that the one time you finally decide to have a one night stand with a hot guy, he turns out to be your professor?! That’s just your luck, it seems.

Harry doesn’t drag the lecture long, dismisses everyone after an hour once every question has been answered. You plan to escape right away, but it turns out Harry doesn’t want to just sweep it under the rug.

“Can I have a word with you?” he asks stepping to your desk as you are furiously shoving your stuff into your bag.

“Uh, sure,” you nod, not like you have a choice. You’d love to run, but he is your professor, it would sit well if you ditched him on the first day of school.

You slow your packing down so you finish right when the last student has left the room. Grabbing your bag you turn to face Harry who now seems furious, vivid if you might say. He strides over to the door and shuts it before facing you.

“You said you’re working!” is the first thing he throws at you, making you raise your eyebrows.

“Because I am! I’m finishing my masters so I can get a promotion!” you defend yourself.

“Wait, so how old are you?” he asks with a puzzled look.

“I’m twenty-four, what did you think?” You feel offended, did he think you were younger or older? Neither would sit well anyway, so there’s no good answer.

“I-I don’t know, but when you walked right into my class I surely thought you were twenty or something,” he explains exhaling sharply. “Okay, so twenty-four. But still, you could have told me you are a student here.”

“Excuse you? Why would have I told you, we met that night, of course I didn’t share my whole fucking life with you! Besides, you didn’t say a thing about being a college professor either,” you spat at him and it seems like he realizes your argument is quite valid. He can’t blame it all on you.

“Okay, you’re right. Sorry.”

There’s a short silence as the anger dies down and the awkwardness and shock returns. It’s such an impossible situation, you never thought you’d have to deal with anything similar. Having an affair with your professor? This shit is straight out of some teenage drama.

“I can… drop the lecture, if you want. Only took it as extra credit, because I was interested in it,” you offer the first rational option that comes to your mind.

“No, I mean… you don’t have to. Messing around with credits at this time sucks, you wouldn’t be able to find something else.”

“Okay, so then what?”

“I guess we’ll just pretend like nothing happened,” he shrugs before his eyes meet yours. “Like you did in the morning when you left without leaving your number.”

His comment spikes, you can tell he was hurt that you didn’t stay, though now is probably not the best time to bring it up.

“Well, sorry. I didn’t think of it as more,” you dryly say.

“That’s not how you came off, however. Having laughs with me and my friends like we’ve known each other for years and then…” he doesn’t finish, but you have an idea what he wanted to say. And then you had insanely good sex and fell asleep cuddling. It feels illegal to even think about it in this building.

“Look, I’m really sorry I left like that, but look at it this way: if we would have taken it further, it would be way worse now, wouldn’t it?”

“Maybe we would have talked more later and found out about this and wouldn’t have had to face each other under these circumstances.”

He has a point, but it doesn’t matter now. The past is the past and you have to figure out how to treat this odd situation.

“You think you can forget about it and we can be professional? I really don’t want this to affect my studies,” you truthfully ask. Harry stares at you for a long moment before nodding.

“I think we can make it work. We are both adults, let’s put it behind us.” You nod, satisfied with his answer. “So what’s your major and why do you need it for your job?”

“It’s communication. I’m set to take over our international partnership groups, but the board is set on having someone with a higher degree. I told my boss I started it back then but never finished when I started working. He said I would instantly get the position if I finished my masters, so… here I am.”

Harry nods, chewing on your answer. Suddenly, as you look at him, guilt washes over you. He is such a genuine and lovely man, yet you left so abruptly, never even giving him a chance. Not that it would have made this situation any different, but it seems like you hurt him.

“Harry, I really am sorry for leaving. I had a great time with you, but I don’t think dating just fits into my life right now. I felt like you’d want more and I didn’t want to deal with all the explaining and apologizing.”

“I get it. It just would have been nicer to talk it out. Not that it makes a change now,” he adds with a soft smile.

“So we’re good?” you ask hopefully.

“Yeah. Professional and all,” he smiles nodding and you feel like a rock has been lifted off your shoulders.

“Great. Well, I guess I’ll see you later, professor,” you add a little cheekily and you see the fire in his eyes instantly, but he holds his tongue, not commenting on how sexual it sounds from your mouth. You couldn’t miss out on the teasing.

“Dismissed,” he nods turning away from you as he walks back to his desk. You walk out with the longest sigh that’s ever left your lips.

“Professor Styles! You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Piper screams at you over Facetime later that week when the two of you have your usual little chat. You’re making dinner while she lies on her couch, staring at you from the screen with the widest eyes. You just told him the whole thing with Harry and she almost choked. “The man is a professor? This shit is wild!” “Not just a professor, he is my fucking teacher, Piper!” you chuckle awkwardly. You still haven’t fully wrapped your mind around the fact that you hooked up with your professor.

“How old is the dude to be teaching at a university?”

“Well, he said he is twenty-nine. I might have done a little search and since he is british, schooling was a little different for him. Apparently, he finished high school early as a fucking genius that he is, then uni, masters and everything. He started teaching at my school two years ago. The guy is like a big name in the field of social sciences.”

“Damn, he is a gem. So what’s gonna happen now? Y’all gonna fuck on his desk after class?”

“Piper!” you snap at her.

“What? I hope you’re not thinking about passing on him.”

“I passed on him way before I knew he was my professor. We can’t have anything going on because one, he is my professor and two, because I’m not looking for anyone to date.”

“You are so full of bullshit, Y/N,” she snorts. “So what if he is your professor? Just for this semester. Keep it a secret and then it’s done. You’re not some eighteen year-old freshman, he is just five years older than you.”

“You can’t be serious,” you shake your head. “I’m not going to have an affair with my teacher.”

“Not an affair, a relationship! You gotta hold onto good dick if you find one. This is what I did with Ronan,” she smirks satisfied.

“Yeah, it’s not happening.”

“Why not?”

“Piper, have you been listening to what I was saying?” you ask in disbelief. “Yeah, five years is not much, but I’m pretty sure there’s a rule against teachers dating students.”

“Rules are for losers. You literally found the perfect guy and you’ll just throw him away? Said it yourself after your hookup that you liked the guy. Why are you being so difficult?”

“Sorry for not wanting to get myself or Harry out of the university,” you scoff turning the stove off under the sauce before you burn it all.

“Harry? So you’re just calling him Harry?” Piper wiggles her eyebrows at you, leaning closer to the camera and you just groan at her. How was this the only thing that stuck to her?

“I can’t fucking believe you,” you mumble under your breath.

“Okay, yeah, I get you. I truly do. But I’m also your friend who wants to see you happy. So I’m just saying that if he makes a move… be open. He is your professor for only one semester, so once it’s over you are free to do whatever. Fuck, date, anything.”

Soon enough you fall into a pattern with your everydays. Mondays, Tuesdays and Friday mornings are for school. Wednesdays and Thursdays are spent on campus at your lectures and you usually go into the office on Friday afternoons to make sure everything works fine before you go off for the weekend. Having so many credits accepted from before, you have less classes meaning that you have less work to do with school as well. There are a few papers and assignments, but nothing too crazy. You genuinely enjoy your classes, each of them unique in a different way but if you’re being honest, Harry’s class is your favorite. He has done a great job at building up the lectures. Introduction classes tend to be shallow and boring, but not Harry’s. He has chosen interesting but still important topics and he makes sure the students are always involved and he isn’t just reading up his slides dully. There are a lot of discussions, everyone gets to tell their opinion and Harry genuinely seems interested in anything his students have to say.

You also came to realize his class is full of girls, only a handful of men dared to sign up. You didn’t pay attention the first time for obvious reasons, but as you looked around the next week you saw heart eyes and lustful gazes towards the man standing on the podium talking. You’re not sure if Harry doesn’t notice it or just chooses to ignore it, but he is doing a good job at staying professional. In the aspect of your situation as well.

For a bit you were afraid he would have hard feelings towards you or treat you differently, but it’s not the case. You are just another pair of curious eyes and ears at his lectures, only that sometimes you catch yourself daydreaming about that one night. When that happens you can always feel yourself blushing and an irrational fear that Harry can hear your thoughts invades your mind, though it’s stupid. But you always try to stay low just in case.

 It’s early October when an unexpected project lands in your hands at work, setting you back in your schedule. You work through the weekend just to get it right but that means that you couldn’t start working on your paper for Harry’s class that has to be turned in by the end of the week. So next Monday morning when class is over you walk up to him to ask for some more time.

“Hey, can I have a word with you?” you ask and as he glances up at you he seems surprised you initiated a private conversation.

“Sure, what’s the matter?”

“I just wanted to ask if I could have just a little more time to turn my paper in. I know it’s due Friday, but I’m a little behind and it would be amazing if I could work on it on the weekend. I’m sure I’d be done by next Monday.”

You’re afraid he might think you want to use your history and take advantage of it, but it seems like Harry looks more concerned than upset about your request.

“Yeah, sure. Everything alright though?”

Your eyes wander around the room, only a few more people are left inside and they are heading out as well. For some reason, you are a little paranoid that someone might figure out what happened between you and Harry though it’s nearly impossible.

“I’m good, I just got some extra work last week and it totally threw me off.”

“Oh, what kind of project?”

“I just have to put together a communication plan for three of our partners and it’s taking way more time than I expected,” you admit with a chuckle.

“I think I have an amazing book about international communication plans. I could lend it to you, if you’d like. It has amazing tips on sustainability.”

“That would be… amazing,” you say, surprised by his nice offer.

“Are you on campus tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I have a lecture. I can come by your office.”

“Fantastic,” he smiles warmly. “And don’t worry about the paper. You’re not the first one to ask for more time. If you hand it in on Monday it’s gonna be perfectly fine,” he assures you.

“Thank you Harry. I-I mean Professor Styles,” you correct yourself, feeling awkward that you called him by his first name, but he just chuckles.

“You can call me Harry outside class.” “Okay,” you smile nodding. “Then, see you tomorrow,” you say as you leave the room.

You spend the rest of the day working unfortunately, still a lot to do with your project. It’s hard to harmonize three different companies from three nations, working in different time zones. The next day you decide to skip your lecture in the noon. The professor is not too strict on attendance so you’re just gonna find a nice coffee place, set up a temporary office and work some more so you can finish everything on time.

You find Harry’s office easily. The door is open and you spot him sitting behind his desk right away, searching for something in a stack of papers. His office resembles a lot to his home, it has a cozy vibe but looks still very much academic with all the books lining on the shelves on the two sides of his desk. You knock on the doorframe as you arrive and his green eyes shoot up to your figure.

“Hey! Come on in!” he smiles at you. “Just a moment please,” he asks, still vigorously flipping the pages until he finally stops. “Here it is, I’ve been looking for it for ages,” he mumbles to himself and you smile. He looks a lot like the version of him you met at the bar. A fun, nice guy, clearly a little lost in his own world, but it amuses you rather then annoys. You wonder what could be happening in that brilliant mind of his.

He pushes himself away from the table and walks over to his bag that lies on the small sofa in the corner. Digging into it he pulls out a thick book that he hands over to you.

“Wow, lengthy,” you chuckle as you flip through the pages quickly.

“Yeah, looks a little dry but I promise it’s good. I put a note to the chapters that are the most relevant to you,” he explains and just then you spot a yellow post-it on one of the pages, a few more following behind.

“Oh, thank you. That’s really nice of you.” You smile up at him warmly, holding the book to your chest. “I’ll bring it back as soon as I’m done.”

“Take your time,” he nods. “And how is it going so far?”

“Uh, it’s… going,” you say with a tired chuckle. “It’s a little tricky, but I’m sure I’ll solve it. I’m gonna work some more on it now, so hopefully I’ll be done within the next few days.”

“You’re not going to class?”

“No, I allowed myself a skip this week so I’m gonna find a café or something.”

“You could… stay here, if you’d like. I could even help if you let me have a look at it. I mean I’m not an expert in communication but I’m good with multicultural stuff.” His offer catches you by surprise and for a moment you want to say no, but then you realize he might actually be helpful. Another set of eyes is always beneficial.

“You don’t have a class?”

“Not until four, no.”

“And you sure I can stay? I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not. Please, I would love to take a look at what you’ve put together.”

You hesitate for another moment, but then let your bag slip off your shoulder as you walk over to the armchair in front of his desk.

You pull your laptop out of your bag and set it on the table so both of you can see from the two sides of the desk. You open up what you have so far, explaining it in details and Harry listens intently, nodding and humming along so you know he is following. At the end you tell him your concerns, the ones you’ve been trying to rule out these past few days so you can finish it all up.

“This looks amazing, Y/N. I’m very impressed by the way you synchronized it all.” “Thank you, but it’s not perfect, so I have a lot to work on. Any thoughts though?”

Harry asks you a few questions before he gives his two cents, telling you what he would do and change. His point of view actually helps a lot, allows you to see the whole thing from a different angle and he gives you some awesome tips. Before you could realize, the two of you are deep in the project, all kinds of books splattered across his desks as you work together to finish the thing. Two hours pass by as it was just two minutes, but at the end, you have it all figured out.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe it’s done!” you breathe out, scrolling through the document you put together for your boss. Everything is put together, well-thought and in place, thanks to Harry’s help. “Harry, thank you. You literally saved my life,” you chuckle softly, leaning back in the armchair you haven’t left in hours.

“You had a strong base, I just helped you find a few solutions, but it was all you.”

“Don’t belittle it, you literally had so many ideas even in fields you are not familiar with. You really are a genius.”

“I’m just good at using my sources,” he smiles at you, glancing down at all the books he has pulled out during the process. “It was fun working on something so practical, I’m way too used to literal things.”

“Oh stop, you want me to feel bad because you are this ridiculously smart college professor who doesn’t get to work on practical projects?” you tease him earning a boyish smile.

“Maybe I do want that.”

“Well, you’re not getting it,” you laugh and he joins you. Once the mood settles you realize how good it felt to be around him. The dynamic the two of you had was so great, working with him felt like a fun activity. And now that you’re done, you really don’t want to leave this office though you know you have to.

“You know, I might come to you with work stuff all the time. You just spared so much time for me, I really thought I wouldn’t finish before Friday.”

“My door is always open,” he smirks shrugging. “I’m glad we got to work together. You really are great at what you are doing. Your boss is lucky to have you around. I’m sure you’ll be an amazing group leader once you get your degree.”

“Thank you.”

His compliment actually means a lot. Aside from this weird situation, Harry is a brilliant mind in his field. Hearing him tell you that he thinks you are doing an amazing work is such a boost to your ego.

“Well, I owe you one for this,” you tell him as you start packing up.

“Yeah? I’ll keep that in mind for sure,” he smirks, watching you put your things away.

“Mhm, see you around, Harry,” you smile, waving in his way before walking out.

“See you, Y/N.”

Thanks to Harry you get to turn in your project in time and write his paper until the original due date as well. You send it in email and for your biggest surprise he answers later that day.

“Glad you could finish in time, can’t wait to read your thoughts on the topic! –H”

It’s a simple message, but what catches your eyes is the signature at the end. It reads his full name, Prof. Harry Edward Styles, the school’s name, his official office hours and at the very end… his phone number.

Looking at it you think it seems a little out of place, as if it doesn’t belong there originally, he just added it to your email, but you can’t tell. Is this a hint? Does he want you to call or text him? What if he puts it into every email, not just yours? Would it be awkward to text? Why do you even want to text him in the first place? You agreed to stay away from him!

It keeps eating you the whole evening, staying on your mind, doesn’t matter what you do. After you’ve drunk a glass of wine with your dinner you finally make up your mind, convincing yourself it’s strictly friendly as you type in the words.

Y/N: Turned my project in, my boss already emailed me he likes it so far. Thanks for the help again. –Y/N

His reply comes fast and luckily, he doesn’t question why you decided to text him.

Harry: Glad I could help! Ran over your paper, looks great too. You’re doing an amazing job, Y/N.

There’s no stopping after that. The two of you keep talking through texts and though it’s all casual and friendly, you don’t feel bad about it, because in class, you still keep it professional and you have no advantage. He treats you just like any other student, keeping your friendship away from whatever happens in the classroom.

The line slowly starts to blur, however. You think way more about Harry than you should and you actually find yourself regretting that you’re not able to get as close to him as you want. He fascinates and attracts you in ways no one ever could before and something is telling you he shares these feelings, but you are both keeping it at bay, afraid what would happen if you let your desires take the lead. You just wish you could go out with him, have drinks with him and his friends like the night you met him, forget about how he would always stand on the podium on Monday morning no matter what happens and he’ll be grading your papers. Mixing feelings with this impossible situation might turn it into a disaster and you know you have to stay strong, but it’s getting harder.

Harry is the kind of teacher who likes to finish his class before everyone else, so when December rolls around everyone already has their grades from the papers that had to be turned in through the semester, so when December rolls around it’s all just free talks, he starts interesting discussions about topics students want to talk about. His lectures feel like free time but still, no one skips them because they are always so entertaining and interesting.

“Alright, we’ll meet for the last time next week. As per suggested, we’ll talk about the European Union so get your questions and thoughts ready,” he smiles around, ending the lecture. “Y/N? Can we talk for a second?”

“Sure,” you smile at him. Putting your things away you walk up to his desk much more carelessly than before.

“So I have a question and you can totally tell me if you don’t want to go, but there’s this great International Affairs Summit next weekend just a few towns over, not more than a two hours ride. I thought that you might be interested in going? They’ll have some awesome presentations and displays, thought it might interest you.”

For the first time since you’ve met him, he seems nervous, stumbling over his words a little as he avoids looking into your eyes. He looks so much younger, not at all like the respected professor that he is. He is just Harry now, the guy you bonded over that stout he paid for.

“Sounds nice,” you answer smiling at him, he seems surprised at your answer. “I would love to go.”

“Really?” You chuckle at his disbelief.

“Really.”

“Just to be clear it’s not a school thing, it’s gonna be the two of us,” he clears and your grin widens.

“It’s clear. Still want to go.”

“Amazing,” he breathes out, a smile finally tugging on his lips. “I can pick you up in the morning.”

“Sure. Can we discuss the details in text? I have a meeting soon.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. We’ll talk later,” he nods enthusiastically, seemingly very joyful that you agreed to go on this trip with him.

“See you later, Harry!” you wave at him walking out of the classroom.

“Later!”

Piper would be very satisfied to know that you are going away with Harry this weekend. Though you still try to tell yourself it’s nothing more than just a friendly thing, you’re not fooling yourself. You want it to be more and now that the semester is over, your doubts and fears are almost fully forgotten and left at the beginning of September. Soon Harry won’t be your professor and you now see that it wouldn’t be that bad if something more happened between the two of you. You grew close through the year even though you only kept in touch through phone, appearing publicly wasn’t really an option, but still, you got to know him better and you liked him. A lot. There was no use in denying that.

Harry picks you up early in the morning and so the little trip begins. You take control over the music and play some of your favorites to him while he drives, educating him on recent popular music. Then he shows you some of his favorites, playing a lot of Fleetwood Mac and you weren’t expecting anything else from him.

He looks great today in a creamy colored knitted sweater, black wool coat and grey checkered slacks. His hair is now longer than when you met him for the first time, but it just adds to his amazing look, he rocks it pretty well.

The two hours pass by fast and you arrive to the Summit. Checking out the program the two of you choose the presentations you’re most interested in, leaving some time in the middle of the day to have lunch somewhere near.

You choose a sandwich bar that has a nice winter garden at the back looking out to a little pond. You sit at a small table, the conversation hasn’t stopped since the morning, only paused when the presentations were happening, but you always picked up right where you were before. Harry tells you about his time at university back in the UK and you’re a little surprised to hear that he was kind of a wild kid for a while.

“You? Wild?” you laugh. “I can’t picture it.

“It was mostly the first year though. Felt like I can’t miss out on anything so I was at every party and gathering,” he chuckles softly.

“And why did you stop?” “I don’t know,” he shrugs, but you know he is not telling you the truth, so you gently kick his leg under the table. “Alright, but you can’t laugh!”

“I won’t, I promise!”

“It sounds very nerdy, but I fell in love with studying. I mean I was always a good student, that’s why I could finish high school earlier, but I did it to be done with it already. But then I grew an odd love to studying, to learning new things. I wanted to read every book there is, know everything in the world.”

“And do you know everything now?” you ask with a soft smile, completely in awe with how he talks about his passion for sciences. You don’t find it funny at all, more admirable.

“Not even a fraction of it,” he chuckles. “But I learn something new every day,” he shrugs.

“What did you learn today?”

“That Nicki Minaj and Miley Cyrus had… beef?” He is a little unsure about the last word that you taught him today in the car when you were listening to a song from Miley. It sounds so funny hearing from his mouth.

“Yeah, beef,” you nod chuckling. “Great knowledge you’ve learned today.”

“I learn a lot from you,” he smiles cheekily. “But really. I’m glad you could come today. Felt like I needed to take this step since you took the one before this.”

“Huh?” you ask, a little confused about what he is talking about. Then, as if he realizes he just said something he shouldn’t have, he chuckles nervously, keeping his eyes on his iced tea on the table.

“Well, I hope this won’t be too weird, but when you emailed me your paper back in October and I replied… I put my phone number into my signature and told myself that if you use it, I’ll take it as a hint that you… are open to more. And you did send me a text, took the risk so I thought I should be taking it next.”

You look at him in awe. So you were right, he did put his number in just for you and wanted you to use it. You’re amazed at how sneaky he was to find out how you’re feeling about him, but now you’re glad you took the risk and texted him.

“So you asked me to come today. I see where we are standing,” you nod smirking.

“You’re not mad? At the number thing?”

“Why would I?” you ask with a soft chuckle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yes, but we agreed to keep it professional and all along I yearned for something more and threw you this hint. When I sent the email I wanted to take it back immediately, thinking that you’d see through me right away,” he admits.

“Well, I didn’t,” you tell him making him laugh. “I debated for a long time whether I should text you or not and then just… said fuck it!”

“I’m glad you did,” he smirks and his gaze holds yours for a little, you can feel the moment you’re sharing. This conversation has definitely opened a door for the two of you.

The rest of the day passes by peacefully. You love having Harry with you and discuss the presentations with him later. He has a great mind, you love sharing your thoughts with him, get deep whenever something really catches your attention. It’s so easy to talk to him and you actually feel like he values your thoughts, unlike some men you had to deal with in the past.

During the ride back home you keep thinking about whether you should take it any further or not. You surely don’t want him to be just a one night stand anymore, it’s still very fresh but you actually feel like you’ve started falling for him and you wonder where he is standing in the situation right now. Today has changed a lot so when he parks in front of your building, you decide to just risk it again, like you did it so many times with him.

“Would you want to come up for a little? I could show you that article I talked about today,” you say, trying to sound calm though you see the surprise in his eyes, he wasn’t expecting this invitation.

“I… would love to. You sure it’s not too late?”

“Positive,” you smirk at him unbuckling yourself.

He follows you up to your apartment. It’s definitely not as big as his home, but you take pride in it. It’s the perfect size for you and you’ve worked a lot on making it your home. Harry is looking around, inspecting the place as you walk into the small kitchen and grab two bottles of beer, offering one for him.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, following you to sit on the plush couch you adore so much. It feels like a cloud is swallowing you up. “This place suits you.”

“Thanks. You know, this is what I thought about yours too.”

“Yeah? I think mine is just a mess,” he chuckles, taking a sib from his beer.

“It’s a good mess. Liked it.”

There is some tension, but in a good way if you might say. As if you both were unsure about where it’s heading, walking on eggshells, not knowing where the boundaries are lying as of right now.

“You know, the semester is almost over,” you imply, giving him an innocent look.

“I’m very much aware of that, the pile of tests on my desk waiting to be graded reminds me every day of it,” he chuckles making you smile too.

“Mhm and it also means that very soon you won’t be my professor anymore.”

You scoot closer, your knees coming in contact with his thigh and he sucks on his breath, looking down at the spot where you two touch. You really hope he won’t turn you down, because you’ve already gotten your hopes up about making it work.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you nod confidently. He doesn’t move and you’re losing patience. So grabbing his beer from his hand you place his and yours as well to the small coffee table before shamelessly swinging a leg over him, sitting on his lap. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders and his hands immediately find their way to your waist, his thumb caressing the skin that shows from under your ridden up shirt. However you see hesitation in his eyes.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on in your head, talk to me,” you ask him softly, tilting your head to the side.

“I just… I know soon it’s gonna be alright for us to… you know. But I… I hope you know it’s not a game for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“That I’m all in, Y/N. I know it’s been a crazy few months, but I really like you. A lot. I love talking to you, I love it when you are talking so passionately about things that interest you. I love how open and hardworking you are. I think that you’re an amazing person and I don’t want this to just be some passing, quick thing. I’m serious about this. About you.”

You can’t hold your growing smile back as your hands move up to cup his cheeks. Leaning closer you peck his lips softly.

“Great. Because I’m serious too.”

Harry breathes out in relief and a second later he is kissing you hungrily, letting his desire take over after holding back for so long. You weren’t the only one having a hard time during lectures. He hated how he always found himself looking in your way, thinking about how beautiful you are, how amazing it felt to hold you in his arms and it ached his heart that he had to keep himself so far away from you. When you took the risk and texted him, he could cry in excitement and he knew right in that moment that he is fucked for you.

Though it started a little rocky, now that he has you in his arms again, he wouldn’t change a thing, because it brought him to this very moment and he is overwhelmed with joy. He is more than ready to show you how serious he is about you, not just with his words but his actions, so he is quick to leave the couch and navigate into your bedroom to relive that mind-blowing night the two of you shared back in late August.

“Congrats, Miss Y/L/N. We are looking forward to seeing you work your magic as the leader of the group.” The executive manager shakes your hand and you see your boss from the corner of your eye, looking at you proudly.

“Thank you. I won’t disappoint,” you smile back.

You say your goodbye to everyone else in the room before finally heading out with the widest smile on your face. You did it. You finally got the promotion.

You finished your masters just a month ago and this meeting was scheduled almost immediately. For a while you were afraid they wouldn’t wait until you finish your studies, but they proved that they wanted no one else but you, making you feel so valued.

Walking back to your office you do the rest of your work left for the day, finishing up every pending task so you can be free for the weekend. When five o’clock finally comes you pack up and head out. Pushing through the double doors you step out into the warm July afternoon, immediately spotting a mop of curls you know all too well. Harry is waiting for you leant against his car with a huge bouquet of flowers, smiling at you with pride as he watches you cross the parking lot.

“What’s this for?” you ask teasingly when he pushes himself away from the car and kisses you softly before saying anything.

“A little something to celebrate your promotion.”

“How do you know I got it?” you ask, trying your best to sound serious. He narrows his eyes at you in suspicion.

“I knew you’d get it, who else would get it? Did they not fucking give it to you?” he asks, working himself up at the thought that you weren’t the one to get promoted.

“Relax, I got it,” you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him a little longer this time.

“I was ready to fight whoever I needed to,” he mumbles against your lips, a smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“What a gentleman,” you giggle pecking his lips again.

“That I am. And not just because I would throw a fist for my love, but because I knew you’d get it so I went ahead and booked us a mini vacation for this weekend. So let’s head home, you have thirty minutes to pack before we leave,” he smirks down at you, clearly satisfied with himself.

Harry is always full of surprises. In the one and half year you’ve been officially together, he never failed to surprise you with the tiniest things, make you feel loved and appreciated no matter how long you’ve been dating.

“Where are we going?” you ask in excitement, eyebrows shooting up on your forehead.

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

Harry listened to every hint you’ve dropped how you’d love to spend some time away in some cabin in the woods, disconnecting from the world just for a little and he found the perfect place for that a few hours away. He knew you’d be the one to get promoted so he took the risk to book it weeks ahead, making sure you’ll have the perfect place for the celebration. You have a slight guess it’s gonna be like that because Harry is great at taking hints, but what you doesn’t know is that deep down his already packed suitcase, there’s a little velvety box with a ring inside it that he plans to put on your finger this weekend, hoping you’ll give him the answer he wants to hear.

And you will. Because you are head over heels in love with this man, have been for a while and you want to spend the rest of your life with him.

The two of you head home and your hand finds his over the shifting gear, lacing your fingers together with his. Glancing at you he kisses your knuckles, pressing a long kiss to your empty ring finger.

“I love you,” he tells you and the three little words never fail to make your heart flutter. While the lamp is still red you quickly lean over and steal a kiss from his soft, pink lips.

“I love you too, professor,” you tell him teasingly. He didn’t like it when you called him that back when he was still just your professor, but since the air has been clear, he grew a liking to it, especially because he can’t get enough of hearing you moan it in the bedroom.

You call him a lot of other pet names too. Baby, H, Har, Sweets, whatever comes to your mind while he likes calling you his baby, Angel, Princess or Love. And as the two of you head home he thinks about how he wants two new names to be added to the list. Husband and wife.

 -

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