#one day I’ll stop being too scared to just live my truth

[grayintogreen]

Having your two big fanfic series as your hyperfixations is an exercise in pain.

[mattyriddlesbitch]

I don’t see any rules for what you do and don’t write but I’m thinking ghostface/stalker Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott or Tom Riddle

Yesssss, I love Scream! Let me know if you guys want more of this with the other boys or more of Mattheo!

My Princess

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: Stalking, killing, Ghostface, mention of assault

Don't read if this stuff bothers you!

There’s been reportings of a murderer in your area. One who donned a mask. ‘Ghostface’ is what they started calling him.

It was scary, trying to live with a serial killer nearby, who could be anyone since no one saw their face.

The killings seemed random at first. No pattern, no specific target demographic, no connections to each other.

Then, unfortunately or fortunately for you, he killed your cheating ex. And your old bully. And that one teacher who seemed like he had it out for you.

It got scarier for you. Seeing so many people who had connections to you being killed.

Only, it got worse when, the day after the murders, little boxes appeared at your door with an item from the victims and flowers. Each time, you called the cops, but they would make a report and leave, saying they can’t really do anything else.

It was frustrating and terrifying. You invested in a doorbell camera, hoping to catch whoever it was leaving these on your doorstep. But they didn’t show up again. Not at your door, at least.

Next was a box on your bed in your room, this one just filled with flowers and jewelry. As soon as you saw it, you got chills and a gut-wrenching feeling knowing they were in your room.

You called the cops again, but since there was no footage or DNA left behind, all they could do was make another report.

They started leaving notes now. Telling you how pretty you are, how sweet you are, how much he adores you and is obsessed with you. Again, cops won’t do anything, no DNA or footage.

You set a camera up in your room to catch them. You caught them when you were at work, but they were in a Ghostface mask and waved at your camera. They left a note on your bed and left. That was all they did that you caught on camera. You stopped sleeping at your place, waiting for the lease to end in a few months. Your friends let you crash at their place until the notes and gifts started showing up there. You had to go back to your place since no one wanted to let you in theirs with fear they’d show up.

They promised to never hurt you, they were protecting you, they were keeping you safe from everyone who ever hurt you or plans to hurt you.

You heard about a co-worker that was killed one day at work, and the next day, you see papers of screenshots printed out from the co-worker talking about what he wanted to do to you, how he was planning on asking you out to a bar and assaulting you. That made you feel sick. But now you were starting to see this stalker was telling the truth. Maybe they were protecting you.

You still kept the cameras up and bought some weapons for your place, even a handgun.

“You don’t need all this protection, princess. I’ll always protect you.” That was on a note left on your bed, but they left all your weapons alone.

You finally had enough of the cops not doing anything, of no one helping you, of not feeling safe anymore. Whoever this was wasn’t hurting you, just being creepy. You wrote notes back to them, asking who they were and why they kept stalking you.

“Stalking? No, I’m protecting you.” They would write back. “I wouldn’t do anything to harm you. You’re precious to me. I love you.”

It really didn’t help the creepiness, but at least you were finally talking to them. You were hoping to gain their trust and meet them, hopefully kill them.

“You wanna meet me, princess? It’s tempting. But I wouldn’t want you to do something irrational.” They wrote back. “Do you trust me?”

You wanted to say ‘no’ but you couldn’t. Not if you wanted to meet them.

So you said ‘yes’ and the notes stopped. You thought you scared them away maybe. Maybe they thought it was too much to meet you.

Until a few days later, you had just gotten back from work. It was a Friday night and you sat at your counter in the kitchen, drinking wine, trying to calm your nerves from everything. You were always on edge nowadays and needed something to help with it. You were tipsy at this point, just eating and drinking as you let yourself relax.

Then you saw a figure emerge from the hallway to stand on the other side of the counter from you, wearing all black and the Ghostface mask.

You panicked and tried running, but your stalker was faster. They grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to them, grabbing your other wrist as well to keep you from running.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, princess.” A male voice said behind the mask. “You wanted to meet. I’m here.”

You were still panicking, but stopped fighting him. You stared at the mask. Fear took over your body again when you remembered he didn’t just stalk you, but also killed people and you kicked him and took off running again when he let go, running towards your room since that was closest. He ran after you, blocking the door before you could close it. 

“Please, I don’t want any of this. I-” You broke into sobs as you backed away.

“No, no , no, princess. I won’t hurt you. I promise. You’re the most important thing in my life.” He said, closing the door behind him as he spoke softly.

“Why do you do this?” You asked with a shaky voice.

“To protect you. No one will ever hurt you, baby.” He was walking closer and you backed up until you hit the wall.

“Who are you?” You asked, still crying from fear.

He took off his mask to reveal someone you worked with. The co-worker your dead co-worker was messaging about you with.

“Mattheo?” You said with a confused look.

“I just wanted to protect you. To keep you safe from all the evil in the world. You don’t deserve any of that.” He was still speaking softly as he stepped in front of you.

“You killed people.” You whispered.

“People who hurt you. I couldn’t let them live after hurting you.” He said, touching your arm softly and you flinched.

“They didn’t deserve that.”

“They did. You’re perfect. No one should ever hurt you or make you feel bad again.” He moved his other hand to your hair. “I’ve been dreaming about touching you for so long.” His voice was quiet. As much as you feared him, his touch was reverent, like he was savoring every touch of your skin.

“Why did you break into my house?” You asked quietly, meeting his eyes.

“You put the camera up. I wasn’t ready to be caught just yet.” He said with a small smile, trailing his hand up and down your arm, his other hand running through your hair gently.

“We work together. Why didn’t you just talk to me if you felt this way?”

“I was too nervous. You’re perfect. You’re so pretty and funny and sweet and I couldn’t stand the thought of you rejecting me.” His hand on your arm moved up to cup your cheek. “Would you reject me now?”

You shook your head. “No. I wouldn’t.” You said, but you were still terrified.

He smiled. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, hoping if you played along, you could get away at some point.

He leaned in and kissed you gently, timidly. He was nervous. You kissed back, trying to think of a way out of this. It was hard to think when he was kissing you so sweetly.

He broke the kiss and looked at your face. “Your lips are softer than I ever imagined.” He smiled again, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “You’re mine now, yeah?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

“My princess. All mine now.” He said before kissing you again.

Now that you were in his hands, he wasn’t letting you go.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @ireallyneed-somesleep @soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict

Let me know if you wanna be added!

[dilfl0v3rss]

Tattoo artist Connie and ony??? This is y/n first tattoo and they’re real nervous so con and ony gotta help them relax 🤭

might end up tattooing their name on that pus- nvm…

i love love love thisssss😩

first ink

cw: needles, smuttt

word count: 2.4k

never in your life did you plan on getting a tattoo. it was too scary and you absolutely hated needles. if your mom didn’t get it done when you were a baby, you doubt you would’ve even had your ears pierced. you were getting older though, and the sight of the pretty art of your friend’s bodies swayed your judgement. you became very infatuated with them, always running your fingers along them when they were with you.

“girl just go get one. tired of you caressing my stomach like i’m pregnant or sum” sasha sighed, rolling her eyes as you laughed. “sorryyyy. it’s just so pretty” your friend put her hand on top of yours, squeezing it as she looked deep into your eyes. “i love you so ima touch your hand as i say this. you need to stop being pussy and get some ink. you look like a child.” you rolled your eyes, yanking your hand from under hers as she laughed at you. that was your last straw. you told her that day that you will finally get a tattoo, making her jump for joy as she called up two of the best artists she knew.

as the two of you walked in the shop your eyes instantly met the light brown orbs of a tall man. “buenos tardes ladies. what can i do f’yo-…oh hey sash” the man came across the counter he was standing at, giving sasha a side hug before outreaching his hand towards you. “hola mami, my name’s connie. you must be y/n” he gave you a kind smile, his gold grills shining in the light before he gave you a light peck on your hand. “boy move she here for some ink, not a pregnancy scare” connie rolled his eyes, lifting his hands in surrender before walking deeper into the shop. thats when another man came out from the curtain in the back.

“wasgood sash” the man said as he walked towards his booth before sitting in the spacious chair. “this her?” he mumbled. sasha pushed you up towards them. you haven’t said a word since you got here. too in awe at the beauty of these too men. “don’t talk much do she?” connie chuckled as him and ony continued to look you over. sasha knew how you got when you met new people so she didn’t try to push you to speak. instead she wrapped her arm around you while she did the talking. “this my girl right here. she never got any shit done before other than the piercings in her ears and that was when she was a baby so i need y’all t’be real delicate with her ‘kay?”

ony and connie shared a look, eyes widening as they realized that sasha was telling the truth. there wasn’t a single thing on your body other than your small stud earrings in your ears. “yea we gotchu. come sit while i set up.” ony said, getting up from the chair to let you sit down. the sound of sasha’s phone ringing brought your attention to her. “what….girl call your mother….ughhh why i gotta do it?…whatever whatever bye” you gave her a confused look as she carried an annoyed look her her face. “i gotta get my cousin from summer school, her bad ass. i’ll be back right after i take her home ‘kay?” you gave her a wide eyed look, her cousin lived almost an hour and a half from where you were. your fear was clearly showing on your face. you couldn’t get a tattoo alone.

as if reading your mind sasha gave you a tight hug whispering in your ear. “girl i’ll be right backkkk. don’t be scared. jus breathe and focus on something else, you’ll be fine” with that she gave the two men behind you stern looks, pointing her acrylic finger at them as she spoke. “behave yourselves. it’s her first time” ony and connie both gave her quick nods before she went out the door. as ony set up his stuff you slowly sat down in the chair waiting for him. “so it’s your first time huh ma?” he said, noticing your nervousness as he looked up at your pretty face. “mhm”. your response made him chuckle as he got up from his seat next to you. “what you gettin and where you want it”

you showed him your desired tattoo, making his eyes widen as he looked at the photo. “you sure?” sasha told you that this was an easy spot so you listened to her, nodding your head quickly as a reply. ony gave you a small smile before turning towards connie, who was in one of the other chairs scrolling on his phone. “baby turn some music on. it’s quiet at hell in here”.

baby? you turned your head towards ony’s face, your quizzical look making him chuckle. “sasha ain’t tell you?” you shook your head. “of course she didn’t” before ony could speak again, the sound of psa by kay flock started to play. making ony and connie rap along to the lyrics as they continued on with what they were doing. “so what you getting mami? a butterfly?” connie asked, inked hand rubbing on his boyfriends durag covered head. “she getting a thigh tat, cute lil sun” connie nodded his head as he listened, looking at your legging covered thighs. “well y’know you gotta lose those right?” he said, pointing to the fabric. you had totally forgot, eyes widening as you internally sighed. today was not your day.

“i mean…we don’t mind, could close up the blinds and lock the doors so it can seem like we closed right now. since sasha won’t be back for awhile and ion want you just sitting here waiting f’her” you thought about his words. they seemed like nice, respectful guys. and if sasha trusts them then you knew they wouldn’t do you wrong. “okay” your soft voice made the both of their heads turn to you, making you shy away and put your gaze on your lap. “so she does speak” they both say.

~about an hour later~

“listen mama, if you don’t calm down i can’t get started. i can’t tattoo you while you shaking like this” ony said softly as he watched you twitch away from the needle for the fifth time. you had no problem taking your pants off and letting them put the stencil on you, but as soon as you heard the machine start you couldn’t get it together. “he’s right mami, y’gotta relax for us ‘kay. we not gon hurt you”

you were trying, you really were, but your body just wouldn’t relax. and you weren’t helping them either, ony was ready to pass out from the sight of your ass making your thong practically disappear. and connie was trying his hardest to make his hard on as least noticeable as possible at the sight of your teary eyes staring up at him. your pretty hands gripping his tightly as you tried your best to be calm.

“what we gotta do t’help you relax huh? you want a snack?” connie asked, smiling softly at you as you nodded your head eagerly. ony got up from his seat behind you, walking towards the back to grab you some fruit snacks. “sit up and eat em. ion want you choking or nun” he said as he passed you the packet and walked back behind the curtains. you sat up on your knees as you tried your best to open it, but your hands were too sweaty from how nervous you were. connie saw you struggling so he helped, looking down at your pretty eyes as he slowly opened it. you didn’t even notice, too focused on his pretty light brown eyes as he slowly took a fruit snack from the packet.

on instinct you opened your mouth, not knowing what came over you as you slowly sucked on his finger after he put the small miniature orange in your mouth. “you want sum else t’help you relax mami?” you couldn’t help but nod your head yes. these men were fine, and you were desperate to relax. “pa c’mere! she said she need our help to relax” ony made his was to his boyfriends side, smirking down at you as he realized what he meant. “oh we can help you with that real good”

before you knew it you were laid back in the chair, this time with your back on the end of it as connie eagerly ate your pussy on one side, and ony fed you his long dick in your mouth on the other. “that’s right ma, keep suckin it jus like that. don’t you feel better? no more shakin and cryin” ony’s words went straight to your core, making your arousal increase as you began to leak onto connie’s face. “taste so good mama, you like when he talks t’you like that huh? talks to me like that too at home. y’wanna come home wit us baby?” you instantly replied with a “mhm”. the vibrations of your voice sending ony over the edge as he shot his thick ropes down your throat.

“shittt you suck me so well mama. you gon let connie make you feel good, gon let him fuck you?” as he spoke connie began lining himself up with your entrance, rubbing his inked hands all over your stomach as he waited for you to reply. “y-yes” you said in a small voice, turning the both of them on more as connie slowly sunk into you. the stinging stretch of his dick making you whine as you tightly gripped ony’s arm. “we know mama, s’okay we here” ony coo’d at you, helping you relax as he gave connie the signal to speed up. before then he was pounding you into the chair, long light brown dick pulling loud moans and cries from you as ony stood behind him, whispering dirty words in his ear as he’d occasionally kiss up and down his boyfriends neck. his eyes never left yours as he did this, controlling the tempo of connie’s thrusts without having to lift a finger.

“there you go pretty boy. makin her feel so good” connie’s eyes were closed as he focused on the words of the man behind him. “i wanna cum in her” he whined as ony gave you a small smirk. he knew the sight of them was driving you crazy so to pleasure you further he slowly gripped connie’s neck, turning his head towards his to give him a sloppy kiss. your pussy clenched at the sight, making connie whimper into ony’s mouth as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. “m’finna cum, you want papi t’cum in you mami?” his deep voice rang in your ears, pushing your release closer as you moaned out at loud “yes”

with that connie spilled his seed deep into you, his thrusts halting to a stop as he made sure to keep you full of him. you watched ony whisper something in his here, making connie slowly pull out of you before ony took his place. “gonna make me feel good too now, that okay baby?” you quickly nodded your head yes, but he wanted more. ony teased you, rubbing his tip all over your wet clit to make you whine. “let daddy hear that pretty voice. want y’to talk me through it like i did connie” connie helped you up as ony spoke, kissing your neck as his boyfriend waited patiently in between your legs. “listen t’him mami. or he won’t give you what you want” your brain was clouded with pure lust right now as you finally replied to the man in front of you. “want you t-to fuck me”

“that’s a good girl”

~a couple hours later~

“alright all done pretty girl” ony chirped as he began to wipe the last bit of ink off your freshly done tattoo. “she’s still asleep” connie chuckled out as he sat in the chair with your pantsless body on his chest. as soon as they finished fucking you, you fell asleep so they woke you up to ask you if you still wanted the tattoo and you said yes, and who were they to deny a pretty thing like you especially after you were so good for them.

as you stirred awake you noticed you were still in the chair, a warm blanket draped over your body. you went to get up, but were stopped by a little stinging pain in your leg. “she’s up pa” connie said as he watched you from one of the couches in the waiting area, a bag of chips in his hand as he watched his show. “heyy pretty girl, we ain’t wanna wake you so we just put the blanket on t'keep you from getting cold. want some water?” you eagerly nodded your head yes as you reached for the water bottle in ony’s hand. before you got to grab it he pulled it back towards him. “lemme hear that pretty voice baby” a shy smile planted onto your face as you looked up at him. “can i have some?” a smile spread to ony’s face as well, his big inked hand transferring the bottle into your much smaller one. “good girl”

as you drank the water, connie made his way towards the two of you, a small smirk on his lips as he looked down at you next to ony. “you not gon look at your new ink?” he said. you had honestly forgot, but excitement bloomed in your stomach as you slowly moved the blanket from your thigh. there sat the beautiful sun you asked for, prettily wrapped up along with something else you didn’t see in the picture. there sat an infinity symbol in the middle of the sun with two letters in the spaces. an o and a c.

“you said you wanted t’come home wit us right? if you gon be ours you gotta rep us.” connie said before him and ony pulled up their shirts, the same infinity symbol showing on their sides with each others initials and yours in the spaces. your mouth dropped to the floor at the sight of the pretty tattoos, stomach doing flips in excitement as you realized what you had gotten yourself into.

“you ours now mama”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Backburner 5

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss is easy going until he’s not. 

Characters: Sam Wilson, this reader is known as Dizzie.

Author’s Note:Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

You sit in the passenger seat, legs locked, spine rigid, head straight. Sam drives without a care, singing along the Motown tune buzzing from the speakers. You stare at the traffic in dread, wincing each time he reaches to shift gears. 

As you get past the urban core, a sudden realisation dawns on you like a sheet of ice cocooning your body. You blink and take in the unfamiliar street. This isn’t the way to your place. You’ve been too stunned to even offer your address, or maybe you just assumed Sam knew it. 

“Diz, you’re not usually this quiet,” he turns down the music then moves his hand to the back of your seat, steering with one hand. “Whatsa matter, baby?” 

“Sam... sir,” you cross your legs. He quickly reacts and slaps his hand onto your knee. “I don’t live down here.” 

“I know, baby, I do,” he snickers and pulls your leg back down. “You roll up that skirt for me and let me have a peek.” He shifts and kneads along your thigh, “it’s been a long day.” 

“Sam,” you whimper, “please, this isn’t... you’re my boss.” 

“That’s right, Dizzie, that means you do what I say,” he tickles along the bottom of your skirt. 

You squeak and catch his hand before it can go higher, “I’m scared.” 

He chortles again. “Why’s that? Don’t tell me a girl like you’s a virgin. I just can’t believe that. Not wearing what you were on Friday.” 

“Sir!” 

“You keep calling me sir and I’ll just have to pull over,” he threatens. “Mmm, you make all those little noise when you’re on a man?” 

“Huh?” You gulp. 

“You know, when you’re thinking, you squeak and all that. You gonna do that on my dick?” 

You flinch and shove his hand off your lap. You look around desperately as the car keeps moving. What do you do? 

“If you were gonna run, you woulda done it back at the office so let’s stop play, honey bun,” he swerves the wheel to drive up a long drive. 

You press yourself to your seat and peer up at the large modern facade. It’s a nice house. That’s such a stupid thing to thin about in that moment but it’s easier than reality. You well cling to that cracked shield of denial until it’s in splinters. 

He jabs the button to flip the engine and the car quiets. He taps the button on his seat belt and it repels over his shoulder. He gets out as you remain strapped in the passengers’ side. 

He rounds the hood as you stay where you are. He opens the door and stares down at you. You can’t look at him. That will make it real. You don’t understand how he can do this. 

“Sam,” you say to the windshield, “you’re a nice guy. A good boss... why?” 

“Diz, I’m getting real tired of talking,” he huffs as his fingers tap above you on the car roof. “I just want you to think about something. When I tell HR you slipped your panties into my bag, do you think they’ll give you warning or fire you?” 

You hug yourself and peel your eyes away from the scenery. You pout up at him, “It was an accident.” 

“Was it? And now you’ve followed me home. When they check your phone tracking, oh, baby, they would put two and two together, wouldn’t they?” 

“But I wouldn’t-- why would I?” 

“It’s not about the truth, Diz.” He bends down to eye level, gripping the door as he does. “You don’t get this far in business being honest. You just gotta make people believe in you. You believe me, don’t you Diz?” 

Your lip quivers and his dark eyes fall onto the tremble. He pokes his tongue out and hums. You seal your mouth and swallow. Tears prick hotly as the heat flows through your body. 

“I’ve always been nice to you, Diz, even when everyone said you were stupid, huh?” He reaches to caress your cheek. “Because I know you’re not stupid.” He smirks, “you’re smart enough to get your ass up and walk into that house. Right now. Aren’t you?” 

You stare at him as the timber in his voice sinks like iron. You’ve never heard him like this. He’s never looked at you like that. 

You reach for the buckle and press down. The belt recoils and you focus on your body. Your insides are jittering. You turn your legs out and grasp onto the door as you stand. He stays close, crowding you. He puts his hand on your hip and guides you, closing the door with a snap. 

He turns you to walk towards the house. Your legs are jelly. You trip and he catches you before you can fall. You squeal as he spins you and scoops you up in his arms. Your skirt flips up and the air grazes your ass. You wriggle in his hold as he doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I got you,” he purrs as his dark eyes blaze ahead. “You’re always taking care of me, let me take care of you.” He looks down as you try to pull your skirt down your thighs. He bites his lip and growls, “bet you taste sweet like those smoothies, huh?” 

[writingsfromhome]

If you Love Something II

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

——————————————

Age 36:

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

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

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

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

“I can come get you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’ll be yours soon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re cutting up what?”

“Nothing! Train’s here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Being 18 is reason enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why are you reading it?”

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

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

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

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

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

He tosses the book down lightly. “Damnit!”

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

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

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

“Full class?”

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

“They won’t be there next week.”

“Nope.”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shake my head and start setting up my laptop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um ‘scuse me. Professor?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

I retell this to Harry when I get home.

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

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

“Maybe this is the guy. The One.”

“You don’t believe in that do you?”

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

“So I’m The One?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you liking uni so far?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, didn’t see that coming.

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

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

“You have any siblings?”

“An older sister yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stiffens by the door before coming to get it.

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

“Bridget,” her voice cracks.

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

“I’ve never told anyone.”

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

“Yeah. Maybe she just looks like Taylor?”

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

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

“Harry! That’s her!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t assume,” the other chides.

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

“Oops!” They laugh.

“Anyway. This is Harry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Weird right?”

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here,” I say.

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

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

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

We sit in silence for a bit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He slides the ring on and it fits perfectly.

It was perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is that?”

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

“Is it…”

“I was waiting for you.”

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

“We should read it.” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you read it?” I ask.

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

“Y/n and Harry,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hope you call.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe she has an awful digital footprint.”

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We will.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ve fucked up so much!”

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

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

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

“I love her,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

“What do we do?” I ask

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The line goes dead and so does my heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m surprised to see an old student.

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

“Hi professor-“

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

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

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

“I had a question?”

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

“What’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sociology, I’m pre-law.”

Ambitious. “Why TA for my class?”

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

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

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

“I’m okay with that.”

“Why should I pick you?”

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

“Teaching?”

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

“What are your hobbies?”

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

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

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

“Yes,” I’d seen things online.

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

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

“Really?!”

I laugh. “Yes. Really.”

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

“Sure. Anywhere I can reach you.”

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

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

“Alright?” I raise my brow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sent from iphone.

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

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

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

Age 38:

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

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

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

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

“Mm,” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I cry into his shirt and he rocks me.

“I’m sorry,” I say into his shirt.

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

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

My wounds inside stay tender.

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

Harry and I finally talk about it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

“Is everything alright?”

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

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

“Sorry. I’m-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry-“

“Don’t be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m getting married that week!”

The light dims. Or maybe I imagine it.

“Oh! I thought you were married already?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

“Y/n it’s on your way home!”

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

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

“Agh and why can’t he do tomorrow?”

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

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

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

The idea hits me at once.

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

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

“Oh no. Is everything alright?”

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

“Okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, so hectic.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My jaw drops. “Harry.”

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

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

“Yes? I panicked and googled it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I also said plus one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s alright. Happy to help out.”

An awkward silence slithers in.

“So my partner invited you to our wedding.”

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

“I’m not,” I say weakly.

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

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

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

“What is it?” I ask.

“Nothing!”

“Why do you look sad what happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, but we were never ordinary.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bridget.

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

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

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

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

“Me too what?”

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s weird. Nevermind.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Liar!”

“I’m not! Why are you asking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so-“

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you get that?” Harry asks.

“Hm?”

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

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

“Hiya,” she says with an awkward wave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was finally home. My daughter.

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

She really did look like Taylor as a baby.

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

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

I turn to him, why wasn’t he here?

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

I let go of Bridget and move back to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I trail off and leave. I had to be sure he was okay.

He’s not in the bedroom, or the office. I try the door to the toilet and it opens, he’s sitting on the edge of the tub with his head in his hands.

“She leave?” He asks in a hoarse voice.

“Oh baby,” I crouch in front of him. “No. She’s still here but I just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m pathetic,” he buries his hands in his hair. “I’ve been waiting my whole adult life for this and all I do is freeze. Her first impression is of her dad just freezing and then running away.”

I try not to laugh at his dramatic retelling. “Har you know that’s not true. She’s known you before this. It was a shock-“

“You were fine.”

“You know I…always suspected. Especially after the wedding.”

He looks up at that, finally. “You never said.”

“Harry, I felt crazy. Saying it out loud would have forced me to check myself into the psych ward. We all react differently, it doesn’t matter though. Our baby girl is here. The day we talked about!”

He takes a deep breath, and then another one. I guide him to stand and he looks so limp and sad that I squeeze him in a hug. “She doesn’t care how you reacted. She just wants to know you.”

Harry sighs again, he splashes his face with water and we walk out. I was nervous for him.

We walk back into the living room and my heart sinks when Bridget isn’t there. But her things are?

A few steps further and she’s at the stovetop, stirring a pot.

“Oh sorry,” she steps back and nearly throws the spatula into the pot. “It was boiling a lot and-“

“Bridget,” Harry ignores most of what she’s saying and she freezes at the sound of her name. He’s a foot away from her now. I watch him raise a hand to her face and then drop it. His face is a cross between heartbreak and awe as they drink each other in. I wait in anticipation.

“Hi,” she finally says shyly. But it breaks the ice. Harry pulls her into a hug and she returns it tenfold from the looks of it. I can’t tell who’s crying, but I give them their moment as I turn the dials off on the stovetop.

It was just a regular Saturday, except it wasn’t. Our worlds exploded with our past and was putting itself back together again, all the old broken pieces were being mended back together with love. My chest drowns in it, I can barely breathe. In Harry’s arms, there’s no denying she’s ours.

***

“Thank you,” Bridget says as we tuck into dinner. Harry’s lunch prep had gone cold as we’d all sat down and talked about how Bridget found us (looking me up, finding out I was teaching a course she was interested in, forcing her friend Philippe to take it to see if I was who she thought I was), and going through her album. I found out more about her sister Louisa and her parents. It was weird seeing pictures of them, in my mind they were the people that took my baby as their own and for Bridget they were mum and dad.

We finally decide to do something about food when our stomachs rumble. Harry goes back to cooking, showing Bridget what he’s doing until she leaves to take a call. I recognize Philippe on the caller ID.

I take Bridget’s place but I’m more of an extra weight tied to Harry’s back as I hug hun from behind. We don’t even have words on what this all means to us. For now, just touching each other keeps us grounded, it keeps is in what was happening together.

Bridget comes back from the call when we’re nearly done.

“I just want to say I am sorry—and I know you said not to be,” Bridget says quickly before I can get a word in. “But I never meant to deceive the both of you. My plan was to take your class, leave the letter and then talk. I Googled you so much it felt like I knew you. Yet when we spoke in your office that day, you felt familiar but In a different way than the person I studied. I just liked you so much, and I wanted you to like me. I was scared maybe you wouldn’t. So I just screwed the plan and messed up everything.”

“Hey,” Harry hands her a tissue and she takes it. Under the table he squeezes my hand. “It’s in the past.”

“I know. Still made me feel awful. And I couldn’t tell you but I also couldn’t stay away. I applied for TA and, it felt like having a friend and a sister and a mentor all in one. And I…I screwed up. I took it too far. And then you invited me to your wedding—I got to attend my parents’ wedding! It was so absurd. I couldn’t stop crying.”

Sounded like me. But I don’t say anything. We listen to her attentively.

“I only told my sister. I wanted to tell you two before I told my parents.”

I think about my parents. Harry’s. I didn’t want to overwhelm her but I couldn’t wait to introduce her to everyone that already loved her.

“I just hope…no, I know I hurt you two a lot. I didn’t mean to. I am really sorry about it all.”

“Bridget,” Harry’s hand comes down on hers. “What’s done is over. There are so many things we wish we did differently but ultimately it’s all done. All that matters is you’re here, now. You’re our daughter we never got to meet and you’re finally here.”

Harry’s voice cracks on the last word and he sits back and laughs away the tears. “Sorry. I’m a mess today aren’t I? Your first impression of me is a crying mess.”

“That’s not my first impression,” Bridget laughs but her eyes also fill with tears. “That night at the pub. When I saw you two together I nearly bloody fainted! When I looked you up y/n, there’d been an old wedding registry with another bloke. But then seeing you two together?! I just couldn’t believe it—I thought I dreamed it. And then I nearly cried because my bio parents were somehow together?? And the way you just stared into my soul it felt like you knew who I was.”

I laugh, remembering but also knowing exactly what look Bridget was talking about. “He does have a piercing look doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. It could gut someone!”

“That makes it sound awful!” Harry laughs. “Don’t say that.”

“It nearly gutted me! I really thought oh shite—“ Bridget freezes and looks between us like we were gonna scold her for swearing and I nearly leap across the table to hug her again then. “I uhm, I thought you knew who I was.”

“We thought it then,” I let my eyes roam over her. I realize I’d always been a mother, despite not having my daughter. Holding her earlier had awoken an instinct in me and now every time I look at her I feel a rush of love and something fierce. I wonder if Harry felt it too. “But we thought we were mental!”

Her phone chimes as we laugh. She flips it around and then tucks it into her purse.

“You need to take that?” Harry asks.

“No it’s just Philippe. He was at the wedding? I was just talking to him, I hadn’t texted him in a while he wanted to know how it went.”

“Philippe,” I say with a knowing smile. Bridget blushes and Harry asks what he’s missing out on so I fill him in.

“He sounds like a good lad,” Harry comments.

“A good lad?” I repeat. “Are you hearing him?”

Bridget laughs behind her hand and I can’t stop staring at her. I have to force myself to go back to eating.

“He is. I might have told him about how I felt?”

“Wow,” I put my fork down. “You’re confessing an awful lot lately.”

She blushes even deeper. And suddenly I’m grateful of the weird and layered way she’d come into our lives. Despite hiding the truth, it had allowed us to get to know each other as people first. Without any baggage or give me any inclination to fit who I thought she should be onto who was in front of me.

I got to know her for the young woman she was first, so did Harry in a way. And I would be forever grateful for that despite all the pain in between.

“Sorry,” I get up. The affection was overflowing from my cup. “I’m going to give you another hug because I just can’t believe all this.”

“Ohh,” Bridget stands to meet me and we wrap our arms around each other. Here was a girl I already knew, here was my daughter waiting to be known.

“God, she really is our daughter.” Harry quips from his side of the table. He explains when Bridget looks over at him, “y/n is known to be a big touchy person, I’m kinda like that too.”

“Oh my god,” she smiles at us. “I’m like that too! My sister hates hugs. My dad’s 2 pats on the back man, 3 if he’s feeling a lot. I always wondered if…”

She trails off. It seems to hit all of us all over again every so often. For me it’s when she talks about her mum and dad and it’s not Harry and I. The reminder that she went 19 years becoming her own person that we now were catching up on.

For her, it seems it was realizing all the parts of us that were in her.

“You got Harry’s hair, and eyes.” I comment.

“I did! I realized that as soon as I saw a photo online. But I do look a bit like you.”

“You do! I should show you some younger pictures of us and our families. You’ll see more similarities.”

“Wow. So you have a younger sister. How about you Harry?”

“Older sister. Seems we all have sisters.”

Bridget and I make eye contact, remembering a conversation we had what feels like ages ago about having sisters.

We continue our dinner, swapping stories and filling her in on anything she wants to know. She leaves after, claiming to have to get back home, she had an exam on Monday to study for.

When she leaves Harry and I can’t stop talking about her. Or gushing would be more accurate.

“Did you see the way she laughs?” I’d tell him. “Pure you!”

“The way she tucks her hair back,” he would retaliate. “Just like you. You did that especially back in secondary.”

We talk until we’re exhausted, crawling into bed just staring in wonder. There were still so many details to figure out, so many things to cover, it could drown a person thinking of it all.

But like an anchor in the sea, Harry and I fall asleep with hand clasped together. We keep each other buoyed amidst it all.

It was going to take time for this all to sink in but all I’ve ever had was time, and questions. I think I was finally getting time and answers.

Age 39:

Harry’s pov: Having our daughter in our lives is simple and complicated at the same time. At first there were a lot of things to untangle but as time went on, the knots loosened until our lives became their own knots, tangled into each other.

Meeting her parents, the people I met once many years ago, was likely the strangest part. They already felt so familiar as soon as they greeted us in a warm embrace, as if we were there own children. I guess the last time they saw us we were.

“Oh look at you,” Bridget’s mum had squeezed us tight. Her dad had pat us three times and we took it to mean as much as a hug.

In my mind they were always the age they had been then. They were probably around the age we are now. Seeing them sport greys and fine lines, it was like stepping into a time portal.

Lou, Bridget’s sister, eyes us for the first little while before warming up and sharing all kinds of stories—especially the embarrassing kind with us.

When Bridget meets Y/n’s family, I can tell they’re loud and overwhelming at first but we’re all surprised when Taylor embraces Bridget and takes to her immediately.

She brings out old pictures they had of Y/N and I, but every time she says, “your mum and dad…” when she talks about us through the pictures, I notice y/n protesting less and less.

It makes me feel funny, I keep thinking I was going to wake up and find out it had all been a dream.

“This feels very full circle to me,” y/n’s mum says. She’s watching Taylor talk about her baby bump—she was 3 months along. “I saw Bridget as a wee baby when they handed her over to her parents. I remember running late to hospital and making it to the room just in time to see it. I blinked and now she’s in my living room!”

“Sometimes I feel the same way,” I confess.

My family is slightly quietier but they all fuss over our daughter. They ask a million questions and when it’s all over we take Bridget for ice cream. It’s a pseudo-recreation of a life we never had.

Bridget eases into it too. At first she had bouts of disappearing on us. No more than a couple days. But we give her space, understanding it was overwhelming.

Every time I see her, I see her mum—y/n. I was never there when y/n gave birth. We had to drive up from London when we got the news and by the time I got there the dust had settled.

I never even had the potential of seeing her. I’d always been more sympathetic of y/n; her loss had been physical, mine was slightly more abstract.

Even though I’d spent every year since regretting that I wasn’t there to at least glimpse her, I’m glad now I hadn’t been there to see her. If I had to live the last 18 years with this feeling in my chest I don’t think I could have lasted that long. I don’t know how y/n did it. It’s a concoction of deep unconditional love, and tenderness, and recognition, wrapped in a shell of protectiveness. It took me a while to sort through it all but I had a conversation with my parents one night at dinner Y/n and I had visited. And they’d laughed because they had told me that was simply what being a parent was.

“Maybe she regrets it,” I had said the second time she ghosted us. Really it had just been over a day where she hadn’t gotten back to us. But I couldn’t help the overthinking, being tuned into any potential of loss with our daughter.

Somehow, y/n was the cool headed between us two in these moments. Maybe it was being a mum, maybe it was knowing Bridget beforehand, but she was very in sync with her.

“She needs space. The last thing we want her to be is overwhelmed too. Now don’t overwhelm yourself love, at least she’s in our lives.” She’d say.

It takes us the start of the summer and all those meets later for Bridget to finally feel at ease.

We invite her on a road trip, we were renting a place in the Cotswold for a few days and told her to bring Philippe. When she doesn’t even hesitate to say yes Y/n tells me we’d done it: she was finally more comfortable than overwhelmed.

“Y/N made me a better man,” I say after a couple drinks. We’re all sat around a fire outside the house. Despite it being a warm day of hiking the night had cooled significantly and we’d decided that boozy hot cocoas was the way to go. “I’ve lost my ways a lot of times as an adult. But she’s always been my north star. Even when we got back together she led me to being sober and getting my shite together.”

“Oh…” Philippe looks down at his drink. “Are you…”

“No,” I laugh, Philippe was the most-conscientious teen I’d ever met. “I got sober to get my life in order. But…it’s in order now. I haven’t done anything crazy for over a year now.”

A little before our wedding I decided I wanted to end my sobriety. It had been a thought for months, and I had waited before giving in. But I really felt more in control of my life. I faced my life decisions head on, I confronted my past with y/n’s help, and I didn’t think I’d lose control again. It had been a shaky first week but I was right. It was a proud moment for me.

“You two really have something special,” Bridget comments.

“They do,” Philippe adds. “I can’t believe you got your happy ending after so many years!”

“Yeah,” y/n says as I lay my hand on her thigh, palm up. “Y’know what they say about loving someone and letting them go.”

“I guess you did that with me,” Bridget says so quietly we almost don’t hear her. But out here in the countryside we do.

“We didn’t want to,” I remind her.

“No I know.” She smiles, it’s a bit sad. Philippe tugs her closer. I could see how much he cared for her in that small gesture. “I’m not saying it like that. I hear your story and I just imagine how different my life would have been if I was raised by my, by you two. I wouldn’t have this life. And I really like this life.”

She looks at Philippe and I feel y/n squeeze my hand. She often said they reminded her of us when we were younger; the kind of love you’d do anything for.

“But you two loved me enough to let me go. To let each other go. It’s fucking sad but it’s beautiful. Life’s weird.”

“Here here,” Y/N raises her nearly empty cup of hot cocoa. “Life’s weird, sad, beautiful, but lately my life’s been full of so much love. I wish I could sell all the excess, I think I could solve a lot of world problems with it.”

“Wow,” I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “That’s one hell of a speech.”

“I have a speech,” Philippe stands, a little tipsy, and clears his throat. Bridget rolls her eyes but they shine for him. “Bridget you’re the love of my life. Since we were 13. But Harry and Y/N, I think I love you too. Ever since we were 15, I’ve watched Bridge struggle for answers about her past. And you two have given her all the answers, welcomed her—and me actually, into your lovely life. I’ve watched her become old Bridge but even more confident. I’m falling harder for her these days. And I can’t thank you guys enough.”

“Aw Philippe come here,” y/n lets of my hand to walk around and give him a hug. How quickly strangers became family.

Bridget grumbles about being left out and joins the hug. Soon I join in too. I want to create a mold of this moment, I think as I squeeze them against me, I’d make it out of plaster and let it dry. Any time we wanted, we could always find our way back to this moment here.

Age 40:

Y/N and I watch our daughter cross the stage. Beside us are our parents and in front of us sits Bridget’s parents and her sister. She has a whole army cheering for her. This was the first milestone event we could all really show up for, and show up we did.

“I can’t believe this,” I was so proud of her. I know the kudos went to her parents, and herself, but I beam with pride. Honestly Bridget could spin in a circle in front of me and I would be a proud dad.

“We need to get photos,” mum leans over and says so seriously, as if we hadn’t planned on getting a million already.

We have a framed picture in our hall, Y/N and I on our wedding day, our daughter in between us. Her graduation photo is definitely making it. She makes fun of this wall, calls it the Styles hall of fame, and I never mention it but she always lingers a few second longer in front of the photo of the three of us.

I do too.

“It makes me so sad you won’t be so close to me anymore,” my mum tells Bridget later. We’re all piled in our flat, drinks and celebratory cake in everyone’s hands.

It reminds me of mine and y/n’s 40th birthday, we had gathered our family and friends here and it was some of their first times meeting our daughter. Today is more intimate, and focused on Bridget.

“I know it makes me sad too, but I’ll be here often, visiting Philippe.”

“Only visiting Philippe?” I raise a brow.

“Is there someone else I’m supposed to be visiting?” She mirrors my raised brow.

As Bridget’s gotten more comfortable, me and her could banter for hours if you let us, it’s one of those things that brought us closer together—having the same sense of humour. It’s allowed us to have just as deep heart-to-hearts, a handy joke always close to the surface.

Y/N always says seeing me like that, thoughtful and silly, reminds her of the boy she fell for. I can’t deny that I’ve been feeling closer to my 20 year old self than my 40 year old self lately.

“She’s too cheeky,” Bridget’s mum says. “But I have to say I’ll be glad to have her back.”

Lou, Bridget’s sister, was moving to Wales. Apparently she wanted to know more about her background, and take a trip with her bio mum to visit her bio dad.

I think Bridget was moving back to Coventry to keep her parents’ loneliness away; she said she would commute to Birmingham for school. Even though she got accepted into law schools in London, going to a uni close to her parents just showed me how close she was to her parents. It was a bittersweet feeling.

“I’ll have somebody to watch cricket with again,” her dad says.

“Ohh,” Bridget throws her sister a side-eye. “I love cricket…”

We all laugh at her complete lack of concealing her true feelings.

Later that night, it’s just Bridget’s parents and us. The kids are on the balcony talking.

“I know we’ve said it before,” I say after a long silence. We’d just been watching the kids talk and laugh outside. “But I want to say thank you again.”

Bridget’s dad shakes his head. “It was the greatest pleasure of our lives getting to raise those two girls.”

He looks over at his wife and they smile at one another. Seeing them interact, I’m grateful that somehow fate had led us to them. While Y/N and I were figuring life out, while I fucked up a lot of things, she was raised on a steady and stable foundation.

“She’s incredible,” I murmur. “She’s gonna be a lawyer. She’s going to change the world.”

“She sure will,” her mum says. “We should be thanking you two. For giving us Bridget. I know it wasn’t easy, you told me you thought about her nearly every day. But we can’t imagine our lives without her.”

We sit in a comfortable silence, looking out at the kids until they notice and start to ask questions through the glass.

“She’s happier,” her mum says smiling at Bridget and Lou exaggerating their words through the glass. “She stopped being like this before she left for uni. We thought we lost her but…I think everything worked out for the best.”

Y/N glances at me. Her eyes crinkle when she finds me looking at her first, her eyes steady me as she says what I was thinking, “I think so too.”

Age 45

Your pov: “When did she say she would be here?”

“6?” Harry says for the tenth time.

“It’s 6:20 do you think something happened? She hasn’t texted has she?”

“My love,” Harry puts down the cutlery he was arranging on the table and holds my face in his hands. “They’re driving from Coventry, they probably hit some traffic.”

“Maybe I should call her?”

Harry sighs and squishes my face.

“Don’t! You’ll make more wrinkles.” I warn.

“I love your wrinkles,” Harry kisses my forehead right where the pesky wrinkles had been growing deeper over the last few years despite the additions to my night routine.

Harry always said our wrinkles were just the stories of our lives showing through. I told him to get himself undereye cream.

“You don’t think I’m aging handsomely?” He strokes the moustache he started growing last year. At this age, even I couldn’t deny it made him even more attractive.

“Well it’s no good if you’re ageing handsomely and I age like a troll.”

“I will love you if you age into a troll.”

“But will you love me if I turn into a worm?”

“Do you even have to ask? I’d buy you the best soil and keep you in a beautiful pot.”

“You wouldn’t take me fishing?” I ask. He sighs. Last year while we were taking a trip up north for Lou’s wedding, we’d gotten into a fight and when I asked him the question while he was still stewing he said he’d take me fishing. It had, ironically, broken the iciness of his anger and we’d laughed about it so hard he’d nearly had to pull over.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” he wraps me into his chest nearly suffocating me.

I’d spent half my life with a lot of difficulties, but life now felt easy compared to it. I had the privilege of getting older with the man I adored, got to watch my daughter flourish as an adult and a lawyer, watch her get married to the love of her life, and all the while live comfortably in the heart of this city I called home.

When Bruno starts barking though, I gasp and push myself off of Harry, “that’s them!”

Bruno continues to bark as I rush to the door. We’d got him a couple years ago as a pup and I can’t believe it had taken us that long to get a dog. He filled our lives with laughter and long walks. We loved him.

“Down.” I say to him. I open the door and hold my hands out while Bruno runs in circles beside me.

“Ahhh sorry we’re late!” Bridget steps into my hug and I tug Philippe’s hood so he can join. Bruno goes for Philippe when they walk in, he’d gotten obsessed with him after Philippe took care of him while Harry and I took an anniversary trip last year.

“Where are my hellos!?” Bridget says to Bruno and he barks, standing on his back legs to paw at her leg.

I hadn’t seen the two of them since March, that was 6 months ago. It had been their wedding, and they’d gone on a month long honeymoon after that, after which Harry and I had taken time off to road trip around Europe with Bruno, and then time had just zipped by.

After a hearty dinner, Harry and I carry out the birthday cake we’d been hiding.

“You didn’t have to do this!” Bridget fans her face but we treat it like we do any special occasion, plus making up for all the ones we’d missed. We get photos and exchange presents, she cries reading the cards and the whole time she says she had a present for us.

It’s a small bag, Harry and I guess that it was something for Bruno but when we take out a box it doesn’t sound like much when we shake it.

“Is this a prank gift? There’s nothing in it?” Harry asks.

“Open it!” He was making me antsy.

“You open it,” he hands me the box. Bridget and Philippe stare intently at my hands.

I undo the bow and slowly open the box. There’s a small square of tissue paper, and then a piece of paper. I remove both but something catches my eye.

I flip the paper over and stop breathing.

“Is that-“ Harry stops talking too. We stare at the piece of paper in our hands. It looks so much like one I had held 28 years ago. But it’s not.

“Bridge,” I look up at the couple. The parents-to-be.

“We’re having a baby,” Bridget says. Philippe and her are gripping hands and I throw everything off of me to launch myself at her.

“A baby!” I hear Harry say and joining us. “You’re having a baby! Y/n!”

“I never thought we’d be grandparents,” I look up at Harry.

“Those wrinkles were coming in for a reason,” he teases.

We never did have any other kids. Quite frankly, neither of us wanted any. When we first got together we were just starting to get comfortable with the reminder that we had a daughter out there and we could talk about her freely with each other. It felt like having a third person in our little family.

After Harry proposed, while we planned our wedding, we talked about it but we never thought it felt right. We both had first marriages where a lack of conceiving had just put a strain on the relationship we didn’t think we needed. We’d also felt like it was betraying something, before we met our first child.

When Bridget did reach out, it became about catching up on lost time. And then with her in our lives we knew what we suspected all along. We had each other, and that was enough. Bridge was our bonus. And getting to be aunt and uncle to our nieces and nephews it was enough. It was a full enough life.

We never even dreamed in our 20s we’d get to be parents and now we would get to be grandparents! I never realized until this moment that I wanted this. Really wanted it.

“Do you know the gender?” Harry asks.

“No,” Philippe answers. “We were thinking of doing one of those reveal parties? But not for a couple months.”

“Wow,” my hands drift down to Bridget’s belly and I remember I had something. I leap away from the group and find the box in my closet, it’s painted pink with random collages from old magazines. It hosts old diaries, photos, a hospital bracelet, and an ultrasound.

“This was you once,” I show her the picture when I get back. “I carried you like that once upon a time.”

She takes it with teary eyes, holding it close to her face to make out the shape of her. She hands it to Philippe and grabs my hands.

“I’ve thought about it before, but when I got pregnant I couldn’t wait to tell you-“

“She kept telling me I had to make a trip out to London just so she could give you the news.” Philippe interrupts, eyes scanning the ultrasound still.

“No really,” Bridget laughs. “I did. It’s like I got this new perspective.”

She puts my hands on her belly and covers mine with hers. I feel everything at once then, all the heartbreak I ever went through to get here.

“I can’t imagine giving this baby up. And it’s barely 3 months. What you were willing to do to give me a better life-“

She breaks off and Philippe squeezes her shoulder. I watch my daughter try to gain control of her emotions. I remember when I was pregnant with her, anything would set me off.

“It must not have been easy. After carrying me like this for 9 whole months. Thank you-“ she looks up to where Harry’s standing. I barely register his hand on my shoulder. “Thank you as my mum and dad, for making the hardest decision I can imagine ever making, so I could have something you knew you couldn’t provide.”

I reel my tears in, save them for later that night in bed while Harry holds me tight against him.

Right now I kiss my daughter and tell her what a good mother she will make. I tell her and Philippe how proud I was of them, how excited, how wonderful this was.

Age 46

The day we meet our granddaughter is seared into my brain. We get the call at 8:35pm, Harry and I were staying in a B&B in Coventry despite Bridget’s mum insisting we stay with her. We’d been here all weekend, booked it all week, not wanting to miss Bridget’s delivery date.

“Y/N she’s here,” her mum whispers into the phone. Her voice is filled with joy and giddiness. “She’s here.”

“We’re coming,” I say. Harry’s already at the door and we rush out into the night to see our granddaughter.

She has the perfect little face, and when she finally wakes up I gasp when I see Harry’s eyes looking back at me. I turn to him, to see if he noticed, but he’s teary-eyed and gazing at the baby in awe. I soak it in for a second, imagining this exact look if we’d kept our baby so many years ago.

Bridget’s parents had given us the room, to give us a moment alone, and I can’t be more grateful. Bridget encourages us to hold her and as her soft body is pressed into my body I let out a sob and hand her over to Harry. I excuse myself and step outside the room.

Lou’s kids sit on the floor outside, playing with whatever toys are spilling out of a miniature backpack. I focus on the flashy colours, trying to calm down, counting the number of toys falling out.

My life was a 180 from 10 years ago. This moment would go down in our history books as one of the best days of our lives.

But I can’t deny the bittersweet. The experience threatens to push me into the bitter past of not even getting to hold Baby Bridget. But with it comes an undeniable sweetness of getting to experience this now.

I take a deep breath and walk back in. Harry and Bridget stop mid-sentence and turn to me. Bridget’s face is streaked with tears, Harry’s looks concerned but I smile. He sits with the pink bundle to his chest and I ache.

“Don’t look so obvious you were talking about me,” I try a joke.

“Are you alright?” Bridget asks.

“May I hold her?” I ask in return.

I sit on the edge of the bed and she’s placed in my arms; she’s perfect. Just as perfect as Bridget must have been.

“She’s got Philippe’s hair,” I gently stroke the wispy blonde strands.

“She’s got my eyes, her grandpa’s eyes.”

I look at Harry. And he catches the stricken look on my face when Bridget tips forward and whispers to her baby.

“Look baby, this is your mumma’s mum, and your mumma’s dad. You’ve got his beautiful eyes. Say hi to grandma!”

My throat tightens. “Bridge.”

She leans away, her eyes dart between us. “I know I call you Y/N and Harry. It made it easier at first but…you are my mum and dad. Even though I have another pair. You are my mum and dad. And I want her to know you like that.”

“Oh love,” Harry leans down and kisses the top of our daughter’s head. She keeps her green eyes trained on me, grasping my hand that’s wrapped under her baby’s.

I mouth a thank you, my voice couldn’t pass through the block in my throat. She squeezes my hand and it sets the baby off. Remembering when my nephews were this young, I just hand her back to Bridget knowing she only wanted her mum.

Harry and I stay in the waiting room. We couldn’t go home, even though we had spent our allotted time we had inside the room, we stay there.

We watch Lou’s kids as Bridget’s family gathers in her room. We stay as they fall asleep, draped over us. I remember when Taylor’s kids were this small, they would fall asleep anywhere.

We talk in whispers, I don’t remember what about exactly. Mostly how excited we were. How there was so much to look forward to. How different our lives looked a decade ago.

“One day we’ll tell our grandkids,” I remember Harry saying. “We’ll tell them all about us, how we met, how our love burned so bright it shone in the sky. We lost each other but our love was always there to guide us back home.”

“We’ll see them grow up, all the memories we missed.”

“We’ll change diapers.”

“We’ll change diapers,” I giggle, half-delirious by the lack of sleep. It was probably 2am and I was tired.

When I gaze up at Harry I remember him holding our granddaughter. I replace her with Bridget. For a minute I allow myself to imagine how that would have been.

“I think you would have made an amazing mum if we did things differently,” Harry whispers into my hair.

“You too.” I whisper back.

“An amazing mum? You think?” The edge of his lips tug upwards.

“Harry,” I warn. We had kids sleeping on us we were trying not to wake.

“I love you.” He says in response. “To the stars and back.”

On our drive home I can’t stop looking at him. I always wondered how it would be like to grow old with someone; when I was younger and watch my own parents celebrate anniversaries. And then when I was older and my first marriage was so rocky.

But thinking about it now is like a simple mathematical equation. You take two lives, two individuals, and you bracket them in love. You add an exponent—the decision to continue choosing each other. And you get a lifelong commitment. No matter the situation, no matter the challenges or the changes, you choose to choose each other.

His side profile lights up by an oncoming car. For a second he’s the same boy I feel in love with, a few more gray hairs, a few more wrinkles, and a moustache. But he’d always be the boy I followed out to the roof, who held my hand in our high school hallway, the one who turned an I into a we when I got pregnant, I see the man I had coffee with after a run-in at the Whole Foods, I see the broken heart from a harsh life sitting on the steps of a church, I see a bookworm, I see a father, a husband, and now a grandfather. I see the one person who knows me like the back of his hand. The one I am home with always.

“What is it?” Harry asks as we pull into our b&b. “Have you been asleep this whole ride or have you been staring at me?”

“Staring at you?” I ask. “You think I was staring at you the whole ride?”

“Well you were really silent. And facing me

“I was thinking.”

“About me?”

“Why are you so desparate!? Do I not show you enough love regularly?”

“I could always use more,” Harry looks half asleep as we reach our door.

“The people are right: you give someone a hand and watch as they take the whole arm,” I tease.

“When you gave me your hand, I made you a wife.” Harry retorts.

“Ooh,” I poke him. “I have to say that’s a good comeback for being half-asleep.”

Harry grins back. “You keep me sharp.”

“And you keep me happy. Now open the door so I can stop freezing out here!”

We walk into the warmth of our b&b.

For so much of our lives, our past decisions haunted us. We let so much go. Now life was repaying us, returning it all back, with interest.

***

In a small b&b in the middle of a town called Coventry, two lovers crawl into bed. They’d just become grandparents and they carry an exhausted buzz about them as they try to fall asleep. They’re both thinking of the other, of their daughter, of the tiny bundle they held in their arms today.

Some 20 minutes away their daughter lays in a hospital bed, an exhausted buzz putting her to sleep. She dreams of her mother who gave her up, how she had found her parents in the end, and dreams about the kind of mother she’ll be.

A few doors down lay her newborn daughter, she doesn’t dream of much, not yet, but she’s in for a lifetime of love.

Most of life is what we made it. Y/N and Harry loved deeply enough to make it.

———————————————

TAGLIST: @quinnwritezz @unknownnbihh @dilfhrrys @umadirectioner @hermionelove @anonymous-91 @meganxfddf

[readingsquotes]

"I’ll never be able to forget my own experience pushing my college to divest......I’ll never forget the look I got from one administrator as I entered their building. We had been camped outside for two weeks at that point, and even though the woman who saw me had no idea who I was, she knew exactly who I was. She knew my presence, our presence, meant disruption. And few things are more sacred to the neoliberal institution than avoiding disruption, even when the status quo is harmful investment in fossil fuel corporations, or genocide. And so my presence scared this administrator, and the cops were there within minutes. The feeling of being a student and having the university resort to violence rather than speak with you is immensely hard to forget.

But so too are the broader lessons I learned in student organizing. The feelings are indelible, and yet the bigger picture, the structural knowledge you receive when you go up against a large and powerful institution, stuck with me too. .... I had learned that universities didn’t quite work the way I had imagined. Growing up they had seemed to me, from a distance, to be centers of knowledge and places where life looks a little more like it’s supposed to; people pursue learning and community and aren’t as constrained by work and stress. And there’s a significant kernel of truth to that, but behind the facade is a power structure that cares infinitely more about investments and real estate than the student body. That truth has become more and more real over time, and has been violently laid bare by the boards and administrations themselves in recent weeks. ...

The impact of protest right now matters immensely. It’s impossible to quantify how important it would be if the movement for a Free Palestine in the West built enough power to force our countries to stop funding ethnic cleansing, to stop arming genocide, to stop supporting apartheid. The lives that have been lost are irreplaceable, and the lives that could be saved are invaluable. And, at the same time, we’re seeing millions of people, young and old and everything in between, change in profound ways. In that fact lies the reality that Gaza and Palestinians and this movement we’re seeing all around us are altering the future just as they work to alter the present.

One of the many driving forces changing how people across the globe think, not only about Zionism but about imperialism and society at large, is the simple fact that we cannot unsee what we have seen. ...Decades of propaganda began to fracture in recent years, and shattered in recent months. But it’s more than that – for millions of people across the world there’s also no unseeing U.S. complicity. There’s no unseeing how Israel and the U.S. are virtually alone at the UN, on the world stage, working to protect a genocidal state and enable a genocide again and again. Even as Israel kills yet another UN worker, bringing the total to 190 slain employees of the United Nations, the enabling and participation in Israel’s genocide continues. 

People cannot simply forget these actions, these choices that the U.S. and Israel make day after day. I say that as a hope more than as a fact. ...And while students are not facing repression that can be compared to what the Black Panthers and others have faced, they are repeatedly facing mass violence from the state as well as vigilantes. They have also seen how little their schools care about them, how little their government cares about them, and how deeply invested our entire system is in war and imperialism.

..Students who have been attacked, and people everywhere who have seen horrors in Gaza beyond our comprehension, cannot simply forget. We’ve seen how violence abroad is connected to fascism at home. We’ve seen how Israel’s genocide in Gaza is connected to the war machine here in the United States. We’ve seen how it all comes together in a society structured to deprive the many so the few can hoard wealth and resources. Whatever comes next, there’s no turning back. We will struggle towards a better system, both because we want to see it come into existence and because we don’t have the option to return to a healthy status quo. We can’t turn back to the society we might be nostalgic for. That world doesn’t exist anymore; a new one must be built."

[thrashkink-coven]

One of the best things about finally having freedom as an autist is the freedom to do things in ways that would be considered incorrect, or doing things that I would have been scolded for as a child.

I’m allowed to just throw all my clean laundry into a basket and not fold and put it away. Like who cares. If I can find my clothes then whatever

I’m allowed to vacuum anything, including my countertops, cupboards, even the inside of my fridge, if i’m too overstimulated to wipe them down right now.

I don’t have to floss every day, once a week is better than never , and I can wipe myself down with baby wipes if a full shower is too much right now

and speaking of wiping down, I can use as much paper towel as I want. I’m the one paying for it now so it doesn’t matter.

I’m allowed to wear cleaning gloves whenever I want, even if it’s just to touch something yucky.

and those snacks I bought, I’m allowed to eat them at 3am on the balcony if I want to, I’m also allowed to shower at 3am. I can go on a walk around the block at 3am too. Im allowed to go anywhere I want whenever I want. I can sit in the grass and play with my toys. I CAN HAVE TOYS!!! I’m allowed to PLAY video games loudly! I can invite my friends over whenever I want, and I can make them leave whenever I want.

And I’m allowed to open multiple boxes of cereal and mix them together. I’m allowed to drink hot chocolate as many times in a day as I want. I’m allowed to drink juice straight from the jug.

I’m allowed to put my food in a pot instead of a bowl because they’re all dirty right now. Im allowed to eat with a spatula instead of a spoon. I’m allowed to throw away dirty dishes that are just too gross for me to clean. Who cares if I break or throw away a $3 bowl? I can get a new one.

I’m allowed to start tasks and not complete them immediately. I washed half of the dishes and then felt overwhelmed, I’m allowed to stop and do something else. I’ll come back to it. At least 50% of the task is done now.

I can move my furniture around whenever I want. I can put a tv in my bathroom if I want to. I can put a couch in the kitchen to sit on when I’m slightly too overstimmed to stand and make food. I can cover my ceiling in stars and banners. I can decorate however I want. I can write the word FUCK on the wall.

I can wear whatever I want without being nervous my parents will see me. I can bleach my eyebrows, buzz my hair, wear black lipstick and get my face pierced and it won’t be a big deal.

The only meals I make are ones I know I love, I’m not forced to eat things I hate anymore, and Im allowed to throw out half of my meal if I don’t want it without feeling bad.

Im allowed to put posters up without being scared of chipping the dry wall. I can draw all over my walls with washable marker. I can draw all over the floor with chalk.

I’m free to live and do the things that make me feel good. All of the pressure and obligation is gone now. When I was a kid, I was terrified of growing up and having to take care of myself. The truth is that I always was taking care of myself. The adults around me convinced me that it would be miserable and impossible, but they were so wrong. Freedom truly is bliss.

[catmilf4life]

I wish i hated you

Matt sturniolo x fem reader

!no smut in this oneee!

!enemies to lovers!

★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆

I hated matt. I mean it. He always picked on me and made fun of me in school, at my house on the internet he blabbed in his ‘car videos’ about how stupid i am and blah blah blah.

Practically he was a pain in the ass. Maybe just stop talking to him? ignore him? well, I fucking can’t. I really like nick and chris, they never were mean to me or anything and if they did, it was at LEAST funny. Matt was just straight up mean.

“are you fucking kidding me matt?!” I come speed walking through the hallway. My eyes were fixated on matt and his stupid smirk. How could he do this to me! this is too far.

“matt are you an absolute child or are you just stupid and have no brains?!” I yell at him now standing right in front of him. He looks down at me with a smirk lingering onto his face. “what.” he absolutely knew why was I mad and I knew it, he just wanted to piss me off even more push me through my limits and further.

“you said to MY best friend that i fucked with her boyfriend?! how could you!“ I held back my tears as i realised he made my best friend hate me. the one and only friend i had before chris and nick.

She was with me since day one. AND that fucker had to ruin it. “i don’t think she is a real best friend if she believed me instead of you, that’s really fucked up you know?” he said with a small laugh. That laugh made me even more furious. “fuck you, don’t you dare talk to me, ever ever again.” I pushed my tears.

His pupils get bigger as if he was showing some sympathy or sum. I rolled my eyes and left their friend group alone. I didn’t have the energy to fight with him in front of his friends.

It’s afternoon and am sitting in our living room binge watching brooklyn 99 for the fourth time just trying to not think about matt and my best friend.

I didn’t really answer anyone or actually i didn’t even check my phone when i came home. I heard it ding some time to time but nothing i would care about. It’s not my best friend so i don’t give a flying fuck who texts me. I was mad at myself, mad at matt, mad at the whole world.

i was in the middle of the episode when i heard my doorbell ring. I wasn’t expecting anyone my parents were supposed to come later. I put on my bunny slippers and went to the door.

I slowly open the door just a little incase it was a killer or something like that. I peek through a small hole and see the one and only matt sturniolo on my front porch. I roll my eyes as am not in the mood to be fighting and getting laughed at. “what now matt? don’t you know when too much is too much?!” I say now with fully opened door. “i just wanna talk.” he kind of whispered. Was he scared and anxious? The Matt sturniolo being scared? “i don’t want to talk to you remember? I don’t want to talk to you Ever.” i answered now feeling angry. “please let me just talk, you just need to listen. Please.” he pleaded looking at me.

I rolled my eyes as i moved to the side so he could come inside. I leaded him to my living room automatically sitting down on the couch. He sat right next to me.

there was a few second silence. I didn’t want to speak but he wanted so here we are. “am sorry for the thing with your best friend. I know she meant a lot to you. But i can promise i can fix it and i will.” I didn’t believe one bit of his bullshit.

Maybe a bet? Is his friend recording it somewhere? I looked straight into his blue eyes. “I don’t believe you one bit. First of all you come here randomly, just to say sorry for something you did and thinking i’ll be fine? Second why would you now apologise you did so many things why this one. I call bullshit.” I answered speaking the truth. “Look, it’s true i just felt bad after i did it. I took it too far and i realised it, so i came and apologised. Simple.”

i rolled my eyes still not believing one bit of this play. “what can i do for you to believe me?” he asked me waiting for an answer. the truth was there was nothing in this god damn world that would make me believe him. So let see if he is so ‘real’ and means this whole conversation well.

“kiss me.” I reply smirking as i knew he would never put up with the play if he was supposed to kiss me. I wasn’t even his type. I smiled from ear to ear knowing I won this game. He sighed as he looked into my eyes, he looked for a clue or a hint if i meant it or if i played with him.

I closed my eyes as I laughed to myself feeling the victory and a good feeling come back to me.

Until I felt cold lips on mine. I opened my eyes as my pupils went huge. Was Matthew Bernard fucking sturniolo kissing me, his greatest enemy?

So why didn’t he pull away right after? Why didn’t I pull away after the first second i felt his lips on mine? The right question is why did I like it?

I felt butterflies in my stomach swirling around. I kiss him for a second until i pull away.

He looked at me with a smirk crawling onto his face. “you meant it?” I asked him. He nodded his head slightly feeling the embarrassment come to him.

i picked up his chin and melted to the kiss once again. It felt right. This moment felt right.

“God how i wish i hated you”

[writersblog20]

The fight and the love

Pedro Pascal x Agent reader (ANGST) 

Summary: It would’ve been an easy mission. You were supposed to take out a group that was planning a terrorist attack but things soon, turned horribly wrong.

Warnings: SEVERE PTSD, VERY TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCE, mention of terrorism attack, being tortured for information, close to death, all the Symptoms that comes along with PTSD, quick mention of wanting to die but not by suicide, mention of team being murdered and tortured, multiple injuries etc etc, really, read with precaution and if you’re sensitive to these kind of things, I would advise you not to read this story. I have a masterlist with more uplifting and comforting storied but I wanted to try something new.

Words: 6K (oops)

I’M NOT JOKING, READ WITH PRECAUTION PLEASE! 

A/N: This could be read as platonic or romantic relationship with Pedro. Also hi, I’m sorry for being so inactive for too long, I’ve been so, so busy with school, my job, and doing the graphics on my own for a big festival so as you can imagine, I don’t have the time to write but I WON’T stop! I’ll post so now and then. Hope you all understand, much love from your homegirl.❤️

The fight and the love

It would’ve been an easy mission they said… This was your first mission as a team leader, and it wouldn’t have been a big deal but that was nothing close to the truth. One thing you were sure about, there was a leak. But that wasn’t your big concern right now. Getting out of this situation alive, was your biggest concern. You needed to get yourself and your team back home.

You were supposed to stop a terror attack, but it was a well planed trap, taking you and your team somewhere secluded to spread terror across the country. They send videos public of yourself and your team getting tortured, and it booked the news all over the news. Not that you knew all of that, but you did know that the torture sessions were getting recorded. They wanted to know something and since you were the leader of the team, they came regular back into the room you were placed in.

Your breathing was wheezy, suspectedly from a collapsed lung, you guessed. You looked at the stab wounds which were burned to stop the bleeding, so they could keep torturing you and try to get information from you. You told them lies. You knew they would kill you if you didn’t give them something, yet they would kill you if you would tell the truth. They were doubting if you were lying or not so that’s how you’re still alive, inside some sort of chamber.

You had no idea how long you were here. It felt like an eternity, but it might’ve been 2 days or 2 weeks. You had no access to sunlight, keeping you guessing if it was night or day. You stared at the cement wall in front of you and thought about Pedro and the tears fell across your face. You were sure that you were not getting out of here alive. You just wished you would’ve told him how much he means to you, hug him, tell him you loved him. That was all you could think about in here, Pedro and how the hell you were getting yourself out of this. You were scared to death that he might’ve seen a torture video of you, that might’ve been worse than the torture because you knew it would affect him on a deeper level. You didn’t want those images circling his mind. You wanted him to think about the happy memories.

That was how you didn’t give up. There were many, many moments where you just wanted to die. Wanted them to kill you and be over with this. The moments where they were waterboarding and your lungs feeling on fire, thinking every second will be your last. Every hit, every shock, every stab wound, made you just want to die but then Pedro flashes through your mind. The moments of laughter, the hugs, silly dances, serious conversations, and most importantly, the love you felt in his presence. He was and will always be, the most important person in your entire live. Pedro was your family. And the moments you were the most scared in the torture sessions, all you could think of was Pedro, thinking that every minute was going to be your last and you didn’t want to go with the feeling of being absolutely petrified. No, you wanted to think about someone you loved, Pedro.

You had no clue when your last ‘session’ was. To keep yourself sane, you talked to the wall, imagining it was Pedro. You told the wall everything you wanted to tell him. You had no idea if your team members were still alive, who weren’t or if you were the only one. The thoughts about the government handling this came to mind as well. Were they planning on rescuing you, or not. You knew that they wouldn’t negotiate with terrorist so that scared you. The thought of nobody coming to rescue you was horrible. You had to keep your mind from swirling down into a deep rabbit hole, so you refocused on the happy memories with Pedro. Like the days he brought you to Disney because he heard you’ve never been there, taking you to the beach, or you taking him back to your birth country and show him the things from your childhood. You felt helpless yet determined. It was such a rollercoaster of emotions and thoughts. You were sure that this was a form of torture as well as the physical.

The door slammed open, and you saw the terrorist for the first time without something covering their face and at that moment, you were sure you were going to die. They walked over to you, dragging you up. You tried to fight back but your entire body was in too much pain. You had no idea how many bones they broke but you were sure there would be a couple. They kicked you and you screamed as loud as you could and kicked around but they got you. You promised yourself, not to go down without putting up a fight. They dragged your body into the torture room, and you saw blood everywhere. You were sure someone just died in here. There was no way that someone could lose this much blood and still be alive.

They placed you on a table and you knew the drill. Waterboarding. You felt your heartrate pick up, the thundering against your chest, your breathing shallow and fast. You tried to beg for mercy, crying your eyes out at this point and tried to fight them.  A towel was placed over your face, and you felt water being poured over you, the air escaping you. You tried to remain as calm as possible at this point, trying to keep as much air in your lungs as you could. But as usual, they kept the towel on your face for a very long time. You started gasping for air and tried to wiggle around but they had put something sharp on your wrist, ankles, and neck, making every movement even more unbearable because of the pain. You felt yourself grow dizzy and slowly losing consciousness until you passed out.

~time skip~

You felt something sharp hit you, waking you up in an unbearable feeling of pain as you let out a blood curling scream. You tried to wiggle away but the sharp things, keeping you in place, which you could now see was barbed wire. You saw the blood seeping down and a big knife in your stomach and you were certain they had hit an organ, making you bleed intern. They took out the knife and they plunged it into your leg, making you scream again, and they repeated this for a while, screaming things in a different language. They held the knife up to your throat and made you look in the camera. And this was the moment you were sure that you were going to die in here. You saw the camera blink red. Tears streamed down your face and all you could think of was the world seeing you die. Pedro, seeing you die. You needed him to know that you loved him so that was what you said: “I love you Pedge.” The knife was tightly against your throat, and you felt hot liquid wall down from where the knife was and closed your eyes, expecting it to happen right now until there was an extremely loud sound coming from outside.

So loud that the whole building shook. The camera fell, just like the terrorists besides you. everything was covered in dust, making it hard to see. Your ears were buzzing, and people were screaming around you, giving out orders and from pain. There was still a knife in your leg, and you knew that this was your only chance to escape so you took the knife out of your leg and tried to cover your scream. You started slicing in the wires and luckily, you were loose. You saw that they left the door open, and you tried to stand up but fell from the pain and the loss of blood.

You saw people in uniforms coming in, a green laser from their guns. “Found her!” a man screamed and helped you up. Another soldier helping you as well, leading you out of the room and building. “We’re going to get you out of here chief.” They said and it was an odd feeling of relieve, yet horror. People were screaming all around you, your vision blurry and you fell again. They picked you up and carried you outside. The sun was out, shining brightly on your face. It was hot and still dusty. You looked around you and saw a couple of buildings around you, probably base camp of some sorts. There was a lot of sand, and the sun was already burning you. They gave you water since you were very dehydrated. That was the moment it occurred to you that they didn’t give you food. It might be strange not to think about it earlier but with all the pain and torture going around, that was the last thing on your mind.

They brought you to the rescue helicopter and immediately a doctor looked at your wounds. The way her nose scrunched up and her eyebrows knitted together, didn’t give you the best feeling in the world, even though it was no surprise to you how badly you were injured. Yes, they’ve rescued you out of the building but there was still an immediate danger for your life. The moment the helicopter raised up, a feeling of safety washed over you. A colleague who went along on the mission, held your hand. You wanted to ask where everyone was, but you couldn’t talk, you didn’t know why. She was trying to get every wound stable, her hands grabbing stuff around her as you slipped in and out of consciousness.

“Hey kiddo, come on, stay awake for me, okay?” your colleague begged you. “We’re going to get you home, okay? But you’ve got to stay awake for me.” you squeezed his hand and the doctor spoke up: “This is bad. It’s not looking good right now. Can we go faster?” she asked worried. You just tried to stay focused on your colleague until you felt everything grow very heavy, including your eyelids. You heard people begging around you to stay away and you tried to, but the feeling of your heavy eyelids won.

~

“Put her on the stretcher!” your colleague shouted. The helicopter was landed on the roof of the hospital, the other doctors already waiting for you. The doctor from the helicopter, staying by your side and keeping the bags of blood transfusion and painkillers, and the IV. Some soldiers put pressure on the wounds inflicted on you. They wheeled you in and Pedro was walking back and forth, biting his nails, hair ruffled, baggy eyes from lack of sleep and crying. His eyes went big as they wheeled you in the hospital and tried to get you as fast to surgery as possible. The doctor from the helicopter, telling the doctors her founding’s. Pedro was by your side in a second and was shocked to see the state that you were in. The tears streamed down his face as he looked at your bloody, bruised body that was covered by wires, bags, and Iv’s. Your colleagues took Pedro away and informed him while the rolled you immediately into surgery.

~time skip~

Your head was pounding, ears still buzzing, and your body started to tense up from anxiety and adrenaline. You heard a familiar beeping sound, speeding up, and you tried to open your eyes. The pain rushed back to you and the room was too light. You whimpered from the pain and felt that somebody was holding your hand. “baby girl?” you heard a very familiar voice, whisper. His voice cracked as he asked you. You tried to blink a few times, but everything looked blurry. You saw Pedro bow a bit down over you. You squeezed his hand in response, your voice still very painful and croaky. You heard someone walk in with heels. Everything in you was now on high alert. You knew you were safe and probably in a hospital yet, your body didn’t know that and was still completely in survival modes.  You kept blinking until the blur wasn’t so obvious anymore.

You saw Pedro with tears pooling in his eyes and it broke your heart into a million pieces. This was the man that kept you going so long, that made you want to keep on fighting, keeping you alive, sane, and not so alone. You felt everything crumble down as you let the tears out. A loud sob escaped your throat, hurting you in the process as you tried to reach your arms around him but to no avail. Luckily, Pedro knew what you wanted and very carefully placed his arms around you, and hang a bit over your body, making it look like he was shielding you from every dangerous thing in the world. You hid your face in the crook of his neck and completely broke down as his comforting smell hit your nose, giving you the feeling of safety back.

“Oh, baby girl.” He tried to calm you down, but he was way too emotional as well and cried. You just both held each other, and you tensed every muscle that you had around him, to feel him close even though it pained you. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” That were the first words you told him. He didn’t know why you thanked him at that time, but you were sure to tell him why later. More sobs escaped you and you felt something move the iv in your arm, making you panicked again. Your body jolted from panic as you tried to move Pedro away and look at what was happening. Even though your rational thoughts knew it was a doctor, you just didn’t trust it. You saw a kind face looking at you and before you could do anything she spoke up: “Don’t worry, I’m just readjusting your iv and put some extra medication in against the pain and to keep you relaxed.”

You had a rollercoaster of emotions floating through you right now. From panic, to feeling safe, to feeling scared and in danger to emptiness again. Pedro saw the swirl of emotions in your eyes just like the doctor. Pedro’s heart broke even more, seeing you like this. “Do you remember what happened?” The doctor asked softly and now you finally took in your surroundings. You were in a hospital room, next to a window. It was dark out and you could see lights from the skyscrapers. The lights in the room dimmed but since they kept you in darkness for God knows how long, it obviously pained your eyes,

“How long was I in there?” that was all you needed to know. The doctor looked down with a pained expression just like Pedro. “A week and a half. They found you through some details in the video that was shown public.” You frowned “Public?” you felt your heartbeat go up and the doctor and Pedro looked at the monitor. “Videos of you, and your team being tortured and killed, got leaked to the public…..” and once again, it felt like your world was crashing down on you. “Everyone has seen it?” You asked and your voice cracked. Pedro sniffled and nodded as he looked down for a second before making eye contact. You saw it. you could see it in his eyes, clear as day, that he had seen the things and you felt your heart break once again.  “I’m so sorry, baby girl.” You weren’t sure why he was apologizing but nodded, tears escaping.

‘How long have I been here?” you decided to ask and change the subject. “2 days or so. We were expecting for you to be asleep for a week, given your injuries.” She told you honest. “What are my injuries exactly?” you looked at her, kind of afraid of her answer. It became dead silent in the room as she handed you the file. You frowned a bit and opened your file. You saw a whole goddamn list of injuries. Broken ribs, 24 stab wounds, collapsed lung, internal bleeding from your abdomen, jaw broken on multiple places, broken eye socket, multiple stiches needed for the cuttings, broken wrist, broken ankle, water found in lungs, badly bruised neck, and the list just went on and on.

You felt tears pooling in your eyes and handed the doctor her files back, not wanting to read more for now. “There will be a psychologist seeing you tomorrow. To adjust ehh.. your mental health…” you nodded and felt a brick on your heart. You just wanted to forget about it all and never talk about it again, but you knew. You knew damn well. You already had PTSD but now…. yeah, you knew the drill, didn’t make it any easier though.

“Thank you.” you tried to steady your voice but failed. She nodded “Can I do something else for you? How is the pain now and do you maybe want to eat or drink something?” she asked you and you didn’t know. Everything was just so intense right now that even answering the easiest questions was too hard. “Do you want some water sweetheart?” Pedro crouched down on eyesight, figuring out what kind of mental state you were in and tried to make it easier for you. Pedro’s voice was so soft and kind that it brought you to tears again. You nodded about drinking some water. “I’ll give you something stronger for the pain.” She decided for herself, and you were glad she did.

You couldn’t look away from Pedro. It felt unreal to see him again. For, apparently, a week and a half you were so sure that you were going to die and never see him again. But you were here and so was he. The doctor walked away, and Pedro found it hard to make eye contact with you. To see the pain in your eyes was too much for him to handle. You brushed your bruise knuckles over the back of his hand. “Please look at me.” You begged him as your voice broke. He slowly looked up, tears in his eyes as well. “Please stay with me. I’m scared.” You told him through tears as you confessed and that was what broke him the most, hearing you, the person he knew that wasn’t afraid of anything, tell him that you were scared. Tears fell onto his cheeks.

He intertwined your fingers, and you cupped his cheek to softly wipe the tears of his cheek. “Can you please hold me?” you sniffled, having enough of being strong right now. You just wanted to be held so badly. He nodded “Of course, mi Chica.” He sniffled and kissed your forehead as he stood up, letting his lips linger on your forehead. Your hands carefully held his wrist that ever so carefully cupped your cheek. Pedro sniffled again and let his forehead rest against yours. “I was so afraid to lose you.” Pedro confessed as his tears escaped his eyes again. “I was afraid that I was never going to see you again, tell you how much I love you, hold you.” he kept confessing and somehow you felt relieved yet pained that he felt the same thing as you did. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here now.” you sniffled through your own tears. He nodded and took a deep breath to control himself.

You tried to scoop over so Pedro could lay down next to you, but the pain was too much. “Lie still sweetheart, I don’t want you to be in more pain as it is.” You whimpered slightly. You didn’t care about the pain, you wanted Pedro to cuddle you, and the determination was visible on your eyes as he chuckled softly, but it also told him in how much of desperation you were for him right now.

The doctor walked back in and softly knocked, exposing her presence as not to scare you. You and Pedro looked at her and as if she figured out what you wanted, she smiled kindly at you. “We could put an extra bed besides you, if you’d like…” she told the two of you with a smile. You nodded and tried to give her a genuine smile back but failed. She gave you a bottle of water with a straw in and put the things besides you to your other side. Pedro helped her with the bed and placed it tightly against yours. Pedro took his shoes off and climbed in next to you as the doctor put some stronger medication into your iv. “There you go, you should be able to sleep a bit now. Get some rest, you and your body need it right now. And if there is anything, anything at all, just press this button and I’m here within seconds.” You could cry at how kind she was right now. It probably was because of the week and a half full of torture and hate that it felt unnatural that someone was kind. It just felt off.

You whispered a small thank you and looked at her with tears in your eyes. She gave you an apologetic smile back and nodded, walking out of the room. You looked at Pedro who held a close eye on you, as suspected. He carefully placed his arm underneath your head so you could rest on it. “I’ll hold you on one condition.” It felt like he was strict right now “If it pains you, you tell me, okay? and we figure another way out, alright baby girl?” He asked you and looked deeply into your eyes so the message would be clear. You nodded and let him hold you. He laid down on his side, his other arm around you and you let your head rest against his shoulder. “Thank you.” you whispered out. You felt the meds kicking in like a brick. It got you relaxed and sleepy and it worked like a charm. Your eyes heavy again and you fell asleep in no time just not for long. Night terrors are a common symptom of PTSD and even though you were safe, it wasn’t over.

“baby girl wake up! Sweetheart! please wake up…..” Pedro tried to wake you up from a bad night terror. The doctor and nurses ran into the room. “Miss…. Miss, you’re dreaming wake up.” but nothing worked so they decided to doze up your medication until you shot up straight in bed, completely out of breath, still in a panic. You were in the hospital, but the flashbacks got you back into the chamber and in everyone around you, you saw those terrorists. You screamed on the top of your lungs and tried to fight them off. Pedro was shocked in horror at how bad this was.  I mean, of course he knew it was bad, he saw the videos. But the moment you didn’t recognize Pedro, he knew you needed help. Tears floating in his eyes again when a nurse ran out of the room. Even though, you are very badly injured, your need to survival was stronger, making you inhumanly strong from the adrenaline right now.

Pedro walked up to you while the nurses tried to hold you down, so you wouldn’t tear up the stitches. Pedro was determined to bring you back and cupped your cheeks. Your eyes were extremely big, pupils blown as he looked desperately in your eyes. “Baby girl, it’s me, Pedro. Remember? Your safe, I won’t let anything bad happen to you, look at me Chiquita. Come on, I know you’re in there. please, I need you.” his voice begging you more with each word. You slowly stopped struggling and Pedro could see it in your eyes that you were back. Your heartrate slowly going down, while you tried to catch your breath and looked around you in shock of what you just did. Tears forming in your eyes. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry… I eh…..” you were shocked in horror at how bad it was, I mean, it’s to be suspected but still, how could you forget your Pedge? They all took a deep breath that you were back. Pedro softly petted over your hair in order to calm you down more and letting you know that he is there. “I’m sorry…” you looked teary eyed at the nurses and doctors.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. It’s not a little thing you went through. IT completely understandable. But thank you for apologizing even though you don’t have to.” You felt tears running over your cheeks as the realization hit you that you were going to have to deal with a lot of things. You just started crying, feeling so extremely defeated that for a moment, you whished they just would’ve killed you and that thought made you even cry more because on the other hand you were happy to be alive and with Pedro, but it was all so much and confusing with all these emotions running through your body.

You tried to collect your head when a nurse spoke up: “Would you like to maybe watch a movie or something light? It might help you fall asleep a bit more peaceful and distract you.” The other nurses exchanged looks as if it was a good idea and to be honest, you would like that. You tried to give her a smile and nodded “That might be a good idea. I would like that.” She smiled and nodded.

She gave you the tv remote and told you that Netflix was available. The nurses still gave you the medication to calm you down if you would have another flashback. Pedro noticed your need for distraction right now and he gave you all the room and time to share your story with him, whenever you are ready. He was just relieved that he had you back in his arms again.

Pedro was glued to your side, and you didn’t mind it one bit, you needed him to be as close as possible. You both watched the Golden Girls. Pedro told you about the show once and you decided to watch a couple of episodes with him and you loved it.  Even though you tried to focus on the tv but you kept going back to that moment which you thought would be your last. “I thought I would never see you again.” You whispered as your head was resting on his chest in a way that didn’t hurt you. You felt Pedro shift and you knew he was looking at you, so you looked up.

You felt your eyes filled up with tears again for the millionth time that day. “I thought I was going to die there and all I could think about was you.” Pedro felt his heart break and tears escaped his eyes but didn’t say something. He just let you speak, knowing you weren’t finished telling him. “All I could think of that week and a half was you. You kept me going when I wanted to die. They put me in a chamber for so long in complete darkness and I would talk to the wall, pretending I was talking to you. It kept me somehow sane.” Pedro listened intently to every word you told him. He was absolutely gob smacked to what you confessed and how much he meant to you.

“When they would…. When they did those things to me… I wanted nothing more than to die right on the spot, hoping they would have mercy and take me out of my misery but… when those thoughts came, so did you, it was like you pushed those thoughts away and when they would…. torture me… all I thought was about happy memories of us. Of us in Disneyland, dancing in the livingroom, sneaking into a theater to see the reaction of people who watched you on the big screen. Every happy memory I could think of, was with you. You kept me going, kept me fighting to survive.”

Pedro couldn’t help but cry from the moving words you confessed to him. “I thought… I was never going to see you again. I wanted to tell you so many things, hug you and see you for the last time. I was so sure of it to never see you again, and so convinced I was going to die there and already accepting my faith, that… that it feels weird to see you again. Like it all isn’t real and I’m just imagining it, like I’m going crazy, and I’ve finally lost it in there that I’m imagining all of this. I don’t know what’s real or not anymore….” Pedro was silently letting his tears fall until you confessed that you weren’t sure if this was real. That part brought determination to him.

“Mi corazon…. This is real, I’m real. You are safe but I understand that you don’t feel that way… that it messes with your head. But I know you trust me, and let me tell you, this is real. He carefully took your hand in his and placed it on his chest where his heart is. “You feel that? That’s real. All of this is real. I’m lost for words to your story… it… I …. I love you too. I’m so sorry that this happened, really, I can’t express it enough. And I love you too, I really do. When you’re fully recovered, we are going to make so many more happy memories. So much more that it won’t leave room for the bad” he told you and his digit softly tapping against your head. “We’ll get through this, together. I won’t leave your side and when you can get out of here, please stay at my house for a while. I’ll take care of you, love you through the good and the bad and won’t ever leave you. Come here sweetheart, your safe now.” he told you and let you cry it out while he comforted you through it.

“I would like that, to stay a while with you after this.” you talked through the sniffles.

~time skip~

It’s been over 3 months and you moved in with Pedro for a while. You had trauma therapy at least 3 times in the week and the aftermath of the event was unbelievable heavy. Panic attacks, night terrors, flashbacks, dissociation. Your triggers were enormous. Like the shower already triggered you from the waterboarding. Not to forget that your body was still recovering. It was tough but Pedro kept true to his word, not that you thought differently but still. He had soooo much patience and helped you through every flashback, every night terror, every panic attack, he was there, and you could count on him.

You’ve been given a while from work to readjust. But you still had court sittings. You had to testify against some of the terrorists that were still alive and in captivity. They had all the recordings, inclusive the last video, just before you got rescued. They haven’t shown that tape to the public but now would be the first time and obviously, Pedro was there to support you. They played the tape, and you couldn’t look. You couldn’t look at the screen, couldn’t look at the people in court, couldn’t look at Pedro because you knew, what you though were, your last words.

Every now and then your curiosity got the best of you and stole a glance from Pedro who stared in disbelieve at the screen, tears going over his cheek as he shook his head. The moment you looked in the camera, you looked up at the screen. God you looked bad, like really bad in that video that you are shocked yourself that you even made it out alive. That was how bad you looked like.

You looked down again and heard through the speakers in the court room: “I love you Pedge.” Pedro’s eyes went wide and immediately landed on you, the pool of tears visible in his eyes as he tried to give you a loving smile. Which you tried to return but in both of your expressions, there was too much pain. The people in the room went silent and the judge as well, everyone was taken aback by the horrors that played out on the screen.

~time skip~

Pedro opened the door of his car for you and helped you in. both of you were still lost for words after the video being played. Not only that, but you also saw how the people of your team die. It was a very hard day. The terrorist won’t be seeing the daylight ever in their life and you couldn’t care less about it right now. so many emotions going through you. “Why don’t we pick up some ice cream for at home?” Pedro softly asked you, both of you still not mentioned about what you said in the video. “Yeah, sure.” You told him and there was a thick silence again that you both felt.  You looked over at Pedro who had tears in his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the way. You knew that this hit him very hard. You placed your hand gently on his and he looked over at you, trying to push his tears away. “I told you, I was thinking about you all the time. I just… I thought I was going to die and… and I didn’t want to go out without saying that I loved you. I needed you to know that.” Pedro parked on the side of the road and sniffled. He got out of the car without saying anything and it almost had sent you into a complete panic attack. He opened your door and you looked at him, afraid of what was to come.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you as he sat on his knees on the ground and held you tightly while some sobs escaped his own throat. His face was against your stomach, and you went with your fingers through his hair and held him tightly with your other arm. When he calmed down after a while, he sniffled. “I’m sorry. It’s different to really see it on video. I wanted to attack that guy so bad because of what eh has done to you. it made me furious and to hear you say, what you thought were your last moments. I just… it hit me that… that you wanted your last words….” He couldn’t finish it, but you knew what he meant. To direct your last words to him.

You cupped his cheeks and gave him for the first time in a very, very long time a genuine smile. He started laughing through his tears and put his arms around you in a big hug. “I love you too and there won’t be a day gone by without me saying that to you. I love you to the moon and back.” he kissed your head multiple times. “Like you said, we’ll get through this together.” Pedro smiled and held you tightly. “So how about that ice cream, and cuddles when we get home? We could watch a movie if you’d like?” he told you enthusiastic which made you smile, genuinely again. It hyped Pedro even more up to finally see that beautiful smile after 3 months. “That sounds very nice Pedge. I’d like that.” You told him and he drove off with a smile as he held your hand.

[ivanttakethis]

End of Round 23 - Tov’s Log

Daiki (41) vs. Khoi (58) -> Khoi Win

————————————————————

Vermillion was dead.

Daiki was dead too.

Tov didn’t know how to feel. Especially about Daiki.

The television started working again before Round 23. Possibly the first sign that the lockdown was coming to an end.

Tov wasn’t sure what compelled her to watch; call it morbid curiosity. But she gave the performance her full attention.

Daiki sang about a vortex of emotion. Truth hidden away in shadows. Fates out of one’s control.

Then.

The music stopped.

A different melody swelled to fill the silence.

And she was singing again.

"In other words, hold my hand~ in other words, darling, kiss me."

"You are all I long for, all I worship and adore."

"In other words, please be true, in other words, I love you."

Daiki was singing for someone.

Just like Tov had sung for Tallis.

She loved someone.

The same way Tov loved Tallis.

How could she fault her for that? For wanting to win — for wanting to live — to stay with that person?

Tov would’ve given anything, done anything, to stay with Tallis.

Perhaps she and Daiki were more alike than she cared to admit.

Maybe they could’ve come to understand each other, under different circumstances.

But Tov would never disparage her opponents. Not in life, and certainly not in death.

The thought of being so flippant about the death of another contestant made her sick to her stomach.

Tov understood what Daiki did for love.

She couldn’t forgive her for her arrogance.

Even still, something small and tender in Tov’s heart broke when the guard shot Daiki straight through hers.

———

The lockdown lifted the next morning.

Breakfast was held in the canteen.

Tov didn’t see Himei yet, so she sat across the table from Lang.

Lang looked up at her with big dark eyes rounded in surprise.

There was so much Tov wanted to ask her about Nyx.

How was he when you last saw him?

Was he scared? Nervous?

Did he laugh or cry?

What was the last thing he said to you?

With only eight contestants left, the room was so much quieter than it had been just a short while ago.

Even if she whispered, the guards would still hear.

So Tov said nothing more than a quiet, “Good morning.”

Lang caught herself, nodding once, “Morning.”

They’d have to talk more candidly later.

Though Tov wasn’t sure how much privacy they would be granted back.

“Morning ladies.” Himei greeted as she took the empty seat next to Tov.

Tov’s spoon, raised halfway to her mouth, clattered onto her tray at the sight of Himei’s face.

New, blooming bruises littered her face. Scratch marks covered both of her cheeks. Her bottom lip was split open.

She sucked in a sharp breath, “Andromedas, what happened to you?”

Himei wouldn’t meet her eyes.

Her collar turned from orange to red.

“It was Noora.” She said quietly.

Tov frowned. “Noora did all of this?” She almost couldn’t believe it.

Noora hadn’t been a violent girl back in Anakt Garden. She was sweet, almost saccharine at times, and bubbly in a way that wasn’t irritating.

Wren reminded her a lot of Noora.

Was someone like that really capable of doing something like this?

If the proof weren’t right before Tov’s eyes, she would’ve said no right away.

“I think she panicked when she realized she’d lost.” Himei said.

She supposed that made sense. You never truly know what a person will do in the face of death until it’s right there in front of them.

But still… something didn’t feel right.

Tov couldn’t help but wonder if Lark played a role in Noora’s outburst.

It was no secret that Tov and Himei were close. Just like it was no secret that Lark and Noora were close.

Could Noora have attacked Himei as revenge?

If Noora thought Tov poisoned Lark, taking him away from her, could she have attacked Himei to take her away from Tov?

“I’ll heal in a few days, Tov.” Himei said, drawing her out of her thoughts. “Don’t worry too much about it.”

You’re one of the only people I have left in my life.

I’m always going to worry about you.

Tov didn’t say any of that. She simply sighed and returned to her food.

———

After breakfast, the contestants were allowed to walk back to their rooms without any escorts.

Not that this provided much in the way of freedom. There were still guards posted at each of the doors on their dorm floor.

As soon as she reached her door, Tov took one look at the guard’s shoulders and knew immediately that they were the messenger.

With breakfast now in a public space, she wasn’t going to get any more notes.

This could be her last chance to find out who was behind the notes and what their motives were.

She needed to act.

The guard stepped aside to allow Tov entry. As she passed by, she noticed a uniform patch stitched on the back of their right arm.

It was white with a green border and a matching green cross in the center.

The guard is a medic.

It figured they would be if they were assigned to her, given her heart condition.

She could use this to her advantage.

There wasn’t enough time to fully flesh everything out, but some semblance of a plan quickly coalesced in her mind.

Tov shut the door, locked it, and set about preparing.

If she wanted to isolate this guard, she needed to get them in her room.

The only way to do that without drawing suspicion was a medical emergency.

Her heart was far too fragile mess with for some information that may or may not be worth the risk.

She would have to fake it instead.

There were two medical alert buttons in her room: one next to her bed and the other next to the tub in her private bathroom.

The bathroom would work the best.

Tov took off her medical band and set it on her nightstand, before going into the bathroom.

She knelt down next to the tub and turned on the faucet, but left the stopper unlatched to prevent any spill over. Tov just needed to get the guard’s attention, not flood the place.

Once she hit the button, she’d only have a few seconds to get in place before the guard came in.

Forcing them to unlock the door first would only buy her a little more time.

No sense in waiting around.

Tov pressed the button and took off, pulling the bathroom door shut behind her. She could already hear the guard working the lock open.

She vaulted over her bed and pressed herself up against the wall just as the guard came in. The door swung all the way open, effectively concealing Tov from view.

Good.

Keep going.

“Subject-020547?” They called out.

Footsteps quickly crossed the room towards the bathroom door.

They pounded on the door three times.

“Subject-020547? I received your medical alert message. I’m coming in.”

As the guard pushed open the bathroom door, Tov quietly pushed the entryway door closed.

The guard still had their back to her, looking dumbfounded at the empty room with a running tub.

They shut off the faucet.

Tov clicked the lock into place.

Perfect.

As if they had a sixth sense for danger, the guard whipped around to face her.

“Tell me everything you know.” She ordered. “Now.”

————————————————————

Oh how the turn tables…

I had way too much fun writing this log lol. I’m only stopping here because it’s already way too long.

Rest in peace to my favorite morally questionable lesbian, Daiki. You picked an absolute banger of a song to go out on 😔👊 (stream Vortex pls, it’s great).

I thought it was fitting to have Tov see some of herself in Daiki, since Himei tried to embody Daiki during her latest performance. Parallels and all that.

I wasn’t sure if anyone other than Daiki knew about Tina, so I kept it ambiguous who Daiki was singing for here.

Tov also caught onto the fact that Noora attacked Himei for a different reason than she’s telling her, but then completely missed the point and blamed herself. *sighs*

Daiki belongs to @daiki1k.

Himei and Tallis belong to @lookatmysillies.

Lang belongs to @pwippy.

Nyx belongs to @rockwgooglyeyes.

Noora and Lark belong to @kamersona.

(Please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in these posts, I totally understand that I have a tendency to yap… a lot.)

[indomitable-mrs-barkley]

Unexpected and Undeserving

Here I am with another Cassiel fic. A bit long this time 🫶🫶🫶

The pain had dulled to nothing. After years of getting wounded on the job, it was just something Cassiel had learned to live with. He gently pressed the gauze against his right shoulder one last time before tossing it into the bin. The bleeding had slowed significantly, he noticed as he inspected the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, considering the force of the strike. A blade like that should have been enough to take his head off, an utter reminder that even he couldn’t afford to be careless.

Yet, there were things far more painful than any physical wound, a truth Cassiel knew all too well. He could still feel the lingering ache of Audrey’s near death and the void her absence left in his already damned soul, gnawing at him relentlessly. After that fateful incident in the village, he found himself almost reluctant to give up his turn to watch over her, much to the dismay of Mikael and the others, who had become reluctant witnesses to his torment. Every moment away from her was pure agony.

He frowned, reaching for a damp washcloth, when suddenly, he froze. The door, he had left it open again. And now, in the dim light, he saw the unmistakable shadow of Audrey. Cassiel cursed under his breath just as she chose that moment to step forward, announcing her presence from the threshold.

“I-” Audrey stammered, her eyes darting everywhere but toward his bare torso, when he cut her off saying "I guess you’ve had enough of spying for today. Or were you afraid of getting caught red-handed?" he finished dryly.

Scrowling, she walked into the room and stopped close to him, her eyes now fixed on his shoulder. He could feel her exhilarating presence with his entire soul. Then she looked up at him, guilt was evident in her eyes. Ignoring his jab, she continued, "I was just passing by and heard you curse. Is it too painful?"

Cassiel shifted his gaze away from her face and continued cleaning the wound with a damp washcloth. "I’ll live. No need to worry about someone else cleaning the kennel, " he replied with a hint of sarcasm.

She rolled her eyes at that, and he couldn’t help but enjoy her reaction. Though he found it difficult with each passing day not to think about the other ways he could make her roll her eyes. Audrey moved closer and softy said, "You should stop being your cheerful self for a moment and let me help you with this." After a brief pause, she added with quiet insistence, "Please."

Her sweet scent filled his senses, and even in the dim light, he could see her lips move as she spoke. He was so captivated that it took him a moment to reply. "Aren’t you scared? I wouldn’t want to frighten away Astrea’s most valued employee just after her return. The guys, especially David, would never let me hear the end of it", he grumbled.

With a sigh, she gently took the washcloth from him and began cleaning the wound with careful precision. Cassiel studied her face, searching for any hint of repulsion or fear.

"You don’t scare me, Cas. You just don’t." She finally looked up, and he was stunned by the determination in her eyes. Then, as if embarrassed by her own revelation, Audrey lowered her eyes, her cheeks flushing a brilliant shade of red. Something tightened in his chest. He wanted to lift her chin, make her look up so he could lose himself in her eyes again.

When she finished cleaning the wound, she set the cloth aside and picked up the ointment, applying it gently over the now clean cut. But suddenly, as if she couldn’t hold back any longer, she blurted out, "Do I need to call Raphael? Am I doing this right? Does it sting?"

He blinked at the fast paced questions she just threw at him and frowned. "I’m fine. Do you really think I can’t handle a minor wound?" he replied, irritation creeping into his voice.

Audrey bit her lip, trying not to smile, and looked up at him. "Oh, my bad! I forgot that the mighty knight who fought off the huge bat in my room is immortal and invincible."

His heart skipped a beat, and he asked, confused, "Is that a joke?"

Shaking her head, she picked up the bandage to secure the wound and asked again, "How did it happen?"

Cassiel, his voice edged with annoyance, said, “Are you always this inquisitive, or is it just me?”

Her lips curled into a knowing smile. "Only with you, since you’re the most forthcoming and talkative."

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. "That’s not funny," he grumbled.

"Then work on your sense of humor," she shot back, continuing to wrap the wound.

Curious to know more about what was going on in her pretty little head, he prompted, "It’s part of the job."

Audrey sighed and looked up, her eyes filled with questions. "Always, isn’t it?"

Instead of answering, Cassiel gently, though a bit awkwardly, tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ears, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. She was beyond gorgeous, especially in those moments of vulnerability when she opened her heart to him, allowing him to protect and cherish her. He couldn’t help himself.

In that moment, lost deep in each other's eyes, he wanted nothing more than to pull her close, to feel her soft body molding against his rough one, to forget about heaven, hell, and everything in between. But he knew he shouldn't. He would hurt her. More than anything, he needed to protect her from himself. The thought made him clench his jaw.

Her eyes widened, and as if reading his thoughts, she whispered, "I know you would never harm me. I know you care about me, Cas. I-I care about you too. So please-" She swallowed hard. "Please be careful."

Something snapped within him at the sound of her pleading voice. He suddenly pulled her toward him, their faces close, desperate to forget about their impending fate, the case, the beast, their differences, and their shared goal. Sensing his turmoil and taking it as his hesitation, she impatiently gripped his shirt and brought her lips close to his. They breathed into each other, and just as he started doubting her intentions, she suddenly crushed her lips against his.

Cassiel groaned in relief, but Audrey, mistaking the sound for pain, pulled away, frightened. "You better not stop now," he said breathlessly. "Or you might actually kill me."

Realizing what he meant, she carefully wrapped her arms around him, mindful of his wounded shoulder, as he pulled her onto his lap. Threading her fingers through his hair, she kissed him again, this time with assurance.

He drew her closer, not wanting to leave even the smallest space between them. He wanted her, wanted her with all his cold and chipped heart, despite who he was, despite what he was. His pace quickened, driven by a desperate need for more. He wanted to feel her until she was all he could feel, to be consumed by her as he had been by thoughts of her since the day she knocked on their door.

He felt her whimper against him and suppressed a groan, the desire to make her writhe beneath him nearly overwhelming. Just as he was about to invade her mouth with his tongue, she breathlessly pulled away, resting her forehead against his. He closed his eyes feeling her bossom heaving in sync with his chest.

They stayed like that for several minutes, not worrying about the consequences, just savoring the moment. He didn't want to think about what the guys would say. Nothing had felt so right in so long as this kiss.

After catching her breath, Audrey cleared her throat, prompting him to loosen his arms around her. She pulled away and looked at him. But instead of the relief he expected, he saw sadness in her eyes. Anxiety crawled into his heart. Slowly, they stood up, and it finally dawned on him. She was still unsure of what he was. Acceptance of their feelings alone would never be enough. But what will happen when she discovers his true nature? Will it leave her deeply scarred? Will she be able to accept him? Cassiel was determined to ensure she would never have to make that choice.

Quickly masking her sadness with sarcasm, she said, "Much the talker, Cas?" And then with one of her dry smirks, she hurried out of the room before he had the chance to thank her, thank her for giving him a part of herself he knew he didn’t deserve, for accepting a part of himself he believed should be condemned. That's when he decided that no matter what the future held for them, she would always be his to protect.

[buckyownsmylife]

friendzone - chapter 2

The one where director!reader is forced to work alongside her new work crush and the idiot who broke her heart

For general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.  

“Let’s go.” Chris was barely even out of the building and she was already turning the other way, practically running towards the nearest empty room while I stood there unsure of what to do.

Was she even calling out to me? Or did she just want to get away?

It struck me how little it mattered to me. Either way, my feet followed her path as if connected to her intentions, and not my own. “Take off your clothes,” were the first words she told me once I was inside the studio where we were supposed to be filming for the day. 

It was only once they were out of her mouth that she seemed to understand what she’d said.

“I’m being such an idiot.”

“You could never be an idiot.” My mouth also worked faster than my brain, somehow managing to snap hers shut in the middle of the explanation she was no doubt about to latch onto. 

For a second, we just stood there, staring at one another. Trying to connect the dots of what was going on. And then we just both burst into laughter. “I’ll have to admit,” I offered to go first, still between holding in my chuckles, “It’s an awkward position to be in, I’ll give you that.”  

Again, time seemed to stand still. I could feel her eyes on me, but I couldn’t speak. Avoiding her eyes, I looked at the floor as I waited for the inevitable question,

“What do you mean?”

The truth? I didn’t know. Ever since I met her, back in the casting process, something just seemed to click within me. I wanted to get to know her better, I wanted to become close to her.

But then her ex was hired and I forced myself not to think about it.

The first few weeks went by okay. The chemistry was still there - we laughed and we chatted and when we were alone after the filming crew had gone home, we talked - really talked: real conversations, like the ones I couldn’t remember having after this acting gig blew up.

The fight to become a respected filmmaker as a woman made her someone strong, but she’d always been interesting. The stories she told me about college, how she discovered her love for directing, it all spoke to me deeply… it felt as if her story was written for me, a rare book only I would get the pleasure to uncover.

I’d forgotten about the lives we had outside of each other’s company often. Hearing about Chris’ engagement to the movie resolved that. But if I initially thought it was going to hurt, seeing the former lovebirds reacquaint themselves, and having to witness their flame rekindle, I ended up hurt for a completely different reason.

Turns out she didn’t want anything to do with Chris. But in her efforts to shut him out, she did the same to me.

“Don’t worry about it,” I insisted, scared to overstep and diminish whatever was left of the bonds of friendship we’d carefully crafted earlier in the Summer. But if there was anything I’d learned about her in the time we spent together, it was that she never gave up.

“Tell me.” Tenacity should be her middle name, and just the thought of calling her Tenacious T had me smiling, which in turn made her smile too, as she approached me just to poke me. “C’mon!”

“You won’t believe me.” I managed to say despite the tickles attack she’d resorted to. It had me bending down to escape her, but my feet remained solid, in the same spot. I was right where I wanted to be. 

“Try me.” I tried to consider it for a few seconds, but she didn’t seem to want me to think about it at all. “C’mon, Henry. Tell me!” The smile I sent her this time wasn’t nearly as happy. It had her defenses lowering, as she finally stopped moving and stood there staring at me, a question mark perfectly visible in her expression.

“How about instead of being selfish, I tell you something else?” I was the one who crossed the last of the distance between us, pulling her into my arms so I could feel her body against mine. “I’m here for you,” I whispered against her ear, hands rubbing her back in an effort to see her relax, at last.

“Do you want to talk?” I asked once I felt comfortable releasing her - although if it were up to me, I’d stay hugging her forever. She avoided my eyes but nodded in response, and so I reached out to take her hand, guiding us to a couch nearby. It was only ever used in the breaks between scenes, but today, I had a pretty strong feeling it’d be put to good use.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted the second we were both seated. She had one leg bent under her body, which was turned completely to me. “He’s just so infuriating.” And there it was - the moment it all changed; when she confided in me her feelings about another man, and I became the friendly figure I’d wanted to avoid as I fell hopelessly in love with her.

“I can see that.” I didn’t want to remain silent, so I opted to find encouraging words to keep her motivated to unpack everything Chris had brought onto her. She nodded at my words, but it seemed automatic, almost instinctive. “Why do you think he decided to join the movie?”

She didn’t need to tell me about his interference - her expression on his first-day filming was more than enough for me to figure out that she truly didn’t want him there. “Oh, he just enjoys messing up with me.”

But I knew it was more than that. “I don’t think that’s it,” I dared to interrupt her train of thought. “You know, love is always selfish. Always. And he loves you.” I didn’t say that I understood that from my own experience, and she didn’t question it.

“What a fucked up way to show it.” Her response made me laugh. I agreed with her, but didn’t find it necessary to parrot her sentiment. Here I was, trying to show her the same sentiment in a completely different way, and I was still being an egocentric son of a bitch.

What she needed was a friend. And I’d be anything for her, even if it hurt me in the process.

“You deserve someone who’ll take care of you.” It was all I allowed myself to say, in the height of my pain. But when she looked up at me from under her eyelashes, the butterflies that erupted in my lower belly were more than enough to keep the sweet sentiment of falling in love still alive.

“Like you?” She questioned, and there was no irony in the words. No innuendo, no judgment. The sentence came alive as hope itself, and the butterflies took flight inside of me, giving me the confidence not to answer with words of my own, but with a kiss.

I leaned down to connect our lips, and the butterflies broke free. This was always meant to be: her and me, together at last.

Who could blame a fallen man for allowing himself to get carried away? A kiss was all it took for my mind to lose its way. The simple meeting of lips became sensuous - and from then to something more, it was only the matter of having her over my lap, hips swerving in a rhythim only the two of us could hear.

It was the beating of our hearts, in unison at last.

//

I was so fucking horny.

Fighting with Chris all day, every day, was taking a toll on me - and I hadn’t even realized it until I saw the lust in Henry’s eyes.

I’d forgotten I could be an object of desire to someone other than the man who’d cheated on me.

Henry’s kisses were hungry - it felt like he couldn’t believe that this was happening, that I was really there, on his lap, biting his lower lip and pressing myself as close to him as possible. They were precisely the balm I needed to get over this - get over Chris and his stupid fucking smirk.

So I dove right into Henry, hoping to forget all about the hurt and anger that had taken over my life. With his hands rubbing my back, it was hard to remember anything else, much less the real reason why I was right there, making out with the main actor of my movie, instead of directing his scenes like I should be doing.

I didn’t even mind that there were people right outside of the room we were in - people who could walk in at any moment and see exactly what it was that we were doing. All I could focus was on Henry and how delicious it felt to rub myself on that hardness I felt underneath me…

“We should stop.” It all came to a screeching halt once he pulled away from me, hair messed up from when I’d run my nails over his scalp, his chest rising and falling from breathing pretty hard.

I wanted to stay. I wanted to keep kissing him, perhaps even in other places… But he was right. I was doing this for the wrong reasons, at the wrong time, and he deserved more than that.

“Okay,” I agreed and climbed down from his lap with as much dignity as I could muster at the moment. We both took a few seconds fixing up our appearances, and I tried not to look too smug as I caught him trying to hide his boner, but he still saw me.

And we both burst into laughter at the same time.

“This shouldn’t feel weird…” I trailed off, scratching the back of my neck. Unfortunately, it seemed to make Henry concerned, for he instantly jumped out of the couch and reached for my hands.

“I hope this won’t change our relationship…” He started, to which I immediately interrupted with, “I hope it does.” It took him a few seconds to get it, but once he did, the most gorgeous smile known to humankind appeared on his lips.

“Well, since you think that way… What about if we go on a date?” The question surprised me. Egoistically, I hadn’t thought about being with Henry on a romantic level - but now it was too late to back out.

“How about we go right now?” I shrugged, already looking for my bag. “I’m the boss, anyway. I’ll just say I’m feeling uninspired and in need of some one-on-one time with my muse.”

“And your muse is me?” He questioned, amusement clear in his tone and face. I simply nodded.

“Who else would it be? Let’s go!”

It was only later in the evening, once he’d walked me to my hotel, that I started to really think about what had happened, and the implications of what could transpire between us. I’d been involved with an actor before, and it hadn’t ended well for me.

But was Henry really anything like Chris? It didn’t seem that way…

“Where the fuck were you?” My ex’s voice surprised me right as I was opening the door to my hotel room, and I turned around to find him sitting on the hallway, apparently waiting for me.

[quibbs126]

I made Blueberry Ice Cream a new ref

I’m noticing that I tend to give BBIC basically the same pose each time. I need to stop that

Anyways so the description here is basically just me trying to describe him because someone asked me to, and I thought this info paired better with the new ref, so I copy/pasted it here

What I have is that he’s a magic blacksmith, who makes weapons and then enchants them with his magical know how. He’s around his mid 20s, so still pretty young and a bit naïve, and well as headstrong and reckless. He has a habit of not thinking things through, just going with his gut and what he thinks is the right decision, even when sometimes it’s really not, and he tends to underestimate potential consequences (and in other versions of him, these are what cause his ultimate downfall). He means well, it’s just that he doesn’t always think

In this new continuity where he exists in present day, he comes from a line of magic users, with one of his ancestors being the Cookie that founded the Blueberry Yogurt Academy. He became interested in being a blacksmith because he learned one of his other ancestors (the one right before the founder in fact), created a legendary magic sword, that being the Strawberry Jam Sword, but doesn’t really understand its malicious nature (as it seems this isn’t common knowledge) and saw this ancestor purely as someone to look up to, and so he aspired to be just like him, hoping to one day make something as great as he did. Unfortunately he doesn’t know the actual truth of the things that happened

And meanwhile there’s his son, Blueberry Yogurt. In my previous version of BBIC’s story, his son was that aforementioned founder, but now they just happen to share a name. As I’ve stated previously, Blueberry Ice Cream is around his mid 20s or so, and his son is around 4-5, so BBIC’s a relatively young dad; not the youngest, he wasn’t a teen parent or anything, but still. Blueberry Ice Cream’s handling things I’d say relatively well. He loves his son and tries to always be supportive of him, wanting him to live the best he can. I mean it’s not like these two are the most well off, since this is a single income household and BBIC’s still working mostly small time, but they’re doing fine. Having Blueberry Yogurt is something that generally grounds Blueberry Ice Cream, as he can’t just go and chase wild ideas, he has to think about his kid, so it helps him from being too impulsive, not that he isn’t still

I should probably talk about Blueberry Yogurt too. So as stated above, he’s a young boy, around 4-5, he’s very timid and also a bit of a crybaby, very much the opposite of his father. He generally prefers being around adults rather than kids his age, and seems to be more relaxed around them. But he has his strengths, being very perceptive and can sometimes have a better understanding of things than his dad (he’s also got some idea that the story his dad likes so much has more going on than he thinks). He’s interested in solely magic instead of blacksmithing, getting his hands on whatever magic books he can find to learn. Blueberry Ice Cream often buys him whatever magic books he can find since he knows it makes his son happy. He’d also like for his son to maybe toughen up a little, since he always gets scared by other kids, but he more considers it something for later, since he’s still little, maybe it’ll happen on its own

I’m not sure I have much else to say. Though to be honest, I’m coming back and writing the rest of this a couple days after I started, so I may have forgotten things. If I have, I’ll go and write them in here

Edit: I remembered some other stuff

So I’m not entirely sure where they’re living. Originally it was somewhere close to the Dark Cacao Kingdom, since BBIC would use the nearby dragons’ scales in his weapons, but now he’s in modern day and we’re not sure if the twin dragons are still around, I’m not sure where to put him. I suppose he could be living in Dragon City, though he certainly doesn’t fit in color wise

Another thing that relates to his character, I’m not entirely sure how to describe this, but he’s smart and dumb at the same time. Like he can be intelligent, and he’s very knowledgeable on magical things (since his family line’s all about magic), as well as probably weapons among other things, but he can be unaware and just generally and idiot at times. Again I don’t really know how to describe it. I don’t think “high intelligence, low wisdom” really applies to him

But yeah, that’s Blueberry Ice Cream

[sunshinelore]

ok here are my very scrambled thoughts (remember this is just silly theorizing based on the lore taylor has given us)

karlie = betty

taylor = james

maybe liz or zoë or someone else = Augustine

in my personal opinion, it’s very apparent in taylors songs that the love of her life was karlie, and in my own interpretation, taylor messed up and karlie left her.

“i lost you, the one i was dancing with”

“when a good (wo)man hurts you, and you know, you hurt [her] too”

“I was dancing when the music stopped”

all of betty taylor apologizes, proving she’s the one who messed up

“I can go anywhere I want just not home”

“I’ll be getting over you my whole”

and more and more and more and more

and as we’ve seen taylor cant stop with the kaylor references on tour, fashion, lyrics, etc. if she had ended things I don’t think she’d be as hung up as she is. I know she has a hard time getting over things/people, but she really is in deep for karlie. Here is my theory I just came up with 5 minutes ago but in my opinion makes sense. disclaimer: im not an lsk i don’t really believe they are in contact but no shame to lsks! I love y’all and again nobody knows what the truth is but them so all love to everybody and I accept all theories🫶

here’s how I think things went

kaylor is dating and they plan their big coming out. circa 2019 lover era. I think she planned the coming out, her and karlie were excited (nervous, but ready to be free) and ready to spent the rest of their lives together (not in a marriedlor way, not yet. I think taylor wanted that regardless, but karlie only wanted it if they came out maybe.) i think karlie wanted a family/kids but clearly they couldn’t have that unless they came out.

“Give you my wild, give you a child.”

I don’t think her and karlie were broken up when she was writing lover. The only song that I think really hints at that is dbatc which I just think Taylor got inspired like I don’t think it was based on current feelings.

maybe taylor got scared or the masters heist stopped it, idk, but coming out fails. I personally believe that taylor got scared because we know how important being liked is to her (I don’t wanna sound too invasive or parasocial 😭) but the sudden switch from colorful to black, the gay pride buildup just for nothing, and miss americana being a…political documentary.

Going from this

To this

We could see how anxious she was from The Archer

“I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost, the room is on fire, invisible smoke, and all of my heroes die all alone, help me hold onto you”

“Combat, I’m ready for combat”

ALL of evermore (the song). I think that song is about the failed coming out 100%

“I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone, tryna find the one where I went wrong”

“I rewind that tape but all it does is pause, on the very moment all was lost”

The whole bridge is so failed coming out coded

And when I was shipwrecked I thought of you (the coming out) In the cracks of light I dreamed of you (the coming out) to be certain we'll be tall again (that she’ll get back up) It was real enough (it was gonna happen, it wasn’t just an idea) To get me through (the knowledge that she would one day come out was enough) But I swear You were there. (Maybe she’s talking to karlie, maybe she’s talking to fans, maybe she’s re assuring herself that it was a plan and she didn’t make it up or something)

I think maybe after that taylor fell into a dark spot. I’m trying really hard not to be weird and invasive but based on songs, her graduation speech, and Taylor always having lots of drinks at any gathering, I think she might’ve become too fond of alcohol? I wouldn’t say this if This Is Me Trying didnt exist. And also:

“I’m fine with my spite, and my tears and my beers and my candles”

“I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone”

Again, really don’t wanna get too invasive but I think she might’ve cheated on karlie, as maybe an act if self sabotage, a common theme in her music.

“Why'd I have to break what I love so much?It's on your face, and I'm to blame, I need to say Hey It's all me in my head I'm the one who burned us down But it's not what I meant Sorry that I hurt you”

“I thought you were leading me on I packed my bags, left Cornelia Street Before you even knew I was gone”

“I broke his heart 'cause he was nice He was sunshine, I was midnight rain He wanted it comfortable I wanted that pain”

All themes of self sabotage, so maybe she cheated on karlie.

or the failed plan drove a wedge between them, and that’s when Taylor cheated. I think that’s where the folklore triangle comes from. I think karlie broke up with her after finding out. And then we get folklore and evermore

anyway that’s just my own thoughts lmk urs!

[scribblesbyavi]

Can you survive a haunted house?

The question is not if I would just stare at it from the woods or actually enter it, the question is if I would choose to spend the night or escape for days in a row…

I'm a haunted house,

a ghost lives in me and sometimes it doesn't.

It's dark, so much that nothing can be found easily.

It's messy! It's dusty!

Every small thing is stored carefully even when it shouldn't be!

I've always been fascinated by haunted houses and would love to stay in one. It would be cool and spooky! No one would ever visit me there. No nonsense from stupid people, only silence and chills from the ghostly energy. I can lit scented candles all around the house and play board games with them. At least the ghosts will be more predictable than the humans.

After walking through the whole place I’ll finally go upstairs to the library.

I'm reading a book in the library and one after another book falls from the shelf.

May be some of the ghosts had wishes and dreams they couldn't complete in their mortal life.

May be they are still here because sometimes people die but not their dreams.

Their wishes might have been so strong that they kept them back as souls until they are able to find peace.

May be they need some more time here before they can leave.

Souls need to heal before they can leave this world for the other.

The mortal body is dead, buried, decomposed or burnt to ashes but the soul has suffered too. Where will it go? It’s pure energy…

May be the books that fell on the floor, that's not just to scare me.

May be they are trying to communicate,

tell me the stories from decades and centuries ago.

The Myths. The Truths.

The kind of secrets and mysteries being guarded by the walls.

But haunted house shows flashbacks.

Flashbacks she gets:

You know abuse, childhood traumas, I have many flashbacks of them. But still I have love. People are so stupid to not hate a person that should be hated. Many times, almost everyone who hasn't faced anything like this says that why do people return to their abusers, well, let me answer you. Because, we love them and hate ourselves, because we trust (believe) them and not ourselves. Because we are scared of ourselves, of them and everyone around us, but we still feel the safest place is where they are. We return and we just don't know what we're giving ourselves and that we won't forgive ourselves for that. We'll regret and we'll still feel we are guilty, People who face it get them.

When I was only nine, I saw the first murder. A murder in front of my eyes. And, who killed him was the one who was supposed to take care of him. I was six(class 1) when I saw dead body, mysteries, tears, when I heard screams, cries of people who'll never laugh again, screams of people who lost their loved ones, and I saw some really silent people who'll never laugh again.

These flashbacks can take a toll on us, make us feel everything all over again. They can drain us mentally and physically. Run again and again inside our heads. We stop loving ourselves, make wrong decisions and stop caring about everything else.

We enter the worst phase of our life and the darkness drags us in to the depths.

Heart is a haunted house.

And I'm neither a human nor a ghost.

I'm not a mix up of angel and devil in one soul as poets say, I don't know what I am, but I know what I'm not! I'm not a ghost. I'm not dead spirit. I'm not a dead body, I'm not a person who still stayed alive because he wished to fulfil his dream. I'm not a ghost.

And if you are able to see beyond me, you'll keep finding flashbacks!!!

But before you even step in it, let me tell you again,

I'm not a human nor a ghost, I'm a haunted house.

Full of darkness, mysteries, stories and shadows.

Every love story ended with death in me.

Everyone died, in the end.

But all along, there's something about the haunted house.

I'll tell you stories, if you want to keep listening to me and I'll tell you what happened when you weren't around.

I'll make you hear the screams, and if you don't find them scary,

then know that I'm trying to communicate with you.

My heart guards mysteries that are scary even for me, but they won't haunt you if I cry.

I'll laugh and you'll get scared with the loud sound.

They say, heart is a rebel that's why ribs are cages, but haunted house says heart is a wall that guards things that should be guarded and it guards even those that shouldn't be.

You know it's a MUSEUM.

The heart is a museum of stories and expectations!

Heart is the place where books we read become the parts of our lives, they're no more just books. Heart has lived them even if they didn't happen to us,

you will ask how?

It's a haunted house babe!

Excerpts from an Avis-Ajooba conversation. ✨

For the source material: Post 1 Post 2

Read the tale of turbulent waters.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Riding (6) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

a different kind of birthday present (ao3) - Lizzyboo

Summary: “Just sit back and relax, birthday boy, I got you,”

(birthday sex, lots and lots of birthday sex)

Dan the Personal Assistant (ao3) - blissedoutphil

Summary: Dan has to submit an application video to be an assistant for a company President, Mr. Lester. But what happens when he accidentally sends a wrong video?

Dream Lover (ao3) - howellesterfics

Summary: Dan moves into his new dorm and he and Phil try out the new bed

first night away (ao3) - iihappydaysii

Summary: dan and phil enjoy each other on their first night away. (inspired by their late night instastories.)

Happy Christmas, Daddy (ao3) - MaeTaurus

Summary: A few days before Christmas Dan finds himself tipsy, lonely, and horny. He creates a Tinder profile where he meets Michael, a nice guy who enjoys bossing Dan around and giving him various tasks to do for him. But who is Michael? And what happens when both Dan and Phil's family Christmases are canceled?

I’ll Be The First To Blow Your Mind (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: After hooking up at the club, Phil invites Dan over to his flat. Dan, of course, says yes.

Immortality (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Phil was suddenly immortal with a thirst for Dan's blood.

When Dan finds out the truth he wants Phil to change him, but Phil doesn't think he can take Dan's life away like that. His life was just too precious and beautiful, but an eternity with Dan did make him reconsider.

King of Erotic Massages (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: Phil is too stressed, Dan decides to give him a hand... among other things.

Love me (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Dan is cute and he knows it, and he really wants his boyfriends attention. So he decides to annoy Phil until he gets what he wants.

....

Dan loudly clears his throat, “Um excuse me? Yeah your cute boyfriend is right here and asking for attention.” He over-dramatically gestures to himself.

Lovestruck (Be the One to Take Me Home and Show Me the Sun) (ao3) - Emejig16

Summary: Dan has gone up north to visit Phil again. He meets and hangs out with some of Phil’s friends, before spending the some quality alone time with Phil back at his flat.

make a mess of you (ao3) - spaceandvinyls

Summary: 80s!phan songfic based on night prowler by ac/dc

Not Just Any Fan. (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: Dan and Phil meet for coffee and something more...

Not Just My Sexual Fantasy (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Written for a friend who wanted either Fluff or Smut focused around Neko-Dan in his Sexual Fantasy jumper.

on cloud nine (ao3) - outphan

Summary: Sometimes they have great sex. Sometimes they have not-so-great sex. Sometimes they have sex that accidentally gets live streamed to 12k people.

ride safe, wear a seatbelt (ao3) - angelmichelangelo

Summary: phil likes to be in control

skin on skin (ao3) - sadlybunny

Summary: It was subtle at first. Dan would grab Phil’s hands and hold them when they started to wander. He’d catch Phil’s lips in his when he tried to press them to Dan’s neck. Phil received the message eventually, and stopped trying to progress things altogether. It was odd. Dan was usually the one in their relationship to initiate sex in the first place. And it was especially odd for them to go so long without sex, or at least something quick. But two weeks was weird.

or... Dan gets a tattoo and is scared to show Phil.

Soft Kitten (ao3) - benotafraidofwriting

Summary: 'Soft.

That was the only word Phil could think of when describing Dan.

Dan, with his baby face and wide, brown eyes, his curly hair which always had some type of flower accessory perched in it, in his fluffy jumpers and cotton shirts in a rainbow of pastel colors.'

Tangled Up (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: It was hard for Dan and Phil to get any time alone while on tour. They were constantly being rushed through meet and greets or shoved to another hotel.

Luckily they could sometimes sneak away to the back of the tour bus and get all tangled up with each other.

To Live In Clover (ao3) - blissedoutphil

Summary: Dan needs to escape his hell life. Anthony has a rather extraordinary offer. But what does it entail for Dan?

aka an AU where Anthony is a sugar daddy to both Dan and Phil.

We need a really big bath (ao3) - Bbkkgg30

Summary: Dan just wants to cuddle with Phil in the bath, but the stupid hotel tub is too small. After a little bit of fun they finally get to have the cuddles they wanted.

We'll Be Okay (ao3) - analester

Summary: the fic where 2012!phil is struggling with dealing with the way 2012!dan’s treating him, and 2017!dan comes and comforts him

wind me up, watch me go (ao3) - silentdescant

Summary: Dan cleans out their sex toy collection and Phil makes plans for using one.

you love it (how I move) (ao3) - i_am_my_opheliac

Summary: You can’t help but smile, the sound of his begging like music to your ears.

--

Inspired by God is a woman - Ariana Grande