#when I’ll come back for real I’ll reblog lots of stuff

[ddejavvu]

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

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

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

WC: 16.1K / navigation / inbox

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

“-visit?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

You hope more than anything that promise stays true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If you’re able to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His gifts!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“What is it, baby doll?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s-”

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

“Thanks, babe,” You can hear the grin in his voice, “Is my mom still with you?”

“No, she’s driving herself,” You merge lanes, brain on autopilot as you head for the motel, “And don’t ask what we’re doing, it’s a surprise.”

He scoffs; you’ve caught him, “Fine. They gave me lunch. It’s the same as yesterday.”

“Poor baby,” You coo, feeling more at home in Bradley’s Bronco than you had in your half-empty house, “I’ll make you something good for breakfast tomorrow, baby. Eggs, pancakes, waffles, sausage, bacon, fruit, whatever you want to eat.”

He takes a pause, then, “I have something inappropriate to say. But your dad’s still here, so I can’t.”

You let out a bark of bewildered laughter, especially when you can hear your dad’s voice in the background as he groans.

“I get the idea,” You promise him, and you hear Bradley huff a soft laugh into the speaker. You almost want to record the call, just to keep the sound forever.

“When are you guys coming back?”

“I don’t know, Brad,” You lament, tailing Carole as she heads for the freeway exit, “Hopefully before dinner. But if not, I’ll definitely be there when you get discharged, and I can drive you home.”

“And we can shower,” Bradley adds on to your sentence, eliciting another disgruntled sound from your dad, “And sleep.”

“And we can shower and sleep,” You promise, chest feeling light at the night’s plan. You’re pulling into the motel parking lot now, the dingy sign colored more in spiderwebs than in neon.

“I’ve gotta go, Brad.” You put the car in park, grabbing your phone and switching speaker off, “I love you. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He’s hesitant to answer, and you wish you didn’t have to hang up. You know he’s still uneasy about the way that your talk ended earlier, but he finally speaks up, “Alright. Love you, too.”

“So much,” You hum, “Love you so much.”

“So much,” He agrees, more of that audible grin in his voice, “See you later, angel.”

“See ‘ya,” You hum, and it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would to hang up, not after that.

Carole’s standing ready at the strip of doors, and you pull the small, rusty key out of your pocket. There’s nearly ten boxes stacked in your room, and you prop the door open with one as you gather anything that isn’t packed away.

You haven’t changed clothes much since being there, nor have you been keeping up with your hygiene as well as you should be, so the clean-up process feels like a day's worth, not two week’s worth. But you’re thankful for the easy pickup as you load it into a half-empty box, hauling it out the door and to the Bronco.

Packing the boxes goes fast when you work with Carole. It had been much more of a struggle to cart two at a time from your place to the motel room, but with a little maneuvering, all nine boxes fit snugly between her car and yours.

“Alright,” You dust off your hands, picking at the edge of your nail, “You ready?”

“Actually, you go home,” She decides, “And I’ll go to the party supply store. I’ll pick up some ‘Welcome Home’ stuff, and when I get back I’ll help you with the rest of the boxes, and we can set up together.”

“Perfect,” You heave a sigh of relief, “Thanks, Carole.”

“Of course, baby!” She seems to have a never-ending supply of optimism, one that you’re thankful for because you seem to harbor the opposite.

Hauling your boxes back into the house is unexpectedly the easy part. What’s harder is putting everything back, filling in the gaps in the bookshelf with your own volumes, stuffing the dresser with the clothes you’d chosen to take with you.

When Carole gets back you’re dragging your thumb over the shirt you’d taken off of your pillow, ready to fold it and destroy the evidence of its association with your two-week disappearance. She peeks into the bedroom, expecting to find you hard at work organizing your novels, and instead sees you sitting on the bed looking like you’re going to puke.

“Baby,” She hums, “What’s the matter?”

“He put this over my pillow,” You sniffle, staring down forlornly at the object that had offered comfort to Bradley when you hadn’t, “He slept with it.”

“Oh, baby,” Carole whispers, standing behind you and rubbing your shoulders, “He loves you. Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you think it means everything’ll turn out okay?”

“What if he doesn’t want me back?”

For the first time, you say it out loud. You’ve insinuated it, sure, thought about it, but you’ve never said it yet. Not out loud. You voice the fear that’s been bouncing around like a balloon in your head, popping it and feeling the aftershocks flow through you. 

She’s quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say any more than you do. But she bends down, wraps her arms around your shoulders and hums, “He will, baby. He’s been sleepin’ with your shirt this whole time, he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t miss you.”

“But even if he misses me, I still hurt him,” You sniffle, “I- I left, is missing me enough for him to want me back in his life? What if I went too far? What if we can’t come back from this? What if I lose him forever, Carole?”

“He kept my ring.” She murmurs, her voice the calm to your storm. 

“What?”

“He kept it. Even though it wasn’t on your finger, he didn’t give it back to me. And he wouldn’t dare give that to anyone else, Y/N. It’s your ring, he knows it. That’s why he kept it, ‘cause he still wanted you to have it. He loves you even if you did hurt him, baby,” She sniffles, and you feel bad that you’ve made her cry, “That’s what love is. Sometimes you hurt each other, but if it’s love you find your way back. And what you’ve got is the strongest love I’ve ever seen.”

Your silence is enough of a reply, and you’re glad because it’s all you can muster. You can’t find the words to thank her, to tell her you hope she’s right, to beg to whatever deity exists for mercy. All you can say is, “I don’t wanna take it off,” As you stroke a finger down the shirt over your pillow.

“Wear it,” She suggests, pulling at the sweatshirt you’re wearing, “Put that on underneath it, baby. He won’t notice, and you can have it on you as a reminder that he misses you. Maybe it’ll give you the courage to tell him.”

“Okay,” You sniff, a stray tear drying sticky on your cheek as you stand. She turns you around and pulls you into a real hug, and you let her squeeze you before going to the bathroom to change.

The shirt smells like Bradley now that he’s slept with it for two weeks. You’re sure you’re just immune to your own scent, and that he could still find traces of it to lull him to sleep at night, but wearing it now feels just as comforting as you bet it felt for him to sleep with it.

When you wander out of the bedroom you find Carole in the living room. She’s standing on your coffee table with her right leg, and her left is on the arm of the couch. She’s pinning a banner to the wall, ‘Welcome Home Bradley!’.

“Hey honey!” She beams at the sight of you in your shirt, you’d forgone the jacket to not overheat while moving things around. 

“Do you need help?” You watch her drive a pin into the wall with her thumb, and she shakes her head as she reaches down for another one, “No, I’ve got this. You just take care of your boxes, I can handle the party.”

“Yeah, you get the fun part,” You tease, and she laughs.

“Darlin’, I wasn’t the one to take my puzzles and run. Now go put ‘em back, I’m sure they’re the first things Brad’ll notice are missing when he gets home.”

You head back into the bedroom without any complaints. It’s hard to put everything back. No, it’s nice to put everything back. What’s hard is pretending it was never gone in the first place; what’s hard is lying.

You slide a lone book into its place on the shelf, one last spot left beside a photo album. Your fingers brush over a gemstone on the cover and you tug at the hefty spine, catching the jam-packed book before it can fall.

“Wow,” You breathe, barely aware that you’re speaking out loud. The cover showcases Bradley pressed up against the hospital’s nursery glass, peering in on a very sleepy baby you snoozing in her bassinet with Carole holding him up. You’d been born shortly after Bradley, not even a year, and he’d been very excited to meet his new best friend at the hospital.

A flip to the first page finds you in your dad’s old apartment, sleeping in your crib while Bradley’s hand wraps around the bars he’d pulled himself up on. Then the next page showcases a photo of him in the crib, curled up in the space by your feet while you sleep peacefully in your own spot.

You take the photo out of its sleeve, flipping it over to read the inscription you know by heart on the back: Bradley’s attached to Y/N at the hip. Won’t sleep anywhere else.

The next photos are more of the same. Bradley holding you on the couch, a gummy grin on his face at the baby in his arms. His hands barely bigger than yours, handing you a toy fighter jet. Tummy time on a play mat, where he’s holding a rattle just out of reach to get you to crawl like he’d seen your parents do. A shot of you tugging on his wispy hair, then a shot of Nick dragging a crying Bradley into his lap while your dad holds your previously clenched fist open. They tell their own story.

You’d been fated best friends from the start, but as you age in the photos, your relationship changes. All of a sudden there’s puppy love in your gaze when you reach your tween years, braces in your mouth and hearts in your eyes. There’s a picture of Bradley teaching you how to skateboard, and you're holding his hands for dear life. You distinctly remember a fiery flush to your cheeks in that moment, and you’re glad the camera hadn’t captured it. There’s New Year’s Eve in your matching pajamas, you cradled in Bradley’s arms like they’d make you pose every year since you’d come into the world. It was cute when you were kids, then it was embarrassing when you were teenagers, and now it’s cute again. In the photo you’re looking at you can’t be more than fourteen, and you know the second the shutter clicked on the camera, you’d scrambled out of his arms like they were burning you. 

You flip through more pages, watching your relationship blossom from friends into lovers. All of a sudden you’re holding hands, you’re matching outfits, and you’re kissing when you think no one is looking. Then there’s the famous picture of Bradley on his 18th birthday, glaring at the camera with a box of condoms in his hands, courtesy of his dad. Funnily enough, your dad shares Bradley’s expression in the background. The inscription on the back of that one reads: Just making sure he’s safe! Don’t want any grandkids, not while I’m still in my glory days - Goose.

That New Year’s Eve photo is special. It’s you still cradled in Bradley’s arms like always, but you’ve leaned up to kiss him, and he’s leaned down to kiss you. You distinctly remember it being the first time you’d willingly kissed on camera in front of your parents, and the giddy smiles you’d forced into makeshift puckers are clear as day in the photo. 

The matching pajama sets you’ve outgrown together are all stored in a box marked ‘sentimental’, not one that you’d taken with you when you’d left. You have a current pair, red and black buffalo print bottoms with fuzzy black tops, and you plan on asking Bradley to wear them tonight.

You haven’t noticed, but a smile has grown on your face, etching itself into your features as you relive your love story. You flip through family vacations, holidays, birthdays, sports games, barbecues, a million family events that Bradley joined you at. There’s never any of you apart, even though he’d been moved around for his career, because no one has ever thought to take a picture of one of you without the other. There’s no Y/N in this book, there’s no Bradley, there’s only Y/N and Bradley, and that’s what you want to be for the rest of your life. You want to fill out the rest of this book with aging photos, clearer in quality while the old ones yellow. You want to stuff this book until the bindings rip, you want to look back through it one day in a rocking chair beside one of Bradley’s own, faces wrinkled and hair grayed. Your story can’t end here.

Your phone buzzes on the bed, and you drop the photo album there while you check your message. No surprise, it’s from Bradley.

- The doctor signed off, I can go home after dinner, which shouldn’t be too much longer. How’s it going over there?

That’s great! You type back, biting a smile off of your face as you respond. It’s residual from looking through the photos, but you have to remember, you’re not there yet. It’s going good. Your mom is scary agile.

- What’s she doing?

Can’t tell you ;)

- Damn! Thought I had you there. Your dad’s eating one of my cookies :(

Tell him I said to leave you alone!

- He says you’re not the boss of him.

Tell him your mom said to leave you alone.

- He says she’s not the boss of him.

Tell your dad to tell him to leave you alone. She’s his boss.

- My dad’s eating one too :( 

Those assholes! I’ll make you more, baby ❤

- I love you best. ❤

I love you too baby ❤

The lingering fear of a breakup - a real one this time, one that doesn't rewind itself amidst burning jet fuel - is stuck in the back of your mind, and you suspect it will be until you finally confess. But the photo album and Bradley’s messages have combined to lift your spirits, and filing your shoes back into their places doesn’t weigh you down as much as you suspected it would. You try to make them look haphazard, jumbling them with Bradley’s and turning a few of them upside down. You two are notorious for having out of control shoe collections, Bradley’s sneakers and your own shoes constantly tumbling out of the closet like a cartoon.

 By the time the sun starts setting early on your California dream you’re nearly done, there’s just a few last garments to slip into your closet. You do so while wrestling with the clothes that are already in there, a hefty collection that leaves little room for the dress you’re trying to wedge inside. Nevertheless, a too-full closet is better than a half-empty one.

“Sugar?” Carole calls from down the hallway, hopefully not precariously balanced on any furniture this time, “Nick says they’re just serving Brad his dinner.”

You finally manage to set the clothes right on their hangers, panting slightly as you withdraw from the closet, “Okay! I’m almost done. We have a lot of clothes.”

She laughs, “Yes you do! You should eat somethin’ before we leave.”

“There’s no food here,” You sigh, “The fridge is empty. I’ll have to go shopping later. I’ll just stop for fast food on the way.”

“Party’s all set up,” Carole nods, jerking her head back towards the hallway, “If you keep the lights off in the living room tonight, he won’t see it until tomorrow.”

“Okay. Are you coming over to celebrate?”

“Yeah, I was thinkin’ for breakfast,” Carole nods, “We can bring food?”

You laugh huffily, “I wasn’t kidding about there being nothing in the fridge. Anything’s appreciated, thanks, Carole.”

“Anytime, baby,” She beams, but reconsiders with a slightly furrowed brow, “Although, I hope this is the only time.”

“Me too,” You scoff, “Alright, let’s head back.”

True to your word, you pull through a fast-food drive-thru on the way back to the hospital. Carole knows Nick’s order, and you know your dad’s, hopeful that they’ll be tired of hospital cuisine and yearning for a burger instead.

However, when you get there, they’re waiting in the lobby, Bradley sat between them. You hadn’t realized how early they were letting him out, and Carole takes the bag of food from you so that you can properly hug Bradley. He stands the moment he sees you, eyes pooling with such urgency as he tries to respect the no-running rule of the hospital. You struggle just the same, and the moment you’re within arms reach of each other, tears start flowing. Bradley yanks you into his chest, almost tipping you forwards and himself backwards with the momentum of his hug. His chin nestles straight over your shoulder, as does yours to his, and it’s the kind of hug you get from him after a long deployment, maybe even more desperate now. His breathing is ragged beside your ear, but not from his medical conditions, from the desperation clogging his lungs. His fist is tight in the back of your sweatshirt but the fabric is loose on you, and it’s not a tight enough hold for him. His fingers scrabble for the shirt beneath the hoodie, gripping onto both garments and keeping you closer than you ever thought you could be with Bradley. Your hands immediately encircle his shoulders, and your fingers find purchase against the baby hairs at the back of his neck. You scratch through the ones at his nape, hearing him sniffle sharply where his chin rests on your shoulder. The hand that isn’t fisted in your clothes is tight to your hip, gripping you so hard that you can feel his nails through the jeans you’re wearing. It’s not painful, it’s just firm, and its strength is reassuring. It’s grounding to hug Bradley again, unobscured by breathing tubes, hospital beds, or prying nurses.

You hear someone’s phone camera sound off, but you’re far from discouraging it. In fact, you’re going to ask whoever it was to send you the photo later. The hug turns into an embrace, one where you sway lightly from side to side, anything that isn’t you or Bradley fading into the background. Your eyes are screwed shut but tears still cascade down your cheeks, melancholy waterfalls that drip off of the curve of your chin and stain Bradley’s t-shirt. He’s dressed in what he’d been wearing beneath his flight suit, the material thankfully not ripped or burnt thanks to the coveralls. You take the lead, pulling back, but he keeps the same level of contact with you. When your chin slips from his shoulder he grabs your face instead, using it to keep you pressed tight to his body. His eyes are teary themselves, streaks of the shimmery stuff down his cheeks and probably in his mustache, too.

“Hi,” You croak, smiling giddily through your tears. 

He smiles, though the chubbing of his cheeks nudges a few more tears out of his eyes, “Hi.”

You smear them away with the palm of your hand, and use your thumb to rid him of the ones clinging to his undereyes. His hands are on your cheeks, too, and he tries mirroring your ministrations, but his thumbs are too shaky to do so. For fear of poking your eyes out, he clamps his hands over your cheeks again, content with holding you while your tears run over the hills and valleys of his fingers.

“You’re standing,” You marvel, ‘I thought you’d be in a wheelchair.”

“It hurts a little bit,” Bradley admits with a slight grimace, and you back away like you’ve been struck. He doesn’t let you get far at all, dropping your face to tug you back by your waist, “-but I’d rather break another rib than let you go.”

“Sap,” You accuse, and Bradley laughs.

His lips twist into a sheepish smile, “Maybe. You can be my tree. I’m stuck on you.”

You sniffle, brow furrowing, “Huh? ‘Cause of the sap thing?”

“Yeah,” He laughs, “Isn’t that what it means? Sticky and sweet like tree sap?”

“I don’t know,” You breathe bashfully, your voice rife with part confusion and part sheepishness, “I guess that makes sense. But I’ve never been called a tree before.”

“I’ll work on my flirting,” He promises, stroking his thumbs up and down your sides in soft, soothing motions, “Can we go home now?”

You nod, “You should hug your mom first.” Only then does Bradley remember that you’re not the only other person in the room, turning in your grip to see your mini crowd of adoring onlookers.

He chuckles, “Sorry. Hi, mom.”

“Hi baby,” She gushes, letting him squeeze her in a hug. He’s much more gentle with her, out of longing for you, not disrespect.

Nick reaches over to ruffle his hair and your dad nudges you sideways, “Happy to have him back?”

“Yeah,” You gush, a breathless whisper, “Nervous, though,” You admit, “What if he slips in the shower, or something? Or- or some freak accident happens and he doesn’t wake up?”

“He will,” Your dad slings an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you close by your shoulders, “He’ll be alright, kid. And hopefully by tomorrow he’ll remember everything, maybe look at some pictures tonight to jog his memory. Show him stuff you took of these past few weeks, the places you went or the food you ate.”

You don’t have any pictures of your pitiful motel room, nor the candy bars you’d raided the minifridge for, but you wouldn’t show them to Bradley if you did.

You nod, breaking away when Bradley searches for you after his hug with Carole, “Thanks, dad.”

“You gonna be okay getting settled tonight, Brad?” Nick asks, already bringing a french fry to his mouth from the bag in his hand. Your dad has your food as well as his own, and you take your bag back from him as Bradley nods.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. Thanks, guys.”

Everyone says their hasty goodbyes, and your hug with Carole lasts a second longer than you hope anyone notices.

“Tell him.” She whispers against your ear, the words a feather light breath, “He loves you.”

“I’ll feed you in the car,” Bradley grabs the bag of food from your hand when you nudge him towards the exit, “Can I have fries?”

“You’ve been on a diet of chicken and potatoes for two days,” You take the hand that he offers you, curling your fingers around his, “You can have the whole burger if you want, Brad.”

Bradley stops short in front of the bronco when he sees it, “There she is!”

“She’s here,” You laugh, “Perfect condition. The air freshener’s still good.”

“Poor baby,” He heads for the passenger’s seat, swiping a hand over the hood of the car on his way, “She probably thought we forgot about her.”

He settles comfortably in the passenger’s seat, though you’re sure it feels awkward to be there in his own car. He throws his head back against the seat and sighs, long and loud, a noise he would have made fun of his dad for making mere years ago.

“Comfy?” You glance sideways at him, your food in his lap while he rests against the seat. He nods, reaching for the bag as you start up the engine.

“Here baby,” He calls, popping two fries in front of your mouth just before you turn out of the parking lot, “Fries.”

You carefully bite them out of his hand, tipping your head back to get them fully into your mouth. You mumble ‘thanks’ through them, and you’re not sure if he can make out what you’re saying, but you hope it’s obvious.

“I can’t wait to get in bed,” He groans, “I know it’s only been a few days, but I can’t remember being there for three weeks.”

“It’s cold without you,” You hum forlornly, checking your blind spot before merging, your hands stiff on the wheel. Your words leave more of an aftertaste on your tongue than the fries do, and it’s an unpleasant one. They mean more than you let on, and your brain is clouded thick with the worry of sleeping in a cold bed for the rest of your life. 

There’s a moment of silence that Bradley lets follow your words, then he promises, “I’ll be there tonight. And every night after that.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Burger?”

He laughs, leaning in his seat when you turn, “Burger.”

He holds the food up to your mouth, letting you take a bite that smears sauce over your mouth. He takes a napkin, cleaning up after you and dabbing all of the mess away. You’re absolutely certain that if you weren’t on the road, he would have kissed it off. You make a mental note to eat just as messily when you get home, for experimental purposes.

“Can I have a bite?” He asks tentatively, and you turn at a red light to smile and nod.

“‘Course, Brad. I meant it, if you want it you can have the whole thing.”

“I don’t want you to go hungry,” He hums, taking a chunk to the left of your bite mark, “Thanks, babe. Fuck, that's good.”

“Did they finish your cookies?” You exit the freeway, muscle memory guiding you home.

Bradley speaks through a mouthful of burger, unpleasant to hear but somehow endearingly domestic, like he’s not worried about looking handsome for you. “Yeah. I got one more, but they mowed through the rest.”

“Those bitches,” You hiss, and he laughs, “Okay, we’ll bake tomorrow. But I’m keeping the vanilla away from you.”

He scoffs, “Always with the vanilla. I drank it one time!”

“One time is enough for a lifetime ban!” You insist, turning onto your street, “Okay, you shower and I’ll eat, then we can get into bed.”

“Sounds good,” He drawls, stuffing your food back into its bag and swapping it to you for the keys, “I’ll be quick in the shower.”

“No rush,” You croon, holding the hand that he offers you as you take on the front walkway together, “Don’t hurt yourself because you’re too eager to get into bed. It’ll be there even if you take your time.”

You’re bound for the kitchen and Bradley the bedroom, but you remember you have to keep the lights off so that he doesn’t see your decorations. You send him off with a kiss at the hallway, intent on watching him leave before setting up at the table.

“Goodbye,” You hum, standing with your lips puckered in the doorway of the hall, “If you need help, just yell for me.”

“Will do,” He nods, puckering his own lips and pressing them to yours with a cartoonish smack! You watch his ginger walk towards the bedroom, his hips off balance as his ribs ache in his chest.

Once you’re in the clear you flick the kitchen light on, choosing to stand at the counter instead of dirty the table. You busy yourself with your phone, tapping on an impatient text from Carole: ‘Have you told him yet?’

Not yet. You write back, munching on a french fry, Not in the car. He didn’t ask, either.

- Don’t lose your nerve, you can almost hear the critical tone of her voice just by reading her message, The longer you lie, the more he’ll worry about you.

I know. I’ll tell him.

- ❤️

“Babe?” You hear Bradley call over the stream of the shower, “Babe!”

You abandon the last few fries in the container, stuffing your phone into your pocket to rush to his aide. Horror flashes through your mind, visions of Bradley bleeding down the drain or hunched over in pain.

All you see when you burst into the bathroom is him looking like a puppy in the rain, a pitiful pout on his face as water runs down his face and through his mustache.

“I can’t wash my hair,” He laments, “It hurts.”

You can’t help but coo, “Oh, baby. Lemme help you.”

“Thanks,” He mumbles, “I already have the shampoo.”

True to his word, there’s shampoo smeared over his hands. Apparently he’d tried his best, but couldn’t move well enough with his broken ribs. You try not to laugh at his misfortune, especially because he’s in pain, but he’s just too cute to ignore. You try to muscle down the thought that this might be the last time you ever shower with Bradley, even if you’re not really in the water with him. You wet your hands, then wipe the shampoo off of his palms, reaching for his scalp.

“I’m sorry I’m making you stand in front of me naked and we’re not having sex,” Bradley huffs, “Believe me, if I thought I could, I’d be jumping you right about now.”

“It’s okay,” You chuckle, muffling the sound into Bradley’s forehead that you kiss chastely, “We should hold off on sex, at least until your ribs are healed.

Or until you know the truth.

“They don’t hurt too bad now,” Bradley muses, “But when I raised my arms to shampoo, it was really bad.”

“I’ll reach for things for you,” You promise, scrubbing shampoo into his scalp. It knocks loose leftover ash from his accident, and it flows down the drain in a swirl of gray bubbles.

“Oh, fuck,” For not having sex, Bradley’s making some awfully pornographic sounds, “That feels good.”

“I’ll bet,” you hum, “Can’t imagine having ash in my hair for that long.”

“It’s not pleasant. Oh god, babe,” He groans, “Hurry up and rinse it out, I’m gonna fall asleep standing up.”

“Okay! Okay,” You laugh, scrubbing in one last circle at the nape of his neck then reaching for the showerhead, “Have you washed your body already?”

“Yeah,” He murmurs, letting the water flow through his hair and rinse the shampoo out, “Oh my god, this is what heaven feels like.”

“Come on,” You smile, reaching for a towel, “Do you need help drying off?”

“You just wanna feel up my thighs,” Bradley accuses, and you laugh good-naturedly.

“Nope. Ass.” You admit, “But if you can do it yourself, then go ahead.”

“No!” He catches you as you stuff the towel to his chest, pulling you back towards the shower, “Uh, I need help. I think you should wipe down my very toned chest and my tight butt.”

“Oh, really? That’s what you’re having trouble with?” You snicker, and Bradley nods proudly.

“Yep. Can’t get my hands over my shredded back either, such a shame.”

“Alright, you flirt,” You scoff, “Turn around.”

You start on his back, and of course, it’s very fit. It’s nothing you haven’t touched before, in fact, you’re surprised there’s no scars there from your fingernails, but this is more intimate, more romantic, more sweet. This is love, not lust. You scrub the towel over his skin, wiping the water droplets away and rubbing into his tight muscles. You take extra care to dry off the small of his back, smoothing the towel down over his ass, too. Despite his earlier cheekiness, he doesn’t make any comments while you’re working. You wrap the towel around his thighs, pressing a kiss to his hip as you bend down to dry his calves off. He stands still to let you get his ankles dry, and you tap his foot to turn him around.

Now he’s looking down at you as you towel off his calves again, getting any splotches of water you may have missed before. You dry out the soft tuft of hair at his groin and move to his chest before you can tempt yourself, not wanting your first sexual encounter after a life-threatening plane crash to be a blowjob up against the shower wall. Especially not before you tell him the truth.

Now that you’re on your feet you’re face-to-face, though yours is bent slightly to track any water droplets you might have missed on his shoulders. You towel off his underarms carefully, making sure not to aggravate his muscles that are already bleeding pain through his gut. You swipe the towel over his neck, and in doing so, you’ve set your hand just below his chin. It’s as natural as breathing to slide it up his jaw, and he’s already staring at you, breath shaky as you return his gaze.

He moves first, but you take his cue right away. He leans in to kiss you and you’re happy to press your mouth to his own, not caring that there’s a drop of water leftover between his fingers that transfers to your skin when he cups your face.

“Baby,” He whimpers, desperate and longing, “I- I missed you.”

There’s tears beading at the corners of his eyes, and you manage a sad smile when you wipe them away, “Why, silly? I was only gone for a few hours.”

“I know. I just- I’m real shaken up,” He admits, “I- I don’t even remember the crash and that’s the scary part. I almost died and I’ve got no clue what happened. I feel lost, like- like I’m still stalling or something, just waiting to crash.”

“I’m so sorry,” You croon through your own tears, “Brad, that must be so scary, I- I can’t even imagine.”

“I just need you,” He breathes, clutching at your shoulders like they’ll recover his plane, “Just don’t leave, please.”

“Sweetheart,” You coo, equally endeared and saddened by his sudden panic, “We're not at the hospital anymore, there's no visiting hours. Why would I leave? We're home, we’re gonna get changed, and then we’re gonna go to sleep. You’re safe now, okay?”

“Okay,” He nods, voice a mere whisper, “Okay, let’s sleep.”

“Clothes first,” You remind him through a cheeky grin, and the expression scrunches your tear-stained cheeks, cracking the stiffened substance, “We’re sleeping.”

“Alright, alright,” He laughs as you poke at his bare chest, “Will you help me? I managed to bend over and slide my t-shirt off but I don’t think putting something on will be as easy.”

“Mhm. I was hoping,” You reach for the sets of matching pajamas, holding them up enticingly, “You’d match with me?”

He laughs, the sound thick and genuine in his bruised chest, “Of course. I won’t look as good as you, though.”

“Yeah, my mustache is better,” You sigh, scratching a nail over your upper lip that’s morphing into a grin. You whirl on him with his shirt, helping ease his arms into the fabric and stretching the neck hole over his head so that he doesn’t have to bend down. All in all, it works, even if the neckline is a little stretched. He doesn’t need help with his pants, but you feel compelled to do it anyways, sliding his boxers and then the soft material up his legs and tying it tight at the waistband.

“Thanks, honey.” He murmurs, bending at the waist and sitting on his side of the bed, “Fuck, that’s nice.”

“Lay down,” You push against his chest, helping him recline against his pillows, “I’ll be right back, B.”

You change quickly, too eager to crawl into bed beside Bradley to care that you’ve left one bite of burger and a few lone fries on the counter. Ants be damned, you’ll clean up tomorrow. When you emerge from the closet you wriggle happily beneath the covers next to Bradley, flicking the light by the doorway off so that all that’s left is your bedside lamp.

When you settle on your pillow he’s already looking at you, and the tip of his nose bumps your own. You melt into a girlish giggle, something that a teenager would produce after a particularly bad pickup line and a single red rose.

“Hi,” You gush, overjoyed to have him so close again. You kiss his nose in your fervent enthusiasm, and he smiles sleepily against his pillow.

“Hi,” He hums, reaching for your waist and pulling you close, “C’mere.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” You stiffen, but he molds your body to his anyways, “Brad, be careful.”

“I will be! I said it before, you can’t break me. Just let me hold you.”

You croon a sad sound as he wraps you in his arms, a sound of longing, of adoration, of grief. He clocks it as sweetness, though, and holds you close. Your face is buried in his chest and you feel his lips move against your scalp when he speaks.

“Y/N,” He starts, and your heart rate spikes at just your name, “About earlier-”

“Tomorrow.” You blurt, anguish rising in your chest, “Brad, can we- can we talk tomorrow? I’m not trying to hide from you,” You promise, but you’re nestled into his chest and muffling your voice, “I trust you with the way that I'm feeling, I just- I just want to sleep. I want to breathe for a minute. And we can talk tomorrow, is that okay?”

He takes a moment to deliberate, really, truly thinking about it. While he does so, your hands tighten in his shirt, desperately clinging to him. But eventually he nods, disjointedly so into the crown of your head, “Okay.” His hands tighten around your waist as he speaks, and you melt into his embrace, scooting impossibly closer. “Okay, honey, we’ll talk tomorrow. Let’s just sleep.”

Settling into his embrace has never been so easy. Since the moment you'd been in them for the first time only hours old in the hospital, you’d known his arms were made for holding you. They’ve been yours for as long as you can remember, even longer than that according to the photo album you’d skimmed through earlier. Bradley had been the third person to hold you, second only to your parents. Sure, he couldn’t remember it either, and Nick and Carole were probably doing most of the work keeping you balanced in his little lap, but the point is, he was made for holding you, and you were made for being held by him. Your face tucks so naturally under the curve of his chin and your lips press even easier to his throat, kissing at his voice that you love so much. It comes out to thank you for the adoration in a gentle hum, one that thrums against your lips. 

His hands revel in their access to the extent of your back, brushing and roving and stroking over every inch of the space he’s granted. It’s ticklish but you don’t dare squirm, letting his fingers send miniscule bolts of electricity through your skin.

“I love you,” He reminds you as he holds you close, the sleepiness fogging his brain clear as day in his voice, “I really, really do.”

“I love you too, Bradley.” You promise, kissing up his chin to his lips. The pecks you plant there are short, sweet, and chaste, but when you’re done laying them over his face you decide that you want to fall asleep facing him, not hidden away in his chest. Sure, it’s warm and safe there, but you can’t drift off to his sweet face if you can’t see it.

Your solution is to plop your head back onto your pillow, throwing a leg over his waist to keep yourself close. His eyes are droopy, and hold all of the tender sweetness of the puppies he so often resembles. He’s clearly exhausted, and your own eyes slip shut at the sight of his struggling to stay open.

“Night, Brad.” You yawn, settling against your pillow with the tip of your nose brushing his own, “Welcome home.”

“Night, baby. Love you,” He gushes, as if you hadn’t just exchanged the words seconds prior. But it feels good, it feels right, so you say it back.

“Love you, too.” You use the last of your energy to reciprocate, sleep taking hold of you in its comforting embrace. You slip away like sand into unconsciousness, all of your thoughts about love, and life, and Bradley, and none of the horrific possibility of his memories returning. Nothing’s going to ruin this moment for you, not now.

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

[winchesterwild78]

The PE Teacher

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: mention of alcohol and death of a parent. Nothing bad.

A/N: This was an idea given to me by @jackles010378. Dean is a newly hired PE teacher at the school you teach at. He isn’t a hunter and Sammy is a lawyer. You’re a Kindergarten teacher and you take a liking to the new staff member. Does he feel the same? This will be a few chapters.

This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. I don’t own the rights to any of these characters.

Does not follow the Supernatural Timeline.

Written fast and not edited well. Please overlook any errors.

Reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated.

Please don’t take my work and use it as your own or on any other platform.

Minors DNI 18+

It was late August and teachers were returning to work. You walked in with your bag in hand ready for another school year.

You were excited and a little nervous. You knew there would be so many new staff members this year.

Walking in you greeted some colleagues and then you stopped by the office to get your keys.

“Hey, Y/N, how was your summer?” Ms Smith the secretary asked. “Hey. It was great. I did a lot of reading and some relaxing. How was yours?”

“It was good. My daughter got married.” “Oh that’s exciting. I can’t wait to see the pictures.”

She smiled and handed you your keys. “Have a great day, Y/N.” I smiled and said “you too.”

I walked out of the office and headed towards my classroom. I opened the door and took a deep breath. Getting the room ready was hard and time consuming. I was ready to get started.

I heard a squeal behind me and turned to see one of my teammates coming down the hall.

“Y/N!! I missed you so much.” She dropped her stuff and hugged me. I laughed, “Me too. Are you ready for this? We have the welcome back meeting in about fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be there. I can’t wait to meet all the new staff. I heard the new PE teacher is a total babe.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “I’ll see you soon. Save me a seat.” She nodded and went into her room.

About fifteen minutes later I was sitting beside Karie and Tiffany in the welcome meeting.

Staff were coming in and greeting everyone. The new staff tried to slip in, but Karie, Tiffany and I greeted them all with a big smile and welcome.

Right before the meeting started I looked over and sitting near the door was a teacher I’d never seen before.

He was tall, bow legs, very handsome, sandy brown hair and piercing green eyes. My breath hitched.

Karie leaned over, “Y/N, I think that’s the new PE teacher.” He was talking to someone and when he laughed his head went back and he used his whole body to laugh. I couldn’t help but smile.

He looked over at me and our eyes met. A red hue filled my face and he smiled. I bit my lip.

The principal said it was time to make staff introductions. He started calling out grade levels. When he got to Kindergarten the three of us stood, introduced ourselves and Karie decided to announce that I was still single.

I looked over at the new teacher and he smirked.

Next was his turn. He stood and introduced himself, “Hi. I’m Dean Winchester and I’m the new PE teacher. I’m also still single.” He winked at me.

I wanted to crawl under the table and hide. Karie elbowed me and giggled.

Later in the day we were working in our classrooms. I had my hair in a messy bun and music playing.

As I cleaned and unpacked I sang and danced. There was a chuckle and a knock coming from my door. I spun around and saw Dean standing there.

I jumped and turned off the music. “Don’t stop on my account, sweetheart.” I chuckled, “Hey Mr Winchester. Do you need anything?”

He stepped in the room, “Dean, please call me Dean and yeah. I wanted to apologize and tell you I hope I didn’t embarrass you earlier.”

“No, Karie has a big mouth. She does this every year. Her and Tiffany are married with kids so she’s trying to marry me off.” I laughed.

“Well, at least you know she cares.” “Oh yeah, I know how much she cares.” I laughed.

“Well, Y/N, I’ll let you get back to work. You know where I am if you need anything.” I nodded, “Thank you, you too.”

The next month of school flew by. My students were doing great and loved going to PE.

The single moms and teachers took a liking to Dean. I did my best to maintain professional behavior, but damn was it hard.

Every flirt, giggle and soft touch that came Dean’s way he politely declined. I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous with all the women that threw themselves at him.

It was Friday and I was working late in my room. Most of the teachers and staff had already left for the night.

I didn’t want to stay late, but I had some things I needed to take care of.

I was sitting at my desk working when I heard a knock on my door. I looked up and saw Dean. He was dressed in jeans and a dark green Henley. Damn he looked good.

“Hey Dean. I didn’t know you were still here.”

“Yeah. I was about to head out and noticed your car was still here. You seem to be the last one here and I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Oh wow, I didn’t realize it was so late. I appreciate you coming back, but you don’t have to stay. I’ll be okay.”

Dean furrowed his brow, “Nope. My mom would kick my ass if I let a woman walk in a dark parking lot alone. I don’t mind. I was just going to grab some food and a drink, so I have no plans.” He chuckled.

“Okay, well I’m almost done. I appreciate it. Thank you, Dean.” He nodded and I continued working.

God look at him. He’s normally dressed in his PE clothes, shirt and red shorts, knee high socks, sneakers and his whistle that hangs around his neck. He looks so amazing in jeans and that shirt. It fits just snug enough to show off his pecks.

I don’t realize I’m staring until I look up and we make eye contact. I cleared my throat, “Sorry.”

“No problem, darlin’. I like what I see too.”

I bit my lip and turned to pack up. Dean and I walked towards the front of the school making small talk.

He walked me to my car and I thanked him.

“Hey, Y/N. Would it be too forward if I asked you to dinner and maybe out for drinks?”

I smiled softly, “No it wouldn’t be. I’d like that very much.”

He took my hand in his, “Great, I’ll meet you at O’Malley’s.”

I nodded and climbed in my car. The whole way there, my heart hammered in my chest.

Arriving at the bar I saw Dean standing leaning against his car. It was a gorgeous, sleek, black 1967 Chevy Impala.

I got out and he pushed off his car smiling.

“Wow, Dean. Your car is beautiful.” He grinned, “Thanks. She’s my baby.”

I nodded and smiled. “Shall we?” He nodded and placed his hand on the small of my back and led me in, opening the door for me.

We took our seats and ordered food and drinks. Dean and I talked for most of the time.

I learned he had a baby brother, Sammy. Who is a lawyer and married with a little boy. He’s never been married, he loves his car, and his parents are still married.

The way his eyes lit up when he talked about his family made my heart melt. He clearly loves his family and they are a priority to him.

I told him about my family and how I lost my mother a few years ago. The pain I saw in his eyes was genuine. He softly touched my hand, “I’m so sorry about your mom. She sounded like a wonderful woman.”

His touch made me smile. As the evening progressed we slipped into comfortable conversation. At one point Dean asked me to dance.

The songs ranged from fast to slow and romantic. His hands gripped my hips tightly as he pulled my body close to his. I rested my head on his chest and I heard the steady beat of his heart.

His smell was intoxicating. Dean lifted my chin and looked in my eyes. His face leaned closer to mine.

I leaned closer and our lips ghosted against each other. When our lips connected every noise around us faded away.

The kiss was soft and then turned needy and passionate. His hands slipped up my back and into my hair, pulling me closer.

When we pulled apart our chests were rising and falling, pulling air into our lungs.

We walked off the dance floor holding hands. Dean looked at the time, “I guess we should head out. Especially since you have that thing tomorrow with Karie and Tiffany.” I nodded but I didn’t want the night to end.

We walked towards our cars and he placed a soft kiss on my lips again. “I had a really great time tonight with you.” “I did too, Dean. I’d like to see you again if you want.”

Dean stepped closer, “I’d like that very much. Good night, Y/N.” I smiled and a red hue filled my cheeks, “Good night, Dean.”

One last kiss was shared between us and I climbed in my car. As I drove away all I could think about was how it felt to kiss the PE Teacher.

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[katareyoudrilling]

The Sweepstakes: Frankie Morales Epilogue (Porn Star AU)

Series: The Sweepstakes

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Porn star Female reader

Summary: You texted Frankie after your evening together, but what happened next?

Word count: ~600

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: descriptions of sex acts

A/N: This follows the events of The Sweepstakes: Frankie Morales so be sure to read that first!  I did the most minimal of research for this, so please forgive any inaccuracies.  I have been overwhelmed (in the best way) by the response to Sweepstakes Frankie.  I hope what I’ve imagine here does him justice.  Enjoy!

Reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist – link in my bio or ask me to add you!

“Frankie! Come see this!” you exclaim from the bedroom.

“What is it?” Frankie comes in, running a towel through his shower-damp hair, wearing just his worn blue jeans.  You take in the view of his soft tummy and bare feet, momentarily distracted from the news you called him in to share.

You just had him in your bed less than an hour ago, but you’d gladly have him back again.  You shake your head to clear the distracting thoughts.

“Right. I was just uploading today’s video when I saw that we hit 1,000 subscribers!”

“What? Really? That sounds like a lot.”  He sits down next to you on the bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip and bumping your knee against his side.  His fresh, clean scent wafts over you and you have to resist the urge to snuggle into his warm skin.

“It is a lot,” you beam at him, and he returns your smile with a lopsided grin of his own. “We’ll be making real money soon.”

It had been after another fun and satisfying fuck with your favorite civilian that you had pitched Frankie the idea of starting an OnlyFans with you.

The way you saw it, there was an untapped market for soft, brown-eyed men, who gave amazing head.  Your rapidly rising subscriber numbers are proving your hunch to be correct.

Frankie had thought it over, but he said it was ultimately a pretty easy decision.  Why not try to earn a little extra money doing something he loved?

You called your channel “The Pussy Eating King”

Your signature videos were first person POVs of him eating you out.  Sometimes he looked directly down the camera with those soulful eyes.  Others, he closed them to get completely lost in the pleasure of your cunt.  It was devastating… in the best way.  And the viewership numbers agreed.

Second to those, were the videos you filmed from between Frankie’s legs, looking up at him while you stroked his gorgeous cock until he came.  His disheveled curls and pink cheeks are the stuff dreams are made of.

Dirty dreams.

Dreams you wake up needy and desperate from.

It would be selfish to keep that view just for yourself.

“I think we should celebrate,” Frankie muses, pulling on his t-shirt and running his fingers through his messy curls.  “Can I take you on a date?”

“A date?” Your pulse pounds in your ears.  Sure, you have sex with Frankie on a regular basis.  You have sex with a lot of people.  Sure, you often wind up spending the day in bed with him just talking, but being with him in public? With clothes on?

Frankie senses your hesitation.  “It doesn’t have to change anything.  I just really like you and want to spend time with you.”

“I… ok,” you hear yourself answer.

“Great, I’ll pick you up at 8.”  Frankie kisses the top of your head and makes his way out of your apartment, picking up his hat as he goes.  Before he closes the door, he turns and winks.

- - - - - - - - - 

Later that night, Frankie takes your hand as you walk down the sidewalk.  He twines his fingers with yours in a way that feels more intimate than anything you’ve done in the bedroom.

He said nothing would change, but things always change.

For the first time in a long time, you wonder if maybe that isn’t a bad thing.

- - - - - - - - - -

A/N: If these types of videos exist, please let me know…

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist – in reblog

[bigender-cowboy]

im gonna tag most of my mutuals in this one-

This blog is going semi-inactive for a while!

I have a lot of serious real life matters going on and stuff. I’m currently also going to turn my asks off, so if you need anything you can reblog this post or message me.

On that note, I am still going to occasionally reblog and post art (birthday art coming up soon, it was my birthday 9/11) and I’ll still probably respond to tags. Hell, there are days where I probably will be fully active. Im just letting everyone know im not fully active right now. I’ll come back soon enough though!

@geckothegecko @windblown-cecilia @stardoodledust35 @staring-at-the-mirror-vanity @crowberryowox3 @radkatzzstuff @fanface @spidernolr @lynxskip

(on a side note, since you send those daily asks, can I let you know when im back being active because those are really fun @jkl-fff )

[sparrowrye]

Announcements 📣

So there it is my little devils. 76 chapters and 7 months later, we have finished!

I have some unique shoutouts but stick around because there’s more info at the bottom!

@feral-fox-crypt / @wendigonamecaller - for being my first author friend! I know I’m not active on the discord but I’m still glad we made it together!

@jgabriel1920 - for your amazing villain OCs. Blackwater was by far my favorite villain I’ve ever written and creating lore for Judah/John was fun! Thanks for our plot development chats too :)

@soggyfern - for kickstarting the creative juices and brainstorming my next story with me!

@liz776 and @flamingoblubber - for your constant reblogs of my work. You’ve helped spread the word about my story!

@martinys-world, @papas-ghoulette, and @vvollerie - for your wonderful, steadfast comments!

@mcntsee @blubugg13 @serenity-songbird @az--zy @direbatattack and among the others who've already been @'d in this post - for your OCs who helped flesh out the story. I enjoyed the challenge of writing a character I didn't come up with!

Of course, can’t forget my anonymous 🥩 who was there to submit in depth thoughts about my work early on, giving me the courage and inspiration to keep going. Hope you enjoyed your meal :P

And most importantly, to the ~65 individuals who liked each of my posts. And especially to the ~16 who watched and waited for the climax parts to come out in real time. Without your likes, I would feel alone. Thank you for the support!

****and if I missed you, please message me! But I'm pretty sure I got everyone

———————————-

Now, sappy stuff aside.

I’m not done writing delicious Alastor works, BUT I do plan on making them significantly shorter than Demi Demon. I love novels but man, that was tough. I’m trying to focus more on longer chapters in fewer amounts. I’ve got work, my masters, friends, a side project, and my own WIP I’m trying to finish too!

At some point this week, you will get another announcement revealing the title, vibe, and summary of my next story. It’s currently being hammered and plotted so I’m going to wait to finalize everything before I let you know. My only hint: take a look at the results of all my polls

———————————

Lastly, I’m going to put this in a different post so people can always access it:

I. Want. Your. Opinion.

Specifically on Demi Demon.

I want to become a published author and I believe fanfiction is a way to play around and develop experience/skill for writing and storytelling. So I’m asking all of you to return the favor and submit an anonymous form where you’ll tell me your thoughts (good and bad) on Demi Demon.

When the post is up you can access it HERE

Also, keep checking my pinned post. I make small little changes every now and then :P

—————————-

Again, I’m so SO grateful for all of you. Your support, no matter how big or small, has truly helped me finish this novel. I was going through a lot these past months and your support helped me through some dark times. So thank you!!

Enjoy the peace as we transition stories because I’ll be back to make you love and cry all over again!

~ Sparrow

[menofchaos]

Coco

Part VI: His Eyes

Note: I’m not sure when I hit 1k followers but I wanna thank all of you from the bottom of my heart! Thank you for reading my stuff and loving these boys with me. In other news, I'm back with our favorite jailbird and her journey with our favorite sniper. If anyone wants more, please reblog, like, comment or let me know in my ask! I love hearing feedback on my stuff and talking about Coco ofc. Gif credit to the talented @thesewickedhands and divider credit to @spideyspeaches.

Part V

Coco,

I’m so sorry our visit got cut short. I was so fucking pissed. When I first got in here, I would cause trouble all the time. I don’t really have a life outside so I didn’t care if I got extra time. I haven’t really been rolling like that for a while because I’m fucking tired of doing time. I wanna drink and fuck and be outside. Do whatever I want, you know? But one of my bunkies allegedly got in a fight on the yard and the cops assumed I orchestrated it which is fucking stupid. They suspended my mail privileges “as a precaution.” Pendejos. You’re literally the only one I talk to. They just fuck with me when they can. We were just getting comfortable :( Hopefully those dickwads didn’t put you off to another visit? Or put you off me in general? I liked seeing you. Did you ever cut that girl off? How’s your daughter? I’m working on another tattoo for you. I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever and I don’t like it. 

Nyx

PS I miss those beautiful eyes

Nyx,

Ma I’m not gonna lie. I was worried. I’m glad you’re okay tho. COs are always shit. They definitely didn’t put me off you or another visit. I’ll check work tomorrow and let you know when I can come back. My first stint I felt the same way. No family who gives a fuck, friends who forget about you as soon as the cop car is around the block. When you get out, we’ll meet up and I’ll help you do all the things you missed. If you’re down. My kid is good, she thought it was so hilarious that I was worried. I don’t usually get worked up over women like that. I did cut the one chick off, sorta abandoned the whole roster now that I think about it. What are you drawing me now? I’m definitely missing watching you squirm from just looking at you. Be good so I can come back for a full visit.

Coco

PS and your drama ain’t a burden. I got you. 

Coco,

Your last letter made me feel more than my entire last relationship. Fuck. I’m good, I promise. All in one pretty little piece where you left me. Where do I even start? I believe you just offered to fuck me and the thought of your eyes during sex? I’m tingling. You were worried about me? Worked up about me? I have a feeling that doesn’t happen at all and that makes me happy. Because I don’t usually get attached easily either but I think I am. At least I feel it with you. I don’t wanna ruin this though, for once in my life. You’re saying all the right things which scares the shit out of me but in the way that makes me wanna keep going. Does that make sense? I might be rambling. I’m just happy that you’re still wanting to be around at all. You abandoned the roster?? How come? The new drawing is a surprise.

Nyx

PS you say that now. Wait till I fuck up.

Nyx,

You’re funny. Your ex really ain’t shit if one letter from me made you feel more than his whole time with you. But I like that. You really into my eyes baby? Cause I liked watching you. I’ll make you feel more than a tingle when I get my hands on you for real. You’re right, I don’t get attached. But you made a lot of sense because I felt like I was reading my own thoughts. I wanna be careful with this. With you. I’m not going anywhere. We just gotta go with it for now, see where it takes us. I got a brother who can teach you how to handle a tattoo machine if you wanna learn. Won’t treat you like a shitty apprentice or anything either. I checked my work schedule. Three weeks and I’ll be back. I promise. I didn’t abandon the roster on purpose. I guess I just got bored of them.

Coco

PS I fuck up too. So I get it.

Coco,

My ex definitely wasn’t shit. Storing my shit while I’m locked up is the nicest thing he ever did for me. Fuck, getting your hands on me? That’s what you’re gonna say to me? Remember tho, I told you no dude has ever got me off. I’m glad we’re on the same page about this. For once, it feels nice to give a fuck. Especially since I know you get me. I’ve always wanted to be a tattoo artist and learn how to tattoo the right way. I’ve done a few tattoos when I was locked up but that’s it. You don’t have to ask him if you don’t want to. I can figure something else out. THREE WEEKS?!!! :) I can’t wait. Can we hug this time? I wanna cop a feel ;)

Nyx

PS you always do.

Coco walked into the clubhouse, looking around quietly. Taza walked out from the bathroom, “Hermano,” he smiled, “You good?”

He nodded, “Yeah, man. You?”

Taza squeezed his shoulder, “All good. You looking for someone?”

“Hank?” he asked.

“He’s in the office,” Taza told him before heading to the bar.

Coco walked back outside, lighting a cigarette as he headed up to the office. When he opened the door, Hank was standing over Chucky’s shoulder with a stack of papers in his hand.

Chucky looked up and grinned, “Coco.”

Coco nodded, “Chucky. Hank.”

Hank glanced back at him through a pair of black rimmed glasses, “Bishop need me?”

“No, I uh…wanted to ask you something. Alone,” he added after a pause.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Hank said and turned his attention back to the computer.

Coco went back outside but stayed close to the building, hiding from the harsh sun. He listened to Hank and Chucky go back and forth, a fond smile on his face. The door pushed open to reveal Hank, glasses off and no papers.

“Sorry, this customer keeps calling in, wanting impossible shit. Next time he starts demanding, I’m telling him to deal or I’m gonna beat his ass,” he shook his head as he lit a cigarette, “What’s up?” 

“I just had a favor to ask,” Coco murmured, “I have this…friend. She’s a dope artist and she wants to learn to tattoo.”

Hank smiled, “Have her come in, I’ll teach her.”

Coco put out his cigarette, “She can’t yet. She’s uh…she’s serving time.”

“This the girl I keep hearing about from the other guys?” Hank asked, “Why you were so upset a while back?”

He glanced over Hank’s shoulder at Gilly and Angel, cracking jokes and fixing a bike together. He nodded, “Yeah, she wrote me again. She’s alright.”

Hank followed his gaze and looked back at Coco, “You like this girl?“

Coco was smiling before he realized it, “Yeah. I do.”

“Good for you,” he pat Coco’s back, “Bring her in when she gets out. Teach her everything I know.”

“Thanks man,” Coco smiled, “I appreciate it.”

Hank nodded and went back in the office.

Nyx,

Would you rather me hold your stuff? We can hug this visit. I wanna cop a feel too. I can’t wait to see you baby. I remember you telling me no guy has ever gotten you off, bet I’ll be the first. I’ll come pick you up when you get out. Get you some tequila, take you to a beach house and make you cum all night. Order room service for whatever food you want. Sound like a good first day? I did a few things and you’re probably not gonna like them because I know you don’t like asking for shit. But I did it anyway. My brother said he’s down to teach you to tattoo when you get out. I also put money on your books. Not a lot. Stop glaring at me, I can feel the dirty look from here. Trust me, it’s for a selfish reason.

Coco

PS I gotta head out of town for a minute so I probably won’t be able to respond to your next letter until after my next visit. 10 days.

Coco,

You did not just offer to hold my stuff for me. And you sent money! Why? You’re right, I don’t like asking for shit. I don’t deserve you. What’s the selfish reason? That description of a first day made my nipples hard. Can it be a private beach so we can spend the whole time naked? Also thank your brother for me. My bunkie and your brother (same one?) are planning on meeting when she gets out. She has way less time than me. I don’t think I could’ve waited that long, not with the way those eyes made me feel when I saw them the first time. Ride safe, come to the visit in one piece please. 

Nyx

PS you’ll get your new drawing at the visit! 5 days!!!

Coco felt much different as he went through the motions for their second visit. He knew her better. He knew she felt something too. Something more. He sat down at the table, his eyes trained on the door. They swung open and he leaned back when a different inmate walked in. He heard a loud laugh from around the corner and his heart skipped. He stood up as Nyx walked in, a huge smile on her face as she joked with the woman in front of her. Her eyes found his while she was being uncuffed and her face lit up even more. 

“There you are,” she rubbed her wrists as she walked over.

“You okay?” he asked, stumbling when she threw herself into his arms.

Coco pulled her into a tight hug, smiling softly when he felt her tremble. He rubbed her back and closed his eyes, holding her close until a CO called her name. She sat down and looked away, bringing a hand up to her eyes.

“You okay?” he asked again, a little softer as he took her hand. He felt remnants of tears on her fingers, still watching her intently.

“Even your concerned stare makes me feel squirmy,” she joked, squeezing his hand, “I’m okay. I’m happy to see you. How was your trip?”

He smiled softly, “Long, too hot. Boring. Missed you.”

Nyx pushed some loose hair out of her eyes, “I missed you too. Now tell me why you put money on my books.”

“Cause I want you to call me,” he smirked, “Don’t wanna just hear your voice when I can make it over here.”

“You’re a secret romantic,” Nyx grinned.

He held up a finger to his lips and winked. She laughed and reached into her pocket. She set a folded piece of paper on the table.

“For me?” he asked, glancing at a curious CO.

“The drawing, remember?” she murmured, “I finished it. I mean, this one’s not really a tattoo. I just…started thinking about you and this came out.”

“Really?” Coco took the paper, “Should I look now?”

She nodded, “I didn’t get to see your reaction to the first one.”

He let her hand go and unfolded the paper, his eyes wide. It was a drawing of the two of them, Nyx in a bikini, Coco in swim trunks. It looked like a photo from a beach day. He looked up to see her fidgeting nervously with her id bracelet.

“This is crazy, baby,” he murmured, “You did all this from memory?”

“Yeah,” she smiled softly, “I kinda guessed on your tattoos and shit since I’ve only seen you dressed. So far,” Coco smirked, “But yeah.”

“Good enough till we get a real one,” he smiled and folded it back up, “I love it,” he tried to play it cool but it felt like his heart was about to fly out of his chest.

Her eyes lit up, “Really?”

He nodded, “Hell yeah,” he put it in his shirt pocket, “Thank you.”

“It was inspired by your offer on my first day out,” she admitted, lacing their fingers together when he reached out again.

“Just let me know the date and I’ll be here,” he said, squeezing her hand.

“I still have a while to go,” she told him, “I get it if you don’t want to wait.”

Coco watched her body language change as she offered him an out. He tightened his grip on her hand, “Hey, what’d I say?” he murmured, “I got you. I’m not letting you rot in here. Not anymore.”

Nyx looked away before he saw the tears pooling in her eyes. He squeezed her hand again and she smiled uneasily.

“You gotta stop saying all the right things,” she joked.

“So I shouldn’t ask if you want me to hold your stuff again?” he smiled.

She laughed and wiped her eyes, “I can’t even help you move it, so no. It’ll be fine.”

He shook his head, “Nah, I didn’t ask for help. I don’t want him to pull some shit but if you don’t want to, I won’t.”

She frowned, “I just don’t wanna be a - “

“You aren’t a burden, baby,” he murmured, “I offered. And I got a team of brothers ready to help.”

“It would be nice to be done with him,” she admitted, “I just…what if something bad happens to us?”

Coco laced their fingers together, “I won’t take it out on your stuff, I swear,” he crossed his heart with his free hand.

Nyx smiled, “Cross your heart?”

“Hope to die,” he winked, grinning when she laughed.

Nyx,

Replaying the way you clung to me during our second hug. How you felt in my arms. It’s been a long time since I felt anything like this. I got all your stuff. I wish you could’ve seen his face when I rolled up 6 deep. He was pale as fuck. It was hilarious. It’s in my garage for now. My kid won’t stop making fun of me and my brothers aren’t any better. But you’re worth it ma. Gonna start coming up to see you more. I showed my kid the drawing, she loved it. She said she’s gonna ask you to draw for her too. Would you be cool if she wrote you too? You can say no if you want. I miss you.

Coco

PS I figured out why I abandoned the roster

[onp4012]

Pick a Card: Is it time to let go of this connection or is there still hope?

Pick one of the pictures to get an advice regarding an ex-partner. It may or may not resonate. Really hope you like it!

feel free to suggest PAC ideas in the inbox!

Please like and reblog ^^

masterlist

Pile 1

Sun, Hanged Man, 4W, 5S, Death, 6W, Magician

The dynamic-> I feel like the energy between the two of you is very childish and you enjoy each other’s presence. For some of you, this might be a high school relationship. Either way, it seems that both partners are very inexperienced. Perhaps you have come together because you were clicking and getting along, probably had a lot of fun together, but you have realized just now that you are actually a bit more different than you have expected and you are disappointed. I don’t see serious fights and stuff, but rather inconveniences which can be overcame through communication and rational thinking. It doesn’t seem as serious as you might believe it is. Okay, I feel like this might be an ex or an ex friend you’re asking about and I’ll tell you straight: in my opinion, you should focus on yourself and not go back or try to fix things. The 5 of swords fell out of the deck, so it could mean that there might’ve been someone who cheated or betrayed.

Conclusion->there is no hope of getting back with them. You are better off alone and you need time for yourself. You do not need a partner right now so you can carry on and focus on yourself.

Pile 2

KNOS, Hermit, KOS, 5P, Sun, KNOP, 4S

The dynamic-> I can already feel the coldness of you or your person. Alright, perhaps this connection kinda ended because someone decided that they are better off single and the other person was like “are you for real leaving me because of this? Am I a joke to you?” And then a whole ass argument broke out in which the masculine retreated in himself and started ghosting and the feminine got pissed off and just left. It’s like this outbreak gave you clarity. You have sought guidance from the divine and you’ve been waiting for this reading probably. You are stronger now. There could be another situation in which money are involved. Perhaps this connection has dried you off money or while you were together you had financial issues, but once you have found yourself you have started to grow financially. It seems to me that you’ve had a good ol’ change and you have grown a lot as a person.

Conclusion->this connection was meant to be a lesson you had to learn. Leave it stay in the past as a memory and guide others you see disoriented. Never accept emotional coldness from your partner and learn more and grow more.

Pile 3

KNOW, 10S, Hermit, 5C, 2P, KNOP, 10W

The dynamic-> it seems to me that you have probably broke up because at some point things have become boring or one of the partners stopped being so fiery and passionate about their partner. It could be that one of the partners had wandering eyes and the other person felt betrayed. Could also be the fact that one of them lost feelings and said it straight that they do not love them anymore. I see both people suffering somehow. It’s like the person who has said those stuff thinks about the past and is still processing all of the things that happened. The other person is purely suffering and they are very sad and confused. I feel like you might be the second person and you are feeling lost and confused. I don’t see a future with this connection because of two reasons: first person lost feelings and doesn’t want to put in effort; second person has a tendency to be codependent which shouldn’t happen in a healthy relationship.

Conclusion-> do not try to revive this connection because things will only get worse and you need to learn how to establish boundaries and learn from your past mistakes. Never become codependent on your partner because you never know when they may leave

Pile 4

KNOW, 2P, 3S, Empress, 6P, KNOC, World

The dynamic-> this pile definitely gives me the idea that one of the partners cheated. I see this ex as someone who didn’t admit their feelings right and had no respect for their partner and then tried to blame their partner for their cheating. Very toxic energy around here. This person is definitely a player and you won’t want to face this piece of shit every again, I tell you that. There is someone kinder and even more beautiful coming to you. You must realize your whole potential and you will be gifted with a wonderful, caring and loving partner, the opposite of your ex. You need to step up in your power and not lose your kindness yourself. Do not go cold with the people around you, especially the ones who really love you. Control your emotions and be responsible with them. Never ever think about this person who has done you wrong because I can assure you that they will probably do you wrong in the future as well if you allow them to stay. This pile is similar to the previous pile.

Conclusion-> definitely not going back to this person because they have no respect for you and they are playing victim for nothing. You deserve so much better. Just wait and you’ll see.

Pile 5

7S, Death, 7P, 5P, 4P, 2S, QOC

The dynamic-> Lying, again. I feel like this connection ended because one of the partners wasn’t honest at all and they were very insecure and controlling and they were only acting confident. I feel a lot of insecurities coming from this pile tbh, it’s not even lack of self respect, it’s literally fear of losing someone you love so you manipulate them into thinking that you’re the only one who can love them. A very possessive and shitty energy. The masculine, or the more dominant part tried to keep the feminine attached to themselves and would get very jealous and could even get a bit aggressive whenever people would seem to look in the feminine’s direction. This could also be an abusive relationship for some of you (I am sorry you had to go through this). Remember, people don’t change, so don’t have your expectations up.

Conclusion-> please do not get back with this person because it is not a healthy connection. You should forgive this person for being like this but never come back to them, no matter how much they beg or cry.

______________________

Thx for reading the post. Hope you liked it and found it accurate ❤️ stay safe

[m1ckeyb3rry]

FR it’s actually crazy where are the itoshi non enjoyers at…im crying is your latest reblog also in ref to him bc if so you’re so real

REAL the lives are all connected the multiverse just is like that yk (pause yuki protag and he regains his past memories that kinda cooks) LMAOO because he would be so hyped like “oh yeah im that man the super cool ninja ladies love me fish (idk what equivalent would go here) fear me”

SIBLING GOALS PLEASEEEE LMFAOO king of kalos yuki…its giving insane aura

No because im just hella paranoid LMAO fortunately tumblr seems a lot chiller than other platforms but SHSJSB THANK YOUUU even a a tumbler inactive acc I’ll be the number one Mira defender o7 call me Oliver aiku the way I defend LMAOO ok Twitter is actually insane like INSANE insane I fr only use it because some official accounts like to update there and there’s also some really nice art there but other than that absolutely 0 interacting because that’s like reddits younger sibling

LMFAO no actually Nagiy/n just gatekeeping the love sorry only room for one couple!!! /j but so real it adds depth to the whole world if people don’t get that they can leave!! IM CRYING nagi outing Reo like that is so funny

It’s like Isagis the angel and aikus the devil of the little consciousnesses consultants (bro what are they referred as ykwim like when they pop up on your shoulders) LMFAOAOAOAIAH THE BIKE LINE IM CRYINGGFGG stop that bright back so many memories I can’t

Your brain working so hard it’s foreshadowing for you LMAOO before I even read I was already thinking “I bet he’d be annoying af but eventually their daughter warms up to bug boy and they fall in love” HAHA wait why is he lowk giving igaguri vibes though….like not for igaguri to be inserted in as him but just purely on a vibe comparison standpoint….(grandfather nagi he alr acts like one NOW /j)

I was fr laughing so hard imagining that like it’s a classic poorly drawn picture done from like five colors of crayon but because of Barou gyarados and defeated Mr Mikage it’s almost 75% red LMFAO THE TEACHER PLAYING CPS IS CRAZY and she finds out like “wait your the former champions kid??????” OOOOH OMG no wait they have their son and readers like “omg he reminds me sm of my cousin…maybe this is a sign he’s always with me” BYE I started at new kiyora so long I forgot what s1 kiyora looked like LMAOO I see the vision!! It’s even funnier when you think about how Nagi and kiyora beef with each other now LOL

AHAHAA guys so im actually reader like ACTUALLY now /j this’ll be a very immersive read but LMAO on the flip side imagine reader also just trying to catch some random pokemon and for whatever reason she’s separated and just not with her own pokemon (idk maybe she’s setting up their campsite so everyone left to gather supplies or train or whatever so she’s just alone with all their traveling stuff) and some pokemon pops up that she wants so she just eats through Karasu’s entire quick ball stash and eventually catches it on like the last ball and Karasu comes back like “BRO WTF” LMAOA ok but another tally for a Karasu L HAHA first it was hioris ducklett now it’s the quick balls (maybe yayoi made fun of him before in a sibling way like this is why I’m gym leader not you cuz you suck)

AHAHA dumbass x dumbass power of friendship imagine his abomasnow also has a bunch of moves that inflict confusion on itself LMAOO or it’s just general super susceptible to anything that might inflict that status because it’s already confused 24/7 but WAITTTT this should just be a real series atp THE OVAS fr just have an entire expansion of the verse we all cheered if you have the time/motivation PLEASE MAKE THE OVAS wait this is Lowk becoming orv orv also has side stories (i haven’t read them oops) wait im laughing imagine hiori in a full safari zone fit BUT why not combine both ideas…hioris pokemon have a dispute INSIDE the safari zone LMAOO maybe he goes in to settle a dispute in there and while he does that his pokemon have to wait outside to which they start throwing hands (probably swanna starting it like we should go in and look after him and protect him from the pokemon inside or sth and they can’t figure out who they should send in to follow since a full team of 6 is too inconspicuous and then that just spirals into plain old fighting) WAIT I WANT A TABIEITA DUMBASS EPISODE does this warrant another notion folder (idk how notion works so I hope ykwim)

BAROU VERSION IN THW WORKS WOOHOOOO YES NIKO INTRO homeboy Niko coming in clutch, as aiku would say LMAO

HSGDJSS guys why’d she phrase that like peregrine and hollyhock are already dead….guys??? Ok but it’s ok someday I trust it’ll come into existence!! Speaking of did you end up deciding what you’re doing for the event?

Barou would truly appreciate the graphics “thanks for honoring my death maybe you’re not a donkey” LMFAOOEO sorry I’m having too much fun with this au and I’m not even the one writing it

BLLKS2 TRAILER!!! YES I DAW bruh the up close and personal screen of shirtless sae sends me but LOWK THE CHARACTERS LOOK PRETTY GOOD FOR THE MOST PART?? Omg Karasu our man got his justice!!! I agree I love how he looks!! Glow up from some of his initial manga panels LMAO I’ll admit the cgi somehow looks even more cgid (specifically the zoom in on Isagis feet with hiori in the back) and some animation sections feel very screenshot additional time-esque but WHATEVER (they also looked really oiled up in that one top6 shot like why are they sparkling like that) like you said s1 wasn’t unwatchable but some parts of the trailer feel even choppier, specifically with the lip syncing? Like when Nanase talks and when Rin and Shidou are beefing it’s giving like Pac-Man ass mouth but I’ll live with it the Karasu moments are saving me (the last shot of otoya in the trailer where he’s staring into our souls has me rolling though he kinda looks like he’s ON something but it’s ok) WE’LL LIVE

STOP NOT THE YOTD NAME DROP IM CRYING but FR!!! At least we have content and I bet for panels it really matters it’ll look fire! The way they did otoyas aura was kinda cool too!! But THATS WHAT IM SAYING where’s all the money they’re raking in going?? Like what….i kinda wish they’d splurge and go with a bigger studio but maybe they’re contractually bound to eightbit ugh but im sooo excited for s2!!!!! Maybe after this s2 they’ll finally put their eightbitussy into it

Im still kinda losing it over the fact that it’s 14 eps though? I’ve seen some people speculating saying maybe they’re doing another two cour division and it’s just for cour 1 but we’ll see….if it’s just 14 eps of super crunchy quality I won’t be as ecstatic though LOL but I think there’s also a chance they’ll refine it before release? Because actually the end credits scene for epinagi got refined in the Amazon prime release iirc so they gave Karasu and hiori a glow up (that locker room scene) and they look a lot less crunchy so manifesting…

- Karasu anon

YESSS IT WAS ABOUT SAE DHKSDKSJS i’d drop a piano on him in every life 🥲🙂‍↕️ nah because the itoshis occupy the same space as nanami jjk in my mind like i can see where the appeal comes from but they need to be humbled so i must hate

pursuit otoya def has a hat (he probably got it from karasu let’s be real) that just says “women want me magikarp fear me” but then reader’s magikarp loves him and no women want him thereby proving the hat completely wrong 😭

nah because king of kalos yuki…i need him tbh…he’s another one (kinda like reader when she retires) where he had to give up battling for personal issues so nobody’s ever beaten him in an ACTUAL league battle either 🤩 like lowkey bro could’ve been champion too the world will never know!! so he def commands insane respect (makes tabieita slandering him even funnier like do y’all know who you’re talking to rn)

all of my mutuals post relevant twitter screenshots so i get it secondhand HAHA avoiding the bad and receiving the good 😏 agreed it has mega reddit vibes for sure i’m scared of it…PLS you are the aiku of this verse we love to see it

imagine nagiy/n dueling tullireo “this town ain’t big enough for the two of us” FJSKDJJS real talk though i agree when a story is this long it’s impossible not to have background dynamics going on!! it adds to the fun anyways people who don’t get it just will have to miss out ig!! PLSS nagi has 0 chill he does not gaf he’ll out anyone…imagine reader asks reo for recommendations afterwards or smth LMAOOO he’s like how did you know you don’t even have any psychic types and she’s like uhhh my aegislash?? which is technically correct but from then on reo is super paranoid around aegislash because thinks it can read his mind 😭

HAHAHA wait shoulder angel/shoulder devil isagi/aiku goes so hard (consciousness consultants is cracking me up) their dynamic is so funny…wait this means aiku HAS to know barou in the past ☝🏻 maybe since he’s the one who gives reader her keystone after seeing her houndoom with its houndoominite he’s like “i knew this asshole with a houndoom who also had houndoominite what a coincidence” and reader’s like “not really that’s barou we’re related” and aiku’s like???

okay lowkey i was thinking niko but igaguri fits so well i’m crying 😭 pursuit sequel where it’s an igaguri x reader and we’re nagiy/n’s daughter real and true (new it trio reader + igaguri + kurona) /j ofc HAHAH but fr i think it would be so cute imagine her bringing him to meet nagi and reader and reader’s just like “i’m so proud of you for continuing the ‘dating losers’ trend in the family” and nagi’s like “yup 👍” because he’s accepted he’s a loser atp LMAOO omg nagi would def be that grandfather that lets you get away with whatever when he’s babysitting you and gives you like caramel candies or smth KFCJSJKS PLSS him sitting on a porch in an ugly ass sweater (from when reader or reo attempted knitting and used him as a guinea pig) in a rocking chair with tea i’m crying

sometimes a family is a man, his wife, his best friend’s father who his wife destroyed in battle, his wife’s vaguely homicidal hellhound, and his wife’s cousin watching over them disapprovingly from heaven 🥹❤️ i hope you like mr mikage’s mustache and barou’s hair i worked hard on them /j LMAOAAOAOO anyways i was crying making this i hope you appreciate it (also the ribbon on houndoom is because her mega stone is tied on her neck with a ribbon by barou when he gives her to reader but obviously nagiy/n’s child exaggerates things and yassifies houndoom to the max…the teacher pulls up expecting some cute weak little puppy pokémon and is met with THE houndoom who killed the leader of team x himself i bet she pisses her pants)

HAHAHA I LOVEEE GIVING KARASU L’S he truly cannot win…okay wait that’s so pokémon anime coded her using all of karasu’s quick balls to catch her phanpy and karasu comes back and is like um?? so he makes reader repay him but she doesn’t have that much money and she has to go around battling random people for enough cash and that’s how she gets to know phanpy LFJDJSJFH karasu’s gentle parenting at its finest he’s like “i hope you learned an important lesson today 😐” and she’s like “yeah apparently my phanpy knows rollout 😄” karasu just gives up atp 😭

ZANTETSU WITH A PERPETUALLY CONFUSED ABOMASNOW IS SOOO FUNNY TO ME AND SO CANON!! lowkey the side stories would be so fun especially because we could show more characters like zantetsu who don’t appear in the main story…maybe yuki taking his pokémon to aryu to get groomed or smth 🤔 PLSS THE HIORI IDEA I’M CACKLING 😭 imagine the tabieita ova is just otoya trying to teach karasu how to rizz girls up but he keeps getting rejected so karasu’s like bro you suck let me try and he gets a date on the first try FHDJDJSJ omg or we could have one of yayoi and karasu as kids…i had an idea for an otoya one but tumblr deleted half of my response for some reason?? like i had literally responded to your ENTIRE ask and just went to look something up and when i came back tumblr was like lol fuck you redo the entire thing 😰 WAIT possibly the same otoya one or maybe a diff one but just an ova of him being a chris prince stan and trying to follow the chris prince regimen ™️ but his muscles give out and his pokémon are like HELL NO or it’s like him just buying chris prince merch for an entire chapter 😭 or a tullia and loki ova when they go on a date and it’s just tullia being like “huh i wonder what reo’s doing rn…hold on why do i gaf…” (sneaking in the tullireo agenda as always) LMAOAOA NO FR i never read the side stories either but this is literally orv pokémon edition like maybe we WILL reach that 1.5 million word count /hj

AIKU IS VILLAINOUS IN THE BAROU VERSION HE’S SLANDERING EVERYONEEE so far lorenzo, barou, and niko have caught strays his inner monologue is cracking me up though 😭 fr homeboy niko ALWAYS comes through for the gang we love him!! aiku would be nothing without him

NOOO THEY’RE NOT DEAD DEAD i’m just pursuit brain rotted so once i get more of the oaeu and requests out i’m going to work on that for a while!! HAHA dw i’m having sm fun with it too it’s such an entertaining au with so many possibilities!! PLEASEEE barou’s like ok i guess it’s acceptable because it’s aesthetic you get a pass this time 😒

SADLY NOOO NO IDEAS YET actually ykw a pokémon theme would be really fun and in character atm!! i’d have to think of how to go about it but that is def one option (it’s coming up too AHH so i have to get to cooking for real!!)

agreed it’s not as awful as people are making it out to be!! a lot of the trailer was still frames too so it just looks choppier because it’s not an entire scene in motion yk…the budget is apparently higher than s1 so i doubt it’ll be worse than s1 if anything it’ll just be the same!! AND KARASU LOOKED SOOO GOOD THEY DID HIM JUSTICE i can’t wait to see him in action…i will forever mourn the thought of him with jet black hair and pretty violet eyes though 😩 purple/black karasu you will live on in our memories/99% of fanarts + colorings 😭 i feel like the blue falls a bit flat like he’s kind of just giving “isagi’s sexy cousin” atm HAHAHAHA but it’s all good he’s fine either way!! tbh yk me i’m just waiting for s2 for the edits anyways and if editors can make fire stuff out of manga panels they’ll def cook with whatever the anime gives us!!

speaking of edits do you know those tik tok sounds with the usa eagle screech i NEED people to start editing karasu with it because yk bird LMAOAAOOA JUST IMAGINEEE i don’t think he gets a bird aura panel until NEL (this is what i went to look up when tumblr glitched out for you to get a sense of how far i got) but i am investing i need people to get to WORK idk how no one has seen the vision yet!!

hmm i think if it’s only 14 eps they’ll definitely either go crazy or they’ll do two cours 🤔 tbh more content is more content i’m just hype to see my boys back on screen 🤩 the animators always yassify nagi so i’m chilling because there’s a high chance he’ll look good for the most part JFKSK i’m worried they might mess up barou because they seem to be allergic to him slaying but i still have faith!! ACTUALLY YKW i’m waiting for everyone to crawl out of the woodwork remembering how much they like nagi once they’re reminded of how cool he is…like NUH UH go back to the kaiser glazing hole you scrabbled out of leave nagi ALONE i have been here through everyone slandering him he’s MINEEEEEEEE (insert wolf ripping its shirt open meme) /j

anyways if it seems like i missed anything i’m sorry tumblr hates me so i probably thought i responded and didn’t LMAOAOA i think my og response was more fleshed out but alas…😓💔

[acoazlove]

Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!

Thank you @velarisdusk for tagging me <333

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

I haven’t posted anything on AO3 yet! but I am hoping to put my fics on there at some point!

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

Only 4 😞. But 8 if you count the chapters for A New Place. Which isn’t much but i only started posting a few months ago!!

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

I currently have 2!!

4. What was your favourite thing you wrote?

Definitely Mornings Like These. It was my first ever fic and I’m not sure if I would’ve continued writing, but it was received well and gave me the confidence to keep posting.

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

I’m not sure if I really strayed far from my usual style, but if I had to pick one it would probably be Spiralling Inside. I was going through it when I was writing it. So what I wrote were my real thought and what I was feeling. It didn’t really get too many notes but I’m proud of it anyway.

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or reception?

I’m seriously gonna have to go with my fic series A New Place. It got me to where I am now with writing. Although I didn’t like it when I first posted it, it got lots of notes, and they keep coming in!! Every new chapter I write for it I don’t like it. I always struggle while writing because I have a fic idea and it doesn’t come out how I want it, and this fic was no different. But I’m still writing it, and my mindset is that I can always fix them in the future. But I really do appreciate how well it was received.

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved and went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

Spiralling Inside, again. Beacause like I said, I wrote what I was feeling and not many people knew I posted it lol.

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

I’m not sure if music will count, but there are way too many songs that have inspired me, whether that’s while I’m writing or while I’m literally just day dreaming 🤦‍♀️ I can’t really think of anything else.

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

@illyrianbitch, @tadpolesonalgae and @daycourtofficial are a few of the author that have inspired me! all inspired me to start posting my writing and I always go back and reread their fics and love everything they do! They’re all incredible writer and deserve so much love<3

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

@halo-hanging, not a new author but I only stumbled across their stuff a couple months ago, and love everything they’ve done <3

11. Did you start any collaborations? How did you start it?

No, but I would like to at some point!

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

I wish I could say I finished my fic series but I haven’t :( I haven’t had much time and when I did have time I didn’t have any motivation. But I’ll say my biggest accomplishment is that I started posting and writing instead!

13.what did you learn about writing or creating this year?

I have learned to write for myself and enjoy what I’m doing. To not burn myself out by trying and failing to post a new chapter. To take a break if I feel it’s too much. That if I put myself out there I’ll meet new people and mutuals <333

14. What is your advice?

Just do it! Put yourself out there and post what you want. But especially, write for yourself. Not for anybody else, if you enjoy others will enjoy it!!

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

Keep writing. Keep enjoying what I’m doing, and find motivation to post more. Maybe do seomthing like kinktober and @sjmxreaderweek hopefully. Also to start and finish one or two of my courses by the end of the year!

If you’d like to, @illyrianbitch, @daycourtofficial, @utterlyazriel, @prythianpages, @writingcroissant, @itsswritten no pressure, and happy new year! <333

[livingthedragonlife]

*grabby hands* gimmie the rest of the rook ask game bullets so I can reblog and gush over your boy

WELL IF YOU INSIST! this is gonna be long as fuck so most of it is under a cut

[the ask game in question]

[my previous answers]

[my Rook, real name Valonril, also Val, I’ll be using all 3 interchangeably]

The Fool: Where did Rook's journey begin? What were they doing before joining the Veilguard?

Well, canonically, everyone’s Rook has been travelling with Varric and Harding for the past year tracking down Solas, and then before that they were doing whatever oopsie happened in their faction when Varric found them. So I’m gonna go back even farther.

Valonril grew up in a Dalish clan that moved around mostly southern Thedas, sometimes skirting up into the Free Marches, but avoiding Tevinter as you do. He was an apprentice to the craftsmaster while he was there, making weapons and armor, and particularly being handed anything that required a lot of repetitive work or precise measurement, because he always had a knack for that kind of stuff. He knows a lot about caring for weapons and armor, but not necessarily how to use them. Not to mention he was just making stuff that the average Dalish hunter needed, and didn’t actually learn how to fight until he left his clan and joined the Veil Jumpers.

He is also trans, and spent many years tracking down literally any sort of information on how to transition and if it was even possible. Thankfully, after hounding every Keeper, First, and healer he could get his hands on, he learned about other trans Dalish elves who used a kind of potion made from various plants with magical properties. He took to it immediately, and even came up with his own prayer to June, the god who he’d grown up being taught “created himself.” He also got June’s vallaslin around the same time.

Unfortunately, he’d suffered transphobia since coming out, and suffered even more once the changes from Magic HRT started to kick in. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore and left his clan to join the Veil Jumpers, not just to learn more about his people’s history, but also to see if there was any evidence of any trans elves in ancient times. Instead, he learned that his gods sucked ass! Whoops!

Anyway, while in the Veil Jumpers, he was surrounded by a lot more people from various background and a lot more magic. He eventually found someone willing to do an experimental magic top surgery on him, which was a success. He got a tattoo to commemorate it (it’s the little diamond option), and he was also working on a right arm sleeve before he fucked up that mission and Strife told him to get his ass out of there.

That was a single question, so the rest is going under the cut lmao

The High Priestess: Which does Rook obey more: their head or their heart?

Rook consults his head to see if it matches what his heart says. More often than not, they’re on the same page, but if they differ at all, he errs on the side of his heart. Thinking too much in a dangerous situation gets people killed—if he’d thought for even a split second longer during that catastrophe with the map, everyone would have died. He has a goal and he peruses it, sometimes he can take longer to think about it, other times he has to act fast and go with his gut feelings. He relies a lot on his gut feelings, and whether you think that’s a good or a bad thing is up to your personal opinion on his decisions.

The Empress: What does family mean for Rook?

It’s complicated.

For a long time, Val’s clan was his family, and he loved that. However, his parents were split on whether or not him being trans was fine or Diabolical Shem Influence, so that soured his relationship with both of them. His clan also had mixed feelings about it, which ruined that for him too. He misses his clan, the people he used to consider family, and wants desperately to get that relationship back. Realistically, he knows it’s not likely for most of them. He has no idea what his parents think of him now, and he doesn’t really want to find out.

He waded very slowly into the Veil Jumpers, worried he’d get a similar reception once they found out. One or two people were confused, but nobody was nearly as hateful as he expected, and he even met some other trans people (Dalish and otherwise) who had similar experiences with their families and leaving home. He hesitated to call it “family,” because he still yearned for his “old” family, but also because he was scared to lose another family if things went sideways. Regardless of what he called it, it was the closest thing he had to a family for a long time.

The Veilguard was what he was looking for the whole time, though. A place with a bunch of people who care about and trust each other and even when he fucks up, they’re there for him. A lot of Shit Happens over the course of this game, and Rook fully expects to be hated for some of it but… they don’t? Not even Lucanis fully rejects him, even after losing his entire home. It’s the first time he’s not had to walk on eggshells around people, either out of necessity or self-imposed fear.

The Emperor: What does Rook's leadership style look like?

In a meta sense, I picked mostly purple and red options, so he was a silly guy who could get down to business when necessary. Now to craft that into an actual personality.

Valonril wants to get the job done, by any means necessary, but he also knows that he’ll have more means if he takes care of his people. He tries to make sure everyone has room to relax, have a good time, be emotional and unserious for a minute or two, so they can be ready to focus when the time comes. Always being hard, aggressive, on edge—it burns people out fast. He knows that from trying to be that serious, unemotional, completely unaffected guy when his clan’s environment was suffocating him from the inside out. He’s not doing that to himself again, or to anyone else.

The Hierophant: Is Rook religious? How do they feel about the religious organizations that impact their life the most?

Val is Dalish, so that’s awkward.

He’s conflicted about it, honestly. The truth about their gods not actually being gods, and in fact being really shitty, was revealed to him a long time ago, but he still reflexively uses their names to praise and curse, he still prays over his HRT potion, he’s still vallaslin despite what it used to mean. At the same time, it makes him feel kind of gross. People like that don’t deserve to be venerated. But what is he supposed to do, throw out his entire culture because of it? Reject everything that he grew up with, that made him who he is? The gods were terrible, but the stories the Dalish spun about them still shaped his life in a way he can’t unpick.

Rook doesn’t really know what to do. He feels guilty about hearing that his gods stole the Titans’ dreams (for example), but feels weird about feeling guilty because it’s not like it’s personally his fault, and it’s not his fault elvish history was destroyed either. He doesn’t want to say nothing, but what good will apologizing do if he still feels personally connected to all his gods that turned out to be really terrible?

He's decided to just kind of… take the myths and lessons completely separate from the people they’re actually about. Even if June wasn’t actually a god (although I guess he did, in fact, create himself if you count crafting a body out of lyrium as doing that), he still found value and purpose in that story. And if they were all trapped in the Fade, it’s not like any of the gods could hear them praying in the first place, right? It’s still meaningful to him, in a weird way, and he sort of channels that into wanting to preserve as much elvish history as possible. Maybe the truth can make up for how personally he takes the lies.

The Lovers: Who is your Rook's most significant relationship within the Veilguard? How do they help Rook feel seen and understood?

His closest friendships were with Bellara and Harding, he and Taash have their Transgender Moments, and he romanced Davrin, so they’re all important to him in different ways.

Harding is just who he’s been travelling with for the longest, so they know each other best from that year together, but she also understands better than anyone else his “laugh so you don’t cry” philosophy. They can be goofy together, and he doesn’t have to be worried about being misunderstood as “not taking it seriously.” She’s kind and lighthearted, and a reminder that the world can be bright if we let it. And then she dies, which fucks him up forever.

He and Bellara share the same thirst for knowledge and urge to make things better for their people. They both have the same nostalgia for clan life, and it’s nice to find someone who understands. She’s much better with the artifacts than he is, and he deeply admires her for that, but he’s also glad to be an anchor for her if she needs one. The one who tells her to sleep, maybe? Eat food sometimes? Especially after Cyrian is gone for real, and he convinces her to keep the Nadas Dirthalen around for their people’s sake.

Taash makes him feel like a big brother, in a sense. He’s not that much older than them, but hearing the same “nobody likes being a woman,” out of their mouth that he told himself for years? That snapped him right into Leader Mode and he’s going to do everything he can to make sure they’re listened to and cared for and accepted. Being a soundboard for another trans person is a badge of honor to him, and he’s grateful they trust him enough to ask questions. (And then Harding dies, which makes him feel like he should take that badge off)

Davrin was a complete accident on his part, and for a while Val wasn’t sure if Davrin even liked him? Because he has his silly goofy ways, and Davrin is so serious? But no, it turned out Davrin needed someone to help him learn being vulnerable is necessary and being alive is good, and Valonril needed a chance to stop protecting himself and let somebody else do it for a change. He’s sort of learned that he’s the only one who has his own back. At best, he’s the guy who has to make all the decisions and make sure everyone else is okay, and deal with his own stuff in private. At worst, literally nobody cares about his problems anyway. Davrin being protective of him kind of threw him for a loop when he realized it was happening, but turns out! That’s good! I guess they both needed to learn to be vulnerable in different ways lmao

Strength: What gives your Rook courage? What inspires them to keep fighting?

It’s the knowledge that everyone everywhere is so fucked if he doesn’t. Rook can’t afford to stop fighting, because the entire world is his responsibility now. If he doesn’t do this, nobody will. He’s willing to step up to the challenge.

And later, he also adds that he has a boyfriend and bird son who need him alive, and he wants to make the world a better, safer place for all of them to live.

The Hermit: When Rook is alone with their thoughts, what do they think about? Is solitude a blessing or a curse for them?

Rook cannot sit still for even one second, so usually to even contemplate his own thoughts he has to be doing something else. He keeps a June’s Knot on him (an unsolvable puzzle, named after the elven god June) as a way to focus when he can’t help but fidget.

Val likes being alone, because sometimes he has so much going on he’d rather just sit on the floor, play with his puzzle, and think about one thing at a time. He needs to move his thoughts around like the June’s Knot, think everything over until the pieces slot themselves into place. And sort of life real life, the Knot is unsolvable. There’s no one perfect, correct answer to any problem. When he’s in a good headspace, he can accept that conclusion, and just do what he thinks is best.

When he’s not in a good headspace, it’s because he’s panicking. In that state, most of his thoughts boil down to “oh god I hope I’m doing things right???” Caring a lot about his team means he also agonizes about choices that impact them (he never fully got over choosing Minrathous over Treviso). He knows he’s doing his best, but in situations where literally the entire fate of the world rests on his decisions, it’s hard not to second- and third-guess himself. And then explode.

Justice: How does Rook feel about the circumstances that led to them leaving their faction? What does returning feel like?

Honestly, he was pissed. The idea that people’s lives mattered less than a stupid map was ridiculous to him, and to this day he stands by his decision and doesn’t regret it an inch. It was probably a good idea that Varric squirreled him away for a year, he and Strife probably would have tried to kill each other if he’d stayed.

Coming back was nice, though. Despite the circumstances by which he returned, Val missed his friends and the particular kind of adventure that comes with crawling through ruins and finding artifacts and lost knowledge. He was never very good at the “calming artifacts” part, but once they were off, he loved figuring out how they worked and what they were for. He liked finding personal records—people’s diaries and books and thinking about how they might have lived.

The Hanged Man: What does Rook do when their hard work doesn't pay off? How do they cope with failure?

Valonril can go one of two ways: the Forever Guilt or fuck you I was right the whole time. Sometimes both! At the same time!

His stubbornness means he’s loathe to admit when he’s made a less-than-optimal decision, but the responsibility he puts on himself to make everything his problem means that he hates when his choices don’t pan out like he wanted them too. He apologized about Treviso by lamenting that he thought he’d have time to save both cities, because admitting he chose to doom an one city of people to death and the Blight over the other would choke him to actually say. But also, he has the Forever Guilt and will never recover from this.

Death: What part of Rook do they need to kill to become the best version of themselves?

The idea that he has to do everything on his own, and that everything is his personal responsibility to do the best anyone’s ever done it. It makes sense, as he had to spend a lot of time looking after himself because nobody else would, solving his own problems because nobody cared enough to help, but now he DOES have help so he can STOP now.

Temperance: What does Rook do to deal with the stress of their situation?

GET SILLAYYYYY

Okay but for real, his coping philosophy is “laugh so you don’t cry,” and that’s what he does. He jokes around and tries to keep the Lighthouse a lighthearted (haha) place to spend time in. He hangs out with his friends, or takes the time to chill with them outside the Lighthouse. He'll never turn down a game night or passing a bottle around after dinner, trading stories and reminiscing about simpler times. While trading with the factions, he’s always keeping an eye out for things he can decorate with, or gifts for the team. He’s going to make this Lighthouse a Lighthome, dammit, and if Solas doesn’t like the new wallpaper, he can roll it up and shove it up his ass.

The Tower: How does Rook respond to unexpected catastrophe?

Step One: Is anyone immediately dying? If so, make sure they stop dying. Disregard any facts non-essential for preserving life. Step Two: Is there a way to get out of this situation? If so, do that. Step Three: can it be killed? Kill it. Repeat until problem is solved.

The situation with the map was steps one and two (got everyone out alive, but sacrificed the map). The situation where he smashed the artifact with a rock is all three steps (killed the artifact, but sacrificed his dignity). Treviso vs Minrathous messed him up because no matter what he did, he would be skipping past Step One of his singular plan for catastrophe and had to skip right to Step Three pretty much.

The Star: When things get dark, what gives Rook hope?

The knowledge that there are people around him who care. He’s got friends, loved ones, people who have hope for him, themselves, and their mission together. When he feels like a fuck-up, he has half a dozen people who will definitively tell him that he isn’t. He can look around and see the good he’s done—the good they’ve all done—and the people who are willing to fight for him. It’s a long, hard road, but it’s never hopeless.

The Moon: How does Rook's past impact their values? Does their past come with any biases or blind spots they have to account for?

Growing up Dalish, he’s had to unlearn the immediate and reflexive distrust of outsiders. Especially since he’s the outsider in most places now, which honestly can make it worse? He knows how elves are treated in cities, especially the Dalish, so being in populated areas without a lot of other elves around does make him anxious. Joining the Veil Jumpers helped, since he was kind of forced into a position where he would be meeting all kinds of people he never would have met otherwise.

And I guess… maybe he’s too stubborn? Very few people believed Val when he was trying to explain that he hated being a girl and nothing felt right, there were no answers for him. When he finally found his own answers and got to transition, things in his life started to click into place, despite what everyone was telling him. He had to ignore everyone’s “advice” about what he was doing with his body and dig his heels in no matter what. In some ways this is good, because it means he can stand up for himself and take charge of his own life. In other ways, he can kind of blind himself to other people’s help because he thinks he has to do everything himself, and if he feels very strongly about something that means he’s right. Sort of swung way too wide in that direction!

The Sun: What is Rook passionate about? How do they fuel that passion?

My man loves puzzles and discovery and adventures. He loves figuring things out. He fucks around so that he can experience the privilege of finding out.

He joined the Veil Jumpers to fuel that passion, and then he met Bellara, so they nerd out together. It took him a bit to adjust to the whole necromancy thing, but he and Emmrich get along for that reason too. Neve’s detective investigations are basically puzzles, so he enjoys helping her with those. This whole game is about going to new places and seeing new things and he enjoys that, despite the… circumstances. He finds a lot to enjoy about being in the Veilguard! In spite of it all!

Judgement: How does Rook approach difficult decisions? How do they cope with the consequences of those choices?

Val’s priority number one will always be to minimize harm. He wants as many people to get out alive and unharmed as possible, no matter what. He believes all life is precious, and he acts like it.

Unfortunately, he runs into some situations where some people are going to get harmed and/or die, no matter what. He tries his damnedest to make sure that doesn’t happen, but sometimes it’s inevitable. He deals with this by like… flagellating himself eternally with the guilt? And/or resolving to make up for it later, by Doing The Thing. Saving The World Will Prove Your Sacrifice Was Not In Vain, so now he has even more pressure on him, placed there completely voluntarily. Reminds me of someone, can’t remember who tho.

[rotworld]

Hi there,

I want to rant about fetishes. I know I'm into the more violent stuff, and I'm pretty sure I know why (lifetime of self-hatred and trauma to boot), but recently I've been dabbling in the guro side of things and I feel ... guilty? Ashamed? Also idk how to filter guro so I only see the things that work for *me* (drowning, bruises, beatings) and not the other stuff (dec*pitation, graphic torture). At the same time I cant help but feel like I'm what's wrong with the world. Do you have any advice for me?

pretty heavy talk ahead. i’ll start with the advice and end with a personal anecdote if that’s useful.

i want to start by saying you’re not “what’s with the world.” there are a lot of reasons people seek out gore and graphic content. for some, it’s morbid curiosity and for others there is a fetish component. if you’ve been through something traumatic, i think there’s a draw to view violence from a “safe” distance as a form of catharsis. none of that makes you a bad person. but i also think it can cross very easily into a form of self-harm and become dangerous.

i don’t know you well enough to make assumptions beyond what you mentioned here. if you’re experiencing a lot of distress or discomfort, or feeling more negative about yourself, then you should stop seeking it out completely. it might be something that you view to “punish” yourself, or use to distract from other upsetting thoughts or feelings, especially if it’s something you’re looking for compulsively or extremely frequently. 

i also recommend cutting back on real gore, especially videos, if that’s what you’re looking at. those will desensitize you the more you watch them, and you shouldn’t be desensitized to real human suffering. those people in “infamous gore videos” don’t exist in a vacuum, they’re real people with childhoods and families who went through horrible things, and now it’s on the internet forever. if you’re worried that you’ve already hit that point of extreme numbness and don’t feel what you should or don’t feel anything, you’ll be okay if you stay away from gore for a while. those feelings you thought you lost will come back. when they do, i’d maintain that distance. stick to simulated gore in fictional horror media like movies or games instead.

in the past, when people have approached me about having guilt or shame about their interests, i generally told them not to worry. there’s nothing wrong with having noncon fantasies, or enjoying horror-themed erotica. as long as you’re able to distinguish fantasy from reality and don’t impose those fantasies on people who don’t consent to being involved in them, you’re fine. i stand by all of that. but this is about gore specifically which i feel is a little different. morbid curiosity or interest isn’t unusual but you have to keep it healthy and responsible. even if it’s purely fictional gore that’s giving you this reaction, you should still stop viewing it. it’s not “silly” or “weak” to acknowledge the emotional response you’re getting from something.

now the personal anecdote. i started writing explicit guro in 2016 (shades of it had been in my work before then). i had just graduated, i was feeling really lost, adrift and desperate for community, and i was extremely online. i followed a few people who reblogged real gore and went looking for it outside of tumblr a lot too. i was obsessed. i think i told myself it was “reference” for my work but it had the catharsis and fetish element for me too. these horrible things happened to other people instead of me, i could revel in it safely from a distance. but it wasn’t “safe,” it was harmful. it was so far beyond “curiosity,” it was a fixation and a crutch. i looked at it so much that it stopped feeling real and i forgot that the people in those videos were people at all. it was just a blur of gruesome, awful shit all the time. 

there wasn’t any single thing that made me stop. i think eventually it just wore on me too much. i wasn’t doing any of this stuff in moderation, i was online constantly, i was posting constantly, i was writing intense guro constantly. and there’s nothing wrong with making a lot of dark art, but i wasn’t engaging with any of my other interests or living my life much outside of it. i have boundaries i stick to for myself now. medical resources, roadkill, pictures people share consensually of their own injuries, things i might come across over the course of my normal life are fine. i don’t go looking for anything more extreme than that anymore, and i don’t even go looking for “acceptable things” all that often anymore. that kneejerk “god that’s awful” response that i’d lost is back. some people have a higher tolerance for this stuff than others, but i’m not “some people.” i know myself and i know what kinds of things i can become unhealthily reliant on and why, so now i’m much more careful. you know yourself best and you have to decide that for yourself, too.

[rosesradio]

status:

there’s been issues with my wifi at home—something with the dns, which wasn’t giving me issues because i was using nord’s dns. my dad has had to restart/rebuild some things for the wifi, and the process has had me extremely anxious and paranoid about my blog being found out. i use nordvpn, though through the intense amount of research i’ve done, i found that nord only encrypts my traffic from my internet service provider, not the home router (the thing i was originally trying to hide from :/) unless i connect the vpn through the router, like as an admin. due to my (feigned, related to my major) interest, my dad has allowed me to have access once the wifi comes back on in a day or two. i can’t see the insights into my device, though i am worried that once it does come back online, my parents will be able to see my online history.

to combat this for the time being, i made a burner account. i blocked the account on this blog, much like i did with my wattpad burner & account. i don’t imagine the insights will show exactly what blog I’m logged in on or what exact things i search, it’ll just say i spend a lot of time on tumblr. if asked, i’ll just say that i have a lurker account i use because the posts are funny & i didn’t say anything because i was embarrassed by the fandom stuff (I’m not, but i can lie). I can show them the most standard hp or percabeth stuff, nothing wild. it’ll look suspicious that i have nothing liked or reblogged, though I’ll just say that there’s a lot of discourse and don’t want to interact for fear of being “targeted” for being “problematic” (my conservative dad will love that). my sister (a few years older than me) has a Reddit account, and interacts with people on there, so it shouldn’t be too crazy for me to have a lurker tumblr. this solution doesn’t fix everything, i worry about potential cracks, though it’s the best thing i have for now—I’ll have to see what happens after the wifi comes back up.

as for why i’m so paranoid—it’s two fold. one, my mental health has been deteriorating severely this winter. my depression has turned to numbness and my anxiety to a crippling and nauseating paranoia. also, my parents have given me reason to be anxious about my online history. they were helicopter parents. at one point when i was like 14, they went through my phone and found (low quality lol, sfw) gay fanart from an instagram of mine. i was grounded for three months (they didn’t explicitly say that was the reason, they said it was because of excess screen time which is somewhat valid, though i could tell what the real reason was). nowadays, they’ve loosened the reigns a bit—they haven’t gone through my phone in years—i am 21 after all. but I also still live in their house and use their wifi, so anything is possible. i think it’ll turn out okay in the end, though it’s been making me anxious all the while.

[firstdivisiongirl]

Emma x Draken: Love Story Part 2

First Real Conversation

Draken seemed to be a new constant at the Sano household.  Almost as much as Baji or any of Shinichiro’s friends.  Every time he came over, Emma was too nervous to talk to him.  The moment she’d see him, she’d turn a bright shade of pink and run off to her room, thinking she just embarrassed herself.  But today, she was finally going to talk to him without getting flustered and running away.  Just as she was finishing up breakfast, she heard a knock on the door.  She knew it had to be Draken.  Mikey was still sleeping and grandpa and Shinichiro were already doing whatever they were doing.  This would just leave her with Draken.

She fixed her hair up and opened the door with a smile.  “Hi,” she said, starting to feel the heat rushing to her cheeks.

“Hi, is Mikey up yet?” he asked, looking at her confused.

“He’s still asleep.  Do you want to come in and wait for him?  I have food if you want any.”

“Umm…sure.”

Draken walked into the house.  It was simple, not much decor, but it was a lot nicer than the brothel in Draken’s eyes.  He could stop looking at her as she finished up preparing breakfast.  She was just….cute, beautiful, angelic, so many things.  He started to feel his heart speed up.  He just wanted to spend more time with her, but he was one of the toughest and strongest kids in Tokyo.  He couldn’t show a soft side.  All of these thoughts were interrupted by a sweet voice, “so, where do you live?”

“Oh, I live in the red light district.”

“Wow, it must be exciting.”

“I guess.  Nothing really interesting happens.  It must be nice living out here.  Seems pretty quiet.”

“It’s nice.  Takes longer to get to shopping, but walking is good for you.”

“So…what type of stuff do you like?”

“I really like fortune telling and makeup and surprisingly enough housework.  Oh and shopping!”

“Is there anything girly you don’t like?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.  Just asking geez.”

“Ok!  Then what do you like?”

“I like tinkering on my Zephyr, fighting, hanging out with your brother.”

Draken wanted to add seeing her, but he has an act to keep up.  Emma handed him some food.

“That’s nice to know.  I’m just happy you’re a lot quieter and less rambunctious as Baji.  I swear those two are going to destroy the house one day.”

“Yeah those two are interesting.”

“You can say that again.”  The two laughed as a sleepy Mikey walked into the room.  “You’re too loud for it being this early,” Mikey said as he scaled at the two.  His hair was messy and he barely looked awake.  He sat down and Emma served him.  Draken got up and handed Emma his dishes

“Thank you for the meal,” he said, “I’ll be in the garage Mikey.”

He started to walk towards the door when he turned back around to Emma with a smile, “it was nice talking to you Emma.”  Finally, he left and headed toward the garage.  Emma’s cheeks started to turn a deep shade of pink.  Little did she know, Draken’s were turning the exact same color at the moment.

Please do not copy, modify, translate or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated!

[tarithenurse]

I see fire - 14

Fandom: D&D 5E/homebrew campaign. Word count: 2226. Contents: Plotting, lore, some planning and drinking. A/N: Any questions are welcome. Please comment and like and reblog. Let me know if you want a tag. Divider by @firefly-graphics

XIV

It’s not a full day’s walk to Stouvania and so the trio can make it to the leather-worker Sue Thao just before she closes shop for the day. Entering, they find that many of the leathers that had been hanging or stacked around the shop have been taken into use and the woman’s face does light up with the prospect of good news – something that the trio find hard to dash but they must.

“Godsdamnit!” she swears, momentarily closing her eyes to regain composure. “Well, that’s not your fault and a deal’s a deal.”

She goes to the back and retrieves the payment they had been promised plus the two raincoats that had been commissioned for them by deputy McBribe in Heartwell Shire. The third raincoat is bright white and much more fancy looking but the trio are given no time to admire it, as Sue Thao wants to close shop, rushing to the guild to talk to people about her problem with the lack of supply.

Folding the raincoats away, hoping the clouds won’t turn into rain just yet, the trio makes one stop on the way to Tio: Barr’s Blacksmith.

It’s a busy place but a guy working with an apprentice notices the trio and pauses the work to come over and talk with Anvindr. It turns out to be Barr himself.

Looking at the schematics that the genasi is showing, he frowns. “It won’t be cheap...even if we had the materials ready.”

“What do you mean?” Anvindr asks.

“We got issues with our usual supplier,” Barr admits. “Presuming we can supply it all, it’ll still be 70 copper pieces, though.” He bends down to study some of the more intricate details. “And uhm...some of this we simply can’t make.” He points to some the pencilled mechanisms.

Anvindr nods. “That’s fine, I can create the finer work myself if I can borrow a place to work but I need help with the base work.”

“That’d work, yeah,” Barr seems to calculate in his mind. “Five copper up front for the materials and the rest upon completion? Mind if my apprentice sits in on it?”

The air genasi doesn’t mind, stating that he knows how important it is for the young ones to get experience with real projects – he’s had an apprentice himself.

“Where do you get your materials from?” Morella butts in.

The blacksmith looks at her with curiosity but answers politely: “The Stouvanian mines were drained years ago so we get it from Kinsbury Harbour down south. By ship. Or...we are supposed to get it from there but nothing’s come for over a month now and we’re running low on ore.” He sighs. “In fact every single trade has been affected in some way except the fishing and it’s like the guilds don’t bother to do anything about it when we come with our problems!”

Anvindr frowns. “When did this all start?” he asks, although the trio half expect they know what the answer will be.

“After the rebellion which was a year, year and a half ago.” Barr itches his nose, adding to the soot smears in the face. “Everything’s gone to shit since then. Lots of people have had to close shop and leave.”

“Kinda sounds like a complete destabilization of the economy,” the genasi ponders, earning him confused and concerned looks. “But if it’s the Masons...they’d need a backer to finance it. Someone wealthy.”

“Whatever the reason...something has to change soon or I’ll be out of business too,” Barr declares. “At least I can start over somewhere else, though.” Then he hesitates, looking at the schematics. “That stuff,” he points to the mechanisms, “that’s some gnome stuff. Once met a bunch of weird little freaks who travelled around to offer their services. Think they went on north.”

“When was this?” Anvindr asks eagerly.

“Hm...five or six years ago?”

---

At the Adventuring Guild, the first thing Morella does is to dole out a hug – this time Tio is the surprised recipient. Hugging back fiercely, he sighs deeply.

“I might’ve needed that,” he admits as he carefully extricates himself again. “What news?”

“Not anything as pleasant as that,” Anvindr admits before giving him the rundown on the mine, the copper group’s death, the kelpie and marrow at the Locketts’, and even the concern of the Towers. “We’re considering looking into it,” he finishes. “On our own time.”

Tio has grown more and more serious while listening. “Fucking Hells,” he now grumbles, hands balled into fists on the table. “I’ve heard nothing of this before now. I’m told nothing.” Resolutely, he pushes the chair back with a screech. “I’m gonna make some complaints!”

“Woah,” Zilvra says, recalling the words of Paul Davis, “can you give us a head start?”

The guildmaster looks reluctant but relents: “Fine. One day.” Then he sighs and settles down again. “The Tower is one day southeast of the Locketts’.”

“Thank you,” says Anvindr.

The trio turns to leave but in the last moment, the drow gives in to her curiosity. “Master Tio? Do you know anything about my kind and a place called Umbra?”

He blinks a bit perplexed at the subject change. “Uh...no. But there once was a drow outpost south of Silver Keep, near the swamp. You know...from the cold war.” He scratches his neck. “But that’s been abandoned for a long time and is overrun by ogres.”

“Alright...thank you.” Zilvra can’t help but feel a bit bummed.

“Oh! And the raincoats!” Morella then exclaims.

Anvindr pulls out the borrowed cloak and hands it to Tio who promises to get it back to the rightful owner.

Back out on the street, the trio debates what to do next. It’s getting late in the afternoon but maybe that would be the perfect time to get a message to #2. Then of course there’s the issue of what to relay to the man. They want to be useful though preferably without selling out the Masons. In the end, they agree to keep it to two simple points: 1) The carts used for the lumber and leather are the same kind as was used for the grape thievery; and 2) Stouvania has been outbid by a third party.

With that decision, the group heads out in search for the cheese shop called The Cheddar Valley. It’s not hard to find near the market place with a big facade that proclaims the name clearly.

Inside it’s still busy and they have to wait their turn before they can ask the friendly woman for Klaud Mohan.

“Right this way,” she smiles and leads them down into the basement.

There, they are met with stacks and stacks of cheeses and whole shelves too with smaller cuts. There are crates being filled with neatly wrapped chunks, all handled by a single man in his 60’s, dressed in white and handling a wire cutter elegantly to deal with a big block of softer cheese.

“Klaud Mohan?” Anvindr asks.

“The one and only,” is the reply as he nods for the woman who guided the trio down to leave.

Anvindr glances at his friends who nudge to spur him on. “We were told we could leave word with you so uhm...yes...” Hesitantly at first, the genasi explains the connections and discoveries.

There’s a beat of silence while Mohan still cuts and wraps his cheeses.

“And who am I supposed to tell this to?”

His question makes the trio tense up. Perhaps they had misunderstood something?

“To Two,” Zilvra dares, watching for any sign of deceit but finding none.

Mohan nods. “Used to work with him. Negotiations. Making people talk.”

The drow has a distinct feeling that ‘interrogations’ might be a better job description with all that it entails and it makes her a bit nervous – an anxiety that’s heightened as the man walks over and locks the door out of the basement but all he does afterwards is get out the pen and ink and scribble a message on the wrapping paper.

“My friend is in a delicate situation because as the best at his job, he’s found himself in a position of leadership.”

Morella raises a hand discreetly, earning a slight smile from the man. “What does he do?”

“He did rogue work. Infiltration. Subduing.” Picking out a new cheese from a shelf, Mohan cuts a piece off and wraps it in the paper he wrote on. “Problem is, with leadership comes basically being the queen’s lapdog, restricted to be hands off and instead relying on others to bring him the information he needs.” The human sets the block of cheese back on the shelf. “Eventually, he’ll be surpassed if for no other reason than the fact that he’s immensely loyal to the essence of Stouvania.”

“Sounds by the nomen that he already has been,” Zilvra points out.

The man smiles wickedly. “No....#1 has held that rank for a long time and I doubt anyone will get there.”

“So you did the same work but now you...sell cheese?” Anvindr tries to figure it out.

“Most is import but there are some local ones too that are worth stocking.”

Morella points to the one he’s handling: “That one looks mouldy.”

“It is but it’s the right kind of mould. It’s called a blue cheese.” He cuts a small nugget off and hands it towards her. “Here, try.”

An odd look has come over the druid’s face and she shakes her head as if clearing her mind. “Micanoids,” she mumbles but then takes the piece and munches on it with delight.

Zilvra knows what micanoids are – a kind of giant living mushrooms of different sorts that live peacefully, tending to patches of grown land underground or in dark forests, growing normal fungi as well as tending to the little ones of their own kind. In Menzoberranzan, she saw them tend the fields that provided one of the most important sources of food for the city. They are friendly and a bit curious.

“Here, you try too.” Mohan offers the others a nugget each only to laugh at their reactions when they taste it and don’t find it as delightful as Morella had. “Yeah, it may be an acquired taste.” Then he grows serious again: “Any messages to him, you can send through me.”

“That is good to know,” the trio agrees.

Coming out past the table, the cheese vendor unlocks the door and points them up the stairs – clearly the meeting is over.

Not knowing where else to go, the friends head for the only inn in town they’ve frequented before: the Tasty Drink. There they arrange for lodgings for the night before scoring a table. It’s crammed and rowdy already as most people have finished their dinners and are getting into the heavier drinking. As if inspired, the green-skinned Morella boldly orders and entire keg of ale, unbothered with the attention it brings.

“One keg of ale-thingy coming up, miss,” the bartender grins, clearly not having forgotten their last visit.

Zilvra eats quickly and then heads out, leaving her two friends to enjoy the ale while she tends to her own business. When she was arrested, her gear had been confiscated and not all was returned. Among the missing items is her lockpicking tools but she is certain she can acquire a new set in the city – where there are enough people, there is crime. She knows what to look for as the criminal world’s ways of communicating has been deftly streamlined through guilds and eons of practice.

The rogue watches the walls and cobbled stones closely for signs and eventually finds herself near the harbour looking at a supposed graffiti of a monkey. There’s no one about, so she steps up and touches the flaking paint, feeling the same pattern etched into the wall beneath it, and in her mind she hears the words: “Find Travis”. The only Travis the drow recalls hearing or seeing anything about is a shop called Travis’ Wax which sells candles in the Crafters’ District.

Heading there, the shop is closed but there’s a tiny etching of a monkey on the cobble stone outside. At least she knows where to go when business hours resume.

---

Back at the inn, there’s singing and cheering. Morella’s voice calls out over the din as soon as Zilvra enters the establishment. The druid has gotten her keg and by the looks of it nearly drained it already because she’s clinging on to it and waving her tankard, not minding Anvindr’s efforts to shush her despite his own woozy focus.

“You’re back!” Morella squeals.

“She’s back,” Anvindr echoes, “now can we go to bed?”

The druid tries to pin him with a glare but seems to give up on the effort, shoves the keg under one arm and grasps her friend’s hand before disappearing with both in a puff, leaving Zilvra staring at the empty seats.

“Woaaaah!” some guy hollers, trying to get his friends to pay attention to the vanishing act but he’s too late and they don’t believe him, claiming he’s too drunk.

Deciding she hasn’t had nearly enough alcohol to deal with people, Zilvra finds the ladder that leads up to the communal sleeping area.

Upstairs, Morella has fallen asleep, haphazardly strewn across a bottom bunk where also Anvindr can be found, trying to free himself of his armour.

[insanepoll]

johnny propaganda masterpost! i’ll update after each round

askbox: 1x.

reblogs: 1x. 2x.

[ID: white slide with a picture of johnny the homicidal murderer on the centre. on the left, reads, “He tortures and murders people for reasons ranging from this one creep trying to hurt his kid neighbor to someone called him 'wacky'. He also needs blood to paint this one wall in his labyrinth basement to keep a monster in, but that turns out to actually be real. He also has headvoices that take the shape of a pet bunny he murdered and some styrofoam doughboys he painted. Some of them get slowly stolen from him by the monster and aren't his anymore. He tries to kill a girl he's on a date with because she makes him happy and he fears something happening that ruins their relationship. She beats him up and gets away. He also kills himself by accident and goes to heaven and hell and loses most of his hair when he comes back. Or it was a crazy dream and he sleep-shaved it. Also he once tried to make rice krispy treats, but he had no butter and he cried and expected butter to just...show up. He's also broken into neighbors' houses to make himself a sandwich. And he does stuff like putting rats into a blender and filling up dolls with it and nailing them to the wall. I think it was an art project?? According to his twitter he's also killed people in his sleep, including turning a lady into a canoe, and has worn people's faces as his face despite hating blood and touching people.”

on the bottom, reads, “silly little goofy guy who kills people and uses their blood to paint a haunted wall. he hates people, hears voices, and talks to himself a lot. he's also pretty dramatic. i know he's been submitted already but i just love him so much XD.” /End ID.]

[amazingmsme]

thank you for providing water (content) in the desert (starkid fandom)

I’ll try to add to the Hatchetfield stuff! I feel like a lot of lautski study sessions end with Steph getting way too bored and way too distracted looking at her silly bf. I mean what is she supposed to do? Not mess with him while he’s lost in a ramble about the topic? Alternatively, Pete knows that Steph needs a bit of a motivator sometimes. She can get really frustrated and in her own head, shutting down and becoming somewhat cagey out of frustration, so he tries to snap her out of it by making her smile and blush, saying a bunch of really genuine compliments while poking at her. (Pete usually tends to be more teasy, taking from his brother, but when him and Steph are alone they get So soft ugh)

In different situations they get very playful with it, Pete grew up battling in tickle fights, while Steph just enjoys messing with him. This sometimes causes quite the commotion and Steph will leave the room afterward to get water or smth and will see Ted and he’ll go “you kick his ass?” “You know it.” and they fist bump or some shit lol

forgive me I don’t really write out headcanons ever, but I tried 😭 hopefully this is something!

You’re very welcome! The drought is finally coming to an end!

GSMAJDK THIS IS SO CUTE! I love their lil study dates that slowly turn into real dates! Pete tries so hard to try to make things interesting to keep her engaged because he knows that school & learning isn’t fun for everyone. So he tries to explain things in a way he thinks she’ll understand & meanwhile she’s just so smitten with him but he’s lost in thought & doesn’t even notice the literal heart eyes she’s giving him! They’re the cutest couple in the world your honor!

Ok but hear me out: Pete incorporating tickling into their studying! For every question she gets wrong, he gets to “punish” her. But then he starts to notice that she’s purposefully getting things wrong & he’s like “ok this clearly isn’t working Steph. How ‘bout I only tickle you if you get a question right?” & she’s blushing & stuttering & trying to say how that’s not fair because she doesn’t wanna admit that she actually likes it! Even if he already knows she does

Of course sometimes she just doesn’t feel like studying no matter how fun Peter tries to make it & she tickles him until he agrees they can have a break. & then she spends that break wrecking him😂 a lot of their study sessions end up very giggly & after they’re done & come out in the living room Ted’s like “you two have got to be the loudest fucking studiers in the world” but he’s smirking & winks at them to let them know he doesn’t actual mind. & kxvakdfh he totally encourages Steph to wreck his lil baby bro & gives her high fives & fist bumps when she does. & he’ll drop a useful tip for her every once in a while. Peter catches on when Steph finds the spot on the small of his back because only Ted knows about that. He swears he’s gonna kill him for it (he does not)

Just. Lautski study dates that quickly turn into tickle fights. You agree. Reblog.