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ddejavvu · 1 year

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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!

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pinkandblueblurbs · 1 year

Text

baked

daryl dixon x fem!reader. marijuana, high sex, penetrative sex, lazy sex, giggly sex, light d/s dynamics, praise, unsafe sex, unprotected sex, creampie, sex with feelings

word count: 1.6k

“Mm… this feels so nice.” You grin at him dopily as the high starts to kick in. He lets out an amused huff.

“Yeah, I bet.”

“Don’t you feel somethin?”

“I feel somethin’, sure. But I ain’t where you are, sunshine.”

He can see it in your eyes how gone you are. Your pupils are blown even wider than they are when he fucks you, your lids are permanently at half mast. Not to mention the pauses you take— there’s a couple of full beats before you process his words and let out a giggle in response.

“Dunno what you mean by that, I’m riiight here.” You drawl, sitting up from where you’d slumped into the back of the sofa and crawling over to Daryl. It’s slow and lazy, the way you move yourself onto his lap, and he watches patiently with his hands hovering until you’re settled and they can come to rest on your hips. Your own hands reach out to cup his face.

“Y’so pretty,” you say admiringly, trailing your eyes over his features. His cheeks warm under your palms.

“Shuddup.” He grunts. You smile, leaning down to kiss him. He kisses you back, like he always does, but slows it down for you, letting you melt into it as it consumes your foggy brain.

“Daryl,” you gasp out into his mouth when you pull back ever so slightly, your hand gripping onto his and leading it from your hip to your breast. He indulges you, groping at the flesh there and making your eyes flutter shut. The soft breathy sigh you let out makes his cock stir in his pants. “I want more.”

“Y’sure about that?” His voice has lowered with arousal, but the eyes that meet yours are sharp. “Yer pretty baked, kid.”

Your head bobbles in a clumsy nod, fingers curling around his other hand to tug it down to the apex of your thighs. Despite the fog that’s settled in your brain you’ve never been more sure of anything. “Please.”

Daryl’s breath hitches. The weed’s made you shameless, and it’s the hottest damn thing he’s ever seen.

“Yeah, alright.” His fingers are rubbing over your clothed pussy, making you moan already, and his other hand abandons your breast to support your back so he can shift your bodies and lay you down on the sofa with him above you.

He unzips the fly of your pants and you shimmy your hips to help him pull them off, giggling with the movement. The ends of Daryl’s lips just barely quirk into a smile. Your underwear come off next.

“You gonna let me eat this pretty pussy?” He rasps once he has you bare from the waist down. There’s another pause where Daryl can see the gears in your head turning, and he’s a bit surprised when a small pout settles on your lips and you shake your head.

“Want you inside me.” You reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair, guiding him closer, “‘n I want your mouth up here.”

“Yeah?” He cups your face, calloused thumb tracing the pillow of your lower lip. His cock twitches when your lips fall open, inviting the digit to slip past.

“Mhm,” you hum as he strokes his thumb over your tongue. He can’t stand the way you’re looking up at him— eyes dazed and flooded black, lashes kissing your cheeks with every slow blink, your mouth slack with his thumb resting inside. You look like a fucking wet dream.

“Can’t say no to that.” He slides his thumb out and when he leans down his tongue quickly replaces it.

He unzips his own fly now, clumsily working his way out his pants without breaking away from your kiss. That has you giggling into his mouth again— you feel so light that the laughter comes easily, rising out of you like bubbles. Daryl smiles against your lips. Part of you wishes you could see it, but feeling it is almost better.

“Yer so fuckin’ cute,” he breathes out. Your heart soars.

“Love you so much,” you respond in a whisper, grasping the sides of his head, fingers threading through his hair. “Please fuck me, Daryl. Need it now, please—“

“I know, I know.” He reaches down to position his cock at your pussy, the tip of it catching on your entrance and sliding inside. You choke on a gasp as he thrusts in, slow and steady, until he’s fully seated, the head pressed against your g-spot.

It’s overwhelming, even more than usual. You squeeze your eyes shut and the rest of the world fades into the background. All you can feel is his cock inside you, the locks of his hair between your fingers, the presence of his body above you.

“I got you,” he soothes, staring down at your face, knowing how intense the sensations must be with you like this. “That feel good?”

“So good,” it’s so quiet he barely catches it. You think that you should probably say more, but you aren’t sure what. You want everything and you want nothing— you want him to move, to fuck you into the couch cushions, and you want him to stay just like this forever with his cock nestled deep inside you.

Another desperate “please,” is what you settle on.

Somehow, miraculously, Daryl knows what you need. You feel his lips on yours, familiar and reassuring. It’s a grounding kiss, brings you back to yourself just enough, leaves you feeling just the right amount of floaty. His tongue joins yours inside your mouth and it sends a rush of arousal through you.

Then he rolls his hips slightly, and you let out the prettiest breath of a moan he’s ever heard. He repeats the movement right away, starting up a slow pace, desperate to hear you make it again— and he’s immediately rewarded when you do. He’d fuck you for hours just to listen to that sound.

“Tha’s it,” He rasps against the shell of your ear. Your hands move down from his hair, seeking the warmth of skin, and you whimper when you’re met with the feeling of cotton against your fingertips. You scramble for contact, slipping your hands up under the hem of his shirt so you can press your palms against the firm, balmy muscle of his chest. Your face morphs into a dopey grin, sweet gasps of “uh–uh” leaving your lips with every thrust of his hips.

“Y’like that? That feel good?” Daryl presses hot kisses to your neck after murmuring the words, making you shiver in pleasure.

“Yes, Daryl.” You breathe out, fingers curling around the sides of his abdomen, gripping on tight and digging crescent moons into his skin. “Please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sunshine.” The hand not supporting himself moves to grope at your breast, roughly kneading at the soft skin, and you moan when his thumb rubs across your nipple–bolts of electricity zip to the very tips of your toes. “Wanna make you feel real good. Make you cum f’me.”

You whimper, squirming, gazing up at him with bleary eyes. He lets out a breathless chuckle at the vacant look of them, though internally affection squeezes at his heart.

“Can you do that, pup? Can you cum for me?” He encourages. Calloused fingertips trail down your body until they’re between your thighs and can rub precise circles over your clit. You let out a moan, squeezing your eyes closed at the intense feeling.

“Yes! Daryl, please.” He keeps going, rubbing your clit with his fingers and pounding into you with his cock, watching your body arch below him as your pleasure mounts.

“Daryl, Daryl, Daryl–” His name becomes a chant, the only word you can fathom, and the needy, reverent way you say it has him groaning into your neck. He never thought he’d hear someone say his name like that.

“Tha’sa girl,” His low voice reverberates through you. “Cum for me, c’mon now.”

Your body lights up like a firecracker. An intense, tingling pleasure that you’ve never experienced takes over you. It’s overwhelming sensation, blinding white ecstasy that knocks the air from your lungs and makes you tighten like a vice around Daryl’s cock– and then, right when it’s about to be too much, it’s numb relief, leaving you floating in soft bliss.

Daryl grunts as he spills into you, the rhythmic clenching of your orgasm sending him over the edge. The warmth of his release further lulls you as you come down from your peak. You let out a content hum.

“Y’alright?” Daryl’s voice is hoarse, rough with sex. You smile, peeling your droopy eyes open to look at him as he pants above you.

“That was unreal,” you murmur, rubbing your hands up and down his balmy sides, still reveling in the feel of his skin. “I see why people get addicted to this stuff.”

“Sex, or weed?” He quips in his usual deadpan, making you giggle.

You pull him down for a quick kiss before replying with a shrug. “Both, I guess. But only if it’s sex with you.”

“Ain’t you sweet.” He sounds sarcastic, like he’s teasing, but you know he means it deep down by the way he tenderly rubs his thumb over your lower lip and looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

He works an arm under you so he can roll you both over, letting you settle atop him, his softening cock still inside you. You let your eyes fall closed, head still pleasantly fuzzy. You hum as peace washes over you.

“Don’t wanna get cleaned up.” You murmur. Daryl lets out a satisfied huff and folds an arm behind his head. His other hand moves up and down your back in an absentminded soothing motion that has you melting into him.

“Me neither.” He watches you for a moment, so relaxed atop his chest. He closes his own eyes. “We’ll stay like this awhile.”

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon/reader #twd #daryl twd #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead smut #norman reedus

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nectardaddy · 7 days

Text

aftermath - higuruma hiromi

cw: blood, death, homicide, manga spoilers (I mean, if you know who tf he is you're fine tbh), language

notes: established relationship, gender neutral, inspired by if I killed someone for you by alec benjamin (was gonna put the song in but I refuse to put the gigantic eyesore that tumblr auto gives me and idk how to fix it)

synopsis: how should one react when their lover shows up on their doorstep covered in blood?

You didn't mean for your breath to hitch in your throat so violently, creating an audible gasp from the air that lodged itself. Your fingers gripping the edge of your opened door with a grasp so desperate your hand already began to ache. Nails digging into the hard wood as you tried to decipher the pressing image before you.

"Hiromi-" you choked out. Voice wavering as his presence alone was enough to make your knees buckle. Dark, unwavering eyes boring into you. Seemingly nothing within them but a glimmer of something primal, macabre, and- desperate. You weren't a stranger to the unyielding looks, always transfixed on something well beyond his reach, but this was different. A look of a monster, and his attire following suit.

He was usually a well dressed, dapper man. But as he stood upon your doorstep, your opinion flipped instantaneously. A ruffled, crumbled suit jacket littered with dark blotches around the cuff, his white shirt underneath being the tell tale sign of what the mysterious blots were. A stark contrast, red on white, staining the previously ironed shirt right down to the threads. Cheeks splattered with the same red, a large spill just under his eye, like he had tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe his face. "What have you done?" You whispered, speaking softly as if it would untangle you from seeing him so heinous.

"Can I come in?" A gruff, almost uncaring, voice in comparison to your own. You didn't know why you hurriedly nodded, why you shifted out of the way for him to enter your home, why you thought letting this man back into your home was a good idea. It was against your better judgment, but you wracked your brain about the thought of 'there has to be a good reason.' This was the man you loved after all, not a cold hearted killer, or so you came to believe.

Hearing the door click shut and the lock engage, his eyes scanned his surroundings before returning to you. Tired eyes once again looking into you, almost trying to see through you with the intensity of it. "I killed them," he said bluntly, without regard and without further context. His words made your shoulders slump, your body creating shivers as his words hit you so profoundly.

"Who?" Was all you managed to ask, the word escaping your lips so quietly you hoped he would be able to hear it at all. Not asking why, not asking where or when. Who.

"The retrial was today," he said simply. It was all you needed, an impactful statement to which your eyes widened and your mouth opened. Quickly shutting it as no words were found on the tip of your tongue, your throat suddenly dry at the revelation, you could only stare. Looking over him to find any sort of answer, your eyes stopping at the collar of his suit jacket. There once was a small sunflower pin on the lapel, one you had gifted him years ago to replace the former. It was gone. It came off. Could the man you love really be so violent? So much so his beloved pin was ripped from him in the heat of the moment?

You couldn't say what had possessed you to step closer to the man, your lover, the murderer. Each step becoming easier as you neared him, stopping just before him and looking up. So close you could smell the gruesome, irony twinge mingling with the scent of his cologne. It made you nauseous, wanting nothing more than to spill your guts right then and there. But you swallowed hard and forced yourself to look upon the man who had sworn he'd love you to the end of his days. "Are you alright?"

A man of his situation might have said no, should have said no. "I've never felt better," he answered honestly. Looking down at you with a ghost of a smile, a mind fraying image now engraved in your psyche. Your fingers reached for his shoulders, letting out a shaky breath as your hands came in contact with him. It was damp.

"Oh my god," you spoke, forcing yourself to close your eyes at the sensation. You feared to lift your hands to what you would see on your palms, subconsciously pushing down the thoughts to the deepest part of your mind. "Oh my fucking god," you repeated, unable to form a single coherent thought as you couldn't stop yourself from circling back to the feeling.

But the hand, drenched in the same crimson, that gently touched your cheek made your eyes snap open and you inhaled sharply. There was blood on his hands, staining his fingers in sin so much so it was under his nails. That blood was now on you, ripping your stomach right out of your body as you wanted to heave. Desperately searching his features for any sort of answer, but only coming to the same conclusion.

The man you loved killed two people - and liked it.

oh I'm definitely making a part 2 are you kidding??? I wrote this shit in an hour that's a new fucking record for me

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #higuruma hiromi #hiromi higuruma #higuruma hiromi x reader #higuruma x reader #jjk higuruma #hiromi higuruma x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #tw blood #tw death #tw homicide #tw murder #jjk spoilers

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s-4pphics · 1 year

Text

scent of the pine. 5 (e.w)

*takes off grad cap* alright . here we go.

wc;cw: 17.1k everybody died, sistersbestfriend!ellie, guitarist/producer!ellie, violinist!oc, age gap(three years), all ocs r blackcoded, SMUT!! MDNI!!!, phone sex, masturbation, mean ellie, weed alcohol nics yall know wassup, dubcon, virginity loss, masochism LOL, light bondage, dirty talk, ASSSPLAAAYYY😝, dp, mult. orgasms, subspace and drop, squirting, slapping(face ass tits pussy lol), toys, slight angst but also fluff, just lots of spit n cum

You’ve been very gloomy these past couple of months.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about Ellie since you left her home that morning, up until you and Arya jumped on the train to return to campus.

You’d never be able to express to Arya how much you appreciated her presence: she allowed you to cry, whine, pout, and sniffle about how much you missed Ellie, and she comforted you through all of it with gentle whispers of you’re gonna be fine, bitch! you’re gonna get piped down soon! I promise! Although you felt a bit selfish dumping your girl problems on her, she never made you feel guilty and justified that you always listened to her ramble about her hook-ups and high rambles. The only time she’d ever complained about anything related to your sorrowful monologues about missing Ellie’s laugh and smile and tongue was when you two had to work on your Music & Production Theory assignment (I’m gonna kill you if we fail and you’ll die dickless! Don’t play with me!).

…But other than that, she’s been so sweet!

Ellie has also been keeping in touch ever since you left. She sent you snaps of Duchess zooming around the house, her meals for the day, and three-second voice memos of her new project she was working on. You knew that she’d been flying back and forth to California and had a packed schedule with her producer friends whenever she was there, but your heart couldn’t help but turn gray when you wouldn’t hear from her for a few days.

Now it's March, and you and Arya are sitting on the floor as you glared searing holes into your phone. Ellie sent you a text when you were in class earlier saying that she missed your voice and was going to call you the second she had the opportunity. And you weren’t going to miss it. Ellie was worth wasting your Saturday night on!

“I’m not gonna lie girl,” Arya's voice cut through your intense phone-staring. “I’ve definitely had my dickmatized moments but you’re kinda crazy.”

You looked up at Arya as she carefully packed her blunt to get ready for her smoke sesh with her friends, concerned look on her face. It made you frown.

“What, why? What’d I do?” You asked with your brows pulled down.

And before you could hear her answer, you got a notification. You nearly snapped your wrists at the speed your hands flew to grab your phone to see if it was Ellie, your eyes bulging at your screen, only to see that your sister snapped you. You sighed in slight disappointment before opening it.

You ignored Arya’s snickering.

Your sister sent you a picture of her with hairspray and a lighter in her hand with a caption IM MOVING TF OUT I CANT TAKE THIS SHIT NO MORE BUGS R EVERYWHERE WHAT IN THE FUCK.

You couldn’t hold in your laugh as you snapped her back before Arya stood and went to the bathroom with a change of clothes in hand.

You heard the shower turn on as you got up and onto your bed to mindlessly scroll through Twitter.

After ten minutes of scrolling through a Best Euphoria Character breakdown thread, you got a text from Ellie, and you nearly squealed in excitement.

hiiii im sorry i havent been able to b on my phone like that :( been super busy with this sample

i just wanted 2 let u know that i might have 2 call u another time we still have a bunch of layering to do for this track n we’re on a timer. i miss u so fucking bad

You couldn’t ignore the sadness in your chest, but you texted back understandingly anyway.

it’s ok :( i miss u too. miss ur voice :(

Her reply bubble immediately popped up.

i know baby fuckkkk i miss ur voice so fucking bad im ab to start asking 4 daily voice memos 🤨

You smiled at your screen so wide.

LOOOOOOOL ur annoying

You typed and sent a follow up before she could.

go back 2 work 🥰🥰

kiss :(

mwah

mwah mwah mwah

You put your phone on your chest, and you couldn’t stop the smile that grew on your face. She made you so, so happy.

The bathroom door opened, steam from the warm water exiting the room along with a towel-clad Arya.

“What you cheesin’ so hard for, girl?” She said as she grabbed her edge control off her desk.

“Nothin’,” you said with a dreamy sigh as you stared off past her.

“…Uh huh, I’m heading out soon, I’ll be back late tonight, so don’t wait up.” She said with a smirk.

“Don’t forget to send me your location,” you reminded her.

She let out a quick course, baby before she went back into the bathroom.

You went back to scrolling through Twitter until your eyelids got heavy. A comfortably dressed Arya—she’s definitely getting some— kissed your forehead and dimmed your dorm lights before she left, and you dozed off.

You jolted awake as Rotation blasted in your ears. You drowsily picked your phone up and saw a el:3🌲 and 2:34AM across your home screen.

You perked up immediately to answer, sitting up so fast that you went lightheaded for a second.

“Hello?”

“Hi, you,” Ellie’s light voice rang through the phone. “Were you sleep? M’sorry, we can talk la— “

“No! No, I’m up, I was just napping, hi,” you said as you grinned softly at her laugh, laying on your back. “You’re up late. Did you guys finish?”

“No, but we were exhausted, so we called off for the night. And one of my partners kept rambling about this girl he needed to call, so,” Her voice was already making you squirm. Thank god she couldn’t see you. “But I wanted to talk to you, couldn’t help myself.”

“Oh my god, you’re so obsessed, damn,” you said with a giggle.

“Fuuuuck yeah, sooo obsessed, need to drink your bath water, shit, I think I’m dying!” she said in an overly desperate, dried out tone, making you laugh harder.

Both of your laughs calmed down before she started talking, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“Umm…” She sounded a bit nervous, and it instantly made you antsy. “I know you’re not gonna be back for a couple weeks or whatever, but I just… like I was gonna ask if you wanted to do something, like just the two of us…”

And a sly grin grew on your face. “Ellie… are you asking me out, right now?”

The other line was silent as you heard her move around and sigh before she spoke. “…This was literally the worst way to ask a girl out, fuck, m’sorry— “

You cut through her jittery rambles. “Ellie, stop apologizing! That’s so cute! Of course, I’ll go out with you!”

You heard her release a deep breath as she said, “Fuck, thank god, holy shit, I was so nervous. It’s been so long since I’ve done that. Almost shoved my vape down my throat.”

You laughed as your heart beat quickened. “You really gonna wine and dine me when I come home? We’re that serious?”

“Ohhh, we're that serious, you're eating nothing but lobster and pasta when I see you, swear to god.”

You snorted at her, “Okay, sugar daddy, get me a new car while you're at it. With insurance.”

“Anything you want, baby.” She said with a sleazy laugh.

You hummed at her offer in attempts to mask the pounding of your heart, but she mocked you, humming back at you in a higher tone.

“Shut up! I’m just thinking!”

“Oh, yeah? About what?”

You suddenly felt shy as her voice lowered. It was so much deeper. “Just… just you, I guess, I dunno, miss you.”

You heard her shuffle again before she asked softly, a smirk evident in her tone, “You miss me?”

You let out a quiet, but eager mhm! as your tummy swirled with want.

You listened to her gentle breathing before she asked, “Your roomie home?”

And your heartbeat picked up, your eyes fluttering as your blinking slowed.

“N-no, she’s gone.”

“Then lay down for me, baby.”

You instantly fell on your back, your scarfed head hitting your silk pillows. Your face was boiling hot, “I am.”

“You sound nervous, you good?” she asked you gently.

“M’great, just… yeah, I’m okay, want you to keep talking.”

“Stop me whenever, you understand?” Her tone was much more serious, and it made your thighs clench, your boyshorts growing wetter.

You whined out a uhhuh!, but she corrected you immediately, “Say you understand.”

“I understand! I get it, El!” Fuck, you wished she were here to touch you. To scold you in person.

You heard giggling and more shuffling around through the speaker, “You gotta shirt on?”

“Mhm.”

She chuckled lightly, “Take it off, take off everything while you're at it.”

Your heartbeat spiked, “But Arya might come back.”

“That’s why you have a blanket, honey.”

…Fair.

You quickly set your phone on your pillow, reaching for the hem of your shirt, lifting it up to pull it over your head, tossing it to the floor. You arched your ass up to pull your boyshorts off and kicked them to the foot of your bed. You reached for your phone again.

“Okay, m’ready now.”

“Such a cutie,” she cooed at you. You could hear the grin through her words. “Gonna make you cum so hard the second I get my hands on you.”

You whimpered into the speaker as your walls squeezed. Fuck, fuckfuck.

“You make me go fuckin’ crazy, can’t stop thinking about you.”

“M-me, too.”

“Yeah? What d’you think about?”

Say it! your brain yelled at you. She already knows you’re a slut, just say what you want!

“...Umm…”

“Talk to me, baby, about anything you want.”

You gulped, heart pounding in your ears, “Your… your hands? They’re… really nice.”

“Yeah? What about ‘em is nice?”

“Ellie…”

“Like when they touch you all over, when they hold you down?”

“Yes,” you barely whispered as your free hand traveled down your body. Not touching anywhere specifically, just roaming.

“Know you do, they get you so fuckin’ hot,” She breathed through the line. “Wanna touch yourself?”

“Yeah, w’na so bad.”

“Say please.”

“Ellieee— “

She cut off your embarrassed whines with a nastily casual tone, “I'll hang up right now. Ask nicely.”

You balled your traveling hand up in a fist as you pleaded with an upset pout, “Please, Ellie.”

“Please what.”

“… Please help me?”

“….”

“C’mon Ellie! Please make me cum! I wanna cum!”

Her condescending laugh pierced through your ears, “Touch those pretty fuckin’ tits since I didn’t get to before you left.”

You moaned out as your pointer finger and thumb rolled your stiffened nipple as you squirmed.

“They’re so fucking sensitive, got my sheets so wet when I played with ‘em. Wan’em in my mouth again, shit.”

You pulled at your other nipple, and you let out a moan into the speaker.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, miss you so fucking bad.”

“Miss you so much, Ellie, can’t wait t’see you.” You cried out quietly. Your pussy was clenching with need.

“Touch your pussy, babygirl, rub your clit. Get it nice and wet f’me.”

You followed her instructions at a lightning speed, spreading your legs wider and reaching your hand all the way down to bring your slick to your clit. Your breathing picked up as you slowly rubbed it into your bud, hips jerking.

“Tell me how wet it is,” you could hear how shaky her voice was getting, breathing labored. She was touching herself to you touching yourself, and it was making you wetter. It made you burn. It made you want to get her there.

“M’really wet, El,” you mewled out to her, trying to ignore your bashfulness.

“Yeah? S’dripping on your bed like it did on mine?”

“Shit, yes, I feel it.”

“Fuuuck, bet it’s so fucking tight, gonna break that pretty pussy in so good.”

“Want you to. Want you inside me s’bad, please.”

“Gonna give you whatever you want, promise, shit.”

You felt that feeling coming over you before you could think, “Think m’gonna cum, baby—“

“Already? Always cum so fucking quick—“

“I-I just miss you!”

“Then cum for me, love.”

“G’na, daddy!” You heard her groan at the name.

“Fuuuuck!” You heard the wet sounds from her pussy over her groans and whines of your name, and that swelling feeling in your gut exploded.

All you could get out was a garbled cumming! as your thighs shook in your pleasure, your fingers quickly rubbing your clit as your hips bucked towards the friction. It felt so much better because you knew she was listening.

“Don’t fucking stop, you’re gonna cum again.” She scolded when your fingers slowed and your breathing slowed.

“E-Ellieee—!”

“You wanted to cum so bad, right? Then fucking cum, fuck that pussy,” she must’ve been close: her breathing was heavier and shaky, the wet sounds from her side increasing.

You put your phone on speaker and set it on your pillow, propping yourself up on your elbow so you could fuck yourself easier. You’ve never successfully made yourself cum like this, but you slid your middle finger in experimentally anyway. You released a light gasp at the stretch. You were so soft and slippery on the inside, your clit twitching as you wiggled around in search for that spot that Ellie found so easily.

“D-Do me a favor?” she gasped out to you.

“U-Uh huh?”

She let out a breathy laugh, “Put your pussy on the phone so I can nut?”

You laughed with her, shaking your head as you grabbed it with your free hand. You placed it between your legs, thrusting your finger in and out, “Can you hear it?”

“Yeah, babe, fuck.”

You let out a moan with her, slowly fucking yourself and bringing your other hand over to rub your clit, hips jolting at the sensitivity. You both were moaning each other's name as you chased your pleasure in unison. You let out a loud moan when you prodded that squishy spot that made you black out the last time you saw Ellie. You hit it as hard as you could, pussy squelching around your fingers and belly swirling.

“Gonna make me cum, shit, sounds so fucking hot,” she whined out in between heavy pants.

“Cum with me, El? Please?” You rubbed your clit faster.

“Gonnagonna, fuck, m’so close—!”

You let out a shout of her name as it hit you, your fingers trapped between the tight grip of your walls. You rubbed your clit as you grinded into your pussy, your head falling back as your hips rocked back and forth to ride it out. You tried to quiet your wails as Ellie came with you, letting out obscenities while she talked you through it. You could hear how fast her fingers were moving and it made another wave wash over you, your cunt giving one last bone-crushing squeeze as its twitching calmed.

You pulled your drenched fingers out and slowly rubbed your clit as you came down, listening to Ellie’s quieting gasps of pleasure. You reached to grab a couple tissues from your work desk, wiping your fingers and pussy before grabbing your phone to set on your pillow. You heard her shuffle before she spoke.

“You okay, babe?”

“Yeah… wish you were here,” you answered with a pout.

“I know, a couple more weeks’n I’m all yours.”

“S’all I’m thinking about,” you said gently. “Go get some rest.”

“Don’t want you to gooooo,” you heard her pouting. It made your heart skip. “Stay on the phone with me?

“Don’t you have to get up early tomorrow?”

“…Yeah…”

“Right. You had a long day, go to bed.” Even though the sound of her breathing would lull you to sleep faster, you could only imagine how drained she must’ve been.

“Fine,” you heard her sigh in resignation.

“Sleep well,” you cheesed widely.

“I’ll try, promise. Mmmmwaaah!” she sent a goofy kiss through the speaker. You sent one back.

“Night, El.”

“Night, baby.”

You hung up your line, throwing your phone on your pillow as you sat up to go to the bathroom.

You missed her scent so much.

Your sister was very in love. And lonely.

It’s been almost three weeks since she’s seen Isaiah.

She was typically good at keeping her sneaky links on the low, only calling them to fulfill her needs in the middle of the night, buy her drinks, smoke her the fuck out whenever she wanted, but she never expected to miss one of them or wait for their calls. Fuck time zones!

When Isaiah and your sister first started hooking up, it started off normal. Quick, but nastily satisfying fucks in hotel rooms (that he paid for, city girl shit), smashing in his rental car before his studio session, in her car before she went to work; it was strictly sexual for months, and she was fine with him constantly flying back and forth!

Until he returned from California with a new strain that he said reminded him of her. She damn near bought a ring to propose to him herself. He smoked her out, she had one of the best highs of her life, and he gave her the craziest head on her couch, how could she not want him?!

And now he’s gone, making beats in California again as she sat and thought about his voice. His scent.

Why did California always keep the most important people away from her?!

Thinking about that city always gives her a headache. She ignited the packed bowl of her pipe, staring holes into the black screen of her phone as she waited for his call.

You were editing another compilation of you playing all four seasons of Vivaldi as Arya snored on your shoulder. Your subs were going to eat this one up!

The train Wi-Fi was kicking your ass and was this close to fucking up your render, but you were managing.

You stretched your wrists, and you leaned back from your small tray table, resting against your head against the rest and grabbing your phone.

You got a text from Ellie!

hiiiii baby can’t wait 2 c u

got smth cute planned :)

You didn’t notice the smile that spread on your face as you typed.

so excited :( wanna smell u so bad

You were about to set your phone down, but a text bubble popped up.

yeah? wna smell u too

gonna shove my nose in that pussy and inhale 😛

IMMA EAT IT RAAAHH

Your entire body flushed hot as you shook your head.

AYOOOOO??

UR FUCKDIGNNSTUPIDD GET OFF MY PHONE

LFMAKOAAOOAAO

kissie b4 i go? :(

mwahmwahmwah

mmmmmwwah

You set your phone down as you cheesed dumbly.

You wished this train would hurry the fuck up!

Your mom had come to pick you and Arya up from the station with slices of her freshly baked pineapple upside-down cake, kisses, and strong hugs. You never got used to being away from her months at a time; You'd missed her warm embrace so much.

You had a couple of days to yourself before you and Ellie's first date and… just thinking about it made your heart beat faster.

She’d texted you when you got home, telling you to dress up in something fancy. Would she buy you a fancy dinner? Take you to an art gallery? A night on the town in the city? The possibilities were endless with her!

Arya had been telling you that you needed to buy some… things for when the two of you get “freak nasty”, so she offered to drive you to the mall (no more fruit panties, you're an adult now!, she’d scolded you). While you were excited for what happened after your date, you didn’t want it to be narrowed down to that; You loved spending time with Ellie. You just got her back in your life, and you wanted to appreciate every moment that you could get with her when she wasn't working. You felt so happy when she was around.

… But of course, Arya wasn’t hearing that.

“Girl, you can save all that sappy shit for the wedding, do you want crotchless panties under your—“ She paused her waving of the… very exposed pair of pink underwear as she remembered something. “Oh fuck, you don’t have a dress!”

“…I was thinking about just wearing my prom dr— “

“Don’t even finish that fuckin’ sentence, are you serious?! Your prom dress? On your first date? You needa be slapped for that!” She said, irritated as she glared at you. You glared back at her attitude, now just as annoyed.

“What do you expect me to do?! I’m not… I’m not like you guys, okay? This typa shit is easy for y’all. You know how hard it is for me to… do things like this. Why do you think I’ve been single this whole time?!” You said with a hurt frown.

You knew she never meant any harm whenever she scolded you about your romantic situations, —or lack thereof—but that didn’t mean it hurt your feelings any less. You’re just starting to come into yourself and your appearance, and you need her, and everyone else, to be patient with you.

Arya must’ve sensed the pain and discomfort in your voice because her glare slowly fell, a gentle replacement immediately overtaking her expression. She set the panties back down onto the display table and grabbed your shoulders.

“M’sorry babe, okay?” She said softly, and you nodded as you looked off into the distance in rigid forgiveness; You knew she didn’t like that. “Look at me.”

Your eyes slowly met hers before she quietly spoke. “I’m sorry, I want the best for you, that’s all.”

She continued as your eyes watered. Just a little glisten! “You’re such a beautiful person—inside’n out and I want you to feel that way, even more so now because of that dick-slangin’ girlfriend of yours!”

“You’re annoying,” you joked as you laughed quietly, making her smile.

“It’s true! You’re my baby’n I love you.”

“Love you,” you mumbled into her shoulder as she pulled you into a tight hug, pressing a light kiss to the side of your head before pulling back.

She spun around and pointed towards the 30% off on all thongs! sign at the front of the store.

“Can you buy one, at least?” she said in half-joking exasperation, pout on her face.

“…Sure,” You relented with a sigh. “I might not wear it for the date, though!”

“That’s fine, mama! Just wanna make sure you got one for safe keeping!” She said slyly as she stuck her tongue out.

You shook your head as you made your way over to the rack, eyeing the pine green thong on the mannequin.

Two days passed and you were getting ready for your first date! You couldn’t believe it!

After Arya drove the two of you to the airport to pick up Kris and Starr, they’d spent the night at your place so they could see you off before Ellie came to pick you up.

Starr helped you wax your eyebrows and legs: she offered to wax your cooch, but you were scared and a little embarrassed at the thought of your friends seeing you so… exposed. You knew your friends didn’t care about seeing you naked, but you were still a bit sheltered with them. I’ll stick to my razor! you'd said.

Kris was pressing your hair while Arya helped you glue your lashes on as you frantically checked the time with a bouncy knee. 6:33… 6:34… 6:36!

Even though Ellie said that your reservation was at seven-thirty, you still needed to get dressed, had to count for the drive, potential stops for gas… and what if there was an accident on the road and it made you both late… oh, god what if you both caused the accident—!

“Bro, can you calm the hell down— “

“Y’know, I’m getting really sick of y’all asking the girl with anxiety to calm down—!”

“Stop moving and hold your ear down!”

You thanked god your mom was out on a wine night; She didn’t need her night ruined with you and your friends bickering.

You grabbed your ear in a tight downward pinch with a harsh sigh, moving it so Kris could straighten your baby hairs. Even with all this frantic movement from everyone in the room, they made it clear that they didn’t want you to see your final look until the very end, blocking all mirrors available with their bodies.

After fifteen minutes of… pure chaos, your hair laid flat, and your face was beat. You pressed kisses all over your friends’ faces with breathy iloveyouthankyou’s before grabbing your dress and undergarments to sprint to your bathroom, making sure not to look at yourself even though you desperately wanted to.

You shut the door with a deep and heavy exhale. You looked at your dress with pounding in your ears: it was a floor length, black velvet maxi dress with lace detailed sleeves. It accentuated your bust so a little cleavage was showing (I, personally, would have my nipples out, but this is cute, too! you recalled Arya saying in the dressing room); It was so… classy. You felt like an adult when you tried it on. You hope Ellie likes it.

You shook off your insecurities before they could terrorize you and removed your tee, underwear, and sweatpants. You put your pine green, lacy strapless bra on with the thong to match, adjusting it so… your pussy could fucking breathe how do people wear this shit everywhere they go!

You grabbed your dress and stepped into it, carefully pulling it up and over your shoulders. You straightened it out with your hand, making sure no wrinkles were in it before you took a breath, opened the door, and walked out to your bedroom.

Starr was the first one you made eye-contact with and she damn near fell out of your desk chair and onto the floor. Your eyes widened as the other two turned with excited gasps and shrieks.

“OH MY FUCKIN’ GOD WHAT THEFUCK—!”

“You’re so fucking fine, holy shit—!”

“If it don’t work out with ol’ girl, you know where to find me—!”

You shook your head at them before dropping your gaze to your floor so that they couldn’t see your small smile, your face flushed, “Okay, okay, can I look now?”

“Yeah baby, turn around!” Kris said excitedly as she grabbed your shoulders with an encouraging squeeze.

You spun around and was immediately met with someone who… did not look like you. At all. Even your brain was too stunned to speak. What the fuck?

The girls' excited expressions slowly dropped when they witnessed your shocked reaction, but you weren’t upset at all. Just… surprised. In a good way.

“What’s the matter, honey?” Kris asked you gently from behind with concerned eyes, meeting yours in the mirror.

“…I’m just really— “

THROW IT IN ROTATION! (THR—)

You jumped towards your phone on your dresser, nearly knocking your lamp off it. You answered immediately when you saw who it was.

“Hello?”

“Hiiiii, m’downstairs!” Ellie said giddily, and your spirit brightened. You smiled widely, and the girls followed.

“I’m coming down right now, just needa put my shoes on!”

“Ok, is it fine if I come in for a sec or?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. The girls wanna meet you!” And they nodded eagerly in agreement.

“… Fuck, now I’m scared.”

“Don’t be! They’re so sweet, c’mon.”

“K, gimme a sec, mmmmmwah!” she said goofily, you sending one back just as dopily before you ended the call.

“Y’all gay as shit,” Starr said with a headshake, making the other girls snicker and jump in excitement.

You, heels in hand, and your friends nearly jumped down the staircase to rip the front door off the hinges.

The minute your eyes connected with Ellie’s, you had to stop yourself from dropping to your knees and doing something crazy. Fuck.

She was dressed in an all-black suit with a… fucking turtleneck underneath her jacket. Her sleeves were rolled up so her forearm tattoo was exposed. She had…Cuban links around her neck and wrists. Her hair was cut into a mullet—when the fuck did that happen, holy shit?!— and the two slits in her brow were more prominent. You noticed one of her hands was behind her back, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to care about what she was hiding. You were, by all means, ready to fuck right now. You nearly said fuck the date.

And by the darkening of her eyes as she took you in from head to toe, you could tell she was ready, too.

“…Hey,” she said to all of you, but she kept eye contact with you. You stared back.

“Hi! Nice to finally meet you, I’m Arya,” your best friend interrupted as she stuck her hand out towards your date. Her eyes left yours to politely greet your friends with cute smiles and handshakes.

And then she turned to you, bringing her hidden arm around to hand you a burgundy sunflower wrapped in gold and pink ribbons and plastic. Evening sun!

She stepped inside and into your space—she always smelled so fucking good! — as you took it from her hand with a gentle thank you. Her cheeks were so red as she whispered back of course before planting a soft kiss to your lips. You heard your friends squeal quietly. Neither of you cared, sucked into your own little universe.

“Ready?” she whispered. You nodded excitedly with a toothy grin, stepping into your heels. She smiled back before taking your hand in hers.

“Oh fuck, wait a second!” Kris said loudly before running upstairs. You looked at your two friends, confused. Starr smirked as Arya shrugged.

Kris came running back down the stairs with a small backpack in her hand, giving it to you.

“Packed you some… things. Might not see you for a few days,” she said slyly as she winked, causing Starr to snicker. What the hell was in this bag?

“Be careful with our little baby, now! She’s fragile!” Starr called out.

“Will do, don’t worry,” Ellie replied with a light laugh before turning to you to whisper, “C’mon, baby.”

“Don’t forget to lock the door before you guys head out, keys under the mat,” you turned to say to your friends as you slowly walked out. “I love y’all!”

Shouts of love you! and be safe! rung through your ears before you gently shut the door. Your back was immediately pressed up against it before you could think, Ellie craning her neck to connect your lips in a hot kiss. Your knees went weak.

She pulled away before you could protest, looking you up and down, “Had to do that, fuck, you look gorgeous.” Your cheeks were so hot as you mumbled a quiet you, too!

“Think I’m gorgeous?” She hummed out with a small smile. You saw her cheeks shine a darker shade of pink.

You nodded with an mhm!, wrapping your arms around her neck to pull her in for another kiss. She grabbed your forearms and moved back with a shake of her head.

“Okay. No more bullshit, we’re classy tonight!” She said with a clap of her hands.

“Just one more,” you shook your head with a pout as you attempted to move her closer.

You shut your eyes when you saw her face move closer to yours before you heard her whisper a no against your lips.

“C’mon, we’re gonna be late,” She said with a foxy grin. She took your hand in hers to lead you to her… sleek ass car, fucking shit!

The heartbeat in your ears nearly deafened you.

The restaurant was… impeccable. You thought Cheesecake Factory was fancy; They were nothing compared to this spot. It was dimly lit, crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, tables draped in a black cloth, marble plates, candles, bottles of champagne… This is wealth!

Ellie hadn’t let your hand go the entire car ride, all the way up until you reached the front desk to confirm your reservation. You both were led to an exclusive spot on the second-floor outdoor balcony so that the two of you were alone. You teared up at the sight in front of you.

Your small section was filled with lit lanterns, the decorative trees around your table wrapped in fairy lights, and your table was surrounded with rose petals. There was even a small flowerpot with an evening sun sticking out of it. The gesture was so simple, but your eyes watered with gratitude. You couldn’t believe she organized this for you.

“Like it?” She sounded so nervous next to you. You turned to face her and nodded with a sniffle.

“Such a crybaby, jesus,” she mumbled with a shaky laugh, reaching towards a napkin on the table to hand to you. You dabbed your eyes, minding your liner.

“This is so sweet, Ellie, oh my god,” you watched her expression fill with affection and doting before she pulled you in to kiss your forehead as she led you over to the table.

She grabbed the back of your chair to pull it out for you with an over-exaggerated call of m’lady!, ushering you to sit down. You laughed wetly before you sat with a thank you!

“I wasn’t joking when I said you can get whatever you want,” She stated as she circled the small table to get to her seat. “I’ll buy this place out if you ask, don’t give a fuck.”

Fuckfuckfuck—!

“Ellie, this is prettiest place I’ve ever fucking been in, oh my god!” You said as you glanced around the room.

“Ehhh, it’s alright,” she said with a cocky smirk, shrugging as she shook her jacket off her shoulders. You tried not to look at her toned arms too closely as you rolled your eyes. “Want some wine?”

“Is… is that allowed?”

“… It is tonight, shit— “

A man dressed in a black shirt, slacks, and apron cut her off with an introduction as your server, bowing his head in greeting. You noticed how he kept returning his gaze to you as he described the specials, but you paid it no extra mind.

After Ellie asked for the most expensive wine, the server departed with a stiff nod in her direction. You noticed her intense gaze as she watched him leave.

“You okay?” you asked gently. She silently shook her head yes before reaching out to you to grab your hand, playing with your fingers.

Hm. That was weird.

Dinner was fucking incredible. Shrimps should’ve never been called the “roaches of the sea”, they tasted too good!

You were two glasses of wine in, —nursing your third—and you were starting to feel warm and fuzzy, a smile permanently painted on your face as Ellie went on about astrology; You didn’t know what the fuck a mercury retrograde was, but you supported anything that kept that impassioned look in her eyes! She looked so excited!

“—that fucker thought that because I’m a fucking Libra I wasn’t gonna say anything. Like, I literally have an Aquarius rising, you cunt! I’ll fuckin’ run you ov— “

“How’s everything?”

You looked to your side and made eye contact with your server, you sipped from your glass as you eagerly nodded, “Oh my god, it was fucking incredible. Who knew shrimps could be that goddamn huge! Are we allowed to say bad words in here?!”

He laughed while nodding, “Yes ma’am, you’re allowed to do whatever you want in here. Would you like any dessert with the rest of your wine?”

“Yes, please!” You got giddy at the mention of sweets, “I saw this chocolate molten lava cake lookin’ thing on the menu, but there was no ice cream on top. Can y’all… à la mode it?”

“Course we can, the Chocolate Fondant with ice cream!” He said as he pulled out his notepad from his apron pocket, scribbling before turning to Ellie. You noticed how tense she looked: she was sitting back in her chair with her legs crossed, her finger tapping on the arm rest, and her shoulders were stiff. You didn’t comment on it, but something was off. “And for you?”

She didn’t answer, and her lack of response concerned you. You reached over to gently place your hand on top of her… clenched fist on the table, “El? You don’t have to get a whole one. You wanna share with me?”

She hadn’t looked at you since he arrived, though: she continued to glare at the waiter, and when you turned to look at him, you saw him glare at her. What the hell?

“We’re gonna get that to go, actually.” She demanded, her gaze sharp like knives. You recognized that tone of hers instantly. She was this close to swinging. Oh no.

“I think that would be best. Cash or card?” He snarked. You whipped your head to glare at his tone.

You felt the table shake as Ellie moved to stand. You jumped up and stood in front of her—almost breaking your damn ankle in these heels— before she could lunge at the waiter, letting out soft warnings of nononono as you blocked her off. This was an elitist establishment; you’re not trying to get arrested! The waiter scoffed and stomped off.

You watched Ellie seethe in her chair as she pulled her wallet out of her slack pocket, throwing a stack of hundreds on the table before grabbing her jacket. She wrapped her hand around yours before pulling you towards the restaurant's staircase.

She harshly pushed the doors of the restaurant open to lead you to the parking garage. You weren’t having it, though.

“Ellie! Ellie, wait! What the hell just happened?” You asked, grabbing her wrist with your free hand to stop her pacing.

“Doesn’t matter— “

“Yes, it does!” You said louder as you yanked your hand from hers. You grabbed her flushed face in your hands, but she wasn’t looking at you. She just continued to whisper obscenities under her breath.

“Baby, look at me please, talk to me,” you said gently, rubbing her cheeks with your thumbs in an attempt to soothe her.

She finally looked down at you, before looking around again, “Let’s get in the car first, c’mon.”

You released her face from your grasp with a nod, letting her guide you.

She let out a deep sigh when she shut her door. You leaned over to rub her knee comfortingly.

She looked down at your hand as her expression softened, “M’sorry, I— “

You shook your head, “It’s okay, just, what was that? I’m so confused right now—”

“Motherfucker wouldn’t stop glaring at me, pissed me the fuck off,” She said between grit teeth. “Kept lookin’ at you, the fuck was he smiling so hard for anyway—“

“A-at me?”

“Yes, at you,” She said like it was obvious. Your brows furrowed in confusion. “The bastard almost broke his neck trying to show you the menu, ohhh of course I'll put ice cream on the chocolate fountain, sexy, I'll make sure the chocolate’s extra hot for you, like what the fuck— “

You couldn’t hold in your laughter at her exaggerated impressions, and you felt her relax as she scoffed a laugh out. You watched as she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her mint vape, pulling from it. She turned her head to blow the smoke away from your face. You leaned over the center console, grabbing the side of her face to turn towards you. You planted soft kisses to her cheek in between your chuckles as she shook her head, licking her chapped lips.

“Dinner was really good,” you said in between kisses.

She hummed before she sighed, “Sorry I ruined it, you didn’t even get your chocolate fountain.”

You giggled, “Fondant, baby.”

She grumbled out a whatever, making you laugh harder, “I had so much fun, El, love spending time with you.”

She turned her face towards yours to whisper, “Me too babe. Missed you so much.”

“You smell so fucking good,” you whispered against her mouth before you could think.

“Yeah?” You felt her smirk.

You hummed in agreement before pressing your mouth to hers. She instantly reciprocated, turning her body so she could place a hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer. The kiss deepened, her tongue swiping against your bottom lip before she sucked on it. You let out a whine when her tongue licked into your mouth. Tongueringtongueringtongueri—

But then she pulled away. You followed her mouth with yours, making her smile.

“Let’s go home.”

You nodded so hard, you almost snapped your neck.

The minute you stepped foot into Ellie’s place, her mouth was on yours.

Her strong hands were gripping your hips, your arms around her neck as you moaned in her mouth.

Jinglejinglejinglejingle—

You pulled away from her and turned the second you heard Duchess coming, her small, fluffy body descending the stairs. You pushed Ellie’s grabby, traveling hands away.

“Baby! Oh my god! I missed you so much!” You squealed in excitement as you rushed over to her as quickly as your heeled feet would allow. She started purring and rubbing against your leg. You bent over to pet her little head as she nuzzled into your hand.

“You really chose her over me, wow, okay,” Ellie called out from behind you as you heard the fridge open along with some clinking glass.

Of course, Duchess’s demons took over as she whipped her head off into the distance, seemingly shocked by something, before sprinting back upstairs. There had to be a ghost or something in this bitch!

You shook your head before standing straight to turn towards the kitchen. You noticed Ellie shamelessly staring at your ass before she slowly dragged her eyes up connected with yours. And she just took a shot of pure vodka. No chaser. Fuck.

“You always talk about me staring, look at you!”

“You’re lucky that’s all I did,” She said as she poured another shot for herself. “Was thiiis close to doing something outta pocket.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” you challenged. Yup, that wine was still kicking.

“Shoving my tongue in your ass,” she said casually with a shrug before leaning over the counter, taking sips from her shot glass.

That familiar swirl in your gut quickly turned into a tornado. Your pussy clenched tight with want. Oh. Oh, wow.

“Oh.”

“Uh huh.”

Do something! Say something sexy, you’re boring her! your brain shouted.

“T-that guy was trash, huh?” you said with a sheepish laugh.

“…Yup,” she said deeply as she watched you. Every breath you took, every nervous twitch of your body with that nasty little glint in her eyes. The one you recognized from New Year’s. You stepped out of your heels and took a stumbly step towards the counter.

Confidence! Confidence, dammit!

“Can I have some?” You said as you pointed towards the bottle of Absolut.

She snorted a laugh before shrugging, “I dunno. Can you?”

“Shut up, gimme some,” you said as you folded your arms over your chest. Her eyes dropped to your tits as she licked her lips; She wasn’t moving to get your drink, she just stared at your pushed up breasts. Your manicured nails dug into your lacy sleeve, but you stood your ground. “Right now.”

She smirked at your tone before returning her gaze to yours, shaking her head no. She tilted her head condescendingly, lifting her brow at you. She was… fucking testing you! The goddamn nerve!

“Ellie.”

“Hm?”

“Pour me a shot!”

“Or what?” Her tone was so low, so relaxed. You could feel yourself getting so wet.

“Or m’gonna…” Come up with something, what the fuck! “M’gonna…uh… fight you!”

“…You’re gonna fight me?” She squinted her eyes at you, setting the small glass down on the counter before folding her hands.

“…Yeah! Y’know what?! I’m actually mad, you ruined our first date because you thought some guy was staring at me!” There was a shakiness in your voice, but you waved your arms in anger as you started pacing, your bare feet stomping on the dark tile. Along with soft jingles. Duchess was back! “I’ve never been stared at by a stranger in my life!”

Ellie wasn’t retaliating, but you noticed her jaw clenching. It made you clench, but you pressed anyway.

“And you didn’t even get me my dessert! Maybe I wanted him to stare at me! Maybe I wanted the attention, for once! For fucking on—!”

You hadn’t noticed Ellie circle the counter during your toothless rampage, but you felt a sharp tug of hair at the back of your head. Your neck forcibly craned up at her as you let out a wet gasp and pained whined, your fist clenching in your shock and… arousal. Your eyes met her dark, fiery ones, her lips slightly parted as her breath hit your face. You couldn’t stop fucking squirming, your thighs rubbing together to ease the sudden tightness of your core.

“Don’t start acting like a fuckin’ brat,” She said lowly between grit teeth. “You’re cute, keep it that way.”

Despite your eagerness for… her everything, you spat back, “S-Screw you, Ellie! You’re mean!”

“Know I am. Seems like you don’t, though.”

Your body involuntarily shuddered against her, and you mentally cursed yourself for being your biggest enemy! Your tough act faltered the second you put it on, and she smirked. “So fuckin’ easy, you wanna screw me, baby?”

You were easy. You were, you were, all for her! Fuck, you’d do anything she asked of you. You hadn’t even realized that your hands were slowly lifting your dress up on their own accord, bunching the fabric around your hips. She looked down and scoffed out a laugh, her grip in your hair tightening. You were moaning aloud already, what the fuck!

“Givin’ it up like that? Like a filthy slut?”

You nodded, your head filled with nothing but desire. Need. Instinct. You needed her to fuck you right now!

“Get up those fucking stairs, gonna put the baby in the guest room.” You could hear her jingling on the couch.

Her grip on you loosened as she backed away to walk towards Duchess with a soft hi, baby! missed you!

That was a fast switch up!

You turned towards the counter and downed the rest of Ellie’s discarded shot before you bolted up the steps. You never ran so fast in your life.

After Ellie took care of Duchess, you heard her tread up the stairs. You were sitting on the edge of her made bed with your hands folded in your lap and slick pooling your thong. She met your eyes from where she stood by the top of the steps.

“Look at you, already so well behaved,” she cooed at you. She sounded so demeaning, and you loved it. You were so embarrassed that you did.

You didn’t reply but watched her slowly walk towards you. Your breathing picked up and your heart pounded in your ears and head and clit—

“You used to be so fuckin’ sweet,” she said down at you, her lustful eyes twinkling under the green and blue hues in her room. She shook her head at you. “You get some alcohol in you’n start acting out? That’s what you wanna do?”

You slowly shook your head no, jutting your bottom lip out.

“Talk.”

“No, Ellie,” you could barely whisper.

“Take this off,” she ordered abruptly, her pointer finger pulling at the bust of your dress.

You stood at her command, pulling your arms out of your sleeves to pull the dress down your body. Was it always this tight?!

After wrestling with your garb, it pooled at your feet. You stepped out of it clumsily as Ellie took in your appearance. You watched her rake her eyes over your body, chuckling softly at your undergarments.

“These are cute,” she said as she snapped the band of your thong against your skin. It made you flinch… and wetter! “Give’em to me.”

Your breath hitched, curling in on yourself slightly.

She gently cut through your thoughts before you could gather them, “Don’t think about it, just do what I ask.”

You hesitantly hooked your thumbs into your underwear and pulled them down on autopilot, cringing slightly at the large wet spot on the little triangle. You pressed your thighs together to help alleviate some tension. It didn’t help.

“Get up there,” she nodded her head towards her bed frame. You sat on the bed to scoot up the mattress, but she stopped you, tightly gripping your ankle.

“Nuh uh, hands’n knees’ c’mon,” she scolded, “Wanna see that wet fuckin’ pussy.”

You clumsily got up onto your knees, hands sinking into her pine-scented blankets. Your erratic breaths picked up as you nervously looked back at her over your shoulder. Her expression softened slightly, whispering okay, baby? and you nodded enthusiastically. You never would’ve thought that you would enjoy Ellie being mean to you, but it was making you drip. She smirked and her gaze dropped to stare at your wet cunt, and it squeezed in excitement.

Be sexy! you thought. Make her want you!

You deepened the arch in your back slightly before you slowly crawled up her bed like a cat until you were faced with her black, detailed bed frame. You boldly shoved your face into her pillows, —you sniffed them very deeply— making sure to keep your ass up as far as you could.

“It’s like that?” You heard her scoff out. Your pussy twitched at her voice; You hoped she noticed.

You took a deep breath, “Is it?”

“Fucking smartass. Show me your pussy.”

Your body burned at her vulgarity; she had no shame! You whimpered before you reached your arms behind you to spread your asscheeks, both holes pulsing in excitement.

You felt her move onto the bed before you heard the ripping of fabric. She grabbed both your wrists in one hand, knotting your soaking wet panties around them before dropping your bound hands onto your back.

“ELL— “

You were going to scold her for ripping your new pair, but you were cut off by a stinging slap on your ass. You let out a pained groan in the pillow as your nails dug into your palms. Oh, you liked that. A lot. You wanted more. Fuck, you want her to hurt you.

“Gotta beat it into you, huh? That’s the type of shit you like?” Ellie said in a nasty timbre. “The only way t’get you to behave?”

You didn’t even get to lift your head to say yes! before another harsh slap landed on your other cheek and you let out a muffled squeal again. You knew your pussy was dripping onto her duvet in a puddle!

“You’re lucky you’re only getting my fucking hand. Fuckin’ slut.”

Why was the disgusting part of you wishing that she were using something more? Something that she could etch into your skin forever?

“E-Ell— “

“Be quiet.”

You shut up. You shut up so quickly.

“Fuuck, look at this fucking ass.” You felt her calloused hands massage both cheeks. She spread them, made them jiggle. Hit you again.

“Gonna let me play with it, babygirl? Hm? Gonna let me touch you how I want to?” She cooed out at you. You knew she knew your answer, but you nodded your sweaty head into her pillow anyway.

You felt her place a light kiss on the back of your thigh, right under your asscheek, before she got up. You heard a drawer slide open. Her… special drawer. Fuck, she was going to destroy you.

You craned your neck as best as you could

to watch as she pulled out some items. She set them on the dresser before she undid her chains, bracelets, and earrings. She took her turtleneck and slacks off, leaving her with mussed hair and a black sports bra with matching boyshorts. Her back, her fucking back, holy fuck—

Your thoughts were halted by a thud near the edge of the bed: you couldn’t see anything that she chose, but you saw that familiar shade of purple in the middle of the small pile.

“You comfortable in that position?” She questioned you suddenly, her softness returning.

“Umm… I like it, but my arms hurt a little, not gonna lie.”

She tsked at you, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“M’sorry! I was really into the “don’t talk” thing— “

“If the don't talk thing makes you not tell me when you're uncomfortable, I’m not doing it. You gotta tell me when you feel off, I don’t care why or when it is,” She crawled up to you and undid the knot from your wrists before grabbing your hip to help move you onto your back. “Here, stretch out.”

You laid your head on her pillow as you extended your arms and legs, sighing in relief before you rested, limbs spread out on the mattress, “M’okay now.”

She hummed in acknowledgement, but she wasn’t looking at your face. She was staring at your wet cunt, and it made you squeeze hard. She licked her lips as more slick pooled at your hole before meeting your eyes. “I like you better like this actually.”

You nodded as you offered her your wrists, signaling her to tie them again with a wide grin.

She laughed at you before crawling up to pull at your bra wire, “Wait, take this off first.”

“Want you to do it,” you sighed out dreamily.

She hummed at you, moving up to straddle your waist, “I meant it when I said this was cute, by the way.”

“Exactly, was cute! You saw my panties for three seconds and ripped them to shreds,” you cackled out.

“I was excited, felt a little frisky!” She laughed with you.

You both slowed your giggles when she started rubbing them through the fabric, both hands massaging you through the cups.

Your eyes fluttered when your nipples brushed up against the lace, your back arching into her touch. She slowly bent down to take one of them into her mouth, the bulb in her mouth circling the peak. You gasped sharply, arching deeper as your hand flew to the back of her head. You gently scratched her scalp with your nails, and she sucked on it.

You jerked and your grip on her hair tightened, and she moaned around you. You moaned at the vibrations on your sensitive skin.

You hadn’t noticed her hands snuck under you to undo the clasp of your bra as she pulled away from you, discarding the flimsy cloth and tossing it somewhere.

“So much for a surprise,” you playfully rolled your eyes at her. Calloused fingers dug into your cheeks. Your smile dropped and your eyes fluttered as hers burned into yours.

“You’re not off the fuckin’ hook. Watch your mouth, you understand?” She said lowly, breath hitting your face. You nodded quickly.

“I understand,” you whimpered out.

“Atta girl, you're learning,” she patronized with a satisfied grin, patting your cheek a couple times. You blushed harder. “Gimme those hands.”

She sat up to reach for your destroyed panties, your wrists connected at the veins as she bound them together, much tighter than the first time.

You rested your arms on the pillow behind you. She adjusted them so that your head was propped up and your neck was supported. You poked your chest out more as your tits jiggled with your movements.

“I do anything you don’t like, you tell me.” She said in a hushed, but stern tone.

“I will, El, promise.”

“Okay,” she bent down to press a soft kiss to your mouth before moving off you and towards the pile of toys.

She grabbed one of… what is that?

It was a teal circle with a small hole at the top of it. Technology is so interesting—

“It’s clean, promise,” she must’ve noticed your furrowed brows and stare. You shook your head.

“S’not that, what… what is it?”

“A vibrator, babe,” she said simply.

“…Hm, never seen one like that before.”

“I hadn’t either. It was a gift,” she snorted before she clicked a button on the top of it. A low vibration filled the room, “It feels good, though.”

“What’s it feel like?”

“It’s supposed to feel like you’re getting head… sorta,” She said in thought, “It kinda does, like a little bit… wanna see if you like it?”

“Yeah, p-please?”

“That’s cute.”

She brought her free hand up to roll your nipples between her thumb and pointer finger, making you whine out and squirm and arch your back. Your eyes fluttered closed.

You felt the gentle vibrations on your inner thigh before they slowly trailed up with every twist and pinch Ellie gave your nipples. Your hips started bucking up before she brought her hand down to slap your pussy. You let out a loud moan as your eyes shot open to meet her dark ones.

“Stop moving.”

“C-can't help it,” you said with pout.

“Yeah, you can.”

You let out a huff, and she gave your cunt another wet slap, much harder. You squealed loudly as your legs squeezed shut.

“Don’t get a fuckin’ attitude.”

You whimpered a sloppy slew of apologies, but you knew she wasn’t hearing it as she pried your legs apart with one strong hand to slap it one more time before slowly rubbing your clit. Your hips jerked, but you forced them not to lift.

“You get so fuckin’ wet,” she whispered in awe, the sticky noises of your pussy filling the room as she played with it. “Hear that? Shit.”

“Missed you s-so much— “

“Know you did.”

You moaned her name, and she mockingly moaned yours back. It made you leak more.

You felt her spread your lips open so she could watch your clit throb and jerk in need. You looked down and saw her eyes glued to your cunt, her freckled cheeks tinted red and her wet, pink lips parted. She looked up at you, smirking when she met your intrigued, needy eyes as she placed the vacant part of the vibrator over your clit.

“Like watching?”

“Think so,” you shyly mumbled out.

And then you felt the vibrations on your soaked bud. You gasped as your eyes closed.

You felt her pull the toy away before she slapped your clit. You cried out as your eyes shot open to meet hers again.

“Watch me. Don’t close your eyes.”

You jerkily nodded; You watched her so closely. She kissed your clit before spreading them with her fingers to bring the open part of the toy to your clit, trapping it inside once more.

Your bud was surrounded by the pulsing sensations of the soft silicone and your eyes almost rolled back into your head, but you craved Ellie’s praise, her reassurance. You wanted to be good for her.

All you could do was moan and shudder and watch her.

“Feels good?”

“Feels s’good, baby—”

“Yeah? Want some more?” she said fondly with a filthy glare.

You mumbled out a quiet yeah, wa’more! in between your pleas.

She pressed another button on the toy, and the vibrations got stronger. Your cries got louder.

“Sloppy fucking pussy.”

The tight pull in your gut was building, but you needed more. You wanted to pull on your nipples so bad but you fucking couldn’t! Why did you want your hands tied so badly?

“El,” you barely got out between your heavy pants, “can you—mmh!”

“What?”

“T-ouch my tits? Please, m’right there!”

She snickered at you before reaching up to slap one of them, leaving remnants of your slick on the soft skin. That wasn’t what you were expecting, but you want more of that!

“Hit me more?” you keened, your eyes glossy.

“You asking?” she snickered, and you nodded so fast.

She shook her head at you, “You’re gross.”

For her! You’re so nasty for her her her—

You received another slap. And another. Then she reached up to dig her nails into your brown bud. You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back, it hurt so good.

“Shit, m’gonna cum!”

“Uh huh.”

All you could do was moan out warnings of s’coming! and I feel it! and yes! It built and built until you could taste it and—

… Everything you felt stopped. And Ellie was laughing. You were going to cry.

No… nonono—

“Told you to keep your eyes open.”

“E-Ellie, please no, I can’t— “

“Y’know, I was hoping you could follow simple instructions,” she cut you off as she moved towards the pile again, grabbing her… fat fucking dick, yes finally yesyesyes—

And lube… and an emerald green buttplug with a matching… remote? Oh, fuck—

“You don’t know how to fucking listen, do you?” She tossed the items next to you before grabbing your shaky thighs to pull you closer to her, your head dropping onto the soft mattress. You laid flat on your back as she loomed over you, your legs on either side of her.

She watched your twitchy hole produce more slick, “Don’t even need to get you ready, could just slip right in and fuck you how I want.”

“Wan’you to! Wann’it so bad— “

“Yeah? Want me t’use you?”

“Fuck yes! Yeah!”

“Keep these fuckin’ legs open, then,” she grabbed her dick and stood to step into it, adjusting the straps securing them around her hips. She climbed back between your legs as she intensely stared at your tits. She looked so deep in thought, brows furrowed with her bottom lip between her teeth; What the hell was her evil brain conjuring up?!

She gave your breast one last burning slap that made you cry out before grabbing the lube off the bed. You watched as she ripped the cap off, pouring some into the palm of her hand to bring down to her dick to massage it into the ridges. Your walls were squeezing so tight, your pussy begging for whatever she was about to do.

You almost flatlined on her bed when she straddled you, climbing up your body until her dick rested between your tits, the lube she smeared all over it transferring to your skin. Her thick, wet tip was almost touching your chin, and all you could do was gape at it before slowly blinking up at her, meeting her burning gaze. She bit her lip as she slowly tipped the bottle of lube, letting the thick consistency land your chest before she rubbed it into your skin with her cock. You felt so fucking dirty!

“Stick that tongue out,” she ordered deeply as she closed and tossed the lube bottle.

Your lips parted on command, your tongue slowly sliding between the two of them. She grabbed your face in a tight grip before letting a line of spit slip out of her mouth and onto your tongue. You felt it slide down your tongue before you happily swallowed

it. You lolled your tongue out, silently asking for more with pleading eyes.

She sneered at you before she did it again, getting it all over your chin and cheeks. You couldn’t stop the whimper that left your mouth. She let a blob out onto your tits, mixing with the lube.

But then you felt a fiery hand come down on your cheek, your head flying to the side as you let out a choked gasp. Your thighs clamped together on instinct as your walls quivered at the sting. You felt her place a hand on the side of your head, keeping it still as her nails dug into your scalp.

“G’na fuck these tits s’good,” you heard her groan out. Your cunt throbbed in desperation.

“Wan’ you to!”

“Beg me to,” she hissed at you.

“Please, baby, pleasefuck’em!—“

You felt her squeeze both your wet tits in one tight hand before she forced her dick between them, both of you letting out moans in between the squelchy noises from your bodies.

Her grip in your hair tightened as you heard her pleased sighs, her slurred curses, her whines of your name, why were you getting so tight, why did it feel like you were about to cum—

“Fuuuck, babygirl, feels s’fuckin’ good—!”

“E-El, please— “

“Yeah? What does my girl need? Wan’ some fuckin’ attention?” You hated how hard your core squeezed at her belittling tone. You nodded as fast as you could in her tight grasp.

“Not g’na til I cum, you’re gonna fuckin’ lay there’n let me do what I want, tha’s what you wanted right? Huh?”

More hot tears were falling to your hairline as you quietly sobbed and pleaded for her to touch your pussy, but she wasn’t hearing any of it. She released the grip she had on your head, but she just shoved her drenched, lubricated fingers into your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut as you hummed around them, sucking them deeper.

“Gonna fuck that throat so hard one day, swear to god.”

You hummed and garbled pleas around them in excitement.

“Shit! Need that? Just wan’ something in that pretty mouth?”

You nodded, you kept nodding, you want anything she’ll give you.

“G’na fucking cum, all over that gorgeous face,” she gritted out as she snatched her fingers from your mouth. Her wet hand flew to your tits, pushing them closer together so that she could fuck her dick into the little hole she tightened.

“W-Wan’ your cum, daddy!” you encouraged her as you watched, you needed her to cum!

“Shit, baby, stick your tongue out,” she whined out as she grinded her dick between your tits. Your eyes opened and your tongue immediately started swiping across her tip whenever it came up to your mouth. Her hips jolted and stuttered on top of you as she watched you, and you watched her. You hurriedly sucked her rubber tip into your mouth and sucked sloppily like you were trying to milk her. You knew she couldn’t feel the suctions, but you saw her eyes roll back into her skull as she let out a loud moan. She was bucking her hips into her strap as her nails dug into your tits. You kept the tip in your mouth as she rode out her pleasure.

She looked so pretty and soft: fluttery lids, swollen lips, and her dotted cheeks flushed as quiet whines left her mouth. So pretty, she’s so fucking pretty—

Her tip suddenly slipped from your mouth as she scooted down your body.

“K-Kiss?” you asked softly, voice unsteady.

She didn’t say anything as she leaned down to connect your lips. It was light and careful, both of you breathing into each other's whines. She made sure to check on you, mumbling an okay? against your mouth. You whined out a yesyeah m’okay before you reconnected your lips.

You kissed for what felt like hours before she sat up to move off you.

“W-Wan’more,” you mumbled with pleading expression.

“Okay, babe.”

You watched as she scooted down, shuffling until she was between your legs. She held one of them up with a hand under your knee to press it to your chest, playing with your entrance with her free hand. You felt her slide a finger in and your mouth fell open, your walls clinging to her the deeper she prodded. You were stunned at how fast she found that spongy spot inside you, and you squeezed her tighter.

“Loosen up, can barely fucking move.”

You couldn’t do anything except wail out incoherencies about how fast you were going to cum, and you felt her slide another finger in.

“Nuh uh, hold it.”

“Can’t, Ellie, fuck— “

“Yeah you can, hold that shit.”

You tried you tried, but you couldn’t. All you could get out was a cry of stop, baby! stopstopstop before your peak washed over you.

But the pleasure left as fast as it came as she pulled out with a tsk, another slap landing on your pulsing clit. You sobbed her name, tears running down your temples.

“Couldn’t even hold it for a few seconds?” She scolded, and it made you and your pussy cry harder.

“Stop crying,” you felt her releasing the tight grip from under your knee to softly wipe your tears off your face. “Look at me.”

Your glossy eyes slowly peeled open, taking in the sight above you.

“Good?” she asked softly, and you nodded with a whimper of m’okay, El, I like it so much! please fuck me!

“Yeah? Babygirl wants some dick?”

“Yes! Pleasefuckmee—!”

You let out a groan when you felt her dick slap on your pulsing bud. You were spewing pleas and curses and cries of her name; you wanted her inside! Wanted to feel her so deep in your stomach!

You couldn’t help but lift your head to look down at her cock sliding between your folds, her thick tip nudging your clit with every thrust.

How were you about to cum from that alone? Your eyes were fluttering from the pleasure. You whimpered out a warning of your impending orgasm.

“You gonna cum from this? M’barely doing anything.”

You couldn’t speak, you just nodded. Your mind was hazy and racing with thoughts of her at the same time, your core clenching tight. Yeah, you were going to cum!

“Daddy—!”

“Fuuuck yeah, need me, baby?”

Your eyes rolled back so far back you swore you could see your brain shaking its head at you in disappointment, and you came so fucking hard. You felt her tip push past your spasming entrance as she quickly rubbed your clit with her thumb as it hit you. That stretch made you scream, and your head fell back.

“S’so big!” You couldn’t even register what you were saying, your burning orgasm taking over your mouth.

“Gonna be my good girl’n take it? Gonna make me proud?” Her voice sent another wave through your body as it shook in painful pleasure.

“Yeah, daddy, m’your good girl!”

“Then lemme in, love, c’mon,” she whispered out over your moans and groans and squeals. Your orgasm was still ripping through your body, your wetness dripping down your ass and onto the new puddle on the blanket. She was tearing you open with every shallow thrust, but you took every ridged, veiny inch like you were meant to.

“Good, baby? Talk t’me,” she said gently, halting her thrusts as she caressed your thigh.

“M’sti—m’stillcummimg—! “

She scoffed a wet laugh at you and went even deeper, “I feel it, squeezing the fuck outta me. Dirty fucking whore.”

You felt the balls of the strap resting against your ass as you slowly came down. She was all the way in, slowly pulling out only to push back in. Her tits were slightly jiggling in her bra every time she bottomed out. Your hands wriggled in the fabric; you wanted them in your mouth so bad.

“Wan’touch you, daddy, please?” you moaned out in a gasp as she fucked back into you, stretching you out.

“Touch me where?” She asked, thrusting deeper.

“Mmh! Your tits, please!”

She huffed smugly before fucking into you faster. She brought her hand up to her chest, squeezing one of them through her bra, “These tits?”

“Yeaah, fuck!” You could already feel another orgasm twisting in your gut at the painful stretch.

She mumbled out an uh huh as she slowly pulled the elastic up, her breasts slowly dropping out. She slowed her thrusts and brought her other hand to pull the cotton over her head, throwing her head back as both hands played with her nipples. Her moaning made you moan and fuck, you were in love!

“Lemme go, El, fuck!” you pleaded, your hands pulling at the restraints. How was such fragile cloth so resistant!

“Shit, baby, feels s’fucking good,” you watched her pull and twist them as she whimpered your name as she ignored you. She’d stopped thrusting to play with herself, only slowly grinding her hips into you, so you planted your feet on the bed to thrust your hips downward, clumsily bouncing up and down on her dick as you watched her.

She looked down at you and sneered, “Yeah? Wanna fuck me?”

“Yes, w’na make you cum, daddy.”

“Here, baby, gimme your hands,” you halted your movements bringing your arms to hers. She tore the knot in your panties and tossed them before slowly pulling out fully, a nasty shhlck! filling the room. You were so wet.

She leaned above you, reaching over your head to grab some pillows, setting them beside you. Her tits were in your face, so you slowly brought an inexperienced hand up to touch one softly. You gave it a gentle squeeze, bringing your other hand up to rub into the other. She let out a satisfied sigh of your name. You leaned up, boldly taking a soft nipple into your mouth. You sucked at it softly as your eyes fluttered shut, swirling your tongue around the sensitive skin.

“Shit, tha’s so good,” she moaned out before pulling at your now sweated out hair. You gave her one last hard suck before your head fell back on the bed, her mouth instantly connecting with yours in a spit-filled, smacking kiss. Her tongue was sliding all over yours before you sucked it into your mouth, making her moan into your mouth. She brought her hand up to wrap around your throat, gently squeezing the sides. She pulled back with a look of concern on her face, grip immediately loosening at your whimper, but you brought a hand up to cover hers on your throat, squeezing tighter. Your eyes nearly crossed when she hummed with a knowing smirk, pressing her middle finger and thumb into the sides again. She pulled away, licking your bottom lip before bending down to whisper in your ear.

“Turn over.”

You stumblingly flipped onto your stomach as she shoved two plush pillows under your hips to support them, even though you were poking your ass out towards her anyway. You felt her slap it playfully before kissing it.

You felt her hands pulling your cheeks apart like she told you to do to yourself earlier. You felt her staring and it made your heart beat faster.

“Okay, El?”

“Mhm, just looking.”

You looked at her over your shoulder, “You can… um… y’know?”

“No, I don’t know,” she snickered.

“What… what you said earlier?”

“What’d I say?”

“About me! The thing you said!”

“Want me t’eat your ass?” She said in between kisses on your cheek. She was grinning so hard.

“…Y-yes?”

“Then ask me.”

You looked forward with a harsh sigh, “You’re so annoyi— “

A tight hand grabbed your hair to pull your head back roughly. You let out a pained moan at the ceiling before you felt her lips at your ear, “What’d I tell you about that fuckin’ mouth?”

You instinctively pushed back on her with a whine of m’sorry daddy!

“No, you’re not, you keep talking shit’n it’s pissing me off. I’ve been trying to be nice t’you.”

Nice?! She almost made you black out with one orgasm!

You didn’t have a response, but your eyes actually did cross when you felt a thumb prod your ass.

“Should just shove m’dick in here, huh? I bet that’d get you to shut the fuck up,” she spat out and your back arched deeper at her proposal.

You felt another glob of spit land on your other hole, her thumb immediately circling it before popping the tip of it in. You let out a loud moan at the intrusive sting.

“Been wanting me to fuck this ass since I said it, haven’t you?” She rasped at you.

“Yeah!“

“Yeah!” She mocked you in a squeaky tone. “You’re disgusting, who woulda thought you would like this type of shit.”

Her thumb was fucking in and out of your hole as fast as she could manage. You shouldn’t like how much it hurts, that burn shouldn’t be making your orgasm build up again.

She let your hair go and your head flopped onto the pillow in front of you. Your nails dug into it when you felt her dick line up at the entrance of your pussy before she shoved it in. You let out a muffled shout.

You didn’t have a chance to adjust before she started fucking into you hard. Squelchy noises, slaps of skin, and your screams of pleasure immediately filled the room, her headboard knocking against the black walls. It was so fast and hot and made you feel cheap, and you fucking loved it. It made you feel desired.

“This is what you wanted me to do in that fuckin’ closet?”

“Yeah, daddy, fuck!”

“Wanted me t’fuck you up? Make you m’fucking bitch?”

“Uggh! El—!”

“Shouldn’t even be fucking you in this bed,” She groaned out, grinding her thumb deep into your ass.

“Should’ve bent you over that dinner table, right in front of that fucker.”

The imagery of Ellie fucking into you in front of your asshole of a waiter, making you scream out in front of everyone eating and drinking, claiming you as hers so that they know who you belong to made you see white. You bit down on the pillow in front of you as bursts of wetness left your cunt and splattered onto your thighs, the pillows, and Ellie’s dick. But she didn’t stop, you felt her go faster. Hit deeper.

“M’cu-mming!” you screamed, shouts of prickling pleasure muffled by the material in your mouth.

“Yeah? Tha’s making you cum? Wanna get fucked in public like a whore?”

“D-ahh! Fuckme!”

“Baby’s so stupid for this dick,” Her tip was hitting your fucking cervix and it hurt so good. You were about to cum again! “Who’s pussy is this?”

“S’your pussy! S’daddy’s pussy!”

“Keep sayin’ that, s’gonna make me cum so hard,” she groaned out, her thumb leaving your ass and ripping the pillows from underneath you, your hips dropping onto the bed. You felt her push back into you, her chest on your back as she grinded deep into you. Her arm came around your neck, your throat right in the crevice of her elbow as you let the pillow fall from your mouth. Your nails were digging into the covers as your cunt gushed on her.

“You’re getting so fucking wet. Like when I fuck you up? Treat you like shit?”

“Yeah yeahyeah—!”

“Make me cum, babygirl,” she whispered in your ear. “Fuck me back, c’mon.”

You pushed back onto her as best as you could as she grinded forward, even though it was quick and sloppy and desperate. She started moaning out fucks and like thats and all you could mumble out was slurry s’yours, daddy! because you knew she liked it. Her voice on its own was getting you there.

“Fuck, m’gonna fucking cum— “

“Uh huh! Cum in me, daddy pleasepleaseplease!” you squealed out in dazed excitement. You want her cum you want her cum!

“Fuuuck, babygirl, s’coming—!”

“Please make my p-pussy sloppy?” you could barely get your pleas out as your mind fogged. You couldn’t even bring yourself to feel embarrassed at your eagerness for her cum, and by the way Ellie shouted your name in your ear as her body shook on top of yours, she must’ve somewhat liked it? Right?

Your second thoughts quickly died as you fucked back onto her, helping her ride out her orgasm. She was crying out as her nails dug into your shoulder, and the sharp pierce made you cum again! You let out babbles of her name in your pleasure. You were both messes in each other's arms, you pushing back while she pushed forward, trying to make it last as long as you could before it died down.

You let out wet groans as she grinded you both to the ends of your orgasms, and you collapsed.

You felt a light kiss on your shoulder before Ellie gently pulled out of you, falling onto the bed so that you were side by side. You both tried to catch your breath in your exhaustion.

After minutes of heavy breathing and light caresses from Ellie, you reached under to grab the object that was digging into your side. When you saw what it was, your eyes widened, and stomach twisted.

You heard Ellie laugh softly next to you, “We didn’t get to use it.”

You paused as you stared at the buttplug that she’d thrown on the bed, the faux emerald at the end of it shining under the green fairy lights.

“It’s pretty,” you said in a hoarse whisper.

“Mhm,” she nodded. “Feels good, too.”

Your toes curled.

“What’s it feel like?”

She smiled, “You sound cute when you ask that.”

You shook your head and grinned shyly, “I’m just curious, I assume it’s… nice, or whatever! People on Twitter always talk about it.”

“Yeah, it’s really fucking nice.”

“Have you used it?” She nodded.

“Course I have, used all of ‘em.”

“Tell me what happened!” you said, dropping the toy on the bed before giddily flipping onto your side to face her. It made her giggle; You loved that sound.

“I was… like in this sex shop in Cali, and the cashier was like ‘heyyy, your orders over a hundred dollars, you can get a free item, blah blah blah’— “

“Not that, you bonehead! I mean when you use it!” You both let out loud laughs.

Her smile dropped slowly before she whispered, “Came really fuckin’ hard the first time I tried it, like… really hard. Swore I saw god.”

Your core squeezed in intrigue. You listened closely as she continued, “Like, I was still cumming even after I switched it off. There was a giant puddle on the floor when I finally stopp—.”

“Ellie?” you softly cut her off.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Can you… will you… I wanna try?” you said as your face burned, hoping she would accept your poor proposal to take your… other virginity.

You watched a sly grin slowly grow on her face.

“Lemme go check on Duchess’n smoke.”

You nodded slowly with a fluttery blink.

It was almost midnight, and you were laying next to Ellie on her couch in her Lauryn Hill shirt as you nursed a bottle of water. You watched as she exhaled the smoke from her pre-roll.

After chasing Duchess around the kitchen and living room, you both covered her in kisses before filling her food bowl and shutting the guest door as she ate.

“Such a nice view,” you mumbled as you gazed out the large window. You’d never been fond of the city: you always appreciated the stillness of your town, the close community where everyone knew each other, but the scenery in front of you almost makes you want to change your mind. It was always so lively and bright, even in the darkness.

“Right? When I first moved in, I slept in front of the window for weeks. The noise helped me sleep a bit better and the lights are pretty,” She said quietly before taking a puff. You listened and watched as she exhaled the smoke. You sat your bottle on the floor before speaking.

“Can I try?”

“You know how?” She asked impishly with a raise of her brow as the remnants of her puff left her mouth and nose.

“Fuck you! I know how to smoke, I just choose not to!”

“Right,” she said with an eye roll, gently tapping the ashes off on the ashtray in front of her before passing the joint to you.

You propped yourself up on your elbows before taking it between your thumb and pointer finger, watching the smoke leave the lit end before sticking it between your lips. You only inhaled for a couple seconds before pulling it from your mouth, softly coughing.

You slowly turned your head to look at her for approval, finding that she was already watching you. Her hair was still damp from earlier, her lips were swollen, and she was still in her boyshorts.

“Meh. Still a fucking rookie,” she said in a light tone as she wet her lips. You shoved her shoulder with yours, making her laugh.

“That strain’s supposed to make you horny,” she whispered, attempting to grab the joint from you. Something nasty curled in your gut at her tone, mindlessly bringing the joint back to your lips and inhaled some more before she could snatch it. You held it much longer than the first puff before choking on the carbon, making her laugh at you. You felt her pat your back gently through your coughs. You passed it back to her and she took it with a shake of her head.

After she smoked her joint down, she bolted upstairs, swiftly returning to the couch with full hands.

You flipped onto your back as she pressed the button on the buttplug remote, and it immediately started pulsing. She smirked down at you.

“There’s a couple settings, we can try ‘em all and see which one you like the most, ‘kay?”

You nodded eagerly as she switched it off and threw the toy on the couch next to her dick and flavored lube. She straddled you, grabbing your face in both hands to connect your lips in a soft kiss. You hummed into her mouth before she pulled away.

“Lemme give you head first, though.”

“S-sure.”

She hummed before smacking her wet lips onto yours. She planted wet, sucking kisses on your jaw, neck, and shoulder before she moved down your body. She lifted the shirt you had on just under your tits before she went crazy on your clit. She was flicking and licking and sucking between your legs as your fingers ran through her soft hair to pull her closer. Your moans and noises of your pussy as she fucked you with her tongue and fingers filled the entire first floor of her home. You came so quickly on her tongue, squeezing the muscle and fingers in a bone-crushing grip. You could tell she liked it as much as you did by how she moaned into your cunt.

After you came down, Ellie instructed you to hold your legs up so she could see your ass. They were pressed to your chest, both your arms tucked into the crevice of your knees as Ellie prepped you for the toy.

She’d rubbed some of your cum in before she spat on it, and now she was drenching her fingers and opening in the lubricant as you watched.

“Just relax, ‘kay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. You were a bit nervous, but your walls were clenching with want.

She nodded before gently rubbing your drenched hole with her pointer and middle finger, making you sigh. You felt her slowly push a finger in and you immediately started to squirm. Your body was so hot already.

“Okay?” She asked you gently.

“Yeah m’good,” you said in a wanton sigh.

She grinned before kissing the back of your thigh. You felt another finger at your entrance before a burning sensation took over when she slowly pressed it in, and your head dropped onto the cushion in a choked gasp.

“Yeah? You like this shit?” She asked snarkily, but shock was evident in her voice.

“Y-yeah, El, like it!”

“So fucking cute, gonna fuck this ass so hard,” she whispered out, grinding her fingers deeper before pulling them out to squirt more lube on them.

She slowly pushed them back in and the lack of resistance made your toes curl.

“Do me a favor?”

“M-mhm?”

“Get that nice’n wet for me,” she said, shoving the emerald plug in between your twitchy fingers. You gripped it tight, releasing the hold you had on your legs so you could spread them. You brought your free hand down to your drippy cunt to spread the lips, exposing your clit. You slowly dragged the toy up and down your folds, a quiet, squishy sound joining the already sloppy noises in the room from Ellie’s fingers in your ass.

You could see her watching with a blush on her face, licking her lips as she prodded another finger at your clenching opening. You could feel the stretch more as she slowly popped the tip of it in, so you distracted yourself. You propped yourself on one elbow to bring the plug down to the entrance of your cunt, slowly fucking it into you. The silicone ridges dragged on your walls, and it made your eyes roll as you moaned softly. Ellie let out a shocked moan as she watched you fuck the plug in and out of your pussy. She leaned forward to spit on your clit, and you brought your shaky hand down to rub it. She mumbled curses out.

“Thinking about me fucking this pretty pussy? Wan’me t’split you open again?” She hummed out messily. She was just as fucked up as you were, and it made you squeeze.

“Yeah, daddy,” you moaned out softly, fucking the toy into yourself faster as Ellie fucked three fingers into your ass. “Shit!”

“Uh huh, nasty slut, look at you milking that fuckin’ toy.”

You picked up the pace of your shallow thrusts and she matched you, fucking even harder into your ass. You brainlessly brought your wet fingers up to your tits, roughly grabbing at both your nipples in attempts to mimic Ellie’s hands on you. You felt the familiar pull in your gut, but it was so much stronger, and you knew it was going to hit you hard. You were going to cum so quick!

“Ellie,” you could barely get your squeaky warning out, “Thi-think m’gonna, g’na make a m-ess!”

“Yeah, wan‘it baby, make me wet— “

“M’gonna—!”

You cut yourself off with a sharp gasp as colors exploded behind your eyelids, the hand at your tits slamming onto the cushion to dig your nails into it. Your shouts of pleasure overtook the sputtering sounds of wetness that shot out of you. You pulled the toy out and rubbed quick circles on your clit with it, making you release more juices all over Ellie’s expensive couch. She didn’t even seem to care with how hard she was still fucking your ass, whispering nasty curses at you, talking you through it, calling you sloppy, calling you hers. Your legs were trembling as both holes quivered in release.

Your sprays were starting to die down with the circles on your clit, Ellie’s fingers slowing.

Your eyes slowly peeled open, and you were met with her… high ass ceiling! You smiled as you felt her place kisses all over your thighs.

“Tired?” she mumbled out against your knee.

You slowly shook your head when you regained your ability to move.

“Wan’more.”

And she smirked.

Ellie moved you onto your stomach, —if she kept fucking you like this, you were going to die! — your face shoved into her cushion so you were surrounded by her scent. Your ass was, once again, propped up on Ellie’s expensive fucking pillows that you were about to stain with your sopping cunt, but neither of you cared. She was lubricating the plug from behind you, the gooey noises from the slippery liquid filling your ears.

You should’ve never hit that fucking aphrodisiac of a joint when she passed it to you: you never wanted to have sex so fucking bad in your life. You just lost your virginity a few hours ago; What’s happening to you?!

You couldn’t think of anything except Ellie and cumming and Ellie’s cum! You wanted her cum inside you so bad, you want to drown in her with every chance she’d give you—

“Ready, baby?”

“Yes, daddy, m’ready, need it s’bad,” you muffled into the cushion, your cheek squished against it. You sounded so… far away.

“Listen t’you, all floaty,” she murmured. You could hear her grin through it, it made your toes curl, “Feelin’ good?”

“S’good, daddy, fuck me please?”

“…Look at me, babe.”

You used all your energy to lift yourself up onto your elbows turning your sweaty, thoughtless head towards her, gazing over your shoulder and into her gentle, concerned eyes. She’s so beautiful—

“Baby?”

“Hm?”

“Why're you smilin’?”

“M’happy,” you felt yourself grin harder.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nodded lightly. “W’na fuck.”

“‘Kay,” she nodded, her searching gaze still lingering on your face. “Tap my thigh twice.”

You reached a limp hand behind you, immediately following her instructions.

“You do that when you wanna stop, okay?” You nodded, you felt like a bobble head. You want her in your guts now.

“What're you gonna do when you wanna stop?”

You paused.

Then tapped her thigh twice. You dropped your head on the cushion again.

You felt her kiss down your back. You sighed happily.

She slowly rubbed your clit and you jolted, before pushing your hips back onto her fingers. She was planting gentle kisses all over your back and shoulders to relax you. You let out a whine at the feel of her lips on you.

Then you felt the silicone on your hole. You moaned into the cushion in excitement and anticipation, you needed it to pulse inside you so badly.

“What’re gonna do when you wanna stop?” She repeated, her breathing heavy.

You slapped her thigh a bunch of times. You needed her to know you wanted it. You needed this so badly! You needed to know she wanted you!

Then you felt her pop the tip of it inside you. You cried out in appreciation as your holes clenched tight, trying to suck the toy deeper into you. She was pressing soft kisses all over your spine as she slowly pushed it in. You hadn’t realized that you were grinding your clit into the soft fabric of the pillow under you.

“Such a good girl, taking it so easy,” You felt her push the last little part of it inside your ass before the little jewel at the end of it was poking out of you. It was so foreign, but you couldn’t help the satisfied sighs and soft cries as you pussy dripped all over her pillows and couch.

You felt her plant one more kiss at the end of your spine before you felt the vibrations stir in your ass.

“Fuck, oh god! M’—aah!”

“Yeah? Feels fucking good, doesn’t it?”

You didn’t even have the ability to think of an answer before you felt her dick poke at the entrance of your cunt, slowly sliding in. Every wire in your brain went into overdrive as the pulsing of the toy and her cock rattled your insides in unison. She was slowly fucking her dick into you, sliding in deep so her tip bumped into your cervix, making you let out a muffled shout into the couch cushion.

“Fuckmedaddywan’itharder—!”

Your quick babbles were cut off as she sped up her thrusts, both her hands planted at the end of your back so she could rock you back and forth on her dick. She was drilling you, your slick coating the balls of her strap. You felt yourself slowly drifting away, your eyes crossed in your head and drool spilling down your cheek. All you could think about was Ellie. EllieEllieEllie—!

“M’right here, babygirl, I gotchu,” she cooed at you as she dug you out and you went limp. You heard the gushy sounds of your pussy and fuck, you were going to squirt so hard you felt it in your toes—

You felt the vibrations in your ass increase and you let out shouts of bliss, her tip beating your cervix just how you needed with every thrust. For the first time in your life, your brain was silent: no doubt, no loathing, no anxiety. Just pure ecstasy. You felt so fucking full. Full of her and joy and love! You love her and you never wanted her to leave you again. You love her you love her—

“M’yours, daddy, promise!” Tears pricked at your eyes as that hot feeling grew in your stomach. Your heart was pounding, and you couldn’t think, you just rambled as pleasure and happiness and love rushed through you. You were about to cum, all over her, all for her—!

“Shhh, I know, baby, it’s okay— “

“Don’t wan’anyone else! M’yours, always yours!”

You don’t remember when, but Ellie had pulled out of you. And the vibrations stopped. But you were still riding that edge, this close to your peak. Your fists clenched tight, and your hips bucked back to meet hers even though she wasn’t there to catch them. You heard Ellie gently call out your name from your side as she rubbed your back in attempts to slow your fuzzy babbling, “Look at m— “

“Always loved you, daddy, always been you, m’yours, m’all you— “

You cut yourself off with moans of her name and incoherent shouts and sobs of love you so much! I love you! as your orgasm ripped through you. Your thighs trembled as colorful specs of glitter exploded in your vision. You heard yourself screaming out as wetness splattered all over you and the couch and everywhere, and it didn’t stop. Your euphoria was so strong, your clenching cunt spraying as your ass squeezed around the plug shoved deep inside you. You were just shaking and crying and cumming and cumming and cumming—

You don’t know how much time passed, but you were still shaking as tears rolled down your cheeks. You couldn’t feel the plug inside you and Ellie’s strap was gone: you were pressed against her bare chest, your tits pressed together as she held you close. She was rubbing your back as she pressed gentle kisses to the side of your sweaty head, gently humming in your ear. You slowly brought your arm up to limply throw around her waist. You couldn’t say anything.

“Hi, honey,” She barely whispered in your ear. “Can you look at me?”

You slowly shook your head. You felt her kiss your head again.

“S’fine, just breath, okay?”

You nodded again. And your eyes welled up some more.

She must’ve heard your sniffling because she immediately pulled back to gently caress your cheek. You tried to turn your head to hide in the cushion, but she wasn’t having it.

“C’mon angel, it’s just me, okay?”

You slowly redirected your gaze to hers, your vision blurry as you studied her features. You cried harder, sobbing as you nestled into her shoulder.

She didn’t press you after that, she only held you tighter. She whispered gentle shhhs and s’okay, baby, m’heres as you wept into her sweaty skin.

You know she heard your confession of your long-lasting feelings for her, and even though she didn’t seem upset with you, you couldn’t shake the embarrassment, confusion, and despair that overtook you.

But she held you. She held you so tight.

After your gasped sobs eased into soft whimpers and shaky exhales, Ellie guided you upstairs and into her bathroom, strong arms wrapped around your waist to steady your uncoordinated movements.

She lifted you onto the counter and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before moving to the shower to turn it on. All you did was stare at her black towel hanging from the wall rack. You still couldn’t think.

You heard her shuffling around before she moved back to you, easily easing you off the counter and into the shower, making sure to place you under the warm water first.

You gaped at the droplets sliding down the shower wall and she rubbed the lathered sponge into your skin softly. She littered you with kisses the entire time: on your face, shoulder, fingers, anywhere she could reach. But you couldn’t move, and neither of you said anything.

After Ellie rinsed you off, she gently dried your coils and face while kissing your nose. You allowed her to wrap you in a towel, gently drying off the rest of your body as you looked off into nothing.

“C’mon, honey,” she whispered into your ear as she moved behind you, holding onto your waist and walking you to her bed to sit you down, her soiled blanket already discarded on the floor.

It seemed like everything was moving in slow motion as you gazed around her room: the lights were twinkling like fireflies, her fan in the corner of the room whirring like gusts of wind in your ears, the strings of the rug under your feet reminding you of clouds.

She softly called your name as she walked in front of you. Your legs fell open so she could stand between them, “Look at me.”

You took a deep breath before meeting her tender gaze. She cupped your cheeks, softly rubbing her thumbs into them, “You needa eat and drink something, okay? Want some water?”

You nodded.

“Is it okay if I leave for a sec— “

You shook your head quickly as tears filled your eyes at the thought of her leaving. You need her close, you need her here with you—

“Shhh, not gonna go, not leaving, I’m right here,” she comforted immediately, planting more kisses all over your face.

“Want some clothes?” You shook your head, and she nodded gently. She gave your lips one more kiss before ushering you to stand. She walked over to her dresser and grabbed her pine-scented lotion and ointment. She moved behind you, rubbing the soothing cream on your ass before moisturizing your skin, the pine surrounding you. You calmed down at the smell.

“Okay, baby, come lay down.”

She grabbed your wrist gently as she moved you to your side, telling you to lay on your stomach as she pulled a new blanket from her linen cabinet. You obeyed silently.

You were instantly surrounded by warmth as she tucked you into her forest-scented covers. You heard her shuffling behind you before she walked around to her side in a new pair of boxers.

She laid next to you, pulling you into her chest as you breathed her in, sighing contently into her skin. She smelled so fucking good! You grinned.

She must’ve felt it as she pressed kisses to your head, “What’re you cheesing for?”

You shook your head and grinned harder, nestling deeper into her neck. She laughed lightly.

“We’ll talk in the morning, okay?” She whispered out to you.

You nodded, eyes shut.

You dreamt of pine-filled meadows.

OOOOOOWEEEE alright bookies that’s it :p i already got ideas 4 the next part LOOOOOL so yeah gonna start writing that soon. hope y’all liked it and the wait 4 the real smut was worth it. lots to comeeee

hope its proofread enough lol i always think that it is n then i go back and see a bunch of errors

pt. 6

shoutout to my wittle taglist🥺 love yall so bad n thank u for being interested in this little project i created :D @fandomshitpostingqueen, @nymphetkoo, @sawaagyapong , @gold-dustwomxn , @amitycat , @nil-eena , @elsivy , @constellieationn , @letsreadsomesins-shallwe :3

#ellie williams smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams #black!oc #black!reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams au #ellie williams x black!reader #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪#ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #scent of the pine. ̥*ೃ

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starcrossedxwriter · 2 months

Text

Wicked Fantasies Part 11.1 (MBJ x OC)

A/N: Ummm so welcome backkk! This is 11.1 because there's a second part to this chapter (I know... my self control keeps getting worse lolol) But I hope you enjoy!

TW: grief

“I’m never fucking drinking again,” Raven moaned to herself as she stumbled out of the comforts of bed. She felt like hell, if hell had a truck run over its head a few dozen times.

Raven generally considered herself an early riser but nothing could pull her out of bed that morning after what was, objectively, the dumbest night of her life. Part of her wished she had had one or two more drinks so she could have officially transitioned into the ‘blackout drunk’ phase. So that she would, at least, be spared the embarrassing memories. But no, every horrible moment of the night from dancing wildly at the bar to Michael saving her was etched into the crevices of her brain with shocking clarity.

Now, it was after noon and Raven still found herself wanting to be curled under her blanket asleep so she could escape her embarrassment.

A knock at the door pulled her out of her wallowing self pity. She did not make an attempt to move, expecting Tiffany to answer. However, when the voice of their landlord rang out and her knocking persisted, she quickly slid on her robe to open the door. She decided Mrs. Winters would have to get over the fact that she looked like death reincarnated.

“Rough night, dear?”

Raven grimaced for a moment, she did indeed look as terrible as she felt.

“Something like that,” Raven offered a tight smile, her body slumping against the door. “W-what can I do for you, Mrs. Winters?”

“Oh I’m just letting everyone know that we had a pipe burst on the floor above. We’ll have folks in and out and you might hear some noise and stuff. But if you see any leaking into your unit, give me a ring?”

“Of course. Will do. Thanks, have a good one,” Raven tried her best to politely shoo the woman away. However, she lingered.

“Oh I meant to tell you, that boyfriend of yours is just such a good egg. So kind and polite. Admittedly I haven’t met many famous people,” she laughed. “But you just don’t expect them to have such good manners, you know?”

Raven stopped. “My boyfriend?? Sorry… When was he here?”

“He stopped by this morning. Gave me a check for your rent for the rest of your lease. Oh and asked where your mailbox was, said he wanted to drop something in it.”

Raven was worried her jaw might come completely unhinged as the woman spoke.

He did what??

“Are you alright, dear??”

“Y-Yea, yea. Just… a bit of a surprise. Thank you.”

And with that, Raven immediately closed the door, not listening to the elderly woman’s reply.

“This nigga… I hate him,” she muttered to herself as she slumped against her door.

Every cell in her body knew that was not true. But she also knew that everything she had told him last night was still accurate. She was too tired to forgive him and not just him… anyone ever again. The world has used up all of her second chances and she did not have it in her heart to be disappointed by him again. The narrative in her brain was so set in stone, she did not think anything he could say or do would make her believe anything else. She could not even make herself go retrieve the note that was apparently waiting for her in her mailbox.

“Such a coward,” she grumbled as she flopped back into bed.

She stared at her phone for several minutes, her text thread with Michael open. She wondered what she could even say? Thank you?

She knew any conversations demanding she pay him back or he rescind the money would be moot. Even if she had the mental fortitude to argue with him right now, she would still lose. But she could not just accept it without trying to push back.

She typed and erased and typed and erased before lamely landing on:

Raven: You can’t pay my entire rent. I can’t accept that.

Raven: I don’t want that.

Michael: Yea you can. Told you… gonna show up every day tryin’ to fix us. You just gotta let me.

Raven: Money isn’t gonna fix this, Michael.

Michael: I know. But it can fix the tangible things I fucked up for you

Michael: So let me fix that for you.

Raven paused, as a warm sensation filled her, a warmth she had not felt in over a month now. The warmth of being cared for. She had never had someone take care of her without wanting something in return, except Michael. Even when their relationship was built on transactions, he still took care of her without needing or asking for something from her. The book deal, her rent were just the tangible examples of how he had stepped up to right the wrongs he could and she could not deny that those actions meant something, softened something inside her.

He was doing exactly what he promised he would do the night before. He was fixing what could be, he was showing with his actions that she meant something to him. And yet, that blockade that stopped that belief from taking root was still there, still prohibiting her from believing these actions were anything more than a skilled manipulation.

He would draw her back in, he would not change, and when he got ready, he would hurt her again. That’s what everyone in her life did.

Raven: It doesn’t change anything

Michael: I know… didn’t expect it to.

She tossed her phone to the side and grabbed her pillow, screaming into it as her frustration got the better of her. The complex web of conflicting feelings with Michael B. Jordan trapped at its center only continued to grow. She wanted him to let her go, to stop caring and trying and going out of his way for her because that fit into the narrative nailed to the cross of her brain, it would confirm her beliefs and fears.

But instead he continued to do the things that made her fall in love with him the first time, things that only reignited the dimmed but still existent flame that was her love for him. And she knew she would never get over him if she kept letting that happen, kept letting him in.

So she did not even respond. Instead, she just closed the thread and tossed her phone to the side.

“Let him go, Rae,” she demanded to herself. “You don’t deserve him and he doesn’t love you.” She repeated that a few times before it felt real again, before all that had started to soften was once again as solid as a block of ice.

***

“You look like shit,” Alex moaned as she watched Michael’s makeup artist, Shanta, struggle to make him look less like a living zombie ahead of his Oprah interview.

They were tucked away in a suite in Oprah's sprawling LA estate. It was difficult to make Michael feel poor but Oprah was certainly one of the few people in the world who could do so.

“Thanks, appreciate that.”

“You know I don’t believe in lying to you. Make sure you get those bags under his eyes,” she instructed. “Alright, this is it. Final stretch. Movie’s out and every review is stellar so far. Do this interview, it’ll air this week, Oscars on Sunday and then you can sleep. Though I bet it’s not the schedule keeping you up? Talked to her since the premiere?”

Michael forced his body not to sag at the mention of Raven as to not disturb the hard work of the woman trying to make him look alive after days of no sleep.

“She texted me about the rent thing the next morning. But it’s been radio silence ever since.”

It had only been a few days since the fiasco after the premiere but Michael’s concern for Raven had not diminished one bit. He could not let her go as she requested but he tried his hardest to respect her desire for space. His heart was stuck in the quicksand that was Raven and he had no desire to pull himself out. He wanted to be right there. He knew eventually he would have to accept defeat, accept that she had moved on. But he could not do it while she still questioned her own deservedness. She could hate him for the rest of his life, it would be her right. But his soul could not allow her to live thinking so lowly of herself. So if he had to pay 30 years of rent or call in favors to make her life easier and make her see that she deserved care and someone to sacrifice for her, he would do it. It was high time someone in her life put her above themselves.

“Well, at least she talked to you. That’s something. You’re doing what she asked. Sis has lived a life, she needs time and space. Keep doing what you're doing. Except for the no sleep. For the love of God, by the Oscars, please get a good night’s rest. That’s your night.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Alex…”

She scoffed. “You’ve won the big four, Mike. It’s not just because I believe you deserve it… Statistically, Best Actor is yours. The Oscars is your night. Have a little faith in yourself.”

“I hear you. I just don’t wann-”

“Excuse me?” A young man poked his head in the door. “Apologies for interrupting. I’m a PA. Just wanted to let you know that we’re almost ready? I can take you out to the garden when you’re ready.”

“Be right out. Thank you,” Alex called.

Shanta did her last quick finishing touches before Alex gave him her customary once over.

“Shanta, my girl, you’re a miracle worker per usual.”

They both offered Shanta their thanks, Michael rolling his shoulders before heading out the door to walk out to the gardens.

He had met and interviewed with Oprah once before so he was not particularly nervous. But despite having done millions of interviews, there was always a kernel of nerves right beforehand that he could just never shake.

He was dressed in slacks and a light black sweater, thankful for a cooler day as he walked out into her expansive gardens where the Oprah Winfrey waited for him. The cameras were already rolling, capturing footage that may or may not make into the hour-long special.

“The man of the hour!” she called, her arms stretched wide to wrap Michael in a hug. “Actually I think man of the year is more appropriate. Welcome. I can’t tell you how excited I am to have you here.”

“Thank you, thank you. It’s so good to be here.”

“Have a seat,” she gestured at the very comfy chair across from hers. “And we can jump right in.”

***

Raven’s head was propped against her fist as she stared at her computer. A sentence. That was the grand total of her hard work for that Wednesday afternoon. But it was something, she supposed. Weeks of hard work had amounted to maybe two or three pages of her book. She had been offering Angelina vague answers on her progress, ducking and dodging her to avoid admitting that there was no way in hell she could have a draft by March 15 like they talked about.

“Rae? You busy?”

She turned in her chair toward the door to find Tiffany’s head poking in.

“Nope… I’ll never be busy again at this rate,” she grumbled. “What’s up?”

“I just turned on the interview… if you want to watch?”

Raven scratched her head, unsure if she could even watch him? See him happy and thriving without her? Despite everything happening between them though, she could not pretend there was not a part of her that still wanted to celebrate this moment in his career. Interviewing with Oprah the week he was poised to win his first Oscar? How could she ever forgive herself if she did not watch this? Even if it hurts?

“I’ll… be there in a sec. Thanks, Tiff.”

Raven let out a deep sigh before she grabbed the blanket off her bed and dragged herself to the living room. The interview had already started and he looked gorgeous. Tired, she could tell, in the way he constantly had to readjust his posture, in the bags under his eyes that the makeup artist could not quite fully cover. But even at his worst, he looked captivatingly good.

Raven found herself studying him so intently that she did not even comprehend the words he and Oprah were sharing. She just watched him and his mannerisms, she focused on the glimmer in his eyes that sparked every so often. She missed looking into his eyes, missed how expressive they were.

This moment only amplified how much she missed him, missed hearing the deep baritone in his voice and the spark in his eyes when he spoke about his passions. She missed his bright and uninhibited laughter, how his hands were always on her in some way. She just missed him. But she had pushed him away, had told him to let her go. And even if he had not fully let go of her yet, she felt too scared to open that door again, even if her soul ached for her to. Particularly when he continued to try to show up for her in small ways.

And despite how angry she still wanted to be at him, she had never had anyone show up for her quite like this… try for her like he did. And everyday, her brain took up far more mental space than it should have, debating whether she should follow her foolish heart and forgive him or listen to her logical brain and cast him aside. Days passed and she still did not know the answer.

“So I’ll admit,” Raven’s ears finally started to pick up the conversation between Oprah and Michael, “I watched Waves more times than appropriate. But Gayle and I saw it at Sundance and we both thought it was just the most heartbreaking and poignant look at loss and grief that we had ever seen. While still being engaging and funny and so relatable. The journey your character goes through is just… I mean I think grief is one of the few universal experiences that we all will have at some point. And you really brought that to life through this character and his struggles with addiction. And the fact that you filmed this while engaged in completely different projects with complex characters like Killmonger in Black Panther and Adonis in Creed 3… I’m curious what you pulled from to give that performance?”

Michael shifted in his seat as he chuckled, Raven had missed how passionate he got about this project, even though he had been talking about it and doing press for it since they first started dating. She knew he had not truly expected the role to blow up in the ways it did but she could tell he was grateful for it, nonetheless.

“Well first, thank you. Yea aside from Oscar Grant, Andre was the hardest character I’ve ever played and he stretched me as an actor in ways, you know, I didn’t really expect? And I learned so much from him in his sort of journey through grief. You know, when I read the first script, the line ‘grief is the final stage in love’s evolution,’ really stuck out to me. When you lose someone, grief, this enduring pain you feel, is that love shifting and changing because it has nowhere to go, there’s no outlet for it anymore. And so, Andre really reframed my own thoughts on grief and loss and how I process that and allowed me to pull from personal experiences with loss to pour into that character.”

“Yea I will say, that line was one of my favorites. I sat with that long after the credits rolled.”

“Yea same. I remember sitting a-and thinking about that one for a while after reading it. And I loved that even in the more comedic moments of this movie, we still had those lines that made you wanna stop and really sit with what the characters were going through.”

“Definitely, I was dissecting this movie for weeks after. It’s just amazing. So I do want to shift gears to talk about this moment you're experiencing because of this movie. This really is the biggest moment of your career. You’re nominated for your first Oscar and a favorite to win, so far in 2023, you’ve won a SAG Award, Golden Globe, and BAFTA. And you, as of two days ago, just had your directorial debut in Creed 3. First question, how are you still awake?” Both of them shared a laugh. “But serious question, how has this moment felt? How does it feel to be having this moment at this stage of your career?”

“Oh wow, when you list it like that, I don’t know how I’m awake either,” he chuckled. “But seriously, you know… it’s been a ride. I know you’ve felt this too but you know, you don’t often take a moment to just pause and soak it in. You finish one interview or award show and your mind automatically just jumps to the next one. And I think what I’ve been trying to force myself to do in the later weeks of this insane time is just to slow down and enjoy it. Not rush through it and really enjoy the fruits of… really years of hard work and sacrifice. But that also means sitting with… you know, the challenges of this time too, which isn’t as rewarding,” he admitted with a sad smile. “But I’m growing and learning alot so it’s worth it.”

Oprah nodded. “You know I always appreciate when people don’t let the 24 hour news cycle and gossip sort of steal their thunder and moment from them. And I applaud you for sort of moving through the more gossipy side of the last few months with grace and maturity. But you haven’t really talked much publicly about those stories and the effect they have had on you. And you don’t have to get into it if you don’t want but I am curious on how you navigated that and really came out on the other side, from what I can see, stronger for it?”

Michael bowed his head and chuckled. “Um… you know a good friend of mine told me that she thought this was the most vulnerable and most genuine I had ever been publicly on this press tour and I think it’s because I’ve had to navigate some really personal stuff during this great but hectic public moment? And that’s new territory for me.”

“And I think that friend is right. I don’t think we have seen or learned this much about you ever.”

“Yea and I wish I could take some credit for it but… it was all one person: Raven Turner. And the way we met, now as the world knows, was extremely unconventional and I can admit that our relationship started as a complete lie. A lie I thought would help me be seen as this serious, mature man my team was worried I wasn’t. And I wasn’t,” he admitted. “I was cold and guarded and not at all the best version of myself. And while I regret how we started and trying to fool the world into thinking I’m something I’m not, there isn’t a bone in my body that regrets falling in love with her.”

He leaned forward a bit as he spoke. “Because all those walls and barriers we build around ourselves to survive in this world of Hollywood? To endure the criticisms and insanity we deal with? She's the first woman to see me. Not the actor and the money and the fame but just me. And in that, she saved me… without trying or intending to. She just loved me and loving her, choosing her is the single greatest decision I ever made. And I hate how this moment has fallen on her, how my terrible decisions led to these pretty disgusting misogynistic attacks on her. And I think my biggest regret is putting someone as pure as her in the line of fire like that and not doing enough to protect her. And you know, I have to live with that, which is tough.”

“You know I’ve interviewed thousands of people in my career and while I believe you have to change for yourself and on your own, I also have found that the ones who love us, really love us, are often the most powerful catalysts for change in our lives. I’ve certainly seen and experienced that in my own life and it’s important to spotlight those who were that catalyst.”

“Oh 100%. Especially when, I think this version of me was always there? I was just too hurt to trust anyone with it, so no one saw it. I buried me under this facade I thought was better? But I fell in love with a woman who taught me that you can’t be guarded, you can’t shut down just because you’re hurt. Life is about getting up every day, being authentically you, and reaching out and loving and risking your heart every time. And sometimes you’ll get swatted away and sometimes you’ll get an embrace. But you just deny yourself love when you don’t show up at all. So I’ve been trying to live by that more lately. Because she showed me what real strength and courage looks like. And I want to have that, I want to lead with that.”

“Wow… you know people are going to watch this and I think, applaud that vulnerability. It’s refreshing to me because I don’t think our world incentivizes or encourages people to admit when they aren’t being their best selves. So I think for you to do that, at a moment when you’re at the top of your game, is commendable.”

“She deserves to know the positive effect she’s had on my life. To be celebrated for how she supported me. And you know it’s not just me? When we first started dating, I remember her one stipulation was that we couldn’t go out on Wednesday evenings because she hosted a book club for kids at the library she worked at. And that was the most important thing to her, being there for them. The day of our first date, she spent an hour delivering books and SAT prep books to those same kids she worked just because. There’s just a selflessness to her that is truly admirable. And I think while people are attacking her and calling her these vile names because she made a certain choice during a hard time, they should know who she really is. A woman that would drop everything to help you even when you don’t really deserve it. A woman who I’ve seen give others all she had because they needed it more even when she did not have a backup plan for herself. I could honestly talk about her for the rest of this interview because she deserves celebration far more than I ever could. Genuinely good people don’t always get the shine they deserve, they don’t always get the love and care they deserve because we can often take them for granted. But no one deserves to be celebrated more than her, to be celebrated loudly more than she does.”

“I love that… she seems like quite the woman.”

“She is… and I hope she knows that.”

“So tell me about…”

The words faded away as his words tumbled through Raven’s head. They clashed jarringly against every belief she had internalized about herself, like metal against metal. But she found herself wanting to believe him. Believe the words a section of the world just heard. She wanted to believe that what he saw in her, even over the course of six months, was who she truly was. Not this broken, damaged scapegoat life had fashioned her into.

There has to be more than this, right?

Tiffany nudged her with a box of tissues in her hand. Raven had not even realized she was crying but she accepted them gratefully.

“Don’t know how I still have tears over this man left,” she whispered as she wiped her eyes.

“I don’t think those tears are because of him, sis.”

Raven sniffled and grabbed another tissue. “You m-might be onto something. I can’t watch anymore. Night, Tiffany.”

However, before she reached her bedroom, she heard Tiffany call her name.

“I know what he did… sucks. And hurts. But that’s a man who loves you, Rae. More than anything. After that? The only person in the world who still won’t believe it is you.”

She turned around to face her, the back of her hand wiping away a few more stray tears. “You know he said the same thing?”

“Well, I generally don’t think actors are that smart,” Tiffany admitted with a laugh. “But he’s right about that. You deserve to believe good things about yourself, we all do.”

“Nothing good has ever lasted… I always ruin it somehow. I tried to believe I deserved him and life proved that I didn’t,” she answered, her voice small. “D-Don’t have it in me to try again.”

“Raven… I know we aren’t best friends or anything. But how many times have I watched you forgiven your dad and sister? Let them back in, try to make things right with them? Try to build the family you want?”

“Too many…”

“Right… So why does Michael only get one shot when you found the strength to give them 100? When he’s the one actually showing up for you? He’s the one who actually is trying to earn another chance?”

“It’s not that simple and you know it.”

“I know that the only person denying you happiness right now… is you. You push away the good people and things in your life because you feel like you don’t deserve it but no one would be here if you didn’t. Michael, the kids in your book club… me. I don’t keep signing leases with you because you’re a terrible person who ruins everything, no one has a gun to our heads, Rae. We’re here because you do deserve it.”

“Tiff…”

“Nope, shut up. This pity party is getting old and tired. It doesn’t matter what I think of you… or what Michael thinks or anyone out there.” She gestured toward the window. “All that matters is the narrative you’ve created and until you decide to believe something else, all you’re going to do is push people away and fuck up and self sabotage because it’s all you think you deserve. You gotta wake up and do some fucking work, girl. Cause until you figure out how to erase this narrative from your brain, you’ll never be happy. And you’ll never fall in love with anyone except for someone who treats you like crap. You’ll never build your own family. You’ll never finish your book or have another fulfilling career. You’ll just be stuck in this broken version of yourself alone… forever. And I’ve seen a few different versions of you over the last two years but this is by far the most pitiful.”

Raven had never heard Tiffany be so blunt. The words were biting but she could not deny that some of them rang true in her ears. And that was always the hardest information to hear.

“Damn… tell me how you really feel.”

“The soft gentle love wasn’t resonating clearly so had to go with a different tactic…. Just think about it. And once you fix all this shit and move to a mansion in the hills, don’t forget about me.” She winked at her, causing Raven’s jaw to drop slightly.

“How do you even know that’s gonna happen?”

She shrugged and grabbed the remote to press play, Raven not even noticing that she paused it.

“Just got a good feeling about the two of you. Now go so I can lust after him in peace while he's still single. Kidding! Kinda..."

Raven let out a small laugh as she shook her head. "I know you're not kidding. Night, Tiff.”

She slid into her bed, her only refuge of late, and stared at the ceiling. She was surprised she was not tired of looking at it by now. Michael and Tiffany’s words wrestled with her own thoughts for hours

What was her problem, really? It was not that what Michael did was unforgivable because it wasn’t. Some distant part of her, too quiet to break through the noise of her anger, always wondered if there was more to the story, believed that he had to have had some reason. But she was too angry to allow him to explain. It just became vicious ammunition that no one could ever love her or care about her… that she was the problem.

Well, that’s true… no one’s ever loved you. And everyone who does leaves.

She supposed her mother must have loved her, but she would never know. She would never feel it. And her grandmother’s love was so distant, so long ago, that it no longer felt tangible, was no longer a tether to anchor her self worth to something positive.

Instead, the only thing that tethered her sense of self worth to anything was her family’s disdain. Disdain that made her question what Michael could’ve seen in her, how he could ever love someone like her? That disdain which made it far easier to believe that what he did was proof that he did not love her than that he possibly did do it to protect her in some weird way. No other thought could live long enough in her brain to take hold.

And she did not know if doing what Tiffany suggested would fix that. There was not enough time in the world for her muster the courage to interrogate and confront the source of these feelings. She had hoped she would never have to see her family again. Some days, never felt like too soon.

But she knew she could not avoid it. They were the root cause, the narrative in her head was fueled and sustained by them. And screaming at them across the Thanksgiving table and never speaking to them again was not the closure she needed. She thought she had dropped the weight that was her family when she cut them off. But she was still dragging all the luggage they gave her around and it was time to give it back.

She knew her family did not want to see her either, knew it would be difficult to get them to even speak to her after everything. But she knew she had to try… because she knew there had to be more to life than this. That she had not been born to only suffer through life instead of live it. So she needed to confront her demons for herself, even if her relationship with them did not change one bit.

She grabbed her computer and her wallet. It was time to go home.

***

Raven’s eyes remained trained on her dad’s house across the street as she sat in her rental car. She was almost shocked that none of her family’s nosy neighbors had not called the police yet as she sat there for nearly an hour, summoning the courage to actually go inside.

She had felt so sure this was what she needed when she bought her plane ticket. And that confidence did not waver when she stepped onto the plane or during the long journey from LAX to Charlotte, NC. However, once she was in her rental car, she found herself waffling, aimlessly driving around for hours. Her brain seemed unable to direct her to the place she knew she needed to go. Home.

She just could not make herself do it… not yet anyway. So she did not. Instead, she finally went to her hotel to try to get some rest and her night’s rest turned into the entire Friday holed up in her hotel. She had not booked a return ticket, prayerful and hopeful that there would be a reason to stick around for a few days. But that also meant she did not have the incentive of time to make her move faster.

But she could not even make herself do this. Because she did not know how to be brave like this. Her life had been nothing but running from pain and confrontation. This was so contrary to that. She did not know how to do any of this. She tossed and turned all night, unable to get any sleep particularly when there was only one person who she wanted to talk to, wanted to seek courage and strength from. Because when she felt scared, when she did not feel strong, he was the only person she wanted to reach for. But she was not sure he would even answer. She had pushed him away, told him she needed space.

But she had not felt like she could do this alone. So last night, she called him.

“Rae! Everything ok?” he asked immediately, his question met with silence.

Raven did not know what to say and regret filled her like ice water in her veins. But she knew it was too late to hang up, she had to see it through. She paid for that moment of weakness when she hit the call button as her throat closed at the sound of her voice. She found it impossible to speak, even if she knew what words to say.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready, Rae. Got all night for you.”

And she knew he was not just talking about waiting for her to speak.

“Why?” she whispered, the simple word coming out in a strangled sound as she tried to push past the tightness in her throat.

“Why what?”

“Why even answer after everything I said to you? W-why do you keep trying?”

“Because I love you,” he answered simply. “And you’re worth it. I’ll keep reaching out, baby girl. Even when you swat me away.”

“You might be the only person who thinks that,” she whispered back as a tear fell.

“I don’t think that’s true. But even if it was, knowing one person is in your corner is all you need sometimes.”

She laughed lightly. “That press tour got you only speaking in motivational boxing terms or something?”

His deep laughter filled her ears and filled her soul with such joy that she had forgotten. She had forgotten what these moments felt like, the two of them on the phone or curled up together in bed, just talking. She missed it… she missed him. But she could not say it, could not bring herself to pull her body out of the water to make that long trek back up the cliff to where he waited for her. Everything in her brain screamed at her that she couldn’t do it, that she did not have it in her. And she hated herself for it. Hated how she clung to the ice barriers around her heart, even though they were utterly fractured and ready to fall. She just was not ready yet.

She let out a shuddering breath as she hastily wiped away her falling tears. “I… don’t know why I called. I s-shouldn’t have called.”

“Call me anytime, Rae. I’ll always answer. I’ll always show up for you. I hope you know that… at least.”

“Y-Yea… I think I do… or at least, it’s getting harder to deny it,” she revealed. “Your interview with Oprah… it was really good,” she offered lamely.

“You watched??” she could hear the surprise in his voice.

“Yea… I almost didn’t,” she admitted. “But I caught most of it. Did you mean it? Everything you said?”

“Every single word.” There was no arguing with the definitive tone in his voice. “I get that you don’t trust me anymore. I lied and kept secrets. But one thing I never lied about is how much I love you.”

Her eyes clenched shut for a moment. That was one thing he had always been consistent about, her ears had just been perpetually shut to it.

“I… um… I gotta go. Early day tomorrow,” she lied as she sniffled. “I’m sorry for bothering you. Bye, Michael.”

She was not sure what she had expected to get from that call and, at first, it felt as if she only got a firm kick in the heart for it. But for the first time since she landed, Raven had enough strength to finally drive to her family’s house. She had rolled her eyes at his boxing motivational quotes but hearing someone say they were in her corner, that had given her courage. To just feel like someone was behind her, even if she was alone, that meant something to her.

She took a deep breath and got out of her car, forcing her legs to carry her to the front door.

Her rounds of knocks went unanswered, Raven getting slightly frustrated but determined not to leave the porch. If she turned around and walked away, she’d never come back.

After an extremely brief internal debate, she decided to simply let herself in, deciding that since she contributed to the mortgage, she had a right to come in as she pleased. And her father still, foolishly, kept a spare key underneath the welcome mat.

Though she had not been to her family’s home in two years or so, it still looked the same. Her father’s favorite work boots were thrown haphazardly at the door, several pairs of her sister’s shoes lined up next to them. She was an utter mess but she was, at least, somewhat neat. And it still felt… cold. And it had nothing to do with the cold winter east coast weather. The house had always felt like that, void of warmth and love that made a home a home.

“Kiara?” she called out. “Dad?” However, she was met with utter silence.

Part of her supposed she was thankful they were not home and that they had not just ignored her or something. She stood in the living room, staring around the room at the pictures that lined the walls and shelves. So many of her mom, her dad, and Kiara but there were none of her. That was not a surprise, it had always been that way. But that did not make it sting any less. All they had ever wanted was to erase her from their lives and if a stranger walked into this house, it would be as if she never existed.

She started up the stairs, her eyes refusing to linger long on any of the photos there. They were all lies anyway, a picture perfect family that did not exist because she had been born. She decided to ascend to the attic once she made it upstairs. Because that was where all her grandmother’s and some of her own things now lived. She had never really gone through her grandmother’s things after she passed, no one aside from her dad to pack them up. But she knew there was so much of their lives, so many memories she had forgotten of the one person who loved her, forgotten in those boxes that she now desperately needed to remember.

She ignored how narrow the opening to the attic was, realizing that it had been easier to maneuver up here when she was a young teenager. Everything was still neatly packed away as if her grandmother would be back one day to pick it up.

She started to open each box, pulling out and examining her grandmother’s things, so many beautiful things forgotten in this attic no one went into. For the first time in nearly two decades, she felt close to the only maternal figure she had ever had, felt like her grandmother’s hand was on her shoulder as she reminisced on their short but well-lived time together.

She found the old costume jewelry her grandmother used to let her play with, laughing to herself as she thought back to dressing up in front of her vanity mirror pretending to be a model or whatever silly idea the pair had thought up. She almost cried as she found a very crumpled piece of paper with the last story she gave her grandmother to read before she died, a random short story that she had written for class. She had not realized, as she found a folder, just how many of her stories her grandmother had kept.

A gold glint caught her attention, Raven reaching into a giant box to find a shoe box. Raven had seen that box 100 times but her grandmother had never let her touch it, claiming that it held priceless family heirlooms that she did not want Raven or Kiara to mess up. Raven rolled her eyes that something her grandmother had valued so much had been discarded and forgotten haphazardly at the bottom of this box.

Finally giving into her childhood curiosity, she opened it. It was still filled with things, part of her thankful that Kiara had never found it. The jewelry and pieces in it were gorgeous and indeed priceless. She took her time as she examined each one, wondering if they had belonged to her mother or her grandmother or some other relative she never met. However, it was what existed underneath the jewelry that caught her eye: piles of tied up envelopes, one with her name on it and one with Kiara’s.

The handwriting was not her grandmother’s, which made Raven even more curious.

She pulled out the stack with her name on it and undid the thin ribbon that tied them together. There were ten letters there in total, each one with a different note scribbled on the envelope.

To Raven on your 18th birthday

To Raven on high school graduation

To Raven after your first love

To Raven after your first heartbreak

To Raven on college graduation

To Raven on your wedding day

She only had to flip through a few of them to realize who they were from. Her mom.

“You’re killing me,” she muttered to the sky, unsure if she was speaking to God, her grandmother, her mother or all three.

Her hands trembled slightly as she ripped open the one on top, addressed to her on her 18th birthday. These were some of the only words her mother would get to say to her, she did not care how long ago she should have read it. She would savor each one.

To my sweet darling girl,

If you are reading this, it means that I am not physically there with you on your birthday. It means that I’ve missed 18 birthdays and too many milestones to write a letter for and for that, I am sorry. You might be wondering why there is not a letter for all those milestones and birthdays that have taken place but this felt like the best place to start and the appropriate age for reading the musings of a dying woman. If there’s even such a thing.

We learned your gender today. Another sweet girl. If the doctor somehow got it wrong, these letters will be incredibly awkward. But I know they are right. Because you, my darling girl, are the manifestation of my wildest dreams. I dreamed of you almost a year ago, this beautiful girl with half my face but all of my spirit and personality. And every night since then, I prayed, begged God to make that dream a reality… no matter the cost. And he did.

I know my body is not strong enough to be your mother, to be around to be the mother someone as brilliant as you will deserve. But I hope you know that deciding to have you and keep you, regardless of the risks, is the single greatest decision I ever made. You were not an accident or a misfortune given to me. You are my dreams. And if my last moments on this earth are spent looking at you, it will have been worth it.

I waited until 18 to start these letters because I worried a child could never understand the choice I made. And you may still not. And if you resent me for leaving you before you could know me, I understand that too. But I hope that through these letters, you will get to know me. And you will feel some semblance of the immense love I have for you.

I don’t have much advice because you’ve likely heard it all at this point. But the two most important things I can tell you, that I wish someone had told 18 year old me, is to know that failure is part of the journey. Your grandmother used to always tell me to keep reaching out your hand even if it doesn’t work. I didn’t really understand it soon enough but I hope you do. Life is about risks and if you don’t reach out your hand out of fear, you’ll protect yourself from pain but you will also miss out on the gifts God is trying to hand you. As a daughter, I hated to admit it, but mama was right about that… and so many other things.

And finally, more importantly than anything else I could offer you in these letters, please remember every day that you are so, so loved.

Know that regardless of what happened to me, I loved you with every fiber of my being until my last breath. Know that you were a gift from God. And every day you venture out into this world, know that you are worthy of so much because you were so loved from the moment you were dreamed up. Do not let anyone or whatever will happen to you in what I pray is a long, rich, happy life diminish that light, diminish your worth. I know how special you are and I don’t even know your name yet. And while I hope that your father and grandmother will affirm you daily, you don’t need other people to tell you that you are special. You have to know it for yourself. That’s the most important advice I can give you. Know who you are and your worth and take up as much space in this world as you want. And as long as you never forget how special you are… how deserving you are, you’ll move through this world shining bright. And the world will be forced to know it too and move to give you what you deserve. It’s not much and a bit cliche perhaps but I’ve been torn down enough to know that sometimes we all need the reminder. But those are stories for another letter.

By the time I write my next letter, I promise I will have picked out a name for you. I read a book the other day where the main character was named Raven… I had not thought of it before but I like it.

Happy Birthday.

Love,

Mom

The river of tears streaming down Raven’s face splashed against the slanted handwriting on the page, Raven quickly whisking them away so the words would remain legible. Raven did not even know how long she sat there staring at the words on the page, her heart bursting with the knowledge that her mother’s hand had touched this very paper, that she had poured her heart and soul into every word etched into it.

It was like proof she had been real and not this entity Raven had conjured up in her head. Raven could not stop herself from ripping open all the ones that she should have gotten along the way. The one for her first love and the separate one on heartbreak were four pages each, and Raven did not pay attention to the clock as she absorbed each and every word.

Everything she had learned about her mother had been through her grandmother and she had always wondered if her grandmother told her things just to make her feel better. But she realized that her grandmother had been telling the truth, she and her mother were so much alike. She found herself nodding and laughing along to her mother’s stories and wisdom embedded in all those pages. She was a prolific storyteller too and an amazing writer, another trait Raven realized she must have inherited from her.

For the first time in 30 years, Raven did not feel weighed down by this unbearable guilt. She felt lighter than she had ever been in her entire life. Perhaps this was what God wanted her to find here, not a confrontation with her family, but these words. This tangible proof that her mother had chosen her, wanted her… loved her and that she had not ruined anything at all.

Her mother would not have wanted her to carry such guilt around for so long because there was nothing to be guilty about.

The letters were scattered across the attic floor when she heard the faint sound of their garage opening. She quickly folded up all of her letters and stuffed them back into the box, tucking it under her arm as she climbed out of the attic. She did not make much noise as she closed up the attic, just as she heard her father and sister close the garage door and enter the kitchen.

Their voices drifted up to her ears as she started to climb down the stairs, deciding that she might as well get the pure unpleasantness of this moment over with.

“Wait… you hear that? Is someone in the house??” she heard her sister ask, knowing that they both could hear her footsteps against the old floorboards.

“Don’t get your gun,” she called out as she started down the stairs. “It’s just me.”

She was greeted with less-than-welcoming expressions from her family, such disdain that it made her want to scurry away. But she did not. She had done enough of that in her life.

“Adding breaking and entering to your criminal activity, now?”

Raven scoffed as she placed the box on the kitchen counter that stood between her and her family.

“Don’t think you can break into a house you helped pay for?” she answered coolly. “And I’m not the one with a mug shot here if I remember correctly.”

“No you’re just the one who sold her cheap ass for a quick buck.”

Raven shook her head, opening and closing her mouth for a few moments as she tried to find the words.

“Yea I did… And I’m not proud of it,” Raven admitted. “But I won’t let you or anyone shame me for doing what I needed to do to survive. What helped the two of you survive too.” Raven scratched her head, realizing that trying to get closure from her family was unnecessary. Her mother’s words had given her all the closure she had ever needed. That’s what she had come home for.

“You know, I got a plane ready to rip you both a new one for 30 years of abuse and torture. To try to force you to admit that I’m not the villain you made me to be. But… I don’t need that anymore. Because the cross of guilt and shame you two forced onto my back for all these years isn’t one I should have to carry. But I did because I thought it was the only way to keep you two around. And even without you two in my life, I still drag that cross around because I thought I deserved it. But I realized today, way too late, that I don’t need a damn thing from either of you to put it down.”

“So you came here to what? To chastise us and steal?” her father asked, gesturing toward the box on the counter.

“You can’t steal things that belong to you. These are letters mom wrote to me,” she lifted the open letters out before sliding the unopened pile to her sister. “And to you.”

“Your mother wrote these?” he asked, his jaw tensing as he looked down at the stack.

“Yeah, she did. You’ll enjoy yours… she was a really good storyteller,” she glanced at Kiara. “These letters just told me something I should’ve realized long before Thanksgiving. That cross? That guilt? It isn’t mine. And I am done wasting my life trying to rectify the mistake of being born. Because it wasn’t a mistake. She chose me… prayed for a second daughter knowing the cost and she decided it was worth it. And hearing her say that? That’s all I need to know that I deserve so much more than this… so much more than you.” She took a deep breath. “Being a grieving husband isn’t an excuse to be a terrible father and I’ll just be grateful I found some way to survive you and this. And jealousy doesn’t give you the right to be a shitty sister.”

“What the fuck do I have to be jealous of??”

“I always wondered that. But reading those letters… I finally got it. Because even as a failed author and prostitute, I’m everything she was. Grandma used to always say I had her personality… her talent. I always thought she was lying to make me feel better. But you knew she wasn’t and you could never stand it. Couldn’t stand that I was more like her than you.” For the first time, her sister was speechless. A good look on her in Raven’s opinion. “Mom wanted so much better for me than this and I’m gonna go and find it. Because I’ve wasted too much energy trying to earn the love of people who don’t deserve it. So if you want to go to your graves hating me, making me the scapegoat for every problem in your miserable lives, have at it. But know that I don’t hate you even after all this. I won’t be weighed down anymore by any feelings toward either of you ever again. You aren’t worth it.”

Raven pulled herself to full height and rolled her shoulder back as she scooped up the box and folder she had taken from her grandmother’s stuff.

“Now I’m gonna go and have that long… rich and happy life mom wanted for me. And I hope you two do the same.”

She did not look behind her as she walked away, a soft smile on her face as she walked out of her family’s house for the last time.

She let out a long laugh as she sat in her car, so much of the weight she had been carrying around gone. It did not feel sad like when she cut off her family at Thanksgiving. She finally felt as if she had cut the anchor away and she could float away, she could move forward and heal all the broken pieces of herself that they had gleefully chipped away at.

When she got back to her hotel room, she just kept rereading her mom’s words. She would memorize each letter at this point. A part of her desperately wanted to open the other ones but she had not reached those milestones just yet so she left them where they were. For some reason, she worried her mother would disapprove of her breaking into them early.

One line of five letters she read and reread stuck to her bones above all else. And of course, as if her mother had known, it was embedded in the letter for her first love. Love… the thing that had cracked her wide open and brought her to this moment in the first place.

You’d be surprised to know that this was the hardest of the letters to write. Because everyone has some prolific idea of what love is and feels like. And I realized I don’t… because I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the love I pray you are as you read this. That’s not to say I don’t love your father, I do. But I want something different than convenience for you. I hope that the love you feel is safe, allows you to feel the full spectrum of what it means to be human - strong and vulnerable, insecure and confident, boisterous and timid. I hope it feels like stepping out of the cold air and into a warm embrace. I hope it is loud and unapologetic because you deserve nothing less. And I hope it makes you feel so enraptured that everything else in the world goes quiet. And lastly, I hope, more than anything, that it feels like home. That when you’re in this person’s embrace, you feel as if your soul finally landed right where it is supposed to be.

Her eyes scanned that passage over and over again, realizing that she had found the exact love her mother described. She had come back here thinking she was coming home. But this wasn’t home at all. Home was where he was. And he was back in LA, about to prepare for the biggest night of his life in 24 hours. And regardless of whatever trust needed to be rebuilt and conversations needed to be had, she could not allow herself to miss it. She could not allow herself to not show up for him.

Raven scrambled to find her phone as it was hidden beneath sheets of paper. She scrolled through, praying she had not deleted a long forgotten group thread that housed one number she had once thought she would never need but now was the most important phone number in the world.

She almost shouted praises to God when she found it, clicking the call button on the unsaved number. She paced up and down beside her bed as every agonizing ring dragged on.

“Didn’t think I’d see your name pop up on my phone ever again.”

Raven let out a sigh of relief as her voice filled her ears. “I know… me either. But I need a favor.”

“Does it involve a certain award show tomorrow night?”

“Yes. Is it too late?”

“Yea it is.” she knew Alex could hear the tiny sigh of sadness she let out. “For anyone but me. I’ve earned enough favors around here to create a miracle or two.”

“Really?? Cause I need like more than one or two miracles… a dress, hair, makeup… hell a flight from Charlotte to make it back in time. Without him knowing?”

“Consider all of it done. Hope you don’t mind getting up at the ass crack of dawn though.” Alex asked, Raven hearing the smile in her tone.

“For him… I’ll get up anytime.”

“Good. Then I'll take care of everything... I'll have to tell his mom but she'll love this. And probably be happy as hell that she doesn't have to go anymore. I'll text you details in an hour."

"An hour?? That's all you need??"

"You're new here so I'm gonna choose to not be offended by that."

"Noted." She was about to hang up when she stopped herself. “Hey… Alex? Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously. Just make sure your ass is on that plane and in LAX tomorrow when Allen picks you up, got it?”

Raven chuckled. “Yea I got it. See you tomorrow.”

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r @dezzy154

***

A/N: So now will y'all stop yelling at me LOLOL our good sis is going back to her man! We love to see it! How surprised do we think Michael's going to be? Part 11.2 will be the Oscars! Drop a comment and let me know what you thought! And as always, thanks for reading!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #michael b jordan x reader #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii

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willyoubemycherryy · 16 days

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Order➬𝑭𝒊𝒛𝒛𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒎𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑱𝒐𝒆 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒛

“Well look at you…”

𝑰𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔: 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑, 𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚'𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏

☘︎︎.

It would be so cute when it was done. You just had to trust the process.

Sitting in the middle of Joe’s room covered in all kinds of glitter, patches, thread, and other crafty things. You were adding designs to a jacket you recently bought for him because you thought he’d look so good in it….after you gave it some razzle dazzle.

Now in your defense, it wasn’t gonna take long. It wasn’t supposed to. It was just sewing some cute patches on a cute jacket that you got your more than cute boyfriend. But…you’d never been particularly good at sewing or minding the time, so there’s that.

You can only imagine how you look as the door suddenly opens and Joe walks in, freezing as he looks at you. There’s a mess of supplies all around you and you…

You’re so cute, sitting on your knees in patterned stockings wearing one of those mini skirts you love so much, lovely hair pinned up away from your pretty face as your glossy lips move into a pout as you bat your lashes at him, shooing him with a manicured hand and he’s never been more smitten.

“Ugh! Joeee!! Now it won’t be a surprise! Go! Shoo! Off with you!” You yell, trying to be stern even as your cheeks heat under his love struck gaze.

“Well look at you…”

The soft tone of his low voice makes your heart skip a beat as you look down at your unfinished project. You like him too much to even stay frustrated with him.

“It’s for you…but it’s not done yet so you have to wait even though you wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t back so early”, you catch yourself rambling because he’s closer, kneeling down in front of you as he smiles, still looking at you like you were cloud 9 personified.

Honestly, to him, it doesn’t matter that you’re not finished because the fact that you were thinking of him enough to do something for him means more than you’ll ever know. You’re so sweet on him that it makes him melt as he bends down to kiss you tenderly.

“Thank you, you’re a doll. I love it, really.” You flush entirely, down to your toes as you giggle, soaking up his affection.

“Practice ended early so that’s why I’m back early and I’m glad I am. You look even prettier today”, he’s going to give you heart failure if he keeps sweet talking you like this, you whine.

“You’re trouble today and while I very much enjoy it, it’s also distracting so…” Joe laughs because usually it’s you flustering him, not the other way around.

“Are you kicking me out my room, doll?”

Suppressing a smile, you nod.

“Unfortunately, but not for long. You’ll just have to go play or something in the meantime.” The way he quirks his eyebrow as a slow smirk grows on his face makes you rush to correct yourself.

“Not like that!” He bursts into more laughter and you pull him into a kiss to shut him up.

You separate and he puts a hand up in surrender.

“Alright, I’m gone. Be back in 40?” You nod and he gets up to go.

“Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave!” The immediate shade of red on the tips on his ears has you struggling to compose yourself as you laugh, the door swinging shut behind him as his heart beats faster.

Already looking forward to 40 minutes from now.

(Y’all listen to birds of a feather I’m in love)

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #asks #answered💛🎀#the boys in the boat #joe rantz #joe rantz x reader #fluff #callum turner fluff

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soobnny · 2 years

Text

month of may — lee heeseung. fake dating. unrequited love. fluff and angst. best friends to ?

synopsis. you don’t think you’d ever want to go back to the month of may; the month lee heeseung asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend (2.6k words)

note. no warnings for this one :) just a little angsty i hope u enjoy this it’s inspired by the song “buwan ng mayo” oh n thank u to my bff yun for beta reading this <3

part 2

It takes seven seconds for Lee Heeseung to ruin years-worth of hiding your feelings.

“Do you think you could pretend to be my girlfriend for the month of May?”, he asks you this as the pair of you walk home together after a long day of classes, just like you always do.

The question leaves you with your eyes wide and mouth agape, feet glued to the ground. It had come out so easily from him, as if he was simply asking you what you had eaten for dinner. He laughs at your obviously confused gaze, halting his own steps so he could patiently wait for your answer.

“Excuse me?” You blink up at the boy, tilting your head. He simply repeats his question – “Could you pretend to be my girlfriend for the month of May?”

“I know, I heard you, but… why?”

Heeseung laughs quietly to himself, shuffling his feet in place out of nervousness before he lets his eyes rest on yours. “You remember Yujin, right?”

You nod your head.

Of course you remember Yujin.

Before it was _____ and Heeseung, it had been _____, Heeseung, and Yujin. The three of you had lived in the same neighborhood a few years back, the common factor that had led to your uncanny friendship.

Growing up together was a funny thing, and somewhere along the lines, Heeseung had fallen in love with Yujin, and you found yourself at your first crossroad. How could you be in love with someone while trying to set them up with your other best friend?

For a few years, it was like thin ice. You thread along your friendship lightly and carefully, trying not to shatter the walls you had built. But you survived. The three of you survived with Heeseung helplessly in love with Yujin, and you with Heeseung. You survived without recklessly telling Heeseung how you felt, without losing your friends.

Hiding the way you felt became second-nature to you.

A major shift happened in your friendship when Yujin had to go back to the United States where her mother was. When Yujin leaves, Heeseung doesn’t cry. He simply holds your hand and leads the two of you out of the airport and back home.

He tells you of his regrets, of not confessing soon enough, and you wonder if you’d share the same regrets as Heeseung in a few years. Will there come a time when you’d lose him and feel this way too?

“Of course I remember Yujin.”

Your heart drops to your stomach when you recognize the same lovesick smile plastered on his face. You don’t think this favor will lead to anything good.

“She’s coming back here for a bit.”

“She’s coming back?” Heeseung nods, leading an arm to rest on the small of your back so the pair of you could start walking again. “That’s great! But, what does that have to do with… with what you just asked me?”

“We called earlier. I don’t even remember most of it, but she said she was coming here for around a month, and asked if we were finally together? I don’t know why I said yes. Maybe I wanted to show her I’m no longer as hung up on her as I was… but yeah. I said yes, and that’s why I’m asking.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s a shock, and you totally don’t have to do it. I’m just gonna call her and figure out how to say that I lied. Unless it’s alright with you, but I know it’s kind of a weird favor to ask your best friend.”

Heeseung’s favor is a dangerous thing. It’s risking the collapse of the walls you had built for yourself even if you’ve long since mastered how to suppress your thoughts and feelings. This was like an open invitation to give Heeseung your heart and say — here, you can have it, I’ve always been in love with you anyway!

You don’t think you could do it, but your words betray you as quickly as you had tried to shut it down.

“Okay.”

May comes a little too quickly than you would’ve liked, and you don’t understand how Heeseung is so good at pretending to be your boyfriend.

It feels too real.

He walks you home with your hands intertwined, and it terrifies you. It terrifies you that you might get used to the way his hand feels against yours, you might get used to the sweet and short kisses to your cheeks, you might get used to his mock words of affection.

The truth behind his actions isn’t real, not in the way you think, not in the way you wish it was. So why does he have to reach for your hand when there isn’t a need to?

Yujin comes home a week later for the marriage of a cousin. She congratulates the pair of you, exclaiming how she had always known that you and Heeseung were meant for each other. She doesn’t catch the way Heeseung looks at her with stars in his eyes, but you do.

It doesn’t take long for the three of you to fall easily into a routine again. Everything smoothly settled into place as you spent your free days hanging out together and catching up. Your friendship with Yujin started right back where it left off, and it was wonderful.

You don’t realize how much you’ve missed her until you catch light of her teasing, the same way she always did a few years ago. She still begs to dress you up when you plan to hangout, still orders the same coffee, still smiles the same way. In that, you were relieved that nothing felt awkward or forced.

Yujin still felt the same, and maybe that’s why you see Heeseung’s walls crumble and fall for her all over again.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” You appeared in front of Heeseung and Yujin at a coffee shop by the corner of your neighborhood. They ask you what caught you up, and you tell them about homework, and as boring as it sounded, they still listen.

“I’m gonna go order something real quick.” You flash a quick smile, but before you could turn to the counter, a hand wrapped around your wrist stops you and you’re greeted with the sight of a shyly smiling Heeseung. “It’s alright, I already ordered for you.”

“He memorizes your coffee order?” Yujin coos at the (fake) couple in front of her, chin on the palm of her hands as she stares off dreamily, wondering when someone would do that for her too.

You know Heeseung knows her order by heart as well.

The boy pulls you down to sit at the empty seat right next to him, and he leans in to kiss your cheek in greeting. You pretend to be unfazed, but the heat in your cheeks say otherwise.

The conversation flows naturally once your coffee orders arrive, jumping from banter to reminiscing without a single pause. You laugh heartily at each other’s jokes, and the whole time, Heeseung has a hand rested on your thigh.

“Speaking of romance, how’d you two finally confess your feelings for each other?” Yujin leans back in her seat with an amused grin on her face. “Because, not to be a know-it-all, but I always knew it’d be the two of you.”

You watched as Heeseung struggled to make eye contact with her.

“It just… sort of happened?” You contemplated your words before saying anything at all.

“Just sort of happened?” Yujin’s voice is one of disbelief as she raises an eyebrow at you, arms crossed. “Come on, there must be a cuter backstory.” She prods, giggling at all the possibilities of Heeseung asking you out.

“It happened along the lines of me walking her home everyday, and her waiting for me to finish practice even though it’d run really long, or when I’d instantly save her a seat at school. I think… I think it was the little trivial things that we do for each other, when I realized she meant more to me than a best friend.”

Heeseung is smiling down at his hands, fiddling with his mug as he refuses to make eye contact with you. His response leaves you speechless, and you’re left to wonder how good of a liar Lee Heeseung is. Something in the way your stomach dropped was deeply unsettling.

“That’s so cute.” Yujin says so softly, hands cupping her cheeks as she smiles at her two best friends. It’s clear she’s happy with the outcome of events.

“It’s not all that cute all the time, you know! His friends are absolute menaces, and he still enjoys hiding my things sometimes.” You reply, nudging Heeseung’s side playfully in an attempt to lighten the mood at the table.

He laughs at this, and it leads to another conversation about his friends, and stories similar fly out from Yujin as well. The conversation was great, genuine, and you wished Yujin would just stay so you could have this back.

When she has to leave early to go to dress rehearsals as one of the bridesmaids, you’re left alone with Heeseung who has seated slightly closer to you than he did almost an hour ago. His proximity and the words he had said a bit ago has you repeating the mantra you’ve been drilling into your head for the past week.

This is all pretend. None of this is real.

“You okay?”

Heeseung peeks at you when he notices the faraway look in your eyes, and it’s enough to snap you out of your trance for a moment.

“Yeah, all good.”

“We were pretty convincing, weren’t we?” Heeseung is laughing quietly, pinching at your side teasingly. “If I didn’t know this was fake, I would’ve believed it myself!”

You force a smile at the statement, and you hope it looks a little convincing to Heeseung.

Still, you wonder what he gets out of this arrangement. It wasn’t like it was some ploy to get him with Yujin (he had told you he couldn’t, she was leaving again and it’d be too hard to commit to a long distance relationship). Was it simply to prove to her he wasn’t in love with her anymore? It’s not like she knew in the first place.

You reason, maybe this is how he can cope, by pretending he has his life together, pretending that he’s way over her, more to convince himself than anyone else - so things don’t have to hurt as much when she leaves again.

The wedding was a straightforward event, something that should’ve been easy to get through. You don’t understand why Heeseung’s arm wrapped around your waist makes the night so much more difficult to handle.

The ceremony was beautiful, but there was a lingering weight in your chest. At one point, you’ve shuffled out of your seat to use the bathroom, but when you return, you find Heeseung waiting for you. He smiles when he spots you, and he gently scolds you not to disappear without telling him next time.

He didn’t need to make it feel so real.

But you also tell yourself, it doesn’t have to matter so much. You know this is all pretend, and pretending is nothing new to you. None of this matters, it doesn’t have to affect you this much.

“Dance with me?” The way he says it is not a request so much as it is a statement. When you see him with his hand outstretched at you and a small smile planted on his lips, you realize, this means everything to you.

He means everything to you.

You’re not quite sure when you take his hand, or if you were the one to take it at all, but his hand is firmly wrapped around your waist as you sway beneath the twinkling light of the moon and the stars.

He’s smiling at you like he’s in love with you, and you almost believe it for a second.

You choose to close your eyes, squeezing it shut tightly as you lean your head against his shoulder. You feel too helpless to stop your heart from leaping out of your throat as he leads you in the middle of the beautiful garden, amongst other dancing couples.

You can’t help but think back to the events of the month. The memories of Heeseung as your pretend boyfriend smells like surprise tulips and coffee handed to you as he walks you to school. It feels like his hand in yours and the warmth of his hugs as he thanks you for waiting for him after his club ends particularly late.

Heeseung’s hand feels a little more calloused now.

“I’m not a very good dancer, Hee.” He shakes his head, reassuring you it’s alright as he draws you closer and closer to his chest. You can hear his heartbeat.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” You know he’s looking down at you, and you’re forced to look up and meet his eyes. How is he smiling like that? Did he always smile like that?

Your facade is slipping.

You blink up at him before looking around the venue. “Not a big fan of dancing.”

This makes him laugh, head tilted back a little. When he looks back at you, you notice a difference in his smile. The atmosphere shifts back.

“Thanks for doing this for me.” There’s sincerity in his voice and you laugh pathetically at yourself for allowing this to happen. “It’s really no problem.”

“Was I a good boyfriend for the month?” You know he means it as a joke, just like your whole pretend relationship, but you wonder how you could tell him he’s been the best boyfriend – that he played his part so well, it takes everything in you not to believe this is real every single day.

(You made me fall deeper in love with you.)

“You were alright.”

Heeseung shakes his head at your response, another laugh escaping his lips. How do you tell him to stop smiling like that?

When he brings his head back, you notice his gaze is no longer on you. He’s staring off somewhere else and when you follow his line of direction, you see Yujin standing beautifully by herself.

“Wanna go dance with her?” The smile you give him is genuine as you push him to talk to her alone, the way he’s been avoiding this whole month. “I don’t know if I can.” His voice is a whisper as he looks down at your feet.

“You’re gonna regret not talking to her. Trust me, I know you like the back of my hand.” There’s a hint of a smile on Heeseung’s face when you say that and he nods his head, looking back at you before giving you a quick hug.

“I’m sorry to cut our dance short. I’ll make it up to you next time.”

You know there’s no next time after this.

You shake your head, saying it’s no problem as you push him in Yujin’s general direction. You flash him a smile, small and slightly heart-broken, and a thumbs-up to tell him he can do it.

Just like that, he goes.

The month ends like a dream you don’t want to wake up from. One moment you’re holding his hand, and the next, you’re watching him walk towards the girl he’s actually in love with. And you can still see flashes of the dream vaguely, unwilling to let go when you know you have to forget now. You know you have to wake up.

Just like it takes Lee Heeseung seven seconds to ask you to be his fake girlfriend, it takes him the same amount of time to walk away from it.

And while it was a dream, you don’t think you’d ever want to go back to the month of May if you knew he was just going to leave you again.

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tinycoded360 · 29 days

Text

Sterling Household-Sick Giant

"I'm going to help Sterling." Cassia declared at the table in their tiny kitchen, hidden within the walls of the human’s home.

Milton jerked back in surprise, choking on his tea. “Wh…what do you mean?”

“He’s been sick for the past day. Throwing up and bedridden. I think it would be good for us to help somehow.” Cassia explained. “He already knows about us and has saved Emma and our kids. I think this would be good for our relations.”

“Relations?! There are no relations with a human!” Milton looked shocked and confused.

“It can’t be helped. We have relations with him now. We either make them good, or we move. What if he gets annoyed with us? Hmmm?” Cassia challenged her husband.

Milton sighed. Cassia grinned, knowing she had won.

“See? Relations can’t be helped now. We might as well take advantage of a tame bean.”

“What do we suggest we do?” Milton asked.

***** “This is insane!” Emma grumbled as she helped Cassia gather supplies- a thimble for carrying water, thread for rope, an upturned metal cap for a pot, and other gear that would be useful for their task.

“Well, we don’t want to seem ungrateful; he did help you, after all.” Cassia pointed out.

“I know, I know. But I don’t have to like it.”

“Did you get what I asked for?” Cassia asked her friend.

“Of course! It was easy, I’m a pro at fishing, I know all the best spots.” Emma said with pride. She pulled off her backpack and opened it showing three big fish. Or big fish compared to the borrowers, to a human the fish would be more like small guppies.

“Perfect! Milton’s gonna use those to lure Whiskers out of the way!”

Cassia took a deep breath and stepped out from the walls, exposed on the giant's countertop.

Milton stood at the bottom with their children. He threw a grappling hook to the counter, which Cassia helped latch. Then, they worked together to get their children to climb up. Next, Cassia lowered the fish down.

“Why can’t I stay with Papa? I can help!” Agnes protested with a pout.

“You stay with your mother; I don’t want you near his cat! It’s better if I do this alone. Now you be good for her. She’ll need all the help she can get for this,” Milton shouted up to his family and disgruntled daughter.

Cassia shot her husband a grateful smile. "It'll be alright, dear. We'll look out for each other," she said gently. “Now, you be careful!”

Milton nodded. Leaving to find the giant feline.

"Here, kitty-kitty..." Milton called in a sing-song voice, watching Whiskers' ears perk up from her dozing spot by the hearth. With a flick of her tail, she rose, her movements graceful and silent—a stark contrast to the frantic beating of Milton's heart. Milton had tied the fish together to a string. He broke out in a run, pulling the treat with him.

Leading her through the open back door, Milton danced just beyond her reach, the string pulling a fat, yummy fish, enticing the cat. Whiskers pounced, playful yet deadly. He darted left, then right, his small size an advantage in the game of cat and mouse they played. He spun around as Whiskers took hold of the fish. Whiskers started purring up a storm as she ate the treat. Giving Milton time to move around her and push the door closed, using all his might.

On top of the counter, the borrowers paused to catch their breath, the vast kitchen spreading out before them. Cassia took charge, pointing out the locations of knives, cutting boards, and ingredients.

"We'll need to work together to manage these giant tools," she said. Emma and her children voiced their agreement.

They slowly dragged the knife across the counter to a potato, then worked in unison to slice off chunks of the hearty vegetable. Their tiny arms strained from the effort.

Emma and Cassia worked together to push one of the pots still on the stovetop onto the burner. They then turned on the stove and filled the pot with water, using their buckets. This took a long time, and they only managed to fill it about ¼ of the way.

Soon, aromatic steam rose from their pot as the broth simmered. Cassia gave an approving nod, heart swelling with pride for her family and friends. By working together, they could achieve the impossible.

Emma turned off the giant stove, the dial clicking loudly in the silence of the kitchen. The rich scent of herbs permeated the air as the borrowers peered into the steaming pot.

"It's ready," Emma declared. "Let's fill up our containers and get this to Sterling."

The group worked efficiently, ladling the fragrant broth into thimble-sized buckets. The tiny containers looked almost comical next to the giant pot, but the borrowers knew every drop could aid in Sterling's recovery. Or, at the very least, Sterling would be flattered they went to all this work for him.

The borrowers entered Sterling's room. The giant bed loomed before them, its great expanse of fabric forming rolling hills and valleys from their minuscule perspective.

Cassia secured her rope and began scaling the bedspread, gripping the fibers like climbing holds. Emma followed close behind until they reached the summit.

Carefully, Cassia slid the bucket off her back and gazed at Sterling. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, face flushed with fever. She felt a pang of sympathy for the ailing man.

Cassia looked over the edge of the bed; she sighed in relief to see that her husband Milton had returned. Cassia tugged on the rope, helping Milton haul up the soaked cloth they had prepared. Though thin as gauze to Sterling, it took all their strength to shift the giant fabric.

Soon, the other borrowers joined them on the bed. Together, they took up positions around the cloth and heaved, maneuvering it towards Sterling's head. Their tiny hands strained against the weight, muscles burning with effort.

Finally, they aligned the cloth over Sterling's forehead. The man sighed, his body relaxing subtly as the cool fabric soothed him. The borrowers released their grip, allowing themselves a moment of rest before moving to administer the broth.

Cassia took a deep breath to steady her nerves as she approached Sterling's head, a thimble of broth in hand. She was struck by how vulnerable the human looked in repose, his usually lively features now slackened by fever. Gingerly, she climbed onto his pillow, boots denting the fabric. At this proximity, she was dwarfed by his enormous size, barely the length of his ear. Still, she felt no malice from the gentle man.

Joining Cassia, the other borrowers followed suit, tiny feet padding over Sterling's blanketed form. Their movements were cautious but purposeful as they positioned themselves around the giant's head.

Lila bounced excitedly.

Pippin looked nervous but determined.

Finn was clinging onto his father’s back in a piggyback ride. He was too small to carry the thimbles by himself. But he was happy to watch from the safety of his papa’s back as they fed the giant.

Agnes stood by Emma with her own thimble. She shifted with nervousness. While Sterling had been gentle with her when he had caught her, she was still scared of his massive presence.

Emma nodded at Cassia, signaling they were ready. Cassia tipped the thimble to Sterling's parted lips with great care, letting the broth trickle in. His throat bobbed reflexively. They continued taking turns, administering the medicine thimble by tiny thimbleful.

Suddenly, Sterling stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. The borrowers froze as his gaze found them, crowded on his pillow. Confusion clouded his expression. Then, awareness lit his eyes.

Cassia met his look unflinchingly. To her surprise, his lips curved into a tired smile.

"Wha….What are you doing?" he rasped, voice hoarse and confused.

Sterling's deep voice rumbled around the tiny borrowers gathered on his pillow.

Cassia steadied herself, pushing down her instinctive fear. This was the first time she had revealed herself to a human, but her family owed him a debt for protecting her children.

"We made you broth with medicine and herbs, so you're welcome," she said, her voice clear and strong. "I'm Cassia. My family and I want to help you get well."

Sterling's gaze shifted to her. Though she barely reached the height of his chin, the look in his eyes was one of respect.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Cassia," he replied. "I wish I wasn’t sick to meet you. You didn’t have to do this; I don’t want you guys to get sick.”

"You've kept my children from harm. I wanted to say Thank you." She smiled up at him. "Now rest. You need your strength back."

Sterling's eyes crinkled happily. He struggled to keep his eyes open, wanting to drink in the tiny people gathered around him. He tried not to shift too much, noticing how his movements caused the little people to stumble on his pillow to catch their balance. His eyes were alight with awe and affection. He found it cute to see them with their tiny thimbles, trying to nurse him back to health. He ponders on how this must have taken so much of their time. Sterling’s heart fills with a warm feeling at the thought.

Sterling froze when a tiny hand patted him on his cheek. He shifted his gaze and landed on the tiny woman, Cassia. She smiled at him. He could only really see her from the corner of his eye. “You need to rest; we can talk more when you’re better.” Sterling was fixated on the feel of such a tiny, delicate hand resting on his cheekbone. Each finger was so tiny. He could hardly see them, and certainly not at this angle, but he could feel the tiny twitches of the tiny hand.

Sterling’s smile softened, his features relaxing into lines of gentle amusement. "I'm glad you feel safe enough to speak to me." With that, Sterling closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

Chapter 8

#giant/tiny #Sterling Household #Sterling #Sterling is sick right now #Cassia gonna take care of him #g/t writing #g/t #borrowers cooking in a giant kitchen #please think of ratatouille #The scene in ratatouille where all the rats cook in the kitchen #borrowers #gentle giant #original work #my writing #giant tiny #g/t writing community #g/t community

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webslingingslasher · 1 year

Note

Hi 💖, its my first time writing here, english is not my first language but reading you has help me a lot to improve my english. I love the way you right Peter, and I wanted to ask for a request, I had an eye surgery like 2 weeks ago and my friends been teasing me about it saying that now I watch in 1080 HD (I mean I do now), so maybe you could do something with this and Peter please.

I LOVE YOUR WRITING 🥰🥰

this means the absolute world to me, i am so glad to have you here. congrats on your eye surgery, i looked up videos for this and i died inside, so you're a badass for sure! (in sake of the fic let's pretend reader got some laughing gas and is a little loopy.)

------

“I can’t see. I think they cut my corneas.”

Your boyfriend winces as he guides you out of your optometrist’s office, “technically they did.”

“They did?!” Peter’s hand cups over your eyes when he gets you outside blocking you from the sunlight. You whimper and he nudges you along with a hand on your lower back. “The sun’s gonna hurt your eyes, let me get you some sunglasses.”

Peter opens the passenger door at his aunt's car, before gently guiding you in the seat and immediately putting sunglasses over your eyes. His body leans across yours as he buckles you in, your bottom lip digs into your teeth when you try to place a kiss to his cheek, you moved awkwardly and nearly threw your face into his and hit his jawbone.

“Oh shit, you alright, baby?”

You feel warmth spread to your cheeks, you remember Peter but the details of your relationship were as fuzzy as your vision. Your best friend-slash-crush just called you baby, even after you crushed his face. The excuse of drugs would make this easier.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. You’re cute, but I don’t think I should tell you that.”

Peter gives you a chaste kiss, “‘course you can call me cute.”

Your jaw dropped but your crush didn’t notice, you start to think you’re a lot higher than you thought. The keys jingle in his hand as he pushes your knee further in the car before shutting the door and crossing around to the driver’s side.

While your mind raced about what just happened you jumped when the engine roared to life, Peter clicked in his own belt. “Ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

Your neck swivels, “we’re at a popsicle stand?”

Peter awed at you, “I meant are you ready to go home?”

You nod then hold out your hand as he reaches for the gear shift, “wait, did you kiss me?”

He hummed, “I did, are you asking for another?”

You stutter, “I mean, if you’re offering, but like, you don’t have to if you don’t want.”

“Stop being silly,” his hand cups your cheek and pulls you in for another kiss, when he pulls away you follow and kiss him this time, he holds it for a few seconds before breaking it.

“We do that a lot?” He’s your boyfriend, you’re sure of it.

“According to you, not enough.”

You scoff, “well, duh. Have you seen yourself? If I could like, sew myself to you, I would.”

Peter makes a motion of looking around, “I’m sure May’s got a needle and thread around here.” You followed his movements with a smile, when you peered into the backseat a vivid flashback of hooking up with Peter hit you.

“Oh god! Oh god, you’ve seen me naked!”

You look at your boyfriend and gasp, you point at him in shock, “and I’ve seen you naked!”

A cocky grin slid across his face, “oh, are we connecting the pieces now?”

“You’ve done things to me, Peter.

“Alright, Nancy Drew. Let me take you home.”

Confusion covered your face when he pulled up to your house, he seemed to have driven there on purpose. It’s proven when he puts the car in park and undoes his seatbelt, when he reaches for yours you stop him.

“Why are we here?”

“I told you I was taking you home.”

You pout, you didn’t want to be here.

“But that’s your house.”

Peter’s heart swells in his chest, you viewed him as home.

“I’m sorry, baby. Your parents wanted you home, but I’ll stay over tonight and I’ll come see you until you can get around on your own.”

You smile wide, “really?”

Your boyfriend gives you three quick kisses, “really, really.”

—------------------------

“How’s that 1080 HD vision treating you?”

Three days have passed and you can see cleaner and crisper than ever before, you turn and shake with excitement when your boyfriend appears at your door.

“You know, I didn’t know how you could get even hotter until they sliced my coneras.”

“Is that so?” His hands rest on your hips.

“They gave me 1080 HD Peter vision.”

“Gross. Gimme a kiss.”

He really is so much more beautiful up close.

#peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker fluff #my writing

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ddejavvu · 2 years

Note

Could you plz write abt Eddie x gf reader? The gist is Jason constantly picking on him + being cruel, but Ed never pays any mind + just responds in his Eddie fashion. But as soon as Jason says something about the reader, he defends her and goes ape shit on him. Sadly Ed loses the fight and comes home w/ a black eye and reader tries to figure out how he got it, but he doesnt have the heart to tell her what Jason said + tries to lie. Reader comforting Eddie would be nice to see for a change :'))

You don't bother turning when you hear the door to Eddie's trailer open, knowing you'll be jammed against the counter in a hug faster than you can. But when you don't feel Eddie's face smashed into your own you frown, spinning on your heel to see what the hold up is.

It's a black eye. And a split lip. And a mysterious trickle of blood down his cheek. There's a smattering of scrapes and rouge at his knuckles, too, and he's standing off-kilter. Your boy is beaten.

"Eddie!" You shriek loudly in alarm. You realize too late that he's got a headache, only realizing when he winces and a battered hand shoots up to cover his left ear.

"I- I'm sorry," You hastily babble, rushing to his side, "What happened? Who- who did this, are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," He assures you, though the nod of his head is wobbly, "I'm just gonna clean up in the bathroom, alright sweets?"

"No- no! Eddie," You rush to stop him, only slightly guilty to hinder progress in the name of information, "Please, just tell me what happened. I'll help you clean up, I- I just need to know!"

"It was Jason," Though he answers your question, he evades the underlying question after it with a sad smile, "'Should'a known one of these days he was gonna swing."

"I don't get it," You sniffle, moved to tears by Eddie's black-and-blue eye. You lead him into the trailer's bathroom, fumbling with disinfectant and a cotton ball, "He bothers you every day. He's never punched you before. What- what did he do? What was different?"

"Just felt like starting shit, I guess." Eddie shrugs, but his eyes are deep with concern. You bite the inside of your cheek, hating how defeated he looks as his eyelashes flutter shut for you to dab at the injury.

"I won't be mad at you, you know. If you were the first to swing. I- I'm not calling you a liar," You assure him when he goes stiff, "This just seems.. off."

"Yeah." He nods solemnly, eyes firmly shut even after you're done cleaning his cuts, "It- it was off. He just.. fuck, I know he was just saying it to get a rise out of me, I know he'd never say it to you or anything but I just couldn't let it slide. I didn't know his friends were gonna see us, I- I wouldn't have started anything if I knew I couldn't have finished it."

He rambles with the vigor of an excited child, all slurred words and hand gestures, though he's more like an accused in court. Your brain catches on one sentence and pulls the thread from the scene he'd woven you, and you fray it while you bandage his cut.

"To me? He'd never say it to me?"

His eyes scrunch even tighter shut, and you know he's realized his mistake.

"I didn't mean to say that," He grits his teeth, "Just- Just please pretend I didn't say that? I feel like I got threaded through a meat grinder," He huffs, rubbing at his good eye with a bloodied hand, "Do I get a deathbed wish for that?"

"You always say your deathbed wish is gonna be to buzz Steve's hair," You murmur, cupping his bandaged cheek as light as a feather, "Please tell me the truth, Eddie."

He sighs; you've got him.

"He said shit about you. He said- said you'd regret dating me. 'Said I'd drag you down until you were 'trailer trash' just like me and Wayne. I- God, I'm so scared of that, Y/N, I just.. I freaked out."

"I like your trailer," You hum after a tense moment of silence, prolonged eye contact between your sympathetic ones and his glossy ones.

He cracks a smile, but it doesn't reach his good eye.

"You're not dragging me down," You promise him, "You make me happy. I don't need to live in a penthouse to be successful, that comes from emotional fulfillment."

"Yeah? And you, uh, you think I fill you up?"

It's a joke; you're back in his comfort zone. He shoots you as much of a smirk as he can with one bad eye, and you bite your lip to stop from grinning too hard.

"You stuff me full," You gush, "I'm all filled up with ooey gooey, mushy gushy, sappy sweet love, Eddie, and every time you hug me it oozes out of me like slime."

"My slimy girl," He croons, laughter bubbling up in his chest even though you suspect it aches, "So sticky."

He yanks you in by your waist from where he's sitting on the toilet lid. He buries his face in your stomach and you're worried he'll aggravate his black eye, but he sighs in content.

"I know it was stupid," He sighs, nose prodding at your skin, "I just.. I don't like it when he sees through me like that. I always thought I kept everything pretty hidden, but I guess I'm afraid of what everyone else is. Ruining you."

You think he says it into your stomach so he doesn't have to look you in the eyes. You sigh, running a hand through his curls and cringing when one is caked in blood. His arms tighten around your waist at the contact, and you speak without planning ahead, a heartfelt ramble.

"You couldn't ruin me, Eddie. You make me happy, even if no one else wants to admit it. I don't care that you're still in senior year. I don't care that your uncle is your dad. I don't care that you live in a trailer. I don't care that you play dungeons and dragons. If I disliked any of those things I wouldn't be with you. You- you have to know how much I love you," You breathe shakily, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, "Eddie, I have dreams about you. Just- mundane stuff, like vacuuming. Last night I had one where you were organizing your socks. And I woke up smiling. Our lives aren't boiled down to anything besides us, Eddie. I love you, and you love me, and that's why I'm happy."

Once you stop talking, shut your brain down from where it had been tipped on its side and gushing love, you realize your shirt is wet. He's shaking, shoulders trembling as he sobs into your stomach. When he looks up at you it's with a pathetic puppy-eyed pout, split lip wobbling.

"You dream about me," He wails, "I dream about you too! I dream about- about marrying you, about living together, trailer or no trailer. And- and I dream about falling asleep with you every night for the rest of my life," He chokes on his emotions, "I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too, Eddie." You smile, watery as it curls over your face. He rushes to stand, nose bumping your own as he nuzzles his face against your skin. His shaky exhale washes over your face and smells like the blood caking his lips, but you let him press them to your cupid's bow without protest.

"I want to rearrange my socks now," He admits, a teary chuckle in his throat, "You can sit on the bed and watch. Be pretty, n'all that."

"I think you should rest," Your eyes are smiling just as much as your mouth is, sparkling with adoration, "But tomorrow can be sock day."

"Deal," He nods, one of his tears pressing into your own cheek and wetting your skin, "Tomorrow, and every day for the rest of our lives."

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reneeluv154 · 4 months

Text

Doctor Dawkins

Hi! I really hope you enjoy.

I will be making a part two to this Jack Dawkins imagine!

⚠️Tw: mentions of self harm and sharp objects. ⚠️

My mother, in a panicked state, rushed to the door as she heard three firm knocks. “Oh my, I am so glad to see you here so soon. Please come.” Her footsteps now accompanied by another came down the hall towards my room. In my room was where I sat, on my bed. I was scared, scared he was going to hurt me or take me somewhere where he would perform outrageous surgeries and tests.

The door swung open and my mom marched towards me, snatching my arms and lifting my sleeves to reveal the fairly fresh cuts, next she threw the blanket which covered my legs, revealing the bruises. I kept my head down, not wanting to see the look of disgust on their faces. This made me weak and off-putting, ugly and unladylike. The doctor set down a brown leather bag and gently sat next to me.

“May I take a look? I promise I’ll be gentle.” His tone was just as calm as his mannerisms. I held out my arms letting him examine both.

“A few of these cuts need some stitches.”

My heart sank as he dug through the small leather bag, bringing out a needle and some cotton string. “Will it hurt?” I choked.

“Please.” My mother scoffed. “You’ve done such horrid things and you're worried about a needle and some string? Pathetic.” she hurried off to what I assumed was the kitchen to make some tea. Leaving both me and the doctor alone.

“It will hurt but luckily for you these cuts are small, you'll only need 4 or 5 stitches for each” I nodded watching him thread the string through the needle.

How does it work? I wondered in my head before saying it aloud.

“How does it work?” I looked at him.

This was the first time I looked at him, his blonde fluff of hair fell over his dark brown eyes. What caught my attention the most was he had no trace of disgust or malice in his eyes, but rather sympathy and… what I believed was kindness.

‘Well, I’ll show ya, if ya think you're tough enough?” He cocked an eyebrow, making me smile.

“You have a pretty smile.” He softly mentioned while positioning his needle right where it needed to be.

“Thank you”

“Alright, first I’m gonna very gently take the needle from one side to the other, like so.” my whole body tensed as I felt the sharp needle glide through the thick layer of skin.

“Shhh, it’s okay, try to relax your arm. After I get the needle through both sides I’m gonna take the string and tie a surgeon's knot, just like this.” I watched as he wrapped the string twice around what looked like pliers but for surgeons rather than builders or mechanics.

“Now I’m gonna make two more simple knots and cut the string.” He gave me a small smile once finished with the first stitch. I had more of a defeated look than he did.

“This is gonna take forever.”

He chuckled, “Well, why don’t we get to know each other, I’m Doctor Jack Dawkins.”

“Y/n Y/l/n.” I decided not to watch this time, letting my eyes wander around my room.

“Beautiful name.”

“Thank you.” I blushed.

His concentration during our conversation was for some reason alluring, He gave off a sense of comfort no man ever had.

“All done, may I take a look at your bruises?”

I hesitated.

“I could take you down to the hospital if you would prefer a nurse, I or the nurse will have to do a full body examination.”

My eyes widened. “I would like to see a nurse.”

He nodded, packing up his tools. “You can get changed while I talk to your mother.”

Part two is out now!🤍🤍

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late-to-the-party-81 · 2 years

Text

Need you now

AN: Apologies again for the late posting today- computer wasn't playing ball. But I'm making up for it with some Alpha! Nomad Steve. I hope you enjoy.

I’m using dialogue prompts from this post by @nightprompts and they can be found emboldened in the text.

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Beta’d by @maladaptivexxdaydreaming

Dividers by @firefly-graphics, banners and covers by me.

Pairing: Alpha! Nomad Steve x Omega! Reader

CW: A/B/O, Biting, Knotting, Breeding Kink, Heats, Scenting, Smidge angst, Explicit Sexual Content

Word Count: 1.9k

You were warm. And the discomfort in your abdomen was growing.

You whimpered as you rifled through your bedside drawer for the phone you’d been given, only for use in emergencies. Turning it on and opening up the message app you typed in the number you knew by heart and sent off your one-word missive.

Now.

Shutting it down again, you tossed it back in its place. Then, grabbing hold of the too large, white tee out of your other drawer, you pulled it over your head, inhaling the scent that clung to it. You whimpered again and rubbed your thighs together, before settling back into your nest, drawing your blankets close and trying to get any sort of rest you could. Whatever the response to your text, the next few days were going to be hard on your body.

It was the suffocating, body suffusing heat that woke you. Your eyes shot open, but it only took a moment to realise that you weren’t feeling any of the lancing pain you expected. Discomfort still, yes, but no needle like darts, which meant…

You didn’t even need to inhale to know. He was here. You flipped over to your other side and buried your head in his chest, a reedy noise of primal need making its way out of your throat as you scented him.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, baby. I’m here, I’m here. Gonna take care of you, real good, okay?”

His voice rumbled through his chest, deep and calming and you could feel the slick leaking out between your legs. You tilted your head back, eyes wide, to see his ocean blue ones staring back. His mouth was turned up into a soft smile under his beard, and you drew in a shuddering breath, only really realising in that moment how much you’d missed him.

“St-steve…” It was the only word your fuzzy brain was able to form before you were shifting up his body, climbing him like a tree, so you could press your lips to his, press your bodies together. You whined as you tasted him, rolling your hips and your sodden panties against his stomach. You were glad he’d discarded his tac suit before climbing into your nest, and even more happy that he hadn’t showered.

You needed his scent. His sweat. His very essence.

You nipped and kissed and mewled at him, completely taken over by your base needs and desires. You were impatient too. Why wasn’t he in you already?

“Slow it down, baby. We got time. And I know it aches. I’ll soothe it soon, yeah. Just gotta get you ready for my knot. It’s big, remember? You’re heat makes you a little dumb, doesn’t it?”

You nodded into his neck, not really sure what you were agreeing too, just knowing that you wanted to please your alpha, agree with everything he said, so he would fuck you sooner. His large hands spanned your waist, pushing the fabric of the t-shirt up your body. His fingertips branded your skin, his touch making you feel even dizzier.

“Is that my shirt, Omega?” You nodded again. “You needed Alpha’s smell all over you, didn’t you? But I’m here now – let’s get that off you, huh?”

He eased the soft fabric over your head, and you let go of him to snatch it into your arms, twisting in his embrace to thread it into the wall of your nest, near your pillow, near where your head would be later when he…

You let out a pained cry as your arousal grew.

“Alpha, please!”

He eased you down to lie flat, a comforting smile still on his face.

“Alright, here we go, baby. Here we go.”

He pressed his mouth to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, where the small scar that proclaimed your bond lay. His hands swept up your waist to cup your breasts, and he massaged the flesh, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. You squirmed as the pleasure flowed through you, and you tried to rid yourself of your panties, him of his briefs. His beard tickled your neck as he halted your desperate actions by moving down your body. His lips replaced his thumbs in turn, and you keened. If they were this sensitive already, what would they be like when you were swollen with his pups? The thought caused a fresh gush of slick to leave you, the sweet scent now taking over your room. Steve chuckled against you.

“Aww, poor, needy Omega.”

His rough fingers ripped your ruined panties from you, and you cried out in pleasure as he pushed two into your sodden core.

“Fuck, ‘mega. Sucking me in. Such a good girl for your Alpha.”

He pumped his fingers slowly. Too slowly for your liking, and you reached down to grab his wrist and roll your hips against his hand, but he batted them away.

“Let me do this, baby. I don’t want to hurt you. Remember what happened the first time?”

You didn’t really. All you did remember was the feeling of absolute fullness, of being stretched to your limit. There was a hazy recollection of not being able to walk properly the next day, but in your heat-addled state you didn’t care. If that were to happen again, it would be a problem for ‘future you’.

There was a tightness in your belly, and you felt Steve crook his fingers and stroke your insides, finding that special spot and…

Your orgasm ripped through you, and you clung to Steve’s bicep as he continued to fingerfuck you through it, sneakily adding in a third digit while you were in the throes of pleasure. You recovered your breath, but your ache was still there, unassuaged by the ecstasy Steve had brought you to with his fingers.

“Please…” Your plea was whispered. Pathetic. A request for clemency.

“Just give me another, Omega. One more for your Alpha, and then I’ll give you what you need.”

Steve dipped his head, suckling on your clit as his fingers continued their mission to stretch you out. Still reeling from your first orgasm, and with your heat raging through you, you felt the build up to your next one come quickly. His facial hair rubbed over your sensitive flesh, stinging you just right and your hands fisted in the sheets as you felt yourself ready to explode. Your legs trembled and your mate growled against your pussy.

“Cum, Omega. Cum for your Alpha. Now!”

Like a switch that had been flipped, you were unable to control yourself at his command. You came. Hard. Gushing over his hand and face. Soaking his beard with your sweet slick.

Your legs were like jelly, your whole body boneless, but you still mewled needily at him. He rose up from between your legs, wiping his hand over his beard and marvelling at the amount of wetness, before grinning as he moved over you.

“There you go.” With a shimmy he discarded his briefs and his erection sprang free, slapping against your stomach with its weight. “So perfect for me, baby. Even if you are all heat drunk and stupid. Let’s get you properly ready, huh?”

Steve flipped you over on your stomach easily, pulling your hips into the air so you could present for him properly. Your hips swayed, as though you were trying to fuck the air, and your Alpha chuckled and swatted your backside.

“You wanna be bred, baby? Want me to fill you with pups and make you all round and beautiful?”

It was a pitiful sound that left your mouth as you nodded into your blankets, your face pressed up against the t-shirt that Steve had taken off you earlier. His warm body curled over your back and his scent surrounded you, soothing you slightly, but his cock nudged between your legs, making you wiggle again.

“Okay, okay. I know, enough teasing. You ready, Omega?”

He didn’t wait for you to answer, he knew what your reply would be if you’d even been capable of speech.

You wailed as he breached you, his thick cock carving a space for itself inside your pussy and your hands clawed at the sheets, the sensations almost overwhelming you. Steve groaned when he bottomed out, taking a moment just to enjoy the feel of your wet heat surrounding him. But he didn’t leave you unsatisfied for long, knowing that you needed something that only he, as your Alpha, could provide. With one hand on your hip and another on your shoulder he started to fuck into you, hard. Each punishing thrust was just what you needed, scratching the itch inside you and making you cry out in joy.

It didn’t take long for you to cum again, Steve’s cock stroking you even better than his fingers had. You were barely coherent when you shouted out to him, through the ripples of your orgasm.

“Alpha! Knot! Bite! Please!”

The hand on your shoulder moved to your other hip and Steve lowered to lie fully flat on the mattress, still fucking into you. His body pressed you down, pushing you deep into your nest, his mouth moving over your mating scar again.

“You’re going to cum with me, aren’t you Omega? I need your orgasm, so I can give you all my cum.”

All you could manage was a series of punched out moans as you felt his knot start to swell, stretching the entrance of your pussy as his cock pistoned in and out of you. Your body was one raw nerve ending, it’s only purpose to feel pleasure. But you needed a little extra to cum again.

“Bite! Bite!” Your voice was muffled by the sheets, but Steve knew what you needed. You felt his teeth scrape over your scarred flesh, finding the right spot, and then he bit down.

Stars exploded behind your eyes and you screamed, your whole body spasming at the force of your orgasm. You felt Steve’s knot pop, locking the pair of you together, and then the warmth of his cum flooded you. You floated off into bliss.

You awoke. It had been four days since Steve had appeared. Four days in which he’d fucked you beyond reason, working your through your heat with orgasm after mind-blowing orgasm. But it had passed. You’d both known it last night, although neither of you had said anything. The sex had turned less frenetic; less fucking and more love-making.

You didn’t want to open your eyes, because you knew what you would find when you did. He was a criminal on the run, hiding from multiple governments and international agencies, so as much as it pained the pair of you, you couldn’t be together, properly.

Not yet.

You rolled over in your nest, the small space now feeling too big without Steve in it. Your hand reached out to brush over the space where he had lain and you bowed to the inevitable. You opened your eyes and lying there on the mattress was a black t-shirt. Steve’s t-shirt. He’d left you a fresh one, still imbued with his scent. You gathered it to you and breathed it in. It would have to sustain you until you could see him again.

Tag list: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @ohsymphony @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @marvelstarker-mha98 @sheismarvelousworld

#kinktober22 #kinktober 2022 #late writes #nomad steve x reader #nomad steve x you #nomad!steve #alpha steve rogers #omega reader #a/b/o verse #omegaverse

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 2 years

Text

Never Stop Searching | Bucky Barnes x Reader

I’ll be honest, this kinda got away from me 😅 But we all know I love hurt / comfort

Warnings: Reader injury, blood, torture, sad Bucky

—————————

Upsetting the natural order of things wasn’t a foreign concept to Bucky. He was far past his intended expiration date. People younger than him died every day. And it was wrong. He was never supposed to see this many years. But his heart beat on- and he never knew why. He couldn’t understand why someone like him deserved to live. But after meeting you, he didn’t care anymore. He lived for you- only you.

Not that he’d ever tell you.

You were supposed to outlive him- end of story. You were strong, vibrant, full of life. The world needed you. And Bucky needed you to exist for as long as possible- especially after his heart stopped.

But the job was dangerous. Missions put you at risk. And Bucky hadn’t seen you in weeks. The jet came home minus one member of the team, and it tore Bucky to shreds. People told him to give up. They said Hydra wouldn’t let you live. They begged him to let himself mourn. Everyone thought he was going to drown in his denial, in his blind hope that he’d see you again.

But he knew you were still alive, still with him. And he’d find you if it was the last thing he did.

Clint knew this wasn’t a rescue. It was a recovery. Searching Hydra base after Hydra base, Bucky looked for you while Clint looked for your body. Part of him resented the search for you. Maybe it was because he knew you were already dead, maybe it was the guilt that he never brought Natasha’s body home.

Clint muttered something under his breath as he lazily searched a dark corridor. The building was empty, silent as the grave. No signs of life. Scouring every square foot of the space felt pointless to him. “I don’t think she’s here...”

Bucky cleared room after room, hoping to find you in each one. “But there’s a chance she is-”

Clint didn’t know what kept Bucky so adamant: denial or love. “You’ve said that about every base we’ve been to.”

“Because it’s true,” Bucky wanted to bloody Clint’s nose. Maybe break his jaw. “I don’t know where, but Hydra’s keeping her alive. We just gotta keep looking.”

Clint sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Just go search the north end, alright?” Bucky gestured down a long hall. “I’m gonna go this way. I’ll cover the south and then we’ll reconvene.” Clint wandered off without a word.

Bucky was tired of working with him, tired of his pessimism. You were still alive- somewhere. Bucky could feel it. His soul and yours were stitched together by an unbreakable thread. Something inside him said your heart continued to beat, however weak.

And he’d find you even if it killed him.

The south wing of the building was dark. Grimy. Cold. Rusted doors lined the hall. But Bucky didn’t find you behind any of them. His hopes rose and fell with each opening and subsequent closing of rust-eaten doors. A decrepit staircase, however, presented itself as Bucky opened the last door. It spiraled down into a dark, damp chamber, disappearing into an eerie bunker.

Cold, humid air moved across Bucky’s skin. The farther he explored into this seemingly forgotten portion of the base, the more he wanted to turn back. It was all too similar to his own experiences at Hydra- his captivity, his abuse. But he pressed on. If you were down here, Bucky was going to find you.

Maria checked in with him through his earpiece, “Update?”

“Nothing…” Bucky sighed. “I’m downstairs. Give me a few minutes and then I’ll-”

A small sound stopped him in his tracks. He could’ve sworn it was… a voice? He listened again, straining for another sample of the sound.

“Um… hello?” he called into the chamber. His voice echoed against the walls and bounced back at him.

Another sound pulled him deeper into the dark.

But he’d already searched every corner, checked every possible nook and cranny; there was no one else down here. Just a disappointed Bucky. Part of him thought he might’ve finally lost his mind, that he was imagining things- until the sound piped up again. He could’ve sworn it came from behind the large, steel wall at the end of the room.

“Hello?” he knocked against the wall and found an echo. Of course, it was a false wall. Of course, Hydra would conceal their secrets. He just needed to find the opening. His hands searched every bolt and seam of the metal. He pulled and prodded at anything he could find, desperately hoping for a clue.

He thought about the time you took him to an escape room. About your uproarious laughter. The two of you goofed around and hunted for keys. But Bucky couldn’t focus on the silly clues or riddles. He watched you, instead. He adored you smile. The way your eyes lit up when you laughed. It was one of his favorite days with you. The two of you failed to escape, but Bucky didn’t care. He got spend uninterrupted time with you, and that was prize enough.

Bucky took a deep breath. Maybe you weren’t behind a false wall. Maybe you weren’t even in the building. But he had to check. This wasn’t a silly little puzzle lacking consequences or stakes. Your life depended on Bucky’s efforts. And he wasn’t going to let you down.

“Barnes, where are you?” Clint said over comms, “hurry it up.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He turned the room upside down, desperately searching for a way behind the wall. And just as hopelessness set it, he heard a click. His foot rested against a drain in the concrete floor- and as he stepped on it fully, it depressed into the ground. A panel in the faux wall slid open, granting Bucky access.

The sickly blue color of harsh fluorescent lights bathed the room in an uncomfortable glow. They flickered and buzzed every now and then; the sound put Bucky on edge. Chains hung from the ceiling, their links clinking together with the influx of airflow. Something stained the concrete floor a nauseating reddish-brown. The smell of death assaulted Bucky’s nostrils, nearly making him wretch. This place looked like a slaughterhouse.

Bucky wanted desperately to see you again- but hoped he wouldn’t find you somewhere so horrifying.

“Hello?” he called into the dead air. Nothing. “Hello?”

A strained sound echoed from the other end of the room. Bucky followed.

He ran, pushing past dirty translucent plastic sheeting hanging from the ceiling. Layers upon layers of the thick rubbery material, splattered with blood and grime, concealed the source of the sound. A familiar shadow began taking shape as he threw each panel of stained plastic out of his way- Bucky’s heart sank.

And as he pushed past the last panel, there you were. Gagged, eyes wide. Your body suspended from the ceiling via a chain suffocating your wrists. A sheen of sweat dampened your skin. Your tattered clothing hung loose from your body, the fabric soaked with blood. Bruises bloomed under the skin of your cheek and neck. Dried blood crusted along your leg. Each breath leaving your chest came out more labored than the last.

A shudder rippled up Bucky’s spine. He froze. This couldn’t be real- it had to be a nightmare. Another strained sound broke free from your throat, pulling him from his trance.

“Oh, god- okay, hey. Hi,” he gently pulled the gag from your mouth, “hey, I’m here. You’re okay. I got you.”

He thought he might stop breathing. He knew just what Hydra did to their captives, knew the walls contained your screams.

He quickly tapped at his comm with a shaky hand, “I f-found her, she’s here. I need-” He appraised your condition once more, fighting back a breakdown. “I need the med team ready. I’ll have her out in ninety seconds.”

A raspy sound clawed out of your throat, but Bucky didn’t catch your weak words.

“Shhhh, hey. It’s okay. I’m gonna get you down, doll. I’m gonna get you down and take you home.” He reached for the chains secured around your wrists- but stopped at the sound of your voice.

“N-No, no-” You took a labored inhale. Speaking robbed you of all energy, all oxygen. “My… back…” Your raw throat burned at the utterance.

Bucky curved a hand around your back and ran his palm down your spine, only to force an agonized groan from your chest. The sound tightened his lungs; he instantly recoiled. Making his way around your dangling body, he found two pieces of equipment digging into the flesh of your back. Tracks of blood trickled from the entrance wounds. The skin burned red with irritation and abuse.

“Oh, doll…” Bucky wanted to vomit. They’d hooked your spinal nerves to one of their devices and used it to deliver the most intense, pinpointed pain possible. They set you alight from the inside out, overloading each individual nerve until you blacked out. They fried your system. Bucky had firsthand experience.

“Okay, I’m gonna- I’m gonna get these out…” he breathed. A panic attack loomed on the horizon. It cast a dark shadow over his vision- but he couldn’t submit. Getting you home was all that mattered.

“It- it’s gonna hurt. I’m so, so sorry. We’ll do one at a time, okay? Are you ready?”

Your weak attempt at a nod gutted him.

“Okay, breathe in for me.” He secured a hand around the first probe, dreading its removal. He didn’t remember much from his time at Hydra, but he remembered the pain. “Ready? Three, two, one…” He pulled the piece of equipment from your body, sending a rush of blood to the floor. Your sharp scream echoed through the room. Bucky wanted to die.

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry. One more, okay? And then you’re done. Breathe for me. You let me know when you’re ready.”

He waited for you to catch what little breath you could muster. Recouping your strength took a long time- too long. And your second nod looked more like a twitch.

“Alright. Here we go. Three, two, one…” Another flood of red. Another piercing scream.

Your head lolled forward as a sob ripped through your chest. The pain was too much. You’d been suffering down here for weeks, enduring every twisted, evil form of torture Hydra could think of. They filled every second of every day with agony. Bloodshed. Carnage.

But the actual process of freeing your abused body hurt more than you anticipated. Part of you almost wished to stay- the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t. And the familiar suffering was almost normal. A new, different kind of pain- the pain of recovery- waited for you outside the base. And you weren’t sure you had the strength.

The entire time you’d been in captivity, you kept yourself together. You dreamed of your escape, your rescue. It was the only thing getting you through- the prospect of Bucky freeing you from your personal hell. You thought about it often. About Bucky, mostly. And you never let a tear free. Sure, you’d screamed yourself hoarse more times than you could count. Your throat even bled on a few occasions. But you never let them see you cry.

Now that Bucky had you, however, the dam broke. Tears flooded your cheeks. For the first time since your capture, you allowed the emotion out.

The wounds in your back throbbed. Blood poured down your legs. And sharp sobs punched against your broken ribs. The sounds of your agony bounced against the walls. They grew distorted and unfamiliar, almost scary. Like monsters tearing themselves free from a cage.

Bucky made his way around you and took your face in his hands. His system instantly filled with dread at the sight of your fluttering eyelids and the thick stream of blood dripping from your mouth. He feared he’d done you in.

“Hey, can you look at me?”

A black cloud formed around the edges of your vision. Whether from blood loss or pain- or a wicked combination- the vignette suffocated you. Bucky watched your bloodshot eyes roll into the back of your head.

“I need you to stay awake, okay? Can you do that for me?” Bucky reached upward to free your hands, “I’m getting you down and then we’re outta here. We’re gonna get you home.” He wound your legs around his hips and supported your body with his left arm while his other hand worked to undo your restraints. And when your hands were finally freed, your arms collapsed around his neck.

“Okay, there we go. You’re okay- you’re gonna be fine.”

He wasn’t sure if he was comforting you or reassuring himself- but he couldn’t stop. His right hand lay gently against your back, carefully avoiding your bleeding wounds. Holding you never felt so good. He cradled you close and shielded your body with his as he exited the chamber.

“I got you, baby.”

Maybe he shouldn’t’ve called you baby. He called you doll often, but that was the extent of his affectionate nicknames. To him, “baby” was too much. It was a dead giveaway of his feelings for you. And he wasn’t sure he was ready to put them on full display. But your dead weight rested in his arms as he carried your bloodied body out of the building. You were limp, almost lifeless. He didn’t care about pet names or their implications.

He whispered assurances to you with every step. He promised that you were okay, that he’d get you home, that you didn’t have to be afraid. But he knew that those promises could never undo the damage Hydra saddled you with. They fell from his lips anyway, his need to comfort you outweighing his logic.

Broken, hollow sobs still rattled their way out of your chest. With what little strength you had, you clung to Bucky’s body. The effort was pathetic- laughable, even. You didn’t have the energy to hold on tight. But you couldn’t find it in you to let go.

“Alright, hey- we’re gonna get you some help, okay? You’re safe.”

Bucky carried you up the stairs of the jet and found the med team waiting. His voice transitioned from a soft, comforting tone to commanding. Authoritative. “She’s got two wounds on her back- bad ones. Her wrists are bad, too. I don’t know how much blood she’s lost- it’s a lot. She needs fluids and-”

A doctor stopped him, “We’ve got this under control”.

Anxiety throttled Bucky’s voice, “I know, but she’s hurt- bad. And she needs-”

“We’ll take care of her.”

Your time on the jet was a hazy blur. Voices, lights, hands. Bucky set you on the cold treatment table; you instantly gasped at the sensation. But you didn’t have time to adjust. The med team got to work, taking your vitals and setting up a heart monitor. Taking your blood pressure. Pricking your finger. Wrapping a nasal cannula around your face.

They shooed Bucky away. He refused. He told them you needed him, that he couldn’t leave you. They had to pull him from your side, almost dragging him away. He was banished to the sidelines- helpless, his heart in his throat. All he wanted was to hold your hand.

As carefully as they could, the team appraised the wounds on either side of your spine. Pain rocketed through you as they poked and prodded at the swollen tissue. Blood pooled on the table.

But a different agony distracted you as a nurse worked diligently to clean the deep, ugly cuts around your wrists. She could still see the outline of the chains, surrounded by blues and purples and reds. Blood trickled from the gnarly gashes as she did her best to sanitize them.

Bucky watched you twitch and wince as they did their best to help you. You tried to fight, to yank yourself away from the treatment team. You weren’t sure what was real- you’d had this dream before.

But they persisted. And you were too weak to fend them off.

A sharp sting pierced your inner forearm as a nurse gave you an IV. It was nothing compared to what you’d endured at the hands of Hydra, but it sent you over the edge. Shallow, labored breaths entered your lungs and set your chest aflame. Tears ran down your cheeks. Bucky couldn’t stay away any longer.

He made his way through the sea of doctors and nurses, resting a hand against your hip. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe. Focus on me, doll. Just on me.” He watched your bloodshot eyes flick in his direction. “They’re just here to help, okay? They’re taking care of you, I promise.”

A doctor said something about pain medication, and moments later, a fuzzy outline began growing on the edges of your vision.

Your raspy, weak voice mumbled a protest. You didn’t want any type of medication, anything that would put you to sleep. You needed to stay alert, aware of your surroundings- Bucky knew the feeling. The last time someone knocked you unconscious, you ended up in a Hydra Bunker. But you were suffering. And you deserved relief.

“B… Buck-”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to worry. It’s all gonna be okay…” Bucky’s voice sounded far away. It echoed inside your head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

-----

An apocalyptic pain pounded inside your skull. A strange cacophony of beeping sounds filled your consciousness. Still half asleep, you struggled for something to ground you. Everything was nebulous, shapeless. You were lost. And then- a voice. The softest, warmest voice you’d ever heard. The sound sent goosebumps over your skin as dopamine flooded your system.

“Hey, doll…” A soft touch accompanied the sound. It ghosted over your forearm, barely perceptible. Just enough to let you know he was there. “Welcome back.”

A mumbled, rough sound fell from your mouth. It was clumsy, disjointed. But Bucky knew his name when he heard it. Especially when it came from your lips.

“Yeah, I’m here”, you sensed a smile in his voice. “Don’t worry. You’re home.”

Lifting your eyelids sounded like an impossible feat. But Bucky didn’t want you to rush. He told you to take your time, to breathe. “Hey, if you wanna go back to sleep, it’s okay. You need the rest. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

You tried to resist the pull of slumber. Staying conscious- staying with Bucky- sounded better than sleep. But you were tired- exhausted. Your body begged for rest. So, with another whisper of Bucky’s name, you fell back into a deep sleep. Of course, Bucky wanted to be there for you. He wanted to support you and listen while you purged every last memory from your time at Hydra. He wanted to be your shoulder to cry on, your confidante. But he could wait until you were ready.

He sat at your bed side, never leaving or dozing off. Waiting for you.

-----

An agonized groan tore out of your throat. Your eyes opened, greeted by the glare of too-bright lights. The taste of metal coated your tongue. But you were home. And just like he promised, Bucky was by your side.

“There she is…” he pulled his chair as close to your bed as he could and took your hand gently in his. “How do you feel?”

“Like I-” Speaking hurt. “Like I got hit by a train.”

Bucky knew the feeling.

He handed you a glass of water, hoping to ease the scorched sensation in your throat. It helped- if only for a moment.

Too many emotions lurked under Bucky’s surface. He didn’t know what to say or how to say it. He just watched your shaking hand pull the glass to your lips. You looked rough- bruised and bloody. He knew you were miserable. But he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“I’m so glad you’re home, doll,” a sob welled in the back of his throat, constricting his airway. It took everything in him not to set it free. “I missed you.”

“Missed you more,” you rasped. “Thanks for being my knight in shining armor…” You stared at him expectantly, “get it? Shining arm-or?”

“Good one…” Bucky let out a strained laugh. He didn’t know how you could already make jokes about your waking nightmare. Bucky’s world stopped spinning when you went missing- he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t eat or sleep. He thought only about you, suffering somewhere, all alone.

The room fell silent for a moment, save for the beeping of various machines. And Bucky couldn’t contain himself.

“Hey…”

You cocked your head at him, grimacing at the pain your neck.

“I wanted to tell you that I- you have no idea how important you are. You mean so much to me, and I’m not… I’m not great with words.” He left out a small huff, disappointed in his clunky phrasing. His tone grew more desperate, “I just need you to know- I was looking for you. From the second I heard you were missing, I searched for you. Every second. I wasn’t gonna give up until I found you. I don’t want you to think that I took my time or didn’t care- I know it took longer than either of us hoped, but I-”

You held up a hand, he fell quiet. “I know, Buck. I knew you were looking for me… or, for my body.”

Bucky hunched forward in his seat, resting his forehead against your bed. The exhaustion and emotional turmoil finally got the best of him. And the thought bringing home your corpse was too much. A shaky exhale left his lungs.

You rested your hand gently on his head, playing with his hair like you often did. Bucky didn’t realize how much he’d missed it- the feeling of your hands in his hair.

“I wasn’t gonna stop until I brought you home.”

That sounded like him. Loyal, devoted, unstoppable- especially when it came to you.

And then he mumbled something low, something that fell to his feet. You asked him to repeat himself.

Bucky sat up with a sigh, his brows knitted together from worry. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I- I’ve never seen you cry like that…”

You nodded. “I know. I, um… I didn’t cry the entire time I was there.” Fire torched your throat, forcing you to take pause.

Bucky stared at you in disbelief, “What?”

He handed you your water and watched as you struggled to take small sips. And when you were ready, you continued.

“There was no- I didn’t see a point. In crying, I mean. I knew I was gonna die- from the second they grabbed me- I resigned myself to death.”

The air vanished from Bucky’s lungs.

“It seemed like a waste of my energy, I guess. You know how they say there’s no point in crying over spilled milk?”

He nodded.

“Well… there’s no point in crying over certain death, either. So, I didn’t. I knew the chances of anyone finding me were pretty fucking abysmal. I mean, a secret underground bunker with a false wall? The odds were impossible.”

“But, doll-”

“I know- you found me. I didn’t die. But every day, I waited for it to come. I wondered what the final blow would be.” You ran a trembling hand down your face, wincing as your fingers made contact with a new wound. “And then they just… they left me there.”

Bucky thought back on the building, how empty it was, how eerily silent. At the time, he’d been too focused on finding you to notice the lack of operatives.

“I think they realized I wasn’t gonna give up any intel. And the building was already compromised. So, they left. I think they figured that killing me was too kind- that leaving me to die of dehydration or hunger or blood loss- or a combination of the three- was more appropriate.”

The image of you, all alone, your wrists wrapped in chains and secured to the ceiling. Blood pooling on the floor beneath your feet. It made Bucky shudder. They left you there. They broke your bones, spilled your blood, torched your nervous system- and then abandoned you. He didn’t know how long you hung there, desperate for help- and wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Then I heard you…” you said, a small smile pulling at your lips. “I heard you- I guess you were talking to someone on comms. And I couldn’t… I didn’t know if it was real. And you kept calling to me and then you were just- there. In front of me.” A quiet laugh huffed out of your chest, and you groaned at the sensation. “I kind of thought I died…” you said, your voice still strained. “I thought maybe you were, I don’t know, my escort to the other side, or some shit.”

Bucky laughed for your benefit- but didn’t find it funny.

“But then you actually touched me. You took the gag from my mouth and pulled those things out of my back and-” Fresh tears welled in your eyes, “it was real. You were real. The feeling of your hands on me, the smell of your skin- it was home. I thought I’d never see you again. And I couldn’t believe you were there.”

You took a moment to regroup, to breathe. Thoughts of your time with Hydra crashed into you time and time again- but you found yourself smiling. “I needed to daydream to get myself through. I had to put my mind elsewhere to distract from the pain- and I thought of you. Every time. You were my escape.”

Bucky blushed. He dreamed of you, too. Dreamed of you coming home safe. Crawling into bed with him. Tangling your fingers in his hair and wrapping your body around his.

“But this time, it wasn’t a daydream. And I cried- out of relief, I think. At first, it was relief. The relief that I’d get to be with you again, the relief brought on by your hands. It sent me over the edge. And then something took over and I… I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know how to.” Just speaking about it brought fresh tears to the surface. They crashed into you and flooded your cheeks, making tracks on your skin.

“I finally let myself cry… and I cried for me. Does that make sense? I stayed strong the entire time- I didn’t let myself breakdown or anything. But then you showed up and I gave myself permission. I allowed myself to feel sorry for what I went through. I cried for what happened to me. For what I’d endured. The pain and the fear and the suffering. And then… I cried for you.”

Bucky looked lost, “For me?”

You nodded. “I know what I went through- it was hell. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But I was only there for- what? A few weeks? I thought about how much I suffered, and then I thought of you. And how they had you for years- for decades. Hurting you over and over and over again. Stealing your sense of self.” Emotion flooded you already hoarse voice, “It crushed me, thinking of you like that, trapped with no hope of escape.” You sniffled, “It was too much.”

Bucky carefully took your hand in his, like he feared you might break. “Don’t think about it like that, doll. We both suffered, that’s enough.” He flashed you a smile, “And hey, I’m fine- well, I’m mostly fine. So don’t worry about me.” He flashed you a warm smile that you swore eased the throbbing in your skull.

Things fell quiet after that. Bucky kept your hand, swiping his thumb across your knuckles every now and then. He assumed all the talking wore you out. He expected you to go back to sleep, to recoup the energy you lost. But you were wide awake.

“Hey…” you said, breaking the still quiet. “I love you.”

Bucky shifted in his chair. His pulse pounded and he thanked god he wasn’t the one attached to a heart rate monitor. He searched your face for a joking smile, but found only sincerity. Surely, you were loopy. Out of it. High on pain medication.

“Oh…” was all he could manage to say.

You weren’t under the influence of narcotics or speaking out of exhaustion. Your words were clear, full of conviction and commitment. You meant what you said. “I don’t care if it’s weird. I had a lot of time to think, and I just need you to know I love you.” A fresh tear rolled over your waterline and down your cheek, “Cause life is fragile. And it ends unexpectedly. And I love you. The thing I feared most down there was that I’d never see you again. And now that I’m here, I can’t keep it to myself.”

Bucky’s cheeks flushed a soft pink. He’d waited what felt like a lifetime to hear those words from you, but he couldn’t allow himself to believe them. “Doll, I think that might be… I don’t know, recency bias. Or like ‘knight in shining armor syndrome’- Is that a thing? Like Stockholm syndrome, but for a rescuer?” He forced a laugh that came out far too casual. “How about you rest- get some more sleep, recover. We can talk about it when you’re feeling more like yourself.”

You could’ve smacked him if he weren’t so sweet. “No, I know what I’m saying” you insisted, almost angry. “I knew I loved you before, I was just too much of a chicken to say anything. I was too scared. But now that I’ve been captured and tortured by Hydra? I’m not afraid of anything- except being without you.” You grimaced as you reached outward, needing desperately to take his face in your hands. “So… I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time. And I’m sorry it took something so awful for me to tell you the truth.”

Bucky gently pulled your hands from his face and pressed a kiss to each palm. “I was afraid to tell you, too…” he said. “But after everything that’s happened, the only thing that scares me anymore is something happening to you. Losing you. I got a taste of what life is like without you and it’s- I’d rather be tortured by Hydra. Again.”

You scoffed, “Okay- well, I don’t know about that-”

“I’m serious. I don’t want to live in a world without you- just doesn’t seem worth it. Cause I love you.”

Bucky chuckled at the loud, sharp uptick in your heart rate monitor. He never knew he could have such an affect on you. A swarm of nurses burst through the door, flooding the room with concern for your wellbeing.

“I’m okay- I’m fine. Sorry, just got, um…” you made eyes at Bucky, “just got a little excited. That’s all.”

The head nurse gave you a once over, “let’s keep the excitement to a minimum, alright? Get some rest.”

Bucky stood from his chair and took a seat on your bed, careful not to jostle you. He ran his fingers up your arm and swept a thumb over your cheek- just taking you in. Committing every detail of your existence to his memory.

“She’s right, you know. You need to rest,” he said. “And you probably shouldn’t be talking so much.”

“Wow, trying to shut me up already?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Never. But, can I get you a tea? Something warm to help with the pain?”

The scratchy, raw feeling in your throat pulsed with every swallow, every sound you made. Bucky was right, you needed something soothing. But as you opened your mouth to say so, he stopped you.

“Black tea, extra honey?” He quirked a brow at your surprised expression, “oh, come on. I love you- you really think I don’t know your order? I’m offended.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head with a promise to be back as soon as he possibly could. And as he left your room for the first time since your return home, he swore to himself that he’d make you his. Forever.

——————————

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