#and a half hours after the last two days I’ve had is fucking nothing. going to nap city will fix me.

[milo-is-rambling]

Weight talk tw I guess idk how to describe the post sorry im a little high

It’s so weird being around people who talk about weight problems (IOP) and like idk it brings up weird shit in my brain almost anxiety that I should feel bad about myself somehow like I’m doing this wrong being confident idk. Weird self doubt thing that happens when you’ve loved yourself (hmm. Rephrase. I don’t care about being fat. let’s say that.) and then you’re in a room full of people having a group discussion about how they avoid living their life in happy ways because they don’t want to become like you. But you love yourself. But everyone in your life since you were little has been dieting and talking about weight and specific numbers (someone was anxious about gaining seven pounds! SEVEN. If they saw my scale they would shit themselves. I put on seven pounds taking a big bong rip Jesus fucking Christ seven pounds. I wanted to rip my hair out.)

Next time weight issues come up in IOP I’m stepping out of the room. Like idk how to explain it cause it’s like not a trigger but I guess it is ? But it’s just so weird like the way I’m triggered makes me want to cry why does the world hate me for being fat what the fuck !!!!

[johndonneswife]

[not-neverland06]

How About A Nuke?

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV

The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: I’ve received more love and interaction with this series than I have with any of my other works, so thank you all so much for that ♥️ That being said, I’ve also had a lot of comments talking about how excited readers are for Cooper eventually finding his humanity. This is not going to be that chapter, so strap in and good luck. I’m anticipating there to be about two chapter of this story (most likely.) Summary: The surface sucks. There’s nothing else to it, you’re affronted by violence and brutality every minute you’re up here. The one thing that’s kept you going has been Cooper slowly easing up, you should have known better. Warnings: Themes of SA but none is actually committed.

“Up,” you jumped, jolted harshly out of your restless sleep. You weren’t sure when you’d passed out last night but it was a long while after you’d struck your deal with Cooper. A glance through one of the holes in the wall told you it was still slightly dark outside. 

He strode to the door, throwing it open and not bothering to see if you were following. You scrambled up to your feet, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes while you hurried to catch up with him. You trailed slightly behind him for a while, not willing to risk pissing him off by getting too close. 

He’d always been an even tempered man, at least when you’d known him, this brutality was something completely foreign to you. Left you feeling like you were walking on glass every time you even looked at him. 

After about an hour and a half of walking without speaking, you felt yourself starting to go a little crazy. You rushed up to his side, glaring under the harsh beams of sunlight. “Where are we headed?” He didn’t bother looking at you or even acknowledging that you spoke. 

He simply kept his eyes ahead and kept going. You huffed and let yourself fall back again. He clearly wasn’t in the mood for conversation today. Another hour and you felt yourself starting to slow down. You didn’t have a handy little canteen like Cooper did, you certainly didn’t have any fucking sunscreen. You could already feel yourself starting to pour sweat and your lips were peeling again. 

Any rest you’d gotten from last night was zapped out of you. You’d barely started the day’s journey and already you felt like you were going to keel over. You stopped for a moment, not thinking he’d pay attention, and leaned over to try and catch your breath. 

“Come on!” You glanced up. He’d stopped a few yards up ahead, he was glaring at you, impatiently waiting for you to get a move on. You groaned, taking in a deep breath and forcing your feet to move again. 

“Please, can I just have a sip of water?”

He grinned and pulled out the canteen. You felt the briefest amount of energy shooting back through you at the prospect of water. Your hands reached for it but he snatched it away and took a deep gulp. You licked your lips, mouth feeling even dryer while you watched him guzzle the last of his water down. 

You felt yourself deflate again, too tired to even get properly mad at him. He was just being a dick now. “Fuck you,” you muttered, brushing past him and continuing ahead. 

“Come on, darlin’,” he caught up with you. Not like it was hard, you were going the pace of a turtle right now. 

You felt like a panting dog under the summer sun, practically drooling in an attempt to keep your throat moistened. You pulled the zipper of the vault suit down and tied the sleeves around your waist. 

“I’d keep that zipped if I were you.” You knew he was talking about, the black slip you had on underneath the suit. Probably not smart to go advertising your assets like this, you had no idea had bad the people out here were. But so far you hadn’t seen anyone for miles and you needed a few minutes to try and dry the sweat on your back. 

You didn’t bother responding to him, it was a waste of breath at this point. “You ignoring me now?” You grunted, reaching up to wipe off your forehead and slick the hairs off your skin. “You wouldn’t want the water anyway, unless you got a purifier everything you’ll find out here is radiated to all hell.”

“You were still an asshole,” you muttered. 

He scoffed, glancing over at you before looking back out at the horizon. “We’ll be coming up on an old town, see if you can find yourself some supplies while we’re passing through.” You glanced over at him but he was walking ahead of you again. 

You wondered if this was his attempt at an apology or if he was just heading there because he needed something. Either way, it would provide you a break at least. 

“This is pathetic.”

You glared up at Cooper from where you sit curled up on the floor of an old house. “I’ll remind you that as of yesterday, to me, the most physical labor I had to do was switch out with a stunt double.”

He scoffed and shook his head, not bothering to respond. He walked past you and started rummaging around in drawers. From the abandoned bed rolls on the ground it was clear that somebody used to use this place as their base. You just wondered what sent them running. 

“Hey,” he barked, “we’re not staying here forever. Get a fucking move on.”

You groaned and slowly got to your feet, you stumbled to the other side of the house, rummaging around for anything you could change into or something to eat. You could hear Cooper moving around in the back of the house. He kept slamming drawers and cussing up a storm. 

You’re not sure what crawled up his ass and died but you figure it’s smart to just stay out of the way while he’s like this. 

She made his skin crawl. Being around her was just a constant reminder of what he’d had, who he’d been, and what he was now. Everytime she looked at him with those hurt eyes of hers he just wanted to shoot something. 

He hated feeling like this, almost like he was out of control. He knew what he was, he knew what he had to do to survive in a world like this. But she didn’t. She was naive to the way the Wastelands worked and innocent to the brutality she’d soon find herself in the middle of. 

He should have left her dying in the sand. He should have left her to choke to death in her pod. He was itching to get to Filly, the longer he stayed around her the more on edge he felt. He didn’t need someone slowing him down, she was a weakness and the Ghoul didn’t do weaknesses. 

His hands twitched towards the holster at his side and for a moment he really thought about it. Just sneaking up behind her and burying a bullet in her skull. He’d be getting rid of his problem and saving her from a lot of trouble in the future. She’d never do well in this new world, she was still someone from the old world. 

It would be a mercy to just put her out of her misery now. 

The button of the holster clicked as he popped it open. Slowly, he made his way towards the room she was in, the leather of his gloves creaking as he wrapped his hand around the handle of his gun. Quick, in and out. She wouldn’t even know what was happening before it was too late and the light in her eyes was out. 

Her back was to him, rummaging around in the wreckage of the room. She was completely vulnerable and exposed. Like she didn’t understand how easy it would be for someone to sneak up on her or she stupidly expected him to defend her. 

“Hey! I think I found something!”

His hand jolted away from his gun and he shook his head. What the fuck was he thinking? He still technically needed her for his business in Filly. “What?” He snapped. 

She let out a yelp and jumped. She whirled around on him, hand clutching her chest and stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. It really would be easy to just take her out now. 

“Jesus,” he could tell when she was about to say his name. She’d bite her lip real hard and frown, she was doing it now. For a moment he was thinking about how they used to scare each other. They would make a stupid game of it and she would always hit him and yell, Jesus, Coop! 

He used to think it was hilarious. Now he was just resisting the urge to draw his gun on her. 

“What,” he enunciated each word, speaking to her like she was a child, “did you find?”

She glared at him and moved aside, showing him the stash of shit she’d uncovered. There were a lot of good supplies here, nothing he could use, but enough to stick in a pack for her. Only problem was nobody would leave all this here. Either they were coming back for it or whatever had killed them off was coming for it. 

“Hurry and pack this shit up, we need to get out of here.” When she didn’t move fast enough he snapped, “Now!” She knelt down, hurriedly scooping all the supplies into the ratty old bag on the ground next to them. 

He walked back towards the front of the house, pulling his gun out and surveying the destroyed houses. He didn’t see anybody but that didn’t mean shit anymore. Ever since Muldaver started bringing people into her cult the raiders seemed to have been getting smarter. They needed to get the fuck out and quick. 

“Alright, let's go!” He leaned back in the doorway, peering back into the house and waiting for her to pop out. There was a moment of silence and he frowned, slowly heading back into the house. 

A scream ripped out of the room, echoing into the empty streets of the neighborhood. He rushed back into the house and slowed down once he reached the hall. He could hear her talking to someone, yelling at them more like. He only heard two other voices, wouldn’t be too bad if he didn’t hear more approaching the front of the house. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. He flipped open the chamber of his gun, counting his bullets and trying to decide whether or not she was actually worth helping. 

“Well, ain’t you pretty?”

“Back the fuck off,” you clutched the backpack to your chest, gaze darting between the two men before you. Men was being generous, you’re sure they’d been men once but now they were just twisted freaks capable of nothing but violence. 

The one on the left smiled, blackened teeth making an appearance and the boils around his mouth shifting. You stumbled further back, nearly tripping over a toppled over couch. You only had so much room to move, you were gonna be backed into a corner soon and you didn’t want to think about what they would do to you then. 

The scalpel in your pocket could slit one of their throats but the other one would be on you before you could blink. Still, you kept your hand firmly wrapped around it while you glared at them. 

“You know,” the one on the right started. You could practically smell him from here, his hair so greasy it looked soaking wet. “You’re being awfully rude for someone who just helped herself to our supplies.”

“Pay the price pretty lady and we’ll let you go,” he leered and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what the “price” was. You’d sooner slit your own throat then spread your legs for them. But you also weren’t about to give up the supplies in the bag you were holding. You may be new to this whole Wastelands thing, but you figured Cooper wasn’t going to share. If you didn’t get this bag out of here, you weren’t going to make it another day. 

“You got a working right hand, go fuck yourself.”

They laughed and moved in closer. “We got a fighter, Bart!”

“Sure do, Jed.”

You yelped, tripping over a loose plank of wood and falling on your ass, the scalpel flew out of your hand and skittered across the floor. You barely even breathed before they were pouncing on you. Rough hands gripped your ankles and dragged you across the splintered floor. They were more wild animals than men. 

You tried to kick out, screaming for help and flailing your fists wildly. You felt your hand connect with something hard and then there was a low groan of pain before your arms were being pinned. “No! Let me go!”

They started laughing, one of them tugging the sleeves of your suit off your waist and whistling at the slip underneath. You brought your knee up into his gut but it barely phased him. He just swatted your leg to the side like you were nothing to him. 

You could feel a visceral type of panic brewing in you. There were a lot of things worse than death. The prospect of these men actually getting their hands on you had you kicking out again. You tugged on your arms until you were sure you were doing more damage to yourself than to them. But you didn’t care, you couldn’t think, you were working on the base instinct to protect yourself. 

The sound of spurs echoed down the hallway before Cooper was turning the corner. He had his gun raised and was pointing it right at them. “I do believe the lady said no.”

“We found her first,” one of them let go of your suit to crouch in front of you. He looked like an animal guarding his territory. The other chuckled, barely sparing Cooper a glance. 

“Actually,” he cocked the hammer of his gun back, “you didn’t.”

You processed your ears ringing before you got to the gunshot. You couldn’t hear anything, a high pitched whining making your jaw clench in pain. Your arms went slack and you quickly pulled your pants back up, zipping the suit all the way to your throat. You rolled onto your hands and knees, barely cognizant of the puddle of blood you were dragging yourself through. 

Two arms wrapped around your waist and you acted without thought. You swung out blindly, yelling and clawing like a wild cat. “-nough! That’s enough, come on!” Cooper’s voice broke through the haze and you went limp with relief. 

He tightened his arms around you and dragged you to your feet. You glanced down at yourself, finally feeling the warmth seeping through your clothes. You were doused head-to-toe in those men’s blood. Your face was completely covered. 

You glanced to the right and had to suppress a gag. Brains and skull were mashed together in a disgusting puddle of gore, nothing left of the men who’d grabbed you. “Hey,” Cooper shook you slightly and your eyes shot back to his. “We need to leave now, they’ll be more coming.”

You nodded dumbly, not really sure you were processing what was actually going on. Half of you was still stuck thinking you had to keep fighting, the other half wanted to be back in the cryogenic pod. He wrapped a hand around your arm and shoved the bag into your arms. 

Then you felt something heavy being pressed into the palm of your hand. You glanced down, surprised to find one of his guns in your hand. “What’re-”

“Clearly, you need something to defend yourself. You still remember how to shoot, don't you?” You nodded, of course you did, he’s the one that taught you. “Good, now move your ass.” He gave you a rough shove and you stumbled over the bodies. 

One thing you were learning was that you didn’t get a whole lot of time to process things in the Wastelands. One minute you were on the floor being stripped and the next you were ducking behind an old house to avoid raiders. You didn’t linger on what happened, you tried to keep your mind firmly gripped in the present. You couldn’t give it too much thought or you’d shut down. 

Cooper moved ahead of you, slinking around the back of the neighborhood to make sure the coast was clear. You slid the straps of the bag over your shoulders and followed quietly after him. You made it to the border of the houses and figured you could relax a bit now. 

Clearly, they weren’t coming after you. They might have heard the gunshots but they had no clue where you were. Cooper wasn’t going to risk it though, he wrapped his hand around your arm again and roughly dragged you behind him. 

“Keep up, I’m not gonna come back for you if you fall behind.”

But he already had. He could have left you to those raiders. He came back for you, even he couldn’t deny that. 

“Do you think we’ll be safe here?” He glanced up at you and nodded wordlessly. You stacked the last piece of wood for the fire and sat back. He leaned forward, striking his knife against a rock and waiting for the sparks to catch. 

You watched without thought, mind lingering on the feeling of blood sticking to your skin and clothes. Everytime you moved bits of it flaked off or crusted further onto your skin. You were nearly ready to just claw your skin off to get rid of the feeling. 

“Here,” you glanced up, surprised to find him holding up a wet cloth. “Wipe your face off, you look fucking insane.”

You grabbed it, scrubbing at your face and hands until your skin was raw. “Thanks,” you muttered, tossing the cloth back to him. He caught it and tucked it in his pocket. It felt strange between you. You’re not sure what it was exactly. Maybe you were just projecting, still worked up from what happened earlier. 

It wasn’t a bad strange, per say, just odd. “Take first watch,” he ordered. You just nodded, watching as he leaned against the wall of the old house you were camped in. He pulled his hat over his eyes and stilled. You weren’t sure he was asleep until you heard a few light snores coming from him. 

You glanced down at the gun in your hands. You opened the chamber and counted the bullets before closing it again. It wasn’t like the guns he used to teach you with, that’s for sure. It was bigger, bulkier, probably had a bitch of a recoil too. But you could point and aim well enough, hopefully you wouldn’t need to fire off more than one shot if someone did bother you tonight. 

You’re not sure when you fell asleep, you know you shouldn’t. It’s up to you to make sure no one tries to slit your throat in your sleep. But the events of the day caught up to you faster than you thought they would and before you knew it you were slumping back against the wall and dead to the world. 

Your eyes snap open at the sound of wood creaking. There’s a man, he looks like the ones from today, standing over Cooper. He’s got his knife hovering above his throat. You’re pulling the trigger before you can even think about what you’re doing. 

He lets out a howl of pain and slumps onto the floor. Cooper’s eyes shoot open and he jumps up, he pulls out his own gun but the man is already dead before he can pull the trigger. You stare at the body in shock, mind running so fast you can’t even process what you’re thinking. 

“I killed him,” you muttered. You can feel the gun slipping out of your grasp, hands shaking too badly to keep a good grip on it. “I killed him.”

Cooper walks over and picks the gun back up. He sticks it into the pocket of your backpack and grabs your face. You wince slightly as his fingers push against the bruises on your cheeks but don’t complain. He’s not being rough like you’ve come to expect. 

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes boring into yours with an unreadable expression. “I just killed him,” you whisper again. You’re still trying to reconcile with that fact. You knew it would happen eventually, today had taught you that much. But you hadn’t expected it to shock you as much as it had. 

Maybe it’s because you didn’t manage to blow his head off with one shot. You watched as the light left his eyes. 

“You did a good job, we need to move now, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

And despite what you’d just done, you could really only focus on the fact that was the first time he’d called you that without sounding cruel. 

You were getting closer to Filly, you could see a large forest a couple miles ahead of you. Being closer to the trees, even by such a little amount, was doing wonders in improving your mood. You found you didn’t mind the sun and heat as much when you just kept reminding yourself that soon you could find some shade. 

You passed by an old sunken billboard, Filly spray painted across it with an arrow pointing the way. You found yourself pushing Cooper further ahead today, more and more excited to find somewhere with halfway civilized people. 

You made it to the edge of the forest before Cooper stopped you. He threw his bag down next to a fallen log and pointed up towards the sky. “Sun’s setting, trust me, you don’t want to be exploring these woods after dark.”

The ominous tone had chills raising along your arms, you frowned and glanced towards the dense grove of trees. Something within them trilled out towards the night sky. You found yourself scooting a little closer to him, wary of what was waiting in there for you. 

He huffed out a laugh and started building a fire. You dug through your bag, pulling out the few rations you’d gleaned from the raiders. You held one out to him but he shook his head and pulled out his odd looking jerky instead. 

You’re not really sure what that shit is made of, but you know you don’t want to know. You were too afraid to ask him. Especially after you tried a bite the other day, it didn’t taste like any meat you recognized. 

You ate in a comfortable silence, the sound of your chewing drowned out by the insects flitting around in the trees above you. But he kept glancing at you, giving you odd looks that had you on edge. “What?” You finally snapped, sick of him looking at you weird. 

You hadn’t felt clean since you’d crossed the desert, but after what happened yesterday your skin was crawling with shame and disgust. You felt like you needed to scrape the skin off until you felt clean. He was making you feel even worse. 

“So,” he leaned back against the log. He took his time getting comfortable, letting you squirm before he deigned to finish his sentence. “You really didn’t leave for Vault-Tec?”

You glared at him and shook your head. Why did he still think that? How could he think that? It pissed you off to no end. “Why in God’s name would I do that?” Your tone was indignant. But there was a slightly desperate undertone to it as well. You hated the thought of Cooper genuinely thinking that you had just up and left him one day without a word. 

“Well, I don’t know. I looked for you for a while. Eventually I gave up, figured you’d just found someone else to shack up with.”

You were pained that he would think that of you. “How could you say that?”

He chuckled but it wasn’t kind, it was that cruel laugh that made you feel small, like something to be squashed under his boot. “Well, not like we meant a whole lot to each other.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. Not fully processing what he was trying to say to you. “What?”

It took you by surprise, the hatred in his eyes when he glared at you. “What do you think happened, sweetheart?” You hated the way your old nickname rolled off his tongue. It sounded tainted now, twisted by his cruelty. 

“You were at the peak of your career, the sexiest actress of your generation,” he sneered at you, yellowed teeth flashing in the firelight. Your fingers curled into your palms, broken nails digging dully into your cracked skin. His eyes ticked up in interest at your minute shift in behavior. He had always been good at reading people. Except he didn’t used to use that skill so horribly. 

He didn’t let up, digging further into you when he noticed your discomfort. “You were a sex symbol, darlin’ and I was freshly divorced. Did you really think any of that was love?” He scoffed and you felt tears pricking at your eyes. “No,” he shook his head and ripped off another piece of jerky, scoffing at you. “You really think I was gonna say no to a pretty young thing like you? You were just a hole to fill, honey. That’s all.”

You felt like you’d been punched in the gut, actually, you’d think you’d prefer that to how you feel right now. It was getting hard to get the air down your throat, you felt like you were suffocating on the smoke from the fire. Winded and you hadn’t even done anything. 

Everything, everything, he was saying was perfectly concocted to hurt you as much as fucking possible. He knew how you felt about your place in the world, how desperately you had crawled your way into being seen as something human. You’re sure he’s just saying this to hurt you, to keep you away. 

If you were more mature you might even just let it go, realize it was a childish attempt at hurting you and keep going. But this was a man you’d opened up to completely. To take those parts of yourself that he knew were vulnerable and wield them like a weapon against you was something you just couldn’t look past. Especially not after what happened yesterday. 

You clenched your eyes shut, trying to keep the tears at bay and weakly nodded your head. “Alright. You’ve said your piece. You done?”

He nearly frowned, eyes lowering as he gave you an odd look over the fire. He seemed to be expecting something else. Maybe for you to fight back. Well, if that’s what he wanted he was going to be sorely disappointed. He’d just drained the fight out of you with a few measly insults. 

After a tense moment of silence he nodded. “Great,” you refused to look at him as you got up and grabbed your pack. 

“Where are you going?” he questioned, tone souring as you continued to avoid looking at him. 

“Far away from you as I can get,” you muttered, stalking off into the dead trees. You weren’t a complete idiot, you stayed in sight of the fire, but you couldn’t bear to lay so close to him tonight. Not after what he just said to you. Not after you thought you had finally been making progress and he threw that in your face. 

“Fine, pout all you want sweetheart, give the radroaches a nice meal!” He shouted at your retreating back. You still kept your head down, hand clutched over your stomach while you tried not to cry. You threw your bag down on the ground, a choked sob slipping through your lips while you sank against a tree. 

You felt so stupid! To actually believe that any of the man you loved was left in him had been a fool’s hope. You wiped your eyes harshly, pissed at yourself for crying again. This was the apocalypse, there wasn’t time to cry and moan because the man you loved didn’t love you back. 

You’d dealt with that feeling for years when you pined after Cooper. You could deal with it again. 

Only, the last time you’d pined like this, you hadn’t actually had a taste of what being with him was really like. Knowing that the whole time you were with him he just saw you as something to pass the time hurt you more than you wanted to admit. 

You glanced over your shoulder, watching as he packed away the rest of his food and sank back against the log. He tilted his hat over his eyes and settled in for the night. You turned back around, using the dwindling light of the fire to scope out the forest before you. 

Cooper had said it was only a day’s walk to Filly. Go a mile north into the trees and you’d find the signs pointing the way. His cruel words festered bitterly in your stomach and you found yourself on your feet before you could really think about what you were doing. 

You crept your way towards the campfire and grabbed one of the burning sticks. Cooper shifted and you stilled, wincing as you waited for him to wake up and question what you were doing. But he just shifted onto his side. You ran back towards your bag and threw it over your shoulder. 

You only spared Cooper one last look before you made your way further into the woods. He’d made it clear enough that he wasn’t looking for companionship or friendship. You could respect that, but you weren’t going to tolerate him being a fucking dick to you at every opportunity he got. 

If he wanted to see how far he could push you until you reached the edge, he’d done it. You were done trying to cater to his temper. You could make it a day on your own. After that, you’d find something for yourself in Filly, but you were sure as hell done with Cooper Howard. 

He was a ghost that should have stayed fucking dead. 

SERIES TAGLIST: @pixelatedprofilepic @o0mellowdramatic0o @bisasterbisexual @julianmarie @v3n1x @weakling-grace @coolrobloxkid28 @sunnexaltation @fiftyshadesofokay @ktdragonborn

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[loudstan]

(67) Days of Whatever the Fuck that Was (PART 2.)

Summary: Chenle wasn't interested in committed relationships until he met the one. The problem is that now she is the one who doesn't want to commit to him.

Pairing: Werewolf! Chenle x Siren! Female reader

Warnings: OOff where do I start. Things get dubious, and even a bit non-conish sometimes so do not read if that's not something you're into. A lot of mind games, manipulation, gaslighting, and all the red flags you can think of. Y/N is MEAN. Also, this is super long so i had to make two separate posts. Read both if you want to know how it started! SMUT.

(PART 2)

“Why’s Jisung crying?” Kun asked when he saw the youngest member of the pack trying to hide how glossy his eyes were a few days later.

“I’m not,” Jisung replied stubbornly, but the words came out broken.

“He watched (500) Days of Summer,” Renjun deadpanned. 

“You watched–,” Kun burst out laughing. “It’s a romantic comedy! How did you end up crying?”

“It’s not romantic, nor funny,” Jisung disagreed.

Renjun sighed. “He’s worried about Chenle.”

“Oh…” Kun frowned. “Is he still hiding in his room?”

Renjun and Jisung nodded.

Kun sighed and hesitantly walked to Chenle’s room, knocking on the door and letting himself in when he heard a monotonous ‘come in’ from the other side.

“Hey, Lele…,” he greeted awkwardly. “How are you feeling?”

Chenle was sprawling in bed, with dark circles under a pair of eyes stuck to the laptop screen.

“Hm,” he replied, without elaborating.

“What are you up to?” Kun asked casually, walking closer to take a look at the screen. “Oh…You’re watching that movie too…”

Chenle barely nodded. “I’ve watched it  6 times. Each time it becomes more obvious that they would never end up together. Funny, isn’t it?” his dull voice said.

“Lele, I’m so sorry,” Kun said sincerely. Not only for what happened to the younger werewolf,  but also for even mentioning that stupid movie.

“It was gonna happen sooner or later,” Chenle closed his laptop and finally looked at the oldest. “She didn’t want me. Not the way I want her, at least.”

Kun looked at him sadly.

“Maybe I could make my own movie,” Chenle joked unenthusiastically. “The title would be (67) Days of Whatever the Fuck that Was.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” the older offered.

“Sure, you could convince her to take me back,” Chenle chuckled humorlessly. “Forget it, gege. There’s nothing anyone could do,” he said, before putting his laptop away and pulling the covers all the way up until they covered his head. “Can you close the door when you leave, please?”

“I…sure,” Kun murmured, walking out and closing the door quietly.  He stood in the corridor for an entire minute as he considered his options. “Fuck it,” he murmured, for once not caring about his manners.

He went back to the living room where Jisung and Renjun were waiting expectantly. “Get up, you two,” Kun told them. “We’re going to the bar.”

“Yeosang, I’m fine,” you insisted after he begged you to go rest for the 5th time.

“ You haven’t seen your mate in a week, and you know that can affect your health. You shouldn’t abuse your body.”

“It’s almost time to close. There are like 5 people here. It can’t be that hard, ” you laughed.

“I can handle it for the last half of an hour,” he offered. “You haven’t been looking too good lately–”

“It’s getting better,” you lied before turning to the customer to take his order. “Hi! What can I get you?”

“Three glasses of Eternal Dusk, please,” a handsome man with a charming smile said, handing you his credit card. 

“Right away,” you replied with a smile, scanning the card and handing it back to him before preparing the drinks skillfully and handing them to him.

 He thanked you and took the drinks to the table where his friends were waiting for him. You thought you recognized one of them, but he quickly looked away, suddenly being very interested in the wall behind him. Over the course of the night, they kept stealing glances at you, quickly looking away and talking secretly in their tiny group. Eventually, the same guy who had ordered the drinks earlier approached the bar again.

“Another round?” you offered.

“Uh, actually–” he stopped mid-sentence with a wince and hesitantly grabbed a pendant that was hanging from a chain, tucked under his shirt. He inspected the relic suspiciously like it wasn’t his own.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

He looked at you and then back at the pendant, which he quickly hid back under his shirt. “Y-yeah sorry,” he smiled politely. “I was wondering–... you’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, I–uh, I’m from the Scarlet Islands,” you disclosed. “Why?”

“Figures. Your beauty is…definitely not something you see in this town,” he said cheekily, looking at you like he had found out your biggest secret.

“Are you going to order something or not?” Yeosang interrupted the conversation, standing in between you and the customer. 

The man smiled at Yeosang before shaking his head and waving goodbye. “I think we’re done for tonight,” he said, going to his table and hurrying his friends out of the bar.

“What a creep,” Yeosang said. 

“Y-yeah,” you chuckled nervously and started cleaning up now that the last customers were gone.

“Heeey, Sangie,” Wooyoung greeted cheerfully approaching the bar. “Can I steal Y/N away for a little bit?”

Yeosang glared at Wooyoung suspiciously. 

“It won’t be anything stupid, I promise,” Wooyung said, trying to look as innocent as possible.

“I’ll be okay, Sangie,” you chuckled, walking away with Wooyoung when Yeosang finally nodded hesitantly.

Wooyoung guided you out of the ship, to the dock that connected it to land. It was late at night and the place was deserted. The only sound you could hear was the water splashing the wooden ship and the distant voices of the crew members coming from inside the ship.

When you looked at Wooyoung you were surprised to see him taking his shirt off.

“What are you doing?” you asked, astonished.

“I’m getting undressed,” he said, unbuckling his belt.

“I can see that. Why?”

“We’re going swimming!” he exclaimed, stepping out of his pants to present himself in front of you in his underwear. “Why are you just standing there? Do you need me to take your clothes off for you?” he asked suggestively.

“Woo, it’s late…” you tried to reason.

“I’ll push you. Don’t test me.”

You saw a mischievous glint in his eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine, I guess it won’t hurt to swim a little bit,” you said, undressing yourself until you were only wearing your bra and panties. The crew had seen you in a swimming suit before, so this was basically the same. And it was dark, so you weren’t worried about him seeing through the fabric once it got wet

You followed Wooyoung into the water and sighed at the feeling surrounding you.

“Feel good?” Wooyoung asked, apprehensively.

“Really good,” you admitted, surprised. Your body had felt heavy and ached for the last few days, but you were suddenly feeling so relieved.

“Seawater restores sirens’ vitality,” Wooyoung commented, very proud of himself. “I read about it.”

“Aaw, were you worried about me?” you teased.

He splashed water on your face as a response. You gasped and splashed him back, starting a childish battle that ended with him holding you tightly against his own body to prevent your attacks.

You were laughing brightly when you felt the soft presence of his lips on yours. It barely lasted a second, but it made all laughter stop.

Your confused eyes met Wooyoung’s untamed ones. He wasn’t laughing, nor did he seem embarrassed or regretful.

“Did that feel good too?” he asked. His voice was thick with implication.

You stared back at him, speechless.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t a love confession,” he said, gently pushing a strand of wet hair from your face. “This is just me saying that I know you’re going through a hard time, and that your body isn’t taking it well. You’re tired, in pain, and so sensitive…” he trailed off.

You blushed. “Woo–”

“I know it’s someone else that you want,” he continued. “But I can help you forget, even if it’s just for a little bit.”

“You don’t have to–”

“You think I get nothing out of it? You may not know this but I have a thing for sirens. I dated one, actually…but things didn’t end up well. I recently found out through Yeosang that she met someone knew,” he chuckled but his laugh sounded empty, hurt. “I should be happy for her. But I can’t bring myself to. Childish, huh?”

“It was you?!” you asked, astonished. “The friend Yeosang told me about–”

“She’s my ex,” Wooyoung confessed. “Well…if you could call that a relationship. We barely held hands or kissed. She was afraid if we…consummated, she would follow me wherever I went. That was smart of her; following a pirate around isn’t anyone’s dream life.”

“Woo…I’m so sorry,” you whispered sympathetically.

“You’re in no position to be sorry about someone else’s love life,” he laughed, earning a playful punch on the shoulder. “What I’m trying to say here is that none of us is with who we want to be, but we have each other…”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” you hesitated.

“Isn’t it tiring to have to pleasure yourself?” he taunted, caressing your waist with intent and making you shiver, suddenly very aware of the proximity and nakedness of you both. “You can’t let the man you love make you cum, and I couldn’t make the woman I loved cum…” he murmured, moving his hands skillfully to give you goosebumps. “Wouldn’t it be poetic if we cum together?”

“The mental gymnastics to get to that conclusion are out of this world,” you joked.

“Y/N,” he groaned. “We’re both lonely and horny, and we’re stuck in a lifestyle that won’t let us have a stable relationship with anyone outside this damn ship. Is it really that crazy to propose we help each other out?”

You considered it for a second. He was making sense; you couldn’t be with Chenle if you wanted to continue your current lifestyle…but Wooyoung would always be there. 

“Captain said no relationships within crew members,” you murmured, holding onto the last argument against this reckless idea.

“Captain doesn’t need to know,” he assured you, closing the distance between your lips and kissing you. You kissed him back, focusing on Wooyoung and trying to forget all about Chenle. Without knowing that you would see him sooner than expected.

“CHENLE!” Kun yelled, bursting into the depressed wolf’s room and yanking the covers away from his limp body. “YOU STUPID BOY!”

After getting over the initial shock, Chenle gave him an unamused glare. “We already established that. No need to yell,” he murmured, reaching for the cover again.

Kun took the cover from his hand and threw it on the floor. He then unclasped from around his neck a golden chain with a doubloon hanging from it and waved it in front of Chenle’s face. “Do you know what this is?” 

“No,” deadpanned Chenle.

“It’s a siren detector,” he replied proudly.

“Why do you even have one of those?” Chenle asked, still uninterested.

“I got it from my time in the navy, of course. All sailors get one for safety.”

“Pff, you were not in the navy,” Chenle scoffed.

“Yes, I was? I sent you postcards?” Kun reminded him offendedly. “Whatever, that’s not the point. The point is we went to the bar where your mate works—“

“You did WHAT?!” Chenle asked outrageously. 

“We were going to convince her to take you back,” Kun continued.

“Nooo,” Chenle groaned, mortified. “How did you even know which bar it was?”

“Jisung led the way,” Kun informed.

Chenle glared at Jisung who was standing awkwardly next to Renjun.

“Sorry,” Jisung mumbled. “Didn’t want you to be sad…”

Chenle sighed. “You should have asked me— did you steal that glass?”

Jisung looked at the glass he was holding, still half full of alcohol. “We left in a hurry and I kinda panicked.”

“As I was saying,” Kun demanded everyone’s attention. “Whenever I got near your mate the detector started burning my skin. I asked her where she was from and she named an island that is located in the Forbidden Sea, which is where you can find  the biggest population of merpeople.”

Chenle stared at him dumbly.

“You imprinted on a siren!” Kun exclaimed exasperatedly. “Well, probably a half-siren…she seems to be able to spend long periods of time on land.”

“…That’s ridiculous. I would have noticed if my mate had a fishtail.”

“I guess they don’t teach you guys anatomy in school anymore,” Kun said. “That’s a myth. Sirens look like any other human. Some historical jerk assumed they had tails because the lower part of their bodies often remained hidden under the water. They have legs just like us, and they sometimes come to land, but they need sea water to survive. My guess is Y/N gets easy access to the water by traveling with pirates.”

“But… it can’t be…”

“It makes perfect sense,” Renjun interjected. “Sirens are famous for their mind control. Think about it: isn’t it weird that you always agreed to everything she said?”

Again, Chenle glared at Jisung, who must have spilled the beans about that too.

 “I don’t know, man,” he sighed tiredly. “Maybe I’m just a simp.”

“No but—“ Jisung spoke nervously. “That night when you met her you were so out of it. All you kept saying was that you didn’t want to mark her. Isn’t that weird?”

Chenke knitted his brows. It was kind of weird. “Maybe it was the fever.”

“Just try to remember,” Renjun insisted. “Did you ever have any disagreement that ended with you saying something out of character? Something that you didn’t understand why you were saying?”

Chenle froze. Every encounter with you had ended like that. Suddenly it all made sense.

Holy fuck. He had been played.

 He groaned and pulled his hair. “So Y/N is a master manipulator. Why does it matter? She doesn’t want to see me.”

”That’s the weird part,” Kun says hurriedly. “I heard her speaking with the other bartender, saying something about not seeing her mate for a week. Your relationship,” he said that word making air quotes with his hands, “ended a week ago. So that has to be referring to you, right? That means she imprinted on you too. But if that’s really the case then she wouldn’t be able to stand being away from you after you guys slept together,” he ranted nonsensically. 

Chenle wasn’t really following. He was still trying to process that he imprinted on a siren, and now Kun was saying that you probably imprinted on him too. He didn’t even know sirens imprinted.

“Maybe sexual relationships aren’t that important for her,” Renjun said, trying to make sense of the situation. 

“Sex is a sacred ritual between siren mates,” Kun contradicted Renjun’s theory. “When a siren is brought to their climax by the one they imprinted on it’s game over. The bond is sealed for eternity. Seriously, guys, what are they teaching you in school?”

“Not how to mate with sirens, clearly,” Renjun replied sarcastically, making Jisung choke on his drink.

“Orgasms seal the bond…” Chenle mumbled, sitting up as he pieced together everything he heard. “Game over…”

“Exactly,” Kun said, excited that at least one of them was paying attention and learning from him. “But then she probably wasn’t talking about you when she mentioned a mate because she shouldn’t be able to live without you after two months of–” 

“I didn’t make her cum,” Chenle admitted.

The room was silent.

“You mean– last time you were together?” Renjun offered.

“Ever,” Chenle deadpanned.

Jisung gasped. “You never told me that!” he accused.

“Yeah, thank god, or you would have told everyone!” Chenle rolled his eyes.

“I get nervous when interrogated!” Jisung defended himself.

“Chenle!” Kun shrieked. “Are you saying that in two months of being fuckbuddies,” he stressed, “ you didn’t make her cum once?!”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Chenle replied.

“Right,” Renjun said sarcastically.

“She kept telling me that I wasn’t good enough. That I didn’t deserve to touch her!” Chenle huffed, incredulous at what he was learning. “Whenever she was about to cum she would stop me with that sickeningly sweet voice of hers–”

“The siren voice,” Kun nodded, starting to understand what was happening.

“And I would always end up doing as she said and–I don’t know I thought it was like a weird kink of hers, or that I really was that bad in bed,” Chenle groaned. 

“She was stopping you from consummating the bond,” Renjun breathed out, catching up.

“Wait what?” Jisung asked.

“She imprinted on Chenle and she knew if he made her orgasm  she would be bonding with him forever,” Kun explained. “She literally hypnotized him to make sure he never made her cum.”

“That’s a whole new level of commitment issues…” Jisung said incredulously. “And gaslighting,” he added,  not believing that someone would go that far. 

But Chenle didn’t doubt you would do all that and more to get what you wanted. You were literally insane.  

“Fucking bitch,” he grunted, getting out of bed and exiting the room.

“Where are you going?” Jisung asked.

“Where do you think?!” Chenle yelled back.

“That’s a terrible idea,” Renjun warned, running after him, followed by Jisung and Kun.

“You either wait here or you come with, but you’re not stopping me,” Chenle grunted, opening the front door and walking out of the house in his pajamas.

The three werewolves exchanged worried looks before following Chenle to his car. Kun ended up driving because Chenle’s hands were shaking with rage, and the car was barely parked near the port when Chenle sprinted toward the imposing ship. 

The bar was closed, and everyone was probably asleep, but Chenle didn’t give a damn. He was going to wake up the entire town if he had to.

But he didn’t have to, because he heard you.

It was distant and weak. You were giggling and whimpering, and at some point, he even thought he heard his name. But where–?

He almost tripped when he stepped on…pants? And there were other pieces of clothing too– Was that your top?!

“You okay?” asked an unfamiliar male voice.

“F-fine,” you croaked.

“That good, huh?” the stranger asked.

“Shut up,” you replied playfully.

The voices were getting closer and Chenle’s enhanced vision could see you swimming toward the dock…with a man. 

“It must have been good,” the man insisted. “You were so out of it that you called me a totally different name.”

“Woo,” you whined, ashamed. “I’m sorry–” 

He pecked your lips. “It’s fine,” he assured you with a smile, reaching for the wooden surface. “You’ll get it right next time–,” his sentence was interrupted when out of nowhere someone grabbed him and pulled him out of the water aggressively. 

Your eyes widened in fear when you saw Chenle, manhandling Wooyoung with murderous intent. The pirate landed on his back on the dock with a loud thud and winced, but that was only the beginning of the pain Chenle had planned for him. 

“C-chenle!” you shrieked, getting out of the water. “Chenle, stop!”

“I’ll deal with you later,” he growled at you, getting back to beating the shit out of the man who had dared to kiss you.

Desperately, you yelled at him to stop, tried to pull him away from Wooyoung, and finally screamed for help, hoping at least one of your crew members would hear you.

Luckily, Yunho came running out of the ship, closely followed by Mingi, who looked half-asleep. They quickly assessed the situation and charged in to separate the two men. San and Yeosang joined the scene right after, helping Wooyoung get up and trying to get him away from the threat.

“I’ll teach you not to touch what isn’t yours,” Chenle growled, breaking free from Yunho and Mingi’s grasp, but thankfully Kun, Renjun and a terrified Jisung stepped in, not letting him reach the poor man. 

“Leave right now or I’ll call the police,” Seongwha spoke authoritatively, standing between his crew and the werewolves.

“Call the police then!” Chenle challenged petulantly. “See if I care. One of my pack is fucking a police officer so they can’t do shit to us–” he suddenly fell on the floor completely unconscious. Behind him, there was Jongho.

“I hit a pressure point so he’ll be asleep for a bit,” Jongho explained calmly. “Not for long though, so you should get him out of here fast.”

The three werewolves nodded quickly, and mumbled a thousand apologies while they grabbed his unconscious pack member and dragged him away. 

Seungwha quickly instructed the crew to take Wooyoung inside and tend to his wounds before turning to you. “Y/N, Captain wants to see you.”

The crew turned to look at you, failing to mask the fear in their eyes. They knew that if the Captain asked you to go to his cabin, it meant you were in huge trouble.

You lowered your head and nodded obediently, grabbing your clothes and boarding the ship. You quickly dried your body and put on some clothes before walking to the Captain’s cabin with trembling legs.

“Come in,” he said before you could even knock.

The antique door opened with a quiet squeak.

Captain Hongjoong was standing by a small window while playfully tossing his spyglass from one hand to the other.

“Did you ask to see me?” you asked nervously.

“I did,” he hummed calmly. “Had fun with Wooyoung?”

Your blood ran cold. There was no way he could have found out this fast, could he?

He chuckled. “Come here, Y/N.”

You took hesitant steps toward him until you were face to face.

“Look outside” he instructed,positioning so you were looking out the window. “What do you see?”

You saw the dock where the fight had happened and if you moved a bit to the right you could see the exact spot where you and Wooyoung had been fooling around. Could he have seen–?

“Saw it all,” he purred next to your ear, answering your unvoiced question. “Can’t say I’m surprised. If someone was going to break that rule it was Wooyoung.”

“It wasn’t his fault–”

“Please,” Hongjoong laughed, sitting on a chair made out of a barrel. “You want me to believe that Wooyoung wasn’t the one who started this? I know my crew,” he said, gesturing at the chair in front of him for you to take a seat too.

“He was only trying to help,” you explained, sitting down.

“Yeah, because you broke up with rich boy, right? Maybe if you hadn’t used your siren voice on him things wouldn’t have ended like that.”

You gasped in surprise. He knew about that?! 

He gasped too, mocking you. “Told you, Y/N. I know my crew,” he informed you, changing his tone to a more serious one. “Relationships within the crew are a rule that could be bent if necessary… but I strictly forbade you from bewitching people.”

“I–I know…”

“Wooyoung and you hooked up, alright, no problem. You’re both adults. But what you did to that man,” he said pointing at the window, “was take away his autonomy for your benefit.”

You nodded slowly, ashamed. 

“I’ve been waiting to see if you would solve things on your own, but now one of my men is hurt. You did that,” he accused.

You winced. “I understand. I’ll pack my things,” you said.

Hongjoong frowned.“Why would you do that?”

“I broke the rules and I put the crew in danger. So I gotta leave, right?”

“That would be the easy way out,” he said sternly. “You can’t abandon people whenever you fail them.”

“Then what should I do?”

“Apologize.”

“I’m sorry,” you said immediately.

“Not to me. To Chenle Zhong.”

Wow. He even knew his full name.

“I ended things with him,” you explained.

“But did you apologize?”

“He’ll move on and find someone better.”

“Did.you.apologize?”

You sighed in defeat. “...No.”

“Do it,” he commanded. “In person.”

You nodded right when someone knocked on the door softly.

“Come in,” Hongjoong said.

Seongwha walked in. “Wooyoung will be fine. Only a few bruises, but no broken bones.”

“Good,” Hongjoong sighed. “Tell him he’s grounded.”

“Of course,”  Seongwha said, but shot you a worried look. “What about Y/N?”

“She has her own task to complete, isn’t that right?” he said, looking at you solemnly.

And that’s how you found yourself unblocking Chenle and texting him, asking him if you could meet. The message showed as read for hours until he finally replied setting a time and date.

He picked you up like he often did in the past, before shit hit the fan. At first you refused to get in the car.

“I’ll be quick,” you said.

“I won’t,” he countered angrily. “I have a lot to say, and you’re gonna listen. Get in.”

His voice left no room for disobedience, so you nervously got in the car. This time he drove in a totally different direction. 

“Where are we going?” you asked.

He didn’t reply. He remained silent even when the car stopped in front of a huge modern building, taking you into the elevator and, once again, pressing the button to go to the highest floor. 

You were in awe when you entered a place as luxurious as the presidential suite, but more homelike. It was a spacious penthouse, with minimum decoration, like it had been recently purchased, with enormous windows that allowed you to see the ocean.

“I’m listening,” Chenle said dryly, standing in front of the window and watching the striking view.

You stood behind him, taking a deep breath in to brace yourself. “There’s something you must know,” you started saying.

He kept his eyes on the view, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m part siren. Sirens can control people’s minds with their voices…and I did that to you.”

He clenched his jaw but remained silent, 

“Everytime you came too close I made you believe that you didn’t actually want that. I treated you like shit to keep you under control, but the truth was that I was afraid of what would happen if we went further. I’m sorry,” you finally said. 

He turned around, glaring at you. “You’re sorry? Do you think you can use and humiliate someone repeatedly and then just say you’re sorry?”

You shook your head. “I know what I did was awful. That’s why I ended things; so you can forget about me and move on.”

“That’s your way of fixing things?” He laughed humorlessly. “Imagine someone broke your leg and then they put a fucking sticker on it, telling you to forget about it. Can you go run a marathon?”

“...That’s not the same–”

“That’s what it felt like to me,” he insisted. “You broke me every time you told me I didn’t deserve you. Everytime you made me say what we had wasn’t special. You don’t get to step on me like that and then tell me to move on.”

“I’m trying to do what’s right.”

“No. You’re doing what’s easier.” 

“Chenle I–,” you sighed. “I’m leaving in three days. There’s nothing I can do for you at this point.”

He met your gaze with eyes that reflected a storm of emotions. 

“There’s something,” he said firmly. “Kiss me.”

A shiver ran down your spine. There was nothing you would like more than to kiss him. “Wouldn’t that make things worse?” you asked apprehensive.

“The person I imprinted on used me for months and is leaving in 3 days. Things can’t possibly get worse for me,” Chenle deadpanned. He stared at your lips and took one of your hands tenderly. “Can you let me have just one moment with you that feels real? Without the lies and the mind games?”

You breathed out against his lips. “O-okay…”

Chenle’s lips were on yours, slow and hot. You felt like you were floating. It had been so long since the last time you were this close to him, you had forgotten how well his lips fit into yours, how gratifying his body felt against yours, how easily he could turn you on with his fingertips barely grazing your skin.

You couldn’t remember why you turned down his touch in the past when it was clearly what you needed the most–even the body ache you had woken up with was subsiding thanks to his ministrations.

It was the little moan that escaped you what brought you back to reality by the time he had taken your shirt off and was kissing your chest while playing with the strap of your bra.

“Chenle,” you moaned when he unclasped your bra and attached his lips to your tits. “I t-think we should stop now–”

He ignored your concerns, sucking on your nipple languidly. 

“Ooh– Chenle I’m serious,” you started to panic at how dangerously good you were starting to feel. With how sensitive you were since you imprinted on him and how much you had been craving for him it wouldn’t take long for you to climax…and that’s a luxury you couldn’t afford if you were to leave with the crew in a couple of days.

“Don’t be like that,” he cooed, unbuttoning your jeans. “You hardly ever allowed me to touch you during our encounters. You can’t expect me to be satisfied with just a kiss when this could be the last time I see you.”

“T-then how about I make y-you feel good instead?” you offered nervously, trying to pull his hands away from you, but he quickly slapped your hands away.

“I don’t think so. We did things your way many times already. It’s my turn to make you cum,” he declared, pulling your pants down hastily.

“NO! WAIT!” you shrieked, grabbing his hands with all your strength.

Chenle stared into your eyes intently. “There’s that terrified expression again,” he uttered. “It’s almost like you don’t want to cum. But that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it?” he taunted. “Unless there’s something you aren’t telling me…”

You gulped.You indeed hadn’t told him you imprinted on him and what the consequences of an orgasm would be. “I…I just–That’s n-not why I came here–”

“What’s so terrifying about me making you cum, hmm?” he inquired darkly, like he already knew the answer, cornering you against the window glass. “If you don’t give me a good reason I won’t stop.”

You couldn’t tell him, because if you did then you were 100% sure he wouldn’t stop. You didn’t want to do this again, but you didn’t see any other way out right now.

“Pup, listen to me–” you spoke sweetly but he clasped his hand on your mouth firmly.

“No, you won’t,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “You apologize for bewitching me, but you try to do it again the second things don’t go as you planned?” he asked incredulously. 

You squirmed but he didn't budge.

Chenle hummed, placing his free hand on the front of your neck and tracing his fingers over your throat, drawing what felt like random figures. “What a shame. That was your last chance.” 

You gasped for air when he finally uncovered your mouth, but when you tried to speak again no words came out.

You cleared your throat and opened your mouth again, but even though you were saying words, they didn’t materialize into sounds.

You looked at Chenle in shock, and he smirked back at you.

“It’s not nice, huh? Not being able to say what you want,” he asked rhetorically.

‘What did you do?!’ you tried to ask, but of course once again nothing came out of your mouth. 

Chenle understood your voiceless question though and he chuckled. “Here goes my first confession: I found out about what you were a few days ago. I’ve been thinking of ways to stop you from using that voice on me since then. At first I thought about choking you, but I was so fucking mad at you I was afraid I would end up breaking your neck, so I learned how to cast this little spell on your vocal chords.”

Your eyes widened, remembering how you thought that he was just caressing your neck seconds ago.

“I also know you imprinted on me,” he continued speaking, caressing your face. “And I know what will happen if I make you cum so, naturally, I will make it happen.”

Your instinct kicked in and you pushed him, trying to get away as fast as you could, but he quickly caught you and turned you around, pushing you against the window glass with him hugging you from behind. You shivered when the cold material made contact with your bare chest, and the beautiful city view reminded you of how embarrassingly exposed you were.

Chenle’s hand had already found its way into your panties, and he was pleasuring you skillfully and fast, with only one objective in mind.

“Here goes my second confession: I regret not killing that friend of yours,” he whispered next to your ear, while two of his fingers were buried inside of you. “Can’t believe you let him have you like this before me. It drove me mad to find out what you sound like when you’re cumming while in another man’s arms. But what made me even more furious was that you moaned my name. How fucking shameless can you be?”

You wanted to dig a hole and hide in it forever, but first you needed to run away.

He clicked his tongue when you kicked your leg back aimlessly trying to get him off you. “You’re being so rude when I’m making you feel so good you’re dripping down my hand?” He asked, adding a third finger and making you tighten around him.

You shook your head and tried to look at him over your shoulder, giving him your best puppy eyes.

“Do you really want me to stop?” he asked, stilling his fingers inside of you.

You nodded promptly.

He sighed. “I guess I should respect your wishes just like you respected mine–Oh, right,” he pretended to suddenly remember something important. “You didn’t,” he concluded, fucking his fingers into you fast and hard.

You would have screamed if you could. You were so close and it was both marvelous and horrifying. If you gave in it would change your life forever, so you tried to even your breath and will yourself to think of something else.

“Would you look at that?” Chenle taunted. “I can see your ship from here…It’s a shame they’re too far to see how much of an obedient girl you’re being for me, taking my fingers so well, about to give yourself to me completely.”

You did not want anyone to see you like this, but you tried to remind yourself that this penthouse was on the highest floor in an exclusive neighborhood. Surely no one could see you.

“Mm…should I bite you before or after I get you off?” Chenle asked, placing a wet kiss on your neck.

You squirmed helplessly. At this point you knew you wouldn’t break free, and that your efforts were in vain, but you were too stubborn to accept your fate.

“I’m tired of waiting,” he said, abusing that spot that had you rolling your eyes while using his other hand to rub your clit roughly. “Give it to me now.”

Your ears rang and the city lights in front of you became blurry. You felt like the world was spinning around you while the tingly feeling that sometimes you experienced in your fingertips expanded through your body. 

‘Chenle, Chenle, Chenle’ was the only thought in your mind. His firm hands on your body, his warm respiration on your neck, his expensive cologne invading your nostrils, his luscious voice murmuring words you couldn’t comprehend right now–he was everywhere. The feeling was so overwhelming, unlike any orgasm any man had ever given you before. There was no way back now. You were–

“All mine,” Chenle chuckled, removing his hands from your underwear and placing one of them on your throat to remove the spell. “Was that really so bad?” he asked, turning you around to face him.

You glared at him. “Y-you–,” you coughed and spoke shakily, still riding the neverending aftershoks of your orgasm. “Do you k-know what you just d-did?!”

“I’m fully aware,” he replied nonchalantly.

“I won’t be able to leave, you asshole!” you yelled at him as tears started forming in your eyes. “You ruined my life!”

The hand that was on your neck squeezed your throat.

“Like I said, I know what I did. That’s why I did it,” he grunted. “And just for your information, I only reversed the spell to hear you moan. Not for you to get bratty and annoying, so if you try to bewitch me or yell at me one more time you won’t be speaking until the end of my rut.”

You paled. “Y-your rut?!” you choked out.

“Third confession,” Chenle whispered against your lips. “I chose this night to meet because my rut is scheduled to start anytime soon. And you’re gonna help me through it.”

You kicked his leg just out of pettiness. You knew it probably didn’t hurt much and it wouldn’t get you out of this predicament, but you didn’t know how else to voice your anger.

He gave you an unamused look. “That’s it,” he growled, lifting you in his arms and throwing you over his shoulder unceremoniously. You squirmed, kicked, and hit whatever part of him you could reach but it only seemed to add to the punishment that was coming. 

He opened the door to a bedroom, which was also surrounded by wide windows. Like the living room, it wasn’t fully furnished or decorated, but there was a king size bed in the middle and a nightstand, which was all that Chenle needed right now. 

He sat on the bed and manhandled you so you were lying on your belly on his lap, and before you had the chance to ask anything or complain you felt a sharp pain on your ass.

“You’re going to behave,” he guaranteed, landing another slap that made you gasp. “Even if I have to force you to.”

You tried to keep your mouth shut. If he had reversed the spell because he wanted to hear you moan then you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing a single sound from you.

After spanking you a couple more times he noticed what you were trying to pull.

“Really?” he asked, giving you a particularly hard smack that almost made you give in. “We’ll see about that,” he murmured.

He moved you onto the bed, removed your panties hastily and positioned you so your legs were hanging off the bed while still on your belly. You turned your head around suspiciously but you didn’t see him. You were going to sit up when you felt a pair of firm hands gripping your asscheeks and something warm and wet grazing your inner labia. 

You yelped and Chenle chuckled against your center before diving in.

It had been a long time since someone ate you out from behind; usually you were the one in charge, so being in such a compromising position was humiliating yet he was making you feel so good…

No. You couldn’t let him know you were enjoying this. You bit your lip and grasped onto the bed sheets desperately.

His tongue slid inside of you and he landed another slap on your ass, feeling you clench around the wet muscle. He pulled away for a second to say some cheeky comment, but a malicious kick almost landed on his face.

Furiously, he stood up and climbed on the bed, grabbing you as you were crawling away and forcing you to turn around to face him.

“What the fuck was that?” he growled. 

“Fuck you!” you hissed in response.

“Fucking brat,” he spat, unbuckling his belt and straddling you. “After all you’ve done you think you have the right to be angry?”

“Oh and you’re any better?” you asked indignantly. “You forced an orgasm out of me even though you knew what that implied–”

“Agreed,” he conceded, unbuttoning his pants. “We’re both terrible people and now we’re stuck together, so you might as well get used to it–”

“I may be bonded to you but you don’t own me! I’m sure Yeosang can help me find a way to undo this–Hhmp!” your ranting was interrupted by Chenle grabbing your jaw firmly and  shoving his cock in your mouth, absolutely not in the mood to listen anymore.

“Mm, yeah that’s better,” he hummed, thrusting the head of his cock in and out slowly. “Such a beautiful voice but all that comes out of your mouth is poisonous.”

You tried to complain, but the vibrations only pleased Chenle even more. 

“Yeah, go on, princess,” he encouraged you mockingly, sinking some more of his length into your mouth. 

You shot him a dirty look and hollowed your cheeks to give a hard suck, tasting the salty liquid that the tip oozed.

He moaned and his body bent in pleasure. “Oh yeah?” he sneered, pulling out slightly to thrust back in. “Do your worst, princess, fuck–”

“Hmm,” you moaned around him, stretching your lips and straining your neck to bob your head. 

Chenle felt like his head was spinning. You had pleasured him with your mouth before, but this was different. He had never had so much power over you. It made him feel euphoric. He placed his hands on your head to keep you in place, pulling your hair unintentionally. His mouth hung slack and he fucked your mouth rhythmically.

It took you choking when his cock hit the back of your throat for him to cum in your mouth with a guttural moan, trapping your head between his pelvis and the mattress until you drank every single drop.

With a jaded sigh, he climbed off your chest to start going lower, kissing every corner of your body on the way until he positioned himself with his face between your legs to continue what he had started.

You let out a broken moan when he captured your clit with his mouth and sucked insistently. 

Your legs kicked his back and you pulled his hair angrily but you couldn’t refrain from moaning, much to his delight.  He sucked, and sucked until the stimulation was painful, and almost wished he moved his mouth somewhere else but he was suctioning your clit with obsessive intent, wanting it to feel so good it hurt, wanting to break you.

He alternated between flattening his tongue against you while shaking his head and going back to harsh sucking until your stomach contorts and your mind goes blank, making your legs shake in pleasure.

…Except he doesn’t stop. 

It was the first time he had you cum in his mouth and now he was captivated. He wished you had let him do this sooner. How dare you keep this away from him all this time?! 

“Do it again,” he grumbled against your core  between sloppy licks.

“Are y-haa…are you insane?!” you whined, trying to push him away.

He looked up at you with reddened eyes and growled, slapping your inner thigh.

“I said,” he spoke roughly. “Do it again,” he commanded, getting back to work.

This time he was all over the place, licking and slurping every drop of your release and making you shriek in pleasure and embarrassment. He wouldn’t let any of it go to waste. This belonged to him. You belonged to him. And he would take it as many times as he wanted.

You trembled when he once again focused your clit, like it was his new favorite toy, and circled it with his tongue going clockwise and then counterclockwise, and then flicking it barely with the tip of his tongue.

You whined and the death grip you had on his hair to push him away ended up pushing his head closer to your center.

He moaned appreciatively and let you fuck his face until he heard you gasp brokenly, so he sucked hard, bringing you to yet another orgasm. 

Your body relaxed on the bed while he cleaned you up with his tongue languidly, making you wince and convulse sporadically. 

Once he finally licked all he could find, he climbed back up so he was face to face with you.

“I hate you,” you croaked.

“Yeah?” he purred, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “I don’t think you do…And even if you did, that’s too bad, because I’m obsessed with you,” he concluded, diving in for another kiss.

He was right, you didn’t hate him. You were just mad, and scared, but you loved his lips on yours, and the way his body rocked against yours, and his hard cock pushing against your entrance–

“Ah–haaa, fuck–Chenle!” you moaned loudly when he pushed in slowly, stretching you out delightfully. 

He swallowed your moans with his kisses, between hushed praises for taking him so well. 

“My pretty princess…” he breathed out once he bottomed up completely. He grabbed one of your thighs and pushed it up and outwards before rolling his hips experimentally. He starts very slowly, allowing you to feel every vein of his cock dragging against your inner walls and you have no words to describe how good it feels.

His eyes lit up when he hit a spot that made you arch your back, aiming to hit it harder.

“What happened to that fierce attitude?” he teased when you let out a strangled moan.

You only looked at him with wide eyes, grabbing onto his shoulders clumsily without knowing what to do with yourself. Having him inside of you after having consummated the bond made everything feel 10 times more intense. There was nothing you could possibly say to express how good it felt to have your mate’s cock kissing your cervix so divinely. 

“Poor Y/N,” Chenle spoke condescendingly, using his thumb to wipe some drool off the corner of your mouth. “Cock so good you can’t speak?”

You try to think of a comeback. You really do, but how could you when he was filling you all the way up and hitting all the right places–at the same time?

He chuckled darkly, snapping his hips hard once, twice and then building up a steady rhythm that had you screaming like he always wanted you to.

“Oh g-god…” was the first coherent sentence you said, throwing your head back.

 “That’s my princess,” he praised, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. “Submitting for her mate–haa…,” he moaned as he nosed along your neck, looking for the right spot to leave his mark.

“C-chenle–” you whined, feeling yourself getting closer the more his pelvis grinded against your clit.

He sank his teeth into your skin and you felt that white pleasure consume you again, making you cum with a silent scream and your legs shake around Chenle’s waist.

He winced when you contracted around his cock, murmuring nonsense about how tight and perfect you were for him while licking the fresh wound on your neck.

You were shaking like a leaf, whispering his name like it was the only thing you knew and he just didn’t stop.

“Fuck! P-please!” you cried out when he pressed his hips against yours harshly and moved them in a circular way before resuming his unrelenting assault. 

You didn’t think you could take any more so you tried to push him away weakly, but he pinned you down by your wrists. 

Both of you knew you weren’t actually trying to rebel anymore, but his wolf loved to show off his strength, making you submit. He had wanted to dominate you the moment he met you, but his rut had turned that want into a need. 

“C-can’t,” you sobbed, but the more you squirmed, the harder he fucked you.

“You’re g-gonna take it,” he grunted, squeezing your wrists and thrusting fast enough to make you see stars. 

Tears slid down your face but you nodded obediently and that sent Chenle into a frenzy. He let go of your wrists to grab onto your waist, sitting up and ramming into you at a speed he didn’t know he was capable of.

“Aah…Haa, fuck, Y/N–my obedient little mate, yeah…” he moaned.

You whined at the praise, letting him fuck every coherent thought out of your head.

“All you have t-to do is take it,” he spoke with slurred words as he impaled you into his cock like a ragdoll. “Let me have you like this,” he emphasized the last word with a hard thrust. “Let me m-make you feel good mm…”

You nodded dumbly while he pounded you on the bed.

“Look this pretty–oh fuck, so pretty for me,” he sounded strained, and his movements were haltering. “Let me g-give you anything you could…oooh anything y-you could possibly want,” he was getting desperate, feeling his knot starting to form was pushing him over the edge. “L-let me…,” he gulped, forcing his knot into you and making you scream. “Oooh Y/N, fuuuck–”

You couldn’t breathe. It was too much. He was too deep, and he was trying to pull you impossibly closer as his cock throbbed inside of you and he finally came with a shaky sigh, shooting endless spurts of cum inside of you.

Your eyes rolled back as he convulsed on top of you, once again pinning your wrists just for show, to remind you he was in charge.

Once both of you came down from your high, Chenle took in the view and beamed with pride. 

You were sprawled out on your back, with his mark on your neck, fucked dumb, submissive, completely overstimulated, impaled on his cock, and full of what soon would be his pups. 

This was what he would wake up to everyday, in this very apartment he had bought for both of you.

Meanwhile, on the ship, Captain Hongjoong put his spyglass down and walked away from the window, letting out an impressed whistle.

“Seongwha, make preparations for a farewell party,” he requested, sitting on his chair and putting his feet on the table. “Looks like Y/N’s staying in this town.”

“You’re so mean,” Seongwha replied, unimpressed. “You knew this would happen when you sent her to speak with him.”

“She’ll thank me one day,” Hongjoong assured him, winking playfully.

[theemporium]

Hiiiii can you do smt with Remus Lupin? Could it be a best friends to lovers thing? Also could it be smutty? Thank you sooooo much ♥️

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

“This is what friends are for, right?” 

“Yeah,” you breathed out, your shaking hands gripping the sheets beneath you in tight fists. “Friends. Exactly.” 

And maybe the word would sound a lot more convincing if it weren’t for the fact your best friend was currently between your legs, two fingers buried deep into your cunt and the bottom half of his face glistening with your release after he had been teasing you for the better part of the last hour.

It had started off as most your usual lazy days with Remus did. You were lounging around your flat in comfy clothes as you both ordered a takeaway and cracked open a bottle to share between you. You started talking and catching up and the conversation vaguely veered onto the topic of your date the other week.

You confided in your best friend that it was an utter disaster. From the fact it was a blind date set up by a coworker to the fact he had spent the solid thirty minutes you shared in bed rubbing your inner thigh and thinking he was doing something, you had taken a large gulp of wine and grumbled some comment about men disappointing you.

You expected Remus to laugh and sympathise with your misery.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to show you that not all men were, in fact, disappointing. 

“I would never treat you like that,” he had muttered as his lips trailed down the length of your neck and down the valley between your tits. “I would fuck a girl as gorgeous as you dumb, make you cry me some pretty tears.”

The tension between you and Remus was nothing new. You were close, far closer than any two best friends ever should have been. Everyone knew the feelings you harboured towards each other but the fear of losing your friendship had always stopped either one of you making a move. 

But seeing his best friend complaining about some lacklustre wizard between her legs was the last straw from Remus. 

You owned his heart for the last few years, now he was going to own your pleasure. He was going to show you that no man would ever compare to him.

“Remus, please,” you whined as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of you, watching the way you clenched around him and your hips bucked for more. He didn’t think he had ever seen a sight so pretty.

“Shhh, I’ve got you,” he murmured, his hair falling in front of his eyes as he leaned down to suck your swollen clit between his lips, groaning in delight when he heard you mewl in response. “I know what my girl wants, just gotta trust me, baby.”

“I want you,” you breathed out, one hand reaching out to push his hair back so you could see his face between your legs. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he groaned against your cunt, his free hand reaching to keep your legs spread open. “You sound so pretty begging for me.”

Your fingers tugged on his hair as he lapped at your cunt, as he licked and kissed and sucked until your legs were shaking and your eyes were glossy with tears and you were begging for him to be inside you, to feel him fucking ruin you.

You moaned against his lips when he finally slid inside you, so deep that you swore you could feel him in your throat. Your nails dug into his biceps, the only word leaving your lips between whiny breaths being his name. And Remus couldn’t help but feel smug. 

“That’s right, darling,” he groaned, his hips snapping against yours as he watched your body jolt with each thrust. One of his hands gripped your cheeks, his thumb passing your lips until you wrapped your lips around him and sucked on his digit. “My good girl, hm? Gonna lay there and look pretty whilst I fuck you silly. Gonna fuck the word friend right out of you” 

You could only whine in response.

.

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Last Minute - D.Malfoy

Summary - It was only a few days until Christmas and Draco’s girlfriend is still doing some last minute things for gifts. Draco finds her tangled up in yarn and sleep deprived in the library.

Word Count - 916

Warnings - Female reader, period mention, not sleeping, not proofread

Author’s note - Welcome to day 20!! 5 more days and then we are all done with the 25 days of fics! I know this one is later than usual but I had to work and my accelerated winter class started today so I had homework to do. I hope you enjoy!

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25 days of fics masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

not my gif

It was close to Christmas, the clock ticking closer and closer every minute. Every minute she didn’t spend working on her gifts was a minute wasted. She had been awake for over 24 hours, crocheting her gifts by hand rather than with magic. She liked the repetition of the stitches but now she wasn’t so sure about that. She found solace in the library, it was quiet, the fire was crackling, pages were turning, and the smell of old books mixed with a warm fire. It was the perfect atmosphere to get shit done.

She had completely forgotten, however, that she promised Draco that they would go to Hogsmeade together, so when she hadn’t shown, Draco looked for her. He checked her room, checked the common room, checked the great hall but came up with nothing. That was until Theo had told him she was half asleep in the library. So Draco had thanked his friend before making his way to the library, the only place he didn’t think to check. When he had walked in, he saw her on the second floor, going up the stairs only to find her asleep at the table, tangled in yarn. 

“Love, wake up. Let’s go back to the common room,” He instructed as he gently rubbed her back. She jolted awake with a gasp before grabbing Draco’s arm, twisting it painfully. “OW! It’s me! You’re boyfriend!” He shrieked, this caused Madam Pince to make her way up to the second floor and kick out the couple.

“I’m sorry, Dray. I feel terrible, are you okay?” She panicked as they were escorted out of the library after untangling her from her yarn. 

“I’m fine, love, are you? I’ve never seen you so tired,” He asked her concerned. She yawned loudly before turning to her boyfriend to answer.

“I’ve been trying to finish all of my projects for Christmas, I didn’t realize how close it actually was until I was able to sit down and start my list.”

“When was the last time you got some sleep?”

“Well I just-”

“Library doesn’t count.”

“I have no clue then, maybe after our potions exam?”

“That was 2 days ago!” Draco was surprised he hadn’t noticed his girlfriend not sleeping, now that exams were over and break was about to start, he was able to sneak her into the boys dorm more often. He was completely drained the last two days with exams and letters coming from home so he had just been putting himself to bed earlier than usual not thinking about his girl. “When we get back to my room, you are going straight to bed. You can’t go on like this, it’s not good for you.”

“I know but I need to finish this! It’s important that I finish my gifts before Christmas!” She protested but with a stern look from Draco she sighed but agreed to go right off to bed. 

As they entered his room, Theo, Blaise and Mattheo were all gathered around Theo’s bed goofing off and joking around. The three boys turned their heads as the door opened, surprised to see the state of their friend. Her under eyes were a lot darker than normal, her gait was clumsy, her hair messier than normal and her eyes were glassy and heavy. “Salazar, what happened to you?” Mattheo asked her, feigning disgust.

“Fuck off, Riddle. I haven’t slept in nearly two days, my period is coming, I’m hormonal and tired, of course I look rough,” She told the boy off, the group surprised with her attitude but brushed it off.

“Get into some comfy clothes and go to sleep, principessa. Do you want to borrow one of my sweaters?” Theo asked her sweetly.

“No thank you though Theo. I’ll steal another one of Draco’s, but I will steal a pair of pajama pants,” She smiled at her friend before heading to her boyfriend’s trunk, pulling out a warm sweater, nearly missing the pair of flannel pajama pants that were tossed her way and heading to the bathroom. She changed out of her school uniform and into the borrowed clothing, gathering her dirty clothes and headed back to the room. Her boyfriend was already laying on the bed waiting for her.

“Do you need us to go somewhere else? We can go to the common room,” Blaise offered.

“Yes-” Draco started before his girlfriend cut him off.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll probably fall asleep in a few minutes anyway. Chat away, it won’t bother me.”

Draco stuck his tongue out at the trio childishly before opening his arms to his girlfriend who just about collapsed into them. Not even a minute after she had settled herself against his side, her head resting on his chest and listening to his heartbeat, she had fallen asleep. He let out a chuckle seeing how quickly she had fallen asleep as he pulled the covers up over the two of them.

“Is she already asleep?” Mattheo asked.

“Yep, passed right out once she was comfortable,” Draco replied, fondness laced in his tone as he watched his girlfriend sleep peacefully.

“Whipped,” Theo muttered behind a cough.

“I am. But hey, at least I have a significant other, Nott,” Draco shot back, causing a roar of laughter from all of the boys in the room including Theo himself. She hadn’t even stirred at the noise, still just peacefully sleeping in the arms of her boyfriend. She was right where she wanted to be.

[writingsfromhome]

If you Love Something II

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

——————————————

Age 36:

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

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

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

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

“I can come get you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’ll be yours soon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re cutting up what?”

“Nothing! Train’s here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Being 18 is reason enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why are you reading it?”

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

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

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

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

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

He tosses the book down lightly. “Damnit!”

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

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

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

“Full class?”

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

“They won’t be there next week.”

“Nope.”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shake my head and start setting up my laptop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um ‘scuse me. Professor?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

I retell this to Harry when I get home.

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

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

“Maybe this is the guy. The One.”

“You don’t believe in that do you?”

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

“So I’m The One?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you liking uni so far?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, didn’t see that coming.

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

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

“You have any siblings?”

“An older sister yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stiffens by the door before coming to get it.

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

“Bridget,” her voice cracks.

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

“I’ve never told anyone.”

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

“Yeah. Maybe she just looks like Taylor?”

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

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

“Harry! That’s her!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t assume,” the other chides.

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

“Oops!” They laugh.

“Anyway. This is Harry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Weird right?”

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here,” I say.

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

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

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

We sit in silence for a bit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He slides the ring on and it fits perfectly.

It was perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is that?”

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

“Is it…”

“I was waiting for you.”

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

“We should read it.” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you read it?” I ask.

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

“Y/n and Harry,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hope you call.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe she has an awful digital footprint.”

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We will.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ve fucked up so much!”

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

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

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

“I love her,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

“What do we do?” I ask

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The line goes dead and so does my heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m surprised to see an old student.

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

“Hi professor-“

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

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

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

“I had a question?”

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

“What’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sociology, I’m pre-law.”

Ambitious. “Why TA for my class?”

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

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

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

“I’m okay with that.”

“Why should I pick you?”

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

“Teaching?”

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

“What are your hobbies?”

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

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

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

“Yes,” I’d seen things online.

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

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

“Really?!”

I laugh. “Yes. Really.”

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

“Sure. Anywhere I can reach you.”

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

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

“Alright?” I raise my brow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sent from iphone.

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

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

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

Age 38:

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

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

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

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

“Mm,” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I cry into his shirt and he rocks me.

“I’m sorry,” I say into his shirt.

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

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

My wounds inside stay tender.

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

Harry and I finally talk about it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

“Is everything alright?”

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

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

“Sorry. I’m-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry-“

“Don’t be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m getting married that week!”

The light dims. Or maybe I imagine it.

“Oh! I thought you were married already?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

“Y/n it’s on your way home!”

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

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

“Agh and why can’t he do tomorrow?”

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

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

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

The idea hits me at once.

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

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

“Oh no. Is everything alright?”

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

“Okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, so hectic.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My jaw drops. “Harry.”

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

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

“Yes? I panicked and googled it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I also said plus one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s alright. Happy to help out.”

An awkward silence slithers in.

“So my partner invited you to our wedding.”

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

“I’m not,” I say weakly.

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

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

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

“What is it?” I ask.

“Nothing!”

“Why do you look sad what happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, but we were never ordinary.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bridget.

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

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

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

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

“Me too what?”

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s weird. Nevermind.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Liar!”

“I’m not! Why are you asking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so-“

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you get that?” Harry asks.

“Hm?”

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

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

“Hiya,” she says with an awkward wave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was finally home. My daughter.

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

She really did look like Taylor as a baby.

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

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

I turn to him, why wasn’t he here?

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

I let go of Bridget and move back to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. It could gut someone!”

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

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

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

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

“You need to take that?” Harry asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Older sister. Seems we all have sisters.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Age 39:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” y/n says as I lay my hand on her thigh, palm up. “Y’know what they say about loving someone and letting them go.”

“I guess you did that with me,” Bridget says so quietly we almost don’t hear her. But out here in the countryside we do.

“We didn’t want to,” I remind her.

“No I know.” She smiles, it’s a bit sad. Philippe tugs her closer. I could see how much he cared for her in that small gesture. “I’m not saying it like that. I hear your story and I just imagine how different my life would have been if I was raised by my, by you two. I wouldn’t have this life. And I really like this life.”

She looks at Philippe and I feel y/n squeeze my hand. She often said they reminded her of us when we were younger; the kind of love you’d do anything for.

“But you two loved me enough to let me go. To let each other go. It’s fucking sad but it’s beautiful. Life’s weird.”

“Here here,” Y/N raises her nearly empty cup of hot cocoa. “Life’s weird, sad, beautiful, but lately my life’s been full of so much love. I wish I could sell all the excess, I think I could solve a lot of world problems with it.”

“Wow,” I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “That’s one hell of a speech.”

“I have a speech,” Philippe stands, a little tipsy, and clears his throat. Bridget rolls her eyes but they shine for him. “Bridget you’re the love of my life. Since we were 13. But Harry and Y/N, I think I love you too. Ever since we were 15, I’ve watched Bridge struggle for answers about her past. And you two have given her all the answers, welcomed her—and me actually, into your lovely life. I’ve watched her become old Bridge but even more confident. I’m falling harder for her these days. And I can’t thank you guys enough.”

“Aw Philippe come here,” y/n lets of my hand to walk around and give him a hug. How quickly strangers became family.

Bridget grumbles about being left out and joins the hug. Soon I join in too. I want to create a mold of this moment, I think as I squeeze them against me, I’d make it out of plaster and let it dry. Any time we wanted, we could always find our way back to this moment here.

Age 40:

Y/N and I watch our daughter cross the stage. Beside us are our parents and in front of us sits Bridget’s parents and her sister. She has a whole army cheering for her. This was the first milestone event we could all really show up for, and show up we did.

“I can’t believe this,” I was so proud of her. I know the kudos went to her parents, and herself, but I beam with pride. Honestly Bridget could spin in a circle in front of me and I would be a proud dad.

“We need to get photos,” mum leans over and says so seriously, as if we hadn’t planned on getting a million already.

We have a framed picture in our hall, Y/N and I on our wedding day, our daughter in between us. Her graduation photo is definitely making it. She makes fun of this wall, calls it the Styles hall of fame, and I never mention it but she always lingers a few second longer in front of the photo of the three of us.

I do too.

“It makes me so sad you won’t be so close to me anymore,” my mum tells Bridget later. We’re all piled in our flat, drinks and celebratory cake in everyone’s hands.

It reminds me of mine and y/n’s 40th birthday, we had gathered our family and friends here and it was some of their first times meeting our daughter. Today is more intimate, and focused on Bridget.

“I know it makes me sad too, but I’ll be here often, visiting Philippe.”

“Only visiting Philippe?” I raise a brow.

“Is there someone else I’m supposed to be visiting?” She mirrors my raised brow.

As Bridget’s gotten more comfortable, me and her could banter for hours if you let us, it’s one of those things that brought us closer together—having the same sense of humour. It’s allowed us to have just as deep heart-to-hearts, a handy joke always close to the surface.

Y/N always says seeing me like that, thoughtful and silly, reminds her of the boy she fell for. I can’t deny that I’ve been feeling closer to my 20 year old self than my 40 year old self lately.

“She’s too cheeky,” Bridget’s mum says. “But I have to say I’ll be glad to have her back.”

Lou, Bridget’s sister, was moving to Wales. Apparently she wanted to know more about her background, and take a trip with her bio mum to visit her bio dad.

I think Bridget was moving back to Coventry to keep her parents’ loneliness away; she said she would commute to Birmingham for school. Even though she got accepted into law schools in London, going to a uni close to her parents just showed me how close she was to her parents. It was a bittersweet feeling.

“I’ll have somebody to watch cricket with again,” her dad says.

“Ohh,” Bridget throws her sister a side-eye. “I love cricket…”

We all laugh at her complete lack of concealing her true feelings.

Later that night, it’s just Bridget’s parents and us. The kids are on the balcony talking.

“I know we’ve said it before,” I say after a long silence. We’d just been watching the kids talk and laugh outside. “But I want to say thank you again.”

Bridget’s dad shakes his head. “It was the greatest pleasure of our lives getting to raise those two girls.”

He looks over at his wife and they smile at one another. Seeing them interact, I’m grateful that somehow fate had led us to them. While Y/N and I were figuring life out, while I fucked up a lot of things, she was raised on a steady and stable foundation.

“She’s incredible,” I murmur. “She’s gonna be a lawyer. She’s going to change the world.”

“She sure will,” her mum says. “We should be thanking you two. For giving us Bridget. I know it wasn’t easy, you told me you thought about her nearly every day. But we can’t imagine our lives without her.”

We sit in a comfortable silence, looking out at the kids until they notice and start to ask questions through the glass.

“She’s happier,” her mum says smiling at Bridget and Lou exaggerating their words through the glass. “She stopped being like this before she left for uni. We thought we lost her but…I think everything worked out for the best.”

Y/N glances at me. Her eyes crinkle when she finds me looking at her first, her eyes steady me as she says what I was thinking, “I think so too.”

Age 45

Your pov: “When did she say she would be here?”

“6?” Harry says for the tenth time.

“It’s 6:20 do you think something happened? She hasn’t texted has she?”

“My love,” Harry puts down the cutlery he was arranging on the table and holds my face in his hands. “They’re driving from Coventry, they probably hit some traffic.”

“Maybe I should call her?”

Harry sighs and squishes my face.

“Don’t! You’ll make more wrinkles.” I warn.

“I love your wrinkles,” Harry kisses my forehead right where the pesky wrinkles had been growing deeper over the last few years despite the additions to my night routine.

Harry always said our wrinkles were just the stories of our lives showing through. I told him to get himself undereye cream.

“You don’t think I’m aging handsomely?” He strokes the moustache he started growing last year. At this age, even I couldn’t deny it made him even more attractive.

“Well it’s no good if you’re ageing handsomely and I age like a troll.”

“I will love you if you age into a troll.”

“But will you love me if I turn into a worm?”

“Do you even have to ask? I’d buy you the best soil and keep you in a beautiful pot.”

“You wouldn’t take me fishing?” I ask. He sighs. Last year while we were taking a trip up north for Lou’s wedding, we’d gotten into a fight and when I asked him the question while he was still stewing he said he’d take me fishing. It had, ironically, broken the iciness of his anger and we’d laughed about it so hard he’d nearly had to pull over.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” he wraps me into his chest nearly suffocating me.

I’d spent half my life with a lot of difficulties, but life now felt easy compared to it. I had the privilege of getting older with the man I adored, got to watch my daughter flourish as an adult and a lawyer, watch her get married to the love of her life, and all the while live comfortably in the heart of this city I called home.

When Bruno starts barking though, I gasp and push myself off of Harry, “that’s them!”

Bruno continues to bark as I rush to the door. We’d got him a couple years ago as a pup and I can’t believe it had taken us that long to get a dog. He filled our lives with laughter and long walks. We loved him.

“Down.” I say to him. I open the door and hold my hands out while Bruno runs in circles beside me.

“Ahhh sorry we’re late!” Bridget steps into my hug and I tug Philippe’s hood so he can join. Bruno goes for Philippe when they walk in, he’d gotten obsessed with him after Philippe took care of him while Harry and I took an anniversary trip last year.

“Where are my hellos!?” Bridget says to Bruno and he barks, standing on his back legs to paw at her leg.

I hadn’t seen the two of them since March, that was 6 months ago. It had been their wedding, and they’d gone on a month long honeymoon after that, after which Harry and I had taken time off to road trip around Europe with Bruno, and then time had just zipped by.

After a hearty dinner, Harry and I carry out the birthday cake we’d been hiding.

“You didn’t have to do this!” Bridget fans her face but we treat it like we do any special occasion, plus making up for all the ones we’d missed. We get photos and exchange presents, she cries reading the cards and the whole time she says she had a present for us.

It’s a small bag, Harry and I guess that it was something for Bruno but when we take out a box it doesn’t sound like much when we shake it.

“Is this a prank gift? There’s nothing in it?” Harry asks.

“Open it!” He was making me antsy.

“You open it,” he hands me the box. Bridget and Philippe stare intently at my hands.

I undo the bow and slowly open the box. There’s a small square of tissue paper, and then a piece of paper. I remove both but something catches my eye.

I flip the paper over and stop breathing.

“Is that-“ Harry stops talking too. We stare at the piece of paper in our hands. It looks so much like one I had held 28 years ago. But it’s not.

“Bridge,” I look up at the couple. The parents-to-be.

“We’re having a baby,” Bridget says. Philippe and her are gripping hands and I throw everything off of me to launch myself at her.

“A baby!” I hear Harry say and joining us. “You’re having a baby! Y/n!”

“I never thought we’d be grandparents,” I look up at Harry.

“Those wrinkles were coming in for a reason,” he teases.

We never did have any other kids. Quite frankly, neither of us wanted any. When we first got together we were just starting to get comfortable with the reminder that we had a daughter out there and we could talk about her freely with each other. It felt like having a third person in our little family.

After Harry proposed, while we planned our wedding, we talked about it but we never thought it felt right. We both had first marriages where a lack of conceiving had just put a strain on the relationship we didn’t think we needed. We’d also felt like it was betraying something, before we met our first child.

When Bridget did reach out, it became about catching up on lost time. And then with her in our lives we knew what we suspected all along. We had each other, and that was enough. Bridge was our bonus. And getting to be aunt and uncle to our nieces and nephews it was enough. It was a full enough life.

We never even dreamed in our 20s we’d get to be parents and now we would get to be grandparents! I never realized until this moment that I wanted this. Really wanted it.

“Do you know the gender?” Harry asks.

“No,” Philippe answers. “We were thinking of doing one of those reveal parties? But not for a couple months.”

“Wow,” my hands drift down to Bridget’s belly and I remember I had something. I leap away from the group and find the box in my closet, it’s painted pink with random collages from old magazines. It hosts old diaries, photos, a hospital bracelet, and an ultrasound.

“This was you once,” I show her the picture when I get back. “I carried you like that once upon a time.”

She takes it with teary eyes, holding it close to her face to make out the shape of her. She hands it to Philippe and grabs my hands.

“I’ve thought about it before, but when I got pregnant I couldn’t wait to tell you-“

“She kept telling me I had to make a trip out to London just so she could give you the news.” Philippe interrupts, eyes scanning the ultrasound still.

“No really,” Bridget laughs. “I did. It’s like I got this new perspective.”

She puts my hands on her belly and covers mine with hers. I feel everything at once then, all the heartbreak I ever went through to get here.

“I can’t imagine giving this baby up. And it’s barely 3 months. What you were willing to do to give me a better life-“

She breaks off and Philippe squeezes her shoulder. I watch my daughter try to gain control of her emotions. I remember when I was pregnant with her, anything would set me off.

“It must not have been easy. After carrying me like this for 9 whole months. Thank you-“ she looks up to where Harry’s standing. I barely register his hand on my shoulder. “Thank you as my mum and dad, for making the hardest decision I can imagine ever making, so I could have something you knew you couldn’t provide.”

I reel my tears in, save them for later that night in bed while Harry holds me tight against him.

Right now I kiss my daughter and tell her what a good mother she will make. I tell her and Philippe how proud I was of them, how excited, how wonderful this was.

Age 46

The day we meet our granddaughter is seared into my brain. We get the call at 8:35pm, Harry and I were staying in a B&B in Coventry despite Bridget’s mum insisting we stay with her. We’d been here all weekend, booked it all week, not wanting to miss Bridget’s delivery date.

“Y/N she’s here,” her mum whispers into the phone. Her voice is filled with joy and giddiness. “She’s here.”

“We’re coming,” I say. Harry’s already at the door and we rush out into the night to see our granddaughter.

She has the perfect little face, and when she finally wakes up I gasp when I see Harry’s eyes looking back at me. I turn to him, to see if he noticed, but he’s teary-eyed and gazing at the baby in awe. I soak it in for a second, imagining this exact look if we’d kept our baby so many years ago.

Bridget’s parents had given us the room, to give us a moment alone, and I can’t be more grateful. Bridget encourages us to hold her and as her soft body is pressed into my body I let out a sob and hand her over to Harry. I excuse myself and step outside the room.

Lou’s kids sit on the floor outside, playing with whatever toys are spilling out of a miniature backpack. I focus on the flashy colours, trying to calm down, counting the number of toys falling out.

My life was a 180 from 10 years ago. This moment would go down in our history books as one of the best days of our lives.

But I can’t deny the bittersweet. The experience threatens to push me into the bitter past of not even getting to hold Baby Bridget. But with it comes an undeniable sweetness of getting to experience this now.

I take a deep breath and walk back in. Harry and Bridget stop mid-sentence and turn to me. Bridget’s face is streaked with tears, Harry’s looks concerned but I smile. He sits with the pink bundle to his chest and I ache.

“Don’t look so obvious you were talking about me,” I try a joke.

“Are you alright?” Bridget asks.

“May I hold her?” I ask in return.

I sit on the edge of the bed and she’s placed in my arms; she’s perfect. Just as perfect as Bridget must have been.

“She’s got Philippe’s hair,” I gently stroke the wispy blonde strands.

“She’s got my eyes, her grandpa’s eyes.”

I look at Harry. And he catches the stricken look on my face when Bridget tips forward and whispers to her baby.

“Look baby, this is your mumma’s mum, and your mumma’s dad. You’ve got his beautiful eyes. Say hi to grandma!”

My throat tightens. “Bridge.”

She leans away, her eyes dart between us. “I know I call you Y/N and Harry. It made it easier at first but…you are my mum and dad. Even though I have another pair. You are my mum and dad. And I want her to know you like that.”

“Oh love,” Harry leans down and kisses the top of our daughter’s head. She keeps her green eyes trained on me, grasping my hand that’s wrapped under her baby’s.

I mouth a thank you, my voice couldn’t pass through the block in my throat. She squeezes my hand and it sets the baby off. Remembering when my nephews were this young, I just hand her back to Bridget knowing she only wanted her mum.

Harry and I stay in the waiting room. We couldn’t go home, even though we had spent our allotted time we had inside the room, we stay there.

We watch Lou’s kids as Bridget’s family gathers in her room. We stay as they fall asleep, draped over us. I remember when Taylor’s kids were this small, they would fall asleep anywhere.

We talk in whispers, I don’t remember what about exactly. Mostly how excited we were. How there was so much to look forward to. How different our lives looked a decade ago.

“One day we’ll tell our grandkids,” I remember Harry saying. “We’ll tell them all about us, how we met, how our love burned so bright it shone in the sky. We lost each other but our love was always there to guide us back home.”

“We’ll see them grow up, all the memories we missed.”

“We’ll change diapers.”

“We’ll change diapers,” I giggle, half-delirious by the lack of sleep. It was probably 2am and I was tired.

When I gaze up at Harry I remember him holding our granddaughter. I replace her with Bridget. For a minute I allow myself to imagine how that would have been.

“I think you would have made an amazing mum if we did things differently,” Harry whispers into my hair.

“You too.” I whisper back.

“An amazing mum? You think?” The edge of his lips tug upwards.

“Harry,” I warn. We had kids sleeping on us we were trying not to wake.

“I love you.” He says in response. “To the stars and back.”

On our drive home I can’t stop looking at him. I always wondered how it would be like to grow old with someone; when I was younger and watch my own parents celebrate anniversaries. And then when I was older and my first marriage was so rocky.

But thinking about it now is like a simple mathematical equation. You take two lives, two individuals, and you bracket them in love. You add an exponent—the decision to continue choosing each other. And you get a lifelong commitment. No matter the situation, no matter the challenges or the changes, you choose to choose each other.

His side profile lights up by an oncoming car. For a second he’s the same boy I feel in love with, a few more gray hairs, a few more wrinkles, and a moustache. But he’d always be the boy I followed out to the roof, who held my hand in our high school hallway, the one who turned an I into a we when I got pregnant, I see the man I had coffee with after a run-in at the Whole Foods, I see the broken heart from a harsh life sitting on the steps of a church, I see a bookworm, I see a father, a husband, and now a grandfather. I see the one person who knows me like the back of his hand. The one I am home with always.

“What is it?” Harry asks as we pull into our b&b. “Have you been asleep this whole ride or have you been staring at me?”

“Staring at you?” I ask. “You think I was staring at you the whole ride?”

“Well you were really silent. And facing me

“I was thinking.”

“About me?”

“Why are you so desparate!? Do I not show you enough love regularly?”

“I could always use more,” Harry looks half asleep as we reach our door.

“The people are right: you give someone a hand and watch as they take the whole arm,” I tease.

“When you gave me your hand, I made you a wife.” Harry retorts.

“Ooh,” I poke him. “I have to say that’s a good comeback for being half-asleep.”

Harry grins back. “You keep me sharp.”

“And you keep me happy. Now open the door so I can stop freezing out here!”

We walk into the warmth of our b&b.

For so much of our lives, our past decisions haunted us. We let so much go. Now life was repaying us, returning it all back, with interest.

***

In a small b&b in the middle of a town called Coventry, two lovers crawl into bed. They’d just become grandparents and they carry an exhausted buzz about them as they try to fall asleep. They’re both thinking of the other, of their daughter, of the tiny bundle they held in their arms today.

Some 20 minutes away their daughter lays in a hospital bed, an exhausted buzz putting her to sleep. She dreams of her mother who gave her up, how she had found her parents in the end, and dreams about the kind of mother she’ll be.

A few doors down lay her newborn daughter, she doesn’t dream of much, not yet, but she’s in for a lifetime of love.

Most of life is what we made it. Y/N and Harry loved deeply enough to make it.

———————————————

TAGLIST: @quinnwritezz @unknownnbihh @dilfhrrys @umadirectioner @hermionelove @anonymous-91 @meganxfddf

[writing-blog-iguess]

Online Matchup 8

Summery: It’s Halloween and y/n’s hosting a party that she doesn’t even want. But not to fear, Jason’s there with an escape plan.

Warning: mistakes, alcohol, tipsy!reader, tired Jason, Ellie’s done with her siblings bullshit.

A/N: So sorry for the wait. I got overwhelmed with how many wips I have and stopped writing for a bit, and it doesn’t help that I don’t have internet. So, that’s fun. Hope you enjoy though! Chapter nine should be on its way soon.

Feedback is welcomed!

ao3

Series master list

——————

October 31

Ellie (7:30 am)

YOU WENT TO A GALA

WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND

AND DIDN’T TELL ME

Y/N

Not my boyfriend

Shouldn’t you be in school?

Ellie

Not yet anyways

Don’t worry about it

So?

Y/N

It was two days ago, Ellie

It was a last minute decision

Didn’t really have time to tell you anything

Ellie

Could have told me after

Or yesterday

But no, I find out from Conner who found out from Clark

Y/N

Who?

Ellie

Clark Kent

Conner’s uncle

Also Bruce Wayne’s best friend but I have doubts

Y/N

How? You’ve never met Bruce

Ellie

True, but the stories Conner told me about

Anyways, we’re not talking about that

We’re talking about you and going out with Jason

Looking all fancy and rubbing elbows with the rich

Y/N

Ew

Did you have to word it like that?

Ellie

Did you meet his family?

Y/N

…

Ellie

YOU DID

Tell me, are they as intimidating as Conner makes them out to be?

Y/N

They’re all dorks and you would fit right in

Trust me

They’re very curious and protective of Jason

But they’re good people

I like them

Ellie

Don’t let Jason hear you say that

Or he might think you’ll leave him

Y/N

Ellie, what the fuck

Ellie

That wasn’t me I swear

Y/N

Fuck off conner

If you want to talk to me use your own phone

Ellie

This is the type of relationship you two have, isn't it?

Y/N

You’ll have no peace, sorry

Ellie

Damn

So, how'd it go?

Y/N

Fine

His brothers hounded me with questions

Bruce made a speech about jason

And then we left to get some burgers

Ellie

You’re the worst at telling stories

Y/N

I don’t know what you want me to say

Ellie

You’re feelings about how in love you are with Jason

Y/N

I’m not having this conversation with Conner reading over your shoulder

Ellie

Boo you’re no fun

Y/N

Suck it Ellie

Jason (1:39 pm)

How’s it going today?

Y/N

I am not the biggest fan of Halloween

I’ve had three different people scare me today on campus

Tripped over some decorations

And my friend is bugging me for a key so she can decorate my apartment once her last class is finished

I don’t know why she needs my key, she has her own

Jason

Yikes

Y/N

Yikes doesn’t even cover half of it

I’m half tempted to hide in the library and not go to the party

Jason

But it’s your apartment

Y/n

That’s the worst thing!

I shouldn’t have agreed to throwing it there

I want sleep

Jason

I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep at a normal time

Y/N

You’re one to talk

You’re up at the oddest hours

I’m not surprised anymore when you text me at like 2 in the morning

Jason

Fair

You can always come sleep with me when you’ve had enough

Y/n

Sir, I’m not that kind of person

Jason

That is not what I meant

You know that

Y/n

Do I though?

Jason

Y/n I swear to god

Y/n

They’re your words, Jason

Do better

Jason

Sometimes, I hate

Y/n

No you don’t

Jason

No I don’t

What I mean is, you can always stay the night at my place.

To sleep, can even have the couch since that’s were you sleep most of the time

Y/n

I want to be offended

But your right

Jason

Aren’t I always?

Y/n

No

With the party in full swing, and friends practically drunk, you hadn’t had the chance to look at your phone.

Now hiding in your room a few hours later, you grabbed it and went through your notifications. Nothing too important until you said Jason’s text asking to call you. But it was sent at five, and you were pretty sure he meant then instead of now.

But curiosity got the better of you, and you called.

“Hey Jason,” Barbara’s voice cut through the line, distracting Jason a little. He grunted in reply, and retreated behind the dumpster. “Someone named Y/N is calling. What do you want me to do?”

“Put it through,” Jason answered, looking around the dumpster to see how many were left. Three were left, shouldn’t be a problem.

“Are you sure?”

“It’ll be fine,” he said and Barbara hummed before connecting the call. “Hey Little Bird. What’s up?”

“I don’t know, you were the one who wanted me to call you,” you answered. Jason furrowed his eyebrows.

“I don’t think so,” he said, moving to shoot the one standing up. He winced at the sound and hoped you didn’t hear it.

“Mm, pretty sure you did,” you said, and he heard movement from your end. As if you moved the one on away from your face. “Yeah, seven-forty you said call me.”

“That was four hours ago,” he reminded, and smiled when you laughed.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy with a party and all,” you said and he can picture you shrugging. “This a bad time?”

He took a moment to answer as he ducked down when the other two started shooting. “Uh, don’t know.”

“Is that…is someone shooting at you?” you asked and he grimaced at the question. So much for keeping you out of this. “Jason, are you okay?”

“No, there’s no shooting. And I’m fine,” he grunted out, letting out a noise when he felt something hit his shoulder. When did he move? He faintly heard you saying something, but wasn’t quite sure. Ducking behind something else, he took a deep breath before saying, “you don’t do parties.”

“No, I don’t,” you agreed, “but, as I said, my friend is hosting the Halloween party at my place tonight.”

“It’s Halloween?” he found himself asking.

“It is. Jason, are you sure you're okay?” you asked, concern dripping in your voice.

“Peachy,” he said, staying down as the other two started shooting him. Where was the backup when you needed it? “So, how’s the party anyways? Sounds like you're having fun.”

He heard you sniff and could picture you sticking your nose in the air. “I am not having fun,” you said dryly.

“You sure? You sound drunk,” he said and laughed when you squawked.

“I don't get drunk.” Jason hummed and let the silence stretch out before you begrudgingly added, “okay. Maybe maybe I’m a little drunk.”

“Thought so,” he said, “just go to bed.”

“I can’t,” you grumble, and Jason can picture you looking at your bed longingly.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Jason, there’s a full blown party out there and I can’t sleep knowing people are trying to get in my room for a hookup.”

“Tell me you locked the doors.”

“I’m not an idiot, Jason. But that doesn’t stop them from trying to get in. Four tries since I called, and each time I tell them that the room is busy.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“Okay yeah, but I want to sleep. I’m tired.”

“If you give me twenty minutes I’ll come by to pick you up.”

“Mm, tempting. But I’m also tempted to sneak out and go to the cafe where we first met.”

“You’re not leaving the apartment alone this late at night.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“I sure as hell can try.”

“I don’t see how, given that you’re probably across town.”

“I swear to god.”

You could have sworn you heard someone laughing, but in your drunken state you weren’t sure. “Well, I mean I could make you swear for a different purpose.”

There was a choking noise coming from Jason and you smiled. “Who knew you were a flirty drunk.”

“Not drunk, tipsy,” you reminded, and slowly opened your window, hoping Jason couldn’t hear it.

“Same thing in my books,” he said. You swore when the window creaked and stilled. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you said a little too quickly.

“That sounded like a window opening,” Jason claimed, “please tell me you aren’t escaping through the window.”

“How do you know what a window opening sounds like?”

“Really? That’s your takeaway from this?”

“I mean, it’s not everyday you learn that someone knows what a window sounds like when someone opens it.”

“Did you open the window?” Jason asked, and you stayed quiet but it was an answer all the same. “Why?”

“Well I mean, there’s a fire escape like right there,” you defended, holding your phone between your cheek and shoulder. With both hands, you pushed open the window. “Ha!”

“Y/N,” Jason sighed out and you could picture him pinching his nose. Kind of like a dad when he sees his child do something stupid and questioning why they are like this. You wonder if that’s what he’s thinking about you, but you don’t care too much about that right now. “If you're going to do something like this, then keep me on the phone.”

“But won’t I disturb your family movie night?” you ask as you giggle the window screen off and slide it into your room. Once placed on the ground, you grab your keys and wallet before climbing through the window.

“I’m not watching a movie,” Jason said, confused.

“But I heard gunshots,” you reminded him, “it sounded like some western film.”

“Oh,” he said like he had forgotten. You paused on the steps, and looked up in concern when he didn’t say anything else.

“So you were getting shot at,” you questioned. Jason made a noise and you continued down the fire escape.

“No, no one was shooting at me,” Jason said, “brothers were playing a game, guess it was too loud.” You hummed as you concentrated on walking down the steps. “So, did you escape?”

“Do you want me to answer that truthfully?”

“You are, aren’t you?” Jason asked, sighing deeply.

“It’s a lot sturdier than you’d expect.”

“You say that like you’ve done this multiple times.”

“I like to sit outside sometimes,” you defended, “and sometimes I am too tired to go to the roof.”

“Why not just open a window?”

“Not the same,” you replied and kept going down the stairs.

“There’s no stopping you, huh?” Jason voiced and you kept quiet. “Just keep me on the phone while you're out at least.”

“I can do that…as long as my phone doesn’t die.”

“Do you ever charge your phone?”

“…yes.”

“I don’t believe you,” Jason teased, and you stuck out your tongue even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ll meet you at the cafe as soon as I can.”

“Might want to hurry, I think I’m going to sleep there if they let me.”

“I have no doubt,” Jason said, laughing.

“Your confidence in me is astounding.”

Your phone ended up dying halfway to the cafe, and Jason wasn’t going to let you live it down. No matter, you were almost there Jason was sure of it.

Quickly tying up the thugs he’s been dealing with while on the phone with you, Jason sent a message to Barbara before leaving.

“What? Done already?” Her basics filtered through the earpiece, surprised. “You’re never done this early. Got a date or something?”

“Or something,” he answered, starting his bike.

“Oh, come Jason!” Barbara exclaimed, “everyone else practically met them. It’s only fair that I know more. I did help you with your dating profile,” she reminded him.

Jason groaned and hung his head in defeat. “Fine! Fine,” he sighed out, ignoring the cheering in his ear. “Yes, I’m going to meet up with them after I’ve changed.”

“But I thought you were going to be out all night,” she said, “given that Y/n’s busy too.”

“Yeah, well. Plans change.”

“Are they okay?”

“Just a little tipsy and isn’t much for party’s. They just left for a cafe near town. Even though they didn’t listen when I told them not to and to wait for me. They insisted they go. So I told them I’d meet them there. Happy?”

“Extremely,” she sang, “and I’ll be even more happy when I get to meet them.”

“I will bring it up. Promise.”

“So, what was it? The motorcycle picture or the puppy that did it for the ?” Barbara teased, and Jason rolled his eyes.

“No idea, but feel free to ask when you two finally meet.”

“I have every intention to and share some stories of my own,” Barbara said and laughed as Jason groaned.

“Oh no.”

“Have fun,” she sang before signing off. Jason shook his head, and rode off back to his apartment.

A short while later, after he dropped by his apartment, he made his way to the cafe.

Parking his bike near the entrance of the building, he got off and looked through the window to see if he could spot you. He didn’t, and frowned hoping you made it safe.

Taking his helmet off, he made his way inside.

“Was wondering when you’d show up,” one of the barista’s called when he walked in.

“Traffic,” he explained, looking around. “Is Y/N here?”

He heard a sigh, and a thump from behind the counter. He turned his head to see a barista when her head was on the counter. “You okay?”

“Don’t mind her,” her coworker answered, waving his hand. “She’s just had to sit and listen to Y/N complain about school and how you were taking so long.”

“Right,” he hummed and looked towards the talk he was directed at. And there you were, head down using your arms as a pillow.

“She’s so tired it’s unreal,” May, after a quick look at her nag tag, groaned. “I can’t wait for Christmas break. That way, they can take a fucking break and sleep he break away. Between school and working, it feels like they don’t sleep.”

Jason hummed and made his way towards your table. “Hey,” he whispered once he reached you and gently placed a hand on your head. You stirred, barely lifted your head up. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“But there’s still a party there,” you groaned out, nuzzling further into your arms. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Okay. Counter offer, come to my place. Sleep there, it looks like you need it.”

That had gotten your attention as you lifted your head to glare at him. “Sir, you know just what to say to sweep a girl off their feet.”

Jason laughed and helped you up. “Come on, you’ll feel better once you get some sleep. Promise.”

“Mm,” you hummed, clutching his hand as you followed him outside, waving at the two friends as you passed by. “Bike?”

“What else?”

“It’s cold out,” you pointed out, sticking your tongue out as he set the helmet onto your head.

“Yeah, it keeps you awake though.”

“But it’s cold.”

“Why didn’t you bring your jacket?”

“It was not in the room when I made my escape,” you said, watching as he climbed onto the bike. You followed once he sat, and snaked your arms around his waist, settling your chin on his shoulder.

“You make it sound like you were held against your will,” he said, chuckling when you made a noise, stating that you practically were. “Alright, hold on tight.” That was your last warning, before he started the bike and took off.

You watched the city lights as Jason drove, in awe. You found, since moving to Gotham, that Gotham nights were much more pretty and peaceful then Metropolis. Granted, It wasn’t really safe with all the fighting and toxic gas’s being dispelled by the villain of the week. But it had its charm you fell in love with.

You shivered slightly as the cold air blew past you and felt Jason pick up the speed a little. You couldn’t help but smile at the tiny gesture. He was right though, the cold air does keep you awake.

Watching the lights whiz by, letting your mind wonder. Mat wasn’t kidding when she said you don’t sleep. Between classes, work and your personal projects, you’ve kind of neglected sleep in order to focus on everything else.

Sure, you get a couple hours of sleep, and naps. But it isn’t enough and it’s starting to take its toll on you. Sighing deeply, you tightened your grip and closed your eyes. Christmas break couldn’t come sooner.

You felt the bike slow, causing you to open your eyes. You waited until he parked and shut it off before climbing off. “That was thrilling,” you mumble out through a yawn.

“Would you like another ride?” Jason asked, helping you take off the helmet.

“Definitely,” you answered with a nod, “though maybe when it’s warmer and I’m not prone to fall off your bike due to sleep deprivation.”

Jason laughed, and tugged you into the building. “That’s fair. Now, let’s get you something to drink and eat before getting you to bed.”

“Sounds nice,” you said sleepily. “Is your couch comfy? I feel like it might not be.”

“Now that’s just mean,” he said, stopping short in front of his door. You nearly bumped into him and groaned out his name. “Sorry, but you might need to stay out here for a bit.”

“Did you leave your dirty laundry out or something?” you asked, rubbing your nose. You stepped back all the same instead of pushing it.

“Something like that,” he answered and you watched him unlock the door and stepped in. He closed it quickly, not giving you a chance to look inside. You shrugged and looked around the dimly lit hallway before turning to lean your back on the wall beside the door.

You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back against the wall with a small thump. It was strange, being at Jason’s apartment for the first time. And to sleep instead of being awake and hanging out. But you were giddy all the same.

Yes, you trusted Jason not to do anything with you. And you liked him enough to be okay with sleeping over at his place. It’s not the first time you’ve slept in the same place. And just remembering how warm you felt with Jason’s arms around you sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Alright, it’s safe to come in,” Jason’s sudden voice beside you made you jump slightly. “Sorry. Didn’t realize you were sleeping.”

“Not sleeping,” you said, pushing him back in as you walked through the door. “Just resting my eyes.”

Jason hummed and put his hands on your shoulder and steered you into the kitchen. He gently made you sit, before setting a cup of water and a plate of toast in front of you. “Slowly. The. You can have a shower and change out of…whatever costume you have on.”

“You’re an angel.”

“Some would say I’m not.”

“Then they can fight me,” you said, taking a bite out. “And how dare you. Not recognizing the greatest hero of all.”

Jason looked you over slowly, and you tried not to flush. “Yeah, I'm still not getting it.”

“Wonder Women,” you said through another bite of toast. “Sure, it’s not the greatest costume. But it’s the thought that counts.”

“Would you like a change of clothes? I doubt it would be comfy to sleep in.”

“If you don’t mind,” you said with a smile. “I would appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he said, kissing the top of your head before leaving the room. You flushed slightly and finished the rest of your food. It felt all so normal, like you did this everyday. And that thought made you giddy.

“Okay, the sweatpants might be a little big and so is the shirt. But they should be fine.”

“Thanks Jason. That means a lot,” you said, getting up to hug him. He returned it with a smile and shooed you into the bathroom.

Once showered and dressed, you walked out of the bathroom feeling refreshed. “Jason?”

“In here,” he called and you followed the voice until you reached the bedroom. “This is your room for the night.”

“I thought I was taking the couch,” you question, leaning against the doorframe, watching as he was getting it ready.

Jason snorted and gave you a look. “Please, I would never do that to you. Besides, it’s not as comfortable as the bed.”

“So you’re going to take the couch?” Jason nodded, and you bit your lip in thought. And before you could change your mind, you bit out, “or, now hear me out. We could share the bed. It’s not like it’s happened before.” You're blaming the alcohol for it, and you can't regret it.

Jason looked up at you with raised eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “I’m sure. We’re just sleeping right? The worst that can happen is cuddling in the middle of the night.”

“Okay,” he laughed and with that, the two of you climbed into bed. You were more tired than you thought, you fell asleep the minute your head hit the pillow.

For Jason, it took a lot longer for sleep to reach him. He turned over, and looked at you for a moment before slipping his arm underneath you. With his other, he wrapped it around your waist and pulled you closer. And only then he could fall asleep, but not with the thought of how dangerous this could be.

But he found that he didn’t care.

[cts-ryu-writing-desk]

Melissa is Overdue

This was a little piece I thought up on a whim. A Pregnancy that went well overdue. Anyway this was pretty fun to work on.

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~

Melissa was just an average woman living in a small town. One day in the fall, she discovered that she was pregnant. Melissa at first was rather reluctant to discover this, as she was now all alone. Of course, it would happen after her boyfriend left her with his blonde whore of a waitress from the local diner. She was heavily contemplating aborting the baby. But eventually changed her mind. The reason she never divulged to anyone.

Melissa was already a rather plump lady to begin with and as the pregnancy progressed she wasn’t exactly overjoyed about it. She was hoping for more of the easy-to-manage symptoms with her pregnancy, like tiredness, and some morning sickness.

What she learned is that it is more of a roulette wheel, and what she got was a sensitivity to smells, wild and erratic mood swings, and incredibly tender breasts. At least when she discovered she was having a baby boy. If she was going to have one at least she wanted it to be “easy” as she’d put it. 

Weeks turned to months, and Melissa's baby grew bigger and bigger. Her plump tum rounded out into a fully-fledged baby bump by the time she reached six months. As her pregnancy developed into more of the later stages she talked with her doctor about her plan. “I want a water birth, I’ve already been in talks with a few different midwives,” she told her nurse

“I can see you’ve set your sights on it,” the nurse replied

“I have,” She told her doctor confidently

One thing that she absolutely did not want was to be cut open in any regard. She knew tearing might happen and resigned herself to that. But did not want to be cut open surgically if she didn’t need to. Something she voiced with extreme prejudice to her doctor, Gregory Lipshcitz, many times over several appointments.

“I just wanna make sure that you have a backup plan should something go wrong.”

“I know and nothing will go wrong, 'cause I already have it all planned out,” she told him

She was getting closer to her due date, July Second. Melissa was already a few weeks away. As she ran through everything she had planned out meticulously every detail from when she expected to start feeling her contractions to the hour she expected her baby to be born. She wanted everything to fall into place according to her own time and her convenience. But as July Second came and went, the baby didn’t so much as attempt to arrive.

“Sometimes babies come when they’re ready,” her closest friend told her

“Bullshit,” she replied “They can come when I’m ready for them”

A trip to her doctor would confirm this fact. However, he was out of town. And the stand-in, Doctor Edward Thompson, did not feel the same as she did. “You only missed it by a day and the little guy seems fine and healthy so, I don’t feel there is a need to induce your labor right now.”

‘I can think of several,” She pointed out to him, partially annoyed that her plans were ruined.

“Well we can agree to disagree,” Dr. Thompson told her, “I’m sure he’ll come out when you least expect it,” he told her wishing her well as she left the hospital

Melissa drove home with her bump nearly against the steering wheel. She started to look into ways to naturally induce her labor. She tried them all. She tried exercise, according to one study she saw a two-and-a-half-mile walk every day or a thirty-minute workout could help pop her. But nothing came of it except a daily fatigue halfway through the day. She ate a bowl of dates every day hearing that they could induce labor. Again there was nothing. 

The last thing she tried was sex. With no real boyfriend to fuck her rather regularly she took to having one of her friends dick her down nice and hard. But that too didn’t induce labor, even after getting fucked several times a day all she got was more frustration from the fact that he was less than reciprocating to her own needs. It had now been two whole weeks and she hadn’t even felt so much as a contraction.

Now at her doctor at forty-two weeks, huge and overdue she wanted to know if she could be induced now. “Despite my stubborn boy, he does need to come out eventually”

Dr. Thompson of course said he would consult with her primary doctor on this matter. With the go-ahead, they were ready to begin. While a nurse was setting up the IV line Melissa was asked, “So you haven’t felt any labor pains? No Braxton hicks? Nothing?”

“I wish I did,” she said

Not that she had pitocin coursing through her system. They waited for the telltale sign that it was doing its job. They waited the allotted forty minutes, but Melissa didn’t feel a thing. Not so much as a single cramp. Her water didn’t even break. An hour passed, but still nothing. Ultrasounds confirmed the baby was alive and healthy. “I don’t understand it,” Dr. Thompson said aloud

Objecting to use it again. They started to wade in on the idea of their next course of action. Melissa stayed in the hospital that night as they kept a close eye on her. She ended up sleeping rather soundly that night. Only really woke up to pee cause her son was using her bladder like a pillow.

Several doctors were gathered around Thompson and Lipschitz. Looking at extra copies of the ultrasound other doctors weighed in on the matter. They noted that the baby hasn’t dropped into position yet which could be the root cause. One suggests that there may be a different method of induction. All of them still neglect the fact that Melissa was over forty-two weeks pregnant, and her water didn’t break even after having pitocin in her system. Hours passed, and before she knew it another day had passed.

Melissa finally buckled and relented to her earlier point. “Fine, just give me a C-section! Let’s get this over with,” she told them.

The doctors didn’t waste any time. However, it didn’t exactly go according to plan. Bizarre and unforeseen circumstances caused a pause or a hindrance every time she was going to be wheeled in for a cesarean. An electrical fire erupted as they prepared the room for Melissa. Another surgical room had the ceiling collapse in on it. The nurses talked amongst each other about how it felt like this was an eerie coincidence.

Melissa was starting to feel it too. “Am I just gonna be cursed to be pregnant forever?”

“No,” One nurse tried to console her. 

“Then why haven’t I felt anything, any sign that this kid is gonna be coming out of me.”

Unsure how to respond. The nurse simply replied, “I’m sure that your son will be coming out any day now,”

Another week passed and she was now three weeks overdue. Walking felt rather cumbersome, and her waddle stride didn’t feel like it covered enough ground. She complained about how her son was just getting heavier and heavier.

The doctors still didn’t have an answer. The hospital was rather cautious about attempting to induce her again. The two surgical rooms they had lost were still in the clean-up phases. They absolutely did not want to risk a freak accident happening again and taking out another room.

Despite the hospital administration's growing concerns, Melissa remained determined to go for another. A different hospital. A different part of town. Only to be met with the same thing. A freak accident, this one a chemical explosion, the cause of which was still being determined.

“Oh god,” Melissa uttered upon hearing the news that her procedure was being moved to another date. “I’m gonna be fucking pregnant forever aren’t I?” she asked with a melancholy head hunched down over her massive baby belly.

Melissa felt her son moving, a little food pressing against the skin. She closed her eyes and tried to hold back her tears. Was this supposed to be a sign? Was this her baby's way of telling her that he was never going to leave her?

Several more weeks had passed and she was now sitting at a staggering fifty-two weeks. Her stubborn boy refused to budge. Not so much as a sign that the baby was coming out. He rested nice and high, not even descending. It was getting harder for Melissa to walk around and carry the weight of this pregnancy.

Sitting down for too long made her legs go numb. And lying down she found it was getting harder to stand back up. The way she waddled she was bound to knock things down more and more making trips to the store all the more challenging. She was getting embarrassed by her size. She was beginning to feel like she was under some kind of curse, a curse to carry her son in her womb forever.

One night before bed. As she lay there overburdened Resting as comfortably as she could, she started to question her baby, “Why haven’t you come out? What did I do to you? I carried you, I fed you so you’d grow, I did everything to make sure you grew healthy.” She was starting to tear up, “So why… So why won’t you come out?”

She waited. Nothing. She felt him lay there against where her hand was but not so much as an arm moved.

“What did I do wrong?” she asked

That night in her dream, she was standing there massively overdue. In her dream, she knew she had been pregnant for years. Her son just got bigger and bigger, never leaving the confines of her womb. She strained her back to keep her massively distending pregnant belly from scraping against the floor. The floor was a pedestal of stained glass heavily embroidered with imagery of broken hearts. She could hear every plan she ever made, every little detail she had ever planned out. A single question from one person she had overlooked. An interaction that seemed rather unimportant at the time.

“It doesn't sound like you love them,” a woman commented she too was expecting a baby herself

It was when Melissa was in the store buying some maternity clothes. “That doesn’t matter, Until they’re here it's all about me,” she said arrogantly

“That’s so sad,” she commented back. “How could you not love them before they’re born?”

Something Melissa never answered then. She woke up to see her huge belly, her hand still resting on it gently. With a soft voice and a gentle caress, she muttered the words to her sleeping baby boy, “I love you, Joshua. I love you,”

She felt him move that fluttering feeling; like back in the earliest stages of her pregnancy. Melissa closed her eyes and said it again. Faintly she started to feel the weight shifting. And the sensation around her uterus. A tingle at first that got stronger. She was fifty-two weeks pregnant, and with three simple words, she started to feel the early signs of labor. Melissa hoped he’d be coming out soon, happy and healthy, she didn’t care what happened to her now. But it wasn’t to be, she carried for another forty-eight days with no sign of ending in sight. As week sixty approached its end, her waiting son chose then to begin his birthing.

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

With a kiss we will paint a flawless view (part 2)

Dracule Mihawk x reader. This is part two of two. NSFW!!

This fic is dedicated to @madbadpadawan. 

This fic is part of the Beast in Black series, and the sequel of Come close and whisper my true name.

*****

Tomorrow dawns and Mihawk has disappeared.

You wake up nine hours later, after one of the only nights of interrupted sleep you have been blessed with in the last six months; pleasantly rested, you reach towards the other half of the bed, searching for your lover’s firm and warm body… and you don’t find it. The room is empty save for you, you realise as you open your eyes and slowly, awkwardly sit up on the bed, and no sound that could betray Mihawk’s presence in your study or in the bathroom can be heard. 

A look at the clock on your bedside table makes you realise how late it is; Mihawk, who occasionally treats himself to a morning spent lounging in bed with you, must have raised to make you rest as long as you could. He has probably eaten breakfast already, you think as you stand from the bed, distinctly ungraceful as usual, but after you’ve spoken to your mother regarding a request you have received from the city’s prefect and written a few important letters, you can reach him in the gardens to keep him company as he trains with Yoru, and discuss the matter you have avoided for two months…

You’ve almost reached the bathroom’s door when you notice the folded piece of paper on the chest of drawers, with your name written on it in a calligraphy you would know anywhere. You take the note, open it, and your good mood evaporates.

Beloved (name),

You look so beautiful sleeping in my arms, leaving your bed is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Forgive me, but I have to leave for a few days for a very important matter; I promise I’ll be back soon, before our baby comes, and you will understand everything. 

Please take care of you both. I love you more than I can express in words.

Yours forever,

Mihawk.

The tenderness in those words is intense enough to move you, but the content of the brief message hits you like a metaphorical punch in the belly.

He has left. You can’t believe it… he said he’d remain for the rest of your pregnancy, to make up for the time he had spent away and because he wanted to make sure you’d be alright, well look after, and now this. Where in the world - where the fuck has he gone, and why?!

Your heart is spinning, so much that you have to quickly return to the bed and sit; you know stress could harm your baby, so you force yourself to breathe, slowly and deeply as the doctor has taught you, as you re-read the content of the piece of paper in your shaking hands. A very important matter, he wrote, without explaining further. Is this a Warlord mission? He has been challenged to a duel by another swordsman? Has he returned to Kuraigana to take care of some personal business? Whatever the case you would have supported him, encouraged him to go wherever he needed to; the last thing you want is to keep him chained to you or to stop him from pursuing his interests. Why didn’t he tell you? Didn’t he trust you? Or he simply thought there was no reason for you to know?

You will understand everything, he also wrote, which does comforts you a little in the following days, since apparently Mihawk does intend to tell you where he went in time, but only partially; he means to stay away for a few days, and you know that nothing will ever stop your lover from returning to you, not even the whole Marines army or the end of the world, but sometimes accidents happen, and even the strongest swordsman in the world can get hurt, or sick, unable to ask for help. What if the Marines have recruited your lover for another mission, and find a way to keep him away for longer than he expected? What if something happens to your baby, and Mihawk has no chance to meet them before they…?

You’re now eight months pregnant; still early technically, but many children are born a month in advance, and while you don’t technically need Mihawk to give birth, since your mother has sent for the best midwives of the kingdom and will be there as well, to keep you company, the mere idea of having to go through it without your lover’s solid presence only a door away scares you. You know how excited he is to become a father, and that he has done his utmost to comfort and support you in the last two months; not to have him there feels wrong in some indescribable but persistent way: if your little family is not together at the beginning, who knows what could happen in the future…?

You’ve never felt so alone in your life and, worst of all, you can’t even find comfort in the person who has always been there for you. Your mother is the only person in all the island to know where Mihawk has gone, and why; she admits that on that morning, after leaving your bedroom while you were still fast asleep, your lover spoke to her, a brief but important conversation whose content she has sworn not to reveal to you. “You’re going to know soon enough.” she tells you, deaf to your protestations; while her expression remains serious, her eyes are sparkling with a joy you dearly wish you could share, rather than being tormented by grief and fear “You have no reason to worry, my love; your man is fine, and will return soon enough. Everything will be clear.”

Everything will be clear; you will understand everything. Why do the people around you insist on keeping the truth from you? Don’t they see that, rather than reassuring, their words only serve to frustrate and worry you, in the moment of your life in which you need it the least?!

You know you are overreacting, that you have every reason to trust both Mihawk and your mother, the two people in the world who love you the most, and that it costs you nothing to be patient and wait for them to explain what they are plotting, but you can’t help it; naturally rational and clear-headed as you have always been, ever since you’ve become aware of your pregnancy you feel completely prey of your emotions, afraid of every little thing, unable to find joy in an experience many describe as the happiest of their lives. 

You’ve always been able to take care of yourself; you’ve risked your life countless times, and you’ve always emerged victorious, even when the people trying to make away with you were the worst scum of the sea and outlaws with the blood of dozens of victims on their hands. While aware of the danger, you’ve never trembled; now, on the other hand, you have to force yourself to take a brief walk in the gardens, fearing a few minutes of strolling could harm your baby. You feel fat, and old, and unattractive; no wonder Mihawk decided to leave, you find yourself thinking sometimes, and while you know he would never betray you, you couldn’t fully blame him if he found himself looking at other, younger and fitter, women…

“It’s going to be alright.” you murmur to your child, holding your belly and wishing they were already here, safe and sound in your arms as you try to reassure them like you wish someone were doing with you “Your father will be here soon; he promised, and he never breaks his word. Wait until he’s here before you come out, alright? I know I can do it on my own, but… I don’t want to.”

And in the end Mihawk does come back, as he had promised he would. Today you have awoken alone in your bed for the fourth time; it’s the middle of the afternoon, and sitting on a bench in the gardens you try to focus on the letter you’re writing, the paper placed on a thick book resting on the top of your belly. It is quite an important missive, the answer to a loan request you received from the lord of a nearby island, but you can’t focus, your head hurts and you feel dead tired even if you had just woken up from a three hour nap.  

A sigh escapes your lips, and you’re wondering whether you’re up to finish this little task or you’d better return inside and go back to bed, when suddenly you feel it… you feel him.

He has returned. He hasn’t called your name, nor did you hear the sound of his footsteps; you have simply perceived his presence, like he could perceive yours if your places had been exchanged, not unlike the two opposite poles of a magnet; you naturally react to each other, a shiver on the back of your head that warns you not of an oncoming danger but of the presence of your lover.

And that shiver you feel it now, and a moment later the book with your half-finished letter on it falls to the ground as you grab the backrest of the bench to stand, turn, and finally see him. 

Mihawk is standing maybe three steps from you; he is still, apparently content with just looking at you, but smiles when he sees you turn to face him. “(name).” he murmurs as he moves to approach “My love, are you…?”

“Where the hell have you been?!”

Your lover stops, clearly taken aback; he has seen you upset, angry or worried many times since you first became acquainted, but you have never raised your voice, screaming at him as if he had committed some grave crime. “(name), darling, I…”

“Don’t darling me, Mihawk! Do you have any idea what the last few days have been for me?” you ask when you are finally face to face; you are still screaming, long enough for the residents of the fortress to hear, but you don’t care; you’re beside yourself, relief and irritation fighting inside you, and while you never seriously thought Mihawk had abandoned you, you want him to understand that you needed him by your side, or at least to explain fully the reason for his absence rather than simply leaving a note “I had no idea where you were, and when you would come back! My mother would not tell me anything! Do you realise your child could be born any day? What place in the world could you desire to be at rather than here? You had said you would be by my side, and one day I wake up and you’re not there! Do you realise how it made me feel? Knowing that you could be gone with no explanation the day I simply sleep a little longer?”

You sob, not daring to meet your lover’s eyes. “I’m pregnant, Mihawk.” you add; he obviously knows very well, if only because you’re twenty-five pounds heavier than normal, but you want him to understand that the presence of your child has not only affected your body, but your mind as well “And I know it’s a perfectly natural process and I have received the best care, but I am scared. Terrified. Scared of what could happen to me, and to lose our baby, to discover they are not healthy, or to lose you. I don’t want to sound like a brat, and I know you’ve already reassured me a thousand times… but I’m not at my most rational right now. And now I feel horrible because I’m screaming at you and you don’t deserve it, and…”

And then you start to cry.

Which is terrifying, because you know if there is something Mihawk cannot stand are shows of weakness, and even though your relationship is way too deep and close for his opinion of you to change because of a tantrum, you wish your stoic, cold-blooded lover could respect you as an equal as well as love you. 

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean…” you stammer, and a moment later Mihawk’s hands are resting on your shoulders.

“Don’t; I’m the one who should apologise.” he murmurs softly, his beautiful yellow eyes full of pain “May I?”

You rush to nod, and a moment later you are held in your lover’s comforting embrace, his arms closed around your shoulders as he kisses your forehead. “I’m sorry.” you murmur again, leaning against his chest; you’ve never been so tired, so much that you could fall asleep standing “It was unfair to accuse you; you’ve always been present and attentive to both me and the baby, and I know you will keep to be.”

“Of course I will; I have told you nothing will ever take me away from you, and I intend to keep my promise.” Mihawk points out gently “I… must have underestimated the effect my absence would have; I thought you’d be fine, since it was only for a few days and it’s still a month before the baby comes…”

“I am fine; nothing bad happened, but to wake up and not find you there has been a very unpleasant surprise. I don’t want to keep you chained to me, or on the island; I know you have your life and your duties, and you’re free to pursue them. Just… warn me the next time, alright? For my peace of mind.”

Mihawk promises he will; he’s more handsome than ever, the cut of his black coat emphasising the width of his shoulders, his short hair tousled by the wind, and you smile when he kisses you, not on the forehead this time. “So am I forgiven?”

“You are; and I’ll try to keep the tantrums to a minimum from now on. Are you alright? Did you… do what you had to?”

Your lover nods in response, suddenly tense. “I did. And… it’s something that does concern you. Can we talk for a moment?”

You lead him to the bench, where you and your lover sit (with a bit of an effort on your part) hand in hand; you wait for Mihawk to speak, and in the end he does, not exactly hesitating but oddly careful as he chooses his words.

“I didn’t leave for a Warlord business or any other matter related to piracy; I… I went home, to the house I was born in and lived until I was seven.” he explains “I don’t think I ever told you, but my father threw me and my older sister out of the house; the two of us were left with almost nothing, even though years later Yoru bought the house back from him, and she lived there until… until she passed.”

You nod mutely, only partially surprised; in the many years of your relationship your lover has rarely discussed his childhood and family with you, but you do know how close he and his sister were and, in turn, how much he despised his father. 

“As I said, my father didn’t even grant us an income to live by; as far he was concerned, we could starve to death in the streets, but Yoru did inherit a few things from our mother, things that were legally hers even though our father did try to claim them for himself, to gift the woman he married as soon as he had gotten rid of us.”

The more you hear about the old lord Dracule the less you like him; no wonder your lover doesn’t like to talk about his past, even now that he knows there is no secret he can’t share with you.

“Yoru feared she would have to sell those valuables to support us, but fortunately it was never necessary; her things were still at our old home, where no one has ever been since… since she died. Including me.” 

You take his hands in yours. “She is buried there, is she not?” you ask in a murmur; your lover nods, and he doesn’t tell you how it was, how it felt to see his beloved sister’s grave for the first time in years, to be reminded, as if he needed to, of the fact she might have been alive if he had been there to protect her - a guilt your lover has borne in his heart since he was barely an adult, and that he will never allow anyone to release him from.

“She is. Her rose garden has grown, the vines and the flowers almost completely covering her headstone. I think she would have liked it.”

You remain silent, still completely in the dark regarding the reason for your lover’s sudden absence but confident you’ll know soon; perhaps, you think, he returned to his family’s home to take some memento to gift to your child, some old toy or family keepsake he wants his heir to inherit.

You’re only partially correct. 

“Anyway, I went there to look for something, and I did find it.”

“What is it?”

“Close your eyes.” Mihawk tells you “Please.”

You do, more and more confused, and from the sound that reaches your ears you realise he has moved - stood, perhaps, and of course Mihawk is not the sort of person who would simply depart leaving you there, but you really don’t understand why…

“Open.”

You do, and everything becomes clear.

His having returned to his family home, to retrieve something that had belonged to his mother and sister - two women, like you.

His having spoken to your mother -since your father has passed- before leaving. 

Mihawk is not standing; he is kneeling, in front of you, a tiny velvet box in his raised hands. 

“Lady (full name), wi…”

“Yes!” you exclaim, and then slap a hand on your mouth, blushing furiously. “I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine…”

“No, it’s not.” you stammer, unable to believe your own blunder; this is one of the most important conversations of your life, and you interrupted your lover as he proposed! “I… please, say what you have to, I shouldn’t have, I… I am just so happy…”

Mihawk grins; you can almost physically see tension abandon his body as he is assured of your answer. “(Name).” he starts again; no title, no second names you’ve never used, simply (name), because that is what you’ve always been to him, not a noblewoman, not the future ruler of a wealthy fief, but a woman, a friend, a partner, someone he has come to trust and respect and love, and who he wants to share his future with. He smiles, or at least you think he does, because tears have filled your eyes and your exceptional eyesight is for once failing you… “Body and soul, heart and sword, I am yours and I swear I will be forever. Having you as the mother of my child fills my life with joy; but having you as my wife would make me the happiest man on land and sea. (name), will you marry me?”

You accept.

A moment later you’re embracing, holding each other for a long moment, simply enjoying the feeling of each other’s body in your arms - a feeling of belonging, of pure and perfect syntony between two people who have chosen each other, and who know love is only one of the many things that bind them: trust, loyalty, respect - that is what you feel for Mihawk, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. In the end, your lover finally slips the ring -the ring of his mother, the ring of his sister; you’re the third woman to wear it, and you love him at least as much as the two who came before you did- on your finger; it’s beautiful, a golden band with an elegant oval stone that, Mihawk says, is the same colour as your eyes.

“It fits you perfectly; I knew it.” he murmurs as he kisses your fingers; you have never seen him smile like that “I hope you understand this means I’ll have to move here permanently; married couples do live together after all.”

“Well, I’ll have to put up with it…”

“On second thought, I can always go back to Kuraigana and keep our baby for half the time…”

“Don’t you dare.” you murmur, locking your arms behind his neck “You’re mine now; and I’ll never let you go. Is that alright, lord consort?”

Mihawk assures you that he can work with that, and then he’s kissing you, your first kiss as an engaged couple, which makes it even sweeter and more special than all the ones that preceded it. Blissfully happy, you’re about to tell your lover -your fiancé- how happy his decision to come live with you makes you, but you don’t have the time. Mihawk suddenly breaks the kiss to look at you. “Are you… alright?”

“Of course; never been better.” you answer, somewhat surprised “Why?”

“I think you… had a little accident…”

Your gaze follows his downward, to the small leakage falling between your feet from under your skirt; you blush furiously, unable to believe it had to happen now, that you’ll forever remember this day as the one you got engaged in and then immediately peed on yourself, but this is not a simple accident due to pressure of the baby on your bladder, this is something else…

“Mihawk?”

“Yes, my love?”

“I need you to go call the doctor and tell him to get ready.” you tell him calmly - too calmly, perhaps “It seems your child will celebrate our engagement with us.”

No woman in your family has ever died in childbirth; it was your mother who told you, no doubt in the hope that the thought of being part of such a positive streak would reassure you, and it did… even though you also couldn’t help thinking that a series of successes does have to end sooner or later, it’s a simple matter of probability, and perhaps you are doomed to be the one who fails where all your ancestors have succeeded.

“It’s too early. It can’t happen now… it’s still too early!” you keep saying as Mihawk’s strong arms carry you to your bedroom, as if it changed anything, as if pointing out the untimeliness of their arrival could convince your baby to go back to your womb and remain there for a month more “I can’t do it, I can’t…”

Nobody answers; nobody even pays attention to your words, too focused as they are on the needs of your body. Your mother, who rushed to your side as soon as she was informed of the impending birth of her grandchild, moves away the duvet, making space for Mihawk to gently depose you on the bed, while the doctor places the heavy bag with his tools on the bedside table. It’s only the two of them; your mother had arranged for two other physicians, specialised on childbirth and with extensive experience in delivering healthy babies, to come take care of you, as well as several experienced midwives, but given the fact your child has decided to be born a month earlier than expected, none of them is here at the fortress - or on the island, only a call away. You do trust your doctor, who has taken care of your and your mother’s health for many years, but having only him and his assistants, both younger than you, attending you fills your heart with dread.

“Help the lady (name) with her dress.” the doctor orders, but as the two assistants move to approach, Mihawk stops them with a peremptory gesture of his hand.

“I’m scared.” you murmur; that is not something you admit easily, especially with your lover, whose level-headedness in times of danger you always admired and envied, but this is a moment you’ve never experienced before, and you’re terrified, for your baby and for yourself as well “Mihawk, I can’t do it, I’m sorry…”

“But you have to.” your lover gently points out as he takes your face in his hands “You know it, the delivery of a baby is not something you can’t stop or postpone. Clearly our child is as impatient to meet us as we are to meet them.”

The thought does make you smile - only for a moment; you grasp his hands in yours, feeling like a castaway who clings to a rock in the middle of a stormy sea. “If I were to die…”

“Don’t say it.”

“Not saying it won’t make it less likely. If I were to die, please take care of our baby; it’s not their fault, but sometimes… parents resent them… I know you’re not that sort of man, but I don’t want our child to pay the price for what we have done…”

“Mihawk.” your mother intervenes softly before your lover has time to answer, resting a hand on his back “You need to go now. There’s nothing else you can do for her.”

As he faces your mother’s quiet determination, even your lover, who is not afraid to argue with the Marines’ commanding officers and has faced the most dangerous pirates of the Four Seas without trembling, seems unable to argue. “Take care of her.”

“Of course; I’ve done it since she was born.” your mother points out gently, and your lover nods in thanks before turning to you once more to kiss your forehead.

“I love you.” he tells you “I know how strong you are; please, darling, for our baby.”

Your heart breaks as you see the door of your room close behind him. Your mother, busy thoroughly washing her hands and arms in a basin, returns to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it gently. “Well then, let’s deliver this baby.” she then says briskly “If it’s going to be the same as when I delivered you, we’ll hear them crying in ten minutes.”

You don’t know how long you’ve been here; it feels like days, but the sun has barely begun setting out of the window, which means your delivery has been going on for a few hours at most - the most painful and terrifying of your life. 

You do not hear them crying in ten minutes.

You’re bathed in sweat, your underskirt (the only item of clothing you are wearing at the moment apart from your bra; your mother has offered to help you put a nightgown on, to preserve your modesty, but you were already too in pain to care) soaked in blood and who knows what other bodily fluids as you scream, in pain and fear and frustration, feeling your own cramps-stricken body revolting against you.

At first it seemed like your baby had changed their mind, preferring not to be born after announcing their arrival a month in advance; you have been asked to stand, walk around the room and then return to bed twice already, and while your contractions are closer and closer, nothing has happened. 

Your child is breech, you have heard the doctor whisper to your mother, and then something else that has made the usually calm and self-possessed woman go white in the face, something that has to do with the umbilical cord…

Oh, Gods, you understand after a moment; your baby could end up strangled if you force them to pass through your canal. You order yourself not to push, which is easier said than done, given the fact your body is screaming in pain, begging for permission to release the foreign body that is causing it so much torment. 

You can’t remember the last time you ate; your mother has given you some water to drink with a straw, which helped placate the dryness in your mouth, but you feel weaker by the minute - too weak, perhaps, to help your child, too weak to fight the blood loss that has filled the room with an unpleasant metallic stench.

“Is Mihawk still there?” you ask, your voice reduced to a whisper. You’ve screamed so long, and so loud, your throat hurts, and your mother nods; you have seen her smile when she saw the ring on your finger, but you didn’t have the time to talk about it. You’ll later learn that Mihawk didn’t exactly ask for her permission to propose to you; given how much he respects your strength and independence, the last thing he wanted was to treat you as an object whose ownership your mother would formally hand over him, regardless of your opinion; well aware of how close the two of you are, and that having her oppose your union would have pained you enormously, he simply asked for her blessing, that your mother was happy to grant, knowing equally well how much your lover cares about you. 

You’re engaged. Your child is being born. The most perfect happiness is so close you can almost touch it, but still out of your reach; you don’t want to lose all of it, you’ve never wanted something so avidly and intensely in your life, but you have the distinct feeling that the matter is not fully in your hands, and no matter how much you fight and try to resist, things are about to get very ugly soon…

“He is; he’s walking up and down the corridor like a lion in his cage.” your mother answers in a brave attempt at levity “He has asked me to tell you he can come in, if it pleases you.”

I know how strong you are; please, darling, for our baby.

“No. This is something I have to do by myself; and I don’t want him to see me like this.”

Your mother seems ready to argue, probably to point out the baby is Mihawk’s as well as yours and your lover will not blame you for wanting him close in such a difficult moment, but soon after you’re screaming again, blood pouring out of your body. You know it’s impossible, but you could swear you can feel your childcry in pain, and it’s the most horrifying, heart-breaking sensation you’ve ever experienced. 

It hurts so much, mother. Why are you doing this to me? It’s not my fault, I didn’t ask to be born; why are you making me suffer? Will you not help me?

You do want to help them, you wish you could tell your baby as the doctor and his assistants try desperately to free them of the noose around their neck; there’s nothing you wish more, even if it meant sacrificing your life; you just don’t know how, and maybe you’re not strong enough to fight for them…

You look at your mother, paler than you’ve ever seen her, who holds your hand; simply turning in her direction makes your head spin. “I’m not feeling very…” 

You faint. 

“Hello.”

The man smiles at you, a smile you’re pretty sure you recognise even though you don’t know from where, as he sees you approach, walking unsurely in the void that surrounds you. 

“Where are we? What place is this?” you ask, without returning the greeting - quite unkind of you, probably, but you’ve never been so confused in your life. 

Rather than walking, you feel yourself floating, unable to see a path or a floor under your feet. All around you shadows shift, sinuous and impalpable like the silk veils of a dancer; diaphanous as they are, you still can’t see through them, nor around nor above or under you. They surround you, gently advancing or backing away to make space as you move; you perceive no threat, no danger, as if you were surrounded by waves as you swam into open water, but when one of them brushes against your arm you feel yourself shivering. Cold, your mind supplies vaguely; grey; sick, the sensation too different from anything you’ve ever experienced to compare. 

The man waits until you have reached him before answering; he’s still smiling, even though melancholy fills his eyes. He’s younger than you, dressed as a pirate, a Log Pose on his wrist. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I am not.” you quickly answer, instinctively feeling the need to prove yourself to this stranger “I just want to know where I am, so that I can return home.”

“I’m afraid that might be easier said than done. Do you know what happened to you?”

You struggle to answer, trying to think back to the last thing you remember. “Well… I was giving birth… but there was something wrong with my baby’s position, I felt so weak and I had lost a lot of blood…”

And then the truth hits you. “Oh… I died, didn’t I?” you ask, lowering your gaze to your stomach; you can’t see your body very well, at once not naked and not covered by any specific item of clothing, but your belly feels empty, void - a surprisingly unpleasant sensation. “But my baby is not here, which means…”

“Your baby is alright; for now. And you’re not dead, (name); look here.”

Before you can ask the man how he knows your name (have you met? You’re almost sure you know him, even though you’ve never seen him) his pointed finger draws your gaze towards a structure in front of you, that you had somehow failed to notice until now: it’s a stone arch, perhaps thrice as tall as you and equally wide, deceptively innocuous in its natural immobility, the stone’s surface covered by glyphs. You soon perceive a pull towards it, invisible hands pushing you towards it and the unknown opening at the other side, but you dig in your heels, already aware of its real significance.

“This is the threshold.” the man explains, confirming your fears “To what, there are a thousand names to describe it: afterlife, heaven, hell… you can call it however you like. It’s the place where people go after they die, and since you’re not fully dead, but on the brink between this life and the other, you can see it even though you haven’t passed it.”

“But you did?”

“I did; many years ago. But when I felt you were approaching, I decided to come meet you.”

You’re talking to a dead person, while half-dead yourself; it’s without a doubt the weirdest experience of your life, but at the same time you can’t tarry on it, too focused as you are on the problem at hand.

“If I haven’t passed the threshold… does it mean that I can go back, live?” you inquire, and your interlocutor nods, serious as he regards you. 

“You can.” he concedes “But you need to be aware of what your choice involves. If you let go now, you’ll die, but your baby will live; with the matter of your survival out of the way, the doctor will be able to save them. But if you go back… I can’t tell what is going to happen; they might survive, they might not, and the same can happen to you.”

“I see…”

Silence falls as you consider your options; you can only ensure your child’s survival if you let yourself die now; if you persist, there’s no knowing what is going to happen.

“If I die and they survive… what will become of the baby?” you ask in a whisper, and the man looks at you kindly. His kindness, this is what you remember the most, as well as his smile; this is how you recognise him.

“They will be fine. Your lover will never forget you, and never love again, but the presence of the child in his life will comfort him, and your baby will one day become the ruler of your island, and a great fighter. You’ll be proud of them, (name).”

Mihawk. You hadn’t forgotten about your lover, you never could, but hearing the man mention him brings tears to your eyes. You don’t want to lose him; even if you’re already been together for years you still have so many more in front of you, years you want to spend by his side, as you raise your child together and enjoy the beauty and intimacy of your love. Lines like I can’t live without you and If I lose him my life isn’t worth living belong to romance novels, not real life, but you need him, you need to be with him, because Mihawk is yours and you are his, and perhaps you are not owed a future together, but you’re determined to fight the Gods themselves to earn it.

Unfortunately, your decision doesn’t concern only you and Mihawk. Could you sacrifice your life to save your baby? You certainly can; you’ve wanted this child for so many years, and you know they’ll be looked after. The mere prospect of not seeing them grow, and never seeing Mihawk again, breaks your heart; but you would never forgive yourself if you didn’t put your baby’s well-being before yours, regardless of your chances to conceive again. 

This is what you need to do; you could decide on the spur of the moment or reflect on it for a whole day, you’d know the best thing to do anyway. On the other hand…

I know how strong you are.

He knows, because you are; or at least you can be, if something important is at stake.

Please, darling, for our baby.

Mihawk has asked you to look after your child, and you want the same, now and for every day you have left to live: you will protect them, you decide, ensuring they are born safe and sound and then protecting them from any danger they may meet. Up to now you’ve allowed your fears to control you, the painful memories of the loss of your firstborn and the dread of having to fight a battle in which none of your weapons (including your beloved derringer, as usual hidden behind your pillow) could help you survive; but now you have to be strong, for yourself and for your family. You know that people don’t decide to die on the birthing bed, nor is the matter fully in their hands, and you can be the most headstrong and determined woman who ever lived, that still wouldn’t exempt you from the risk…

“I’ll go back.” you announce, and the shadows around you seem to draw back for a moment “I don’t want to put my baby in danger, but… I can’t abandon them, or Mihawk; I’ll survive for their sake as well as my own.”

Your interlocutor doesn’t seem surprised by your decision; he simply smiles, and moves to keep facing you as you take a step back, away from him, away from the threshold, and then another, at first struggling against the pull and then more and more easily. 

“Thank you.” you murmur; you wish you had more time, but having met him, and that he decided to come talk to you when you needed him the most, counts more than you could express in words “I miss you so much, every day; I wish you were there with me, especially today.”

“I’m always with you, (name); always, even though you can’t see me.” he reassures you; his smile has turned sad as you both prepare to say good-bye, but there is pride in his eyes “Give your mother my love. Farewell, my darling!”

“Good-bye, father!”

Another step back and the shadows no longer envelop you; there is a light behind you, a tiny but persistent spot of brightness towards which you start to run, all too aware the time at your disposal is running out. 

“She’s awake!”

The cry is your mother’s, still by your side as you gasp for air as if you were resurfacing after an immersion of several minutes; you meet her eyes, full of tears for what she expected to be the last minutes of your life, and you can’t blame her for it: you’ve never felt so weak, blood-loss and exhaustion having depleted your strength, but you still manage to smile.

“My love, w…”

“I’ve seen father.”

“What?”

“I’ve seen him, mother; he felt I needed help and he came to see me.” you explain, and your mother, who should perhaps think pain and fear have made you delirious or that you were simply dreaming, smiles “He sends his love.”

“Of course he does. (name); I…”

“I’m dying, aren’t I?”

She doesn’t answer; she doesn’t need to, because the stench of blood -your blood, the blood you have lost- fills the room, and while you can still feel your baby move inside you, struggling to breathe despite the noose around their neck, you can also perceive your own body is about to give in, admitting defeat in the face of prostration and pain.

It’s not too late yet though; at least, you’re not ready to accept it is.

The moon has risen out of the window of your room, not full but almost, a bright crescent in a clear but almost starless sky; as you turn to regard it, everything becomes clear.

“Mother, will you please open the window? I don’t want to smash through it.”

“My lady, don’t.” the doctor warns you as your mother is already moving; your blood covers his arms up to his elbows “It’s folly.”

“It’s the only way.”

“Shifting will not solve anything; your cub will still have the cord around their neck, and at that point you’ll be alone, no one will help you. Please, let us try to…”

But you don’t. You know what you’re feeling is natural: many of your kind feel the urge to shift in moments of danger, instinctively hoping to fight their way out of whatever problem or threat they are facing, but it rarely helps, and it surely wouldn’t help in your situation. What you need is the help of trained physicians, with their tools and medicines…

The window is wide open, the cool night breeze coming in. Your mother stares at you, her eyes full of love, fear, and trust. “Go, my love.” she says “Do what you have to.”

You do.

If you thought standing while weighted down by your pregnant belly was hard, that was nothing compared to this; you grab the headpost and heave yourself from the bed, crying in pain as your entire body protests at the effort, and then the shift envelops you, an only partial relief since the wolf can, after all, suffer as much as a human can, but that you nonetheless welcome. You wait to be steady on your four paws, your tail proudly raised as the fur covers your entire body, before dashing towards the window that you jump over, soon leaving the fortress behind you. 

You can feel your baby, your cub, in your belly, struggling to breathe, fighting to live; you run blindly, crossing the torch-lit empty courtyard as you lift your head to the moon and howl, a piercing, pained but fierce sound that fills the still air of the night. 

No day in this life has ever been as long as this. Mihawk has waited for hours, pacing back and forth in the corridor, unable to ignore his lover’s desperate cries of pain, which got weaker and weaker as she did. One of the doctor’s assistants, who had momentarily left the room to retrieve some tools, told him that the baby (his baby, their baby) was breech and it might be impossible to make them shift in a more favourable position, which in turn would put both them and (name)’s survival at risk. 

His mother died in childbirth. Mihawk doesn’t know exactly what happened, because the matter was too painful for Yoru to discuss, and he has never exactly considered himself guilty of her death, but what if history is repeating itself? His mother first, and then his lover, not considering his sister; are all the women in his life destined to die, either because of him or because he is not there to protect them? Perhaps the baby is a girl as well…

Mihawk sighs, covering his face with his hands as he forces himself to remain lucid. His lover and baby are not going to die simply because his mother and sister have, and while there’s nothing he can do to help, he needs to be strong for both (name) and the child; he knows it’s not unusual for a delivery to last hours, and she is strong and healthy, and well-assisted. Everything is going to be alright…

And then he hears (name) howling. 

He stands quickly and walks to the closest window, out of which he can see a wolf running; despite the darkness, despite the distance, he’d know her anywhere, just like he recognized her call. (name) has turned, but why? Giving birth in human form is surely easier, and he doubts wolf midwives exist…

“You should go.”

The lady Veressa is standing on the door of (name)’s room, both her hands and dress splashed with blood. “You should go after her.” she clarifies “If there’s someone she needs, it’s you.”

“But there’s nothing I can do.” Mihawk points out; he feels helpless, maybe for the first time since that terrible day when he lost Yoru, and it’s destroying him “I can’t help her.”

His lover’s mother looks at him, exhausted but suddenly stern, her head tilted to the side; she has never looked more like (name). “Can’t you?”

Mihawk stares at her; a moment later he has followed his lover’s example in opening the window and jumping over it. He runs like he has never run in his life, plunging in the night’s darkness as his lover’s howling guides him forward. 

Mate, he thinks; he’s still human, but he’s already gotten used to thinking of her like that, at least in the privacy of his heart. Wait for me, mate; I am coming.

He expected (name) to run towards the gardens, since that is a spot she is used to frequent when she feels upset or melancholic, and wolves naturally prefer natural places to man-built constructions, but she didn’t; when Mihawk finally reaches her, his mate has hidden in the small constructions site on the outskirts of the fortress’ borders, where the stables have been recently demolished to make space for a larger building. It’s a highly unsafe place for a pregnant woman, but small, enclosed and dark as it is, it’s probably the closest thing to a den his lover has found, in which to find some safety.

Mihawk lingers out of the building to take care of his clothes and then shifts, fortunately without any hassle; (name) told him he has learned to control the turning quicker than any other adult she has ever met, a compliment Mihaw was secretly flattered by. A year after he and his lover drank each other’s blood, the sensation of his bones changing shape and fur growing all over his body is still peculiar but not painful, and as Mihawk raises his head to look at his moon, his partially colour blind eyes reverently filled with its beauty, he feels alive, and strong, and scared.

He whines softly as he advances into the partially demolished building, his eyes easily adapting to the lack of light, and (name) answers in kind, her voice filled with anguish. She is nestled against the corner of the room, lying on her side to relieve pressure from her belly, as she yelps in shock and pain; she licks Mihawk’s face when he approaches, and gladly lets him do the same to her, but she’s in pain, scared for what she fears is going to happen.

It hurts, mate, she confesses, our cub is leaving. Maybe I am leaving too. I don’t know what to do.

Mihawk lies next to her; when (name)’s rests her head on his back, he can feel her trembling. You will not leave. Nor will our cub, he gently reassures her. I will not allow it.

They huddle together, her pregnant belly safely nestled between their bodies, waiting for the night to pass.

It is so tiny.

He is, Mihawk mentally corrects himself. He’s unquestionably a male, a baby boy who finally decided to be born once his exhausted mother had no longer the strength for a single push more; the shifting has caused his tiny head to slip out of the umbilical cord wrapped around it, and the baby came out naturally, crying with all the strength of his small lungs. He makes others wait for him, rather than the other way around, Mihawk thinks as he gently lulls the baby in his arms, sitting cross-legged on the stables’ dirty floor; just like me.

“Is he alright?” (name) asks weakly; she has shifted back to human after the delivery, they all have, the wolf cub instinctively turning just as his mother did. His eyes are the same colour as (name’s, he hasn’t inherited his father’s hawk-gaze, but Mihawk could swear the baby favours him. He’s the smallest, most fragile creature he has ever seen, and he can’t stop looking at him, at his soft skin and tiny hands, at the way he has screamed and cried loud enough to wake the dead for a few minutes before falling asleep against his father’s chest.

Father. He has known for two months, and still can’t wrap his head around it. He is a father, he is this child’s father, and his life will never be the same again…

“Mihawk?”

“Forgive me. He’s perfectly healthy.” he reassures her; they will have to return to the fortress soon, both to make sure mother and baby receive the proper care and because their den lacks even the most basic standards of hygiene and security, but they deserve this moment for themselves… the three of them, a couple and their child, a mother, a father and a son, a small corner of peace and perfection in an otherwise chaotic world “Ten fingers, ten toes, and he reacts to visual and auditory stimuli. He’s absolutely perfect, my love; you’ve been amazing.”

(name) smiles softly. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Don’t be; I’m sure what you went through was worse.”

They share a smile as Mihawk passes the baby to (name), and the child rests his head against the softness of his mother’s chest, gurgling happily. Mihaws moves to put his arm around his lover’s shoulders; she smiles at him, beautiful and radiant and relieved, as they share a kiss. 

“We have a son, Mihawk.” she murmurs, and he smiles. 

“We do.” he agrees “And I’ve never been so happy in my life.”

“Are you awake, my love?”

“I think so.” you murmur as you cover a yawn behind your hand, feeling finally well-rested after what has probably been the longest day of your life; then, as you immediately perceive the absence of someone who until a few hours ago didn’t exist yet: “Where is the baby?”

“He’s sleeping as well.” your mother explains as she quickly crosses the room in the direction of the window, to once more open it and let fresh air enter; she must be exhausted as well, but the joy that fills her face makes her look ten years younger. She was still here in your room waiting when Mihawk brought you back, you wrapped in his coat with the baby in your arms, and kept you company as you were cleaned and finally allowed to rest “And the doctor saw him; he’s alright, just slightly underweight but perfectly healthy. And he was born in wolf form, just like you! It’s a good omen.”

“So they say…”

Your mother smiles as she sits on the edge of her bed, while you sit up, still a bit sore but clean and warm in your nightgown. “How do you feel, (name)?”

“Well, I think; I just… I can’t believe it really happened.” you confess “I’ve had months to get used to this, but I still fear I will wake up tomorrow morning and discover it was all a dream.”

Your mother reassures this is no dream, it is reality, with your baby safe and sound and real, and Mihawk’s ring at your finger. “I’m very glad you accepted his proposal; I’m sure the two of you will be very happy.”

“We have decided he will move here with me - with us.”

“Of course he will; what sort of family would you be otherwise? And fear not, I’ll be the model of a discreet mother-in-law, keeping your baby as you spend some time together.”

The thought brings a smile to your face, only for a moment. “How am I going to do it?”

“Do what, my love?”

“Being a mother. You took such good care of me, and I know I can hire a dozen nannies and nurses if I want, but… this is something I have no experience in; it’s completely new.” you confess; you have never shied away from a challenge and your heart is full of joy for the birth of your baby boy, but the thought of being responsible for his well-being, for his security and education and readiness to face the world once he’ll be an adult… yes, you have to admit the thought scares you “And I know Mihawk would do his part; this has nothing to do with him, just…”

“You fear you won’t be up to it.”

“I do; I fear I will disappoint you all, our child especially.”

Your mother smiles. “I’ll tell you a secret. You can read a pile of books on child rearing as tall as you are, hire an army of nannies, have your child being educated by the best tutors since he’s two, and at times you’ll still think you are doing a horrible job.” she explains “There is no sure recipe or magic formula, no foolproof remedy to make sure you’ll never make mistakes raising your child; rather, it’s something you’ll learn to do together, and discover through trial and error. Trust your judgement and the people close to you, and everything will be fine. Children can be forgiving when mistakes are made with the best intentions.”

You reflect on her words for a while, just a little less nervous than before, until your mother retrieves her Den Den Mushi from a pocket of her dress.

“I forgot to tell you; Sinead called while you were resting. I told her about the baby and she sent her regards and love, but maybe you should call her. There’s no rush, but…”

“No, you’re right; there’s something important we need to talk about after all.”

With a sigh you take the Den Den Mushi from your mother’s hands; your cousin-in-law answers almost immediately. “Sinead, it’s me.”

“(name)! How are you?” she asks, her excitation clear through the line “Congratulations! How is the baby? Your mother told me it’s a boy. Have you decided on a name?”

“Not yet; but he’s fine, fortunately, even though he took his sweet time being born. How are you? And Caspian?”

They are both fine, she assures you; it’s been a year since Sinead’s husband, your cousin Theon, was killed, and she has finally started recovering, devoting herself to the care of her son and her husband’s property, to keep it until Caspian is old enough to inherit it. Apart from her terrible taste in men, Sinead is a good woman, and you have started growing closer now that Theon’s resentment and envy towards you are no longer keeping you apart.

“I’m sure that you have everything under control, thanks to your mother and your doctor, but… well, if you need help, please call me; I have helped raise six children between Caspian and my brother’s, so I’m quite experienced.”

“I will; thank you, it’s very kind of you to offer.” you answer, sincerely touched… and suddenly a little ill-at-ease, because you hate the thought you’re going to repay her offer to help with bad news “Sinead… I know last year, after Theon died, we had discussed making Caspian my heir, but this baby… well, I want him to become lord of this island after me; it’s his inheritance, and I want to give him the best life I can.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry if this… displeases you. I’m very fond of Caspian, and will always be there for him, but…”

“No, I understand; this child is your son, it is only fair that he inherits your feud.” she points out gently “To be honest, I’m relieved; I know this is not what Theon would have wanted, but I don’t think my son would be happy in your mother’s role. We can already offer him a good start at life, and I want him to be able to choose his destiny.”

You can only approve your cousin-in-law’s decision; Sinead congratulates you again for the birth of your son, and promises she and Caspian will soon come visit. Having said your good-byes, you return the Den Den Mushi to your mother, who notices you’re a bit pensive.

“What are you thinking about, my love?”

“Nothing.” you reassure her; what’s the point of worrying about the future, when the present offers you so much to be happy about? “Only that I feel blessed; and I want to see the baby and Mihawk.”

His son’s hand is too tiny to close around his index finger; Mihawk observes the scene in front of him, fascinated beyond words, a strange emotion that is love, pride, protectiveness and anxiety filling his heart. The baby is not yet aware of the world around him, so small and helpless in the vast, dangerous world, and he doesn’t know how much he is loved, and how his father, and his mother, would be ready to fight the Gods themselves to keep him safe. 

It’s alright, Mihawk thinks as he frees his finger from his son’s gentle grasp; we’ll just have to make sure he learns it and never forgets it.

“Come, my little darling.” he murmurs, his voice soothing, as he bends to lift the child from his cot. Any man or woman who knows him, even just by his fearsome reputation as a pirate and swordsman, would be amazed to hear him talk like that, but Mihawk doesn’t care, and not just because he’s alone; with his son in his arms, the baby’s tiny but steady heartbeat reverberating against his chest, it’s almost impossible to worry or care about anything else “Let us go visit your mother.”

A spacious, well-lit room next to (name)’s apartment has been arranged as a nursery for the baby, even though it’s still empty save for a cradle, the same his mother and grandfather once used, a changing table and a few shelves on the walls. Mihawk keeps the baby against his chest, a hand under his bottom and the other supporting his neck and head like the lady Veressa showed him, as he walks to his fiancée’s bedroom, finding her sitting on her bed, smiling and breath-taking in her joy.

“I was told my lady had asked for us.”

“I most certainly did, lord consort; now come, I want to see my heir, and a kiss.”

He gives her both, more careful than he’s ever been as he lowers the baby on her lap and then presses his mouth to (name)’s. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better; thanks for bringing us back, I felt so weak I really couldn’t walk…”

Mihawk smiles and shakes his head; the baby wakes up suddenly, not crying but with a quiet content sound that reminds his father of the happy chirping of a bird. 

“Do you think it was because I’m also a werewolf?” Mihawk asks suddenly.

“Excuse me?”

“You told me that for years your lovers had always been men you met out of the island; they were humans, not werewolves. And we did conceive only three months after you turned me…”

“It… would make sense; people did use to say werewolf blood has magical properties.” (name) admits slowly as she plays with the baby’s hands “But still, it’s impossible; turning into a werewolf doesn’t cure every wound or medical problem one has; Shanks’ arm didn’t grow back, and the same must be valid for me, and my… my womb.”

They reflect silently on the matter for a while, both aware that they might never find an answer to their doubt, and that they don’t need it - not when the result of that unexpected miracle is there with them, crying softly as he shakes his tiny hands.

“Are you hungry, my little love?” (name) asks, and while the baby obviously can’t answer he wastes no time in latching to her breast once she has lowered the neckline of her nightgown and raised her son to her chest, his tears soon forgotten “Here you go…”

Mihawk pulls a chair close to the bed. “We haven’t decided on a name yet.” he points out after a moment “We can’t keep calling him the baby forever. Still unwilling to use your father’s name?”

(name) shakes her head; no matter how much she loves her father, she wants her baby to be his own person, and to love him for him, not because she reminds him of someone else. “I really don’t know, there are so many good names…”

“There is one I have always liked.” Mihawk proposes “Gawain. It has a nice ring to it, does it not?”

“It does. Gawain… do you know what it means?” (name) smiles “Little falcon. I think it’s the perfect name for a son of yours. Do you like it, little one? Your name is lord Dracule Gawain…”

The baby doesn’t comment, too focused on the first meal of his life.

“We’ll always protect you.” Mihawk swears, brushing his fingers against the baby’s soft hair; dark hair, just like his. (name) nods. “And we’ll always be on your side, whatever road you decide to take; we promise.”

The baby gurgles happily as his parents share a smile, and a kiss.

“I will never leave you.” Mihawk murmurs “And I swear I will love you forever.”

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#360

“Hey slave.  Welcome to the daylight.  I’m your new owner… well for the next four days at least.  You will address me as ‘Sir’.  If there are other owners present, you will address me as ‘Sir Liam.’  What did your owner tell you about this weekend before locking you in that hood?...  Just that you were going to be passed over to a new master for the weekend?...  OK, well this is going to be fun.  And by fun, I’m meaning a nightmare for you….

“First of all, you must be thirsty.  That was a six-hour drive in the back of my truck.  I don’t know how long he had you locked up and hooded before that.  It’s a good thing I have a full bladder.  You might as well get used to drinking my piss.  Get over here and on your knees.  Right here.

“That’s it.  I’ve been needing to do this for the last half hour.  Ahhh.  Man.  Your owner says that you love drinking piss.  I can tell.  That’s going to be a big plus for you this weekend.  He also said that you eat a man’s shithole.  That’s going to be a plus as well. 

“Pull back.  I don’t want a blowjob at the moment.

“I need to go over the rules for this place before we go in.  First, this is a private place and party; and this event is by invitation only.  The owner of this site believes in community for its clientele to come and enjoy themselves.  Each weekend there is a theme, which rotates between Masters and slaves, Doms and subs, Dads and sons, Alphas and omegas, and so on.  Basically, it’s Tops and bottoms but with a slightly different twist each week.  The thing is that once we walk through that door, your role is set, there is no flip flopping ever.

“You’ll be expected to wear a collar, ankle cuffs, wrist cuffs, and one of their chastity devices.  The collar will have a tracking device, and I think this event requires that they be remote controlled electrified.  You don’t have pubic hair, so I don’t need to tell you that they would have shaved it off.  You will be douched out throughout the day and night.

“The men here have a dress code too.  We can’t wear anything that covers up our cock and balls.  The owner believes that a man is more likely to use his dick if it’s not covered up.  So you are going to see a lot of cocks this weekend.  Many of which you will be expected to service.  All men will have access to you and your holes.  That is another rule that is strictly adhered to. 

“The men will also have their full asses exposed.  You will be eating a lot of them.  And no fucking complaining on your part, you got that?...  Expect more of those face slaps.

“We arrived a bit early.  We can relax in our cabana overlooking the lake.  Well, I’ll be relaxing.

“Here, help me get out of my driving clothes.  I usually only wear a tank top and boots….  Grab my bag and come with me. 

“OK.  I’ll be checking in for us.  Over there is the slave intake.  You are slave number 23.  I’ll see you on the other side….

––

“…Well don’t you look good in those leather cuffs.  And I see you have a yellow and tan stripe in your collar.  That means that you are flagged for piss drinking and ass eating.  You are going to be doing a lot of that.  There’s a formal dinner for the men tonight.  After they clean you out, you will be hooded and installed under one of rim chair seats.  A random man will be sitting on your face.  You will worship his shithole throughout dinner.  After dinner, you will probably be installed as one of the urinals.  Being this is your first time here, you may be instead set up as one of the slaves that will get gang banged.  The owner and his men will figure all that shit out.

“Here we are, at our cabana.  Yeah, we sleep and fuck out in the open.  That’s what I love about this place.  Sex is open for all to see.  There is nothing to hide.  There’s going to be so much of it, that it no longer is something that stands out, that it is in the background. 

“There’s my bed, and your slave mat next to it.  Some men let their slaves sleep with them, but you are not either of my two slaves let alone my boy.  So you get the mat. 

“I see they have a rimseat.  Go ahead and lay down on the floor with your head right next to the step down. 

“Lift your head.  This small rolled up towel will give your head some comfort, but before you think I’m a softie, I put it there because I’ll be able to sit down comfortably with my legs on the lower step and your mouth will be pressed against my shithole with no give. 

“Put your arms up near your head.  The front legs from this rimseat will go through the D-rings in your wrist cuffs nicely, essentially locking them in place once I sit down.  This seat goes so nicely over your face.  Damn! You really look like you belong under there.

“I see you staring at my cock.  Open up your toilet mouth.  Let me see if I can squirt a few more drops of piss for you….  Ahhh, there.  Actually you’re getting a nice stream.  Lucky you.

“Check out my ass.  It’s beefy.  It’s been sweating in that truck for the last six hours.  I didn’t take a shower this morning.  It’s going to be nasty.  And I want that.

“Ahh.  Get that tongue going.  Oh man, fuck!  You already got me leaking.

“At home I have a boy, a slave, and a toilet.  You are here to serve me in all three roles.  I have made an arrangement with your owner.  He wanted to borrow my toilet so he can experiment with feeding. 

“I did that on one condition, that I get to feed you first.  You ain’t going anywhere.  I know you are hungry.  You are going to be fed this entire weekend; it is Feeders and eaters Weekend after all.  Now open your mouth.”

[klausysworld]

Hey Love ! I so loved your writing and your plot initiation on YOU ARE MINE NOW. Can there be a part two for that story where the reader goes to him as he exclaimed and there is loads of dirty talk and they finally have sex ! Thank you dearest💜💜

You’re mine now PT2

-part 1

It had been over week since Klaus had fingered me in my bed. Over a week since i last touched myself. I had thought about it but nothing i could do was going to be able to amount to him. I dreamt of him every night, his fingers, his mouth, his cock, his voice, everything. I often woke up panting and would stand in the shower for an hour or so, i tried to use the shower head but it didn’t work the way i had hoped. Everything in me was itching to go to him, his words echoed through my mind on loop

“you will never need to touch yourself again do you understand? you come to me”

Each time i saw him i would blush deeply and scurry out the room. The other day i had been in the living room with Rebekah and he sat next to me, i was mid conversation so i couldn’t leave but i instantly felt my body rush with excitement, my clit pulsing and i squeezed my thighs together. He knew. He decided to put a hand in my upper thigh stroking circles against me acting as though it was normal and i wasn’t mentally fucking him.

Each day seemed to get worse, when he was near by it was amplified.

i should not be ashamed of going to him, he’s the one who told me to, he’s the one who got into my bed and made me cum around his fingers, he wanted it as much as i did, surely.

Yea, thats how i ended up outside his door in the middle of the night after being unable to sleep because all i could think of was him.

I hesitantly pushed the door open before closing it quietly. I made my way over to his sleeping form, i gulped slightly looking him over. He was lead on his back, blanket sprawled across his lower half. I licked my lips seeing his hard on creating a tent, i trailed my eyes up, one hand on his stomach while the other was by his head, his lips were parted and all i could hear was his deep breaths. I ached seeing his bare skin, he had to be naked under there, his cock stood far too tall to be restricted by underwear. I was practically vibrating with need, i was only wearing my little sleep shorts and tank top, my thighs were now covered in my wetness and my nipples were pebbled. I bit my lip as i cautiously touched his shoulder, he didn’t react so i smoothed my hand to his chest sighing at the feel of his hot skin. I rubbed my thighs together as i quietly pulled his blanket off to the side, i whimpered at the sight, his long, thick cock leaked from his already swollen, pink tip. I had never seen him naked, only in my mind and even then i had never imagined such a godly body. I felt my teeth pierce my lower lip and bloody pooling in my mouth.

“nice view love?” my eyes snapped to Klaus’s, somehow he looked sleepy, sexy and amused all at once. Although part of me wanted to run out the room i just nodded at his question and brought my gaze back to his lower self. He shifted backwards to sit up against the headboard, he remained uncovered, on display for my greedy eyes.

“can i help you with anything sweetheart?” he asked gruffly running his eyes down my body.

“Klaus…” i whined desperately “i need you, please i can’t take it anymore, please just do something- anything! Klaus please, please” i was close to sobbing as i cupped my sex in one hand trying to relieve a little of the pressure. I had lost the sense to care how pathetic i looked, if it would make him sooth me i would do it.

“oh you poor thing, come sit love, here we go” he moved to the centre of the bed and moved a pillow to his side i moved to sit by his legs but he pulled me further up

“on the pillow, sit on the pillow, legs either side for me” i did as requested and straddled his pillow feeling myself leak onto the soft material.

“you know i really didn’t think you would last this long. i’ve been waiting for you for nearly two weeks, a few times i thought you were touching yourself again but you were simply screaming for me in your sleep. How did you ever stop yourself from coming to me sooner hm?” i whimpered from next to him forcing myself to stay still and not hump his pillow. My lower stomach was already twisted into a knot practically ready to come undone any second.

“i can’t help it, your fingers felt so good Nik. So much better than mine and my dreams don’t come close, i need you, real you, anything you want, just something” i was now clutching his hand tugging him closer, too far gone in my own lust to comprehend anything i was saying. He made a humming sound and let me pull his hand to touch my inner thighs make me instantly release a high pitch whine. He moved my sleep shorts to the side and let his fingers fun through my folds, i gasped digging my nails into his wrist and arm.

“oh love, you’re soaking, why didn’t you find me sooner?” he mumbled almost sympathetically while pulling away and tasting me on his fingers before tearing the shorts from my body making another wave of arousal to spread onto the pillow below me

“i didn’t know if you were serious, i’m sorry, i’m here now though, please i’ll do anything” i cried, my body unconsciously rolling my hips against the cushion to gain the much needed friction

“was i not clear when i said you were mine now?” he questioned, his hands grabbed my waist keeping me still, a few tears fell from my eyes in frustration, i just looked at him pleadingly, my body burning as his hands held onto me. He pulled me up off the pillow and hovered me over his lap, his tip brushed against my swollen clit and my back automatically arched

“you’re going to sit with me inside you but not move do you understand?” i nodded frantically not thinking about it at all.

He took himself in his hand and i moaned at as he pushed inside me, i was already fluttering, my walls already tightening as much as possible swallowing his length as i fully sat, i leant my body completely against his whining quietly as i felt the light pain of stretching around him

“hurts” i mumbled, my arms now wrapped around his neck with my face in his chest

“yea? your tight little body struggling?” he whispered gruffly while moving his hands so they could rip my top off and cup my breasts with his large hands.

“you’re so big nik” i whimpered as his thumbs circled my nipples, my velvety walls still convulsing around him trying to fit his thickness

“can’t handle my cock love?” he asked mockingly with a pinch to my breasts

“mm love your cock” i mumbled feeling him deep inside me, the coil was already waiting to snap, being so close, his scent everywhere, it took everything in me not to just cum right there and then

“want me to fuck you hm? want me to bend you over? i bet you wanted me to come touch you in your sleep huh? wanted to wake up to my mouth in-between your thighs” i moaned loudly squeezing his dick inside me

“do you want to ride me sweetheart? want to bounce on me? show me how much you need it? tell me what you want”

“want you to fuck me, want you to make me feel good, please Klaus, want you to cum inside me” i felt his chest rumble lightly and he rolled my nipples in his fingers

“want me to breed you love?” he husked

“oh please, i do so so much, want you to move fast and hard please Nik, i’ll be good i promise” i nodded to myself before nuzzling his neck

“gonna be my good girl?” he hummed

“i’ll do anything you want i swear” i cried starting to kiss his throat, each pinch of my hardened nipples earned him another clutch of my walls, another temporary love bite.

“i want you to fuck yourself on me love, do that and then ill give you something special hm? nice little treat for you my love” i looked up at him through my lashes, he groaned quietly and moved his hands to hold my jaw, he angled my face up and pressed his lips to mine. i moaned softly against his mouth letting his tongue slip inside and dominate mine. I slowly pushed myself up before sliding back down his length. Both of us groaning at the much needed sensation and i pulled away from his mouth looking down to watch where our bodies connected

“there you go, fuck you’re tight, i can feel you pulsing around me already waiting to cum aren’t you?” i moaned out and started gaining a pace, making sure to take him all the way each time listening to our skin meet still watching between my spread thighs. I fought against the mind numbing need to let go around him, forcing myself to keep going.

“you’re doing so great my lovely” he whispered helping by now moving his hands to hold my ass and lifting me higher before bringing me back down harshly. His tip smacked into my spongey spot and i sobbed a moan.

“there she is” he mused and proceeded to hit the same area repeatedly. I let out a string of incoherent sounds, my body basically limp while he continued to have me barely hanging on to the edge inside myself.

“can’t- oh oh- klaus…pl- mph please” my mind remained blank as i attempted to form a sentence

“can’t speak love? too drunk on my fat cock hmm sweetheart? so cute for me making such sweet sounds” he spoke directly into my ear making me shudder against him, my head fell to his chest and i panted heavily. Despite my desperate attempts to hold myself together i could feel myself cumming around him. The coil within me finally snapped and my hot walls spasmed.

I mumbled something even i couldn’t understand into his shoulder and he chuckled while pulling me off of him sitting me next to him on the bed, i laid down quietly while he moved to stand on his knees. Gently he scooped me up bringing me back to his chest

“you’re all mine love, my good girl. You ready for your treat?” he asked softly and my interest grew, i looked up at him curiously. He searched my face for a moment before leaning behind himself for a second before returning with a glass of water

“sip first” he whispered lifting it to my lips where i quickly accepted the drink gulping it down eagerly and his hands brushed through my hair

“good girl, you tell me if you need a drink yes? you need anything and you tell me” i nodded in understanding and pushed his hand away with the cup

“thank you” i mumbled with a blush on my cheeks and he smiled and kissed my nose lightly

“okay come on now” he voice lighter than normal and he turned me round so my back was too his chest before lifting my up and putting me on my hands and knees making my eyes widen and i swallowed nervously. Another pillow was put in-front of me

“rest your little head my love” he murmured and i reached out grabbing the pillow and hugging it to myself, my cheek pressed against the pillow as i sighed contently

just as i felt myself relax something hot was sliding along my slick, i made a yelping noice and my body jerked. Klaus’s chuckle sounded from behind me and i gave whimper of embarrassment and trying to bring my legs closer together but his hands were quick to stop me

“no love, let me taste you” he encouraged spreading me a little wider. His hands now on my ass and he began kissing my heat deeply. I let out a strangled moan at the unexpected pleasure

“what a perfect little cunt hm? so tight and lovely, just mouth-watering sweetheart” i moaned in appreciation. His tongue dove deep inside me, my back arched and i buried my face into the pillow to muffle my cries. He sucked harshly and his tongue curled, the familiar knot already forming still being sensitive from the last orgasm.

“such an angel” he murmured into me sending vibrations straight to my ache. i moaned weakly as he curled straight into my g-spot.

“klaus” i whispered hoarsely and he hummed in question

“please” i rasped. He pulled his tongue out from inside me and greedily licked at my folds before kitten licking my puffy clit, his mouth was so hot it was like i could feel every nerve being touched. I couldn’t help the high pitched scream i released into the pillow when two fingers started curling into my spot at the same time my most sensitive sphere was sucked and flicked, at this point i was fulling sobbing through the immense pleasure. I tightened around his fingers as much as my body physically could as i came hard. I released everywhere and i felt him working on cleaning me up quickly. My clit, folds, thighs and ass were lapped at until he was certain he hadn’t let anything go to waste.

Straight after he was happy with his work my body slumped to its side while i hugged the pillow loosely

“such a sweet girl” he whispered kissing my shoulder “i’m going to refill your drink okay? i’ll be right back” he promised before quickly vanishing and reappearing. He carefully pulled me back towards the headboard and propped me up against the pile of pillows. The glass was pressed against my lips once again and i let the cold water down my throat

“you feel better now love?” he asked quietly rubbing my side

“you didn’t finish inside me” i muttered tiredly

“i’m saving that for next time” he whispered and i smiled weakly now resting my face against his chest instead of the cushions

“can i stay?” i asked tentatively

“always, you never have to ask to stay. I’ll remind you again my love, you are mine”

[britcision]

Happy WIP Wednesday friends! Not a huge deal for you today, but I figured I’d drop the Flashback and give you the last piece in the “Bruce Puts His Head In His Butt” for the night!

(Bruce is tranq’ed by Alfred minutes after the call ends and is put to bed. In my heart. He might actually walk himself up but we all know it’s Alfred’s glare that makes it happen)

Just a taste of chapter 14 of Dead and Loving It, you can find the fic on AO3 or from my pinned post which is the latest chapter, but links to the first and all subsequent chapters are in each post!

———————

A Good Excuse To Be A Bad Influence

Jason was actually on his way to bed on time for once in his life, the early end to patrol and lack of crime lord duties giving him a chance to get a full five hours sleep.

He should have known he wouldn’t get lucky two nights in a row; Constantine wasn’t around to distract Bruce anymore.

He’d contemplated not answering. Contemplated trying not to shoot Bruce in half an hour if the fucker showed up at his window.

The pit growled.

It was the worst thing he’d ever heard. The worst thing he’d ever felt. And he did feel it, vibrating in his very bones.

It sent shivers creeping up and down, muscles tensing as if to run away from something inside him.

He answered the call, hoping it wouldn’t show in his voice.

“What.” Flat, unfriendly. Not encouraging conversation.

“You didn’t come to the cave.” B’s voice was equally flat, but in his case it sounded like a condemnation. An accusation.

Jason gritted his teeth.

“I have shit to do in the morning. Make it quick,” he snapped, giving his bed a glare it definitely didn’t deserve.

His pillows had never done anything to hurt him.

There was a momentary pause before B audibly decided not to push it.

Good.

Jason was in a mood to bite.

“We have intel on the Infinite Realms. I’ve sent the report. You need to stay away from Danny Fenton, for your health,” B said, still cold, still clinical.

Like he didn’t care. Like what Jason wanted didn’t matter.

Jason’s grip tightened and the phone case cracked.

“Yeah, no. Fuck off.” He spat the words, adding “get new phone” to his list of chores for the morning.

He’d been doing so well with this one. Of course Bruce had to ruin it.

At least the old man didn’t seem surprised by his reaction.

“Jason. It… he. His abilities may affect your condition,” he said slowly, sounding tired. Old.

The pit snarled, sensing weakness, and Jason kinda wished he was still lost in its rage. Back when he was, it was easy just to hate those moments.

B showing signs of humanity fucking hurt.

“He is. He’s making it better,” he shot back, brooking no argument.

“We don’t know that, Jason. Please, just… just for a few days. Until we can talk to the League, understand what he’s doing to you.”

Was.

Was that Bruce begging?

It froze something small and soft in Jason’s chest, stuck him in place. And did nothing to stop the flood of icy rage from filling him up.

Filling his chest, crushing his lungs, making it hard to breathe. Because of course, anyone and everyone else’s judgement was worth more to the man than Jason’s.

Begging Jason to listen to him, when he would never, ever, fucking ever listen to Jason. When it didn’t fucking matter if Jason begged.

“And why the fuck would the League know better than a doctor from the Realms?” He finally snapped, ignoring the way his throat tightened.

There was a long silence.

“A doctor?” Bruce asked softly, his voice still so flat and emotionless that only his kids could have read the confusion. Jason rolled his eyes.

“Danny brought me to a doctor. I’m gonna be fine,” he ground out reluctantly, part of him resenting Bruce’s constant insistence on knowing everything.

But… well. If it got the guy off his fucking back.

There was a long silence, one that Jason was fully aware B was likely spending working this new information into his latest paranoid fantasy.

Jason seriously considered just hanging up and going to bed. He was about to do it when Bruce spoke again.

“Would this doctor be willing to speak to the League?” And there it was again, Batman voice, clinical and distant and always, always fucking suspicious.

Jason rolled his eyes harder. With emphasis. Willing to be interrogated by first the Justice League and then separately also goddamn Batman.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure B wouldn’t get anywhere with Frostbite. Frostbite took his work seriously and was, yeah, king of a full realm of yetis.

None of Bruce’s pointed silences, menacing looming, or vague growls would bug the guy who got Danny through Fucked Up Ghost Puberty.

(And would probably be helping Jason through his own Fucked Up Ghost Puberty… joy of joys.)

It might actually be fun to see him try. If just being here wouldn’t put Frostbite in danger, because hell fucking no that wasn’t happening. The guy may not be his king but Jason would still die first.

But of course, in all his paranoid bullshit about the Realms influencing Gotham, B had somehow conveniently missed what America was doing to the Realms.

Like Jason hadn’t even done the full write up.

“Not while the fucking League are required to hand him right to the US government for torture and experimentation. Which, by the way, did you read my report on the Anti Ecto Acts?” Jason asked sarcastically, doing his very worst fake concern.

And again he was met with silence. Fuck, maybe Bruce hadn’t read it. Jason had dropped it in the day before all this gala bullshit had started, and it had been a busy two days since.

Maybe B deadass hadn’t put the pieces together. Might as well hammer it home for him.

“You know, the one that says you, me, Cass, and Damian are all non-sentient because we’ve been exposed to the pits?” Jason added, eyes narrowing.

Which wasn’t technically true, since it was the resulting liminality and ability to process ectoplasm that made them count, but Bruce didn’t need to know that yet.

Finally he spoke again, voice gruff and clipped.

“I’m looking into it. But for now, Jason, please-” he said again, the cover of Batman beginning to slip.

But Jason was done. No fucking chance Bruce was giving him orders when he hadn’t even bothered asking for Jason’s opinion.

He wanted to spout off about dangers of the Infinite Realms after talking to some wet paper bag of a man who hawked his soul like it was a pokemon card. Hard pass.

And even after hearing that Jason knew what was going on a damn sight better than Bruce did, he still wanted to push him around?

Fuck that.

“Sorry B, legally non-sentient, guess I can’t be blamed for my actions,” he drawled, then turned his phone off and dropped into bed.

He had a lot of shit to do before picking Danny up in the morning.

——————-

Jason will be using “legally non-sentient” as an excuse long after the laws themselves are repealed, and just you fucking wait until Damian hears he can try it too 😏

Sorry Bruce, Damian can’t socialize today, he’s legally non-sentient and can’t be blamed if he bites someone

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778

[kimaswork]

A Much Needed Respite

Kima I fucking beg of you as your one and only bestie PLEASE GIVE ME MORE

Seeing as you also gave me inspo, I can't say no <3

1.5K words

The days have all been long and rough but recently they’ve been blurring together. Commission after commission, request after request, you couldn’t stay with it anymore. However, no matter how tired you were or how loud your stomach growled, you persisted. You needed the mora to fund your expenses, especially for the little gremlin that was your “Travel Guide”. Paimon spent mora like it fell from the sky and she never even worked to get any of it, she just took what you had earned.

After so long, your body couldn’t take it much longer. You had slowed down, lost your momentum, yet Paimon still pushed you to continue the commissions. “Traveler look! Mr.Zhongli put up a commission!” She exclaimed. Before you could comment or even get a single breath into your lungs to respond she had already taken the commission from Katheryne and returned with a mora hungry grin. “Let’s get a move on! The commission says to go to Wangshu Inn to meet Xiao, so he can lead the way for us!” With a groan you nodded and began your trek.

Upon your arrival you saw Xiao waiting by the entrance. “Traveler.” His monotone voice called out to you. “Zhongli advised me to take you to his abode, lest you get lost.” He explains with a pointed glare towards Paimon.

Xiao was fully aware of the ‘commission’ Morax had sent out for you specifically. Though you felt as if your endeavors had gone unnoticed, Zhongli had kept a watchful eye on you. He knew you were drained, he saw the way you looked as if you were going to collapse. And so he put out a commission to help you.

Not picking up on the rather hostile aura that Xiao emitted, Paimon smiled and spoke. “Great! Let’s head out then!” She blurted. The group soon moved out as soon as Xiao gave the traveler a small bowl of almond tofu, his favorite, to eat as they made their way to their destination. 

Hours later, everyone arrived and entered Zhongli’s abode. Paimon hectically flew into the open area, looking around at the seemingly never-ending world. The fluffy white and orange clouds floated peacefully through the levitating islands that were connected by glowing paths.

“Welcome Traveler, I’ve been expecting you.” You hear Zhongli’s voice from your right, turning to look you see him in his half dragon form. Beautiful antler-like horns protruding from his head, Black arms with golden veins, and a dark tail that followed behind his tall form. “Hello Mr.Zhongli-” You spoke in turn before rudely being interrupted. “Hey Morax!” Paimon yapped. Her high voice getting on her nerves, resulting in your eye twitching. “Saw you have a commission, so what can we do for ya?” Her words only served to anger you more. ‘What can we do for ya?’ WE?! Last time you had checked, you were the only one putting work!

“Ah yes, the commission.” Zhongli repeated as he looked to Xiao for a split second. “There is actually two that I require, so Xiao shall take you while I take the Traveler.” He says, the words flowing from his mouth and soothing you. Just the thought of getting a break from Paimon felt like a gift from Celestia. Xiao nodded as he began to lead Paimon away before she could refute the former Archons words. 

The moment the pair were out of sight Zhongli was at your side. “So what… do you need?” You asked, a yawn interrupting your words as you walked beside him, assuming he was leading you to what would be your next commission. “I need nothing dear Traveler.” His response made you look up at him in puzzlement. “But you had said-” “Yes, yes. I said I had two. However, that was an essential falsehood I had to tell to get Paimon to temporarily leave.” He elaborated his long thought out plan that went through rather smoothly.

“Then why am I really here?” You inquired softly. With a sympathetic look Zhongli took your hand. “My dear, you are at your limit and are in desperate need of a respite. One of which I am going to give you.” He said before unexpectedly lifting you into his arms and making you yelp in surprise. “My apologies Traveler, but I can no longer watch you drain your energy.” He says, silently explaining his actions as he carries you through the winding paths of his abode. 

At his mention of your energy, you noticed how sore you truly felt. After the first, what? 6 commissions? You stopped feeling the pain that had accumulated in your muscles. “I appreciate it.” You say as your head falls against his chest. “It’s really nothing my dear-” “No, really thank you.” Looking up at him, you cut him off. “Don’t downplay your actions, I really appreciate this.” 

A gentle smile stretched across his features as he lowered you onto a batch of clouds. “You’re welcome, my Glaze LIly.” He responds as he sits beside you. “Now rest, I shall stay here.” He stated as his clawed fingers gently raked through your hair. “Would it be okay for me to request a blanket?” You asked, the cold of the abode only now being registered. “Unfortunately I have no blankets. However I myself could keep you warm.” With a small nod you permitted him to proceed with his offer. 

With ease, Zhongli lifted himself onto the bed of clouds and laid behind you. His strong arms pulled your back to his chest as he spooned you while his tail draped over your waist. With the assist of his warmth and added comfort, you fell asleep in his arms feeling safe for the first time in ages.

❈────────•✦•❅•✦•───────❈

The next morning you awoke with the wonderful scent of slow-cooked bamboo shoot soup. SItting up your bones popped, further waking you. “Good morning my Glaze Lily. Did you sleep well?” You heard his gentle voice come from behind you. Turning, you see him approach you with a large bowl with plumes of steam waving above it. “Yeah, that was some of the best sleep I’ve had in ages.” You reply as your arms stretched above your head. 

“I’m glad to hear it.” Zhongli sets the bowl in your lap before he sits behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist. “Where;s the chopsticks?” You ask as you look down at the bowl. “Right here my love.” He responds as he holds the utensils in his hand. Going to grab the chopsticks from his hand you hum in confusion as he pulls them away. “I insist that you continue to rest.” With a soft chuckle he picks up some of the softened shoots and feeds them to you.

Another hour passes and the bowl is empty and laying on the ground as Zhongli held you in his arms. A gentle, soothing, tune was hummed into your ear as your head rest on his shoulder. You couldn’t even remember the last time you felt this relaxed.

“Traaaavellllerrrrr!” You heard Paimon yell as she made her presence known. Flying over to you was the white haired pixie that currently felt like your arch-enemy. “Time to get up Traveler! We have more commissions to go do!” Trying to remain calm, you simply turned away and nuzzled your face into Zhongli’s chest. “Hey! Traveler!” She raised her already annoying voice. “Whaaaat?” You groaned. “Time to get up! Mora doesn't grow on trees, so lets go make some!” That was where you snapped.

“Really Paimon?!” You raised your voice in return, making her back up a bit. “‘Mora doesn't grow on trees’? Don’t you think I know that?!” You shouted. “Travel-” “No!” You interrupted her like she had done to you many times before. “Last I checked you spend most of the money I make!” Your tone dipped at the word ‘I’. “D-don’t you mean we?” She asked. “No I do not! I will do the commissions, earn the mora, actually put in the work while you hover over me and just watch!” You shouted. 

Not knowing what to do, Paimon looked to Zhongli. “Paimon, I believe the Traveler is correct and I also believe you should leave before anything…. Unsatisfactory happens.” Zhongli voices as his hands absent-mindedly drew patterns on your back.

Paimon, seeing she was out numbered, floated away. Once Zhongli was certain the pixie was gone he turned his attention back to you. “I’m proud of you my dear, that took a bountiful amount of courage.” He comments before placing a kiss to your temple. “Please feel no regret, this was for the best,” You nodded, he was right, he always was.

For the remainder of the day you slept and relaxed in the peaceful abode with your love. Zhongli gave you all sorts of affection throughout the day, always having you be his main focus, not like that was any different from normal.

•─────────•°•°•─────────•

Hope ya enjoyed, bye babes <3

Any ideas are welcome, just leave them in my inbox.

(Tap the 'ask me anything' on my page 😘)

[biscuitsngravie]

Our Eternity

cw/tw: vampire!gojo, blood, blood drinking, satoru x suguru, accidental fluff

Summary: Gojo says he's a vampire. Geto "believes" him until he one day he's met with a starved beast in his kitchen.

Part Two

The two lay in bed, Gojo snuggled into Getou’s chest, his breath rising and falling ever so gently. The fingers massaging his scalp with occasional twirls of his hair coax him further into the abyss of sleep. His stubbornness, much like an unruly newborn, wills him to stay awake. He feels rumbling in Geto’s chest before he hears the hushed chuckle. Rubbing his face into his boyfriend’s side and tightening his grip around him, Gojo sleepily asks, “Whats so funny?”

Geto smiles and kisses the top of his head. “I’m on TikTok, you wanna see?” he offers as he prepares what he really wants to say. He brings the phone to Gojo’s face when he feels an affirmative hum, unsurprised his boyfriend can barely keep his eyes open. “You should get some sleep,” he whispers, a kiss to the forehead this time. 

“Don’t wanna,” Gojo grumbles in protest, “wanna spend time with you.” he nuzzles in the crook Geto’s armpit, as though that’s the way he can finally fuse with him. Being this close is never close enough, even with his body clinging to him as desperately as drops of morning dew on a young sprout.If Geto won’t turn, the least he could do is let Gojo live in his skin.

Geto takes the hint and puts his phone off to the side, enveloping Gojo in his embrace. He sighs as he does so, feeling Gojo become more relaxed in his arms. “You’ve been up all day and you wanna stay up all night, too? Hm? It’s already two-thirty.”

— — —

“Day.” “Night.” such trivial words these were, said without a second thought until Gojo came up to him one day saying, “I’m a vampire,” later clarifying only half on his mother’s side. At the time Geto tried to ignore the serious look in his eye, desperate to convince his dear Satoru and himself that the timing was ill-fitting as it was too late for April Fool’s, and too early for Halloween. 

But all it took was tiniest quiver of a lip and one soft plea for Geto to believe him. Or at least say he believed him. Though he couldn’t accept it at first, whatever Satoru was going through was real to him, and that’s all that mattered. 

Except… he’s actually a fucking vampire. 

“But I’ve seen you in the sun?!”

“Pfft, not everyone burns in the sun, Sugu, I don’t have that gene.”

“But what about fangs?”

“Retractable.”

“We had garlic bread last week!”

“Ugh, that was a myth. This one guy was allergic and it started a whole thing,” he waved off, rolling his eyes, “Honestly it was  a meme, but humans got a hold of it—”

“You guys had memes?!”

At that Gojo had scoffed. “Yes! We didn’t have a word for it, yet, but yeah. We wanted to see how long it would take for you guys to figure it out. It’s been… a couple hundred years now…”

The flurry of questions and come when Gojo stumbled in after a seventy-four hour shift at the hospital. His limitless battery working on surgery after surgery following a train derailing had finally drained. Though his stamina was far beyond that of any vampire and undoubtedly above any humans, the mental strain and extensive procedures were his perfect counter. It only made sense that he’d mistakenly wandered into Geto’s apartment unannounced using his copy of the key. Geto was startled awake from a bang and incoherent grumbling. 

“Where the fuck is it?!”

Rushing to his kitchen in nothing but his boxers he saw it: pointed ears, extended claws, bared fangs and pupils that sat as slits in deep maroon eyes. He seemed bigger than usual, despite being hunched slightly in aggravation, in hunger. A low growl escaped him before his expression of anger was replaced by that of confusion. He blinked a few times before speaking, not bothering to wipe the drool dripping down his chin. His face softened, though his features remained sharp. “Suguru? What are you doing here?”

Geto couldn’t process the question at first, trying to take it all in: the adrenaline from thinking someone broke into his home; the relief that it was his boyfriend being stupid, only to find him like…this. A million thoughts raced through his mind, yet none were voiced from his mouth as it hung agape. 

Holy shit. He’s actually a vampire.

“I-It’s… my apartment…”

Gojo looked at him incredulously at first before taking a look around. Groaning in embarrassment, he slapped his hand to his face, making Geto wonder how he hadn’t poked an eye out. “Fuck I’m…” his posture straightened as he tried to hide his features, forcing them to retract. “Shit, did I wake you?”

“What were you looking for?” he almost wanted to kick himself in his own ass for asking such a stupid question, so followed up with, “I can help you.”

If Geto had hearing anywhere near the quality of Gojo’s he’d have heard the vampire’s heart beating so wildly it sounded as if it was daring to jump out his chest. Drool trickled out the corners of both sides of his mouth, his tongue helplessly flapping around as he imagined what Geto tasted like. It wouldn’t be the first time, and quite honestly, with his level of smelling Gojo could almost construct a flavor profile. But this, being offered—

“Satoru?”

The thought of how nice it would be. When was the last time he had a taste? Warm, fresh from—

“You there?”

His fangs bared again, his claws and ears slowly peeking through as he dizzied himself with the possibilities. The places he’d bite. How. It wasn’t until Geto flicked his forehead to bring him back to reality. He was shaken back to reality to see a disgruntled Geto. 

“Go sit on the couch. Now.”

Aimlessly nodding, he followed hand in hand. When sat he had watched as Geto fiddled with his own hands at first, his leg bouncing as he tried to adjust. Shaky hands combed through ever still unfettered bedhead as a form of self-soothing before finally sweeping his hair to one side, his eyes looking expectantly at Gojo before looking downward.

“Are…” Gojo bit his lip, covered in saliva that was ever pouring out now as he listened to the racing of Geto’s heart, the beat starting to resemble his own. He grabbed Geto’s hand and interlaced their fingers. “Are you sure?”

“What…” Geto took a deep breath in futility to calm his heart, “what happens if you don’t drink…blood?” it took a moment for him to look up at Gojo, to really take him in. He looked so… so different. So angular, so hungry, starved even. The red in his eyes taking over the blue Geto was used to seeing almost felt scary, and yet…yet he looked just the same. Just like his Satoru.

Seeing Geto’s gaze soften, Gojo took the chance to get closer to him on the couch. “Well… first we get really irritable—”

“You don’t say,” Geto snorted, rolling his eyes.

Gojo chuckled in slight embarrassment, squeezing his hand. “And depending on how long it’s been, our bodies go into like… this ‘survival’ mode, kind of. We don’t have a name for it yet, but it’s like… all our senses are heightened to find blood. As much of it as we can, as soon as we can. And if that goes on for too long, we kinda go…” wary of scaring him, Gojo decided to keep the details to himself, grateful when he received an understanding nod. “Yeah.”

Geto thought everything over for some time and sighed to himself, resolute in his decision. “Your house is too far, I don’t think you’d make it so…” he bared his neck once again and hoped he didn’t come off as stiff as he felt. 

In his right mind, Gojo would have argued with him, assured him that he’d make it home just fine. He would have teased him, telling him that drinking from the neck is a silly little human thing. He would have had so much to say. But he wasn’t. He was a slave to his body and his needs, and more than anything, there was only one thought on repeat in his head. 

Feed.

Closing the gap between them, he took Geto’s face in his hand to turn his face back towards him, smiling as softly as he could before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. A silent thank you hung between them when they pulled away. Gojo kept eye contact as he untangled their fingers and brought Geto’s wrist to his mouth. 

He watched as his eyes widened at the realization, then contorted in pain as his fangs sunk beneath his skin. Gojo could hear it, feel it in his pulse as Geto’s heart raced. He brought a hand to his cheek to soothe him, willing him to breathe. He placed his hand over Geto’s chest and began modeling slowed breaths, waiting for him to come down with him. As Geto followed suit, the real event began, as Gojo began to drink. 

The initial pierce of skin was already tantalizing, but to taste him, to feel him. The warmth against his tongue and in his throat was like a high in itself, making his skin tingle and his vision blur as his eyes rolled to the back of his skull. He was savory, a slight saltiness underlying his complex flavor. Gojo grunted in satisfaction, moving his hand from Geto’s chest to his thigh to keep himself steady. As some of the blood leaked from beneath his lips, the smell wafted into his nostrils, causing a moan to vibrate between the two of them. 

In his right mind he would’ve checked on his Suguru, would have searched his face for discomfort, asked questions on if he needed a break. In his right mind, Gojo would’ve stopped a minute ago, trying to take very little to keep his boyfriend from suffering side effects apart from dizziness. But in his right mind he was not. He wanted to take take take. He needed it, he needed to feed. He was already so greedy for everything Geto had to offer him, and this was no exception. 

When Gojo pulled back with a glaze over his eyes, his irises returning to his signature blue, all he could do was smile dopily as he met tired eyes. He licked the wounds to encourage them to close and nuzzled his mostly clean cheek against Geto’s. “M’sorry,” he whispered.

“S’fine,” Geto responded weakly. “Are you good now? All your,” he gestured haphazardly, his arms feeling as fragile as twigs as he did, “stuff disappeared.”

“I am, thank you. So much.”

Geto only hummed in response, already at threat of dozing off. “Is poppin’ a boner while feeding a vampire thing, too?” he asked cheekily, assuming his own answer when Gojo changed a few hues. 

“Uh… that’s just a me thing,” a Suguru thing, to be quite honest. “Why, you wanna take care of it?” he asked with a smirk, kissing the two small dots on his wrist.

Getou glared through his delirium. “You want my blood and for me to take care of your boner? Never knew I was dating someone so selfish—”

“You offered!”

“Yeah cause you looked like shit!”

“Well now you look like shit!”

“Well whose fault is that?!”

Gojo rolled his eyes as he stood up, gathering an uncharacteristically willing Geto in his arms to carry him back to his bed. “Let’s get you back to sleep.”

“I’m not a baby,” he grumbled, his voice too soft to hold a real argument anymore as he drifted.

“You’re mine.”

“Fuck you.”

“When you feel better.”

— — —

That was three years ago. Feeding had become a bonding time for the two as Geto learned about vampire culture. He learned about the nuances of the use of the terms “night” and “day,” and spent copious hours studying the history and biology of hereditary and turned vampirism. He’d spent so much time telling Gojo no to his one request since he’d disclosed his status, scared of more things than a man could count (though maybe not a vampire). His brain was once foggy and muddied with the thoughts that would no longer pass through, but make camp in his mind. Once the internal council came to a conclusion, peace finally took stake in his heart. 

July 25

“Satoru…” he says so softly that the only weight it holds is everlasting fondness. “I think I’m ready to turn.”

Gojo’s eyes snap open.

------

an: so this was supposed to be a smut piece but i wrote fluff by accident. part two will have the smut, dont u worry! 🫡 im uploading this part rn tho instead of waiting till tomorrow to start it cause i am impatient 🫡 this is a mini fic spinoff from my original nanami vamp fic that im not uploading anymore dsofoshdl

[fandomwritingbit]

Can i request a William x Female smut?

William is a bartender- and its readers first time going to a bar, her friends instantly ditch her because they see cute guys and leave with them, leaving reader at the bar not even knowing what to even start off with-

William notices and helps her out, starting off small and watching as she gets drunker, eventually he takes her to his house and she tries to kiss him (which he allows) then she tries to initiate sex, but he tells her no cause shes drunk and she ends up sleeping next to him in his bed, in the morning she asks and he decides to fuck her hard

If this is to long or you just don't want to, you don't have to do it if you don't want to!

@lillianastuff

Hello! I’ve finally got this one ready. It's been sitting in my drafts looking pretty for too damn long. I followed your outline but there are a few bits I skewered, hope that’s alright. 

Thank you so much for this request and the others, smashed ‘em out the park you did!

Warnings: swearing. smut. alcohol and drunkness. 

Two hours before their shift the bartender called in sick. Cheeky fuck went against the 24hour notice policy and subsequently left the bosses in the lurch, desperately trying to find someone else willing to cover it. But it was a Saturday night, anyone who wasn’t already in was busy and Henry included. He’d told William that somebody needed to be there, all their money was in drinks after all, and that if no one would help: he’d have to do it him fucking self. And after a long day of pay cheques and fixing faulty lights in the lounge, that was the last thing he wanted to do, Hell it’d be the last thing he wanted on a good day.  

Nevertheless, what choice did he have? Lose all that cash? On such a busy night? Fuck that. He sighed as he settled behind the bar, moving things to his liking, knowing he’d be making the next night’s bartender’s job a lot harder, but wanting this to go as painlessly as possible.

“Will you get those fucking doors open? Its five past the hour.” He called to a worker, who fumbled with what she was cleaning, hurrying to do as he said as quickly as possible.

“Yes, sorry, Mr Afton.” He just nodded in response, pinching the bridge of his nose as he mentally prepared himself to be somewhat pleasant to the people he’d have to serve. It was going to be a long bloody night.

~

Work always kept you busy, so when your friends had asked if you wanted to go out to a bar this Saturday, you agreed - even though it wasn’t really your thing. You’d never gone to a bar before, not a proper ‘young people drinking, music blaring’ kind of bar anyway; so, you were nervous. But still excited to finally have the chance to do something fun after weeks of slaving away.

It was agreed you’d meet at half seven. In a popular pub in town. There were 4 of you in total, yourself, two friends from Uni and one of their sisters, and so you were hopeful for a good night.

Taking the chance to dress up nice, you slinked into a black dress and some boots with heels- not overly classy but clean, and relatively practical. At least your sober-arse thought so, not taking into account that drinking would knock over, and shatter, your sense of balance, and these shoes would be nothing but a hinderance.

Similarly dressed, you and your mates got taxis to the bar, chattering none-stop about your lives, making sure to fill each other in on any drama that had occurred since your last meeting. And it was fun, the most fun you’d had in ages and your constant giggling felt nice to be back.

~

Your lovely evening only lasted an hour. Only one drink in, your friends’ eyes quickly wondering to the singles in the building. And so, still finishing your ‘something and coke’ you’d been well and truly abandoned and looked bitterly between all 3 of the bold ladies who’d accosted and snagged a stranger in ten minutes flat.

Feeling embarrassed at being sat on a big table on your lonesome, you walk over to the bar, putting down your empty glass and taking a somewhat sticky, neglected stool. The tingle of embarrassment again buzzed at your sides when the server turned to you, not offering a greeting but raising his eyebrows, waiting for you to say something.

The expression of the tall bloke was not welcoming, and you stumble before even opening your mouth.

“Hi uh, can I get another one of... this?” You push your glass forward, giving him a closed-lipped and awkward smile.

Resting his elbows on the counter before you, his expression of annoyance didn’t shift. “What am I- Mystic Meg?” He asked sarcastically, presenting his palms to the ceiling. When your eyes only widened, not understanding what he meant, he sighed. “It’d help if you told me what it was.” His tone was curt and mean, you feel heat rise to your cheeks, wishing the ground would open and swallow you whole.  

“Oh, uh. Sorry, I don’t know...” You damn-near wanted to cry, the shame of looking stupid pricking the corners of your eyes. “They uh...” You pointed pointlessly behind you, “were supposed to help me out but they’ve shagged off.”

Seeing your reaction, he stood up straight, trying to be a little bit more patient- though it was a struggle. “Help you out?”

“Yeah... I’ve uh never really drunk before- not at a pub anyway.”

“Huh...” He said, brow quickly raised in surprise. He softened himself a bit as even in the low light he could see the sheen of your eyes, shitty mates you had if they pissed off almost immediately. “Then a spirit and mixer are probably a good way to go- I assume that's what this was.”  He picked up your discarded glass and you again feel embarrassed as his eyes landed at the lipstick on the rim. “I’ve made a lot of drinks tonight; I don’t remember what I made you.”  

“Yeah, I get it, you don’t really register faces.” You smile.

“Not at all.” He looked over your shoulder and you keep your gaze at his hands on the bar. They’re huge, fingers long and elegant like a pianist but you smile at the relatability of his nails bitten down, sympathising with the stress he must be under. He brought you from that thought by tilting his head to the left, “That your mate, over there? The ginger one?”

You look over, quickly seeing her on a fella’s lap. “Yeah...”

“That’s a vodka and coke- a cheap one and all.”

“She must be more memorable than me, then.” You smile in partial self-deprecation. It suited you, that smile, changed you completely from the sorry looking sad thing that sat down here a minute ago.

“Not her herself. The purple lipstick on her teeth is though.” He smirked and you catch a glimpse of a few missing teeth which for reasons you can’t explain, makes your stomach twist. He continued, lowering his head to your eyeline. “Vodka and coke is fucking boring... You drink wine?”

Biting your lip, your eyes get wide, like a nervous rabbit. “I have done...” You say, an awkward look taking over your face again.

“Right.” He sounded unconvinced by your words. “Here then...” Watching the man, he bends and quickly plucks a bottle from a shelf close to the floor, opening it and pouring you a glass while hardly looking. “Try this, if you don’t take to it, I’ll have it.” Placing it down before you, you look from it to him, smirking.

“You’re allowed to drink on the job?” The tone of your question had a ‘not a bad gig’ implication to it and he lets himself smile. Watching your fingers wrapping around the stem of the glass, your nail varnish chipped rather charmingly. As you saw him acknowledge it, you take you hand back from view a little ashamed about it.

He brings his gaze back to you and quells your shame, “I own the place.” He says through a smirk and peaked eyebrow. “Though if I caught someone else doing it, I’d make ‘em down the whole bottle, like my pa did when he seen me smoking for the first time.”

“Oh right.” You laugh. Of course, this man smokes, his hands were made to have a cigarette in them. God the smell probably clung to his skin, you’d likely be able to taste on his... Looking to the wine in front of you, you catch his eyes on you when you look back up, asking, “Someone skiving off?”

“You can tell? What, do you work somewhere like this?”

“I waitress.”

To your surprise he laughs, fully resting his arms on the counter, at equal eye level. “But you don’t know your drinks?”

“Don’t have to, to hand them a wine list.” You shrug. Finally trying the drink in front of you, making sure not to look at the bloke who was very blatantly watching you for a reaction. You don’t know how to feel about it, the taste bitter on your tongue though comfortingly warm down your throat.

“You like it?” He asks when you set it back down.

“Yeah, its uh... not what I expected.” You offer, pressing your lips together between your teeth.

The bartender tips his head back to laugh at you, “Don’t fucking lie.” He stops his sniggering to take the glass back, shaking his head. “We’ll find you something you do like- certainly more entertaining than fannying-on with this lot.” You struggle to take your eyes from him as he brings your glass to his lips: you can think of something you’d like already.

~

You’re not sure how long you sit at that bar, the man behind it being called away every so often to fulfil people’s orders. But he kept coming back to where you sat, each time with something different for you to try, seemingly determined to find ‘your match’ as he called it.

However, as the night progressed your inexperience and consequently, your low tolerance began to show and before long you were, as the people say: bloody pissed.

Too many drinks in, he comes to you again, looking at your state with immense amusement.

“You got a lift home?”

“Nah, I’ll ring a taxi later.” You smirk, enjoying this fella’s company too much to consider going yet.

“How much later?” He asks, well aware that you’d lost track of time and had no idea how late it was. Putting you out of your misery with, “We’re closing soon, sweetheart.”

“Oh shit, what time is it like?”

Looking to his watch he grins. “Nearly two.” You feel your eyes get wide in shock; having had no idea you’d been there for that long. You go to stand but the drink grips you in a choke hold and you stumble near-instantly.

“Hey, careful. Here I’ll help you.” He comes round the gap laughing at your unsteady form and you try to have the coordination to take your boots off whilst doing the impossible: standing.

“God, I wouldn’t have given you so much to drink if I knew you were that little.” He teased. Stood next to him of course you looked little, anyone fucking would. Fuck this man was tall, you’d not taken much notice of that.

“I’m not little, you’re fucking massive.” You say, snapping but quickly looking him up and down admiring his frame. Especially those hard arms that you had to cling to for balance.

Realising that you were beyond gone, he turns you to face him. “I can’t put you in a taxi in this state. You alright to sleep upstairs?”

“With you?” He smiled widely, shaking his head at you, whilst trying to manoeuvre you round tables towards the back of the bar- where the stairs to the flat above were.

Hanging off him, it suddenly occurs to you that you don’t even know this blokes name...  which would be helpful if you’re going to bed with him.

“Hey. What’s your name?” You ask out of the blue, making him laugh as you turned to look at him, a hand landing on his chest.

“William, sweetheart.”

“Oh right.” You keep your hand there, looking up at him. “I’m y/n.”

~

You wake up on a sofa, hazy memories of the man from last night taking you up some stairs- oh good lord were you at his?

The sound of a fella clearing his throat caught your attention. “She’s alive. I was wondering what to do with you.” You see William through a kitchen counter, quickly realising you were indeed in a flat, in an open living-room kitchen area. Sitting up, you feel a blanket slide from your torso and feel the cool air of the room settle on your bare skin. Your bare skin?!

Looking down and seeing only your bra, your sleepy eyes ping wide open. “Oh my God, where’s my dress?” You ask, not sure whether to laugh or burst into shameful tears.

The man’s lean frame walks over to you, placing a steaming mug of coffee down on a table beside you. “You took it off last night.” He pauses, smirking wickedly. “After you climbed on top of me, but before you crashed.” The image of it flickered in your brain. The sensation of pulling your dress off, then the feel of his hands on your hips, pulling you off of him. Seeing sheer devastation possess your face he couldn’t help but laugh. He sat next to you, causing you to tuck your bare legs up, huddling under the blanket.

“Did we uh... have sex?” You ask, not sure if you really wanted to know. The fear of having made a fool of yourself creeping up your form.

He looked to you, tilting his head and not bothering to hide the abundance of amusement he was getting from all this.

“No. I like knowing you can stay awake for that kind of thing.” Laughing again, you decide you hate yourself and cover your face with your hands.

“Oh god.” You say behind your fingers. “I’m so sorry- I was so gone...” You scoff a laugh, an element of disbelief swilling around your head.

“Don’t be. You told me you didn’t drink- I shouldn’t have plied you like I did.” He let his laughter die down. Looking from you to the floor, a shadow of regret briefly on his face.

“No- No you were great. Thanks for looking after me and giving me a good night.” Peering out from your hands, you’re surprised to see he’s looking at you, a thoughtful glare in his eyes.

“You had a good night then?”

“Yeah. Even though my mates left me, and I’ve never been this embarrassed in my life.” You manage to laugh through the last part, just now noticing your dress crumpled on the floor. Reaching down to grab it, he watched the cover doing a terrible job of hiding your skin and blatantly stared at you as you completed the goal. Your face hot under his look.

“For the record... Had you propositioned me any other time: I would have said yes. You just couldn’t tell arse from elbow last night.” He’s not sure what he was hoping to achieve by that, but when you let the garment drop into your lap and a shy grin spread on your face, the stirring of his cock made him realise exactly what he wanted.  

“Even hungover and matted from sleep?” You were half joking, but looking at the slight pinch between his brows, you wanted to cross your legs under that blanket.

He leaned forward, eyes flicking over what parts of you he could see. “Especially like that...” Pushing the blanket and much-neglected dress from your lap you stand. Letting yourself be seen, even though it burned your throat with fear of rejection. Just in your knickers and bra, feeling very much under his scrutiny.

Rubbing one of your arms, you pull the courage to look at him. “You sure you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” Grabbing your arm, he guided you closer to him, smirking as he enjoyed the sight in front of him.  

“I’m not nice enough for that.” As he pulls you so you’re straddling him, he has the nerve to take fun at your expense again. “It's not your first time for this as well, is it?” A long finger draws up your stomach and you shudder, laughing.

“Hah-no.” You say flatly, by this point just wanting more of a touch from this man.

“Definitely not V-total?” His brow narrows mockingly. So you bite the bullet and push his arms to the back of the chair, moving your face very close to his, in the process your behind pressing torturously against him.

“Definitely.”

He manages a snicker before you kiss him, his posture changing immediately, becoming more tense against you. Cupping your jaw to hold you where he wanted you, the other hand grabbing at your hip, moving you forwards.

His hands were greedy from the outset, not that you minded in the slightest, rough skin on the warm softness of your breasts turning you on more by the second. The dull smell of alcohol intoxicating. Never had someone dominated you in a kiss like this, you let him take the lead, your hands clutching at whatever part of him they landed on.

It was fairly overwhelming for first thing in the morning, but the wetness of your knickers was distracting you from your brewing headache. You arch your back eagerly, when he moves to unhook your bra, making him chuckle at how quickly you pulled it from your shoulders, more than happy for him to take what he wants.  

“You’re in a rush, what, have you got a train to catch?” He snickers, making heat rise to your cheeks instantly. But you try and keep confident.

“No, I just know what I want.” You can’t help but giggle though, your facade ruined halfway in. But he seemingly didn’t mind, because your words stirred him enough, to make him push you backwards on the sofa, setting himself between your legs, where you hand a lovely view of what exactly your words had done.

He ran a finger over the fabric of your knickers, instantly aware of your arousal underneath. It made you shiver, and an odd sense of anticipation prickled all over you.  

“You can take them off if you want.” You tease, rising a leg and pressing it against his chest playfully, lightly shoving him to the left.  

“Oh, thank you, I’d forgotten.” He smirks grabbing hold of your ankle, watching you pinch your lip between your teeth. Quickly reaching down to find the other and pulling your lower body off the sofa enough to hook your panties and slide them down your legs. God the heat coming off you was damn-near tangible and glancing at your pussy slick with arousal made his cock twitch. It was no surprise to him that you looked pretty like that, but what was really fucking beautiful was how you watched him wide-eyed waiting for him to do something.

The sudden hand on your inner thigh made you gasp, and you encourage the progression by pressing your foot against his dick. Before you can even form the words to describe it, the long fingers of this man were teasing your entrance, shallowly pressing in and out, then devastatingly fully inside, a practised movement accompanied by circles being ran over your clit. You had enough sense about you to continue playing with his cock, making him increasingly more impatient.

It moved fast after that, his fingers playing you like a fucking violin were replaced by the head of his cock running between your folds, coated in your arousal. It was a sight to behold, and you find yourself raising your hips, hungry. He understood your movement, guiding you and lining himself up before beginning to press inside you. The grunt from him as he did so, might have been the hottest sound you’d ever heard.

The pace he set was fucking mental, the sound of skin hitting skin reverberating through the flat and the moans pulled from your lips accompanied by his near frustrated grunts could probably be heard by the cleaner downstairs.

That poor cleaner.