#lying to her for months and brushing it off like nothing just because he’s a superhero

[definitelynotshouting]

So I just started playing In Stars and Time because I got curious about the sad little blorbo you occasionally post about and afshdjdkrn

I just. Wanna hug them. So badly 😭

Siffrin isat my everything my cinnamon fucking apple WKDNWKDNEKEKSK HE IS SOOOOO SQUISHABLE...... THEY NEED A HUG SO BAD I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

Incredibly pleased im helping spread the isat propaganda like the dev rlly just Made a whump fic in video game format huh....... for tumblr girlies by a tumblr girlie.... my gods we respect the grind as if i could EVER be normal abt that

I'll be so real ive already written little tidbits for a longer au oneshot i want to write in between chapters of hunger au, and the exercise in 2nd person pov is SO MUCH FUN im enjoying myself immensely :] here, a snippet for both fun and profit (and more fun):

"Siffrin...." Odile says, and it strikes a sour chord, a ripple of dissonance that screws rivets around your chest and tightens. She shouldn't have to say your name like that, with that kind of weight— as if all the Craft in the world isn't enough to carry it. Pure reflex ducks your chin into the collar of your cloak; you avert your gaze back to the rubble-littered floor of the tunnel, tracing dark crags in the stone where sputtering torchlight fails to reach. There you go again, stardust. Loop's voice is an ephemeral echo in your ears, a byproduct of months, years worth of past loops gone by. It isn't real. Gone and made yourself another person's problem. It isn't real. "— need you to start taking this more seriously." Odile bites out each word with the same deportment of a dog tearing off chunks of meat, clipped and cutting. Her brows knit together, mouth pulling down in a sharp curve; the lines around her eyes are tight, carved from the knife's edge of her own disappointment. Her disappointment in you. You almost miss the next sentence as well. "I have no way of helping you if you don't speak to me," she says. "And when you minimize these things you went through— you realize that's going back on your word, yes? Gems alive, Siffrin. We want to help." You speak before your mind has caught up with your mouth, hundreds of loops sanding down the words into something practiced, rote. "But there's nothing to help me w—" "Stop lying to me." Odile snaps, and your jaw shuts so fast you miss biting your tongue by a mere hair's-breadth. Your lungs threaten to buckle— inhale. Exhale. Come on, stardust, Loop's imaginary voice sneers, can't you do something as simple as breathe? Or are you just that blinding useless? ... Shut up. Odile's eyes slip shut. She raises a hand to meet them, kneading at the soft skin between her brows. "I'm... sorry, Siffrin," she says, halting, stilted. "I shouldn't— that wasn't productive. I apologize." Tentatively, you say: "You don't have to." "Yes, I do." Odile straightens once again, tucking a strand of sweat-slicked hair back behind her ear with a grimace. "It's not... conversations like these are... hard. Yelling is pointless for both of us. I'm sorry." "But you didn't—" "Siffrin," she says, and this time the syllables of your name twist, a rise and fall that cracks wryly in the middle. One sharp eyebrow arches up into the canopy of her hairline. "You're supposed to say you accept the apology." You stare. She stares right back. Oh. She's serious. "I..." you look down. "Um. Accept?" "Excellent," Odile says brusquely, and bends to peer at an invisible speck of dirt clinging to her forearm. She brushes at it with absent, studious flicks, the epitome of single-minded focus. "Then now we can move on with our lives."

[kiwinatorwaffles]

the hate towards amber in the invincible tv show is wild honestly because other than that one line (the one where she reveals she knew mark was a superhero) that was a slight fumble on the part of the show runners, she’s actually really excellent and excels at her narrative role compared to her comic counterpart who is just kind of there to be a placeholder date before mark gets with eve.

i admit that line was kinda poorly set up and could’ve been written better (like maybe her instead saying “ugh i expected it but that doesn’t excuse the way you treat me”) but like. Really? did that negate every single thing her character stood for prior to this point? how amber is actually really good for putting up with his bullshit for so long even after he flaked out on dinner with her parents? how she put mark in his place for thinking he could get away with neglecting his relationships just because he’s a hero? how it showed that he’s acting just like how nolan treats debbie? did One single line, said during a moment of anger and frustration, change all of that?

her character is a great parallel between mark and his dad in s1 and is even better in s2 at showing how mark physically can’t live a normal life no matter how much he wants to. like we know amber isn’t endgame and that’s what hurts a lot. they want to be normal college kids going through their awkward teen years together but i guess that one slightly weak line of dialogue made her character “terrible” and “ruin mark.” also even setting aside the myriad of… Other biases, a lot of people just seem to forget the fact that she’s a teenage girl sooooooooooo

(also i’m thinking about this one comment i saw on youtube where someone was like “i didn’t watch that scene initially so i didn’t understand the hate but after i watched it i hate her as well” and. seriously. are you being so serious right now.)

anyway i’m an amber defender to my death she’s amazing in the show and deserves nice things. if you are a video analyst who actually sees her as a normal character instead of calling her “the other woman” you immediately gain my respect

[gorejo]

▸ you want to fuck my girlfriend? here, take a listen, scrub. - GOJO SATORU (forbes30!gojo au)

your boyfriend isn’t too fond when you speak so highly of your coworker, especially when he sees right through their motives — he thinks. so what does your boyfriend do when your coworker calls while fucking you? well, have him listen so he can fuck off.

content: 6.5k words (unedited bc i can't deal with this rip). afab!/fem!reader, she/her pronouns. minors do not interact. blowjob, and cunninlingus. you swallow his cum. he calls you pet names (girl, baby, sweetheart, angel, princess), he gets jealous of your coworker. fingering. satoru cums in his pants oopsies haha. breeding. he calls himself daddy one part for a joke. he cums inside you. he manhandles while his coworker hears you both doing the naughty naughty ◡̈ satoru gets nervous when you call him by his full name.

How did things turn out this way?

You were supposed to be enjoying your dinner with Satoru. You should’ve helped clean the dishes with him by now, maybe even put the plates back into the cabinets.

Usually, he’ll cling onto you like a koala from behind, arms loosely wrapping around your waist while his hands were placed at the base of your tummy. lightly kissing the back of your neck, complaining about how stressful the day was with Ijichi up his ass as you hummed back sweet affirmations. 

And maybe by now, you were supposed to be having some dessert while cuddling with him on the couch, cozy and under the soft blankets as he played with your fingers, grazing around your promise one while watching ridiculous rom-com movies, murmuring under his breath something undecipherable with a smug look on his face. 

“What,” you queried without taking your eyes off the screen, biting your lips as you intently rooted for the couple to finally get together, “ugh but Satoru how can she be so dumb!” frustratingly rolling your eyes, pouting as you slumped into his chest, “like the man is practically spelling it out he’s in love with her!” 

“You tell me,” your boyfriend groaned, “because baby this feels like déjà vu.”

“What?” you intently looked back at him, “sorry… can you repeat that?” you cheekily smiled, clueless at what was going on in your boyfriend’s head, completely forgetting about the torment and the eight years of suffering (he liked to exaggerate) he had to endure just to be here with you today, not even adding the months it took for you to even date him during college — he liked to always add.

“Nothing,” he softly responded, pulling you closer as he rested his chin on your shoulder, “just thinking, that’s all,” he murmured before placing a kiss on your shoulder.

This was supposed to be the ritual for Thursday evenings — wind down and relax while shitting on the cringy plot as you both giggled about the unrealistic romance, completely delusional just how you both got back together…

And as most couples do, while peacefully lying together things happen to lead to another, a simple kiss becoming something more, wanting and needy, resulting in occasional sexual favors when you both are up for it. 

occasionally.

“Nothing too strenuous,” he’ll smile while looking up at you, his hair softly covering your breasts as he kisses your perked nipples.

“Satoru… w-we can’t, we need to get up early.” The irony in your words almost made him laugh. 

Can’t? Oh… how you underestimate him. Have you not learned already that there was no “can’t” in his dictionary? 

“No no, princess, we can,” he tenderly seduced as his lips brushed against your skin, looking up at your needy face with his cheeks a faint rose, “we always make it work.”

“But ‘Toru! Ngh,” you whined, grasping his wrist as you arched your back. The way you sucked in a harsh breath when you felt his mildly calloused fingers inch their way down into your panties, gently stroking your sensitive clit made his cock painfully throb inside the restraints of his briefs.

“it’ll be quick, so relax,” your boyfriend coaxed, his tongue swirling and sucking against your breasts, his ego satisfied when he feels you succumb to his touch. And when he releases with a pop, a coat of his saliva glistening on your areola, he can’t help but salivate when he thinks about how pretty your cunt will also glisten with his spit as your cum drips down his chin.

“You’re such a liar.” you tugged on his hair, bucking your hips to get more friction against his hands.

“Don’t you know me so well,” chuckling as he placed tender kisses to your chest, reaching up your collarbone and to your jaws, watching your expressions change from expectancy to frustration as he teased to put his finger in, “baby, yes or no?”

Glaring at him, you pulled him closer, “I hate you—” your voice hitched when he pushed two fingers in, slightly opening his mouth to release a moan as he watched your head being thrown back and chest huffing at the sudden penetration, immediately placing his vacant hand behind your head so you wouldn’t get hurt.

“Aw, you’re going to hurt my feelings,” a sly smile crept over his face, his mellifluous voice making you clench on his finger. his hand brings your head down to see his fingers connecting with your pussy, the slick of your erection making erotic noises behind the muffled voices from the movie.

“but you hear that?” His long fingers slowly entered frustratingly in and out of your hole, twisting as the tip of his middle and fourth fingers arched to brush against your sweet spot, the gushes of your viscous juice being embarrassingly loud as you hid your face in the crook of his neck, arms thrown around him, “heh you love me so much.” 

It’s always just to get the edge off from the day’s stress. 

And it’s never quick with Satoru unless it was the risque office sex he liked to have recently or when he thrived off a fast run in goddamn random places. But mostly it was a couple of rounds at a minimum.

Other times, you were kneeling in between his thighs, your fingers linked under his waistband, pulling down his gray sweats — his bulge deliciously accentuated in it. A soft whine releases when you feel a knot in your stomach and a familiar aching in between your thighs as you lick your lips while palming his clothed member.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmured, scanning down from his face to his pelvis. 

your boyfriend worked hard for his body, proven by the thousands of pictures he sent you while at the gym or during his free time. mostly unsolicited photos that he strangely knew exactly when to send — during your meetings, during lunch, or just when you’re about to leave the office.

“Yea?” he murmured, kicking his sweats off his ankles, “or do you just like seeing me half naked in my sweats you love to eyefuck me with?”

Satoru had a talent, gifting to be exact, for looking so pretty — especially when his lids were half opened, his pink lips mildly caved open while his hands desperately touched you. With his defined adam’s apple bobbing, expectantly swallowing a wad of his spit as you kissed down his neck, tongue gently tickling his collarbone while you made your way down his firm chest, placing soft pecks on his skin as your hands soothed out his clenched abdominals.

“Hmm,” blowing on his member and placing a sweet kiss on his inner thigh, “both,” you hummed.

He’ll hiss when the cool air meets his semi-hardened cock, looking intently down as your small hands wrapped around his pretty shaft. His cerulean eyes lasciviously looking down at you while you played with his member, licking at his tip and stroking his length. His eyes soon roll back, his toned arms flayed while his hands clenched onto the back of the couch, his lids fluttering while he desperately rasped, feeling your sweet mouth sucking at his balls, “fuck, just like that angel… such a good girl.”

Usually, you’ll draw out his high. Hearing his hitched breaths and wonton moans as you swirl your tongue around his pulsing head, placing soft kitten licks and butterfly kisses down his length, holding his shaft and putting it against your cheek to have him see just how big he was. 

And only when you see his brows furrow, his hand making its way to the top of your head to gently yet impatiently push you down his length, that you’ll expand your mouth, and pull him in deeply to the base of your throat. 

He’ll guide your pace to just how he liked it, hips bucking into your mouth as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat and his neatly trimmed pubes tickled your nose. Hissing at how warm, soft, and just so right your tongue felt around his dick as his thumb gently massaged your jaws, cooing at how perfect you looked — satisfied that no matter how many times you’ve done this for him, it was still a struggle for you to take him in all three holes.

And on most Thursday nights, it doesn’t take him long to cum into your mouth. With his head thrown back as he gulped down his spit, the vein of his cock bulging more as you felt his shaft twitch in your hands. He’ll relentlessly shoot his warm seeds down your throat, his body hovering over you as he groans while gluttonously calling out your name — breathy and close to whimpers as he rode out his orgasm.

You’ll release his softened cock with a little pop when his chest starts to calm and you hear his graveled chuckle. tiredly smiling as you sweetly looked up at him, his eyes fucked as he gazed at the corner of your mouth still covered with remnants of his cum.

“here spit,” he’ll kindly offer his hand, voice groggy and deep. 

Satoru is a simple man when it comes to you. Because when you open up your mouth, showing him there was nothing left, he’ll feel his cock twitch again as he smiles. Groaning with his one hand wrapped around your jaw, just large enough to hold your face to easily maneuver. With your cheeks lightly smushed by his grip, he’ll arch down to praise you just before landing a kiss, “that’s my girl.” 

And on other occasions, he’ll have you laying on the couch, his fingers delicately spreading out your pussy while he swirled his tongue around your clit, his finger prodding inside you — one, two, occasionally three when you were really feeling it — his salacious eyes watching your body squirm and lip spread like an angelic ‘O’ as you moaned out ‘Toru’.

Call him a masochist but he loves the sharp pain of your fingers pulling at his hair as you come into his mouth. It makes his dick twitch to know he’s doing a fine ass job pleasing you. He’ll go on his hands and knees if it meant he could endlessly make you cum — in his mouth? Well, that was a cheeky bonus.  

He groaned as he lifted himself up, swiftly looking at the drops of your juices traveling down his forearm before he caged you back into his arms, his lips kissing you loosely while your hand immediately found refuge in his briefs. 

It wasn’t a surprise you still felt him hard — one round was never sufficient for a guy like him.

And in between kisses, as he tugged onto your lower lip, “did you feel good?” he’ll breathily mutter, being careful not to use his soiled hands to touch you, yet he’ll press further into your body wanting more of you.

“Mhm, always,” you’ll affirm as you breathe out, feeling him slightly tremble in your hold, “you okay, Satoru?” 

“Baby…” as he slightly pulled away to look at you, “I never came so fucking fast in my life,” he groaned while looking down, his enjoyment proved by the dark circular outline on the groin of his sweats, “i’m still fucking hard.” 

Aside from sex, Thursdays were supposed to be a routine. Get home, eat and wash up, enjoy a glass of wine or dessert, and warmly talk in each other’s company as you both looked forward to the next day after work — the weekly date night that Satoru thoughtfully planned.

Key word: supposed to.

This was supposed to be the usual for a typical Thursday night. 

So, how did you end up here — naked and sticky, with his hands pushing down your thighs to your chest, his long fingers pressing into your plush skin with eyes dark and carnal as his cock stretched you out fully in his bed with his hips pounding into you as his phone obnoxiously buzzed.

Well, it’s probably when you mentioned you would have a work meeting with a coworker after dinner, completely neglecting him — his Thursday routine with you.

“With who?” clenching his chopstick as he silently chewed on his rice, knowing just who you were about to say.

“Well,” cleaning your lips with a napkin, “Tanaka-san wanted me to go over the presentation with him for tomorrow.”

Satoru was sure he felt a vein pop when he heard his name. He was already upset that you were partnered with him for your upcoming project, he couldn’t possibly show his disapproval when you were so excited telling him all the little details you needed to prepare for. So he bit his tongue and let it bypass, forcing down his complaints because, “it’s just work, nothing more,” you cheerfully responded while combing through his hair, his arms wrapped around you as he pouted, “you’ll be with a guy?” 

He usually didn’t care who you were partnered with, just with fucking Tanaka-san he did — anyone but him.

The Tanaka-san that you talked so highly about. The one that always brought in an extra cup of coffee, because it just so happened that your favorite cafe near work would always mess up his order and give him a drink for free.

He’ll quickly text you, clicking his tongue in annoyance in his car, angrily shaking his legs as he stared daggers into the man.

>> baby! coffee and pastries are on me for you and your team ( : 

>> and don’t drink that.

<< satoru… go to work, he’s just a coworker.

<< … and you bought lunch for us yesterday.

>> what? :p can’t spoil my princess? Damn the world is such a heartless place now, my girlfriend won't even let me love her. 

&lt;;< Gojo Satoru.

>> heh… yes? That’s my name!

<< go to work, Ijichi-san is calling me.

>> a thank you will be nice. or even a kiss, i’m still here ( : 

Or when Satoru texts or calls during your lunch hours, the stupid Tanaka-san will always be in the photo or facetime, somehow always being mentioned that you were getting lunch with him. 

And fucking god, whenever he would pick you up from work, he’ll see right through his actions, when Satoru catches Tanaka-san’s eyes linger on you a little too long for just a normal co-worker basis. 

Fucking scrub, Satoru mentally cursed, the audacity of the guy to think he even had a chance with you. It took him eight years of pure agonizing delay, and there was no way he could top that. 

Satoru noticed your phone was set on the table. Vacant and unused as you absentmindedly walked off to get some water. You made it so easy for him. 

“Babe, I need to check something real quick, can I use your phone?” 

“Sure,” you mindlessly nodded away.

Your phone recognizing his face, he quickly scanned through your messages to send a text.

>> Tanaka-San, sorry but my phone is dead. Can you text this number instead? 03-xxxx-xxxx 

>> thanks ! ( :

&lt;;< sure! 

And before you came back, Satoru quickly pressed the messages with his thumb, quickly deleting any evidence.

“O-oh god,” panting while your fingers gripped onto the sheets, anything, to steady yourself as he rammed his cock into you.

“that’s the spot, yea?” throwing his head back, his hands now pressing at your waist, pulling your hips upward, allowing his cock to hit that very deep sweet spot only he can reach.

“you like it here right,” he growled, watching you with sweat dripping down his temple, his stomach deliciously flexed with every thrust he mercilessly pistoled his cock in.

“s-slow down! Youre gonna make me cum again,” you cried out, tears fanning your view.

Of course, he was, multiple times in fact. 

Most times, he’ll gently cradle you in his arms, fucking you gently before picking up his pace. Prepping you fully while you impatiently writhed in his arms, your pussy wet as he slapped his cock on your hardened bud. He wasn’t one to shy from being too rough, nor was he hesitant to be soft. He’ll always stay tuned to your emotions and place you before his own release, but today… the sight of you crying solely because of his cock gave him an ego boost — especially knowing a certain brat was waiting for your attention. 

Chuckling as he gave you a lascivious smile, the one that wasn’t his usual flirty nor sweet — the one that was onset with hunger and annoyance. 

“Then cum,” he mockingly ordered, the slapping of his hips meeting your ass harshly echoed. 

“it’s too much!” You cried out, your breasts bouncing with every thrust he made, barely making the words through the thick smell of sex and humidity in the room.

You weren’t sure if the sheer length of his cock entering deep inside you was stripping you of air, or the sudden match of his swollen lips on yours that made you feel suffocated. 

“Satoru! ngh” you gasped in between his passionate kisses, “I-it’s too deep!”

“Angel,” he whispered, his breath closely fanning over your hot cheeks as the rhythm of his hips firmly pressed in, his thrusts unforgiving as he watched you ricochet at the force. His hand now placed a little over the base of your tummy, “don’t you feel me? I’m right here, silly.” Emphasizing his last word with a taunting smile.

“but ‘Toru —” 

It was almost impossible but Satoru made it happen — he always did. Because within a split second, you felt his ass clench and balls slap firmly against your ass, groaning as his breath slightly hitched, “fuck you feel so good,” he rasped as his toned arms caged you in, leaving you no room but to face him, “you feel me, baby… this is how far I can go when I’m inside you, crazy isn’t it?”

Buzz! Buzz!

“fucking shit,” he cursed as his eyes shot to his phone, clicking his tongue in annoyance. Despite the little prank he pulled with your coworker, Satoru himself forgot who the recipient was as he mentally cursed at whoever was disrupting his time with you. 

Quickly switching positions, flipping you onto your stomach, pressing you down with his weight as all 7.2 inches of his cock throbbed inside you, he hooked his arms under your, clenching his ass while rutting in.

Buzz! Buzz!

“Y-your phone,” you moaned out as you felt your boyfriend swiftly pulsing in, the slapping of skin muffling the sound of his phone, “it keeps ringing fuckkk,” you pulled out a moan, “maybe it’s important ‘toru!”

“i swear if it’s Suguru,” Satoru spat through gritted teeth, “im gonna kick his ass.” his hand reached over to his phone, immediately rolling his tongue against his teeth. Squinting from the harsh light of his screen, nothing could tick him off more than seeing his name.

Scrub — aka Tanaka-san.

<< scrub (27 minutes ago)

hi! you asked me to text this number so I did! 

let me know when you’re free

<< scrub (15 minutes ago)

Hello, are you still up to facetime? 

<< scrub (8 minutes ago)

Let me know when you’re free! (: 

Also, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something…

<< scrub (2 minutes ago)

Are you there? Let me know if you’re okay.

I’m getting a little worried now…

<< missed call from scrub (10 seconds ago)

“Why the fuck is he over-exaggerating,” Satoru’s voice laced with venom, clearly pissed when he feels his phone vibrate again in his hands, the caller ‘Scrub’ not knowing when to quit.

“dumb fuck doesn’t know when to stop does he?” he hissed, throwing his phone to the side before giving him your attention again, pressing his member further in as he grunted at the weight of your walls falling plush to his length — fluttering and warm.

“w-who — ah!” you gasped when the tip of his head teasingly grazed against your sweet spot, struggling to breathe with the weight of your boyfriend on top of you.

“It’s no one,” Satoru chuckled, cupping your sweaty face as he pulled on your lower lip, “aw guess i’m not doing my job correctly,” his arms quickly moved to cage your legs to rest on his shoulders, making it so easy for him to breed you right then and there, “if you can think while i’m fucking you.”

“—ngh! It feels so so good, ‘Toru! More more!” 

“Yea, you like that?”   

Managing to get your arms around him, despite the pressing of your thighs on your chest, you whimpered while pulling him even further down, “mhm I love it, makes me so full…” 

Buzz! Buzz! 

“I fucking swear,” Satoru mentally chimed as he grasped for his phone, standing on his knees as he ran his wet hair through his fingers, showcasing his forehead as you watched his features highlighted through the screen light.

“Hurry…” you cooed, running your foot up his chest to play with his nipple,  smirking as you seductively bit your pinky when he hugged your thigh with one arm while he scrolled through his phone. His biceps perfectly curling against your calves.

The veins on his forearms bulging as his grip tightened against his poor device that he could easily break with how pissed he was getting.

At this point it wasn’t even the fucking scrub that irked him, it was the simple fact that this prick managed to get on his nerves.  

>> scrub

Please pick up, I hope everything is okay. 

“Turn around for me, daddy’s got some business,” his voice laced in humor yet his actions said otherwise. Before quickly sending a text, he ordered, “and get on your knees for me baby.”

“O-okay,” your obedience was so cute. Normally you would’ve picked a fight, not letting him get what he wanted so easily, but today you were rather submissive.

Getting on your knees, you felt his thighs spread out your legs further, his vacant hand kneading your bum as he ran the tip of his head against your wet cunt, pressing himself in slowly when his dick was felt nicely lubricated with your slick.

“Fuck…” he hissed through his teeth, watching his girth perfectly stretching you out from behind. 

Buzz. buzz. His phone vibrated in his hand.  

“Good girl, let me take this call real quick, it’s really important,” quickly pressing a kiss to your back.

Fastidiously looking back, your eyes round in panic, “wait Satoru are you serious right —”

He rammed his length into you, stifling you as he almost knocked the wind out of your chest.

“be quiet for me, yea? We’ve done this before,” he smirked, “just think it’s suguru on the line.”

“B-but this is different,” you panted while grasping hold of his pillow. It felt nice with Satoru’s scent covered all of it. Despite knowing this was wrong, how improper this was, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of eroticism in all of this — fucking while he was on a business call… what devil came over you.

And he, the epitome of the devil himself had the nerve to send you a wink as he flashed his canines in a smile, his cock bullying your cunt, “shhh,” he mouthed while placing a finger on his lips, “just be good for me and just take my cock, yea? Don’t want nobody hearing my baby.”

Quickly losing any resolve when he knowingly pushed deeper inside. “You pervert — Ah… just right there…” you softly mumbled, your body moving forward when he retracted back to meet him in the middle for a harsher impact.

Satoru loved to spread your ass, he swore he saw stars when he saw your wet cunt, your cute little hole, wrapped so tightly around him, his sheer size stretching your rim. 

“You love me,” Satoru cheekily responded before lightly biting your shoulder. And in that you did, no denying. And he knew that — fully, most entirely well. 

With adrenaline pumping through his blood, nothing could stop him from tearing this man up into pieces for even glancing at what was his.

“Hello,” Gojo’s voice was calm, his dilated cerulean eyes locked to the crevice of your ass where his cock slowly pulled out and entered back in to disappear.

“Gojo-san?” the other man questioned, briefly taking a second to respond, “Oh, I- I hope you’re well, Gojo-san.”

“I am, you seem rather disappointed it’s me,” Gojo joked, voice laced with sarcasm.

“No, never! I just didn’t expect —”

“Expect me to answer?” 

“well yes…”

You could barely hear the other line. You knew it wasn’t Ijichi-san, his voice was much higher in pitch. And it wasn’t Suguru, or else Satoru wouldn’t be so tense… nor would he give two fucks if his best friend could hear. 

“‘Toru,” you moaned, “who is it?” you softly muttered.

“Shhh, angel,” Gojo soothed, “ keep going just like that,” he guided with his free hand placed at the small of your back to pace your hip movements, “she’s a bit occupied right now.”

“Oh.. I see,” the man on the other line awkwardly responded, “do you know when she’ll be free?”

“Not sure,” your boyfriend hummed, though his voice was calm, his lower portion of his body wasn’t. Because when he felt you intentionally clench on his length, looking back with your face smushed on his pillow — so delicate, so needy — he felt the insufferable knot in the bottom of his stomach start to burn and his balls twitch.

Suddenly thrusting in, making your whole body jolt, shaking at the force of his head bumping against the familiar gushy spot, “Is it something I can help you with?”

“Are you sure? I’m sure you’re a very busy man and all —” Tanaka trailed on stating how grateful he would be, an honor if the Gojo Satoru could help, but it went through one ear and out the other for Satoru. 

“Mhm,” he mindlessly responded, “if you present that idea as your last point, giving multiple sources and data to prove it, i don’t find a reason why your boss won’t further finance your project.”

Looking at his phone to see a pdf file sent, quickly scanning over the details, “tidy up the numbers, I think your calculations are off on slide twelve.”

“Thank you, Gojo-san… uhm i-if i could ask one more question —”

“ ‘toru,” you mewled — you shouldn’t, you absolutely shouldn’t but you did knowing he’ll cave. Your boyfriend looked hot seeing him doing his work, talking in verbage that seemed so knowledgeable. And he was readily available — always.

“i wanna see you.”

“Hold up, can I keep you on hold for a brief moment,” Gojo stated, mindlessly pressing the mute button before he heard his response, throwing the phone to the side.

“Oh sure, that’s alright —”

His tongue swiped up from the base of your back as he grasped hold of your cheeks with one hand, pressing you down again into his favorite position. his hot breath seething to your ears as the only sounds aside for you both was the slapping of wet skin hitting eachother.

“Missed me?” he grins when he sees you nodding, “aren’t you a little naughty for distracting me.”

Normally you would scoff at his teasing banters, rolling your eyes as you listened to Satoru try with his questionable choice of words. He still had a childish habit of thinking you both were still young, freshly in your late teens as you both explored your sexual fantasies. 

It was laughable, really. A man calculative and deemed honorable to society was nothing but a child that whined for your attention. 

And this same man did rather unexplainable things to you. Like leaving you breathless with his love and how he served you as his lover, to the way he fucked you senseless, leaving you babbering and writhing for more.

The wonton groans echoed in the room fuzzies your mind, oftentimes making it hard to expand your lungs to inhale.

“breathe, focus on me,” he guided you — noticing you were struggling, noticing you were awfully close.

The familiar clench of your inner walls wrapping against his cock as he pushed deeper in, his breathing halts for a brief moment while his feet dug into the mattress, his ass clenching with every thrust. 

“I’m so so close, ‘toru—‘m gonna….gonna—”

“I know, me too,” he groans while biting your shoulder, letting out a sweet gasp that leaves you shivering in his arms, “just give me a little more, yea?”

“Yes! Yes, more — need m-more!”

“Squeeze a little for me,” he gathers your thighs to create more friction for his cock to pass through your entrance. And immediately you clenched your thighs, knowing just how he liked it.

“just like that, squeezing me so tight,” he murmured while kissing your back.

You know he’s close. It’s in the way his sloppy thrusts, and his pace lacked his usual tempo. The girth of his voice stammering as his thumb firmly pressed against your clit, shoving his hand underneath you to rub circles like it was the most imperative thing for him to do besides holding his high just until he could spill his seeds into your dripping cunt after you reached your high. 

“s— ‘toru.” youre close too. He can feel it in the way you call out his name. The way your walls fluttered and your slick made his cock every so easily penetrate inside you.

You were perfect — just like this, with no interference, with no Tanaka san — just you and him connected as one.

Was it naughty? Hell yea, and he loved every second of it.

But was keeping your coworker on hold while he fucked you a good idea? Probably not. You’ll most likely chew his ear off if you ever heard of this.

But, maybe it was the hormones raging inside him talking or he seriously didn’t give two cents about that scrub, but he thinks he heard something muffled through the covers, the culprit being his phone.

Maybe it was the notification for your period tracker? Guess it would be around this time it alerted him.

It could be Ijichi begging for him to respond to his email saying it was urgent — nothing was more urgent than this. 

Oh well, whatever it was guess that’ll be future Satoru's problem.

“Please —’m close, ‘toru l-let me hold you,” you whined. 

“Kay turn around for me,” quickly lifting himself, just enough so he could angle his cock swiftly in without much effort.

“You okay?” he lets out a chuckle when he sees your messy state — it’s beautiful, makes him want to bother you even more.

“Satoru, i think you literally fucked a baby inside me this time —” instead of finishing your statement, you ended up gasping. Pulling him closer, back arching and eyes rolling as your boyfriend ignorantly drove himself in, bullying your pussy while splitting you in half as the coil in your stomach inevidenatly snaps with his force. 

This time? Well… it’s laughable — your innocence. 

“Oh sweetheart,” firmly pinning down your hips, pushing down with his chest pressed down upon your breasts, his arms securely caging you in — locking in his prey, licking his lips just ready to devour. It was easy to miss the intent of his words, his voice for a moment tender and sweet contrasted to his cock pistoling mercilessly into your abused cunt, “that’s the point of fucking.”

The familiar pain he felt on his back, mildly stinging from a sweat, felt all too euphoric and sinful, yet his eyes ran to the back of his head in pure bliss.

The tugging of your arms against the ends of his hair, pulling you closer to your body despite the desperate cries requesting that he slow down… he knew you all too well to do anything else but listen to you.

Because just as he predicted, you gasp. Your walls spasm and your body shivers. The heat in your tummy that’s been threatening its release finally fires. With your eyes rolled back, you cum — hard with a warm liquid leaking out of your swollen cunt.

Nothing can send him off the edge more than him watching you reach your high. So when he sees you tensing and murderously clenching on his cock, the heat of your high running down his inner thighs, his bedsheets drenched in fluid, a similar gasp befalls his lips. 

His voice cracks while muttering something incomprehensible as his arms tighten their grip around your body, his hips rutting desperately into you.

“Cum for me pretty,” you purred — eyes dazed and tired, yet holding on till the end. 

And then he snaps. Hiding his face into the crook of your neck, desperately holding onto you as he pulls in a final thrust, his hot seeds shooting straight inside and his balls coiling inside the sac. 

His voice was filled with so much desperation. His moans echoeing, verberating through the halls. 

“Shit this pussy does wonders,” he groans with his jaw clenched, “keep it all in, all of it for me,” he rasped before smothering his lips with yours. 

Satoru moans while kissing you. Rocking his hips loosely back and forth into you, your mind feeling dizzy — maybe at the thought of his cum being pushed further in, or that he fucked you so full. 

He shivered a bit, he always did post-cum. Clinging onto you without any resolve to get down.

“You’re heavy,” giving him a hug while placing soft kisses against his cheeks.

“I’ll get off in a minute,” he whined while placing your hand on his head, “little more like this.”

Giggling as you scratched at his scalp, “can you wash me up —” 

“Hello? G-gojo san…” there was a muffle in between his sheets.

What the hell was that? Until you remembered — “Oh my fucking god Satoru!” you panicked, immediately pushing him off you, your partner immediately groaning when his clock slipped out of your warmth. He couldn’t help but take a peak if it’ll spill out — and it did, a shining puddle of his cum slowly pooling in his sheets… drip by drip out of your pretty cunt — god he wanted to stuff it back in.

“Your phone!” you whispered while quickly wrapping yourself with his sheets — as if that’ll undo what he did.

“you left him on hold!” 

“It’s your fault,” he groaned as he shifted his body to lie on his back, pulling himself up to lean against the backboard. It creaked a bit. Did he fuck you that hard? Impossible. 

“What?” you stupidly looked at him, brows furrowed at his audacity to blame you.

Well if your pussy wasn’t so good, he thought while begrudgingly picking up the phone, maybe he wouldn’t have completely forgotten about the prick that was on the other line.

“hey sorry, bout that,” Satoru grunted while wiping off the excess cum on his dick with a tissue.

He couldn’t remember if he pressed the unmute button, but couldn’t care less if he did. 

“T-that’s alright,” the other line sounded off, almost uncomfortable.

“You need anything else?”

“Uhm… no, that’s okay, uh… have a good night, sir.”

Sir? What the fuck was with the honorifics all of a sudden…

“Well you too, good night. And oh, don’t bring coffee anymore, that’s my job.”

— next morning.

“Remind me the next time you decide to fuck me on a work day” the ache in between your legs causing your voice to be laced with venom as you swirled your instant coffee, “that I cut your dick off.”

“But it felt good no?” your partner scoffed through the line, “and aren’t you the one that, I quote, ” sarcastically clearing his voice “‘toru harder! Harder, satoru harder! I’m so full! Cum inside —”

“Gojo satoru,” your voice panning, “yes maam,” your boyfriend immediately straightened after hearing his full name. 

“So… i’ll pick you up later tonight —” Satoru tested his waters only to be cut off when he heard a familiar voice on the other line. 

“Hello —” 

What the fuck. 

“Oh! Tanaka-san,” you chirped, “good morning! Coffee?” you offered to make him a cup.

“No thank you…”

“Well, I was waiting for your call last night, how come you didn’t call?”

“Sweets?” Satoru called out successfully getting your attention.

“Oh sorry, one moment.” apologetically smiling to your coworker, “hey baby, call you later! I’m with Tanaka-san! Bye!” you ended the call before hearing your boyfriend’s response. 

“Uhm…” your coworker nervously played with his thumbs, “yea… about that… c-can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yes, is everything okay?” you worriedly asked. 

“Of course, I —” letting out a frustrated sigh, “I think there was a little misunderstanding.”

“Of?” you questioned, pursing your lips in confusion.

“I… I think your boyfriend —” catching himself with his error, “sorry… Gojo san misconstrued my actions for something else,” the poor man murmured.

“I’m sorry, Tanaka-san, I don’t seem to follow…” 

“I called him yesterday while —” stopping himself from continuing with the thought, “and I promise it wasn’t because of what he presumed it to be, and I won’t tell a soul about what happened,” the man continually stammered, his face becoming increasingly pale while anxiously rubbing his hands together, “i..i — i thought it would be nice to get some tips about how to pursue a lady, b-but I think I overstepped my boundaries.”

“You called him?” unsure when they both exchanged numbers — maybe it was when Satoru picked you up a drunken night from a company dinner. 

Tanaka-san was kind. He always held these gentle eyes that always seemed to calm anyone’s soul from just being around him. He would shyly pass you a morning coffee while he held another for someone else — Yamada-san, the one he’s been secretly crushing on since the day of her transfer two years ago. The Tanaka-san that would walk two steps behind you just so he could see if his crush dropped anything from her purse — a tendency she can’t quite fix because he’ll always be mindful of her.

You knew of his crush, and you wished to help him all that more. 

But right now, his eyes were filled with embarrassment and anxiety as he talked to you — it was unfamiliar and cold.

“Do you want to talk this through over lunch?” you cheerfully invited, trying your best to fill the awkward tension between you both — more so, the guard he had with you. 

“No!” flinching as he walked back, “Sorry, I think I should go,” Tanaka-san looked away, gulping as he started to walk in the other direction, “I-I think I’ll get lunch on my own today, sorry.”

“Wait — tanaka-san!” you called out, your surrounding coworkers oddly looking at you while passing by.

“Well that was weird,” you murmured, crossing your arms while leaning against the breakroom wall. You couldn’t say his actions hurt you because you couldn’t understand why he would be so suddenly defensive with you, but it did leave an unshakeable impression that you knew one person would have the answer to. 

Confused, you decided it was best to ask the potential culprit himself.

>> So… why did Tanaka-san just apologize to me about you misunderstanding something? Saying that he shouldn’t have called you last night?

<< oh… about that?

>> oh god what did you do?

<< well…

<< i might’ve forgotten to click the mute button :p ….

author's comment: idk what comes over me when i write smut for him. it just fleshes out to long fics when they weren't meant to be this long. But anyways… I hope you all enjoyed as much as i love writing for him!!!!

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 15

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, teeny tiny lactation kink, Joel being real cute with a baby is it's own warning

A/N: ❤ thank you one million times over to @the-scandalorian who always give the best feedback and advice, to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who is always the most supportive and a special shout out to @mrsquill whose advice and perspective was much needed, being the big beautiful brain she is.

--

Joel picks his way through the woods, brushing aside the sprawling branches that reach out to catch his shirt. A small bundle tucked against his chest in a makeshift carrier, he’s got one hand splayed across it, protectively shielding it. His boots crunch over fallen twigs, and from within the folds of fabric, June’s dark eyes look up.

Flitting between staring at him and the contrast of the treetops as she takes in the surroundings, dapples of sunlight shift and play across her small face, light catching the swirls of her dark brown curls. When she starts squirming, Joel looks down and smiles at her. 

“You ready to get up, baby girl?”

Shifting her in the wrapped sling to face his chest instead of lying down, he makes sure she’s secure before he continues, giving her his thumb to hold onto. Her tiny, chubby hand wraps halfway around it and letting her squeeze it, he strokes the soft skin on the back of her hand. 

Carefully placed steps to avoid tripping on anything, his boots follow his normal hunting path, only this time he’s not hunting: he’s taking her for their daily walk. 

Starting as something he’d hoped would calm her down during her early days, he’s taken to walking all over the place with her while you nap in the afternoons. Never far enough that he couldn’t get back quickly if he needed to, they’ve explored every inch of the woods surrounding the cabin. Sometimes she’s fussy, sometimes she’s still, and sometimes - like today - she’s alert and awake, lifting her head off his chest to peek at the world around her. 

“You hear that, baby girl? You hear that bird singin’ to you?”

He talks to her without even realizing it, a constant, soothing murmur. 

His lips brush the downy crown of her hair, dragging back and forth just to feel the tickle of softness and he presses a kiss there, turning back towards home. 

Home. 

He’d begun calling it that while talking out loud to her and then kept saying it, because it was true. This was his home, and hers, and yours. One that, even though summer had begun and she was now here, had become impossible to leave. 

He had agreed to stay until she was born, but with every day that passed, he couldn’t bring himself to move forward with the plan. Days had slid together, weeks blurring as he helped care for her while you healed and he knew you wouldn’t be able to make the trek then, so he said nothing. Another month passed after that, and he thought about it - he really did - but couldn’t quite reconcile the concept of a potential threat with the present sense of safety. The danger that had seemed so immediate and imminent and threatening had faded into the background, giving way to the quiet routine of life, and the three of you continued on. 

The map was still in the cabin, as a reminder of what was waiting out there, but so were other things:

Her, in her cradle in the corner of the room along with the pillowcase that she’s taken to sleeping with, in lieu of a baby blanket. 

You, on the living room floor, your smile blinding as you stretched out next to her wriggling body in the afternoons. 

Her basket on the edge of your garden: you working, her small fists stretching and flexing towards the sky, visible just over the wicker rim. 

For someone who had little to no experience with it, you’d taken to motherhood like you’d done it all before. The birth, nursing, adjusting to a new sleep schedule, learning what every one of her cries meant and just how to soothe it. A seemingly deep reserve of patience held within you, your constant resourcefulness when it came to everything you had both on hand and inside yourself, he finds he loves you even more than he did before. 

Constantly impressed and humbled by this new version of you emerging right in front of him, he tries to let you both know how he feels in his own, wordless ways: referring to and respecting your knowledge and guidance when it comes to planting, delicate brushes of his hand on the small of your back while you talk with him in the kitchen, stopping you while you do chores to guide your mouth to his in a kiss of appreciation. Rocking June to sleep when she wakes, washing her clothes in the river, taking her for walks. 

So accustomed to thinking of his own body as a weapon, spending years using it as a means of protecting those he loves, he’s found an entirely new use for it right alongside yours: familiar, tender motions he thought were lost coming to the surface. 

Emerging from the woods, the familiar slope of your land comes into view and he makes his way down to the edge of the water. His boots sink into the soft give of the sand, a trail of impressions left behind him, and he drops down to a crouch before fully sitting down. Unwinding the fabric tied around his shoulder, he gently eases June out of the carrier. 

Delicate yet steady in his hold on her, he props his forearms on his knees and lifts her so they are face to face. 

“How much did you sleep last night?” he asks, a deep frown settling between his brows. Dark bags show under his eyes, and she wriggles in his grip, her legs kicking. 

“Felt like you didn’t sleep at all. Keepin’ us up all night with your fussin’.” 

She pays no mind to the stern look on his face, the gentle tone of his words in contrast with their scolding, and his lips brush against her cheek, her mouth opening to chase his with a babbling, wet sound. 

“You’re cute, baby girl, but you ain’t that cute. You gotta let us sleep.”

She lets out a soft cry, and he chuckles. 

“Okay, I take it back. You are that cute.”

They look at each other for a moment, her small, dark eyes studying his larger ones and a familiar glint of hazel captures his breath for a moment, his heart seizing. 

Identical to Sarah’s color, the likeness flits through them almost faster than he can catch it, though it doesn’t stop him from staring intently at June in hopes of it coming back. She blinks and looks away, her body flexing in a stretch.

“I saw you,” he says quietly, to himself.

June’s eyes come back to him at the sound of his voice, and the corner of his mouth lifts. 

“I think your big sister was just sayin’ hi, pretty girl.”

Impossible to ignore since the moment she came into the world and he caught her in his hands, he saw Sarah in June all the time. Every day: sometimes in her eyes, in her expressions, in her movements. He knew June was her own being, a mixture of himself and you that he loved. His eyes, the shape of your face. His dark hair, your smile. But when he caught glimpses of Sarah in her, he immediately chased the fleeting image before he could think about how much it would hurt to see it. Another chance to see her again, at any cost. 

Introducing the memory of Sarah to June as her “big sister,” a burden was lifted from his chest the day he started speaking about her. With nothing but the solitude of the woods around them and her tiny ears to hear his words, once he started, he couldn’t stop. 

Years of buried memories, of guilt, of confessions and apologies as his heart ached recounting the things he’d done. All of them laid bare to June, who absorbed them with quiet fascination at the low, rumbling voice of her father. The words meaningless to her and received without the judgment of someone who would actually understand what he was saying, everything came pouring out. 

Everything he’d done, everything he regretted, everything he missed. 

Once those were let out into the world, he focused on the good: Sarah’s love for soccer, for animals, her stubborn streak that matched his own. Her sense of humor, her girliness, vacations they took and their time spent together. 

Emerging from the depths he’d buried it under long ago, Sarah’s memory grew stronger every day and he was surprised to find that it hurt… less than it used to. Something he used to avoid due to the sheer pain that would come alongside the memories, he now seeks them out, to relive them in a new light. Basking in this second chance with her, he looks forward to seeing her in any way she appears in this life. 

“You think your momma’s up yet?” he asks. “Or should we give her a little bit more time?”

He waits for an answer he knows isn’t coming, but he studies June’s face like it is, eventually answering himself with a nod.

“More time, I think. You’re right.” 

Turning her to face the water, he places her in his lap and with sunlight flooding the bank, they sit and look at the water together. 

–

You feel as though you could sleep forever. 

Your heavy eyes blinking open, you stay in place and listen. Silence, which means they must still be out and rolling onto your side, you sink deeper under the thin quilt. Exhaustion blankets you, pulling your eyes shut. 

Tired. So tired, more tired than you’ve ever been in your life. He catches naps whenever he can, seemingly able to fall asleep for a moment whenever and wherever in the way older men do, but not you. Your mind is a constant whirring machine of what needs to be done next and it takes forever to turn off, but last night she was up for ages, and so when he told you to take a nap, you crashed as soon as your head hit the pillow. 

Your face brushing the cool cotton of his pillowcase, you bury your nose into it, inhaling. A need flickers to life inside you, slowly unfurling under the heaviness of your limbs and you wish he was lying in bed with you right now. 

In the morning sometimes when she’s in her cradle, you tuck your face into the crook of his neck and breathe deeply, letting your lips catch the edge of his whiskers. When you seek out his skin, he rolls to face you with still closed eyes but finds you just the same. 

Still, they are kisses that only awaken, never slake. Early morning sleep soft kisses. Warm skin under wandering hands, until she cries. Never any time to linger in the morning, you can still taste the firm press of his mouth against yours if you try hard enough and the memory of yesterday slips into your sleep-hazed mind, the edges fuzzy and soft. 

“What’s this for?”, you hummed, leaning back into him. 

His mouth rested on your neck, his lips molding to the slope of it. One kiss, another and his tongue slipped out, tasting your skin.

“Jus’ missed you. Thinkin’ about you.”

“Oh yea? What were you thinking about?”

He kissed your neck again, letting his mouth rest just under your ear. “ ‘Bout the other night.”

The other night: when he held his hand over your mouth and worked you with his fingers over your soaked panties until you came with a broken cry, right before kneeling next to you on the bed to watch you jerk him to completion onto your stomach. Afterwards, he smeared it around and you licked the spend from his fingers. 

“That was nice,” you smiled, turning to face him. Threading your fingers through his curls, you offered your mouth to him and he took it, his own need apparent in the way it moved against yours—telling and deep. 

Just the two of you for so long before June came along, it felt good to be reminded that he still wanted you like that: as a woman, instead of just a mother. The new role unfamiliar and flooded with a constant rollercoaster of shifting emotions, it was hard to navigate this version of yourself, and even harder to articulate those emotions into words. Joy like you’ve never known blended with bone weary exhaustion and pain. A fierce need to prove to yourself that you could do this, while still wanting him to take the lead. A new found self-pride laced with frustration and sadness and an ache for the way your relationship used to be. 

All of these emotions, fading away to be replaced by a happiness you never thought possible whenever you looked at June. 

He’s helped you navigate it all, just like he’s always helped you navigate: the group when you had one, dangerous routes when you used to take them, this new life when you made the suggestion. Jackson, should he ever bring it up again. The possibility of leaving was something you hoped every day that he’d forgotten about, but you didn’t dare bring up the subject in case he hadn’t. You weren’t ready. Not yet. 

With the idea of sleeping on the hard ground making the comforting cloud of your bed hard to leave, you eventually rise and peek out the window in search of them. The broad expanse of his back sits down by the water, and you see him lift her to face him, murmuring words you can’t hear. 

A delicacy to his touch and another side to his competence that you’d never have seen without her, Joel Miller the dad was someone you felt lucky to witness, but the thought of Joel Miller the man was the one that had your eyes lingering on his shoulders and the flex of his biceps under the material of his shirt.

Recalling his kiss from earlier that morning, you walk out of the room to go greet them.  

–

“How old are you going to be when she’s ten?”

He groans, closing his eyes. “Christ, don’ ask me that.”

You giggle, and he peeks an eye open at you. 

“Your daddy is gonna be wearin’ diapers soon,” you coo down at June, and he’s quick with his reply. 

“Who says I don’t already?”

Your playful giggle turns into a full laugh. 

“Smart-ass,” he grumbles, a good natured grin at the edge of his lips. 

He leans back into the worn couch, letting his head tilt to the side as he watches the two of you on the floor in front of him. The days getting longer with the time of year, evening sunlight streams in through the windows you washed earlier that day and its rays fill the room with enough light to see. The windows open, a breeze flows through. 

Rolling from your side onto your stomach, his gaze drifts from the curve of your cheek to the small round of your shoulder, to the wide open expression of pure contentment and love on your face as you coo a soothing murmur of nonsense down at June. She eats it up, her limbs kicking in jerky, excited movements in her splay on her back and she is transfixed by your face, alert and focused.

Filled with gratitude, he’s silent for a moment as he just…watches. 

Your finger dangles over June’s grasping hand until she takes it and wiggling it with a smile and a tease, you take it from her and dance your fingers down her belly, tickling. Her tiny body kicks in response, never ceasing in its movement. 

An overlay of his shitty QZ apartment blankets the room, and he immediately rejects the image, knowing you don’t belong there. The concrete he's slept on and the endless things he’s done to survive flood his mind and a simultaneous reaction wars within him: guilt, at the idea he doesn’t deserve this life after everything he’s done, and the answering fierce urge to defend it, making sure no one ever takes it away from him. 

“You thinking about it?”

Your question drags him to the present, and he frowns. 

“Leaving,” you clarify. You look down, your expression turning solemn. “You were quiet for a while,” you say quietly. “I thought maybe you finally remembered.”

Reading the tone in which you deliver your hesitant statement as dreading something inevitable, he’s honest in his reply in hopes to soothe you.  

“No,” he says. “I actually haven’t thought about it in awhile. Not seriously, anyway.”

Your eyes lift to meet his and the hope you’re trying to conceal in your expression almost breaks him. 

“You were right,” he continues. “We got the garden up and runnin’, got everything all setup like we like. Got a safe place for her.” His chin tilts towards June, her fists flailing in exploration until you catch one in your hold. 

“And if someone comes?” you broach hesitantly.

His jaw shifts, his eyes drifting down to June. “If someone comes, I’ll deal with ‘em.”

He will.

There is a finality in his tone, even if he isn’t sure it’s a promise he can make, but it feels right saying out loud. You belong here, she belongs here and he can’t let anyone take that away, not even himself. 

You say nothing, searching for the truth on his face and when you find it, the edge of your mouth lifts in disbelief. 

“Joel Miller, the optimist,” you tease. 

Because of you, he immediately thinks. Instead, he teases right back. 

“What, you think I can’t?” 

You huff a laugh, rolling your eyes. Your playful expression faltering after a moment, your attention shifts to June and a telltale trembling of your lip catches his eye as you avoid his gaze. Knowing you’re purposefully not looking at him because you’re self conscious about how easy it is to make you cry after June’s birth, he leans forward and drops down to join you on the floor. 

“Hey,” he says softly, crawling over and reaching out over her body to grasp your chin. “Hey now.”

You let him guide your face to his, and he sees he's right. A tear rolls smoothly down your cheek and his frown softens with his voice. 

“I would never let anything happen to you, honey. Either of you.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you start, your breath shuddering. You swallow and then surprise him with a watery laugh. “I’m not – I’m not scared of that. I’m just –” you sniffle again, blinking free another tear. “I’m just so happy.”

A sob breaks free on the last word and the contrast of your statement with your reaction makes him laugh, which in turn makes you laugh through another sob. Then, a new sound blends into it from beneath the two of you, one that makes you both stop. 

“Did she just –” your breathing hitches, and you look from her to him. “Did she just laugh?”

The first time it’s ever happened, she does it again when you laugh in astonished, watery joy and it only makes you sob harder, tucking your face into the crook of your elbow. 

“She’s laughin’ at you,” he chuckles, splaying his hand wide over her belly, grinning down at her with deep dimples.

Taking a deep breath and wiping your eyes on your sleeve, you smile down at June. 

“Your daddy is gonna let us stay,” you say to her, your voice thick with tears and joy as you sniff again.

“Only ‘cause your momma has made us such a good home.”

Teasing words covering true, deep emotions, he looks at you and with tears still clinging to your wet lashes, he thinks you might be one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. So much love shines through your gaze that the intensity of it is almost overwhelming, but he doesn’t look away. He meets it, unwavering.

“Joel,” you start, slipping your hand over his where it still rests on her belly, covering it with a squeeze. “If you ever want to go, I’ll go. I’d follow you wherever. Here, Jackson, somewhere else. Anywhere else. I trust you.”

Not trusting himself to speak without his voice breaking, he just lifts the corner of his mouth and nods before bending his head to press a kiss to the back of your hand. 

A silent devotional action, to the one who has given him everything. 

Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you go back to trying to make June laugh and he watches the two of you from his place on the floor, stretched out alongside you. 

How could he leave? 

—

Attempting to summon the courage while tugging at the silken fabric to make sure it covers all the parts of yourself that you are unsure of, you stare at your reflection in the mirror; his low singing voice coming from June’s room. 

All day, you’ve secretly ached for him. 

A fire ignited every time you saw him with her: holding her, cradling her, one hand across her chest as she slept next to him on the couch while he read. And without: the short, dark strands of hair at the nape of his tanned neck, the little slice of skin above the waistband of his jeans that peeked out when he crouched. His thick forearms, his firm thighs. 

An ache that had been present since you woke up this morning, you’ve missed the man he is: his body, his skillful touch, his masculine, solid form moving against yours. A while since she’s gone down this early, you want to take advantage of the gift of time and show him how much you’ve missed him…but there is still a slight insecurity about this changed body of yours. 

Smoothing your hands over the lace that rests over your cleavage as you look some more, the soft scuff of his boots across the floor as he enters the bedroom has you immediately second guessing, quickly turning for your robe. 

“She went down okay,“ he says tiredly, scrubbing his hand down his face. He tugs his shirt off with a one handed hold behind his back, kicking off his boots while unbuckling his jeans. Shucking them off to drape them over the chair in the corner, he looks up at your silence. 

Frozen in front of him, your hands clutch the robe together. 

“You okay?” he asks, his tired expression knit with concern.

“That was quicker than I thought.”

He huffs, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not complain’.”

“Neither am I, I just –” your hands fiddle with the thick material, your teeth tugging on your bottom lip. “I just wasn’t ready for you.”

Studying your face, he tilts his head up, lifting an eyebrow. “Ready for me?” His eyes drop down your body, his posture straightening with interest. “You got somethin’ under there?”

You hesitate for a moment. “Turn out the light first?”

His eyes darken at your answer and he slowly leans to the side, reaching to turn the lantern down. The room descends into a shadowed version of itself, everything bathed in dim warmth and he settles back into position, waiting. 

Taking a deep breath and feeling braver in the darkness of the room, you open the robe and let it fall to the floor. 

“What’s all this?” he asks, his husky drawl low and slow.

Stepping between his thighs, you take his larger hand in your smaller one and place it over your side, encouraging him to touch. He splays his fingers, searching for the heat of your skin through the thin material and gliding his hold up until his thumb drags lightly across your nipple, his eyes watch as it pebbles under the silk. Arching slightly into his touch, he takes your lead and tenderly palms the weight of your breast. 

Hooded, his eyes stay fixed on his hand. “Where did you get this?”

“I found it months ago,” you reply, your tone breathy and warm from the delicate brush of his fingertips over the fabric. 

He hums, letting his hand drag down your sternum with weighted exploration, curling firmly around your hip to pull you closer. 

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” he asks in disbelief, immediately looking up at you. He bunches the silk in his fists, pulling it tight against your body. His throat bobs, his tongue dragging across his bottom lip as his eyes make a circuit down the length of you and back up.

“My pretty girl, all dressed up for me. How could I not?”

Bending down for a kiss, you place your hands on his shoulders and the hunger in the way he presses his mouth against yours betrays every thought running through his mind. Suddenly more awake than he seemed, he can’t stop shifting his hold on you: his mouth taking and taking, while his hands touch everything he can reach. 

When they get to the hem of the nighty and pull it up over your ass, he groans into your mouth when he finds nothing but bare skin underneath. 

“Nothin’ underneath? You’re such a good fuckin’ girl,” he breathes against your mouth, right before capturing it again in a devouring kiss. Leaving you breathless, he follows the column of your throat with a whiskery scrape of his beard against your skin, and works his way down, his humid breath ghosting over the tops of your breasts as he gives every inch of skin he finds an open mouthed kiss. 

Slipping the shoulder strap down, the fabric falls away and he takes your nipple into his mouth immediately.  Letting out a low moan with a pinched frown of pleasure, his eyes close and he draws from you: his hand coming up to cradle the underside of your breast, pushing more into his mouth as he swirls his tongue over the sensitive peak. His other hand digs into the curve of your hip, keeping you in place. Holding on, like you’re the anchor. 

Your fingers bury themselves in his soft curls, and he groans. Pulling back, a glimmer of something white is smeared on his lower lip, and his tongue darts out to taste the drop of liquid. 

“Takin’ care of my baby, with this perfect fuckin’ body.”

Soaked in worship, his words have you climbing onto his lap as he guides you in place and gathering you into his arms, he tugs your knee up to force you into a straddle over his thighs. Deepening his kiss with an inviting, slick slide of his tongue against yours, a low hum pours out of your throat and you grind against him, seeking the warm heft between his thighs until he shifts and rolls you onto your back, laying you out underneath him. 

His humid breath consumes you, the scent of his skin filling your senses. The firm rounds of his shoulders bunch under your touch, his biceps flexing in their strain as he moves above you and his solid torso presses against yours, forcing you into the mattress. His mouth never ceases and neither does yours, every part of your bodies seeking the other out to move in a mimic of the act itself and winding your legs around his waist, he grinds himself against you until you’re whiny and restless underneath him, your cunt slick and soaked against his cotton briefs. When you start to shove them down his hips, he helps. 

Tugging them down and kicking them off, his cock drags along the inside of your thigh when he lowers himself back over you. 

“I need you inside me,” you moan, reaching for him. “I want it.”

“Yea? You want my cock?”

“I’ve wanted it all day. All day while I’ve watched you.”

His hand joins yours to guide him to your aching entrance, and when the thick, rounded tip of his cock starts to make room for itself, you let out simultaneous groans of relief when he slides in. A singular smooth, filling and fluid stroke, all the way to the base. 

“God yes, just like that,’ you plead, and he’s quick to soothe. 

“Shhhh, it’s okay, my girl. I got you. I got you.”

Your mind already lost in a haze of need, the whole-body relief you feel is intoxicating, and yet his fullness inside you is only half of what you want. You want to feel desired, like he wants you just as bad as you’ve wanted him and to feel it, you know you need his roughness. The harder edges of his lust, the ones he’s been holding back from you since you gave birth. 

You want to taste desperation in his kisses, to feel it in his hold, to have him force it into the slick fist of your cunt because he just can’t help it - and you get what you want the second he starts moving. 

“I can’t believe you wore this for me,” he breathes above you, his hand catching the edge of the silk to pull it down and expose both your breasts. He watches them bounce for a moment, moving with every thrust of his hips and then he bends to latch his mouth onto one, the hard suction of it making you moan. Cradling the back of his head, you push yourself into the sensation. 

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, and all mine. All for me. Ain’t that right?”

His hips rock against yours, the tip of his cock sliding against that deep spot that’s been aching for him all day and you push your head back into the pillow, forcing your hips up to meet every one of his downward strokes.   

“God yes,” you pant. “All yours. Only yours.”

“S’fuckin right. My girl. Lookin’ this pretty just for me.”

He brings his mouth down next to your ear as his hips keep moving. “Pussy this wet, just for me.”

You nod, and fitting his face into your neck, he rewards you an open mouthed kiss laced with a groan. He sucks at your skin, his teeth dragging over your pulse and then his mouth finds yours, forcing it open just like he’s forcing you open to take everything he’s giving. Every weighted stroke, every full push inside. 

You like his words, but you like this just as much: when he’s so focused on how you feel around him and underneath him that he can’t speak, and you get to swallow his harsh pants and low grunts instead. 

Your thighs hitch higher around his torso, your ankles resting on his back and you can feel his muscles shift and flex under your heels, working, working, working. The intensity of your release builds, a fire that’s been banked all day finally being stoked brighter and hotter and he picks up his pace, his arm pushing underneath your back to hook his hand around your shoulder, keeping you in place beneath him. Buried under the weight of his body, you relish being used. 

Still just as sensitive as when you were pregnant, fast - so fast - you feel the first ripple of your oncoming release wash over your skin. 

“You’re gonna make me come,” you plead, trying to keep quiet. 

“Come on, honey,” he encourages it, pressing a thick kiss just under your ear. “Lemme feel it.”

Everything tightening between your hips, a syrupy warmth fills the bowl of your pelvis until it’s too intense and overwhelming and filling — and then it bursts bright and wet, your thighs squeezing his torso as he grunts through every rough stroke that sees you through it.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he groans before kissing you. He pushes in harder, faster, pounding into the slick fist of your sated cunt.

“You want another one?” he asks, breathless and panting, the curl of a smug smile at the edge of his mouth. “Think you can do it again?”

You can’t speak, your mouth parted in a fixed shape as you focus on how he feels inside you right now and when he slips a hand underneath your tailbone to angle you just right, he focuses his strokes downward, causing you to cry out. 

“Shhhh, honey. S’okay. You can take it. Gimme another one.”

His voice is lost in the fuzzy edges of your mind, the only thing coming through the soothing tone as he makes you take what he’s giving and when you start to lock up underneath him again, the smile on his face this time is more apparent than the first one. When you start to come, he looks almost proud.

Your nails dig into the meat of his ass, forcing him deeper and he bends and bites the underside of your breast as he picks up his pace. His hands bunching in the sheets, he fucks you harder, faster, and when his hips begin to stutter in their rhythm, you know he’s close. 

“Goddamnit,” he groans when you come around him, never stilling in his movement above you. 

Frantically needing him to feel as good as he just made you feel, you dig your hold into the meat along his ribs and hold him in place above you, your hips pushing up to work against his. Matching his every stroke down with your own, his eyes shut tight against the sensation he tries not to give into. 

“I’m gonna come inside you if you don’t stop,” he warns, the words a tortured groan.

Knowing you can’t do that, you move quickly underneath him, pushing your hands against his chest until he lifts just enough for you to frantically slide down the bed. His slick, stiff cock drags up your belly and along the plane of your chest, brushing against your chin right before you take it into your mouth and when you wrap your lips around it with a firm suck, the groan he lets out is loud and involuntary, his hips bucking forward. 

His hand buries itself into your hair, his fist pulling painfully at the roots when he pushes himself in down to the base and you feel his belly jerk with a tremble right before he pours hot and sticky along the back of your tongue. His release is endless, filling your mouth as he stretches out rigid next to you and you swallow every single drop, your throat working as you hold him close. 

Working the dregs of it out with a slow roll of his hips into your face, you finally pull off when he relaxes into the mattress with a soft groan. Peppering kisses along the tops of his thighs, you slowly ascend the body you’ve been aching for all day and his hands run lazily over your skin, making room for you to crawl into bed beside him. 

“That was…somethin’,” he sighs, a slow spreading smile gracing his face when he turns his head to look at you and you prop yourself up on your elbow, running your fingers through the hair just under his navel. 

Catching your hand, he brings it to his mouth with a kiss. 

Laying in silence together, the sounds of the night filter in through the open window on the soft breeze that tickles your sweat damp skin. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent you’d been dreaming about all day straight from the source and your bodies slowly relax together, entwined. 

When you feel his breathing even out into a slow rise and fall, you peek up at his face. Taking a moment to admire the profile of his nose, his long dark lashes, the gray gathered at his temples, you run the pad of your thumb across his bottom lip in a feather light touch. In his sleep, his lips purse as they chase the sensation and you smile, the movement so like June when you do the same thing to her. 

Leaning forward to give him one last kiss, you reach over him and turn out the light.

[pawified]

AITA FOR SLEEPING WITH MY GIRLFRIEND’S LITTLE SISTER AND LYING TO HER ABOUT IT?

• r/AmItheAsshole / 16.4M Members.

my girlfriend (28f) and i (27m) have been dating for 4 months, we met through mutual friends and have been seeing each other since.

she wanted me to meet her family two months into our relationship, although i felt like our relationship was moving to fast i didn’t saying anything, i just agreed not wanting to cause issues.

A week later im meeting her family at her parents house. her sister (23f) is the opposite of her; sweet, outgoing and puppy like. she's such a beautiful girl, ever since that night, i couldn't stop thinking about her. the way she speaks , her laugh and the way she looks at me. i know i sound like a bad boyfriend but the reason why, i'm with my current girlfriend is because she kept begging to sleep with me, i never liked her.

fast-forward to 3 months later, me and her sister grow closer and my partner starts to question it but i brush it off and call her crazy...after a while she lets it go. a few weeks ago, i got a phone call from her little sister asking for me to pick her up from a party because her friends bailed on her, i said yes because i couldn't leave her stranded.

when i pick her up the first thing i’d notice is the outfit she is wearing, a short short pink mini skirt with a black off the shoulder top. i could see the underside of her ass when she slid into the passenger seat of my car and after that one thing led to another and i ended up fucking her in the passenger seat of my car. After that night we continued to hookup and eventually my girlfriend asked me what is going on between me and her sister, i told her nothing and that she was overreacting... but it wasn't nothing because in the middle of our conversation, i was thinking about her sister.

read comments.

curseatter • 12mins ago : not to be nosy . . but this story sounds like satoru... but to answer your question, yes you are the asshole.

original poster: ? and to be fair i only got with my girlfriend to get with her sister.

kentonah • 3secs ago : yes.

original poster: whatever.

bloodbro • 10mins ago : ngl.. i think u have a perfect vaild reason to do what you did, its called mental illness.

original poster: i’m not mentally ill, im just deeply in love with my girlfriend’s ( now ex ) sister.

whatever. i think my reason was perfectly reasonable, i don’t need to take unsolicited advice from strangers on the internet especially those on fucking reddit of all places; but i did anyways.

satoru knows he is wrong but honestly, he doesn’t care. how could he when all he can think about is the feeling of your warm walls wrapping around him so tightly, or how you came instantly when u sunk down on him in the driver seat of his car that night.

he misses the way you would grip his hair so rashly because you were so eager for more, or it could be because you like the way his tongue felt against yours; whatever it was it had both of you comes back for more. — his cock is straining against his pants remembering all the close calls nd rushed moments with you, those are the ones he enjoys most.

he enjoys hearing you muffle your cries into your pink rose cover bedsheets, he enjoys it because he can see the white creamy ring you leave behind when he is pounding from behind.

so, no. in the end satoru isn’t the asshole in this situation, but your sister is because she has been selfishly keeping satoru away from you.

[flowerxbunnie]

can you pls pls write about shy reader she and chris are a recent couple and one day he founds out that she likes dirty talk and tries that with her

Dirty Secret

Chris x Fem reader

Warnings: SMUTTYYY smut, lots of dirty talk, degradation/praise

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY WITH SMUT OR ARE A MINOR!

Tags: @lustfulslxt

Chris’s POV

I can’t wipe the dumb smile off my face as I peek at Y/n’s nightstand, multiple tubes of chapstick covering the surface along with notebooks, pens, scrunchies, and lots of half empty water bottles. Her personality shows in her room so clearly, methodic but carefree.

These past four months have made me nothing but happy. We’ve done a good job at keeping our relationship out of the public eye after agreeing she didn’t want to handle any kickback from my fans yet. I hate that I can’t show her off, but it’s for the best, at least at this point.

I roam around her room with no ultimate goal, just waiting for her to get back from her nail appointment and I got bored. I scan her makeup table, brushes and random products strewn about as evidence that she’d been here hours before. Her jackets and hats hang on a hook behind her door and I run my fingers across the different fabrics, moving closer to inhale the vanilla scent that floods my mind with images of her. Fairly lights twinkle above her bed, something I’ve definitely taken notice of during all our nights tangled in her sheets.

I move to her bookshelf and look at all the spines of her books, some neatly lined up and some thrown haphazardly into piles. There’s collectible figures of the things she likes, crystals, and random little trinkets littering the shelves. I can’t help but reach out and touch the book that’s lying on the shelf at my eye level, running my fingers along all the multicolored sticky notes she’s placed into her favorite pages.

I guess it was a little too close to the edge, because even my light touch caused it to topple over and fall open, landing face down on the carpet below. I breathe out a curse and lean down to pick it up and put it exactly how I found it. I don’t want Y/n to think I’ve been snooping, because I haven’t. I’m just admiring all the little things that make her room feel like home to her.

I close the book and bring it back up to the shelf, turning it around to glance at the cover. Priest by Sierra Simone. I know a lot about Y/n already, but I didn’t know she was into religion. Sounds like a biography from the summary on the back. Something about a priest breaking their vow of celibacy and needing to confess. My interest is growing, I didn’t think she would enjoy this kind of book, maybe I should take a peek?

I pick the first sticky note my fingers brush across, knowing Y/n highlighted it for a reason. An audible gasp falls out of my mouth as a skim across the words on the page.

“Stay the fuck still, or I’m going to come before I want to, and if that happens, then I will take you over my knee and spank your ass until you learn how to listen.”

“What the fuck?” I question out loud.

I flip through multiple pages, each sticky note highlighting incredibly filthy words. It’s a fucking sex book. My cheeks burn at the thought of her reading these while she’s alone in her room, wondering what she looks like as she’s turning the pages and writhing with anticipation. I grab onto a pink sticky note and pull on it, flipping it to the page and reading what she had highlighted.

“But I won’t lie. It makes me hard as fuck knowing that I was the first man to taste you.”

This sticky note has her own handwriting smeared across it. I squint to make out the words.

If Chris would have said that to me…

Ouch, I think?

I’m not a vanilla guy by any means, but I’m not the weird fuck from 50 Shades of Grey either. I think our sex life is great, it’s more than enough to keep me satisfied. We’ve made love in the car, fucked while she was bent over her dining room table, stolen kisses in restaurant bathrooms after we snuck away from our friends. It’s all been so exciting to me, and even better because it’s with her.

I continue flying through the pages, my eyes widening at every line she made a point to come back to. This dude talks so much while he’s fucking this chick.

“No, don’t touch yourself, sweetheart. We’re going to get there together.”

Remind Chris to be more vocal!

It all clicks in my bird brain. I’m a fucking idiot. She’s highlighted almost all dialogue. She wants me to talk more during sex. I’ll admit, I’m not the best at speaking my mind while she’s bouncing on me or sprawled out below me. But why hasn’t she told me yet? I hope she hasn’t been disappointed with how things have been going.

I put the book back and angle it as best as I can remember, moving to lay down on top of her comforter. I stretch my back out and throw my arms behind my head, thinking about what I’m going to do when she gets home.

Y/n’s POV

I take my keys out of the door and lock it behind me, smiling as I see Chris’s sneakers sitting on the shoe rack in my entryway. My nails took way longer than I expected and I’m just so excited to be able to waste the rest of my day away with him. I make my way down the hall after placing my shoes next to his and creep into my bedroom, sprinting and jumping to lay beside Chris who’s stretched across my bed.

“Hiiii baby, I missed youuu!” I singsong before pressing a kiss against his stubbly cheek.

“Mmm, missed you more.” he mumbles into my neck as he turns and molds his body into mine.

His arms encircle me and the smell of his cologne floods my senses, washing a wave of comfort over me. I could lay like this forever.

“Let’s see the nails,” he says as he breaks away from me, suddenly sitting up and grabbing my hands.

I sit up beside him and watch as his large hands hold my own, moving my fingers around and watching the duo chrome polish shift colors in the light. His smile spreads from ear to ear as he takes notice of the “C” I asked the nail tech to paint onto my ring finger.

“Aren’t they so cute??” I squeal, so ecstatic at the way they turned out.

“So cute,” he coos, bringing them to his lips to place a tender kiss on each finger. “I think they’d look even cuter wrapped around my cock.” He says in a low growl as he brings my hand down to his lap, shoving my palm onto the fabric of his sweatpants.

I feel his erection through the layers of clothing, rock hard and throbbing. I can’t help but gasp at his words, I’ve never heard him speak like this before. I watch as his pupils dilate, the black overtaking the blue of his iris as he flickers his eyes to my lips.

“Nothing to say, sweetheart?” He asks almost in a belittling tone.

“N-no I just.. I’ve never heard you say something like that,” I squeak out as he pushes my hand down with more force.

“What, you don’t like it?” He says with a smirk.

“I don’t know.. I th-think so..” I stammer.

“When were you gonna tell me, hm? Such an innocent girl reading such filthy books. Does it turn you on?” His hand leaves mine against his hard on and comes up to caress my cheek.

“Huh, what are you talking about?” I spit out at him, my cheeks igniting red with visible embarrassment.

Has he snooped through my room?

“I saw it all, baby. And it’s okay. It’s okay if you need me to tell you how dirty of a girl you are, or how good you make me feel. You have to let me know these things..” he trails off as his thumb brushes against my lip, smearing my peppermint chapstick onto the corner of my mouth.

“I-I’m sorry, Chris. I don’t… I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want you to think I was weird.” I look down, intimidated by his cold gaze, and he tilts my head back up, his eyes serious.

“It’s not weird. Do you touch yourself to those books baby? Reading about a man talking to a woman like that.. does it make you feel good?” He whispers the last sentence and his free hand finds my inner thigh, caressing and warming my skin.

I nod sheepishly, afraid to speak my thoughts out loud to Chris.

“Use your words. Do you ever imagine it’s me saying those things?”

“Y-yes… every single time.” I say as I release a breath.

He groans and pushes my hair behind my ear, inching closer to me and ghosting his lips over my ear. “Such a naughty girl.”

Shivers fall down my spine as he places a kiss onto the sensitive skin between my ear and jaw, his lips lingering and sucking lightly. He slides the hand on my cheek to the back of my neck, lacing his fingers into my hair and pulling down, my neck exposed to him.

“Look at the way your body reacts to me.” He whispers, placing a finger onto my jugular, and I feel it pulsing mercilessly beneath his touch.

He moves his hand to grip around my throat, his thumb and fingers pressed firmly against both pulse points of my neck. My head begins to tingle, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. His lips pepper wet kisses along my jaw, every one of them seeping into my skin and heightened from the constricted blood flow.

“You like that, my hand around your throat? I could squeeze as hard as I want.” he says before constricting his grip.

My core begins to throb hearing his inner thoughts spill from his mouth. My field of vision starts to shrink, a black vignette closing in.

“I’d never hurt you like that, sweetheart. But don’t you like the risk?” He suddenly releases his hold on my throat and all my blood rushes back up into my head. I’m dizzy and completely aroused for him.

I nod furiously before his lips crash against mine, low growls seeping out of his throat and being released into my mouth. He bites and tugs at my bottom lip before pulling away and licking a hot stripe up my chin and back up to my mouth. His lips meet mine again, his mouth open and begging for my tongue. I push it into his mouth only to be dominated, not standing a chance as his hunger grows.

Chris’s hands latch onto my hips, lifting me off the mattress and into his lap, his erection poking at my core. He breaks the kiss and grabs the hem of my shirt, sliding his hands up along with the fabric. I help him get it off, discarding it somewhere in my room. His eyes burn holes into my chest, examining the bralette covering the skin. He grabs the bottom and slides it up, my breasts bouncing as they fall out in front of him. He pushes the excess fabric up to rest on the plate of my chest.

“Fuck, Y/n. If I died with my face in your tits I’d be happy.”

He begins ravaging my breasts, nipping and licking and leaving red and purple marks across the skin. He sucks my nipples while looking so deep into my eyes I start to think he can see the back of my skull. The line of pain and pleasure is completely blurred when he takes one of my swollen nipples between his teeth and tugs on it.

“F-fuck, Chris..” I cry out, bucking my hips instinctively and pressing down onto his throbbing dick.

He lets out a deep moan, gripping my waist and prompting me to stop my movements. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that. I’m so fucking hard it hurts.”

I let out a little grin and begin to rock back and forth again, his head falling against the headboard with his eyes squeezed shut. His cock rubs against my clit through the multiple layers of clothing, but the pressure and friction still causes both of us to pant and moan in unison. He brings his head back up and grips my hips tighter this time, my body unable to move.

“Such a dirty girl. Can’t listen to simple instructions.”

He removes his shirt, a layer of sweat starting to form on his skin, then brings my bra over my head, not bothering with the clasp. He throws it across the room and then lifts my legs to remove my shorts before lifting me up and sliding his sweatpants off, all of which meet the same fate as the rest of the discarded clothes. He presses a hand against my chest, my back hitting the bed as he pushes me down. He comes to hover over me, his eyes dark and half lidded. His knee is pressed inbetween my thighs touching my core with a teasing amount of pressure.

“You’ve already made such a mess, baby..” he says with false concern, referring to the wetness that has seeped through my panties and is touching his skin.

“I’m s-sorry..” I whine, fighting the urge to grind against his knee.

“Don’t apologize, sweet girl. I’ll help you out.”

Chris trails kisses down my chest and stomach, randomly sucking marks into my skin on the way down. He circles his tongue around my navel before licking across it, a trace amount of his warm saliva dripping in. He traces his tongue along the lace hem of my panties, his breath burning against my skin as he grips it with his teeth.

“Please, Chris..” I whine and push him closer to the place I need him most.

His eyes show his grin as he dips his face down, flattening his tongue across the fabric covering my core. He licks and sucks at it, humming and closing his eyes as he spreads my legs apart.

“So sweet,” He whispers as he flicks his tongue up and down.

He hooks his fingers into the band of my panties and pulls, his mouth only disconnecting for a brief second to slide them down my legs before his tongue finally connects with my bare pussy. I arch my back off the bed and cry out as his tongue works against my heat. I’m a mess under him- gripping the sheets, tugging on his brown waves, grabbing my own breasts, doing whatever I can to release some of the tension building up in my body.

“You like the way my tongue feels on you, princess?” He asks in a raspy voice as he wipes his wet mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yes.. fuck please keep going..” I pant, not wanting to lose momentum as my climax has started inching its way to the top.

“How about you do what you need? Use my face and get yourself off.”

He leans back down and presses his tongue against me, holding still as he keeps eye contact. I start circling my hips, feeling the way his tongue remains in place as I grind against it. I grip onto his face and pull it closer, moving my hips down so his nose rubs my clit and his tongue rubs up and down my folds. I buck up and down in complete control and he hums against me to the point I feel like my intestines are vibrating. I speed up and increase the pressure as my stomach begins to ache with a familiar feeling.

I nearly scream, tensing up as my body burns through my climax. He remains still just letting me use him as I ride through it and come down, my grip on his hair relaxing and my body falling slack on the bed.

“Taste yourself baby. Let me show you what you did, all for me.” He whispers against my lips after he climbs to hover over me.

I’m still trying to catch my breath as his lips collide onto mine. I taste my own juices on his tongue, sweet and tangy. He presses his hips down onto my stomach and reminds me of his need, humping forward a few times and moaning into my mouth.

“Now are you gonna bend over or just sit there and look pretty?” He growls as he swiftly stands up and pulls his boxers down.

His pink tip is swollen and leaking precum. His grips his hand around his base and squeezes until his knuckles turn white, his head falling back out of pleasure or maybe the throbbing pain, there’s no way to tell. His eyes lock onto mine and he starts pumping up and down on his dick, sucking in a sharp breath.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

I pull myself to my feet as quick as I can and limp to the end of the bed, my legs like jelly after tensing up so hard.

“That’s cute. Can’t wait to carry you to the shower after this one.” he smirks and licks his lips.

My breath hitches as I turn around and bend over the footboard of the bed. His hands run up and down my ass, jiggling it before giving me a light smack with both hands. I gasp, jumping forward and my ribs hit the wood I’m bent over.

“So fucking hot, can’t believe this is all mine,” he coos, running his fingers down my folds before wiping my juices onto my lower back.

I feel his head against my clit, slick with warm precum. He soaks himself in my juices as he swipes it across my entrance, barely dipping in as he grips my hip with one hand.

“Chris.. oh my god. P-please just fuck me.” I whine, my legs already shaking and twitching.

“Mmm I plan on it, baby.” he whispers before slowly pushing forward.

He slowly gives me inch by delicious inch, my walls stretching around his thickness as we moan out together. He starts slow and stays deep inside me, barely pumping in and out. He runs his hands up and down my spine as he rocks into me, his breathing slow and controlled. My pussy clenches around him as his tip brushes repeatedly over a sensitive spot.

“P-please Chris go faster,” I draw out in a moan.

He listens. His thrusts become rough and rapid, my ribs slamming against the wood with each stroke but my brain seems to tune it out. He keeps his grip on my waist with one hand and reaches around to my face with the other, shoving two fingers in my mouth. I suck on them hard, swirling and lapping my tongue around them.

“Such a fucking slut, so willing to have all your holes filled, aren’t you?” He pants as he hooks his fingers onto the corner of my mouth and pulls back.

“Nhgnh.. fuck..” is all I can manage through his manipulation of my mouth.

“What? Am I fucking you dumb? Can’t even get your words out.”

I moan in response and feel my pussy throbbing around him, my lower abdomen on fire as I climb to my next release.

“S-so close..” I mumble as drool drips down my chin.

He lets go of my mouth and grips my waist, his thumbs pressing into the dimples on my back.

“You need me to cum in you, don’t you? I know you wanna be filled up, so full your eyes start to float.” He pumps as deep as he can go, my eyes rolling back into my head and words failing to form. “Answer me.” He spits with a smack on my ass.

“Please… p-please cum in me. Need it.. s-so bad Chris!”

With that he shoves his hips against me and shoots his hot load into my pussy, coating my walls as I fall over the edge with him. I’m screaming his name as he moans mine, pure ecstasy echoing through my room. I feel his cum leaking down my legs, such a big load that it has nowhere else to go. His thrusts slow down before they come to a halt, his dick still twitching inside me.

He pulls out and hums as he backs up and takes in the sight in front of him. I have no energy to stand, my muscles aching and tired.

“Look at that. God I wish I could burn this into my brain.”

He walks over to me, wrapping his arms around my torso and lifts me, my legs helping very little to hold me up. He hooks an arm under my thighs and picks me up to hold me bridal style. I’m so tired that my head can only manage to flop against his chest, and I hear his rapid heartbeat in my ear.

He starts to walk towards my bathroom but first places a lingering kiss on my forehead. I can feel the smile on his lips.

“Told you I’d have to carry you to the shower.”

[ddejavvu]

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

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

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

WC: 16.1K / navigation / inbox

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

“-visit?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

You hope more than anything that promise stays true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If you’re able to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His gifts!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“What is it, baby doll?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s-”

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When are you guys coming back?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if he doesn’t want me back?”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- What’s she doing?

Can’t tell you ;)

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

Tell him I said to leave you alone!

- He says you’re not the boss of him.

Tell him your mom said to leave you alone.

- He says she’s not the boss of him.

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

- My dad’s eating one too :( 

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

- I love you best. ❤

I love you too baby ❤

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Are you coming over to celebrate?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sap,” You accuse, and Bradley laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles, “Sorry. Hi, mom.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. Thanks, guys.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Burger?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I know. I’ll tell him.

- ❤️

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or until you know the truth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: Anon request - "virgin!reader x Sam"

Warnings: soft SMUT18+, some strong language, mentions of wine, fingering, protected first time sex, hair pulling, sensual smut, fully smut

Word count: 4.2k | not edited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

"You don't have any plans tonight, do you?" Sam asks as he slips his big sweater over his head. You purse your lips as you think for a second before shaking your head, "Not unless they're with you."

You smile as he smiles and he walks back over to you, "Good. I made us dinner reservations, I'll be back at six to get you."

"Fancy or casual?" You turn around to rest your arms on the back of the couch, eyes watching him as he comes over and leans down, "Slightly fancy."

He peck your lips, "That okay?"

You nod, "more than okay, baby."

He brushes hair from your face, "Okay." He presses his lips to your forehead, "See you later."

You hold your hand up, watching as he walks towards the door, "Bye." As soon as the door closes, you pull your phone out, texting your best friend to call you.

A few minutes later, your phone rings and you answer, "Sam has a dinner planned tonight." You blurt out, "I think.. I think he wants to, you know."

"Have sex?" She asks with a slight laugh, "There's nothing wrong about that word, y/n."

"I know.." you say resting your cheek in your palm, "I just.. we've been dating for almost- we'll, it'll be three months tomorrow and I.." you let out a sigh, "I haven't told him yet."

"Told him wh- wait." She pauses for a moment, "You haven't told him that you've never had sex before?"

You loved your best friend because you can talk to her about anything, no shame at all.

She was your safe place.

No judgment at all.

"I haven't.. I just didn't know when, not like there's a right or wrong time or anything but mainly because I'm scared to tell him."

"Why are you scared, y/n?" She asks, pausing so you can answer, "What if he thinks I'm weird?"

She laughs, loudly, "I highly, and I mean high-ly doubt that he'll think you're weird. Someone who has never had sex before is hard to come by."

"I just.. I don't want to embarrass myself with him, you know, like I really want to with him, I just let my mind get the best of me, I guess."

"I want you to listen to me, y/n." She sighs, "The way Sam looks at you, is the way someone who knows they have a forever in their hands looks at someone, and that's even more rare than someone who still has their virginity."

You smile, "I know it's probably way too soon, but I honestly do think I love him."

"I wouldn't doubt it. You guys are tooth rottenly perfect for each other." She laughs slightly, "I'm sure he feels the same way about you."

You take a deep breath, "I'm going to tell him tonight, I mean it it all goes wrong and he does find me weird-"

She cuts you off, "He's not going to find you weird." She laughs, "I'm sure that will turn him on even more."

"Oh gosh, no. Stop it." You close your eyes, shaking your head, "I'm already nervous as is."

"Sorry, but no. I think it'll be okay." She pauses, "Just remember, that good things take time, and I'm sure that you being such a pure little angel will make it even better."

You smile, laughing slightly as you nod to yourself, "I'm sure you're right and I'm just overreacting."

"Isn't that what usually happens?" She laughs and you your eyes, "Mhm."

"Alright, well let me know how it goes. If you need, my door is always open for you."

You smile, "Thank you. I'll call you tomorrow or something."

"Sounds good. Now go pick out a pretty dress."

"I'll send you pictures. Thank you." You stand up and she sighs, "You got this. He isn't going to go anywhere."

"Okay." You nod, "Talk later."

"Talk later."

You hang up, letting out a long sigh as you make your way into your room to rummage through your closet.

After a while of holding up dresses to your body, you settle on a white knit dress with a cropped sweater attached to it.

You lay it on the bed, walking over to find a pair of shoes that go with it nicely. You pull out each pair of heel you have, nervous that nothing will go with it.

You set a pair of tan ankle boots next to it and tilt your head as you take a picture to send to your friend.

You smile at her reply, That is the cutest dress ever and the light tan color of those boots go so well. You'll look great, y/n!

You text her back and look at the time, it's almost four, which means you have two hours until Sam is back to pick you up.

You head for the shower, hoping to wash some of the anxiety you have, away.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You set the curling iron down after curling the last strand of your hair. You look into the mirror of your vanity and let out a sigh, "You got this."

Your phone vibrates and you pick it up, smiling when you see a text from Sam, On my way, sweetheart.

You text back, See you soon, baby.

You set your phone down, applying any last minute touches to your makeup before you stand up to smooth out your dress.

You grab your purse, hooking it onto your shoulder before snapping a picture to send to your friend.

She replies back as you walk out of your room, telling you that you look pretty and what not. She was your biggest support, besides Sam.

Sam has been there for you through everything that's happened these last two, almost three months. You guys clicked instantly and just like your friend said, you felt like you had forever in your hands when you looked at him, too.

There's a knock on your door and you stand up, walking over to open it. An instantly smile on your face when your eyes meet Sam's.

"Wow, you look gorgeous." He smiles as his eyes move down your body, "These are for you."

Your lips slightly part as your eyes move down to the bouquet of red roses in his hand, "Sam." You whisper looking back up at him as you take them, "They're so beautiful."

You open your arm, wrapping it around his neck. His hand lays on your hip and he turns his head to kiss your cheek, "Beautiful flowers, for a beautiful girl. You ready?”

You smile, "Yeah, let me just set these on the counter." You turn, walking back into your apartment to set them down on the counter, "Okay. Ready."

You walk over to him and link your arm with his. You pull your door shut before he leads you down to his car. He opens the passenger door for you, giving you a smile before he closes it.

He walks around, getting into the drivers seat, "That dress looks beautiful on you."

You run your hand over the fabric and look up at him, "Thank you. I got it a few weeks ago, figured now was the perfect time to wear it."

"Any time would have been the perfect time, babe." Sam smiles as he lays his hand on yours, interlocking your fingers together.

You bring your other hand over, tracing gentle circles on top of his hand. Your mind starts racing, but you quickly shut it down by reminding yourself of what your friend said.

You rest your head back, staring out the window at the lights of the city. Sam squeezes your hand, "You okay?"

You look over at him, "What, babe?"

"I asked if you're okay." He glances over at you, "You're quiet."

"Oh, I'm fine. Just enjoying the lights." You nod towards the window and he tilts his head, "You sure?"

You nod at him, "Yes, baby. I'm good." You smile, giving his hand a squeeze back. He smiles and pulls up to the doors.

You look over at him, "Valet?"

He smiles and nods, "Uh huh. Now wait here." He gets out, walking around to your side. He talks to the attendant before opening your door, "This way, sweetheart."

He holds his hand out and you take it as you exit the car, "Sam. This place is fancy."

He wraps an arm around your waist as you walk in, "You deserve it."

You smile as you walk with him to your table. He pulls your chair out for you and you sit down. He helps move your chair in before moving to sit beside you.

Your eyes scan down over the menu, "Everything sounds so good."

He nods, "I came here with Colby a few months ago, it was very good."

You set your menu down, looking from it to Sam, "I have to tell you something."

You can see it in his face that he doesn't like the sound of that but you quickly reassure, "Don't worry, it's nothing bad."

He lets out a sigh, "Oh god. Okay." He laughs slightly, "What's up, babe?"

Just as you're about to say it, the waiter comes over, "Good evening, my name is Frankie, I'll be your waiter tonight. Can I get you started with something to drink?"

"Hello Frankie." Sam gives him a smile, "Actually, yes." He looks over at you, "How does a bottle of Sangria sound?"

You smile and nod, "Please."

Sam looks back at Frankie, "Well do a bottle of Sangria, red." He nods at Sam and smiles, "I'll be right back with that."

"Thank you." You and Sam say as he walks away. Sam looks at you, taking your hand, "So you were saying?"

You laugh nervously, "Oh, yeah. That." You brush a curl from your face and sigh, "There's something I've been meaning to tell you, and I think you need to know before anything happens-"

He cuts you off, "Anything, sweetheart. You can tell me anything." You catch the hint of worry in his voice so you lean in, "I'm.." you pause, laughing slightly as you build up the courage.

You look up at him, "I'm a.. virgin."

He lets out the breath he was holding, "I thought you were going to say you can't see me anymore or something."

You lay your other hand on top of the one that's in your hand, "No, baby." You shake your head, "I just thought I should tell you, I'm not trying to rush anything by saying that, I just.." you raise your brows, "I just don't have any personal experience and I figured that that would be embarrassing on my end."

He reaches his hand up, thumb brushing your cheek, "There's nothing embarrassing about that, sweetheart." He smiles, "I think.. that's kind of sexy."

Your friend was right, you think as you bite your bottom lip, "Really?"

"There's a first time for everything, darling.." Sam smiles, "And if you are willing, I'd be honored to show you the ropes." He winks, causing a slight blush to take to your cheeks.

"Considering we're celebrating our three month anniversary tonight.." you rest your elbows on the table and lean forward, "I think tonight would be the perfect night for you to do that."

He tilts his head, "It's been three months already?"

You laugh, "I know. Time flies when you're having a good time." He laughs, sighing as he looks up at Frankie, "Thank you."

He nods, "Are we ready to order yet?"

"I am." Sam nods and looks over at you, "You know whatcha want?"

You motion to him, "You go first." You look back down over menu as Sam orders. You look up, ordering what you want before Frankie walks away.

You feel Sam slip his hand under yours and you look over at him as you sit your wine. He stares at you for a few seconds, "Why were you nervous to tell me?"

You shrug, "I didn't want you to think I was weird."

He laughs slightly, "Oh baby, why would I think you're weird? I think that's a good thing, you know?"

"Well.." you sigh with a smile, "That's certainly a relief."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·

As you leave the restaurant, your arm linked with Sam's, you can but feel a rush up nervous excitement.

You were more than ready to give yourself to Sam.

You wanted him to be the one to have you for the first time.

The more you thought about it, the more it felt like it was meant to happen this way.

You watch as the valet attendant brings his car around. Sam leads you down, opening the passenger door for you.

"Thank you, baby." You give him a kiss on the cheek before getting in. He smiles, "More than welcome, my love."

He shuts your door, waving to the attendant and yelling a quick 'thank you' before getting in, "Alright. So where to now?"

"We can go back to my place." You bite your lip as you look over at him. He smirks, "say no more." He starts to drive, his hand finding yours like it always does.

You can tell he wants to ask something, but chooses not to.

"You can ask me, babe." You laugh slightly, "I'll answer any question you have."

He glances over at you, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable by asking anything."

You shake your head, "You won't."

"Why haven't you.." he pauses, "i don't know how to word it." He laughs nervously and you rest your head back, "Why haven't I ever had sex with anyone before?"

He nods and you shrug, "I just.. I don't know, really. It just never felt right with anyone. I was thinking about it, after I told you, and I honestly feel like it was meant to be this way."

He smiles as he comes to a stop, looking over at you, "Really?"

You nod, "I haven't felt this way with anyone. I actually told my friend earlier today that-" you stop once you realize what you're about to say.

You look over at him and he nods, "Keep going."

You take a calming breath, "I was just telling her today that I think.." you smile slightly, "I'm falling in love with you."

A smile takes over his face and he shakes his head, "I actually had sorta the same conversation with Colby the other day."

"You did?" You can feel your cheeks heating and he nods. He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing them against the back of it, "I love you, y/n."

Your heart skips a beat and you nod, "I love you, Sam."

He presses a few kisses onto the back of your hand as he comes to a stop at a red light. He lets go of your hand and reaches up to pull you over as he leans over, and that's right when you knew that you definitely have the kissing at red lights kind of love.

"When we get back to my place.." you whisper as you lean back, "I want you to take me into my room and show me just how much you love me."

You were shocked that those words came from your lips.

But you weren't arguing about it.

"Anything for you, baby." Sam takes his hand back into yours as he continues driving.

Your stomach fills with, what feels like a thousand butterflies and he pulls into the parking space in front of your building.

He looks over at you, reaching up to cup your cheek with his hand, "I've never felt this much love for someone."

You lay your hand on his, "Me too, Sam."

He pulls you in, pressing his lips to yours before whispering a small, "Come on, sweetheart." He gets out, and like usual, comes and opens your door.

You cling to his arm, smiling as you walk up to your door. You unlock it, immediately pulling him in. He kicks the door shut as your hands go to the sides of his neck, lips meeting his.

His hands go to your waist, backing you up a few steps before he pulls your body into his.

"Are you sure?" He whispers, leaning his head back a little to look at you.

"I've never been more sure of anything before, Sam."

He smiles, brushing hair from your face, "Okay." He leans down, gripping the back of your thighs so he can lift you up.

Your legs circle his waist, arms wrapping around his neck as he walks you into your bedroom.

The most you’ve done with Sam is an old fashioned high school make out. Nothing more. He never pressured you into more, with him, it just feels so right.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, pressing little kisses onto your cheek as he lays you down on the bed. Your legs fall to his sides and he leans up to shrug off his jacket.

You watch was his hands move to undo each button on his white shirt as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

Your eyes move up to meet his as he slides it down his shoulders and drops it to the floor. He leans back down, body over yours as he presses his lips to yours again.

He grinds against you, earning a low moan from your lips, “That’s it, baby.” He kisses down your neck and back up, “If it feels good, tell me.”

You nod, tilting your head back as he attaches his lips to the skin of your neck, sucking to leave a mark.

You moan out quietly as your nails dig into his shoulders. His hand moves down to pull your dress up, letting it lay high on your thighs.

His hand dips in between them, gently dragging lines up and down your clothed, but soaked center.

“Please.” You whimper as you move your hips, “Please, touch me.”

He nods once, tilting his head slightly as he watches your face. He slips his fingers into the crutch of your panties, pushing them over before gently gliding a finger up and down, “This what you wanted, baby?”

You nod quickly, moving your hips up and down, “Y-yes.”

You thought him just grazing the outside of your pussy felt good, but it quickly heightened when he slowly plunged his finger into you.

You arched your back, letting out a whine as you squeezed around his finger.

“Feel good?” Sam asks rubbing your thigh with his free hand. You look up at him, lips parted as you moan to him slowly moving his finger out and back in, “Fuck, yes.”

Sam bites his lip, watching your body move from the pleasure he’s giving you.

He was in awe that you were his.

He slid his hand over, palming himself through his suit pants because the image of you was making him ache.

“Fuck, I know I keep saying it, but you look so beautiful.” He leans down, hand still between your legs, “So pretty.”

He gently presses his lips to yours and your hands move to his neck, sliding one hand up to tangle in his hair.

He lets out a groan as you tug, “So mine.”

You smile against his lips, arching your back as he curls his finger, “Fuck.” You slide your hands down his chest, “Please, Sam. I need you.”

He nods, “Alright.” He slowly pulls his finger out, “Take this off for me.” He tugs the hem of your dress before getting up to take off his pants.

His eyes are glued on you as you sit up to reveal your body to him. You let the dress drop to the floor before reaching behind you to unhook your bra.

He slips his fingers into the band of his boxers, pausing to just take a good look at you.

“What?” You ask, a shy tone consuming your words.

He shakes his head, “Nothing, I-“ he sighs and smiles, “You’re just.. ravishing.”

You give him a smile and look down, “Oh, thank you.” He strips away from his boxers, “Do you have a condom, by chance?”

“Actually.. I do.” You laugh, “my friend gave it to me a few weeks ago, long story but it pertains to you.”

He chuckles, “Oh jeeze, okay.” He walks over to the stand you pointed to, pulling out and putting it on before walking over to crawl up between your legs again, “You okay?”

You look up at him, laughing nervously, “Just.. kinda nervous.”

He brushes your cheek with his hand, “I got you, sweetheart.” He leans in, pressing his lips to your forehead, “If it hurts or gets to be too much, I’ll stop.”

You nod, lying back as he moves up to hover over you, “Tell me when.”

You take a deep breath, giving him a nod, “I’m ready.”

Sam gathers some spit onto his fingertips and reaches down to coat the tip of his cock, “Just try and relax, baby.”

You spread your legs, laying your hands on his biceps as he positions himself at the entrance. You close your eyes, the rollercoaster of emotions hitting you at once.

Nervous.

Excited.

Happy.

But, you were ready for him.

You close your eyes, squeezing his biceps as he slowly slides into you, “Fuck.” He breathes out, “You okay?”

You nod quickly, eyes still shut tight, “Yeah.”

He pauses for a moment, reaching up to tilt your head up, “You sure?” You give him a smile, “Yes.” You lay your hand on his cheek, “K-keep going.”

He brushes hair from your face before reaching for your hand, interlocking your fingers with his. He continues to push in, earning small moans from you.

You wrap your leg over his waist, squeezing his hand tight.

“Sam.” You moan out quietly, “That feels so good.”

He leans down, peppering your face with kisses, “That’s good, baby.” He pushes all the way in, resting for a moment, “You feel so good.”

You lay your free hand on his cheek, wiggling your hips ever so slightly, “Okay.”

He tilts his head, “Ready?”

You nod and gasp as he pulls out, gently thrusting back in, “Fuck, y/n. You feel incredible.”

His words send the anxiety and nervousness away. You feel so much closer to him already. You now know that this was the way it was supposed to be.

“I love you.” You whisper out, “I love you.”

Sam rests his forehead against yours, “I love you so much.” He lifts his head to plant a kiss, “So fucking much.”

You snake your arm under his, laying your hand in the center of his back as you moan out, louder than they’ve been.

“You sound so pretty.” Sam whispers in your ear before kissing down your neck. He groans lowly, “I want to get you off before I do, okay?”

“Okay.” You breathe out, “Fuck.”

He thrust a little bit faster, still holding your hand in his. He reaches down with his other hand, pulling your arm away from his and holding your other hand.

He pins it by your head, forehead on yours, “I can’t get over you.” He whispers lowly, a moan following his words.

You smile slightly, brows furrowing as you feel an intense pleasure building up in your stomach, “I-I think I’m close.”

He nods, “Whenever you want, sweetheart.” Sam kisses your lips and you moan into his mouth, “Shit. Shit.”

You tighten your leg around his waist, bringing the other one up to lock around him. Your eyes roll shut as your back lifts off the bed and you squeeze his cock.

You drag your moan out, “Fuuuck.”

“That’s it baby. Cum for me.” Sam encourages, “That’s my girl.” He lets go of your one hand to brush hair from your face, “So fucking beautiful.”

Your chest rises and falls quickly as you come down, Sam not too far behind you.

His throws slow down, almost to a completely stop and you feel him twitch inside of you. He presses kisses over your face, “You okay?”

You nod, laying your hands on his cheeks, “I’m wonderful, baby.”

He smiles, “Alright, I’m gonna..” he nods down and you brace yourself before he slowly pulls out. He gets up, walking over to your bathroom to discard the condom and to grab a towel for you to clean up with.

You toss the towel down and turn back slightly to move the covers of the bed down. You move up and slide your legs under them, “Are you staying the night?”

You look up at him with a smile and he smiles, “You know it.”

He walks over to you, sliding in beside you and pulling the blankets up around you both. You snuggle into his chest, letting out a content sigh, “I definitely believe now, that this is the way it was to happen for me.”

Sam rubs your back as he smiles, “You think?” He looks down at you and you look up at him, “I know.”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

I hope you enjoyed! I think this is one of my favorite Sam one shots that’s I’ve written so far.

As usual, let me know what you thought and thanks for reading! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 🖤

[luveline]

A roan drabble where she asks to sleep with reader and Eddie even though she’s been sleeping in her own bed for months now ❤️

I hope it's still okay! dad!eddie x sort of step mom!reader ♡ 3.5k

Eddie watches his daughter out of the corner of his eye. She's sitting in the armchair next to your vanity like a tiny queen, head back in your pillow from the bed and wrapped up warm in thick fleece pyjamas. Half her clothes or more are pyjamas at this point.

You're standing at the top of the bed shaking out a new fitted sheet. It's a purple so light it's almost white, and you'd got it today for next to nothing. You keep the bedsheets, the whole room even, pretty neutral, worried he won't like your more feminine covers, but when you'd seen the bedspread set today at the store Eddie couldn't care less how girly it was, he wanted you to have it just to see you smile when you're lying in it. 

"Take a corner, handsome," you prompt, not irritated, exactly, but eager to be done. 

Eddie grabs the bottom corners and you take the top ones, the two of you working to tuck it over the mattress without one or the other pinging off. 

Roan slides off of the chair and runs to Eddie's side to help. 

"Thanks, babe." He gives her hair a stroke. 

"Take the corner, dad!" 

Eddie zips his mouth shut and does as he's told. Together, the three of you make the bed, and when the sheets are taut and almost too pristine he grabs Roan up in his arms, impossibly heavy but still easy enough to carry, and throws her into the middle of the bed. Raucous giggles erupt from her, the kind that are instantly infectious, practically sticky with joy. Kids love when you throw them at things. 

"Again!" she demands, standing up with her arms held high. 

Eddie waves with both hands for her to run into his arms. He picks her up, spins her around, and throws her aggressively into the cushion of your fancy mattress. She actually bounces, screaming with joy at the ricochet of her body. 

You watch in horror. 

"What?" Eddie laughs. "She's fine!" 

"I can't believe she enjoys that." 

"Why? Come here."

"No." You stand very still. Eddie takes a small step toward you. "Eddie, no. Stay away from me." 

"I won't pick you up," he says, maybe lying, maybe not.

You step back. You're in an old sleep shirt but a new pair of pyjama trousers. He insisted on them to lengthen the luxuriousness of your new sheets, and you look so pretty that he almost feels bad when he grabs you, pushing you back into the bed next to Roan, his girl still giggling lazily. When you shriek, she laughs all over again. 

"Roan," you beg, trying not to laugh, "Ro, please, baby, don't let him push me around." 

"It's fun," she tells you. 

"Because you're little! I'm big, I'm not as floppy as you are, I'm full of old bones, princess, please." 

You stare at her pleadingly. Roan, still laughing, the tiny white flash of her baby teeth peeking out as she smiles huge, takes pity on you despite how much fun she's having and climbs on top of your chest, her arms wrapping around your head protectively. 

"Stay away, dad," she warns. 

You're smothered by her neck pressed to your mouth and nose. You turn your face to suck in a breath, brushing the lengthening curtain of her dark hair from your face so you can keep an eye on your awful boyfriend. He has his arms crossed.

He reminds you of the very first time you'd met him. He'd been carrying Roan back to a car, one arm full of her, the other clutching a paper bag that wasn't meant to be. Roan had been so small, so much younger, and she hadn't been speaking very much but she had been screaming, wailing at the top of her lungs. She'd hit herself in the eye, you remember, watching from afar with a sad frown. Eddie looked depressed, worried for her and agitated as parents tend to be, and Roan had been overwhelmed. You'd seen them a bunch of times before at that very same store — you'd meant to go up to him more than once and ask for his number. Not because you're especially brave, or because he seemed even slightly interested, but because he was maddeningly attractive. In a less hectic instance, he'd been dressed in Sunday best and Roan had been wearing the same, you still remember the cornflower blue dress and matching shiny shoes, and his sweetness had marked the beginning of something big. The beginning of all of this. 

Flowers? Roan had said, her voice young, clumsy.

What about flowers, sweetheart? Eddie asked. 

Flowers… 

Eddie leaned against the handlebars of the shopping cart she was sitting in, his face close to hers, and said super gently, Do you wanna go look at the flowers? 

Roan nodded hurriedly, like she was worried Eddie might change his mind, and Eddie, your love, had put down the pasta jars he'd been looking between to push her back to the front of the store with all of the bouquets. He'd walked past you, and as he did, he said to Ro, I'm not getting you two bouquets again. One is enough, bubby. You understand?

That image of him buying his daughter two different bouquets because she asked for them, that's what got you most. You know, besides his pretty face. 

"What are you thinking about?" Roan whispers. 

"How did you know I was thinking?" 

"You look like you need to burp." 

"Oh, my god," Eddie says, feigned sternness faded and replaced with a sheepish delight. "Roan, I hope you don't say burp in school." 

"No, dad, I don't say burped." Eddie nods. "I just burp." 

Eddie covers his face with his hands and pretends to be in agonising pain. It should be a horrific watch, but his melodrama pays off and Roan laughs so much she forgets she's hiding you from her dad, jumping off of the bed to crowd his legs. 

"She has no manners," he whines. 

"She's just a baby," you deny. "Babies don't have manners." 

"She is not a baby! She's my baby, but she's old enough to not burp in front of people," he cries, looking down at her with wide eyes. "They're gonna say I dragged you up." 

"I like when you drag me up," she says firmly. 

Eddie leans down to put his hands under her armpits and drags her up the length of his chest obligingly, positioning her on the curve of his hip. She helps brush the hair out of his eyes, and he closes them, tilting his head back, pale face to the bedroom light. 

"Thanks," he murmurs. 

"Yeah. You're very handsome, daddy." 

Roan is one of those kids who absolutely reflects what she's given, as the majority of them tend to be. You pour love in, love comes right back out. 

When she was younger and she could talk but didn't very often, and you'd been bright shiny new in their lives, the total object of Roan's affection, you'd been crying about something you don't remember now and Roan had climbed into your lap and said, "It's okay, sweetheart." It showed not only how beautifully sensitive she was and would continue to be, but how patient Eddie is with her. How loving. He's comforted her through innumerable mood swings, tantrums, inexplicable showings off, so gently and so often that his loving placating seeped into her, and when she'd seen you upset, she didn't hesitate. She's a total sponge. 

It's invaluable, and it also means she hears Eddie say crass words or hears him flat out burp without apology and does the same. What's the opposite of a silver lining? 

Eddie squints at her, her compliment warming his heart no doubt. "Thank you, Ro. You're very handsome too. You're beautiful, capital B." 

"Thank you," she says distractedly, more focused on brushing his hair with her fingers than the conversation. 

You yawn and stretch before standing to finish making the bed. Eddie and Roan fall into conversation, murmurings about hair and hair brushes, coconut milk conditioner and no tears shampoo. They move onto midnight snack options as you shake out the quilt, in their own world. You don't mind making the bed up by yourself. You might if it were solely up to you, but it's Eddie who usually does it, and besides, you don't often weigh up who does what. Eddie's good at keeping it equal. Actually, he's awful at keeping it equal, but the brunt of it never falls to you. His lingering worry about burdening you with things has been a past point of contention, though those conversations are nearly always built around love at the core. You want to do more, you always have, and these days Eddie lets you. 

Like taking care of Roan. Things progressed naturally. Eddie's always been the primary caregiver and he likely always will be, you'd never resent or refuse that, though again, you love Ro so much you'd do just about anything for her. You love Eddie the same way. So when they moved into your home —'your' as a collective, the three of you plus Lucky the fish— things did change. You started doing more for both of them. And that's how you want it to be. 

You change the covers while they have their little lovefest, Eddie leaning against the dresser and Roan leaning against him. You can't be jealous. He watches you beeline for the living room every day after work; you get home and you and Roan are thereafter engaged in a cuddle session. A tradition that started with quick hugs or cheek kisses with permission and slowly morphed as you became closer into endless affection while he makes dinner. He never complains more than the occasional unserious whine. You guys don't love me as the puppy dog eyes go wild. 

You're setting the pillows back on the bed in new cases when Eddie pulls himself out of their playful teasing. "Thank you, babe." 

"Of course. How does it look? Good?" you ask, straightening the comforter. 

"It looks great," he agrees. "How's that, Ro? It's almost like yours now, we're going lilac too." 

"Mine are sparkly," she says. 

"You mean shiny?" 

She nods, reaching out toward the bed with both arms. Eddie puts her down at the end and her head flops back into the sheets. She lets out a huff. 

"This is nice." 

"Yeah?" you ask. "We can get you some if you want." 

"Maybe…" She looks between you and Eddie. "Is it time to brush our teeth now?" 

"Did you say you were hungry?" 

She nods hesitantly. 

"Well, maybe we can go have something to eat first. I don't want you sleeping with a rumbly tummy," Eddie says, wriggling his fingers at her in a common gesture for take my hand. 

"But this is so comfy," she says. Comfy sounds best of all in her little voice. It's a new word for her, and it's chewed over slowly. 

"You can come back." 

"Can I?" she asks. 

Eddie shrugs. "Why not?" 

"Oh my god!" she shouts, sliding off the end of the bed and collapsing into a heap at the foot of it. You step in to help her up, and she's quickly out of your arms and running down the stairs. 

"Ro!" Eddie calls. "No running down the stairs, baby, please!" 

Her footsteps noticeably slow. 

You raise an eyebrow at Eddie. "I think what you think you just said is different to what Roan thinks you just said." 

"Gee, thanks, Gollum." 

"Isn't that the gremlin guy?" you ask, genuinely hurt for a second. 

"No! No, he tells riddles, babe. 'Cause you're speaking in tongues and I don't know what you're trying to say I said." He scratches a hand through his limp hair, t-shirt sliding up to expose a slice of his stomach. "What did I say?" 

"I think," you begin, intertwining your fingers with his free hand, the two of you starting out of your room and down the stairs to find Roan before she makes a mess, "that she thinks she just got invited to a sleepover." 

Eddie pauses one step below you. "Really?" 

"I think so." 

He keeps on down, your hands swinging lightly. "Oh, whoops. It's Saturday, so I guess it doesn't matter. Do you mind?" 

"I don't mind, but she can't sleep on me all night, my chest is still sore." You had the flu recently, and it aches when you breathe in too deeply. 

"Deal, baby… how sore?" 

You wave a hand at him, pulling apart as you enter the kitchen. "Fine, just not fine for her to lean on me for eight hours." 

"She can sleep by me." 

By the time Roan and Eddie moved in, Roan was already sleeping in her own bed most nights, and even more when you started dating Eddie. But that doesn't mean she doesn't worm her way in. When you weren't at the trailer Eddie never minded having her with him (at least, when it wasn't too hot), and when you were she'd sometimes spend the night anyways despite a lack of room, citing monsters of nightmares or bad tummies. The best ones were her big pleading eyes accompanied by, "I miss you guys." Worked every time. 

Since moving in, she's spent the large majority of time in her own bed. She's getting bigger all the time, and it's just how things are. Co-sleeping ends eventually. 

Not quite yet, though. Roan still tries her luck, and most of the time you nor Eddie mind if she slips in. She insists on sleeping in the middle, usually, curled into Eddie's waist with a hand in your hand, or lying basically on top of you as Eddie sandwiches you both in his arms. 

But again, it's been happening less and less. If Roan wants to sleep in your bed tonight, you don't mind. It might be nice. You don't have to wonder if she's sleeping soundly, or if she's sitting there stiffened to silence by the creaking bathroom window echoing down the hall. 

Eddie makes Roan a sandwich and cuts it into wonky stars. She scarfs them fast and says thank you five times in a row, slamming her way back up the stairs before you've had time to sit down. Eddie smiles at you fondly. 

"She's so excited," he says, scraping her crusts into the trash. "It makes me feel bad. Wonder why we don't have her all the time." 

"'Cause she kicks in her sleep. And… you know, you don't want her to know you're the little spoon so often." 

"And she wiggles." 

You sigh. She wiggles.

While Roan's upstairs, you sidle into Eddie's arms for a last proper kiss. It's not very deep and you don't need it to be, just firm, the kind of kiss that speaks for itself. He holds your shoulders still so he can plant a couple of quick pecks atop of it. 

"Love you," you say. 

"I love you too," he says. He closes one eye to squint at you with the other, his nose wrinkling up. "I love you. You look beautiful right now, your nose." 

"My nose?" you ask. 

Random but not unusual for him, Eddie furthers his compliment easily. "It looks cute." He leans in slowly to avoid startling you and kisses the tip of it. 

You have such a crush on me, Munson, you'd usually joke, but for today you take the compliment and the kiss in stride. 

"It's an okay nose." 

"It's a great nose. And so kissable!" 

You smile. You're used to his kindness, his sweetness, his affection, but you'll never be able to understand what you did to deserve him. Everyone deserves to be loved like this, and you're the one who was lucky enough to actually have him. 

"Love you," you say again. 

"I know. Trust me, baby, I know." He returns your lovesick smile. 

"Guys, I think I dropped my toothbrush in the toilet!" 

You're both startled. Eddie walks into the hallway, head turned upward as he shouts back, "You think or you know?" 

A small, defeated grumble. "It's in the toilet, dad." 

—

Eddie wakes up early, entirely by accident. The weekend is sacred in that the only thing he asks for is some quiet in the mornings to sleep in. He turns his head to look at the time on his alarm clock. 9.47AM. Not bad. 

Your whispering woke him up. 

Against his back, curled away from you both, he can feel Roan's smaller body. She worked her way in between just as he thought she would. 

"When dad wakes up," you whisper, and Eddie thinks it's important to distinguish dad from your dad. There's something more intimate about it, he doesn't know what. "We'll let him have a shower and then I'll convince him that we need to go get pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream. And then we'll go see a movie, maybe, if they have one in the Hawk, or we could go to the movie store." 

"Really?" Roan asks, awed. 

"Yeah, baby, of course. Does that sound fun or what?" 

"Yeah, that sounds super fun… but I have to go see Uncle Wayne, too, 'cause he– he said he'd make me, um, the good hotdogs." 

"Yeah? Did he say what time?" 

"Dinner." 

"We have a big long day then," you say. He can hear your smile. "Breakfast, movie, Uncle Wayne's for dinner." 

He doesn't need to see you to know how you're laying. You'll be on your back, Roan's head on your shoulders, a hand he can feel occasionally bumping his arm each time you stroke her hair back. Sometimes, you pull your legs up, knees together. It reminds him of how young you both are. He's at the very start of his late 20s and having Roan has made him feel both younger and more naive than he ever thought he could, and it has also made him feel very, very old. He thinks this might be one of the younger moments. We're only getting started. 

"Okay. Will you help me get ready now?" 

You laugh, the bed shifting under him as you move around. Eddie doesn't turn, too tired and too content to listen to your conversation. He thinks about getting up as he hears you both leave. That was a lot of things to do and if you want to do them all he really should move. He falls back asleep before he can manage it. 

The second time he wakes, you're sitting at his hip, hand resting on his collar. 

"Hello, handsome," you say. He recognises the feeling of your thumb against his neck, petting him softly. "You wanna go get some breakfast?" 

His eyes are bleary with sleep, but you're still the prettiest thing he's ever seen. The more he knows you, the worse it gets. "You look so nice," he says, his tongue like lead in his mouth. 

"Just put a little bit of make up on. I looked tired." 

"What time is it?" 

"It's almost eleven." 

He struggles up into a sitting position. He gets a proper look at you and forgets all his aches and pains, your face and your arms and your pretty clothes at the very forefront of his thoughts immediately. He grabs your hand to make sure you're real. 

"You look so pretty," he says. 

"You're so lovely," you say back, tilting your head toward your shoulder. You're breaking his heart, looking like that. 

Roan pushes open the door. 

"Look, dad! We match!" 

And there Roan is, in a shirt and skirt with the same colours. His heart breaks all over again. His girls.

"You do," he says, nearly speechless. "You look beautiful, look at your hair!" 

You've twisted half of it up in two small ponytails at the back of her head so her face is clearly displayed. 

"Thank you. Now get up! We're gonna get waffles." 

"Oh, are we?" he asks, flopping backwards into the pillows again. "I'll get up." He lifts his head enough to show you both his serious face. "But you both have to give me a cuddle first. You know, as payment." 

"Payment for what?" you murmur, though you lean in anyway, unafraid of rumpling your nice clothes. 

He closes his eyes, feeling Roan's weight settle against his arm. 

He'll steal as many minutes as you'll both give him, and then he'll go get dressed. Today's gonna be a long day. Good, but long. 

—

more eddie and roan !! please reblog if you enjoyed!!♡

sorry for any typos, I will edit later tonight ♡♡♡♡

[weird-is-life]

hii wondering if you could do hotch x younger!reader? where he's being insecure about the age gap and comforts him and says that she loves it and he makes her feel safe and stuff --thank you in advance!

Hii, ty for the request! I hope you like this, it's short but cute, well at least I hope it is.😅🥰warnings: angsty, fluff, pet names, age gap (reader is in her late twenties or early thirties), (0.9k)

It's your birthday next week and, if truth be told, Aaron has been kind of dreading it. Not because of anything to do with you, but because it's a huge reminder of the age gap between you two.

You've been dating for a few months now and the thought's always been at the back of his head, even if he doesn't want to admit it to himself.

And his strange behaviour gets your attention. At first you brushed if off as him being tired and stressed from work. But as he zones out around you even on his days off, you know something is up.

You are both sprawled on his couch, when you notice his mind is elsewhere. So you finally decide to ask him about what is bothering him.

"Aaron?" you call out his name.

He hums, acknowledging that he is listening, even though his eyes are on the TV.

"Can I ask you something?" this finally catches his attention, making him pause the film and look at you.

"Of course, sweetheart, what is it?"

"I just....- is something wrong, Aaron?" his face scrunches in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Is it work? Or does it have something to do with me, if yes you can tell me, because I won't mind-"

"Honey, nothing is wrong with you or work," he reassures you instantly.

"Then what is it?" you question with a slightly desperate voice.

"Nothing, everything is okay," he lies, but you see right through him. His very skilled lying from work not working, when he is with you.

"Something's been bothering you lately and we both know it," you point it out softly, even if your voice is a little bit stern. He takes one look at you and sighs, he knows, he has to tell you the truth.

"Okay, yes, you are right, sweetheart," he murmurs quietly.

"What is it?" You ask with a gentle voice, putting your hand behind his neck to play with his hair.

He doesn't know how to say it, so the words just spill out of his mouth," I don't think, it's a good idea to be together."

You look at him with so much hurt and move away from him, that he immediately wants to take his words back.

"W-what?" you puzzle, your lower lip slightly wobbling.

It takes Aaron every strenght he has not to take his words back," I mean, look at you and me, honey. You are so much younger than me, you should be dating somebody close to your age. Not somebody who already has a son. I mean, I'm not even home half of the time, what kind of boyfriend does that make me?" He is frustrated, but not because of you, never because of you, he just wants you to live the life you deserve and not waste it by being with him.

And immediately after he finishes his talk your whole face changes. You go from heartbroken to angry and you slap him on the arm (gently).

"You are being ridiculous, Hotchner," you argue. You are frowning so much at him, that in any other situation Aaron would have laughed at your expression.

"But I'm not, I'm being serious. You shouldn't be waiting almost every day for me to finally come home from work. You should be out going on dates, that you deserve, and I can't always, almost never do that-"

you put your hand over his mouth before he can continue. "Shut up, I can't believe you right now," you shake your head in disagreement,

"do you love me?"

Your question seems absurd to Aaron, because it is so obvious. "Of course, I do, sweetheart. But it doesn't change the fact-"

"But it does. You love me and I love you. I don't care, what other people say or think. And i don't care, that you aren't home as much as we would both like. But when you are, you always make it worth it, always. And I like being home with Jack, I don't even really like going out, I'd rather just be home with you guys."

"Plus, have you seen yourself? Guys around my age have nothing on you, handsome. You are too good looking to get rid of me this easily. " Your last sentence is teasing, but that doesn't mean your words are any less true.

"Really?" It's not often that Aaron feels uncertain about things as he does now. So your words are like a warm hug for him. Making him let out the breath, he didn't even realise he was holding.

"Yes, really," you scooch closer to him, caressing both of his cheeks," I love you Aaron. There is never a moment, that makes me doubt you or doubt us. What made you feel this way, huh?"

"I guess, it's always been somewhere on my mind," he confesses, as he completely melts under your hands.

"You should have said something earlier then, " you scowl at him," but I'm glad you told me now. We talk more about it later, yeah and work things out?"

"I love you," he doesn't know what else to say. He shows you his gratitude for you and your reassurance by kissing you, once, twice and more, until you loose the count of them.

There's still a little uncertainty about this for Aaron, but with you by his side, he knows, it will be okay.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for calling animal rescue/welfare on my mom who loves her pets?

My mom has 2 cats and 1 dog. I want to start off by saying that she doesn't physically abuse her animals.

They're in a weird state of being really emotionally spoiled and completely physically neglected. The dog sleeps in bed with her and is always on the sofa, doesn't get told off when he pees and poops in the house, and the cats are always getting cuddles. The cats are getting kinda fat because they're fed a lot.

My mom is an alcoholic and she doesn't look after herself or her home at all. It's been years since she showered or bathed, she goes weeks without changing her clothes except for when she works, her house is genuinely falling completely apart. Cupboard doors are falling off at the hinges and propped up with buckets, doors don't close, carpets are coming up off the floor, wallpaper is peeling, the shower door fell off and shattered, the toilet lid is cracked in half, the floors are too dirty to step on without shoes, the entire house STINKS of animal urine and there are stains everywhere. A couple of years back she had an insect infestation in one of the bedrooms.

Now, my mom loves her pets and really emotionally relies on them. Ever since I moved out she's been alone and has regressed even worse because when she's at home she has nothing to do but drink and watch TV. The pets are her only company most days.

However, her bad hygiene and home care translates to them. It has been YEARS since the dog was walked, and months since he even got a cursory trip over the road to the small grass area outside her house. His fur is always matted, and he recently had fleas (god knows how when he doesn't leave the house but there you go). He has bald patches of fur missing. He pees and poops all over the floors and carpets because he just doesn't get let outside to do it enough - and he runs away or hides when you find it so he 100% knows he's not supposed to, he just doesn't have a choice because he's not able to go into the garden. His claws are always so long they're bothering him when he walks, and as gross as it is to describe there have been COUNTLESS times I've visited and he's had literal shit caked onto his fur around his tail because he's had diarrhea and when I've pointed it out that he needs to be washed my mom brushes it off with "It's only a little bit" and continues to let him onto the bed/couch.

The cats are mildly better off because they can clean themselves, but their litter trays are always OVERFLOWING - like, genuinely, mountains of cat poop piling up in the trays to the point where they're going on the floor because they don't have room in the tray - and one of them is sleeping in a bed that is Caked in vomit stains, clumps of hair, other miscellaneous marks, all of that.

I've called someone about it before when I still lived there, and a woman did stop by to check it out and told my mom that the cat litters were unacceptable, but my mom just lies to them. According to her the dog gets walked twice a day without fail, gets a ton of enrichment, everything, and you can't really prove her to be lying. The woman told her she'd drop by in a week to check on the litters, my mom kept them clean until she came back and gave the okay, and then just went right back to neglecting them and nothing was done about it.

I have no idea what to do anymore but I want to call again and really impress upon them that they're not being cared for. I sent photos and video evidence last time along with an explanation, but it doesn't seem like it got me anywhere at all. I just don't know what else to do. I've brought up the idea of taking at least the dog with me to my new place (it's very nearby so she'd still be able to visit him and I'd be able to walk him up to her house), but she VEHEMENTLY objected and told me she'd never be able to let him go.

I'm not sure what it would do tbh, even disregarding that she'd probably just get a new pet I would be genuinely worried she'd lose all interest in life if they were taken away.

TL;DR Mom's alcoholism means she doesn't look after her pets and they're not being cared for at all, but taking them away would severely impact her mental health.

WIBTA for calling animal services on her again?

What are these acronyms?

[eddiemunsonswhxre]

drunken confession / eddie munson

masterlist

one shot

cw: begins angst, drunk eddie, tooth rooting-ly sweet love confession, fem!reader

after being upset because you got a date, eddie drinks himself to blackout and ends up revealing how he's imagined your wedding

--

 “eddie!” you squealed as you bursted into the hellfire room. eddie looked up from his throne where he was sat working on notes for his next campaign. hellfire had ended twenty minutes ago, but eddie was always here late.

  a big smile takes over eddie’s features at the sight of you. you were his best friend and the sight of you could make even his darkest moments be overtaken with happiness. “well, hi there, sweetness,” he chuckled as you wrapped your arms around his upper body in an excited hug.

  you pulled away with a grimace on your face. “i’m being too much again, aren’t i?” you mutter in embarrassment. eddie grabs your hand, pulling you to stand in the middle of his legs.

  he shakes his head and holds both your hands in his. “no, you’re not. it’s adorable, y/n, i tell you everytime,” he reassures you. you look away from him with heated cheeks as you smile. “so, are you gonna tell me why you came in here screaming like you just got pit tickets to metallica?” he quirks an eyebrow.

  you giggle at his facial expression and shake your head. “charlie asked me on a date!” you say excitedly, squeezing eddie’s hands. his smile drops for a second, but you don’t notice as you keep rambling. “like, he asked me, ME! and i’ve been interested in him for what? months now? and who would’ve thought, a basketball STARTER asks me out?” you question in disbelief, radiating pure happiness. 

  eddie tries to replace his smile as he lets your words sink it. he knew what you meant and why you were so shocked. you weren’t part of the popular crowd, but you weren’t labeled as a freak either even though you were best friends with the hellfire king himself. you were pretty quiet, more of a nerd who never fully left her awkward stage. and eddie loved that about you.

  he clears his throat and weakly squeezes your hands back. “that’s great, y/n,” he says, trying to sound sincere. 

  you squeal again, bouncing from foot to foot. “i know!” you say excitedly.

  eddie hopes for once you can’t read him like a book. “well, where’s he taking you?” he asks, trying to seem interested when really he didn’t know if he even wanted to know the details.

  you lean back on the table and pull your hands from eddie’s to prop yourself up. “we’re going to the drive in, isn’t that so cool? i’ve always wanted to go. and he has a truck so we can go stargazing after and lay in the back and it’ll be so romantic, eek!” you say, stomping your feet.

  eddie feels a sharp pain dig at his heart. stargazing was your thing. he knew how much you loved it so every night it was clear he’d pick you up and take you out to the hill where dustin once set up his super radio and you’d lay under the stars for hours. he didn’t want you to do that with charlie. he didn’t want you to take him to your spot. “you never told me you wanted to go to the drive in?” eddie finally questioned, his voice raising slightly.

  you shrugged, brushing it off while it broke him inside. he knew everything about you… or at least he thought. “you always talk about how cliche it is. and how it’s a waste of money to sit in your car and watch a movie when you could be on your own couch. thought you wouldn’t want to go, so i never asked,” you explained and eddie’s smile did drop.

  “i would’ve gone with you if you did ask,” he says, hating that he’d pushed away the possibility of taking you to do something you so badly wanted. 

  you wave him off as if it’s nothing. “it’s okay, eds. you wouldn’t enjoy it so there’s no point,” you say with a smile. there is a point. you. he would do anything to make you happy.

  there’s a bit of silence as you wait for eddie to say something else. “when is… when’s your date?” he asks, feigning curiosity. 

  your smile gets wide again as you think of it. “tomorrow night. oh god, i need to find out what outfit to wear,” you say in realization. eddie’s heart rips farther in two. tomorrow. he didn’t have time to convince you not to go if he decided to.

  he bites the inside of his cheek to hold back his emotions. “wow, that’s close,” he says with a short nod.

  you smile, looking up to the sky as you think maybe just maybe you’ll finally get your chance at a relationship. “yeah. well, i should get going, mom’s got the night shift so ginny probably needs let out,” you say, pushing yourself up. eddie nods, not wanting to say much more. “seeya,” you say, leaning down and kissing his cheek like you normally do.

  eddie wants to cry. you wouldn’t be able to do that much more if you got a boyfriend. “seeya,” he waves. you give him another smile over your shoulder before scampering out of the room. he deflates into his throne, throwing his hands over his face as he feels his world begin to crumble. he had to expect this would happen one day if he never told you how he felt.

~

  at about one in the morning you wake up to your phone ringing. you groan, being woken up from your wonderful dream about rob lowe. you blink a couple times before sitting up and grabbing the phone from your nightstand. “hello?” you question groggily, hoping whoever was on the other line has a damn good reason for calling you this late. 

  “y/n, hey, it’s mike,” mike wheeler says into the phone.

  you furrow your eyebrows, wondering why some freshman is calling you in the middle of a friday night. “mike? what do you need at one in the morning?” you ask in annoyance until your body floods with panic. “are you okay? is something wrong?” you ask frantically.

  mike let’s out a breath on the other line. “no one’s hurt or anything but i need your help,” he says.

  you let the panic fade from your body and sigh in relief. “okay? with what?” you ask.

  mike winces to himself, not wanting to explain. “well, we all went to gareth’s after hellfire for a party since his parents are never home, you know. very last minute type thing otherwise you would’ve been invited i’m sure-“ mike panics.

  “mike, it’s okay, i don’t care about being invited,” you laugh.

  you can see mike relax in your head at your words, causing you to smile in amusement. “yeah okay, um, so eddie got here later and then we all started drinking. everyone’s drunk except me really and eddie keeps trying to leave. he keeps talking about how he needs to go for a ride and is getting pissed because we’re hiding his keys. i’ve never seen him so drunk and he screamed at gareth about how he doesn’t want to be here and that someone needs to take him home or to your house. he’s been talking about you for the past hour and everyone who can drive is too drunk so could you please come get him? he’s not angry anymore, just really drunk and persisting he sees you and honestly it’s annoying,” mike rambles on.

  you put your head in your hands as you took a minute to think. eddie never got this drunk and he knew better than to drink and drive. “uh, yeah. i’ll be right there,” you finally say, pushing the blankets off you and standing up.

  “oh thank god,” mike breaths into the receiver. “you’re honestly amazing, y/n and i- eddie! hey, hey get away from the window. oh my- i gotta go,” mike says and then hangs up. you move to throw on a pair of pajama pants instead of your shorts and throw a zip up hoodie on over your tank top. 

  you jog down the stairs, grabbing your keys and running out to your car after locking the door. luckily, you and gareth lived only about five minutes from each other so it wasn’t too hard to get there quickly. when you pulled in the driveway, mike and gareth were standing outside as eddie laid on the ground pouting.

  you jumped out of your car and walked towards them. “eddie,” you called out, grabbing the long haired boys' attention. mike sighed in relief at the sight of you as eddie rolled over to push himself.

  “y/n!” he says excitedly, standing only to start swaying and stumbling. you make it to him, grabbing ahold of him and trying to stabilize him. “i was just thinking about you,” eddie slurs, trying to reach up and grab your face. you put his hands down to his sides causing him to frown.

  you turn to look at gareth and mike. “i know you said he had a lot to drink, but how much are we talking?” you ask worriedly. you’d never seen him this drunk either. eddie held his alcohol well, he was nowhere near a lightweight.

  gareth purses his lips and looks to mike. “he had a six pack to himself,” he says, looking at eddie who was staring at the side of your face.

  “and he’s been drinking straight out of the vodka bottle for the past hour. i don’t know how full it was when he got it but there’s only like a fourth left,” mike continues.

  you nod and then look to eddie. “what were you thinking, eddie? you don’t even like getting wasted,” you sigh.

  eddie gives you a toothy grin before looking at your clothes. “what time is it?” he murmurs.

  “it’s almost one thirty in the morning, eds,” you say.

  his face scrunches up in confusion. “but you gaw… woah, you go to bed at like ten or e-eleven,” he hiccups.

  you nod in confirmation. “yeah, but mike called saying your dumbass was trying to drive to my house while you’re like this. so i came to get you,” you say.

  eddie takes a moment before turning to mike, now angry. “hey! how dare you wake her up, wheeler, she stays on a schedule,” he yells, his finger pointed as he tries walking to him.

  you step in front of him and grab his arms to steady him again. “eddie, stop. i’m here already so let’s just go, yeah?” you say trying to calm him. 

  he looks at you for a minute before nodding. “i’ll help you get him to the car,” gareth says and you nod. it’s not hard to see gareth is also pretty drunk, therefore you’re glad they had called you to get eddie.

  eddie thumps his head on your car as he gets in causing him to cuss. mike hands you his things and you sigh. “sorry for waking you, i just knew i had to call,” mike says and you shake your head.

  you pull him into a side hug as eddie is finally sat in the car seat. “i’m glad you did, i’ve never seen him this bad,” you say, more concerned than you’re showing you are. 

  “do you want me to go with you? help with getting him to bed and stuff?” he asks, looking down (damn this kid is tall) at you. 

  you shake your head once again. “nah, i got him. you keep a look out for everyone else, okay?” you say and walk to the door. you close the car door on him, causing him to jump. mike and gareth bid you goodbye and good luck before you get in the car. eddie watches you carefully, eyes bigger than normal as you placed his stuff on the dash. “give me your seat belt,” you say, holding your hand out. it takes him a moment of fumbling with it before he can grab it and hand it to you.

  you buckle him in and he giggles. “i'm a child,” he mumbles to himself. you buckle yourself in and start your car as eddie mumbles to himself. “where are we going?” he asks once you get to the end of gareth's road.

  “my house,” you tell him, your mind scattered as you come up with a plan. 

  eddie gasps and it causes you to look at him alarmed. “that’s where i - i wanted to go,” he hiccups, looking at you as if you were psychic. 

  you hum in response, letting him talk nonsense the rest of the way to your house. when you finally get there, you unbuckle him. he silently watches you get out of the car and finally understands that he should too. he opens the door, moving to get out but almost face planting. luckily you’re there to catch him once again. “eddie, you need to just wait for me, okay?” you sigh, using all your body weight to pull him up.

  a frown covers eddie’s face as he feels bad. “m’sorry,” he mumbles sadly. 

  he tries his best to stay steady as you walk him in the house and all the way up to your room on the second floor. he sees you walking towards your bed to set him down but he stops you. “wait,” he mutters and you look up to him. “i-i have to piss,” he tells you, slightly embarrassed.

  you close your eyes but nod. “can you… can you do it by yourself?” you ask, voice cracking. eddie nods quickly so you guide him towards your en suite bathroom instead. “i’m gonna leave the door open just in case so i’ll be right here, alright?” you question as eddie leans against your sink.

  “okay,” he says and then pushes himself towards your toilet. you lean against the wall, picking at your nails as you wait for eddie to finish up. eddie grumbles and tears come to his eyes as he tries to unbuckle his belt. he was so frustrated and mad at himself for being so drunk he couldn’t get his pants off. he couldn’t even see straight, let alone grab his belt buckle. he let out a whine as a few tears fell from his eyes. “y/n, can you… i-i need help,” he calls out pathetically. he turns towards the doorway where you cautiously step in.

  you frown when you see his tears and quickly walk up to him. “hey, hey, it’s okay. why are you crying, eds?” you ask, grabbing his face in your hands to wipe the tears away with your thumbs. he closes his eyes as his lip quivers.

  he leans into your delicate touch and stays quiet for a moment until he remembers he could piss himself at any moment. “i can’t undo my pants,” he whispers, refusing to make eye contact with you. 

  you nod slowly, pushing away the thoughts of how awkward this was because he was so drunk he wouldn’t remember this tomorrow. “it’s okay, eddie. i can help, okay? no big deal, no more tears,” you comfort and he sniffles. you reach down to his belt, ignoring your previous fantasies of doing this in much different circumstances. there was nothing hidden behind this, you were just a friend helping a friend. you unbuckle it quickly before sticking your fingers slightly into the waistband of his skinny jeans to pop the button. you grab the zipper and pull it down for him before moving your hands to his upper arms. “you got it now?” you ask, praying to every god that he does.

  “thank you,” he murmurs as he nods and leaves a wet, sloppy kiss on your forehead. 

  you go back to waiting outside the door, ignoring the sound as best as you could. when you hear him start to try and redo this pants you call out. “eds, don’t try and put them back on we’re just gonna go to bed,” you say and wait for him to drunkenly stumble out to you. you wrap an arm around his waist and bring him to your bed. he flops down quite hard but just giggles as he bounces. you smile at how cute he is.

  you kneel slightly in front of him which causes his eyes to widen. “i like this posit-“ he tries to flirt but you slap his leg.

  he exaggerates a reaction but goes back to smiling at you. you untie his signature shoes, pulling them from his feet and setting them at the end of your bed. you pull off his socks as well, knowing he’d refuse to sleep with them on before reaching up to his hips. “okay, dumbass, can you push your hips up for me?” you ask with a fond smile. eddie does as you tell him too, barely able to hold himself up very long. you make it quick and put his jeans with his shoes before standing up between his legs. 

  “you’re so good to me,” eddie smiles, the last couple words sounding like one. you roll your eyes and help him out of his vest and jacket. “m’serious,” he mumbles. “y/n,” he calls, trying to get you to respond.

  you fold his jacket, laying it with the rest of his clothes before raising your brows. “yes, eddie, i’m listening,” you say, stepping back to him. “shirt on or off?” you ask, and eddie blinks.

  he thinks for a moment before looking down at his hellfire shirt. “off,” he finally says and you reach down to grab the hem of his shirt. “i love you, y/n,” he slurs, putting up his arms so you can pull the shirt over his head.

  “i know, bub, i love you too,” you reply as you normally do while folding his shirt up.

  eddie knows you mean it as a friend, but that’s not how he means it. he wants to tell you. he wants to beg you not to go out with charlie because he knew he could treat you better. and he goes to open his mouth to do just that but you’re cutting him off. “i’m gonna go put on some other pajamas, go ahead and lay down,” you instruct before walking to your drawers. it was too warm to wear your thick pajama pants, so you were going to put back on your shorts. your tank top however, that was a bit too revealing so you decided on a white t-shirt instead.

  when you came back out of the bathroom, eddie was laying on your pillow and staring at the ceiling. he looked up at you as you turned off your lights and climbed into bed. you handed him an unopened water bottle from next to you as you sat next to him. “sit up a bit and drink some, hopefully it’ll help your hangover a little,” you say carefully, watching eddie push himself up.

  when he hands the water back to you, he looks down to your shirt. “you always look so beautiful in white,” he compliments, laying on his side as you’re still propped against your headboard. 

  you laugh at him and brush some hair out of his face. “thanks eddie, but i barely wear it,” you say. 

  eddie shakes his head lightly. “you wore a white dress to that fundraiser banquet your sophomore year, you remember the one for the homeless kids?” he says. you furrow your eyebrows at how he remembered something from over two years ago now but nod. “i think that day was it for me,” eddie confirms quietly.

  “i don’t know what you mean, eds,” you say as you run your fingers through his hair.

  eddie hums in delight as your fingers scratch his scalp. “i think i fell in love with you that day,” he murmurs as he wraps an arm around your legs and cuddles into your hip. your fingers still at his words. “i saw you, in the pretty and frilly white dress with the lace on the sleeves and i asked myself if you’d wear something as beautiful on our wedding day,” he says, speaking more into your leg.

  “eddie,” you say lightly, petting his hair as you feel guilty. he was drunk, he didn’t know what he was saying.

  eddie shakes his head at you. “i’ve actually had our wedding planned for like a year. we’d have it at that old greenhouse on knox, the one i used to take you exploring at when i was a junior. you loved that place, i don’t know why we don’t go anymore,” he observes, eyes closed in bliss as he talks.

  you bit your lip. “eddie,” you try stopping him once more.

  “it’d be during the winter, preferably january, because you love the snow. we could renovate the place, have it heated and shit. the colors would be green, dark green like you like, and then gray or maybe silver, i don’t know you could pick. and you’d want us to decorate with plants, lots of them, and those stupid twinkle lights you can’t buy enough of,” he keeps talking and you feel a lump grow in your throat.

  he’d really thought so hard about this? “eddie, please, stop talking. you’re going to regret this in the morning,” you beg.

  eddie waves you off, knowing that this needed to all come out. “we wouldn’t have the basic song to walk down the isle to though, you’d probably want the beatles or something and i’d let you. your niece amy, she’ll be old enough by then, could be the flower girl,” eddie continues, amazing you not only at how thought out this is but the fact that he doesn’t sound so drunk anymore.

  your hand reaches up to cover your mouth as tears build behind your lashes. “you always talk about wanting a chocolate lab, so i told myself that if i finally got the nerve to ask you out and once we graduate we could move in together and i’d buy you one. how cute would it be to have our dog be the ring bearer?” he chuckles to himself.

  “eddie, you’re drunk,” you say, tears falling from your eyes.

  eddie shrugs. “i still mean it,” he says, rubbing circles on your thigh. “i don’t know who you’d have as your bridesmaids, i assume robin would be your maid of honor but i don’t know about the rest. my best man would be gareth, obviously. we’d have the reception in the same place and for dinner we’d have chicken alfredo, or maybe if you wanted something less messy we could do grilled chicken and vegetables and stuff,” he keeps going.

  “we’d both cry at the speeches because come on, i'm a sap. and then we’d have our first dance. we’d dance to always and forever by heatwave, yeah, that’d be our song. the first time you got high with me we danced to that in my kitchen, you were only fifteen. i had just turned seventeen then, but i knew that i really liked you. you’d get a dance with your dad and i would probably end up dancing with steve as my mom but it would be funny so i don’t care.”

  eddie knew he was word vomiting at this point, but he was too drunk to switch it off. “you’d probably want something like raspberry lemon cake, but i really can’t eat that shit no matter how hard i try for you so we’d have to get at least a part of it be vanilla or chocolate. we’d do the cute thing where we feed each other cake but i would most definitely shove cake in your face. unless you got me first. it would be the happiest day ever. we’d dance all night, probably get pretty drunk and then it’d be over. i would get to take you home, to our home, and we’d smoke a blunt and talk about the rest of our lives. we would most definitely fuck, but i’ll spare you those fantasies, promise it would be romantic though,” he reassures, kissing the bare skin of your upper thigh.

  tears were free falling down your cheeks now. eddie had been in love with you for three years? so much so that he planned this all? you felt stupider than ever for never believing he could like you. of course you had a crush on eddie, did you love him? well… after that it would be hard not to. “i-i don’t know what to say,” you whisper.

  eddie closes his eyes, feeling exhaustion take over him. “s’okay. time to go to bed,” he mutters, blinding reaching up to grab your side and pull you down. you let him hold you tightly, moving up to rest his head atop yours as you cry. he’s snoring in minutes. you however are up late, thinking of just how you were going to tackle tomorrow.

~

  eddie woke up with a groan, burying his face into his pillow as the sunlight burns his eyes. he takes a deep breath, trying to will away the pounding in his head. he’s taken aback when he inhales the scent of your shampoo. he pushes himself up, opening his eyes and grunting from the irritation. he finds he is in fact in your bed in your empty room. 

  when the hell did he get here? he rubbed his eyes, looking to the clock on your bedside table. it was almost two in the afternoon. he sighed in relief when he saw a bottle of tylenol on your bedside table along with a glass of water. “what a godsend,” he mutters to himself as he grabs the bottle. he sees a piece of notebook paper sat underneath it and picks it up too.

good morning (or afternoon) eds,

i didn’t want to wake you up since you were so drunk last night, you needed the sleep. i had some important things i needed to do but i should be back by three or so, please stay if you don’t have anything to do. mom and dad know you’re here, if you go downstairs they’ll make you something to eat.

-y/n

  eddie smiles at your note and takes the tylenol. he gets himself out of your bed, helping himself to use your bathroom and shower as usual. it takes about thirty minutes and then he’s walking downstairs in his clothes from last night, hair still soaking wet, and a killer headache.

  “sleeping beauty is awake, i see,” your mom teases eddie as he steps into the living room. he blushes looking down as your parents look to him. “y/n said you got pretty drunk last night, you feeling okay?” she asked, standing up to walk to him. just like you, she was extremely caring.

  eddie just shrugs. “got a bad headache but that’s my fault. to be honest i don’t even know how i got here,” he explains.

  your mom nodded and felt his forehead with the back of her hand, just checking. “y/n said she went to pick you up from gareth’s. what do you want for lunch hun? i’ll make you something,” she questions, walking towards the kitchen.

  “oh, you don’t have to make anything i was just going to get a pb&j,” he waves, following after her.

  your mom walks to the fridge and opens it. “if you want a sandwich at least make a good one. here, i got this new honey ham from the deli, you should try it,” she smiles, putting it on the counter. “help yourself to anything else, you know this,” she says, patting his arm and leaving the kitchen. 

  eddie loved your house. he loved your parents. it really felt like a home here and your parents loved having him over. your mom was a nurse and worked a lot of night shifts but she was super caring and you really did look just like her. your dad was a businessman and worked on marketing all over the country. he traveled a lot and was definitely more intimidating than your mom. eddie and him still got along, but he’d definitely rather talk to your mom.

  eddie jumps as he feels a hand clap his shoulder as he unties the bread bag. “hey, son,” your dad says, causing him to let out a breath.

  “hey, ken,” eddie says with a small smile.

  “so, i don’t know if y/n told you but i was just in LA,” he starts and eddie turns to look at him.

  he nods. “she did, was it as amazing as it’s supposed to be?” he asks, genuinely interested.

  your dad shrugs, a sly smile on his face. “i’m more of small town guy but it was alright,” he says and eddie nods in understanding. “but hey, remember that tape you made for y/n?” he brings up.

  eddie chuckles. “which one, she’s had me make her tons?” 

  “the one of you, your band, corroded coffin?” he says and eddie’s eyes widen.

  that type of music was definitely not something your dad would like. oh god he hoped he didn’t listen to it and think he was insane or something. “oh, yeah, that one,” eddie gulps.

  your dad smiles and leans back against the counter. “well, son, i took it with me out to LA to show to one of my friends in the industry,” he says, reaching into his back pocket. he holds out a small card. “this is the record company he works for, they’re interested in you guys. wants to fly you out after graduation and record a demo, see how it goes,” he smirks as eddie takes the card.

  his eyes are wide as saucers. “are you for real?” he asks in a shaky voice, looking down at the card and scanning it.

  “sure am, son. they’re out of office until monday, but you should talk to your band and give them a call,” he says. eddie puts his hand to his mouth, feeling like life wasn’t real. “hey,” ken says, catching eddie’s attention.

  he pulls eddie into a hug which eddie greatly accepts. “thank you so much, ken. this means everything you have no idea,” he says.

  ken pulls back and shakes his head. “no, thank you, kid. this was the least i could do,” he purses his lips. eddie looks at him in confusion. “before y/n met you she wasn’t the same. she was going through a rough patch and you brought our happy girl back,” ken explains.

  eddie was in shock over many things as he continued making his sandwich, ate it, and went back up to your room after talking a bit more with your parents. when you finally came back around three eddie was so excited to tell you the news. your dad didn’t tell you yet, wanting eddie to share his excitement with you.

  your door opened and eddie sprung up from the bed. you barely closed the door behind you before eddie was wrapping his arms around your waist and picking you up to twirl you. you screamed in surprise at his action. “eddie, i have bags!” you yelled. eddie put you down long enough for you to free your hands before crushing you in a hug again.

  “guess what?” he asks, all giddy. you feel confused. he obviously didn’t remember last night and right now you felt extremely weird letting him act like it hadn’t happened.

  you figured you couldn’t ruin his excitement, so you’d just put off the start of your plan a few extra minutes. “what, eddie? what has you squeezing me like we’ve been separated for five years?” you ask with a giggle. he pulls away and places the business card in your hand. 

  you look at it in confusion. ready records? “your dad took one of the corroded coffin tapes to LA and showed it to his buddy from this record company. they want to fly us out after graduation and record a demo. if it goes well then they’ll sign us,” he says excitedly. your jaw drops and you throw your arms around him.

  “eds, that’s amazing!” you squeal, holding him tight.

  “i know!” he matches you, rocking you two back and forth. you pull away and place a kiss to each of his cheeks causing him to blush.

  you hold his face in your hands. “you deserve it, eddie. you really do. ack! and i'm gonna be able to go to your shows when you blow up!” you say, jumping up and down. you almost blow your plan and lean in to kiss him then, but you don’t. 

  eddie kisses your forehead back, the biggest smile across his face. “i was thinking we could go out and tell the guys. get pizza and celebrate together?” he says excitedly. your smile falters and eddie looks at you worried for a moment before his own face falls. he lets go of you and takes a step back. “right, you have a date,” he says, and you now know just how much it’s killing him inside.

  “i’m not going on the date, i canceled,” you said causing eddie’s brows to scrunch together. so many thoughts were running through his mind but he couldn’t lie he was happy about it.

  he didn’t want you to know that, so he tried his best to act concerned. “oh. why? i-i thought you really liked charlie,” he questions.

  you shake your head, biting your lip to keep from blurting out that you know. “i wanted to spend the night with you instead. just us, if… if that’s okay?” you whisper, looking down to the ground.

  eddie feels majorly confused. no, it wasn’t odd for you guys to hang out just the two of you, it really was basically every weekend. but, you had been so excited about this date… “no, yeah, that’s totally okay. but, why y/n?” he asks again.

  you shake your head and wave him off. “i’m gonna take you to go get your van so you can go home and change out of yesterday's clothes. wear something kinda nice… but i’ll be back at about seven to pick you up,” you explain. eddie opens his mouth to question you but you just smile. “no questions,” you say and turn around. 

  you do as you said you would, taking eddie to his van before going home to make everything look cute. including yourself. 

  it took some digging but you finally found the white frilly dress with the lace on the sleeves that you hadn’t worn since sophomore year. you were surprised it still fit you. you’d filled out more since then and it definitely hugged your ass a bit tighter than you’d like but oh well. your cleavage was also more on display but you didn’t mind, you knew eddie would love it. you threw on a small amount of makeup and opted for your white converse since you’d have a bit of a walk. 

  “what’re you doing?” your mom asks, sipping her glass of wine as you pull the picnic basket out of the hallway closet.

  you purse your lips and avoid looking at her. “i’m taking eddie on a date,” you say plainly, turning and walking to the kitchen. 

  your mom’s eyes bulge and she quickly follows after you. “you are?! when did this happen?” she asks excitedly. her raised voice catches the attention of your dad, so he also follows you into the kitchen. 

  you set the basket on the counter with a sigh and reach for one of the bags you’d brought home. “nothing has happened yet, mom. he doesn’t even know it’s a date yet,” you explain, pulling out the two boxes from the bakery, each containing a single slice of cake.

  “you and eddie are going on a date?” your dad asks and you wince. you turn to them both and sigh.

  ever since you were little you’d told your parents everything. you had a relationship with them that most kids would be jealous of and you were forever thankful. “last night, when eddie was drunk, he told me he was in love with me. he-he said a lot of stuff actually but he doesn’t remember it,” you say and watch smiles cover your parents faces.

  “what’d he say?” your mom asks and you cover your face with your hands.

  did you really want to tell them about this and your plan? “well… he mentioned how he’s imagined how it would be to um get married… to me. so i was going to take part of that and uh- use it to ask him out,” you say, avoiding eye contact.

  your dad smirks. “so he’s whipped? see linda, i told you!” he says, grabbing your mom by the waist.

  she scoffs, leaning into him. “like i ever disagreed,” she mutters.

  “you guys knew?” you ask, slightly dumbfounded.

  your mom gives you a smile and walks up to you. she grabs your hands after setting down her wine glass. “baby, i think the only people who didn’t know you and eddie have been in love with each other for a very long time was yourselves,” she says and it makes your heart soar.

  “i think i hurt him,” you admit, sighing as you closed your eyes. “you know the charlie guy from school? who i said i liked? we were supposed to go on a date tonight. obviously, i canceled but i was so excited to tell eddie about it and now that i think about it, it definitely hurt him really bad,” you say.

  your dad comes up, placing a hand on your shoulder. “did you like this charlie kid?” he asks.

  you shake your head no. “he was nice, and i never thought eddie would like me so i thought he was my chance. turns out he was just a distraction,” you say.

  “well, that’s over now. let me help you pack for this date,” your mom says, smiling and moving to the bags. 

~

  just before seven, you pulled up outside eddie’s trailer. you bit your nails anxiously as you waited for him to come out, hoping you’d grabbed everything to make this perfect. eddie came out the door, wearing a pair of his signature black ripped jeans with his chains only this time he wore a white button up that he most definitely took from wayne. he had his jacket over his arm as he bounded down the few steps and to your car.

  you took a deep breath as he reached for the door handle. “this nice enough for ya, princess?” he teases, getting in the car.

  his eyes catch the dress you’re wearing and he freezes for a moment. “you look absolutely dashing, eddie,” you joke and throw your car in reverse.

  he scans the dress, it looking exactly how he remembered it to except it was definitely tighter in certain areas. “you look really beautiful,” he says seriously, causing a blush to take over your cheeks. he blinks, realizing what he just said and turning to face the road. “so uh, what are we doing?” he asks.

  “it’s a surprise,” you say, pulling up to the stop sign at the entrance of the trailer park.

  eddie frowns. “i hate surprises,” he says, pouting.

  you shake your head at him before turning up the radio, one of the many tapes he made you playing. “you’ll love this one, promise,” you say, holding out your pinkie. he eyes it for a moment but wraps his pinkie around yours.

  the two of you sing along to the songs as eddie tries to figure out where you’re taking him. you pass the leaving hawkins sign and eddie furrows his brows. there’s only one place this far out you’ve gone before. the old abandoned greenhouse.

  you hadn’t been there in probably a year and eddie wondered why you decided to go there today of all days. “the greenhouse?” he questions over the music. you smile and nod, turning onto knox road. you pull into the familiar lot and turn off your car.

  “help me carry stuff, munson,” you say, hoping out of your car. eddie follows you to your trunk, a look of puzzlement on his face as he examines its contents. a big blanket, a picnic basket, and a boom box. you grab the heavy boom box and hand it to him.

  he takes it, chuckling at your struggle as he takes the blanket in his other hand. “what’s this all about?” he questions with a smile. 

  you grab the picnic basket and close the trunk. you reach up, kissing him on his cheek before turning and scampering away. “let’s go, eds, i'm hungry,” you giggle.

  eddie watches you with pure love in his eyes. the lowering sun was casting beautiful shadows, turning your white dress that he loved so much golden. your hair blew in the the slight breeze as he watched you step over a log and make your way up the small hill to the greenhouse. he jogs to catch up with you, wondering how you could be so perfect.

  you push open the fragile door that was barely still on its hinges and sighed at the view. a wedding here would be gorgeous. it was super dirty right now, but with a little cleaning, some new wiring, and a few replaced window it would be perfect. 

  eddie walked slowly, taking in the place as you walked over to the place he’d many times imagined the two of you standing under a wedding arch. he wondered how you’d react if you knew, but he couldn’t risk that. “come on slow poke, i need the blanket,” you say, snapping him from his daydream.

  you kick a few stray rocks out of the way as eddie sets down the boom box. the two of you grab the edges of the blanket and lay it out. you gesture for eddie to sit as you move the basket to the blanket and he does. “you gonna tell me what this is yet, dork?” he asks as you pull out two insulated bowl type things.

  you dig around for some silverware and shrug. “can’t two friends just enjoy a date night together?” you ask smugly, reaching for the bottle of champagne your mom let you take (only if you promised to drink one glass and one glass only).

  eddie chokes on his spit, eyes widening. “a date?” he asks immediately and you feel warmth fill your chest.

  “is that okay?” you ask, pulling out the glasses.

  eddie feels his mouth go dry as he re-assess the situation. a date? was this really a date? but you said friends. but do friends have date nights? “uh, yeah, yeah, that’s- that’s fine,” he confirms. you smile handing him one of the bowls and a fork before popping the top off the champagne.

  you pour the two glasses, carefully setting them on the blanket before grabbing your own bowl. “well eat, weirdo,” you chuckle and open yours. eddie follows your actions, still slightly taken aback by the whole date thing.

  “chicken alfredo?” he questions, not surprised by your choice as he digs in.

  you laugh, chewing your bite and swallowing before responding. “it’s from enzo’s, it’s the good stuff!” you say with a big smile. eddie smiles back at you, and the two of you fall into usual conversation.

  when you finally finish, eddie falls back with his hands placed on his stomach. “i’m stuffed,” he mutters, closing his eyes.

  you nudge his thigh with your knee. he looks to see you with a pout on your face. “but i bought dessert,” you say. eddie smiles at how cute you are and props himself up on his elbows.

  “well, i guess since you already bought it…” he trails, admiring the smile that comes back on your face. you quickly hand him the black box and a new fork as you grab your own. “oo, cake?” he questions, looking at the moist and fluffy chocolate cake.

  you smile, wanting him to start to take the hints. “yep, i got you chocolate and i got raspberry lemon,” you say. eddie just nods as you shuffle closer to him. “can we do the cute thing?” you ask shyly.

  eddie looks up to you, smirking. “you want me to do you?” he flirts. you roll your eyes fondly but give him a curious look. “you’re gonna have to elaborate, sweetheart,” he says, raising his brows.

  you bite your bottom lip before reaching to his cake and digging your fork into it. “can we feed it to each other?” you ask quietly and eddie feels his heart skip.

  his mind goes fuzzy and you can see it on his face. chicken alfredo. raspberry lemon. the greenhouse. his fantasies. he blinks rapidly, looking at you in slight panic. did you know? how could you know? he’s never told anyone about them… you just look at him expectantly, hiding the smugness. “oh- um, yeah, sure,” he says shakily, reaching to grab a piece of your cake.

  you raise your fork to his mouth as he does the same, mind racing. you both take the bite, enjoying how wonderful this cake tastes. you put your pointer finger in the frosting of your slice of cake and dab it on eddie’s nose. your version of shoving the cake in his face. eddie feels panicked, nervously laughing at your action. “something wrong?” you feign innocence.

  “no, no, just uh… it’s not important. thanks for the cake,” he says, wiping the frosting from his nose before focusing on his cake. his heart was beating ridiculously fast as he ate. he was so in love with you.

  once you both finished your cake you smile, excited for the final phase of your plan. “eds?” you whisper, biting on your lip. he looks up to you and hums. “can i ask for one more thing?” you ask.

  eddie nods, nerves bubbling in his stomach. you reach over to the boombox, pressing a button before standing. “will you dance with me?” you ask, holding your hand out. eddie feels all air leave his lungs as the familiar beginning notes of always and forever by heatwave floods his ears.

  he wants to almost cry… but he’s too blown away. he places his hand in yours silently, standing and walking with you off the blanket. he feels like he’s holding his breath as you grab his wrists, placing them on your hips. “breath,” you reassure him, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head on his chest.

  he stares down at you in disbelief and fright, swaying with you as you begin moving. you wait for the chorus to hit before pulling back to look into his eyes. he was still not believing what was happening, his lips parted and eyes wide. “eddie,” you spoke quietly, your own nerves starting to flood your body. he looks at you, still not knowing what to expect. “i…” you start, eyes flickering to his lips that looked so kissable. “i’m in… love with you too,” you whisper, and eddie freezes.

  “w-what?” he asks breathlessly. first not understanding how you knew he loved you, then realizing you had the same feelings.

  you smile at his bewilderment and bring one hand to the side of his face. “i’m in love with you too, eddie munson,” you repeat, louder and more confident this time. eddie’s hands squeeze your waist as his brain short circuits. he tries opening his mouth to speak, but he doesn’t even know what to say. “can i kiss you?” you ask and eddie sucks in a sharp breath. he nods, and you waste no time leaning in.

  the second your lips connect, it feels like literal fireworks. one of his hands come up to the back of your head, holding you against his lips as his eyes flutter shut. your lips move in sync, the music playing in the background as you both revel in the feeling of each other.

  you don’t pull away until you literally need air but you keep your foreheads pressed together. “how did you…” eddie trails between pants.

  you give him a shy smile. “last night… you were gone, like so drunk. and you told me. everything,” you start and eddie’s eyes widen for what felt like the millionth time. “everything. that you’ve loved me since i was fifteen, about amy being the flower girl, about the dog, the snow, the colors, the decorations. about robin and gareth, the food, the first dance, the cake, and even what we’d do after,” you explain and his heart drops. “you left out the details of the specific part though, don’t worry,” you giggle at his expression.

  “oh my god,” eddie says, closing his eyes in embarrassment. 

  you grab his face in both your hands to get him to open his eyes. “that’s why i did this. because i’m in love with you too… because even though i haven’t thought it out like you, i want it too,” you say in reassurance.

  eddie scans your face, a part of him telling him it was just a sick prank. but it wasn’t. so he presses his lips back against yours, trying to pour his love into it. “i really do, i love you so much,” he mumbles into your lips.

  you smile into his kiss, feeling the adoration from him. you pull away. “oh, i almost forgot,” you say, disconnecting yourself from him. you walk back over to the basket, rummaging around before walking to him with a small box. you hand it to him and he eyes you. “open it,” you say, shoving his shoulder slightly.

  he does, looking at it in confusion. it was a necklace that resembled a singular wing of a bat. you grabbed it, holding it to your chest, where the magnets made it snap together with your own. the two wings lining up to form a heart. eddie feels his eyes water as he grabs it back from you. “i love it,” he whispers, wondering how he got so lucky. you help him put it on before pulling him in for another kiss.

  you two sit back down on the blanket, cuddling together as you admire the sunset. “this is literally, the best day of my life,” eddie admits, looking down at you. 

  you smile, squeezing his arm. “mine too,” you whisper. 

this was originally supposed to end with some cutesy smut but i was already over 8 thousand words so...

[elusivecagedmockingbird]

Orbiting: pt.2°

[icehockey!jungkook x figureskater!reader; enter figureskater!jimin] [2.3k+ idiot fwb to lovers; mutual pining, both has the libido of a teenage boy; this one's for the plot! but also i know very little about the technicalities of figure skating so please be kind; tysm for the love on Orbiting]

-

Nothing beats the feeling of being on the ice, you think.

Well, second to Jungkook’s bed, the rink is where you feel most euphoric. As you glide in circles and spin in the air, the wind in your hair makes you feel weightless, almost trouble-free.

“I think I’m ready,” you skate closer to the stands where your coach sits. Eagle eyes follow your form, yet her face remains stoic, “Let me try a triple axel.” With that, her brows crease. “Absolutely not,” she answers with finality.

Stubbornly, you prod, “Coach, plea—”

“We’re not risking another injury when you’ve barely healed.” At this, you scoff, “But I’m fine now. I’ve been landing double axels for months, haven’t I?”

“Yes, but still poorly,” your coach reasons as she looks at you. And you hate it. You hate how she looks at you with pity, making you feel incapable.

Brushing off your insecurity, you muster up the sliver of confidence and hope you have left. “You’re lying,” you start. “I’ve seen my form and rewatched my routines after every practice. I’ve gotten better.” You're trying not to let your emotion swallow you whole, you push your point, “You also said so yourself: I’ve been better compared to three months ago.”

You don’t realize how shaky and loud your voice had gotten with every word. Even you, yourself, sounded unsure of your recovery by the time you finished.

“Y/N—”

You know that tone. Your throat and heart constrict, “No. You promised—” but your plea is interrupted by the echo of the door banging, followed by footsteps until someone comes into view.

“Ah, Jimin. Finally!” Your coach ushers him to come closer to where you’re at a standstill with her. You’re a ticking time bomb, that at least you know. The last thing you should be around is people, so you skate away.

- “Your reputation precedes you, L/N.”

Stopping mid-stretch, you turn your head to where you hear the voice. It’s Jimin. He smirked as he approached you, skates hung on his shoulder.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sits beside you on the bleachers, plush lips tightening to form another smirk. In a different mood, you may have gushed at how full his lips are, but right now, you’re irked at how his hands take their time in lacing his skates.

“Don’t worry.” He’s facing you now and his hands flick softly to brush his parted bangs away from his face. “All I’ve heard about are good things. At least, to me.”

Your eyebrows crease. He winks, then skates away from the bleachers. You parrot your previous question, now skating after him.

“My friends said you were a stubborn one,” his voice loud enough for you to hear. Jimin slows down and lets you catch up to him. Now skating beside him, matching his stride, you ask, “And that’s a good thing because?”

“I like headstrong girls. It just means you’re determined, too. But I want to see for myself how determined you can be, Y/N.”

Jimin swerves, now skating backward, facing you. You almost crash into him, but he holds your arm, guiding you back into pace.

“Careful. If we’re going to be partners, I need to know you can keep up with me,” he teases, and it works because you’re riled up.

Of course, Jimin heard a lot about you. A couple of his friends auditioned to be your pair, but they all came home after a few weeks with rants about the ‘ice princess.’ No one would deny how pretty and talented you were, but those admirable qualities were overshadowed by how much of a ‘bitch you can be on the ice’ as his friends would describe it. He has also heard people go as far as saying how much your accident was a well-deserved one because you needed to be knocked down a peg.

He drew the line there.

Your frustration turned irritation now directed towards his smug ass. “You’re the one who’s trying out,” you bark as you pull your arms from his hand. “Nuh-uh, this goes both ways,” Jimin insists, a smile still plastered on his face.

“Fine. Let’s do a routine,” you give in. “But I take the lead. Keep up, Park.”

Not giving him the chance to disagree, you skate to the middle of the rink. Starting with a three-turn. You monitor Jimin on your peripheral vision, then, you proceed to do a salchow jump followed by loops.

- “Fuck,” you pant. Heat is running through your body, and with Jimin beside you exuding the same warmth, you feel even more hot despite being surrounded by ice. You can’t deny that running routines with Jimin was the most fun since your coach have been holding auditions for the past month.

“So…” Jimin starts, his green sweater seeming darker as it dampens with sweat. “Am I good enough to be your partner, Y/N?”

You laugh, “I could ask you the same thing.” Your frustration from earlier dissipated. “But yeah, you’re not bad, Park. Skills are mildly better than the previous three skaters we’ve had combined.”

Jimin scoffs. “Gee, thanks. Unfortunately, I need you to do one more thing for me before I settle on a verdict,” he challenges.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Do a double axel for me.” At this, your smile falters. “Unless, of course, you’ve grown rusty. If you ask me, those routines were safe,” he goads.

You hate this. You hate how he gets under your skin so easily despite having just met him. But you stand, and Jimin follows, dusting scraped ice off his pants. “I’ll go first,” he starts as he skates away for space. With bated breath and hope that he trips, you watch him glide around for a while, then launch to a smooth double axle.

Jimin chuckles, hands combing through his hair once again. “Your turn, L/N.”

You skate in circles, orbiting Jimin. You can do this, you think. You’ve been landing double axels for months now. Despite this, your nerves shake. But you’ll be damned if you get outperformed by Jimin. You ready your form as you take a deep breath.

It’s now or never.

In a millisecond, you’re in the air, and as you land your feet on the ice, you wobble until your body hits the ice. You yelp in pain, hands quick to clutch your ankle.

“Shit!” Jimin rushes to you. Eyes wide, frantically searching for your coach.

- Propped on the bed, you chew on jello as your coach chews your and Jimin’s ear off.

“What the fuck were you guys thinking? I left you guys to get acquainted, not compete,” she whisper-yells. You and Jimin exchange a look. His eyes are shy and guilty.

“Y/N, I told you to be careful.”

“I was,” you nod, scooping a mouthful of jello. Another tirade was ready to leave your coach’s mouth when the door to your hospital room opens.

“Y/N,” Jungkook barges in. Eyes focused on yours as he walks to your side. Your coach sighs, “Jungkook, talk some sense into her, will you?” She pleads before leaving your room.

On the other side of your bed, Jimin clears his throat and introduces himself, his arms outstretched for a handshake. Jungkook ignores it; eyes still on you, but his words are clearly directed at Jimin, “You can leave us now.”

Nothing is said further, and Jungkook sits on your bed. Jimin stands in disbelief.

“It’s fine, Jimin,” you break the awkward tension, “I’ll see you next practice.”

Jimin nods at you, “Right. Get well soon. I’ll visit you tomorrow.”

Jungkook’s head finally whips to face Jimin. “There’s no need for that,” he speaks with finality, staring him down. Jimin scoffs, but after a second, he relents, nods at you for a goodbye, then leaves the room.

As soon as the door closes, Jungkook's voice booms, “What the fuck were you thinking?”

You roll your eyes and end his incoming scolding before he can even start with a raise of your hand.

“You really are your mom’s son, huh? She said those exact words earlier,” you chuckle.

“Don't laugh. Nothing’s funny about this. You’re hurt, Y/N. This could have been really serious.”

You sigh, “I know. And I was scared, okay? But the doctor said it’s just a mild sprain. Nothing too serious, and give it a few weeks rest, and I’m good as new.”

Your hands reach out to straighten his furrowed brows. “You’ll get wrinkles if you keep scowling.” Jungkook pulls your hand away from his face, and for a while, you think you’ve really pissed him off. But in the same breath, he pulls your hand to his lips. “I got so fucking scared when my mom called me. I rushed here and I was even in the middle of eating.”

You snort out a laugh, and your other hand reaches the half-eaten jello and offer it to him.

“No, thanks,” he groans in disgust. “I think I’ve had my fill of jellos during your last stay here.” Cue another eye roll from you, “You’re so dramatic.” Jungkook laughs and just stares at you. There goes your heart again, doing somersaults, and you think you’re growing hot by the second he stares you down.

You clear your throat, “Well, there’s a vending machine at the corner, I think.”

Jungkook nods then stands, and you think he’s heading to buy snacks when he locks the door.

“I think I prefer the snack already here, though.”

And there’s the Jungkook, you know. While you’d rather twist your other ankle than admit that sleazy line worked on you, the fact that you’re in a hospital isn’t lost on you.

“You can’t be serious, Jungkook.”

“Oh, but I am,” he grins. Hands trailing on your legs, but he remains mindful of your sprained ankle.

“I’ll be careful, babe.”

It’s shameless how you’re already breathless. His name leaves your lips in lust-filled whispers. Pants discarded on the side of your bed, Jungkook salivates at seeing the wet patch on your underwear.

Giving in to his primal desire, he moves the cloth aside and licks at your pussy.

“Gguk,” you moan. “Not much time. Just fuck me already.”

His head shakes, and you feel his tongue move inside you. “I haven’t had my fill yet.” His thumb plays with your clit as he eases two of his fingers inside you. Your back arches, moans stuck in your throat and you remind yourself you’re in public, albeit inside closed doors, you know how thin these walls are.

Jungkook hums, and you look down at him. The sight has you gushing, and your bent knees buckle. He’s rutting himself on the bed as his tongue and fingers play with you.

“Jungkook,” you call his name with a moan. He looks up, but his fingers continue to go in and out of your pussy. Your expressions match each other—eyes lidded with lust and mouth open in silent moans and groans.

“Fuck me. Now.” Giving your pussy one last suck, Jungkook finally listens to you. The bed creaks as he kneels to unbuckle his belt and pull his pants down to his thighs.

You open your legs wider. “You really are my dream girl,” he grunts. “Will you take off your shirt for me, babe, please.”

You hum, watching him stroke himself as he waits for you to pull your shirt over your head. “I will if you will.”

In record time, Jungkook has his shirt scattered on the hospital floor. Scooting closer to you, Jungkook remains mindful of your foot. But it isn’t long until he rubs his tip to your clit.

“Say please.”

“Please, Jungkook.”

Satisfied at your whiny voice, he pushes his dick inside you. You both moan before Jungkook realizes where you are. And so he kisses you, mouth catching your moans. His hands move from your hips to your chest. Both of his hands full with your tits, fingers pulling playfully with your nipples. You wrap your good leg around his hips, foot pushing his ass closer to you.

Mouths parting for a breather, you lean back. It’s a filthy view, but the noises you make are extremely lewd. You now hear the metal creaking and your pussy squelching each time Jungkook thrusts inside you.

“Baby,” Jungkook whispers from your neck. “Don’t scare me like that ever again.” You would have sensed how earnest he was if you weren’t too lost in your pleasure. But you hum and tangle your hand with his hair, as you pull him for a kiss. His thrusts are now deeper and harder. “Cum for me, babe.” Your body at his beck and call, you cum. Milking your orgasm, Jungkook continues to pound your pussy.

“Mm, sensitive,” you whine.

“One more, baby,” Jungkook asserts with his hands going down to rub circles on your clit. You’re delirious. “One more for me,” he grunts as he thrusts, “With me.”

You can feel another orgasm slowly approaching, and you know Jungkook’s about to reach his high, too. You open your eyes and find him already looking at you. Your pupils are blown wide with lust, and in that shared moment, you knew.

You come together with breathy moans.

- Jungkook lays on top of you, his body keeping you warm. “You’re coming home with me.”

You hum, “Have mercy on my pussy, Jeon. I don’t think I can even walk out of here, and it’s not because of my sprained foot.”

He raises his head from your chest, thumb circling your side boob. “I didn’t mean for another round, Y/N. Get your head out of the gutter,” he teases.

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“You have a foot injury. You need someone to take care of you.”

Cue your heart somersaults.

At your silence, Jungkook thinks he said something wrong, so he tries to lay out a more acceptable reason for having you in his home, “I think my mom would also prefer that she watches over you as you recover. Can’t have you attempting to skate with an injury.” At that, you lightly smack his head. “I’m not that stupid, Jeon,” you scoff.

“Right,” he laughs and lays his head back to your chest. He leaves a kiss on your sternum and you struggle to breathe as you try to calm your heart on haywire.

-

>> Page 3

[runnning-outof-time]

More Than Charm | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - part two of Actions Speak Louder … inspired by a comment from @holacia3

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy’s got a lot of making up to do, both to (Y/N) and her parents. To anyone else, this would be a challenging feat….but Tommy Shelby isn’t anyone else.

Warnings: drinking, language

Word Count: 2493

A/N: I’m sorry it took so long for this second part to be written. If you’re still interested enough to see what happens next, thanks so much for sticking around. I’m not 100% sure it came out how I wanted it to, but I’m happy with it nonetheless. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: oh and what a better time to post this than on the day they got married? - thank you to @eatdirt420 for suggesting I pick a day in between the two seasons that won…I hope this day is considered to be that!

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

- December 12th, 1920 -

If you told (Y/N) that this day would finally come around, she probably would have laughed in your face.

Tommy proposed to her in October of 1913. They were planning to have their wedding in August of the next year. But no one had anticipated the fact that Tommy and his brothers would have been shipped out to fight a war in France just one month prior.

The wedding had to be postponed due to the conflict, and it stayed postponed for seven long years - both due to the war continuing longer than anyone could have imagined, and also because of the ‘mess’ that Tommy and the family business got themselves into just shortly after they returned from the Western Front in 1919.

(Y/N) thought it’d be better to wait, to allow their wedding to have the spotlight that she felt it deserved. But she’d by lying if she said that the prospect of her walking down the aisle got bleaker with every year that passed.

But today it finally happened. She finally walked down the aisle, took her fiancé’s hands, and vowed herself to him for the rest of her life. He, in return, vowed the same for her, and she and Tommy then walked back down the aisle as husband and wife.

Now it was time for the reception.

Tommy and (Y/N) decided to take a moment to themselves before going out and greeting all of the people who joined them on their special day.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her as he shut the door behind them, making sure they were alone in one of the rooms just of off the large banquet hall. He noticed that something had been eating at his wife since the ceremony was finished.

“Nothing,” she quickly responded, noticing instantly after she’d answered him that her haste had given her true feelings away.

“You’re picking at your nails, love,” he nodded at her hands, catching her in the act, “something’s bothering you. What is it?”

(Y/N) took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. “My parents, Tommy,” she answered, her response only scratching the surface of what she wanted to say.

“What about ‘em?” he asked with furrowed brows.

“I’m worried what they’re thinking…how they’re taking this,” she divulged.

“Fuck what they’re thinking,” he was quick to brush it off, and he promptly earned a glare from his wife in response.

“Seriously? You can’t just say that,” she said, looking at him with wide eyes. Tommy stayed silent. (Y/N) turned from him with a huff, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes in hopes to alleviate some of the stress and worry she was feeling. “You can be so crass sometimes, Thomas,” she sighed, shaking her head as she looked at the ground.

“I’ve got this covered, love,” he responded, moving to stand behind her.

“I’ve heard that before,” she remarked, snorting after she spoke.

“I’ve got it covered,” he assured her, wrapping his arms around her midriff so he could pull her flush against him.

“Please don’t mess this up,” she whispered as she placed her hands atop his forearms.

“I won’t,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips to her neck.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but lean into his touch, her eyes slowly closing as she got lost in the feeling of his lips pressed to her skin. “We’ve gotta get out there, Tommy,” she finally spoke after a few moments had passed.

“They’ll be fine for a few more minutes,” he disregarded her statement, continuing his ministrations.

“Tommy,” the repeating of his name came as a breath this time.

“Just wanna spend some time with me wife,” he mumbled before spinning her around so that he could kiss her lips.

The reception was in full swing now. Tommy and (Y/N) had been playing host, going around to all of the guests and thanking them for being part of their big day. (Y/N) was so happy to see Tommy back to acting like his old self. Usually his smiles and lighthearted behavior were reserved for her eyes only but today, while in front of family and friends, his guard had been completely lowered.

Her parents hadn’t yet made a scene, which (Y/N) was thankful for because they very well could have if they wanted to. They stood off to the side and watched with smiles as their daughter celebrated her wedding day. (Y/N) wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or worried that Tommy hadn’t gone over to them yet.

“Don’t look now, (Y/N),” (Y/N)’s sister, Josephine, started while looking over the younger woman’s shoulder, “but Tommy’s on his way over to mum.”

(Y/N) looked as soon as her sister finished speaking. Sure enough, Tommy was now talking to her mother. She held her breath as she watched the two conversate.

“What is he going to do?” she wondered aloud, frozen as she silently hoped that this wouldn’t be the time where the train got derailed.

The two talked for a moment longer before Tommy offered his hand to her. Time seemed to go slow as (Y/N) watched a smile form on her mother’s face before she accepted Tommy’s hand and allowed him to lead her to to the dance floor.

“He got her to dance,” Josephine pointed out, grabbing hold of her sister’s arm as a look of shock formed on her face, “no one gets mum to dance.”

“And it looks like she’s enjoying it,” (Y/N) remarked, feeling an immense relief wash over her as she caught the wide smile that was present on her mother’s face.

“Leave it up to Tommy Shelby, right?” Josephine grinned as she looked over at her sister.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but blush. She tried to play it off, but the fact that Josie’s grin grew made it obvious that she had caught her initial reaction. “Yeah,” she conceded with a slight nod before adding, “but mum’s the easier of the two to convince. I’m interested to see what he’s got planned for dad.”

The evening had gone as swimmingly as it could have. There were many laughs and smiles, and the love could practically be felt in the room.

The dance seemed to do the trick: (Y/N)’s mother had decided to put her feelings of hesitance in the past and accepted Tommy as her son-in-law. Her only qualm now was that the two hadn’t gotten married sooner.

Much like (Y/N) predicted though, her father was going to be a harder person to sway. He stayed at the table for most of the evening, watching the event happen around him. She tried to get him involved a few times, but to no avail. The only time he stepped away from his seat was for the father-daughter dance.

“Is your father still here?” Tommy asked (Y/N) as the evening was drawing to a close.

“Let me see…” she trailed off, peering around his shoulder to find the table her parents had been sitting at, “he is,” she affirmed when she found him in the same seat he’d been occupying all evening. “Why do you ask?” she couldn’t help but question the reasoning behind his concern.

“I’ve not gotten to talk to him yet,” he answered.

“He’s not going to be as easy to sway as my mother was,” (Y/N) warned.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try, eh?” he cracked a grin. (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile at his determination.

“Please don’t make things worse,” she said before he could leave her side.

“I won’t,” he assured her, leaning in and pressing his lips to her forehead before he turned and walked away from her.

“(Y/N)!” she then heard from behind her. She turned to find Ada approaching her with Freddie in tow. There went the plan of watching Tommy try to smooth-talk her father. “I’ve been looking for you,” the Shelby woman stated as she pulled her new sister-in-law into a hug.

“You’ve found me,” (Y/N) smiled once the two ladies pulled away. She made sure to also acknowledge Freddie, who sent a smile back.

“I wanted to let you know that we’re leaving. It’s getting late and we don’t want to keep Karl’s sitter for too long,” Ada informed her.

“Oh that’s fine. Thank you both for coming,” (Y/N) smiled.

“It was absolutely lovely! We’re thrilled to have you as part of the family now,” Ada said with a smile before asking, “would you happen to know where my brother has run off to?”

“He trying to have a word with my father,” (Y/N) answered, watching as Ada’s eyes widened slightly.

“Best of luck with that,” she stated, “but knowing Tommy, he’ll be able to settle the score.”

“I can hope,” (Y/N) smiled softly, hoping it hid her true emotions. “Thanks again for coming tonight.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” Ada smiled before pulling the other woman into one last hug.

By the time the Thornes had left her side, (Y/N) turned again to find Tommy sitting at the same table as her father. They were talking, and by the looks of it, her father seemed to actually be interested in the conversation. (Y/N) felt a smile creep onto her lips as they both lifted their glasses in unison for a drink.

“Whiskey…it sure does help men forget their differences,” the voice of her mother came from beside her, making (Y/N) jump at the sudden company.

“Mum,” she couldn’t help but gasp, her reaction making the other woman laugh. She shook her head and let out a sigh, her smile returning as her mother pulled her into her side. “Tommy really brought whiskey over for him?” she asked.

“He did,” her mum answered with a nod, “was really polite in asking if he could talk with him privately.”

“I can only imagine what they’re talking about,” (Y/N) stated, silently hoping that whatever it was wouldn’t ruin their chances at married life before it even began.

“Oh horses and betting, I’m sure,” her mother threw out a few ideas. “So long as he doesn’t coax him down to Watery Lane, we’ll be grand,” she then added in a nonchalant manner.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as they found her mother’s. She’d never explicitly told her about the business that Tommy and his family ran. Right now she felt like a child who’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. That was why the smile that formed on her mother’s face made confusion wash over her. Why is she smiling? she couldn’t help but think to herself.

“The Shelby name is spoken all around Small Heath, darling. It’s hard not to know about the business they’re involved in,” her mother explained her reaction, making her daughter immediately go into panic mode.

“You’re not upset about that, are you?” (Y/N) asked in a weary tone.

“I’m not,” the older woman started, shaking her head softly, “you’ve been with him for a long time now, and he’s not once shown that he wants to be anywhere other than by your side. He’s a good man to you, (Y/N), anyone can see that. I’m happy that he’s the one you married because I know that you’ll be safe with him.”

“I’m so happy to hear that you think that, mum,” (Y/N) said with a wide smile. She couldn’t help but wrap her arms around the older woman and hug her tightly. All of the worries she was harboring had now vanished.

“You’re going to have a lovely life with him,” her mother whispered as she held her daughter tighter.

“I’m not sure what you did, but you made them love you, Tommy,” (Y/N) said as she worked on making sure all of her jewelry was removed.

“You should have trusted me,” he responded, standing from the bed after he’d taken his shoes off. He then moved over to where she was standing so that he could wrap his arms around her waist from behind.

“I should have,” (Y/N) mumbled as she tried to fight the smile that was threatening to form on her face.

“What was that?” Tommy asked as he lifted his chin from her shoulder so that he could look her in the eyes through the mirror. His eyes were wide now and there was a grin teetering on his lips also. He definitely caught what she said…he just wanted to hear it again.

“Oh nothing…” (Y/N) trailed off, playing coy as she bit on her bottom lip.

“Did you just say that I was right?” he tried to coax the answer out of her.

“I said nothing,” (Y/N) held steadfast, although her grin was peeking through despite her attempts to keep it hidden.

“Fine…I’ll just have to use another means of getting it out of you,” Tommy decided, not giving her a moment to process what he said before he was dragging her backwards and - gently - pushing her onto the bed. “What was it you said, love?” he questioned between the kisses he was peppering all over her face, his hands finding the sensitive spots on her sides.

“Tommy!” she shrieked, trying so hard to catch her breath through her giggles. Despite her attempts to either stop his hands or take hold of his face, Tommy continued his barrage of kisses and tickles. “I should have trusted you!”

“What was that?” he stopped all at once, holding himself above her as their eyes met.

“I should have trusted you,” (Y/N) repeated herself once she caught her breath. She took hold of his cheeks with both of her hands and searched his eyes for a moment before adding, “I must’ve forgotten how much of a charmer you are.” She couldn’t help but smile as she watched a grin crack through his composure. If only she could have photographed this moment or found a way to freeze time.

“I managed to keep you for all these years somehow, didn’t I?” he countered, his grin growing, “that wasn’t because of luck alone.”

“I think it was more than your charm that made me stay, Tommy,” she admitted, her smile widening.

“Oh yeah?” his question sounded like he was challenging her.

“Yeah,” her quick response told him what she was up for the challenge.

“Wanna tell me all of those other reasons?” he asked then, one of his eyebrows raising as he spoke.

“Gladly,” (Y/N)’s smile grew more, if that was even possible. Her eyes then flitted down to his lips before returning to his again. “I think I’ll start with your kisses,” she stated, leaving him with no time to respond before she pulled his lips down to match hers in a passionate kiss.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @areyenotfondofmelobster @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[sunflowergirl522]

New Watch

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Spiderperson!Reader

Summary: Hobie goes to your universe instead of his own after quitting.

Word Count: 1201

No use of Y/N and I didn’t really write his accent in all that much. There’ll probably be another part of how they met and readers whole backstory. Thinking it’ll be a miniseries because I love the spiderperson I created.

“Just for the record, I quit.” Hobie types in all too familiar numbers before backing into the portal and tossing his watch.

You’re in the middle of pouring water into the pan below the bread in the oven when the familiar sound of a portal opening in your living room greets your ears. A smile crosses your face as the heavy footsteps from your favorite Spider-Man variant make their way into the kitchen. You continue humming to yourself as you close the oven and remove your mitts and the steps stop meaning he’s probably leaning against the doorway instead of coming any farther in.

“Hey Hobie.” You turn around and focus your bright smile at him. He smiles at seeing the state you’re in, taking in your apron on top of your brown cami and floral print skirt and the flour smeared on your face. It only fades when he spots the bruise on your cheek from earlier that morning.

“What happened ‘ere, Turtle dove?” He crosses the room and cradles your face tilting it up so he can get a better look while softly brushing it with his thumb. 

“It’s nothing, really. Just had a run in with Man-wolf this morning, I got a gnarly slash in my side too which finally stopped bleeding a couple hours ago.” Hobie huffs out his displeasure, as much as your universe is the prettiest he’s seen, you sure have some of the more monstrous villains. Your hand holds onto the one caressing the bruise and you turn to place a kiss on his palm. “I’m okay though. How’s everything at the society?”

“I quit.” He shrugs like it isn’t a big deal before walking past you and starting to go through your junk drawer. “Where’d you put that da-” He gets cut off as he glitches.

“Jesus Christ Hobie, you got rid of your watch?!” You rip the apron off before rushing off to your bedroom in a panic. “You shouldn’t have come here without it, you know how dangerous this cell decay stuff is. You should’ve gone back to your own universe instead.” You pull out the day pass he stole and stashed here about a month ago from your bedside table while you go on about how dangerous it is that he came here instead of going home.

“Had to come see you, fill you in.” Hobie comes up behind you plucking it from your hands and sliding it on. “Besides, knew you had one o’ these lying around.”

“Hobie this is serious, you gotta go home.” You go to open up a portal to send him home when he snatches your own watch from your wrist.

“Nah.” His hands go into his vest pockets before he turns and heads back towards your kitchen.

“Nah?” You follow shortly after finding him sitting at your kitchen island. His chaos of changing colors clashes with the pastel surroundings of your cottage and it was almost jarring to see the first few times but has since become one of your favorite sights. “What do you mean ‘nah’?”

“Pix, as cute as you are when you’re mother henning me, you should stop and come sit with me while I explain.” He dangles your chunky green sweater in one hand while his other pulls out bits and bobs from his pockets.

“Fine.” You sigh while grabbing the sweater and folding your wings against your back from where they spread out in your worry. 

“Remember that kid Miles I told you Gwendy talks about?” He starts as you sit down next to him. You hum your confirmation because while you still haven’t met Gwen he’s brought up her mentioning Miles a few times. As he continues catching you up on Spot and Miles following Gwen through a portal into Pav’s dimension he works on putting all the bits and bobs together. Once he has the screen together you realize what he’s making.

“Woah, hold on. Are you making your own watch?” You interrupt his story just as he’s getting ready to tell you about how Miguel just about lost his mind and snag the work in progress out of his hand.

“Ay, been nicking parts for it for a while now.” He leans on the counter watching as you turn what he has together around in your hands, studying it.

“Babe, this is cool and all but why wouldn’t you just hack into your old watch and take the tracker out of it?” He’s about to respond when you eye the small spikes in front of him. “Oh, I see. You just wanna make it punk rock to fit your whole vibe.” He rolls his eyes and takes it from your hands. 

“It’s the principle of the thing. Why continue to use something given to me when I can stick it to the man and make my own?” He looks back over to find you nodding because you get it. “When’s your bread supposed to be done?”

“Probably soon.” You hum and turn your head to look at the oven timer over your shoulder. “You care if I start cleaning my mess while you work?” 

“Better get on with it love.” You smile and kiss his cheek before getting up. 

The two of you work in silence for a while. With you cleaning and taking the bread out of the oven when it went off and him putting together the watch. Every so often he’d fiddle with your spider society watch to make sure he’s putting it together properly. Each time you passed by him you’d either give his shoulder or arm a squeeze or place a kiss wherever you could reach, his cheek, his shoulder, his head, sometimes he’d turn his head so you could get his lips. By the time dishes are done and your countertops are all clean the bread’s cooled down and his watch is complete.

“So if it’s done what’s with all the extra pieces?” 

“Gonna drop this one off for Gwen for if it don’t work out then come back and make my own.” He stands and puts in Earth 65 for the destination. “I’ll be in and out, back in five minutes tops.”

“Alright, you might as well take my watch apart and make me one when you get back. Miguel already doesn’t care much for me and the feelings pretty mutual. And I don’t wanna be a part of his little club if I’ll be stuck going on missions with Ben.” You cringe at the idea of having to go on another mission with him. The last couple of times you’ve been forced to have been borderline torture.

“Have I told you I love ya’ lately?” His arm drapes around your shoulder and he leans down to be nose to nose with you.“Hmm, you may be lacking there.” You can’t help but tease him to see the smile he always gets on his face when you do. “I love you too. Go drop the watch off and when you come back I’ll make dinner while you work.” “See you in a minute, love.” He gives you a kiss before opening up a portal and stepping backwards through it.

Marvel Taglist: @lieswithoutfairytales @sugarbutterbailey @1-800-ch3rry @neenieweenie @fluffy-bnny @bunnyweasley23 @chaoticevilbakugo @trikigirl271 @chxosunbound @bigpoppajes @alienoutlet @mazerunnerrose @20fandomfangirl @goldylions @literally-a-ferret @angelgirl45367 @supraveng

Everything Taglist: @matchamunson @bubsonnobx​ @practicalghost​ @katsukis1wife @crustyowos @yourfavdummy @protecteddiemunson4vr @kennedy-brooke @m00nkn1ghts

[friendlyneighborhoodhottie]

─🕷────────────── Don't Lie To Me (Peter Parker x Reader -Angst-) ─🕷──────────────

You know Peter is cheating on you, and you want the truth.

I had no specific Peter Parker in mind when I wrote this, but enjoy. Language, cheating, angst, implied sex ahead.

770 Words

Peter had been increasingly coming home later than usual. You were sick of him hiding his phone all the time whenever it rang. You hated to be suspicious of him like this but you had a gut feeling something was wrong.

That gut feeling was confirmed when you saw the text light up his phone when you both were in bed one night. He was asleep and went to bed clutching his phone in his hand. It slipped out to lay flat on the mattress beside him. You didn't want to accidentally wake him, so you got out the bed and tiptoed around to his side. Hesitantly picking up the glowing device, you read the message:

New Message From Felicia

Hey Spider...When can I see you again? Last night was too fun ;)

You felt your heart sink.

You started to breathe rapidly, trying to focus on something else before you had a panic attack.

You brushed yourself off for a couple of days thinking maybe it was a coworker. Maybe it was taken out of context. Your Peter could never betray you like that.

But when his phone rang with her name once again, he tried to hide it, and you had enough.

"I got promoted today" He said glancing at you and then digging into his pasta.

You stayed silent as you shook your head and raised your eyebrows. You held the metal fork, gripping it hard, wanting nothing more than to stab him with it.

He continued cautiously, it didn't take his spidey sense to notice your grip on the fork: "I think it'll be good for the both of us, and in a couple months I can probably become assistant manager of the company. What do you think?"

He waited for your answer, and when he received none he frowned.

"Baby, you're being so quiet, what's-"

"Yeah, Peter, I'm sorry for being quiet, and all, while you want to celebrate, but you know what I think? I think fucking other people while you know how much I love you is fucking cruel. Who the fuck is Felicia?" You exhaled through your nostrils, eyebrows furrowed as you let your hidden rage out.

You could see his face go pale, confirming you discovered something he always meant to keep a secret.

"She's...she's just...she's just a-" he stuttered not helping his case whatsoever.

"Peter. Don't you lie to me." your voice stern.

"She an old friend, we've been catching up and there's nothing going on between us." You could tell he was lying.

"Then let me see your phone, Peter."

"What? No, (y/-)"

"Let me see your Goddamn phone!" you yelled. You hated to yell but you were at a breaking point. You tried to stay strong, tears attempting to form in your eyes.

He reluctantly put in his password, and handed it to you while sighing deeply. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes.

"Wow."

That was really all you could say. Because the second you clicked on her contact the evidence spoke for itself. Dates they had planned, nudes sent, sexts exchanged. It was worse than you ever envisioned it would be.

You nodded your head accepting that this was reality as you prodded your tongue in your mouth before asking:

"What, so you were going to..just keep me around in case that didn't work out?" You folded your arms.

"It's not...it just kind of happened." he answered struggling to explain himself. What can he say? He was caught.

"But you still kept it going?" you threw your hand up and then back into your arm fold.

"I'm sorry." he says his voice starting to croak.

Your face was full of sadness, but you knew what you had to do. That trust was something that could never be replaced. And it's gone now.

"Sorry won't bring me back" you stated sadly.

You called a friend and asked if you could stay the night, telling them about the situation. You pulled your suitcase from the closet and stuffed as many of your clothes and items in there as possible.

You'd have to collect the rest of your stuff eventually. But tonight you just wanted to be away from Peter.

"Have fun with that" you said pointing to his phone as you left the house, pulling your suitcase behind you.

You got in your car and turned the key to the ignition to drive. Your tears finally flowed as you let yourself cry. You blinked rapidly and hot tears came rolling down, its warmth feeling oddly comforting in this cold time.