#but it’ll be over soon and it’ll go better than I expect I’m sure and I’ll be way better

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 39

Synopsis : Simon comes over for dinner and Reader makes a mistake.

Tags : angst

Author's Note : I want to take a second to thank my dear @shady-577 who has the role of Very Important Reader ❤️. I usually run my ideas by her and she kindly reads my stuff ! Thank you so much ❤️

Y/N’s POV

Your friends made you delete the social media apps from your phone, for your own good. In hindsight, you were grateful, because seeing everyone comment and bring back your photos was doing a number on your mental health. Another thing you were grateful for was the presence of everyone who took the time to check in with you. Everyone around you made sure to show their support, even Marshall’s close friends and his family. When they first called or visited, you half expected them to encourage you to talk to him and patch things up but they didn’t. Porter even suggested that you let him bask in it for a couple of days. They were truly disgusted by the track and it made you feel a little better. It didn’t really change anything - what was done was done - but at least you felt valid in your feelings. 

The incident even prompted an unexpected reunion with none other than… Simon. Since the whole thing had gone viral, you weren’t surprised that he heard about it but you did not really expect him to call you. However, he did and he was really sweet. He showed support and even sent you a big bouquet of peonies to cheer you up, as soon as he learned that you were staying at Talia and Jamal’s. In fact, he called you practically everyday and made sure to get your mind off things. Every time you mentioned the incident, he encouraged you « not to think about it » and you had conversations about everything else. Back when you were first dating, you were impressed by the fact that he was very well-read, knowledgeable on a lot of topics. You spent at least an hour on the phone everyday, discussing politics, art, movies… what you enjoyed the most, though, was his humor and the fact that, even after all this time, you had a couple of inside jokes left. Talia saw what a breath of fresh air it was for you, and decided to extend a dinner invitation to him. She thought it would be good for you to socialize with someone you knew, that wasn’t a close friend or acquaintance of Marshall. Jamal wasn’t too keen on the idea, though. He had made his opinion of Simon quite clear in the past, and didn’t care for the way your ex had treated you, especially after the miscarriage. That being said, his fiancée didn’t give him too much of a choice on the matter and he ended up agreeing that, at least, it would be good to see you smile. 

When you brought it up to Marshall over the phone, you could tell he wasn’t too happy. However, he was in no position to tell you who to hang out with, after what he had put you through. 

Simon… Your ex, Simon ?! He asked. 

My friend Simon, you said in an annoyed tone. He’s been cheering me up. 

Ok, he sighed. So… when can I see you ? We need to talk. 

I don’t know, you replied. I think we should talk but… I don’t think I want to see you. 

There’s stuff I need you to see, he said. So that you… I don’t want to say you’ll understand but, yeah, i guess it’ll provide context. 

I guess I’m intrigued, you admitted. 

So… can I come and give it to you ? He asked tentatively. 

I don’t think it’s safe for you to come, you said. If Talia sees you, she will lose her shit. So will Jamal. Can’t you just… e-mail it to me ? 

I guess I can send it over, he said. Y/N, I… I miss you. So much. The cat misses you. Please come home. I need to see you. I need to talk to you, to-

It’ll depend on what you send, I guess, you cut him. I have to go. I have to get ready for dinner. Tell Wiz I love him. 

Sure, he mumbled. 

And hum… thanks for the public apology, I guess. 

You hung up the phone before he could respond. At first, you had been willing to call him but as soon as you heard his tone, his ever so apologetic voice… you were back to feeling angry. He was the one who had betrayed you and you were not about to give in to his own pain. You missed him, though. In fact, every night, you cried yourself to sleep and hated yourself for wishing he was by your side. But you were even angrier at him for what he had done. You knew he would hate the idea of you having dinner with Simon. And perhaps, on some level, it was exactly why you had been so quick to accept, when Talia suggested to have him come over. After all, Simon had been here for you this week. He had been the one to make you smile, laugh and regain a sense of self. He was the one who did what any loving boyfriend should have done. 

Dinner with Simon was fun. So much so that even Jamal laughed at his jokes and engaged in the conversation, in spite of his initial reluctance. No one spoke of the track that mentioned you, or pronounced Marshall’s name. It was just the four of you, talking about anything and everything, just like it had been, years ago. Talia and Jamal were your friends but they had always gotten along with Simon, for the most part, and you all shared some fun memories of your days in university. After dinner, Simon suggested the two of you go for a walk, after learning that you hadn’t really been out since the track leaked. 

I don’t feel like being the laughingstock of the neighborhood, you pointed out. 

It’s 9PM, there’s barely anyone out, he replied. And as long as you care about it, you’re not winning. 

I guess we can go out, you sighed. 

Talia seemed elated that you would finally go out. You went for a walk in some remote part of the neighborhood that had a small trail where people could go on walks. During the day, it was full of people who jogged or families with strollers. But at this time of the night, there was no one in sight. You walked in relative silence when Simon finally spoke. 

I had a lovely evening, he commented. Talia’s cooking is even better than I remember. 

She is quite skilled, you agreed. I had a great time too. Thank you for coming. And thank you again for reaching out. 

You don’t deserve what you’re going through, he said. You deserve the world. Nothing less. 

I doubt it, you sighed. I must have done something awful. If not in this life, a previous one. 

No one deserves what he did to you, Simon insisted. You deserve love, respect, safety… 

That’s what he gave me, you know ? You rambled. When I met him, after you broke up with me… Marshall became my safe space. He made me feel loved, seen, appreciated. He is the one who helped me overcome addiction… I thought I had found a good man.

You deserve to find one, he commented. You know… not a day goes by without me regretting what I’ve done to you. I should have been your safe space. I often wonder where we’d be if I had been there for you. If I had given you what you needed after you lost our baby… 

Married with a kid on the way, perhaps ? You wondered aloud. 

Boy or girl ? He asked. 

A girl, I guess, you shrugged. I always wanted a little girl. And to call her…

… Emma, he recalled. 

You remember ? You asked in surprise. 

Of course I do, Simon said. I remember everything. You are impossible to forget. I’ve been on dates with ladies but none of them compare to you. No one ever will. I know that now. 

Don’t say that, you said softly. 

No, it’s true, he said. No one is as funny as you. No one is as smart, as caring, as loving as you are. That’s why I can’t find anyone else. And that’s why I can’t stand to know he hurt you like this. I’m fine with the idea of you being with another man, but knowing that he is not worthy of you… it’s driving me crazy. I want to beat him up. 

You don’t have to defend my honor, you know ? 

I know, he said. I guess I just… I wish to give you what you need. What you deserve. 

That’s nice, you said shyly. Thank you, Simon. But I don’t think you could. 

What do you need ? He asked as he looked at you. 

I want to feel like myself again, you explained as you looked down. I want to feel loved and seen. But now… I feel dirty and ashamed. 

Simon stopped walking and cupped your cheek, before coaxing your chin so that you’d look him in the eyes. His thumb stroked your cheek and you felt an oddly at peace. He was staring at you with an affectionate gaze. 

You have nothing to be ashamed of, he said. And I’m here if you need anything. 

Thank you, you whispered underneath your breath. 

You stared at each other for a split second and you pressed your lips to his. Half of you hoped he would push you away and the other one hoped he would kiss you back. He did the latter, giving it his all. His lips were soft against yours and, for a split second, you didn’t feel as unworthy, as dirty or as ashamed. You could feel his affection for you, his desire, even. You wrapped your arms around his neck as his tongue found yours, the kiss growing passionate. It had been two years since the two of you last shared a kiss but you felt safe. It was comfortable, familiar. After your mouths parted ways, he grabbed your hand and looked at you. 

I should walk you home, he said. 

I’m sorry, you replied. I-I shouldn’t have… 

I’m happy you kissed me, Y/N, he clarified. But something tells me that what you need is a friend, right now. 

That’s right, you said. I’m mortified, Simon, really… that was wrong. I’m… with Marshall. 

You are, he agreed. For now. 

Yes, you said breathlessly. 

You weren’t too sure of what you wanted. Ten seconds ago, you had wanted to kiss Simon. You wished you could play dumb and say it was an accident but it wasn’t. You had initiated this kiss. You had asked for it. Simon walked you home in relative silence and you were almost mortified. As minutes went by, you absolutely regretted kissing him. Because, regardless of how good and familiar it had felt, it was still cheating. And no matter how mad at Marshall you were, cheating on him broke your heart. Maybe somewhere deep down, you hoped that kissing your ex would erase your feelings for your boyfriend and that you wouldn’t see Marshall as the love of your life anymore. But this didn’t have the desired effect and it only felt more wrong. Once you reached the front door of Talia and Jamal’s house, he kissed your cheek and promised to call you soon on Talia’s phone. It was the only way people could reach you since you’d had the excellent idea of throwing your phone in the staircase after reading one more headline about Marshall’s track. 

When you walked inside the house, your friends were waiting for you in the living room, with a big box sitting on top of the coffee table. 

What’s that ? You asked. 

It was delivered while you were gone, Talia explained. Marshall’s security dropped it off. 

He… Sent my stuff ? You asked anxiously. 

No idea, Jamal said. Might very well be yet another bouquet… As if the whole house wasn’t full of them already… 

You anxiously opened the box. You expected to find your stuff, thinking that maybe he had interpreted your silence as a breakup. But instead, you found a bunch of CDs and stacks of paper, as well as an envelope that read « Open this before the rest. ». Inside, you found a letter, in Marshall’s perfect handwriting : 

« Dear Y/N, 

I sent over the stuff I wanted to show you. I figures that maybe it would be better if you got to go through it alone. In this box, you will find everything I have ever written  about you since we met, as well as some letters I never sent while we were apart. I know it doesn’t change what happened with the track that leaked but I hope this will show you that you are always on my mind, always have been. When I wrote and recorded that silly track, I was sure you were going to leave and what you heard is my me venting on the microphone, letting my mid go to the darkest places, not because I actually think or mean everything but because it’s how I blow off steam. I know it doesn’t make the lyrics any more acceptable, but this is just me, being unable to get you off my mind for one second and trying to deal with it as best as I can. I never planned on you, nor anyone, hearing any of it. I realize this is not a healthy way to deal with my feelings, and I promise I’m never doing this again. Anyway, here is everything : things I wrote, stuff I recorded… I’m here if you want to talk about it. 

I’m sorry I hurt you, more than you’ll ever know. I miss you. (Wiz misses you too). 

Please come home. 

I love you, 

Marshall »

You sighed nervously and handed the letter to Talia, so that she could read it. Once she was done, she handed it to Jamal. After everyone was done reading the letter, you agreed that you should have a look to the content of the box. Your friends offered to give you some space but you were feeling a little overwhelmed. It was painfully obvious that your boyfriend was trying his best to make things bette with you and you had just repaid him by kissing your ex. You spent about three hours looking at every item the box contained. You got to read some letters Marshall had written to you while you were in France, that had your address on the envelope but he never sent them. I here, he was telling you about how much he missed you, how gloomy life was without you and how badly he wanted you to be happy, even if it meant that he would have to stay away from you. He also mentioned a couple of trips he had taken, mainly to California for some work, and how he wished he could have taken you on his travels. People, including himself, had told you how miserable he was while you were apart, but to read what he wrote during that time was gut-wrenching. There were so many writings that it was clear that you had not left his mind for a minute. Some of them even dated back to when you were dating Josh ! You were in tears by the time you were done reading the letters but the worst was yet to come. You listened to the CDs, that were full of tracks you never knew about. They were all about you and you could clearly see the pain in Marshall’s voice. By the time you were done listening, you were bawling like a baby. 

Are you ok, Sis ? Jamal asked. 

I… Guys, I… I don’t know, you hiccuped. 

Come here, babe, Talia said as he took you in her arms. 

You should call him, Jamal said. You guys need to talk. 

You looked at him, taken aback. In the past days, Jamal had not exactly been secretive regarding the disdain he had for Marshall, and you definitely did not expect him to encourage you to patch things up with him. What you read and heard definitely made you want to see him and talk to him face to face, but you knowing what you had done earlier in the night made you sick. You couldn’t face him and tell him you had cheated on him. Not when you knew he had spent months writing the most gut-wrenching, heart-breaking things about his love for you, how being without you was a fate worse than death. 

I don’t know, you said in a croaky voice. 

Baby, I know we’re still mad at him, Talia said. But… You’ve heard these songs, right ? You’ve read these letters… Shit, I’m crying too ! 

She’s right, Jamal said. He loves you. He’s an obsessive fucking moron but… It’s Em. And I know you love him. 

I thought you were mad at him, you pointed out. 

I am, he said. But he sent me an email to apologize, as well as a check. He’s stupid but he’s trying to make things right. You have to give him a little credit, Sis. And I know that you guys have been through a lot and I’m sure you can work things out. 

His last sentence has you burst in tears. After reading and listening to everything, you wanted nothing more than to « work things out », but you were afraid that you had ruined everything. How ironic. He was the one whose actions had led to you leaving the house but he would be the one breaking up with you because you were too dumb. Tears were streaming down your cheeks and you were crying so much that it made it difficult to breathe. It wasn’t just guilt or sadness, it was panic, as you realized you would have to tell Marshall what happened with Simon.

Baby, what’s wrong ? Talia asked as she stroked your back. 

I… I fucked up, guys, you said. 

What ? No ! Jamal said. What he did with that track sucked, you had every reason to leave for a few days ! 

No, it’s not that, you hiccuped. I-I… I kissed Simon… 

NO YOU DIDN’T ?! Talia almost screamed. 

You were virtually unable to stop crying, to the point where you were unable to form a coherent sentence and ended up hyperventilating. It felt like you had the weight of the world on top of you. Talia took you in her arms and tried to get you to calm down but you were having a full blown panic attack. You heard her talk to Jamal but, even though you could hear the words, they weren’t making much sense. You were trying to talk but only French words would come out of your mouth. 

Il va me quitter, you cried. Je l’ai trahi… Oh mon Dieu. J’ai trahi Marshall ! 

What…? Jamal asked confused. 

She’s having a meltdown, Talia sighed. We can’t leave her like this, babe ! 

What do we do, then ? 

Let’s call Em, she directed. 

Non ! You pleaded. Please… Non. 

Talia took your hands in hers and tried to reason with you. In her opinion, it was better for you to tell Marshall and have an actual conversation with him, about both the track and you kissing Josh. 

I fucked up, you cried. Oh my God. I fucked up. 

Look, Sis, Jamal said sheepishly. Cheating sucks, and I’m not going to say Em deserved it. But… You know. You probably wouldn’t have done it if things had bee alright in your relationship. 

True, your best friend chimed in. You were feeling betrayed and vulnerable. 

He’s going to kill me, you sighed. 

He’s not, Jamal said. Look, I already texted him. He should be here in about 20 minutes. We’ll let you guys talk but we’ll be right next door, in the kitchen, alright ? No matter how mad he is, I swear, you’ll be alright. 

But… I’ll have to move, I-

If he kicks you out, you’ll just move back in with us, babe, Talia said reassuringly. We got you. Always. 

You thanked them and tried to pace yourself by taking deep breaths. It was the middle of the night but it didn’t seem to matter to anyone. Twenty minutes later, Marshall was here. As soon as he spotted you, curled on the living room couch, reading one of his letters, he rushed to your side. 

Y/N, he said. 

Hi, you said as you tried to avoid his gaze. 

Have you… Been crying ? He asked as he took a look at your face ? 

You nodded sheepishly. Your stomach was in knots and you felt as if you were about to throw up. He was inches away from you, looking at you intently. You nervously glanced at him and it was safe to say that he looked absolutely terrible. From the looks of it, he had been missing on a lot of sleep. His face looked gaunt and had worry all over it. 

Is it the letters ? He asked. God, I didn’t mean to make you cry… I-I…

They’re beautiful, you said in a creaky voice. A lot to take in. But beautiful. 

And I meant every word, he assured you. These letters, these songs… that’s how I really feel about you. How I have always felt about you. Not that stupid leaked track. 

Yeah ? You asked. 

Swear to God, he said. That’s just… My mind goes to this dark place, sometimes, you know ? When I’m sad, when I’m hurt… I know it’s creepy as fuck, and I know it’s not… It’s not ok. I know it. But I swear, this is just fiction. No different than a book or some drawings, you know ? But it has nothing to do with you. It’s my feelings, my dark thoughts… None of it should matter. 

But you name-dropped me, you pointed out.

I shouldn’t have, he said. That was fucking wrong of me. I thought no one would ever hear it. It’s just… that’s the only way I know how to get things off my chest, you know ? 

You nodded. It hurt to be on the receiving end of it and to be the one who inspired such deranged lyrics but you could sort of see where he was coming from. After all, he had always resorted to music as a coping mechanism. He sat on the couch next to you and took your hand in his. The contact between you - the first in a week - almost made you shiver. He seemed to notice it and immediately placed his jacket on your shoulders. 

I know it sounds easy to say but… I recorded that before I agreed to do therapy, you know ? He said tentatively. I went and told my therapist about it the other day, and… I’m going to do better, Y/N. I promise. I know I’ve hurt you, but I need you to know that I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. And I want us to get through this. I’ll book more therapy sessions, I’ll work on myself, we can do couples therapy if you want… I’ll do anything for us. 

Marshall, I-, you began. 

Y/N… You’re the love of my life, he continued. You make me want to improve myself, put in some actual work so that we can have a future together. There’s nothing I want more than this. I need you with me. I know we can get through this. I just know it. Because it’s us. 

You were overwhelmed. You had told him he was the love of your life several times before but it was the first time he said it back. Tears started rolling on your cheeks and he pulled you to his chest. 

I’ll never hurt you like this again, he said. I love you, and if you still love me, we can get through anything. 

Marshall, I need to tell you something…, you started nervously. 

Do you love me ? He asked as he ignored your sentence. 

I do, you replied. Of course I do, but-

No but, he said. I swear, I’ll do anything you want, honey. I have already gotten rid of the studio equipment but if there’s anything I can do, anything you want… I’ll do it. Just come home, and we work things through, ok ? 

I need to tell you something first, you said nervously. 

Ok, he said as he still held your hand. Anything, baby. 

It’s… It’s about Simon, you started with tears in your eyes. 

What about him ? He asked. It’s not like you cheated, right ? 

You knew he was resorting to humor to try and diffuse tension but you immediately started crying, giving everything away. You immediately saw the color drain from Marshall’s face, his eyes instantly turning dark. 

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #recovery fanfiction #eminem fluff #marshall mathers x reader #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #marshall mathers imagine

[goldkirk]

going to the doctor today and I am going to be so brave about it. I wrote out my instructions for how to get there, how to get home, what key things to mention since the last visit, and how to reward myself afterwards, and I packed my bag with earplugs and my kindle and snacks and my notebook and I’m going to succeed

#yes I am. #personal #Ive been having stress dreams and muscle tension for days leading up to this #it’s terrifying letting someone else see or have a day in my body when I’m just learning to conceptualize it as fully my own #but it’ll be over soon and it’ll go better than I expect I’m sure and I’ll be way better #hell yeah

[luveline]

I'd love a wisdom tooth with Hotch; I got mine removed last Saturday and I'm in pain 🥲

You should’ve had your wisdom teeth out years ago, but you couldn’t afford it. When Aaron suggested you get them removed after a particularly embarrassing bout of pain, you’d been honest with him: you still couldn’t afford it. Stuff kept going wrong, your car would break down, or your landlord would hike the rent, and you didn’t have enough saved up to do it without worry. 

So he pays for it. You don’t ask him to, you fight him on it, but he hates seeing you in pain. 

“You’re my hero,” you say, mumbling through gauze. “Generous hero.”

“It’s not generosity,” he says, reaching across the console of the car to catch your hand, “try not to touch your mouth.” 

“I feel dizzy.” 

“I know, honey. Can take some more deep breaths for me?” 

He suspects you’re not only dizzy, but overstimulated. You take a few deep breaths, and then you say, “That’s so nice.” 

“What is?” he asks, regretful as he takes the steering wheel into both hands and turns the car onto the next road. 

You’re his sweetheart, he means that firmly, and he’d do much more than pay for your dental surgery. You’ve been very honest with him about how grateful you are. It’s uncomfortable —you shouldn’t have needed his assistance, how unfair it is that you couldn’t afford it alone— but it’s sweet, too, to see your thankfulness manifesting itself while you aren’t entirely yourself. 

“You calling me honey.” 

“You think it’s old-fashioned.” 

“You’re super old-fashioned.”

“That’s not very nice,” he teases. “I remember when we first met, you were so nice and polite. Now you’re abrasive.” 

“I am not!”

“You’re cruel to me. What should I do about it?” 

“Nothing.” 

Aaron reaches over again to grab your thigh. “Nothing? That’s typical.” He pulls your leg toward him, and he gives the soft inside a squeeze you aren’t expecting. You laugh like a kid being tickled.

“You’re just bullying me while I’m defenceless.” 

“Is that what you are?” he asks, rubbing the length of leg he’d squeezed apologetically. “You can be mean to me for now, then, but when you’re feeling better we’re going to have to have a talk about where my nice girl went.” 

You make a sound that’s half excitement and half panic. “Do you mind?” 

He’s being a little much, sure, but you’d been swaying toward overwhelmed a few minutes ago. He figures some tough love will keep and hold your attention before you can remember the pain. “I don’t mind.” He pats your leg with his fingers, frowning when you shiver. “Are you cold?” he asks worriedly. 

“I’m freezing.” 

Luckily for you, you’re home. Aaron parks the car and gets out swiftly to retrieve you, fonder now that he can see up close. You aren’t as out of it as you’d been to begin with, recognition and light in your eyes as you unbuckle your seatbelt and he offers his hand. “Thanks,” you say, ducking out of the car with a little wobble, “I’m still dizzy, can you–”

“I’ve got you,” he says, hand braced more roughly than he means to at your elbow. 

It’s more of the same inside. You’re unsteady on your feet, he has to grab you to keep you standing, but he gets you into the kitchen at your request. His first port of call is a blanket for you. 

As he wraps it around your shoulders, he’s sure the anaesthesia is entirely worn off. You meet his gaze with an undeniable love. It’s in every line of your face. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

“You know I’m just kidding when I say you aren’t nice.” 

You nod. 

“Because you are,” he says. Looking after you isn’t generosity, it’s self-preservation. He’s found you, sweet and loving as you are, his match in teasing and seriousness alike. He has no intention of treating you with anything other than the utmost care. “Are you warm enough now? It’s a common side effect of sedation, the coldness. Your dizziness, too. It’ll feel better soon.” 

“Can I take this gauze out? I feel silly.” 

“If your gums aren’t bleeding anymore.” 

You haven’t had to spit, so you’ll be alright. Aaron washes his hands, has the honour of removing your gauze and witnessing your odd stitch, which he throws away to wash his hands again. Then he wets a cloth for you to wipe your face. It’s perhaps the uglier side of loving someone and looking after them, but he genuinely couldn’t care less. You’re just as lovely to him as you were yesterday, minus a few troublesome teeth. 

“Your cheek is swelling,” he says, stroking the line of your jaw carefully. 

“Well, you can’t stop liking me now. Then this surgery would be a total waste.” 

He laughs. “What do you mean?” he asks, tipping your chin up. 

“You pay for me to have no toothache and then we break up? It doesn’t make any sense.” 

“It makes zero sense. You’ve invented a scenario where I’d leave you,” he smiles like an idiot, “and that timeline doesn’t exist.” 

You close your eyes. He kisses your nose, weary of your soreness. 

“Timeline,” you mumble. 

“Oh, you have something to say? Let’s hear it.” 

You laugh and push him away. “I don’t have anything to say to you.” 

Unfortunately for you, Aaron has no intentions of being pushed away from you. He leans over to give you a hug and a kiss pressed to your temple, his hand feeling a path against the ridge of your shoulder. “Please tell me if I hurt you, I know your face is sensitive,” he says. 

You settle in his arms. “No, this is nice.” 

He presses another kiss atop the first one. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

[carmenberzattosgf]

the long awaited spanking fic

Content warnings: dom/sub dynamics, heavy spanking

I cannot get the brain rot for this out of my head. I was going to write a full fic for it first that includeded subspace but imma just do a spanking blurb for now to free myself from the thoughts… so basically stay tuned for this to be expanded

You did the thing that pisses off Carmy the most. You talked back to him during service in front of everyone. It was over something stupid, really, but your stubbornness got the best of you. As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. The look on Carmen’s face was enough to shut you up for the rest of the night.

The car ride home is silent, dead silent. Carmy hasn’t said a word to you at all, and you don’t dare try and talk to him. You’re well aware you screwed up. You just aren’t sure what he’s going to do with you.

Carmy remains wordless as he parks the car in front of his apartment and heads to his door. You follow quickly behind him, watching as he digs in his pocket for his keys. Once he gets the door open, he walks straight to the couch to sit down, expecting you to close the door and lock up for him.

As soon as Carmy hears the lock click, he speaks in a firm, unwavering tone from where he sits on the couch. “Take off your clothes.”

His tone sends chills down your spine. He’s really fucking pissed. You walk towards him, standing right in front of the couch. “Carm, I’m—“ you begin to apologize, but Carmen doesn’t let you finish talking.

“I’m not going to repeat myself. Take them off. Now.”

“Y-yes, sir.” You remove your clothes as fast as you possibly can, not wanting to make him wait. You watch as Carmy sits up straight on the couch, slightly parting his knees.

“Bend over my lap,” he commands. Your legs move quickly as you bend over on his lap with your eyes facing the ground. His left hand hooks around your waist to steady you. His right hand rests right above your ass, lightly soothing the skin. “You were bad today. Talked back to me in front of everyone.”

“I’m sorry, Carmy. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fucking obvious you weren’t thinking. How can I expect those people to listen to me when my own girlfriend won’t do what I ask of her? You know better than that. I’ve taught you better.”

“It’ll never happen again. I promise.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure of that. You’re going to learn your lesson. I’m giving you fifteen spanks.”

“Fifteen?” you audibly gasp at the number. He has never punished you with so many spanks. The max before had always been less than ten.

“And you’re going to count every single one of them. If you mess up, I’ll add another one. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir. I understand.” Not even wasting a second, Carmy’s hand strikes your ass. He’s not starting off easy. “Shit! O-one.” The next two spanks come one after another, hitting at different spots. Your body jolts in his grasp from the impact of each hit. “Two. Three.”

Carmy doesn’t give you time to think in between the strikes of his hand. Each one comes down harder than the one before it. The only sounds in the room are your strangled whines and the sound of his hand against your ass. You manage to count pretty well at first, but it gets harder as the heat between your legs increases.

“Are you getting wet right now?” He says before spanking you once more.

“t-ten.” It’s all you can say. Stringing together a sentence seems impossible.

“Are you already so stupid you can’t count and answer my question?” Carmy’s hand grips your raw skin as he spreads your legs to see for himself. He scoffs when he sees the wetness pooling between your legs, starting to make a wet spot on his pants. “You’re fucking dripping. You’re a desperate little thing, aren’t you? Even my hands spanking you turns you on.”

He hits your ass twice in quick succession in the exact same spot. You cry out from the impact. Your skin is throbbing. “Eleven— Carm, please.” You beg, not quite sure what you’re asking.

“That was twelve. I guess you can’t even count right anymore. Now, I’m going up to sixteen.”

You tremble in his lap, holding onto his legs with a death grip. At this point, he’s lightened up on the force behind his hand. Carmy also directs some of the strikes on your upper thigh to give your ass a break. It’s completely raw from the spankings, red and pulsing with heat. You’re barely holding on when he delivers the last strike.

“S-s-sixteen—“ you gasp. Tears run down your cheeks as Carmy rubs the skin of your upper back.

“You did good, baby. You took that so well. Such a good girl. You just needed a little punishment to remind you who you listen to, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I’m so s-sorry Carm. I didn’t mean to make you so mad,” you speak through sobs. “I-I shouldn’t have done that I’m so sorry—“

“Shhh—baby. Calm down. I’m not mad at you anymore. You made a mistake and got punished for it. It’s all okay now. You don’t have to apologize again. I know you didn’t mean to upset me. Let me help you sit up, yeah? Need to see your face.”

With Carmy’s help, you sit up in his lap to face him. His hands cup your face, wiping the tears away with this thumbs. You get emotional in times like this, especially when Carmy looks at you with such adoration like he is right now. “I love you, Carm.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Can I take care of you now? I wanna make it all feel better.”

“Please. P-please. Need it,” you beg, feeling the his hard cock underneath you.

“I’ve gotcha. I’ll take care of you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yeah im sorry for leaving this here but i gotta have room to expand on this idea later. Hehehe so expect a more full length one shot with all of this once again and more soon!!

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #the bear smut

[jacobsbigmelons]

Jacob has the visceral need of breeding his bf

Creaking Wood

Jacob Custos x Male Reader

IM BACK CHAT (for the most part) expect hopefully more activity from me 😭

cw: Nsfw, slight alcohol consumption, jacob being fine asl, Breeding (obv), and a top bunk holding onto dear life bc it has to hold up two guys going at it…

The crackling of the fire pit, aroma of beer and whistling of the wind set the perfect scene as the summer councilors sat around the fire conversing with one another. Your conversation with Emma came to a close, though as you felt as if someone was watching, lo and behold the hunk of meat who just couldn’t keep his doe eyes off you.

You took a sip of your almost finished Corona as you stare at Jacob back, your face beginning to tingle a bit from the beer but you also can’t help but feel it’s because of your boyfriend. You both stare for what felt like slight eternity until Ryan made a comment.

“Someone’s distracted” Ryan said to your left as he directed his gaze to Jacob than back to you

“Pfft, yeah okay.” You scoffed playfully, rolling your eyes in the process as you got up as you finished off your drink, crushing it up making sure to dispose of it properly. “I’m gonna go charge my phone inside i’ll be back though!” you explained to the group as you began to walk backwards, hands up, phone in one of them.

“Ay wait lemme come with!” Jacob yelled out, not even paying attention to Abby’s warnings to be safe on the walk…or maybe that was the alcohol. He walked over as you finally turned around walking correctly, giving a slight wave to the people still around the fire.

The stairs up to the cabin you and him shared creaked with each step you guys took, the darkness not helping with illuminating expect for the occasional lamp and or phone flashlight

“So w..what made you wanna come with?” You questioned, voice barely slurred.

“I mean if you want me to turn back I can~” Jacob playfully teased as a Tsk left your mouth and Jacob began to laugh

“Dumbass you know that’s not what I mean” Though a smile couldn’t help but come through before Jacob wrapped a hand around your waist, the floors creaking as you two walked inside. Soon closing the door as he pulled you a little closer to him, your walking paused as you allowed him to just hug you for a bit. The buzz of alcohol rushed across your face in the moment, even sober you know Jacob wanted to be around or in some way holding you so a buzzed Jacob is definitely gonna be clingy.

“So how long does it take for your phone to charge?” He questioned though the tone sounded a little suggestive, you took the time to go and climb your bunk as Jacob followed behind. “It’ll take a bit for it to charge, a good bit honestly so…do with that what you will” You said as you watched your boyfriend join you on the top bunk, his arm going around you as the silence fills the air for a second.

“Their tipsy~ they won’t check on us” Jacob said in an almost mischievous tone, his arm around you slowly moving to your face to move your lips towards his, though for someone with little brains he at least knew how to be a good kisser. It didn’t take long after that for Jacob to end up giving your bunk a run for its money. Jacob’s hand had your mouth covered as you felt his other hand keeping your back arched while he fucked you into the mattress.

“Fuckk babe you feel so good~” He moaned a bit as he got close to speak into your ear, looking back he’s even wearing his backwards hat which somehow just made the whole scene better even if you couldn’t fully see your boyfriend in what little moonlight there was.

All you could do was make muffled noises as you felt him go in and out, still making sure he’s got a good hold of you but now his hands moved down to hold you by the lower back as he made sure he made it all the way inside of you by going fast and pulling out until he begins to keep thrusting. “Shit i’m close-“ Jacob said almost like he was wincing, as if he didn’t want to finish yet.

You began to push yourself back into him as you gripped the bedsheets, being just as close, you needed that last bit of effort to bring you and Jacob to the edge. The fast thrusting soon coming to an end as you felt his cum slowly dripping as he pulled out, breaths heaving as the dopamine begins to pass until you ask a question both of you need to figure out

“How do we clean this up-“ D:

#jacob custos #the quarry #the quarry jacob #jacob custos x reader #jacob custos my fucking beloved #jacob custos x male reader #the quarry jacob custos #x male reader

[moonstruckme]

have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble

i’m such a sucker for a fake dating trope, could i request a drabble with eddie or tasm!peter? (i feel like out of all of the boyfriends they are the most likely to do it lol) <3

Thanks for requesting lovely!

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 686 words

You drop Eddie’s hand as soon as you’re around the corner. “Baby?” your voice comes out disgusted, blissfully steady. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“I don’t have a shit ton of practice being couple-y,” he replies, huffy. “Sorry if I didn’t have time to whip out my domestic dictionary.”

You shrug. “Guess I just expected a little more creativity from you.” He does spend most of his time fucking around with chords and making up stories involving dragons and mages. 

You cross your arms, walking with a couple of feet between you and your part-time boyfriend now that there’s no one around to see. Eddie turns to look at you, his hair falling over his shoulder. “You like it.” 

He’s teasing, you think. He can’t possibly know that. But your face heats and you can’t look up from the sidewalk, because there had been an undeniable commotion in your stomach when Eddie had said in front of everyone, voice smooth and sweet as iced tea, You getting tired, baby? I’m about ready to head out.

It had been a warm sort of commotion, more bees than butterflies, buzzing all the way from the pit of your stomach up into your brain, where they’ve stayed, humming quietly even now. 

You try to pass your flustering off as pique, rolling your eyes and making sure Eddie sees. “It’s infantilizing,” you say. “I hate when guys call girls that, it’s so weird. I’m not a literal baby.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” You look over, and Eddie’s grinning at you now, laying it thick on in the way he has been all night, except that was for show and this appears to be just for you. With how wobbly it makes your limbs feel, you don’t know how much more of it you can take. “You seemed a lot like a baby, the way you let me open every door for you all day and were just about falling asleep on my shoulder a couple of minutes ago.” 

And just like that, the happy buzzing quiet. Real indignation sparks to life in your chest. “I thought you were just being chivalrous for a minute there, but I figured that was ridiculous.” For a second, Eddie looks confused. “And anyway,” you go on, “it’s not like you were any better. I thought I was gonna have to pry your hand off my waist if you got any more comfortable.” 

“You still might have to,” he teases, reaching around your side to squeeze at that favored spot. Your vexation breaks up as a laugh jostles out of you, and you try to move away but Eddie doesn’t let you get far, pulling you roughly against his side. 

Any more of this, and you’ll have to get a tattoo of his handprint on your waist with Eddie’s spot written inside. It’ll be tasteless and suggestive, and you know Eddie will laugh for days. 

“I’ve got to find something equally punishing for you now,” you say. “How do you feel about sweetpea?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

“No? Honeyboo?” 

“You know—” 

“Pookie?” 

“—I actually don’t care what you—” 

“Oh, I know! Stud muffin.” 

“Would you shut up?” Eddie squeezes you around the middle again, cutting you off with your own giggles. He doesn’t look nearly as embarrassed as you’d like, still grinning down at you like you’re a source of endless amusement. “Stud muffin actually isn’t bad, but I don’t give a shit what you call me, so long as it’s you.” 

Some of your playfulness fizzles out, and he smirks at what he takes for your dissatisfaction, stopping and grasping your upper arms to look you in the eye. The metal of his rings are cool on your skin. “Got that, baby?” he asks, stretching the endearment out long and teasing.

It takes you a second to react, grateful for Eddie’s hands on your arms as you try to remember how to balance on your own. Once you do, you scoff, ripping out of his grasp and continuing ahead. “Fuck you,” you say. 

Eddie all but skips to catch up to you. “Oh, you wish.” 

#mae's 5k #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x self insert #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #fake dating #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson one shot #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader

[atlabeth]

(they all say that) it gets better | luke castellan

bleedin' me dry for context (this is that reader's origin story!!)

summary: a look into your unclaimed year.

a/n: does it still count as fluff if you already know it doesn’t end well? idk but i’m having fun writing for this pair so it’s okay. i hope you guys are enjoying reading them!! this ended up becoming a hell of a lot longer than i thought it would be but these kind of one shots are my faves to write lol

title from teenage dream by olivia rodrigo bc apparently guts teenage angst works very well for a demigod who feels like they're worthless and unwanted for a good period of time!! shoutout to the gods

wc: 11.4k JESUS

warning(s): fem!child of demeter reader. typical anger at the gods, but luke is actually pretty sweet! crazy. mostly hurt/comfort, reader is going through it at the beginning (mentions of injuries and almost dying), honestly she's going through it the whole time but luke is very nice to her lol. barely proofread bc proofing 34 pages is a nightmare !!

It was your first day as a demigod and you were already off to a bad start. 

You didn’t remember much, obviously. There was a lot of stumbling, barely held up by your satyr as you crossed the border, and then full on collapsing. Somehow you managed to stay conscious all the way to the infirmary, enough to hear shocked murmurs from the people-like blobs around you and terrified, whispered affirmations from your satyr as he ran along with whoever was carrying you. 

You didn’t remember much. But you do remember thinking what a shameful existence it would be to die at fourteen. 

And now you were sitting in an uncomfortable cot, staring at the wall and counting divots. The first half of your visit was only there in flashes as you drifted in and out of consciousness, but now, unfortunately, you were fully awake. You belatedly wondered how many other kids began their camp life with a stay at the infirmary. 

The thought was dashed from your head as you jolted and cried out in sudden pain, and you shot daggers with your glare at the boy next to you.  

“Sorry.” The boy fixing you up was about your age, and he almost seemed to glow from within. “You dislocated your shoulder—I was popping it back into place.”

“You could have warned me,” you seethed.

“I did,” he said, and when he placed his hands on your shoulder they actually did glow. “You just weren’t listening.”

“...Sorry,” you said after a moment. “I’m having a rough day.” 

He shook his head with a slight smile. “It’s expected.” 

“It’ll be okay,” your satyr said, and some of the tension left your shoulders as you looked over at Tate. He’d been by your side for the past two weeks of disasters, and you’d saved each other’s lives more times than you could count. You were just thankful he didn’t have to watch you die. “Jace is one of camp’s best healers. You’re in good hands.” 

You nodded, not wanting to cause any more problems, so you bit your lip and bit your tongue and let him heal the rest of your injuries in silence. He was done soon enough, and you could feel both their eyes on you as you rifled through your backpack. Thankfully, Tate brought it in as you were dying. Your own blood stained the nylon. 

“How do you feel?” Tate asked anxiously. 

“Better,” you said, tearing your eyes away from it as you continued making sure all your belongings were still there. “A lot better. Not like there’s much competition.”

Tate chuckled, and Jace picked up a small bag from the bedside table and handed it to you—it looked like there were little pieces of fudge inside. “Here.” 

“What’s this?” you asked as you took it. 

“Ambrosia,” he said. “Wait a few hours before you have a piece, and only have a little if you feel a lot of pain. I already gave you nectar while you were out, and the last thing we need is you burning up.” 

You looked at Tate with raised eyebrows and he smiled a bit. “Ambrosia and nectar are the food of the gods. It heals demigods in small portions, but take too much and you’ll get a fever. Worst case scenario, you’ll literally burn up from the inside.” 

“Oh,” you said, and you stuffed the bag into your pack before zipping it up. “I’ll… I’ll wait.” 

“Probably a good idea,” Jace said, and he looked over at your satyr as he stood up. “I’ve gotta get back to my sword-fighting lessons. Can you give her a tour?” 

He shook his head. “I have to debrief with Chiron and Mr. D. There were some… rough things on the road.” Tate looked at you. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes— are you sure you’ll be okay?” 

“It’s fine,” you said with a smile. “Do your thing. I’ll look around some, then we’ll find each other later.” 

Tate nodded thankfully and went through an open door opposite your bed, and Jace gave you a tight smile as he started to put away all the medical supplies he used on you. You sighed, slung your bag over your shoulder, and walked out. 

You shut the door behind you and blinked rapidly as you tried to adjust to the sunlight. Then, you heard someone sigh. 

“Thank the gods you’re okay.” 

You turned to see a boy standing up from the wall. Dark curls hung just above his eyes, a contrast to his tanned skin, slightly red from exertion. He was wearing the same bright orange shirt that your healer was—Camp Halfblood, it said in curved text. He was far too pretty for his own good. 

“I’m the one who carried you in,” he said, and you realized you were frowning. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“Oh,” you said. “That’s… that’s nice of you.” 

“It’s been a while since we’ve gotten someone new,” he said. “Even longer since they’ve had such a dramatic entrance.” 

You shrugged. You didn’t exactly know what to say to this boy. “Sorry.” 

He paused for a moment, and then he nodded. “Not one for conversation. That’s fine.” 

“I did almost just die,” you said wryly. “I’m fresh out of icebreakers at the moment.” 

“Maybe I can help with that.” He held out his hand. “Luke Castellan. Head Counselor of the Hermes cabin, and apparent rescuer of damsels.” 

You huffed a laugh as you stared at him. “I’m a damsel?” 

“I’d say you were in as much distress as someone could be back there,” he said with a shrug. “I practically saved your life. I think that deserves a handshake.” 

The slightest bit of tension dissolved from your shoulders and you shook his hand. His smile grew. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, dropping his hand. “You were pretty rough when I found you.” 

“Better,” you said, though you grimaced a bit as you tested your shoulder, and you decided to switch your pack to your other side. “Whoever that guy in the infirmary is, he’s good.” 

Luke nodded. “Son of Apollo—they’ve got healing abilities. Very useful when we’re all constantly getting injured.” 

Your brows knit together. “So it really is all real.” 

“You were nearly dead on our doorstep, and from those claw marks I’m guessing it wasn’t just a bad fall.” Luke offered a wry smile. “I’m sure you’ve known it’s all real for a while.” 

“Of course,” you said. “It’s just weird to really know that it’s all real. To see all of you, really. Just knowing I’m not alone.” 

He nodded. “That’s the best thing about it, knowing you’re not alone.” He looked around at your surroundings—various campers chatting as they walked with each other (some glancing at you as they went by), distant shouts and cheers, and a perfectly blue sky matching the perfectly blue house you just left. 

“I’d say the worst thing about it is feeling like I still have no idea what’s going on,” you said. “Unless the gods exist just to be deadbeats. That’d be disappointing.” 

Luke actually laughed at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and you found yourself smiling a bit. “I can tell we’re gonna get along.” 

Your own smile returned—it was like his joy was infectious. “You think so?” 

“I know so,” he nodded. “Just… try not to throw the gods’ names around like that. They don’t like to be talked about unless they’re being revered.” 

You huffed. “Sounds like an interesting place.” 

“Camp Halfblood,” he provided, and he gestured around you with his hand. “Keeping young heroes safe for over three millennia.” 

“What,” you said wryly, “are you their PR guy?” 

Luke laughed and shook his head. “It’s something Chiron likes to say.”

“You’re the second person to mention Chiron,” you said. “Who exactly is he?” 

“You haven’t gotten a tour yet?” 

You gave him a look. “Come on. You carried me in. You think I could have gotten a tour between then and now?” 

“Fair,” he admitted, and he tilted his head. “I can give you one, if you’re so inclined.” 

“I said I would wait for Tate,” you said. “He’s my satyr— I figure I owe it to him.” 

“C’mon,” Luke said. “He’s meeting Chiron and Mr. D—that’ll take long enough on its own, and if we don’t get out of here soon enough, you’re gonna get dragged into a whole other conversation with them. At least this way, you can get a little bit of downtime before all the lore of this place is dropped on you.” 

You bit your lip, and then you sighed and nodded. “Fine. But it can’t take too long.” 

Luke smiled and held up three fingers. “Halfblood’s honor.” 

-

You didn’t know where to start.

There were far more people than you expected, not nearly enough beds for all of them, and half were talking and a quarter were fighting and the others were just completely unfazed. All you could do when you walked in was stare.

“You get used to it,” Luke said, glancing over at you. “Everyone’s nice, I promise—just keep a hand on your pockets.” 

You frowned. “Why?” 

He gave you a crooked smile. “Hermes is the god of thieves. We learn by experience in this cabin.” 

Your hands instinctively reached back to the pockets of your jeans, despite the fact that you hardly had anything to your name. “Why do they put the new, naive kids in here again?” 

“God of travellers, too—all are welcome.” Luke saw your hand shoot to your pocket and laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone mess with you too much—for now, at least.” 

“Oh, good,” you said lightly. “The hazing doesn’t start until later.” 

Luke smiled as he continued to guide you through the cabin, nodding to and greeting campers with equal parts names and handshakes as he walked past them. You got just as many stares as Luke did hellos, and your skin crawled at the attention. 

“Why are they all looking at me?” you whispered to him. 

“Like I said, you’re the first new camper in a while.” Luke glanced at you. “News spreads fast, especially in this wreck of a place.” 

“It’s not that bad,” you said , but your grip tightened on your backpack strap. “Just very busy.”

“That’s what happens when they shove everyone in here,” Luke said. “All are welcome means all are welcome—Hermes kids, unclaimed kids, and kids of minor gods.”

You frowned. “Minor gods don’t have cabins?” 

“This place is as much for us as it is in honor of the gods,” he said. “Twelve cabins for twelve Olympians. They don’t see it as a problem, therefore we can’t see it as a problem.” 

You decided to bite your tongue, but you couldn’t hide your sigh. “I guess I’m gonna be here for the time being.” 

He looked you up and down, and all you could think was that you must look like an absolute disaster. “I’m guessing you fall into the unclaimed.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, a sad attempt at a smile. “Yeah, but I just got here—I bet my mom doesn’t even know it yet. Gods are busy.”

“They’re also omniscient,” Luke said wryly. “I’m sure she could have claimed you the second you crossed the border. Your parent could’ve given you a little divine intervention and kept you from nearly dying on the hill.”

“Well, I’m here for now,” you said with a bit too much force, and your nails dug into your palms. “So do you mind showing me around?” 

Luke stared at you for a moment before he smiled. “‘Course not. I can also give you a quick tour of camp too, if you haven’t already gotten one.”

You shook your head. “Only the infirmary.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “you heal up well.”

“I don’t think that’s a credit to me,” you said. “I think it’s whatever magical drink that healer gave me while he was trying to bring me back. Tasted like pecan pie.”

“Nectar,” he said as he started walking, and you followed behind him. “Drink  of the gods that heals demigods in small portions. It tastes like your favorite food—same as ambrosia.” He stopped in an empty corner and looked at you. “You like pecans?”

You shrugged, suddenly self conscious. “My dad makes it the best.”

“I hope you’ll be able to get the real thing soon,” he said, and then he gestured with a flourish at the same empty corner. “Welcome to your new home.”

You stared at him. “This is the floor.”

“We’re a little overbooked,” Luke said sheepishly. “If it makes you feel better, we’ve got sleeping bags. And this is a top tier corner. Quieter than the others.”

“…Great,” you said. “I feel very welcome.”

“I’m sorry.” To his credit, he sounded like he meant it. “Bunch of unclaimed kids, couple kids of minor gods, couple Hermes kids—it all kinda adds up to a mess.”

“...It’ll be better than camping,” you said, though mostly to yourself as you took your bag off your shoulder and let it thud to the ground. 

“Hey,” Luke said, and his voice was softer, “it’ll be okay. With any luck, your parent’ll notice you now that you’re at camp, and you’ll be claimed before you know it.” 

“I hope so,” you murmured. 

“Luke, who’s the new girl?” 

A boy with curls just as good as Luke’s walked up and clapped him on the back, smiling at you in a way that instantly set you at ease. He also wore the orange camp shirt, with long tan sleeves below that he’d pushed up to his forearms. He had kind eyes. 

Luke said your name, his own smirk on his lips as he looked back at you. “You’ve probably heard about her dramatic entrance by now, but she’s the newest resident of the Hermes cabin.”

“Unclaimed or your sibling?” he asked. 

“...Unclaimed,” you said yourself. You hadn’t even been here for more than two hours and it already felt like your own brand of shame.  

He repeated your name with a nod and held out his hand. “I’m Chris,” he said. “Fellow unclaimed kid.”

A little bit less of a scarlet letter, at least. You swallowed your budding insecurity and shook his hand. “Sounds like a shitty club to be in.”

He snorted. “You’re telling me.”

“How— how long has it been?” you asked hesitantly, almost afraid to know the answer. 

His lips pressed into a tight smile. “Couple years.” 

“Gods,” you murmured. You didn’t know if you’d be able to wait that long. It had been hard enough already growing up without one—if your mother was just out of reach after all this time, you would surely lose your mind. 

“Don’t worry,” Chris said, his expression softening a bit. “It won’t take that long for you. I can tell.” 

“That’s what Luke said,” you responded wryly. “Do I give off a vibe that says ‘I’m unwanted, but not for too long’?” 

Luke laughed and shook his head. “I promise, it’s all gonna be okay. I’ve been the counselor here for a couple months—kids get claimed all the time. I bet you’re next on the list.” 

“Maybe,” you said. You didn’t believe it as much as they did—if they did at all. 

You heard the door open and your head automatically turned to the noise, and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment as Tate came through, slightly out of breath. You stared at Luke—he said thirty minutes at least. He just shrugged. 

“I figured you would be here,” Tate said, his chest rising and falling just so as he walked—trotted?—inside. “You didn’t exactly wait.” 

You opened your mouth to speak up, but Luke beat you, already putting on a charming smile. “Sorry. We got to talking, and then I offered to show her around the Hermes cabin. Just so she  could put her things down, y’know.” 

“‘Course,” Tate nodded. “That— that was probably a good idea. Would have been bad if you got lost or something.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you went to pick your bag up. “Luke said you would be talking for a lot longer— I was going to come back after I was done with this.”

Tate shook his head. That nervous energy from the worst parts of the road was back, and you wondered how badly the talk with Chiron and Mr. D went. “No, it was a good idea. Better than you getting lost around camp or caught up with some troublemakers. Thanks, Luke.” 

“‘Course,” he said. 

“Not sure she’s in much better hands with Luke,” Chris said wryly. “He’s head troublemaker in the cabin of troublemakers.” 

Luke just chuckled and shook his head. “It’s her first day. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.” 

You were only able to glance at Luke for a moment before your attention was drawn back to Tate as he gestured outside with his head. “Chiron’s waiting outside. He wants to talk to you some before the tour.” 

And now you had to deal with it too. “...Great,” you said. You set your bag back on the ground, in your newly coveted corner.  

“It’ll be fine,” Tate promised. “You already went through Hades to get here— he’s not gonna pile on you more. That’s why Mr. D is back at the Big House.” 

This time, you did look at Luke. Thankfully, he understood. 

“Dionysus,” he explained. “He’s our camp director.” 

You blinked. “The god?” 

“Yep,” he nodded. “Punishment from Zeus. Not the worst gig, but he’s… interesting.” 

“Great,” you repeated, because you didn’t feel like processing that at the moment, and you looked back at Tate. “You’ll be with me, right?” 

He nodded. “Not for the talk, but for the tour.” 

You let out a loose breath, because it was going to be fine. He was just the authority figure of the one safe place in the world for you, and you were just an annoying kid that had no idea what the hell was going on. 

“Great,” you said for the third time. You looked back at Luke. “I’ll see you around?” 

He smiled and bowed his head. “Definitely. You do kinda live here indefinitely now.” 

You nodded, more relieved than you wanted to show, and you started following Tate out.

You heard Chris mutter something to Luke, and you turned your head in time to see Luke jab him in the side. His head perked up when you laughed, and his whole expression changed as his smile returned and he did a little wave. 

You couldn’t help but smile back as you did the same, and you left the cabin with a little pep in your step. 

—

“You promise you’ll be safe.” 

“Yes, Tate,” you said with a slight laugh. “The worst is already over—you got me here, and we’re both alive. I’m gonna be fine.” 

“I know,” he said, and he managed his own smile. “I’m just worried about you. You don’t spend two weeks on the road fighting for your life with someone and not get a little attached.” 

“You’ll be back here, right?” you asked. “I know your whole thing as a Protector, but you’ve gotta drop the demigods off too, right?” 

“Of course I’ll be back,” he promised. “It… just might be a while. You’re the third demigod I’ve gotten to camp safely, now—Chiron’s trusting me with a bigger mission. It might be a couple months, but I’ll be back.” 

“And you’re telling me to be safe,” you said wryly. 

“I’ve been doing this for a while,” he said. “You just got here.” 

“I know,” you said, and you pulled him into a hug. “Just don’t get killed out there.” 

Tate laughed and patted you on the back before he pulled away. “So long as you don’t killed out here.” 

“Thanks for everything,” you said with a nod. 

“Thank you,” he said, and he gestured at the pavilion with his head. “Now get over there and make some friends. I’ll see you around.” 

You hugged him one last time before you reluctantly went off, and you looked back to wave him goodbye before you really started on your way. 

Your head still spun with all the information Chiron and Tate had imparted on you—so much about Greek mythology (and how it was all real), ADHD and dyslexia (and how they weren’t just there to make your life harder), your godly parent (who would hopefully claim you within the month) and so much more that you knew you would forget in an hour or two. 

And Chiron’s talk. God, it felt more like you were in the principal’s office than anything, even though he was nothing but kind. You couldn’t help but be overwhelmed from it all, and though the talk was probably meant to stave some of that anxiety off, it really didn’t. 

But you’d always felt out of place all your life. And now you were finally where you were meant to belong—that had to count for something. 

Tate had dropped you off at the pavilion—nearly dying had taken a lot out of you, and it just happened to be lunch—and just as you neared the tables and realized you had no idea where to sit, your eyes were drawn to a boy raising his hand and calling your name. 

You looked over and saw that it was Luke, the counselor from earlier, and you couldn’t help but smile. True to his word. 

You weaved your way through various campers and around tables full of kids to finally stop next to Luke’s table—Chris, the guy from earlier, sat across from him, and they both smiled at you. 

“How’d the tour go?” he asked. 

“Fine,” you said with a nod. “A little overwhelming, but better than I thought.” You pulled at your new camp shirt, the fabric noticeably brighter than a majority of those around you. “I match now, at least.”

“Orange suits you,” Luke remarked, and he patted the open spot next to him. “Sit down—stay for a while.”

You chuckled as you sat down. You still felt out of place, but at least they weren’t going to hang you out to dry. “Bright orange seems like an odd choice when we’re trying to stay hidden.”

“Probably so Chiron doesn’t lose us,” he joked. “This place is huge, and there’s a lot of us. When the newest camper gets turned around in the woods during capture the flag and nearly dies to a monster, it’s easier to find them.”

You frowned, and you must’ve not been very good at hiding your panic because Chris shook his head.

“Luke, you’re scaring her. She’s already been through enough.” 

“Don’t worry,” Luke said, patting you on the shoulder. “Just a little halfblood humor. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you said wryly. “It feels like I nearly died four hours ago and now I have no idea who anyone is or what to do.”

“Not true,” Chris spoke up, and he smiled. “You know us.”

“I’ll look out for you,” Luke promised. “And pretty soon, you’re gonna be good enough to look out for me.”

You let out a long lasting sigh. “God, I hope so.” 

—

“You’re not holding it right.” 

You adjusted your hold on the hilt, resisting the urge to wipe away the bead of sweat dripping down your forehead and the even stronger urge to hit him. 

“You’re still not holding it right.” 

Your teeth grinded together as you turned to look at Luke. “Are you gonna actually help me, or just stand there judgmentally?” 

“I dunno,” he said. “The weather’s pretty good over here.” 

You groaned and moved your non-dominant hand closer to the pommel, shifting your other down as well. “Is this worthy of your approval, Your Majesty?” 

Luke chuckled as he walked over to you, and you could feel the calluses on his hands as he adjusted your form with slight touches to your arms. “It is acceptable, my lady, but your posture is not.” 

“I don’t know how so many people at this camp like you,” you grumbled. “This is awful, and so are you.” 

He smiled. “You’ve been here for two weeks. Give yourself some grace.” 

“I’ve spent one of those trying and failing at the most basic basics of sword-fighting,” you said. “I spent the past hour losing to an Ares kid who I’m pretty sure actually wanted to kill me.” You looked over at Luke. “Thanks for that, by the way.” 

“Trial by fire,” he supplied. “You’re still alive, so obviously you’re doing something right.” 

“Yeah, probably because you’re here,” you said. “You can’t just kill someone when their counselor’s standing right next to them. It’s bad publicity.” 

Luke huffed a laugh and shook his head as he crossed his arms. “Stop talking down on yourself. You managed to make it here with a couple monster attacks on the way—what’d you use then?” 

“I started off with a screwdriver I stole from the garage before Tate and I left,” you said. “And then I stole a hunting knife from some outdoor store. Not exactly top-tier.” 

“Lotta stealing,” Luke chuckled. “Maybe you are a Hermes kid.” 

“They nearly caught me,” you said. “Definitely not.” 

“Regardless of thievery, you still survived,” he continued. “You’re not a bonafide swordsman, that’s fine. But you’re resourceful, creative—scrappy in a fight is just what we need sometimes.” 

“Great,” you mumbled. “I’m ‘scrappy’.” 

“It’s a compliment,” he promised. “If we were all sword-fighters, we wouldn’t get far. Someone like you is gonna do us a lot of good.” 

“If I don’t die before I even get out to the battlefield.” You knocked the helmet off of one of the straw dummies with your sword and sighed as it clattered to the ground. “This is the only enemy I stand a chance against.”

“You’re thinking too much about it all,” Luke said. “You’re literally wired for battle—didn’t you feel it during your fights on the way to camp?”

You shrugged. You guess you did—you remember not even taking the time to analyze the situation, just knowing your lives were in danger and finally feeling the ever-present jitters in your bones settle for the first time. 

“It was rough,” you finally said. “But… it did feel like I knew what I was doing. Like my body understood it all even when my mind was still a couple steps behind.”

“And that was without training, and with,” Luke huffed an incredulous laugh, “a screwdriver. Just imagine what you’ll be able to do with actual Celestial bronze and actual training.” 

“…I think I remember why people like you,” you said reluctantly. “And why I liked you.” 

Luke grinned as he stood up. “That’s the spirit.” He picked up the fallen helmet and placed it back on the dummy, then looked at you. “I think I’ve put you through enough suffering. Let’s get lunch.”

“So a compliment was all it took for me to get out of this?” you asked in exasperation, gesturing with your sword as you worked to undo the ties on your armor with your other hand. 

“Exactly,” he mused, and he took the sword from you to store it away. “I don’t get nearly enough compliments these days, y’know. Sometimes you end up taking that out on campers that don’t know how to swordfight.” 

“Luke Castellan,” you grumbled as you finally got your breastplate off, “you are a piece of work.” 

He winked. “Thank you.” 

—

You didn’t think you were built for this life. 

It was the only thought running through your head as you sat at a crowded Hermes table, absentmindedly picking at fruit with your fork as you stared off into the distance.

You’d been at Camp Halfblood for a month now, but it had already felt like a lifetime. 

You’d managed to make a few friends—a Demeter girl who grew you a bouquet of your favorite flowers as a consolation prize for fighting dirty during training; an Athena boy who told you whatever interesting fact popped into his head first every time you ran into each other; the Hebe girl who had the misfortune to have the corner opposite you in the Hermes cabin and showed you skincare tips once in a while. 

Throw in a smattering of Hermes and unclaimed kids and a counselor that seemed determined to make you smile, and you weren’t as lonely as you thought you’d be. 

You were learning how to fight in your own way. Luke was right—you weren’t a swordsman, but you were damn good up close and personal. He’d taken you to the camp armory, you found a Celestial bronze dagger that spoke to you, and from then on you’d actually been doing well in training.

Your corner of the Hermes cabin didn’t feel as sad anymore, either. Luke took you to the camp store for retail therapy after you nearly burned your jeans off on the climbing wall, so now you had an AC/DC poster (courtesy of the little money you had) and an I ❤️ NY keychain to attach to your backpack (courtesy of Luke’s idle hands).

You were starting to come into your own, sure. You were doing better in training and making friends in the cabin you were stuck in and starting to get used to burning part of every meal, but the most glaring issue of all still hadn’t been resolved.

You still hadn’t been claimed. 

And maybe it shouldn’t have been such an issue for you, but how could you not feel shitty? How could you see all the different tables and all the different kids talking and smiling and joking with each other that had parents who cared enough to at least claim them, and not feel unworthy?

Because you did. You felt unworthy, and it didn’t matter how many times you took your sparring partner down or bested the climbing wall or actually hit the bullseye at archery practice—your mother didn’t think you were good enough, so neither did you. 

“How’re you doin’, Berkeley?” 

You frowned. You didn’t have to look up to know it was Luke as he sat down next to you. “What?”

“Did you not hear me?” he asked, but you were already shaking your head.

“Berkeley,” you repeated, finally glancing at him. “That’s not my name.”

Luke shrugged. “I dunno what to tell you. You’re unclaimed. UC. University of California—first one I think of for you is Berkeley.”

You were staring now. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’ve got tons of UCs. I’ve gotta keep track of them all somehow,” Luke said, and he pointed at campers both at your table and walking around as he talked. “That’s LA, Irvine, Davis—the others aren’t here, but you get the gist.” He looked back at you. “Been savin’ Berkeley for someone special.”

“Oh gods,” you said, horrified. “I’ve got to get claimed.”

One of the girls at the table—Irvine?—rolled her eyes as she stood up and flicked Luke on the head. “Be nice,” she said before walking away. All he did was smile.

“Maybe give it to someone else,” you said. “I don’t feel special.”

Luke’s brows creased. “If you don’t like it—”

“It’s fine,” you said. “The name doesn’t bother me. The reason I have it does.”

His eyes softened as he said your actual name. “It’s only been a month. You’ve still got plenty of time.”

You looked across at the Hebe girl you’d become friends with—Marisol, if you remembered right—and hoped that your eyes didn’t show the desperation you felt. “How long did it take for you?” 

She offered a sympathetic smile. “Six months. But it probably won’t be that long for you.” 

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” you mumbled. But it had been a month, and you hadn’t gotten a single sign. 

“Because it’s true,” Luke urged. “Whoever your mom is will notice you—you’ve been killing it lately.” 

“Really,” you said flatly, “I’ve been killing it.” 

“Yes,” he said. “You don’t know it because you’ve only got your own experience—you went from nearly dead on our doorstep to taking down most of your opponents.” 

“In training,” you said. 

“That still counts!” Luke exclaimed. “Y’know, you’re holding yourself back. You’re incredible, but you’re the only one that seems to not notice it.” 

“And my—” 

“Do not say your mom,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “We’re not talking about the gods right now, we’re talking about you. And you, Bee, are killing it.” 

That gave you pause. “Bee?” 

“I’m trying to get you back up and you focus on the nickname?” Luke asked wryly. 

“Just explain it,” you said. 

“Bee shortened from Berkeley,” he said. “Not fully unclaimed, but still something special.”

God, you hated him. You’d been feeling shitty for a majority of your month here, but he always managed to make you smile.  

“Sure,” you said. 

“And a little annoying,” he added, earning himself a jab in the side as he laughed, “with a bit of a sting.”

“Aren’t you just so clever?” you mused, though you couldn’t help your smile widening.

“It’s in my genes,” he said proudly.

For the rest of a less than exciting lunch, Luke kept you occupied. Whether it was stories of his life before camp, or the couple of months that earned him counselor before you got here, or getting the other campers at the Hermes table to talk about themselves, he made sure you didn’t get a chance to spiral. 

By the end, your face hurt from smiling

As you finished cleaning up, Marisol turned to you.  “Me and a couple other girls were gonna go play volleyball—do you wanna come with us?” 

“Yeah,” you said, and your smile grew. “Yeah, I’d love to. Thanks.” 

“‘Course!” she exclaimed, and she linked arms with you. “I’d be a fool not to get you on my team after you took down Liam yesterday.” 

She continued to talk as she pulled you along, and you looked back at Luke. He chuckled and gave you a thumbs up. “Go get ‘em, Bee!” 

You gave him one back, and as you turned back to Marisol, you found that you couldn’t stop smiling. 

—

It was two in the morning and you couldn’t stop crying.

You finally had a mattress against your back, and however stiff it was, it was better than the floor. A decent amount of kids got claimed over the past month, and half the cabin left after the summer was over, so you finally had the privilege of a bunk—thankfully, Marisol did too, and she was below you. 

At least, until the summer-only campers that all the Hermes kids liked more than you returned. Then it was back to the floor.

Unless you got claimed before then. But that was less likely than being able to muster some good will from your cabin mates. 

Because it was embarrassing, truly. You’d been at camp for four months now, and you hadn’t even gotten a single goddamn peep from whoever your mother might be. You just woke up every day on the floor, moseyed about a camp that still didn’t feel like home, burned offerings to a god that didn't want you, and went back to sleep on the floor. 

And now you were crying in a bed that was barely even yours and it was two in the morning and you were wondering if it would have just been better for you to die on the road to camp the first time, because at least then your mother might have actually paid attention to you. 

“Hey.” 

And now you were really wishing you’d died because you’d woken someone up and they’re just gonna hate you more— 

“Are you okay?” 

You finally turned your head from where it had been buried in a pillow, a laissez-faire attempt to suffocate yourself or maybe just muffle the noise, and you saw Luke Castellan. Counselor of a cabin of thieves, vagabonds, and rejects, and maybe the only person that you didn’t want to see you like this. All that good will, the unearned faith you’d accumulated—this was the easiest way to lose it. His eyebrows were creased, and his whisper held what sounded like concern, but he was required to be concerned. 

You nodded, still not moving, still not speaking. Tears rolled down your cheeks and stained the bed sheet. 

“You’re gonna have to be a little more believable than that, Bee,” Luke murmured. 

“No, I don’t,” you whispered back. 

You got the tiniest huff of a laugh out of him, and he gestured towards the closed door with his head. “Wanna take a second?” 

“It’s past curfew,” you mumbled. 

“And you’re miserable,” Luke said. “You can’t feel any worse getting eaten by harpies than you do now.” 

Still, you stared at him. 

“It’ll be okay,” he promised. “Right outside the cabin. Harpies won’t even know.” 

You rubbed a hand across your face, coming away wet with tears, and you realized that he wasn’t just going to leave you like this. So you got up as quietly as you could, careful not to disturb your bunkmates, and followed Luke. He pushed the door open and shut so quietly you wondered how many times he’s snuck out. 

The cold air was sobering, and you wiped away more tears before wrapping your arms around yourself. Camp Half-Blood was always supposed to have perfect weather, but you guess not even they were immune to November nights. 

“So,” Luke started, and in your peripherals you could see him leaning against the side of the cabin. You could feel his gaze on you, and you just stared off into the distance. 

“So,” you repeated. 

“You wanna tell me why you’re crying in the middle of the night?” he asked. 

“Not really,” you said, because it felt ridiculous that a boy your age was acting like he’s ten years your elder. 

Luke chuckled and tipped his head. “Fair. You want to say anything at all?” 

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” 

He shook his head. “I was already up. I’m a light sleeper.” 

“Seems rough in a cabin like this,” you said. 

“I’ve gotten used to it,” he said. “Did you have a nightmare?”

You frowned, because now it really felt like he was babying you. Luke must have caught on, because he laughed a bit and shook his head.

“Demigods have… extremely vivid dreams,” he said. “Typically horrific nightmares. Sometimes prophetic.”

Your frown deepened. “That’s awful.”

Luke shrugged. “It’s just the way it is. The gods can’t interfere in mortal affairs, so I guess it’s their way of letting us know what’s wrong.”

You shook your head with a sigh. “No nightmares, thankfully. Just… feeling overwhelmed.”

“About what?” he asked. “I told you you’ve been doing great.” 

“It doesn’t matter how many times you say it,” you said wryly. “It doesn’t mean I believe it.” 

“There’s no reason you shouldn’t,” he asserted. 

You huffed a laugh. “It’s been four months, Luke. Four months since I got here after nearly dying in five different states, and I don’t even know who’s responsible for it.” 

“Ah,” Luke said. “The unclaimed thing.” 

“Yeah,” you said wryly. “I guess you could call it that.”

“Sorry,” he said, and he shook his head. “It’s a bigger deal than that, I know.” 

“Maybe it isn’t,” you said. “There’s at least six other kids in there dealing with the same thing as I am, and none of them are waking up their counselor in the middle of the night with their tears.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Luke said with surprising conviction. “Like your feelings aren’t valid. Because they are.” 

You crossed your arms. “Doesn’t seem like it.” 

“They are,” he insisted. “A— and you’re not bothering me. We’re friends, and we help each other. I care about you, y’know.” 

“I never said I was bothering you,” you said wryly. 

“You thought it,” Luke said. “I know you did.” 

“...Maybe.” You sighed and shook your head as you looked out at the stars. They really were beautiful here. “I just can’t help but be bitter about all this, and I feel so shitty about it.” 

“Would it make you feel better to know you’re not the only one that thinks that?” he asked. 

“A little, yeah.” You glanced at him. “No one else seems too bothered that their parents are never around.” 

“Most of them have accepted that it’s just the way it is,” he said. “Doesn’t mean you have to.” 

“Have you?” 

Luke sighed after a moment of reluctance. “I… I have a complicated relationship with my dad because he was around. It was almost… worse to know him, and then to have him leave.” 

“It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” you quoted. 

“I don’t know about that,” Luke murmured. “But it certainly helps to talk about it.” 

You glanced over to see him gazing off into the distance, a look in his eye that you couldn’t quite place. This was the most he’d ever talked about his past to you, you realized—and it still wasn’t much. 

“When were you claimed?” you asked after a moment of contemplation.

Luke shrugged. “I never really had to be. Hermes stayed with my mom for a year after I was born, and she told me who he was when I was a little older. I’ve known basically my whole life—he had no reason not to claim me as soon as I got to camp.”

“So you’re saying my dad could be keeping secrets from me too,” you said. 

“He might not know,” Luke said. “A lot of times, they don’t talk about it. Sometimes, we don’t find out until a monster’s trying to kill us on a field trip.” 

You huffed. “What a great existence we’ve been blessed with.” 

Luke smiled, though it was tighter than usual. He let out a deep breath, then fully turned to you. 

“Do you have your dagger with you?”

You frowned. “It’s under my pillow. Why?” 

“Under your—” Luke stared for a moment before he laughed and shook his head. “A little paranoid?” 

You shrugged. “You said it yourself. You’re a cabin of thieves.” 

“True,” he admitted. “How’d you like to get some of this emotion out?” 

“We’re sneaking out even more?” 

“It’ll be fine,” Luke promised. 

“You always say that,” you said. “Eventually, it’s not gonna be true.” 

He laughed and gestured at the door. “Get your dagger. We’re gonna make this a very bad night for some mannequins.” 

-

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.” 

You huffed as you ripped your dagger out of the dummy, a few strands of straw coming out of the new hole you’d torn in its forehead, and wiped the sweat off your forehead. “Are you kidding? This was a great idea.” 

“Not this part,” he said. “The ‘being alone with you during a rage’ part.” 

“I’m not in a rage,” you muttered as you slashed at the breastplate, “I’m blowing off steam.” 

Luke hummed. “And you thought you weren’t a good fighter.” 

You stabbed at the armor again then rammed your fist into its head, and you took a step back as the mannequin thudded to the ground. “I guess I just need to think about my mom before I go into battle.” 

“Y’know, Bee,” Luke said, “you scare me sometimes.” 

You shook your head, wiping your blade on your night shirt to get any debris off as you turned around. “You’re really gonna stick with that?” 

“I told you I’d stop if you didn’t like it.” 

“It’s not that. I just…” You sighed and shook your head again. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Of course it does.” Luke crossed his arms. “Everything you have to say matters.” 

“Not if I say it doesn’t,” you countered, and you looked at him. “Who do you think it could be?” 

“Your parent?” he asked. You nodded. 

“Definitely not Apollo,” Luke said. “You’re way too dreary to be a kid of the god of the sun.”

“Gee,” you said dryly, “thanks.” 

Luke shrugged. “You asked.” 

“Well— who else?” You picked the dummy back up and dusted the armor off. “Athena, maybe? I’m smart.” 

“Not smart enough to not be out past curfew with me,” he said. 

“You suggested this,” you scoffed. “And I definitely needed it. If we get caught, I’m blaming you.” 

“And why do you think that would work?” he asked, amused. 

“You’re the camp’s golden boy,” you said. “I doubt you’d get in much trouble.” 

“Sure, sure,” he said, nodding. “Or you just think I’m good enough to talk my way out of it.” 

You tilted your head. “That too.”

“I never thought Ares before,” Luke chuckled, “but after all this, I think you might have it in you.” 

“God, I hope not. Priya hates me.” 

“She doesn’t hate you,” Luke said. “She just tried to kill you that one time.” 

“And that other time during capture the flag,” you said. “She’s out for blood, Luke.” 

He chuckled and shook his head. “She always is. She’s probably already moved onto her next victim.” 

“I hope so.” 

“Maybe Aphrodite?” he suggested. “You’re awfully pretty.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Luke corrected. 

You huffed a laugh but couldn’t help the slightest smile as you shook your head. “It’s not Tyche, at least. I have the worst luck.” 

“Maybe you’re a Big Three kid,” he said. “How do you feel about the sky?” 

“I like it,” you said. 

“The ocean?” 

“Not so much.” 

“And the darkness?” 

You huffed a dry laugh. “I’m not a Big Three kid, Luke. Even I know that.” 

“No, you don’t,” he said. “You can never know for sure until you’re claimed.” 

“If I was, I would be the biggest disappointment,” you said, looking at your reflection in your dagger. “Breaking their pact for a kid that can barely fight.” 

“Why do you always do that?” 

Luke’s voice had lost the joking edge from before, and when you glanced over at him, he was frowning.

“Do what?” 

“You always put yourself down,” he said. “You don’t even give yourself a chance to believe that you’ll be great, or that you’ll succeed—you’re just a coward, or a failure, or worthless at the first bump in the road.” 

“Luke—” 

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I need you to understand that you are so, so much more than whatever that shitty voice in your head says.”

You went silent. Any words you could have even said stuck in your throat. 

“This is not an easy life,” Luke asserted. “We’re thrown into an ocean before we know how to swim, and we have to find the shore all on our own or die trying. We—” he laughed, but there was no heart in it— “we’ve got our parents above us that could guide us, could save us, but most of the time they refuse to even acknowledge us. And we’ve got every single goddamn obstacle in the way trying to kill us.”

He inclined his head towards you. “But in spite of all that, you’re alive. You’re still here. You’re pushing through everything in your path, and you are still fucking here. Do you get that?”

“…I’m still here,” you repeated, and your hands clenched into fists. It had never felt more right to have your dagger in your hand. 

Luke nodded resolutely. “And you’ve got a couple lifeboats to help along the way.”

“You mean it?” Your voice came out softer than you thought, in stark contrast to the stiffness of your bones, but you felt like a kid all over again. 

“With all my heart,” he promised. “For as long as you’re here, I’ll be here.” 

Your throat tightened, and the telltale beginnings of tears pricked behind your eyes. This time, when you spoke, your voice was little more than a whisper. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he said. “And I mean that.”

You nodded, maybe a few too many times, and cleared your throat as you looked back at your dagger. “It’s late. We should get back before we actually get in trouble.”

Luke nodded too, and he helped you move the dummy back into place. You hated how your heart jumped into your throat when your hands brushed for the barest moment, but thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. 

“Thank you for this.” You played with your hands as Luke finished putting everything else away—extra insurance to make sure no one knew you were here—and only managed to make eye contact just as he looked at you. “It… it really helped.” More than he knew, you were sure. 

Luke smiled, and he offered you his arm. “Always.”

You took it, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “Just… don’t tell anyone about the crying.”

He chuckled as you started walking together. “After the way you’ve been handling that dagger? I’d be a fool.“

-

“Luke,” you groaned, “this is awful.” 

“You were the one who said you wanted to spend time with me,” he said, giving you a crooked smile. “Spending time with me after the worst cabin inspection ever means cleaning the place head to toe for our next one.” 

“Is skipping dinner really worth it though?” you asked as you scooped up a pile of dirty clothes and tossed it into the basket between you two. 

“It’s the only time this place is completely empty,” he said. “I told you I could handle it alone—you’re the one that insisted on helping.” 

“Maybe I do want to be a Big Three kid,” you grumbled. “At least I’d only be cleaning up my own mess.” 

“You’d also have the wrath of the gods and every monster in the world to deal with,” he said. 

You shook your head. “A small price to pay for a clean cabin.” 

“And then you wouldn’t get to see me when you wake up every day,” he mused. “A much bigger price to pay.” 

You huffed as you dropped to your knees, reaching under a bed to grab a stray camp tee. “Keep talking, pretty boy. It won’t clean the floors.” 

Luke grinned. “You think I’m pretty?” 

“I think you’ve got the messiest cabin in the world,” you said. “We’ve gotten the lowest rating every day for the past two weeks. I’ve been here for seven months now, and I don’t think we’ve ever gotten a full five.” 

“Which is why you’re helping me!” he said. “Because you’re as sick of scrubbing the pegasi stables as I am.” 

“You’re the counselor here!” you exclaimed. “You’ve gotta whip your siblings into shape.” 

Luke gestured at you. “You’re basically my co-counselor. It’s just as much your responsibility.” 

“And just what makes you think that?” you marveled. 

“You’re the person in the cabin I like the most,” he said, “and we spend a lot of time together. That’s enough to make you my partner.” 

“My stuff is always clean,” you said. “It’s you and the rest of the Hermes kids that’ve gotten us stuck in the stables and the kitchens every afternoon. Not me.”

You started remaking the unmade bed—would it kill any of the Hermes kids to make theirs right after they got up?—and shook your head. “It’s just not fair. Aphrodite’s cabin is basically Barbie’s Dreamhouse, and Demeter kids can grow plants to make it all pretty. We’ve just got a cabin of slobs.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, but when you glanced at him, you saw he was smiling. “It’ll all be fine.” 

“You always say that.” You got the fitted sheet into all the corners then looked at him full-on. “Even when it’s not about something as stupid as laundry. How do you know?” 

Luke shrugged as he nudged a ladder to a top bunk back into place. “I don’t. I just hope for the best.” 

“How do you do that?” you asked. “How does anyone here do that? I feel like I’m the most pessimistic person here.” 

“Every single one of us is an anomaly,” Luke said. “Freaks of nature. By all accounts of logic, we shouldn’t exist. But we do. All of mythology does. And when we have to literally fight for our lives for every single day, it doesn’t do much good to sweat the small stuff.”

“All I do is sweat the small stuff,” you grumbled, and you stretched your back out before you continued. “D’you think they’ll get annoyed that we just pooled all their laundry together again?” 

“Nah,” Luke said. “If they didn’t want to have to pick all their stuff out after we so graciously do the laundry for them, they would keep their things clean in the first place.” 

You chuckled and shook your head as you finished laying out the sorry excuse for a comforter—it would end up on the floor five seconds into the night, but Sisyphus and the boulder and all that—and sat down on the fruits of your labor. “I think this mess is the one thing I won’t miss when I get claimed.” 

“You’re not as down about that as you used to be,” Luke noted.

“You know how they say a watched pot never boils?” 

He actually laughed at that as he leaned against a bed post. “If you don’t care, you’ll get claimed faster?” 

You shrugged. “Nothing else has worked. And like you said—don’t sweat the small stuff, right?” 

“Like you said— all you do is sweat the small stuff.” 

“Maybe I’m gonna try and turn over a new leaf,” you mused.

“I think that would be good for you,” he said. “You’ve been happier lately. It’s good to see you happy.” 

“You’ve been watching?” you asked wryly. 

Luke smiled. “You know I always am.” 

You ignored the warmth stirring in your chest as you shrugged. “I’ve spent way too much time this year being sad over things I can’t control. Might as well start focusing on the things I can.” 

“And to think,” he mused, “this is the same girl that wanted nothing to do with me when we first talked.” 

“Oh, please,” you said dryly, “I’ve always wanted something to do with you.” 

“And you still understand that flattery gets you everywhere,” Luke said with a grin. He pushed himself up and held out his hand. “C’mon—this place is clean enough. I think if we run, we can still make dinner.” 

“Think we’ll get in trouble for partially skipping?” you asked as you stood up and took his hand, swinging your intertwined hands a bit as you walked together. 

Luke chuckled as he pushed the door open and you walked out. “After the work we did here? We should be hailed as saints.”  

-

“Luke,” you whispered. 

His eyes shot wide open as he jolted up, and you had to stifle your laugh at his bewildered expression before he realized it was you. 

He said your name groggily, rubbing his eyes as he kept himself propped up with his other arm. “What d’you need?” 

“The stars,” you said. “They’re beautiful tonight.” 

“So are you,” he mumbled. “You don’t see me waking you up in the middle of the night to tell you that.” 

“Luke,” you said, but you couldn’t help your smile. “On topic.” 

“The stars,” he said, barely nodding in his addled state. “Good for them. I’m going back to sleep now.” 

“No, Luke—” you laughed softly and took his hand. “Come stargazing with me.” 

He closed his eyes, but he didn’t take his hand away. “You’re insane.” 

“Please,” you said. “I could never see the stars at home, not like this. They’re brighter than I’ve ever seen.” 

“It’s so late,” he complained. “Can we do it in the morning?” 

“Do you know what stargazing is?” you asked, amused. 

“Hey, lovebirds.” The annoyed, tired voice of a camper rang out as they hit the wall. “Take it outside so we can sleep.” 

Again, you had to bite back a laugh. Luke looked like he was holding back a groan, but he got up anyway, rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes. You moved to the door as quietly as possible, and you waited until he joined you on the small porch. 

“Thank you,” you said, hearing the door close, “and sorry.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Luke covered up his yawn as he held a jacket out for you. “Put this on. I’m not gonna be responsible for you getting a cold because you want to stargaze in February.” 

Your eyebrows rose as you took it. “Is this yours?” 

“Don’t think too much into it,” he said, but he had the slightest smile on his lips. “You wanna see the stars, right? Let’s see ‘em.” 

“Not here,” you said, shaking your head as you zipped up the maroon hoodie. You held out your hand once you finished. “Do you trust me?” 

“Oh, gods,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “We’re doing a trust exercise too?” 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you remarked. You took his hand and started dragging him along, a clear spot in mind. 

“You’re kidding me,” he said in exasperation. “I thought we were just gonna look at the sky for a couple minutes— you’re taking me to a second destination?”  

“Hey,” you said, “don’t sweat the small stuff.” 

“Oh, I can’t wait to use that on the harpies when they catch us and eat us,” Luke said offhandedly. “‘I’m sorry, ma’am—we’re really trying not to sweat the small stuff.’” 

You laughed as you continued on your way, and out of the corner of your eye you could see Luke smiling too, despite himself. Suddenly, though, his grip tightened on your hand and he pulled you behind one of the thicker columns of the pavilion. 

“Wh—” 

He shook his head then gestured with it to the other side of the pavilion. One of the harpies—Aello, if you remembered correctly from Chris’s rant the past week about cleaning dishes—was walking past, muttering things to herself. 

“Speak of the devil,” you marveled. You definitely weren’t a child of Tyche. 

Luke gave you a look that quite clearly said be quiet, and for some reason that only made you want to laugh more. He must have seen that glint in your eye that he’d grown used to, because he placed his hand over your mouth right before the dam was about to burst. 

You squeezed his hand tight as you tried to keep yourself from blowing your cover while Luke occupied himself with actually watching to make sure your path would clear. You were pressed right up against each other, and even through the jacket, even in the cold, you could feel his body warmth. He did say he ran hot.

Eventually, Luke let out a labored sigh and let his hand drop, and you wheezed, nearly doubling over. 

“There is something wrong with you,” he said. He was barely able to hold back his own amusement.  

“Oh my god,” you breathed, “that was awful.” 

“That was your fault!” he exclaimed. 

“How was it my fault?” you argued. “You’re the counselor here—you’re meant to be the responsible one!” 

“I was being responsible!” Luke laughed again as he ran his hand through his hair then used it to gesture at you. “You were the one that nearly got us caught—you were the one who wanted to be out here in the first place!”

 “Right,” you said, pointing your finger, “we gotta get to the beach.” 

“Stargazing on the beach,” Luke marveled. “Definitely worth nearly getting eaten.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you said as you continued to pull him along. “You could’ve said no.” 

He squeezed your hand for a moment. “We both know I can never say no to you.” 

Once you got to the beach you let go of his hand and laid down, taking care not to get sand in your sneakers. Luke sat down next to you but stayed up, watching the tide go in and out. 

At night, without a hundred campers running around making all the noise they can, you actually felt like you could breathe. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” It almost felt wrong to break the sacred silence, to insert yourself in the ambiance of nature working together in all its glory. 

“Yeah.” Luke’s voice was softer than usual, that rough edge you’d grown used to absent in the face of calmer seas. “Yeah. It’s…” 

“Serene,” you suggested. 

“Beautiful,” he said. When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you. 

“Very smooth,” you said wryly. “Now stop flirting and look at the stars.” 

Luke chuckled lightly as he let himself fall back. His hand bumped yours as he adjusted his position, and your breath caught in your throat for the barest moment. You moved it away. 

The two of you laid there together in silence gazing at the stars for what felt like forever. The gentle waves coming to shore then leaving, the scattering of sand from quiet winds, and not a single angry car horn or police siren. 

You missed home, the city. You were headstrong in your belief that Detroit was better than New York. But gods—sometimes, you just couldn’t beat camp. 

You didn’t know what possessed you to break the silence. But something had been tugging at you since the moment you laid down on the beach, and so you did. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” 

Luke didn’t miss a beat. “Always.” 

“I…” you trailed off for a moment, but you bolstered yourself. “I’m scared of what comes next.” 

You heard Luke shift in the sand and felt his eyes on you. “What do you mean?” 

“After this,” you said. “The honeymoon phase of being a demigod.” 

He huffed a laugh. “I wouldn’t say we have a honeymoon phase.” 

“You know what I mean.” A shiver went down your spine and you put your arms on your chest. Like a coffin. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.” 

“I think you need to stop getting up in the middle of the night,” he said. “It seems you have all your existential crises then.” 

You exhaled out your nose, a sorry excuse for a laugh. “I’ve heard about quests—how they can happen for no reason except a god’s will, to— to prove that you’re worthy. And all I can think about is that my mother will never claim me until I prove I’m worthy or die trying.” 

Luke was silent. You could feel your throat closing up, the threatened onslaught of tears. You blinked them back. 

“All my life, I have never felt seen,” you murmured. “And I’m terrified that the only way I will be seen is when I die.”

“Look at me.” 

You turned your head—Luke’s eyes were piercing in the moonlight. 

“I don’t care what anyone says, especially that voice in your head—you’re worth everything and more,” he said. “And you are worth so much more than becoming a martyr for a god’s approval.” 

“I wish you could tell my mom that,” you mumbled. 

“I would march right up to Olympus and say it to her face,” he said. “And if it bothers her that much, she can smite me right now.” 

That got a breathy laugh out of you from the pure absurdity. Luke’s eyes flicked to the sky as he waited, and when he didn’t instantly die a horrific death, his gaze went back to you. 

“I see you,” Luke promised, his voice low. “And I’ll make everyone see you the way I do. I swear it.” 

You were starstruck. You couldn’t look away from him, from the determination etched into each detail of his face, the softness in his eyes directed wholly at you—the fact that he was here at all in the first place at an unholy hour just because you asked. 

Oh gods. You were in trouble. 

“It’s late.” You finally managed to break the spell that held you under. “We should go.” 

“Yeah.” Luke made no motion to move, still focused wholly on you. 

“Luke,” you whispered. 

You could have sworn his eyes moved down to your lips, but he was sitting up so quickly that you knew you must have imagined it. You cleared your throat as you followed suit, brushing the sand off your—his— jacket. 

“This was nice,” he said after a moment. “...Thanks for waking me up.” 

“Of course,” you said. “There’s… there’s no one else I would’ve wanted to share it with.” 

Luke smiled, and you didn’t think he’d ever looked more beautiful than he did now, awash in the silver moonlight. If you were braver, you would have taken his hand again. You would’ve done what the voice in your head desperately wanted to do—had wanted to do for the past two months.  

But you didn’t. 

“I guess it was worth nearly getting eaten, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, and he shrugged. “But most things are worth it when it comes to you.” 

You nearly melted right there, and it was a credit to your strength that you didn’t say anything horrifically stupid. Instead, you put on a smile, hoped he couldn’t see how much he was killing you, and started back up on the path. 

“C’mon,” you said. “Before we end up having to clean the entire camp for breaking curfew.” 

“Whatever you say,” he mused. 

-

You groaned as you slumped into your usual spot at the Hermes table. You heard Luke laugh, and you felt his eyes on you as you put your head in your arms.

“What’s got you so down?”

“I’ve been fifteen for three days and I already feel like an old woman,” you said. “Everything still hurts.”

“Capture the flag was meant to be a birthday gift,” Luke said wryly. “And we did win.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you grumbled. “I swear, some people went after me on purpose just because it was my birthday. I’ve got bruises all over.”

“You know, we have an infirmary for a reason.” 

“They’re battle wounds,” you said. You picked up your head just to take your goblet. “Lemonade. Actually, pink lemonade.” You took a sip, but even that didn’t make you feel better. You buried your head back in your arms with a rough sigh. “Signs of our victory.”

Luke huffed a laugh. “Sometimes I really don’t…”

He trailed off suddenly, and you heard a collective gasp go up at the table.

“What?” you asked halfheartedly. 

“You— you’re—” 

You didn’t know why he couldn’t finish his sentence. You picked your head up to see Luke’s face awash in golden light, his eyes wide. Everyone else at the Hermes cabin was just as awestruck, and Marisol fumbled around in her purse until she pulled out her compact. She opened her foundation, the mirror pointing at you, and you realized why.

A glowing, golden, translucent sickle with a few sheaths of wheat floated above your head. You frowned.

Before you had the chance to say anything, Luke was yelling your name and tackling you in a hug. You let out a grunt of surprise as you barely managed to brace yourself, and when he pulled away he was smiling wider than you’d ever seen.

“You’re claimed!” he exclaimed, his hands gripping your shoulders. “You— you’re finally claimed!”

“Demeter,” you said, almost absentmindedly. It still hadn’t quite hit you. 

“Demeter,” he repeated, nodding rapidly, that gigantic smile seeming like a permanent feature at this point. “I told you everyone would see you— I told you we would make them see you the way I do!”

The rest of the table was chattering away, and you could feel Chris patting you on the back and saying words that went in one ear and out the other. The rest of the pavilion was starting to catch word, and you could see a couple kids from a table on the opposite end standing up and craning to see. Maybe your new siblings. 

(You should be happy.)

Your new siblings. 

…Your new cabin.

You could still barely think, like there was static in your brain. Luke’s hands on your shoulders were the only thing grounding you. 

(You should be ecstatic.)

A year of tears, silent prayers, and apathetic resolution had finally come to a close, just days after your fifteenth. 

(Why are you not smiling?)

You’d been claimed. But you didn’t think you’d ever felt more lost. 

#also you may notice. that these include the flashbacks mentioned at the end of bleedin me dry. bc i enjoy hurting people #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #sadie writes

[stylesparker]

take my hand and I’ll take yours too

PAIRING: Steve Harrington x Bestfriend!Reader

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

WARNINGS: fem!reader, friends to lovers, so much mutual pining, more angst than fluff, MAJOR hurt/comfort, graphic character death—through nightmares (no one actually dies)

His breathing is so quiet it makes you think he’s not even breathing at all. The only tell that he’s still here is the slow rise and fall of his chest—something you only noticed once you tried to find it.

Despite being in the safety of Steve’s bed—and him by your side—your fear still keeps you up in the middle of the night. Every time you toss and turn, you’re afraid it’ll wake him up, but you think he’s definitely out like a rock. It would probably take an explosion to wake him up right now.

The two of you had a long day. So did the kids, but being the designated babysitters, you were the ones who had the right to collapse as soon as you got in the house.

After… everything, it’s been a silent agreement between you and Steve that you’d stay with him at his house for the time being. The bed sharing had not been planned, but Steve had insisted. He claimed having someone near helped him sleep better, but you knew he was doing it for you.

He’s not the one with the nightmares.

But tonight it seems, he is.

You didn’t catch it at first; you had rolled away with your back facing him, so the mumbling fell on deaf ears. It was only a matter of seconds later when you heard him sit up out of bed with a fearful gasp and sobs racking his chest. You had turned over in a heartbeat, making eye contact with Steve, and your heart immediately shattering to pieces.

You never want to see that heartbroken look on his face ever again.

“Steve..?” You ask gently. His tears haven’t stopped, the hand that’s gripping your thigh grips tighter, almost like he’s making sure you’re real.

You’re alive.

His movement is slow, but you get the hint pretty quickly. You wrap your arms around him and pull him into your chest, holding him tight against you like you’ll never let go. His own arms had wrapped around your middle, squeezing every couple of seconds. He breathes quick, his chest pounding rapidly against yours, almost making you afraid he’s gonna give himself a heart attack.

“Babe, you’re alright, it’s alright..” you whisper quietly, so not to disturb him. His tears have already stopped, but you can tell he’s still afraid. His eyes close at the feeling of your hand scratching his head.

“You’re okay,” he mumbles softly, digging his head further into your neck. It makes you want to cry.

He doesn’t deserve this.

You give him a couple of extra moments until his breathing has slowed down and he’s not in quite such a panic anymore.

“You wanna talk?” Your voice is soft, making his insides melt at the sound of it. You don’t realize how much you’ve already helped him, you just try to copy what he does for you.

He shakes his head, “I’m okay, really.”

You don’t believe him, but you don’t question him further. You just hold each other in the dark.

The room is silent until he whispers, “You weren’t sleeping were you.”

Your silence is his answer.

…

The kids thinks there’s something wrong with Steve.

Robin knows there’s something wrong with you.

Since they know Robin probably spends the most time with the two of you, they go to her. They aren’t expecting the answer Robin gives them.

“I think..” she groans, “god, I feel so bad for telling you guys this—I think Y/N is having nightmares.”

They’re faces drop open, they’re hearts shattering just a little bit.

“Wait, what?” Dustin asks sadly. He exchanges a glance with Max and Lucas.

“Shit,” Lucas says, “We thought-”

Max shoves him in the shoulder.

Dustin squints at the two of them, obviously knowing what he was going to say, but not wanting to bring it up right now. He looks back to a guilty Robin.

“Steve, too?”

She shrugs, “I’m not sure, Y/N hasn’t said anything about him, but he said hers have been pretty bad. They’ve been staying at his house for the past couple weeks.”

“It’s probably like us,” Max says, “don’t want to sleep alone anymore…”

The other two nod their heads in agreement.

“Look, when Y/N comes in for her shift I’ll ask her how they’ve been doing. I don’t think I’ll get an answer, but I’ll try. ‘Kay?”

They trudge out the door, and Robin sighs. She hopes they don’t tell you she told them.

It’s about a half hour later she hears the chime of the bell indicating a customer. When she looks, it’s you, as expected.

With a lack of better terms, you look horrible.

Your hair looks nice, as always, but you look the most sleep deprived then you ever have. She can see the dark circles under your eyes from a mile away. You give her a tight lipped smile and head to the back to drop your bag off. Robin tenses in preparation.

“Hey, cupcake, how’ve you been?”

She hasn’t seen you in almost two days. Maybe she should’ve tried calling an extra couple of times.

You slide your hands across the front of your shirt and wave, coming up next to her at the desk.

You nod unconvincingly, “Good. You?”

“Good!” She nods with a smile. It’s comforting. But you’re not stupid.

Your fake smile slips from your face and the sadness appears quickly in your eyes.

“You can ask.”

Robin’s facade also slips, and she steps closer to you, dropping a hand on one shoulder.

“I won’t,” she shakes her head, “but you need to talk to me.” You gulp. “You look like shit.”

You laugh, which brings a smile to her face. But the split second of happiness is quickly gone when you remember you have to tell her.

“It’s Steve.”

Robin thinks she already knows.

“Shit,” she huffs, “so now you’re both losing sleep.”

“I don’t know how to help him,” your eyes well with tears, and Robin holds you closer, “he’s so much better a-at helping me when I have them, I-I don’t know how I’m gonna get him through this-”

Robin turns more stern than you’ve ever seen her, “Y/N, this isn’t all on you. I love you guys, but you shitheads are stubborn as hell. You guys need to accept more help. I’ve been at Nancy’s this past week, even Eddie has stopped by and seen the kids. Those kiddos would love to have you guys around again, they’re missing you.”

You wipe your tears, and nod your head in understanding.

“I know..” you mumble. “We just don’t want to scare them.”

“I thinks it’s scaring them even more now that you’re not around.”

You sigh, taking a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“We’ll come by tonight,” you nod, “have all the kids been there?”

“All of ‘em. Jane has been prone to eating more eggos than ever.”

You chuckle at the thought of her.

Robin wants to ask if there’s a reason the two of you have holed up together apart from everyone else, but she thinks better of it. She probably knows why better than you do.

You hope maybe sleeping in the same house as everyone will help you guys a bit, ease your nerves.

“I’ll tell Steve when I get home.”

Robin catches it before you do.

Home.

…

The gravel crunches loudly under the tires of Steve’s car. You get bumped a little bit as he pulls into the Wheeler’s driveway, but it goes unnoticed, you’re a little out of it.

Steve’s been able to tell the whole ride there. His gaze had been glancing between you and the road the whole time.

“You ready?” He grabs your hand, rubbing it softly.

“Yeah,” you reassure, “just… nervous.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“What if-” you look to him anxiously.

“We just won’t sleep in the same room as them so one of us doesn’t wake them up. Nancy will understand,” he assures you, “don’t worry.”

You try not to think about it as you pull your hand out of his and swing open the door. As you walk up the pavement, you wonder if the butterflies in your stomach are from nervousness or just him.

The kids are so happy to see you, maybe more so Steve, but you can’t seem to care. Dustin practically knocks him down when he gets two feet inside the door, and Jane is quick to run over and give you a tight hug. Max follows soon after, putting her arms around the both of you in a sweet manner.

“What, have you gone soft on me, Madmax?”

You hear a quiet mumble of never, which makes you giggle and hug the two of them tighter. When they let go, Steve is huffing and puffing to shove the little twerp off of him, and Lucas is pulling at his arm to give him a turn. The other two boys are waiting to greet you patiently.

“Hey, y/n/n,” Mike says softly. Will rushes forward to give you a hug before he pulls away again, but you’re glad you got anything at all.

“Hey Mikey,” you tease, ruffling his hair much to his disappointment while you lean down and give Will a swift kiss on the forehead. “Where’s your sister?”

“In the kitchen with Jonathan. Robin and Eddie aren’t here yet.”

Dustin takes you by surprise when he collides with your backside and squeezes the shit out of you.

“Never leave us again,” he mutters. You twist around and pat him on the head like a puppy.

“We’ve never left you, kiddo,” you tell him softly. You catch Steve’s eye and he’s watching you guys with fondness. Your guys attention gets pulled when you hear loud laughter from the kitchen. Steve walks by your side as you enter the room, catching Nancy in an embrace with her boyfriend.

“Hey lovebirds,” you call. Their heads turn and they give each other a suspicious side eye.

“Hey yourselves,” Nancy says. She giggles and rushes to you. “It’s nice to see you.”

“You too, Nance,” Steve says back.

Before you get a chance to talk to Jonathan, Nancy pulls you into her living room around the corner where you’re out of sight from the others.

“I figured you guys didn’t want to stay in the basement so I got a room ready for you if you want to put your stuff in there.”

“Oh, cool, yeah, that’s fine,” you reply. “I was gonna ask you anyway, I don’t want to bother the kids while they’re sleeping.”

She arches an eyebrow.

“Oh, god- Nance!” You act like your gagging, “seriously?”

“What? You implied it.”

“I did not!”

“Okay, so then what did you mean,” she crosses her arms with a smirk on her face.

You huff, peeking around the corner to make sure no one was listening. “We’ve been… having nightmares lately.”

Her arms drop and she looks at you comfortingly.

“Babe, we have too.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, we all have. It hasn’t been easy. If you guys need anything just let me know, I know how bad they can get. Max had a pretty bad one last night.”

You sigh, “Yeah, so did Steve.”

She lets you go with a soft smile, just in time when Steve rounds the corner.

“Hey, they’re going downstairs if you wanna go,” he says it with a smile.

“Yeah! I’m right behind you.”

During the rest of the evening, you have multiple moments when you realize you haven’t laughed or had this much fun in a long while. The fun had really started when the last two remaining friends of the party had shown up, and finally everyone was in one room again, together. It took you too long to realize how fast these people had become a family to you, and maybe things would have gotten better sooner if you hadn’t pulled away. Everything just feels better, lighter, like you don’t have the weight of the world on your shoulders and aren’t watching every step you take.

It’s easy to let go when Steve has an arm around your shoulder and Robin sits back in between your legs; when Dustin is trying to shove a warm muffin down Eddie’s throat and Jane has her head laying gently in Will’s lap; when Nancy is tugging back the skirt Mike tried to steal and Lucas is making heart eyes at Max. Even when life feels so hard, it also feels like it’s the easiest thing to get through when you have so many things that can bring joy.

You could tell around 10 o’clock Jane, Will, and Robin were getting pretty tired. The others weren’t, but they knew it was probably best if everyone went down together. Eddie was already zonked out on the couch so Nancy threw a fluffy green blanket over him to keep him comfortable. Jonathan was already leading Jane and Will upstairs to get their pillows when Mike had taken notice and followed quickly behind. Everyone else either had a room upstairs or their sleeping arrangements already made on the floor.

Lucas had sadly, but also willingly, given up his chair bed for Max, which she had thanked him with a kiss on the cheek. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the kid so flustered.

“Night guys,” Dustin loudly whispers as Nancy shut the lights off.

“Night, Dustin,” you whisper back, much more quietly than he did, but you get a nice toothy grin in return. Steve ruffles his hair before he leads you to the stairs, which gets him a loud complaint and a smack on his calf. Robin squeezes your hand before going off in her own direction, and the boy attached to your side leads you to the room made for the both of you.

It wasn’t exactly a disappointment to find only one bed. For either of you.

“You can use the bathroom first,” he offers, standing with his hands in his pockets at the end of the bed.

“Thanks,” you reply softly, taking your clothes to change into in the bathroom. You try to clean up quickly, but it’s about a half hour later that you emerge and you find Steve, cleaned up, and snuggled in on the right side of the bed.

When he looks at you, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. But his hair looks freshly cleaned and it doesn’t look like he has a shirt on, so you don’t dwell on it for too long. With the darkness flooded in the room, and the only source of light coming from the bathroom and the moon, you hope he can’t tell how anxious you look.

He can, but he doesn’t mention it. He didn’t want to ruin the comfortable silence that fell upon the two of you. When you came out of the bathroom looking fresh with happiness and a towel on your head, he thought he couldn’t be looking at anything cuter. He just guilty wished the big t-shirt that adorned your torso would just ride up your thighs an inch more so he could see the softness of them.

He tears his eyes away just as you tell him, “I’m glad I don’t have to shove you off my side of the bed tonight.” You flop on your stomach somehow gently onto the bed next to him, scooting yourself up just so your head ghosts over the skin of his thighs underneath the blankets. He wishes he hadn’t gotten under the covers.

You have a shy grin adorning your features when you add, “Sorry I took so long.”

Steve waves it off, “No big deal, I got to steal Robin’s shower. She wasn’t too happy with me, though.” He feels accomplished when it makes you laugh. Your head drops onto his thighs for a moment, and he curses when you lift it far too soon.

It’s quiet again until you lift yourself off the bed to take your towel off. He takes this moment to watch you until you shut the light off and walk back over. You face him when you get under the covers, and he shifts himself so his arm is under his head and he can actually face you too.

He beams when your foot ghosts near his. He boldly reaches out to tuck your hair behind your ear, which earns him a slight blush.

“Sleep,” he murmurs.

You shake your head softly, “Not yet.”

Now that his hair looks more dry it flops when he shifts again, and gives you questioning glance. You hate that he looks so pretty.

“What do ya’ wanna talk about then?” He asks.

You shrug. You hope you don’t upset him with what you’re going to ask next.

“What was your nightmare about, Steve?”

He could tell it took you a minute to ask that question. He knows he shouldn’t lie, so he takes a deep breath.

“Us.”

“Us?”

“You.”

Your lips pout, and they look so soft, all he wants to do is rub his thumb over them.

“I scared you?”

“No, honey,” he sighs, “I was scared for you.”

Your mouth makes an ‘o’ shape and you don’t say anything else. You look like you feel bad and he wishes you didn’t.

He continues, “Do you remember.. when we were in that stolen van, and I was telling you about that dream I had?”

You nod. “The six little nuggets.”

He laughs, “Yeah.. that.”

“Do you still wish for that?”

He shrugs, “I think so. Maybe not six, but I think I want a big family.” He takes a moment to add, “I think it’s because I didn’t really have one growing up.”

Your eyes soften incredibly more than they already are and your hand rests on top of his, “I get that.”

He debates telling you the real reason he brought this up, but decides against it. It would be too much.

You can see the conflict in his eyes, and take it for what you think it is.

“You don’t have to tell me about the dream, Stevie.”

His eyes find yours again and he has to fight not to kiss you on the spot. Your voice makes his heart beat so fast he feels it might fly out of his chest into your open hands.

“We didn’t make it out,” he starts. He grabs hold of your hand for comfort. You run your hand over his to keep him going. “I don’t know... if I did, but you didn’t.”

He notices you holding your breath.

“We had just got Eddie, and we were all running, and we were all screaming at each other to keep going, we were almost there. But... I felt your hand slip out of mine and suddenly you were gone,” he clears his throat, “I could see you getting higher in the sky, like three bats had gotten you, and you were screaming my name over and over, and I couldn’t get to you. One minute I was chasing after you and the next...” he blows air out of his mouth, “You were on the ground bleeding. I had you in my arms and you weren’t moving, it didn’t even look like you were breathing. When you woke, you just stared at me, you held my hand, and you comforted me.”

You made sure the small tear that fell out of your eye was quickly wiped away before he could notice it.

“No matter how much I screamed, no matter how many times I told you not to close your eyes, your breathing stopped and your eyes went blank. You were cold in my arms, and suddenly nothing else mattered. I couldn’t move.”

Steve doesn’t realize you’re moving until your head is an inch away from his, and your warm hand was placed on his cheek.

“I’m here,” you say softly. He closes his eyes and tries to push away the memory of the dream, leaning forward that extra inch to touch his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just... stay with me.”

“Okay.”

...

“Steve? Steve!” Your breathing is harsh, you can’t see, and none of the others are around. The others had separated from the two of you; gone on their bikes and rode away to find the gate. It didn’t matter this felt unfamiliar, this was real, it had to be.

Each step you took made a creak on the stairs, causing you to cringe and stop every time, afraid something would dart out of the shadows and take you away before you could locate Steve. You called his name one more time, but again, there was no answer.

Sweat beaded against your brow, and you held your knife closer to your chest. You didn’t risk taking your jacket off to try and lead off some heat, you knew your eyes had to stay sharp. The walls were still covered in the vines you remembered, or whatever they were. They moved and made weird noises that had you catching your breath and looking into the other room.

The floorboards beneath your feet creaked again, but this time, you heard a scream. A loud, painful scream that vibrated through your body, from your head to your toes, and had you perking up, on edge.

That was Steve.

You were running up the rest of the stairs in an instant, almost tripping over your own feet to get to him.

“STEVE! STEVE! I’m here! I’M HERE!” You almost wish you hadn’t turned the corner at the top of the steps.

There, hanging in mid air, was Steve. You didn’t know where Vecna was, but there you could see your boy with his head upturned toward the ceiling, no movements being made.

“Shit, shit, shit, oh my god-” you fumbled around with your jacket to find the tape for him, but it wasn’t in the pocket you left it in. What were you gonna do if you didn’t have his music?

“Steve, baby, hear me. Listen to my voice. Steve!” You couldn’t even reach his feet, he was just too high for you to grab a foot to try and pull him down. When you thought, maybe, just maybe something was working, your greatest horror played out in front of you.

You could barely look as his bones started cracking, the sound filling your ears and making you remember what it felt like to lose the man you loved. He fell to the ground in an instant, making no signs of life.

You dropped to your knees in next to him, not having the ability to stop the uncontrollable sobs that leave your chest in the moments after.

You can see him, there, in the corner of your vision, lingering, waiting.

For you.

“GO! Leave!” You scream at the top your lungs, falling on top of Steve’s body.

“Y/N.” He says. You can’t hear him, you won’t.

“Y/N!” This can’t be it.

“Y/N!” You’re gasping and clawing at anything around you, your tears clouding anything you might be able to see.

“Steve! STEVE!”

You feel arms holding you so tight around your middle, trying to wrangle your arms in the process.

You can’t really tell what you’re doing, you just feel wet tears streaming down your face and a huge pressure on your chest.

“Baby, breath. You need to breath. C’mon.”

That’s... Steve?

Your hands go to your head, trying to cover your ears, but whoever has you won’t have it. You’re trying to get out of their hold, but you don’t really know why. It’s so hard to grasp at anything.

“Y/N, listen to me. It’s me, baby, it’s Steve.”

You take a shuttering breath, and suddenly, you’re no longer in the attic of that house. You’re in a bed, and there’s legs in front of you that aren’t yours. You lean your head back and it hits a chest, you don’t really feel yourself moving anymore.

“That’s it, c’mon, come back to me. You’re okay.”

The voice is so soothing. It’s gentle, it’s comforting, and it’s definitely Steve.

“Steve?” Your voice sounds so broken, so tired, it makes his tears fall faster. The sound of your screaming had woken him up, his fight or flight immediately sending him into over drive. The fear that had flooded through him when he thought something was happening to you, he didn’t know what to think when all of a sudden you started hitting him.

You weren’t awake yet.

You scratched, and you hit, and you clawed at his arms, but he was stronger than you and was able to pin them to your sides. He was able to get you into his lap and hold you tight against his chest, hoping the feeling of his skin and the pressure he was putting on your chest would calm you down. It took a minute but he realized you were finally starting to get a grip when your hands had landed softly on his thighs. The Steve that had left your lips made him hug you tighter. He didn’t dare let go until he knew you weren’t gonna hurt yourself anymore.

The rocking helped, you sort of felt like a baby, but god did it help. You could open your eyes and see your surroundings. Your breathing had finally slowed, and most of the panic was gone.

“Shhh, you’re okay, you’re okay, just breathe.”

You held his hands, holding onto them like they were a lifeline. You whimpered when he let go to wipe your tears, and you quickly turned in his hold to look at his face.

Steve knew it was bad but your eyes, they were so red, you looked so wrecked, he knew this one had to have been the worst one you’ve ever had. When you took notice of the marks on his arms, you started crying again.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

“It’s alright, it’s alright, you didn’t hurt me, I’m okay.” He grabbed your face and started kissing it all over, blocking you from seeing what you had done and hopefully distracting you in the process. When you tried to pull away he didn’t let you, only tugged on you until you fell into him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. One hand cradled the back of your head while the other rubbed up and down soothingly on your back; your whimpers had died down to only a few.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” you repeated it so many times he didn’t know if it would stop.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Just listen to my voice, baby.”

You slowly started to feel better; you didn’t know how long it had been, but it had to have been awhile before you lifted your head to look at the boy in front of you. You hated how worried he looked.

He must know. He had to.

You told him anyway.

“You died.” He nodded his head and wiped your tears.

“I’m fine.”

“You can’t die, Steve,” You begged firmly. “I wouldn’t survive.”

Maybe it was you, maybe it was him, but both of you knew you needed it and neither one of you was gonna stop it.

The kiss was brutal, all teeth and desperation. There was a fire burning in your chest and now Steve was burning with you. You clung to each other as if some magnetic force was going to try and pull you away from each other. You knew nothing would separate you from him right now, not this instant. He pulled away first, and calmed you down when you tried to chase the trace of his lips.

“Nothing could ever take me away from you, my love,” he whispers.

“Then kiss me like we’re never going to be apart again,” your whisper back is desperate, and he knows it.

You don’t have to tell him again.

#ooH BOY #I’m coming back to this when I need hurt/comfort #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve stranger things #steve harrington angst #stranger things fanfiction

[pennylanefics]

Skate Day Gone Wrong - Matthew Tkachuk

a/n: this was a cute little idea i had a while ago when i first started getting hockey content on tiktok :) it took me longer than i expected with everything going on, but i think it turned out cute!

warnings: mentions of hospitals, beginning of a panic attack (briefly mentioned, not too descriptive)

summary: matt begs you to go skating with him but it takes a turn for the worst when you end up falling down on the ice

word count: ~4.6k

“Come on, it’ll be so much fun!” Matthew begs you, grabbing your hands and squeezing them gently. A sigh passes your lips and your eyes fall to your entwined hands, a small grin stretching on your face as you realize he’s been rubbing his thumb back and forth against the back of your hand.

“You know I’m not as graceful, baby. It’ll be a disaster.” He pulls the puppy-dog eyes as soon as you finish your sentence. But it wasn’t going to get by you this time.

Matt was trying to get you to go skating with him at the local ice rink. He wanted, and he deserved, a break from hockey, but he couldn’t stay away from the ice and exercise in some capacity. But since the start of your relationship, you were very clear with him that you were like a newborn deer in ice skates.

“It’ll be a nice little date! I’ll hold onto you the entire time, you never have to let go of my hand, I won’t let you fall, I promise. You have my word,” he holds out his pinky to seal his words. You sigh once more, finally looking up into bright blue eyes, filled with hope and excitement. That alone was enough for you to change your mind.

“Okay,” you finally agree, and within a second, Matt celebrates by tackling you in a hug, your laughter mixing together to fill the otherwise silent bedroom of his.

“Yay!! This is going to be so much fun, I have been wanting to get you on the ice with me for the longest time,” he admits, pressing kisses all over your face, eliciting more giggles from you. 

“I know you have, but I went once when I was younger and couldn’t find my balance, I ended up falling pretty hard. My cousins made fun of me for it and everything, so it’s something I avoided.” Matt coos softly and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear so tenderly.

“Well, I won’t do that, and like I said, I won’t even let you fall. Not gonna happen on my watch, darling.” He kisses you a couple times, his hand remaining on your cheek, sending warmth through your body. 

“I fucking hope. Otherwise you’ll be taking care of me the entire time.” He chuckles quietly and crawls into bed with you, wraping his arms around you instantly, and you instinctively curl into his soft, warm chest.

“Not sure how I’ll be able to with the upcoming road trip we have,” he replies.

“Then you better keep that promise of yours, Chucky.”

The following day, Matthew was up bright and early, preparing breakfast for the both of you and getting everything he needed ready to head to the rink. He planned on just taking his skates and wearing a simple pair of jeans and a black sweatshirt, no gear or anything was needed, really; he wasn’t needing to do any drills or practice anything anyways.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he greets you with a kiss on your forehead and then your cheek. Groaning, you shield your eyes from the blinding sun slicing through the curtains. Matt always loved this time of day, being a morning person, he was able to admire your beauty as you slept, like an angel in his eyes, glowing in the golden, natural light.

“Too early,” you grumble, causing him to laugh softly. To add to the dramatics, you grab the comforter and pull it up over your head, not wanting to leave the comfort and warmth of his bed just yet. One of your favorite places was being in his bed, enveloped in the smell of him, from both his cologne and his body wash. 

“Hey, you agreed to this, we go early and then grab some lunch at your favorite restaurant,” he reminds you, removing the cover from your head. You squint your eyes and stare up at him, finding a sly grin on his face. “Come on, I made your favorite.”

After five more minutes of Matthew playing with your hair and trying to coax you out of bed, you finally get up and head downstairs, where he had everything plated and prepared for you. He made chocolate chip pancakes with turkey bacon, fresh fruit, and scrambled eggs with cheese. You were so glad that Matt loved to cook, otherwise you’d just be having a simple granola bar instead of a nice, cooked meal.

“Alright, I have everything packed and ready to go, so if you want to go get dressed while I put everything away and wash the dishes,” Matt says, taking your empty plate and setting it in the sink with his.

Once you were dressed in a sweater and jeans, all your usual jewelry on, and perfume sprayed a few times, you join your boyfriend in the living room, where he sat scrolling through his phone. Hearing your footsteps, his head pops up and a huge smile spreads across his lips as he jumps to stand.

“Ready?” His hand reaches for yours and you follow him out to his car. While you were getting dressed, he took time to put his duffle bag in the backseat, so you could just get up and go when you were done.

The drive consisted of soft music from your shared playlist, and Matt’s hand in yours, gently stroking the back of it like he did this morning, and like he always does when you two hold hands. It was a rather gloomy February day in Florida, and despite others hating it, you loved it; cloudy weather was so comforting, when it didn’t mean tornadoes and severe weather.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too crowded at the rink, considering it was a weekday at ten in the morning, it was the perfect slot to spend time with Matt and also not make a fool of yourself completely if you were to have an accident.

Once your skates were rented, Matt helped you lace them up, talking you through it all since he could tell your nerves were starting to kick in.

“They have to be laced pretty tight, and figure skating ones are different from mine, but they kinda work the same. So…” his voice tapers off as he finishes tying them, “that should be good. Do they feel alright? Not too tight to the point where you can’t feel your shin?”

His hands take ahold of yours as he helps you stand and walk along the padded area to get a feel for them. He already had such a wide smile on his face because he was so happy that you were finally going to share the space he loved being at the most, aside from being with you, of course.

“Yeah, I think they’re good,” you let him know, heading back over to the bench you were sat on. He finishes tying his own skates, something he has mastered to do quickly at this point in his life, and before you know it, he is walking you over to the entrance to the ice.

Immediately, you freeze, but Matt steps onto the ice like it’s no issue.

“Remember what I promised you, baby?” He raises his eyebrows in concern. Fear was very evident in your eyes, and as much as he wanted you to skate at least one time around with him, he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries or push you too far. “Hey…it’s gonna be okay. Why don’t you sit down for a little while more?” 

He guides you to a nearby bench and stands behind you, giving your shoulders a small, comforting massage. Leaning down, he kisses your cheek swiftly and then comes around to sit beside you.

“We can sit here for as long as you want until you are ready, if you are,” he reassures you. “We don’t even have to do this today. You coming with me has been enough.”

His sweet sounding voice calms your anxiety almost instantly, something you noticed over the months as your relationship progressed. He always knew the right thing to say, as well as the tone to use in moments where you needed it most.

After a few more minutes of sitting there staring at the ice, you inhale and exhale deeply, turning your head to Matt, who raises his eyebrows in curiosity, his bright eyes filled with concern and worry.

“I’m ready,” you grin, trying to convince him that you’ll be okay. “I just have to do it scared.”

He sighs and shakes his head, reaching for your hands to squeeze them comfortingly.

“Honey, don’t say that. We really don’t have to do this, I can see how scared it’s making you.”

“No, let’s go. I really am ready.” He pauses for a moment just to make sure you are serious, and when you try to stand, he follows you and brings you back over to the entrance of the rink.

He steps onto the ice and holds his hands out for you, his own heart racing with anxiety. He was a pro, but he didn’t know if he’d be the best at assisting, even though he made numerous promises.

“It’ll be okay, honey. Just grab my hand and I’ll keep you balanced.”

With a small step onto the ledge, you step with your other foot onto the ice, your heart pounding in your chest and your body cold from fear.

“It’s alright, darling. That’s it. Now, you want to kick off with one foot and lead with the other. Can you try that?”

Taking his advice, you move as if you’re trying to walk like normal, but obviously that doesn’t work out too well. But he was calm and patient with you.

“No, not quite. Here, hold onto the wall for a moment and I’ll show you.”

Clutching onto the wall like your life depended on it, he takes a moment to skate in front of you very effortlessly, not at all surprising considering skating is like second nature to him.

He comes back around and smiles widely, stopping just a few feet in front of you. You stare at him blankly, as if to say “are you fucking serious?”

“Come on, try it,” he pushes, reaching back out for your hands to coax you from the wall. Bracing yourself, you gently nudge yourself from the wall and follow him, attempting to copy his movements.

“There you go! You so got this,” he beams with pride.

Still, you stumble here and there but his strong grip keeps you standing. Before you know it, you realize that you made an entire lap around the rink. Just to be safe, Matt steps off the ice and wrap you up in a celebratory hug

“You did it! I’m so proud of you, baby!” He plants soft kisses all over your face, eliciting a giggle from you.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s because you were basically pulling me.”

“It was all you, believe me. I was there for guidance only. Wanna go around again?” This time, you nod eagerly and put one foot back on the ice, allowing him to get his footing first before you place your other down.

Just like before, although you were starting to get the hang of it, you stride along as gracefully as you can, following behind your lover, who easily skates backwards, keeping his eyes on you the entire time.

“And you said you were like a newborn deer. You are far from it,” he jokes, speeding up just a little bit. Laughing, you squeeze his hands to silently let him know to slow down some, which he understands and pauses for a moment, slowing you to crash into his chest.

He wraps his arms tightly around you to keep you upright, pressing a single, sweet kiss to your lips, keeping his forehead on yours after.

“I love you,” he whispers, his eyes filled with love and adoration. “And I’m very glad you decided to do this today. I’ve had so much fun and it’s been so nice being able to do this together.”

“I’ve had a lot of fun as well. It’s not as bad as I remember it.”

“Because you’re here with me,” he winks slyly, giggling when you hit him in the shoulder playfully

“You might be right, baby.”

There’s a pause as you both just stand there, holding each other and enjoying the other’s presence. A few people populated the ice, but they stayed near the middle, chatting and taking their time practicing some figure skating tricks. You and Matt were pretty much alone, it felt like in this moment.

“Wanna try skating on your own, hm?” He asks in a hushed voice. “I’ll still be right there with you, just not holding you.”

Thinking over it for a moment, he waits for your answer, and is very surprised when you nod in agreement, his eyes widening in shock and curiosity.

“Wait really??” He had to double check to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

Soon, you were standing in front of him, your legs even with your shoulders, hands still in Matt’s for now.

“Okay, remember, push off and keep your skates close to the ice. Let me know when to let go and I will.”

Taking a deep breath, you look down at the ice beneath your feet and focus hard. He starts staking backwards, building up some speed and momentum for you, whenever you were ready.

“Okay, I think I’m good,” you tell him, slowly releasing the tight grip you have on his hands.

“Nice job, baby! Move that left foot a little smoother!” You try to do as he says, but the farther he gets from you, the more worried you grow. He was still within reach, but only if he happened to slow down.

Suddenly, you feel your balance start to wobble, and your knees shake ever so slightly. You could feel yourself losing your balance as your momentum eases.

“Matt,” you call out, your voice shaking just like your legs.

“You’re doing good, don’t think about it too hard.” He was no help, seeming so far away, too far for your comfort.

But it was too late.

Your foot catches beneath you and slips, and within seconds, you were falling to the ground. Matt’s voice filled your ringing ears, but you couldn’t make out a word he said. All you felt was pain.

“Hey, hey! Look at me,” he cradles your cheek, moving you as gently as ever to sit up from where you fell on your arm.

Wincing, you attempt to scoot a little, but with your right hand cradling your arm against your chest, that proved to be difficult.

“I can’t move my arm,” you tell him, tears beginning to spill over your eyes and down your cheeks. Matt grew more and more concerned as time went by, not knowing how serious of a situation this was just yet.

“Did you land on it? Where does it hurt the most?” Bringing your wrist in front of you, you show him and lightly touch the area, but even that’s too much of a sensation.

“No, no, it hurts so bad,” you cry into his chest. His eyes were wide with fear and pain of his own, knowing that the person he loves the most is hurt, and because of him? That makes it so much worse.

While you continue to cry into his shoulder, Matt waves over the person watching over the rink, making sure that if someone did get hurt they’d be assisted to as soon as possible. And not even a few seconds after Matt signals this, a medic is rushing over, ready to help in any way he can.

“Come on, we’re gonna stand up, alright?” Matt whispers in your ear, trying to remain as calm as he can. He holds your right arm tightly, the medic helping by holding your skates to secure your balance.

It took a bit, but they finally get you standing up, but Matt being Matt, decided to carry you off the ice, even though it was a short length; he wasn’t taking any more risks.

He sits you down on the closest bench and the medic comes over to assess your injury. Matt held your right hand the entire time as a way to comfort you, kissing the back of it every now and then.

“Take deep breaths, baby girl. That’s it,” he whispers, taking some of his own to help ground you and soothe your anxiety.

“You should head to the hospital. It appears to be broken, but I can’t confirm that without an x-ray. You can’t move it, it’s tender to the touch, something is definitely wrong.”

Your heart sinks to your stomach and your eyes drift to Matt. He nods in agreement, lips tightly pressed together, seemingly attempting to keep himself from crying. He thanks the medic, who gathers his things before heading off.

“Let’s go,” he mumbles, beginning to take your skates off for you, and then following with removing his own. He doesn’t say much the entire time, mainly because he doesn’t know what to say. This was his fault, you got hurt on his watch, and he was beating himself up over it silently, but you had an idea of what was going through his mind.

Matt helps you to the car but before he gets into the driver’s seat after shutting your door, he crouches down and takes a few deep breaths, feeling his anxiety rising and the start of an attack; thankfully, it goes away and a minute later, he hops in the driver’s seat and drives off in the direction of the nearest hospital.

A few hours spent there, in the very quiet emergency room that smelled so strongly of cleaning products, it was confirmed that you broke a bone on the outer part of your wrist, as well as a small bone in your thumb joint.

Four hours later, the two of you are walking into Matthew’s home, a light blue cast on your wrist, exhausted and desperately wanting pain medication. Matt drops his duffle bag with his skates on the ground, no intention of putting it away anytime soon.

Not many words are spoken between the two of you, and Matt heads to the bathroom to get you some ibuprofen and water. He returns and finds you curled up on the couch, scrolling through to try and find a movie or show to watch. 

He kisses your forehead and also gets an ice pack for you from the freezer, and once he situates it on your cast, he heads upstairs to his bathroom, taking his time to shower and get dressed in comfy clothes. Realizing you had yet to eat anything but a small bag of chips, he quickly orders your favorite takeout from his phone to be delivered within the next twenty minutes.

Matt felt awful. He didn’t want to go downstairs and face you, this was his fault. He wasn’t able to keep you safe and unharmed, and he was terrified of what you were going to say to him now that you are in the comfort of his home.

But, he knew he had to face the issue and go down there to hold you in his arms, to care for you now that you’ve gotten hurt.

He takes a torn, old shirt of his and a pair of sweats before heading back downstairs. There, he finds you half asleep, watching an episode of Catfish, though he could tell you were barely paying attention.

“How are you feeling?” He finally speaks, coming to sit next to you. Your head lifts up and you smile at him.

“The medicine kicked in a little bit ago so it’s not terrible. I’m just tired.” A sigh passes his lips and he so desperately wants to reach for your hand, but he doesn’t.

“I know, baby. We’re gonna take the rest of the night slow. I ordered some food so you’ll be able to eat. I can help you shower if you want to, all we have to do is wrap a plastic bag around your hand. I’ll take care of everything.”

His voice held so much hurt and regret. Sighing yourself, you grab his hand with your right hand and squeeze it softly, letting him know you are fine.

“Matt, it’ll be okay. I know you’re beating yourself up over this, but I need you to understand that it’s not your fault.”

“It is. I forced you onto the ice when you didn’t want to go.”

“I distinctly remember agreeing to go because I wanted to do that with you, Matthew. I wanted to skate with you, I wanted to try it on my own, and it’s not like you shoved me to the ground or tripped me. I was my clumsy self and lost my footing.”

“But I should have listened to you when you told me you weren’t that good on the ice.”

“I was until I wasn’t. And that’s not your fault.” Matt’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion, but you brush it off. “Overall, I’m not upset with you, I don’t regret going, and I sure as hell won’t hold this against you. Accidents happen, baby, and that’s okay.”

Matt listens to your words and finally nods. He brings your entwined hands up to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to your own.

“I love you,” he whispers, staring down into your eyes. “I love you so much, you have no idea.” Chuckling softly, you lean over and kiss him, finally feeling able to get up and move around a bit.

“I love you too, honey. Always will.”

After devouring the takeout food Matt ordered and icing your cast once more, Matt brings you upstairs, two plastic bags and a couple hair ties in his hands. With ease, he wraps your cast in the bags, securing it with the hair ties. He was tender and sweet as he helped you shower, planting kisses on your cheek or your bare shoulder every now and then, taking matters into his own hands and washing your hair and body for you.

Drying off and making sure you were comfortable in the clothes he picked out, you both head back to the couch and curl up, Matt getting another ice pack for you as the pain meds start to wear off a little. He kept them nearby on the coffee table just in case.

You had picked out a movie to watch just as rain had started falling on the house, a calming sound to ease your mind. Matt had you tucked into his left side, your cast-ridden hand laying on his stomach. The moment you took the ice pack off, Matt brings your hand up to his face and starts kissing your exposed fingers, one by one  on the knuckle.

He then gently rubs his thumb over the cast, his eyes filled with a somber look as he assesses the damage he still feels like he caused. You could tell that’s where his mind was going, so you pull your hand away and reach up to turn his face towards you.

“Hey, stop that,” you whisper, kissing his jaw.

“I feel terrible,” he whispers, his voice cracking as he tries to keep the tears in. You move to sit up and fully cradle his face in your hands.

“Listen to me, baby. I will be okay. A broken wrist will heal, I don’t need surgery to reconstruct anything, just this for six weeks and then a brace. I don’t need physical therapy to learn how to use it again, it will be alright. Things happen. I really don’t want you taking all the blame and the guilt for this when it’s not your fault. Yeah, you got me out on the ice, but it was me who slipped and it was me who tried to catch myself.”

“It wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t let you go,” he mutters, and you realize that there’s no way of getting through to him. So, you roll your eyes and lay back against his chest.

“Okay, Matthew,” you grumble, not really in the mood to fight or argue if he wasn’t going to listen. This seemed to strike Matt in a way that filled him with regret, because then he was sighing and shaking his head. 

“You’re right,” he whispers. “I’m…I feel terrible about it, but you are right. It wasn’t all on me, I tried my best to help you, but accidents do happen, and I understand that. It was my idea and that’s why it’s affecting me so bad.”

A few stray tears fall down his cheeks but you are quick to wipe them away.

“I understand, honey. But you wanted to share something you love with me, and I wanted to share it with you as well. If it wasn’t you, and it was my friends trying to get me to go, I would have refused. But I know how important hockey is to you and being on the ice in general. I wanted to try this with you. Remember what I said earlier?”

He nods, recalling back to how you reassured him everything was okay between the two of you, and you had no hard feelings for him regarding this.

“I meant every word before, and I still do. I’ll survive, it’s just a little bump in the road.”

Your second talk of the day seemed to have calmed him down much more, and you were thankful for that. So, you settle back down in his arms, his left hand rubbing up and down your back.

“Can I be the first one to sign your cast?” He asks after a little while of comfortable silence, watching the movie. You giggle and look up at him, wondering if he was being serious or not.

“Go get a sharpie,” you move away from him. Within a minute, he returns from his office with a sharpie he uses to sign memorabilia that the team and other companies send him, plopping down beside you. He carefully holds your cast in his hand and searches around for the perfect spot. He ends up writing right below your knuckles, and horizontal on the section on your forearm.

The forearm spot read “i love you - matty” with a little heart beside it, and the spot underneath your knuckles read “i’m sorry :(”. You laugh at his enthusiastic mood before he hands you the sharpie. You draw some random shapes along it in random spots, just to fill it in a little.

“You know everyone on the team is gonna want to sign it,” Matt says, pulling you back into his chest.

“I’m not sure there’s enough room,” you say, examining the amount of space of the medium-sized cast; it covered your fingers all the way up to the second set of knuckles, and ended ¾ of the way to your elbow. Your thumb was separated to keep it structured as well, but it was quiet comfortable. And an easy way for Matt to hold your hand.

“You could always break another bone to give them more room,” he jokes. And this time, it wasn’t a self-deprecating joke about how he was responsible for the break, you could tell just by the tone of his voice, it was light and airy, hinting at the fact he was trying to lighten the mood.

“Maybe I’ll break my leg skiing, then they’ll have a field day.” Matt can’t contain his laughter, his head thrown back and eyes fluttering shut.

“Oh, please don’t let that happen. One cast is enough for now, baby girl.”

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagines #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #hockey #hockey fanfic #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

[onceuponastory]

first footing - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Bucky thought he was going to spend New Year's alone, just how he likes it... until Y/N showed up. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: A few mentions of alcohol and being drunk. There's also some light mentions of Bucky's past as TWS. But as always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: Happy New Year my lovelies! In Scotland (where I'm from if you didn't already know) we have a tradition called first footing, where the first person to enter your house in the New Year brings luck with them (and usually alcohol, hahaha). I realised I wanted to write something with Bucky and this tradition (because lord knows he needs the luck) so here we are! Consider this fic me first footing you all ❤️

Also, incase you're wondering, a dram is a small measure of whisky. Not beta'd (I wrote this quickly bc the idea hit me like an hour ago), so any mistakes are my own.

“Happy New Year!” The TV host announces, cheering with the crowd behind her, and Bucky rolls his eyes, switching it off. He hates this time of year. He knows that the old him, the Sergeant, would be out there wooing girls, with a promise to kiss each of them as soon as the clock struck twelve. He misses those days. Back when the worst thing he had to worry about was looking good for his dates, and not… everything that’s happened to him in the last seventy years. And although New Year’s exemplifies change and bettering yourself, Bucky still hates it. Sure, everyone can make a change. He’s living proof of that.

But New Year’s is just so… loud now, and there’s so much pressure to better yourself, to change something about yourself. It symbolises everything he hates. God, he really is an old man.

Or maybe he hates it because he’s spending it alone, like usual. Or that despite the amount of personal growth he’s done over the year, each new year always seems to be a horrible reminder of everything he once was, and everything he’s lost.  

Now that’s not to say Bucky hasn’t been invited to things tonight. He’d just… rather do everything but. All he wants is to go to bed and pretend tonight never happened, like the old man he is.

Suddenly, a knock on the door cuts through the air, causing Bucky to frown. He’s not expecting someone tonight. He can tell who it’ll probably be though - Steve or Sam, telling him to stop being boring and to get over to Tony’s party with the others. The knock sounds again, the person clearly impatient. “Alright, alright!” Bucky groans, making his way to the door and opening it. “Steve, I told you I’m not- Y/N?”

“Took you long enough.” She teases. Bucky’s mouth drops open, and his mind goes blank. He’s speechless. All he can do is look at her. The snow caught in her hair seems to sparkle in the light, and the way she looks at him, her trademark bright smile on her face, makes his heartbeat increase and his stomach flutter. 

God, she’s so beautiful.

“Happy New Year, Buck.” She smiles, holding up a bottle of whisky. 

“What…what are you doing here?” Bucky gasps in confusion, yet he still can’t stop a relieved smile from gracing his lips. He doesn’t have to spend his New Year alone with his thoughts. This time, he gets to spend it with his favourite person. But another thought, one that makes his heart skip a beat, hits him. Y/N chose him. Out of all the options she had, including a fancy Stark party with the others, who are most definitely more fun than he is… she still chose to spend time with him. And that makes Bucky Barnes feel like the most important person in the world.

“Well, I was going to first foot you.…” She chuckles. “But I can’t do that if you don’t let me in.” Still frowning, Bucky steps aside and helps Y/N take her coat off. 

“You’re going to what?” Y/N laughs, another burst of laughter that Bucky swears is improving his mood by the second.

“First footing. It’s a tradition where the first person to enter your house after the clock strikes twelve brings good luck with them.” She grins. “So…here I am.” 

“Y/N, you don’t have to be here. I know spending tonight with an old man like me isn’t very fun. Go party.”

“No way!” Y/N shakes her head, heading to his kitchen. “There’s no place I’d rather be than here, with my favourite person.” She calls. Bucky’s heart almost goes into overdrive.

“Thank you.” He smiles, watching her go. “It means a lot.” More than she’ll ever know.

~ * ~

“Here we go.” Y/N grins, passing Bucky his dram of whisky. “Cheers Bucky.” 

“Cheers, doll.” He chuckles, clinking his glass against hers. Together, they down their drink. Despite the minimal amount of alcohol, and the fact the serum means he can’t get drunk, Bucky still feels the familiar warm feeling pooling in his gut, and the heat spreading across his cheeks. And especially how all he wants to do is smile.

But that could just be the beautiful woman sitting opposite him, the candlelight casting a soft glow over her features. The one who chose him over everyone else. The one he’s so deeply and irrevocably in love with. He swears he could just kiss her right there and then. He just can’t bring himself to do it, or even tell her how he feels. Despite how much he loves Y/N, Bucky swears that the pain of losing her and her friendship would be enough to finish him off right there and then. So, he stays quiet and lets the pain of not telling her, and the thought she could be with someone else eat him up inside.

“Any other traditions for me tonight?” Bucky raises a brow. 

“Other than finishing this whiskey? Nope.” Y/N chuckles as Bucky pours them both some more.

“Thanks again for tonight, Y/N.” Bucky smiles. “I mean, I wasn’t going to spend it alone. I wanted to go to the party, but-” He lies, trying desperately not to sound so lonely and pathetic. But a gentle, reassuring touch on his forearm stops him. Despite the gentleness of her touch, Bucky’s skin burns under it.

“It’s alright.” Y/N smiles. “I know.” What did he ever do to deserve someone like Y/N in his life? Perhaps he was a saint in a previous life. But even that wouldn’t be enough, make him anywhere close to worthy of having Y/N as a best friend. She looks at him intently, staring into his eyes. Bucky feels the heat on his cheeks deepening. “You know….” She chuckles.

“Mhm?”

“I know you think resolutions suck, but I have one this year. And there’s no better time than half twelve in the morning on January 1st to do it, huh?”  

“I don’t think they suck, they’re just not my thing.” Bucky corrects her, but he can’t stop his brow from quirking up. “What’s your resolution?” Y/N leans in, so close Bucky can feel her breath against his skin. It’s enough to drive him crazy.

“To not let anything pass me by, to take each opportunity as it comes.” She grins.

“That’s a good resolution.” Bucky nods, regretting his words almost immediately. Why the hell would he say that, of all things?

“So. Here it goes.” Y/N takes a breath. “This may be the whisky talking, but… I refuse to go another year without telling you this. I am in love with you, Bucky Barnes.” Bucky almost keels over. He almost asks her to repeat what she just said, or even to pinch him. But then she continues. “I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way… well, it would hurt a lot, but I just have to tell you because I couldn’t bear another day without you knowing.”

Bucky chuckles, cupping her chin. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that for so long.” He smiles, and Y/N’s grin grows just as wide. “You know….” He whispers. “There’s another New Year’s tradition I can think of.” Leaning in, he softly presses his lips to hers.

Something tells him this year is going to be pretty damn incredible.

~ * ~

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky fanfiction #marvel oneshot #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel cinematic universe #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

[mrwavellswaps]

The Principal’s Solution

When Mr Everett was called into the principal’s office to have a one on one meeting, this was the last thing he’d been expecting. “You’re firing me!?”

“David that’s not what I’m—” Principal Bryant was cut off before he could finish.

“What is it? Budget cuts? Because I sure as hell know I haven’t done anything to warrant this? I’ve worked for this school for years! I’ve never even had so much as a sick day!” David rambled on justifiably. After all he couldn’t see a single reason why they wouldn’t want him working as an English teacher here anymore.

Finally however, the Principal put an end to David’s ranting. “Mr Everett! Listen to me! You are not fired! If you had let me finish I was going to say that you’ll be relieved of your current position so that you may take a new one.”

David was a little confused upon hearing this. “What… like a promotion?” He asked, prompting him to wonder if Mrs Freeman, the current head of the English department, had finally decided to retire after spending an eternity here.

“Sort of. Though it’s probably not what you’re imagining right now.” Principal Bryant sighed. “Look. As you know we’ve been low on gym teachers at the school for a while now and with Mr Riggs leaving at the end of next week we’ll be done to only one proper gym teacher. That’s why I’ve decided to move you from the English department over to the Gym department.”

“W-what??” This hadn’t been what David was expecting at all. Moving from English to teach Gym instead? “But sir I’m not a Gym teacher. I teach English! I can’t just switch!”

“Oh come on, of course you can. The English department has plenty of teachers and trainee’s already. I’m sure it’ll do just fine without you.”

David squinted over at Principal Bryant, not believing that his superior couldn’t see the very clear issue with this suggestion. “What?! No, I mean that I have absolutely no idea how to teach a gym class! Hell, I haven't picked up a ball since I was a student. How the hell do you expect me to teach a whole class??” He complained and rightly so. From his point of view this decision seemed completely illogical. “Surely there’s someone else far better suited for this!”

Principal Bryant simply smiled across his desk with a strange glint in his eye that David couldn’t decipher. “Don’t worry Mr Everett. I already have a plan that’ll help you get perfectly settled in with your new position. Soon it’ll be like you never taught English at all.” He chuckled, confusing David en further yet also slightly peaking his interest. “As for the reason I chose you specifically… well you’ve already said it yourself. You’ve never once taken a sick day and you’re always on schedule, if not ahead of it. That’s the kind of dedication I’m looking for in the Gym department.”

Before David had the chance to question his boss any further, Principal Bryant jumped up from his desk with a look on his face that was hard to describe. He seemed excited as whipped open one of the desk draws and pulled out a laptop. The Principal flipped the laptop open and began tapping away, occasionally glancing up at David with an almost lustful smirk. It was a look David had grown all too familiar with over the years. He’d suspected for a long time now that Principal Bryant had a thing for him but he’d never spoken up about it in case he had the wrong impression. But the look he’d received just now, the glint of desire in his boss’ eyes as he glanced up at him, was unmistakable.

“Sir I-” David was cut off before he could speak.

“Ah here it is!” Bryant exclaimed before quickly spinning the laptop so that it faced the couch David was sitting on. “Now Mr Everett. I know you might have some doubts and concerns about this change but this training video I’ve put together should be more than enough to ease your worries. Now if you just sit back and relax for me, we can get started!” He said with a reassuring yet somewhat devious smile.

Once again David hardly had any time to protest before his boss clicked play on the video before moving out of the way. What he was greeted with was a purple and gold hypnotic spiral spinning at a swift pace. Going round and round in fashion so captivating that David couldn’t bring himself to look away. The spiral was just so alluring, so gorgeous to look at that the rest of the world around him just seemed to fall away. He didn’t even take notice of the Principal sitting back at his desk to watch what was about to unfold firsthand.

After about 3 minutes or so a voice began speaking to David through the video…

*Welcome to your one way trip from being a regular ol’ English teacher to becoming a strong and confident Gym teacher that your students and colleagues alike can look up to! My name is Mr Wavell and I’ll be guiding you through this experience.*

The masculine voice spoke with a warm soothing tone which helped to relax David even further, readying his body and mind for what was to come.

*Now let’s get started shall we David? Of course, being an English teacher, you should already know that having the right education and qualifications for the job is essential for becoming a teacher in any area. So let’s get that sorted shall we?*

David didn’t even flinch at how this video seemed to be addressing him directly. He simply continued to focus on the voice as the spiral continued to swirl in a 3D like manner. As if it were reaching out to him and pushing inside his brain.

*Of course we’ve gotta make some room for all these new memories and experiences so…*

It would’ve been impossible to describe what exactly he was feeling right now. It was like something reaching deep into his mind and sifting through his memories until it found what it was looking for. David’s mouth hung open a little as any memories he had of learning English at an advanced level past high school and training to become and English teacher were yanked right out of his head, setting his knowledge of the subject back to a much more basic level.

*Annnnd now to replace them with the proper ones.*

One cue David could feel his mind being stuffed with new memories. Ones where he’d taken basic and later advanced classes in subjects like sports studies and physical education until eventually becoming certified to teach to Gym. Even though these memories were seemingly fabricated, they felt so incredibly real that David found it hard to tell the difference.

*Good! We’re already on the right track it seems. Now all that advanced English mumbo jumbo is gone, you’re already well on your way to becoming a great Gym teacher. But of course what good is all your new knowledge on teaching sports and physical health if you’re not practicing what you teach? Let’s change that shall we?*

More and more memories to push their way inside David’s brain. Forced out were his memories of reading in his spare time and going to book conventions, replaced by memories of him going to a football club and running around a field with a bunch of other dudes throwing a ball back and forth while tackling each other to the ground. He could’ve sworn he’d never been that keen on sports and yet he looked back on memories of kicking a soccer ball around with some mates in his free time very fondly. Suddenly he could recall having played tons of different sporting activities and having loved all of them! He would even watch sports on the TV late in the evening all the time. He couldn’t imagine why he thought for even a second that he didn’t like sports. It was his entire life!

Principal Bryan watched on in astonishment from behind his desk as these mental changes also began to take a rather physical effect on David as well. David had of course always been a rather average guy physically. Having very little muscle on his frame and a small belly. However that soon began to change as any fat on his body started melting away after countless hours of playing sports. In its place some lean muscle began to grow, giving him a physique that reflected great physical health and allowing the suit David was wearing to fit his body in a much more flattering way. Upon witnessing this little transformation, the Principal couldn’t help rubbing his bulge underneath the desk. Completely enthralled by what the video was doing to David.

*Good, good. You’re already looking more and more like a man who’s ready to coach a bunch of jocks. But surely a man like you spends a lot of his time working out in the gym as well right? Lifting weights, Drinking protein shakes. You must’ve put on some noticeable muscle from all that.*

David nodded along to everything he was hearing as he started to remember spending a fair bit of his free time at the gym so he could pump up his muscles, once again causing a ripple effect in the real world. His suit began to feel tighter by the second as his muscles grew even bigger, stretching the fabric of his button down and khaki pants. Biceps threatening to tear his sleeves, almost as much as his pecs threatened to pop the top buttons on his shirt. Thighs thickening into trunks of muscle while his ass swelled up until his pants looked as though they were painted on. Seeing this, the principal had already unzipped his own pants and was jerking over his employee’s transformation.

*That’s it… Looking like a proper example of physical health already. But let’s add a dash of extra manliness to the body of yours shall we? After all, as a coach you’ve also got to serve as a pillar of masculinity at the school for everyone to look up to.*

A shiver traveled across David’s entire body as the next change took place. The small amount of body hair he had before increased as the hair on his arms and legs multiplied. Spreading up across his stomach and chest until he had a thick pelt of manly hair covering his body. However this change was largely unseen by the two men, besides a little chest hair poking out of David’s collar, due to his suit. Though it was impossible to miss David’s sudden growth of facial hair right after, his short beard growing thicker than before! Principal Bryant had always thought David would look hotter with a beard and damn was he right. However there was one last change that the Principal only noticed when David started shifting uncomfortably in his chair a little. His bulge was growing bigger. David was trying to adjust himself because his cock and balls were growing fatter!

*Now how about you show off some of those new improvements to your boss? Take off that tight button down you’re wearing David. I just know a man like you must hate wearing suits anyway.*

“Yeah… I hate suits…” David muttered to himself before practically ripping his shirt open, popping a few of the buttons in the process. The Principal’s eyes bulged at the mere sight of it, getting to see David’s hairy muscular pecs on full display now. “What do you think sir?” He asked his boss in a very monotone yet noticeably deeper voice followed up by him flexing and bouncing his pecs a little.

Bryant hadn’t realised just how personalised this video had been made. He knew that Mr Wavell guy was good but he didn’t realise he was this good. “Y-yes Mr Everett. You look great! Better than great even. You’re so hairy and… just wow. You look even hotter than before!” He was lost for words. Hardly being able to believe the hairy stud before him was the same man he’d watched from afar ever since hiring him. He couldn’t stop jerking his cock under the desk like a perv, leaking pre-cum while David flexed his arms a little to show off his biceps and hairy pits.

*I have no doubt Mr Bryant is enjoying the show right now but we’ve still got a few more things to do David. Next we’ve got to fix those clothes of yours. After all, what kind of Gym teacher wears brown loafers and suit pants?*

David nodded along, agreeing with everything the voice was telling him as his clothes began to change. The aforementioned loafers were first to be affected. They rippled slightly as the colour began to change, lightening from brown to slightly dirty white as the fabric started to alter. Laces formed on the top while the soles of the shoes became more padded. Before long David adorned a fresh pair white sneakers while his long black socks shrunk away into worn white ankle socks.

During this Principal Bryant leaned over his desk a little to get a better look at what was going on. He would’ve been more surprised at sudden change in footwear had he not just witnessed David bulk up in front of his very eyes mere moments ago. Instead Bryant watched on in curiosity as even David himself looked down to watch as his black suit pants were about to undergo a change of their own.

The belt had already evaporated into thin air while the cotton fabric of the pants was amidst transitioning into polyester. The colour began lightening significantly while the pants legs retracted, showing off more of David’s hairy calves by the second. Soon enough they’d shortened all the way up above his knees, showing off a good portion of David’s strong manly legs, while having gone from being black to light grey. Finally leaving the man with a suitable pair of shorts for his new job.

Bryant figured that must’ve been it until he noticed the discarded button down shirt wriggling a little. Sewing itself together, retracting the sleeves completely and altering its colour like everything else until all that was left was a blue tank top.

*There we go! Now you really look the part. I’d say you’re pretty much ready for your position now! All that’s left is make sure your loyalty to this job also translates to your boss Mr Bryant.*

The Principal was surprised to hear that. He hadn’t asked Mr Wavell to add this part but he couldn’t say he didn’t like the sound of it! Meanwhile David was sat having more orders and memories pushed into his mind. Orders to always do exactly as Principal Bryant asks no matter what. To serve him loyally as both an employee and a boyfriend. To be either as submissive or dominant as Bryant wanted him to be. In turn, memories then also began surfacing of David having dated the Principal for over a year now with the two even living together.

*Perfect. Now nobody will bat an eye when they see the two of you together in public. And with that I think your training to become the perfect Gym teacher for this school is complete! Bigger, manlier, more confident and completely subservient to your boss and now partner. I’d say my work here is done wouldn’t you?*

David once again simply nodded along with everything the voice told him, completely entranced.

*Now, this video is going to end momentarily and when it does you’ll believe you’ve always been the way you are now. A hairy sports loving gym coach. And you’re going to love every second of it. Thank you for listening and I hope Mr Bryant back there is pleased with the progress we’ve made today.*

With that the spiral faded and the video finished. David blinked a few times in confusion, glancing around the office and down at himself, trying to recall why exactly he was here again. “Sir… why did you call me in here again? And why am I shirtless?” He wondered, reaching for the discarded tank top.

“Leave it off.” Bryant responded quickly and to his delight David didn’t even question the order. He simply tossed the tank top back on the couch beside him. “Now uhhhh… I called you to um… tell you how good of a job you’ve been doing recently! As one of our few gym teachers you really put the most into your lessons. It’s very inspiring.” He praised the shirtless hunk before him.

David smirked, getting up from the couch and taking a few steps closer to the desk. “Oh come on, you don’t need to butter me up. If you called me in here for some fun then you just say so.” He leaned over the desk, soon quirking an eyebrow as he noticed his boss jerking his cock under it. “Mmmm looks like you already started without me.”

Bryant’s face went bright red but David didn’t seem at all phased. If anything he seemed turned on judging by how he grabbed his crotch through his new gym shorts. God it was weird! David really did believe they were boyfriends now… and he should be completely subservient according to that video. “Haha yeah I just couldn’t help myself. You’re just such a hunk David. How about you uhhh… show me just how much of a hunk you are? Flex for me again and show me why exactly the two of us are together.” He suggested, testing the waters a little.

To the principal’s delight, David did exactly as he was told. He placed one hand on his hip before tossing the other arm up into a strong bicep flex, smirking cockily as he did. He extended his arm out a couple times before bringing it back in to really show how the muscle bulged and peaked. After which he proceeded to do the same with his other arm. Flexing the bulging muscle for his boyfriend without a care in the world. And once he’d finished with his arms he moved down to his chest, grabbing at his hairy pecs a little before bouncing them as well. Showing just how large and meaty they were. He even turned around and did a double bicep pose to really show off the muscle in his back as well. But the part that really made Principal Bryant drool was when David stuck his tongue out while pulling down the back of his shorts to reveal not only his furry ass but also the fact that his underwear had also morphed into a jockstrap! “This is all for you daddy. It might be my body but you own it.” David stated.

“Well in that case, why don’t you get over here so I can smell those sweaty pits of yours.” Bryant found himself growing more confident with his commands and once again David obeyed without question. Walking around his boss’ desk and kneeling down slightly before raising up one of his arms to reveal one of his hairy pits. The principal wasted no time, shoving his nose deep into that armpit before inhaling generously. The scent was strong and musky due to the sweat David had produced during his transformation. Pungent even. But Bryant fucking loved it! He’d been dreaming of sniffing David’s pits for ages and now that he had the chance they smelt even manlier than ever before! He pulled out of one pit before ordering David to show him the other one. The scent of them being just so intoxicating. And to think he’d be able to smell these pits whenever he wanted from now on! “Fuck those smell good… you’ll need to let me sniff them again when we get home later.” He pulled away from musky pits only to give David’s pecs a quick grope, loving how soft the hairy muscle could be when relaxed.

“Of course sir. My smelly pits are yours to sniff whenever you please. I’ll even jog home later to make myself even sweatier instead of driving back with you if you’d prefer that.” David suggested while Bryant ran his tongue along one of the hairy pits, tasting the delicious sweat.

“Now that’s an incredible idea. I want you to be as sweaty as possible.” Bryant confirmed with a devilish grin. “But right now I want you to get down on your knees and suck my cock.” He continued, now fully confident in the power he held over David while gesturing down at the hard, leaking cock that was sticking out of his suit pants.

David looked down at the cock and then back up at his boss. “Anything for you sir.” He smiled seductively as he lowered himself to his knees. Soon finding himself knelt between Bryant’s legs and facing a pulsing cock that was ready to be worshiped. David didn’t waste any time, licking up and down the shaft before eventually wrapping his lips around the shaft, glancing up at Bryant with his deep masculine eyes as he took over half of it down his throat right away. Hardly even gagging when Bryant grabbed the back of head and pushed it down even further. Simply sucking on the rather thick cock as best he could, occasionally pulling off with an audible pop before jerking it for a while until he was ready to go back down on it again. It wasn’t long before the new gym teacher was deep throating the principal’s cock as if it were made out of candy, his bearded chin periodically tapping against Bryant’s nuts.

“Fuuuuck you’re such a good cock sucker…” Principal Bryant grunted in satisfaction. “But I don’t wanna cum just yet.” He added before grabbing David’s head again pulling him off the cock, precum drooling from his mouth. “Now I want you to show me just how much of a slut you are by pulling down those shorts, bending over my desk, and presenting that hairy ass to me.” He commanded with nothing but pure desire in his eyes.

David did just that, standing up and pulling down his shorts, briefly showing off the tent in his jockstrap created by his erection, before bending over the desk in front of his boss, displaying his thick hairy ass in all its glory to the other man. “How’s this sir? Like what you see?” He teased, waving his ass back and forth seductively.

Bryant didn’t even respond. His mouth went dry as his cock pulsed unbelievably hard. He almost couldn’t believe this was happening. And yet when he reached a hand out, the manly ass it rested on was most certainly real. He ran both hands across the two globes in wonder before pulling them apart slightly to get a look at David’s hole. Bryant found his face being drawn to it, slowly inching closer until he couldn’t help himself any more, stuffing his face between two hairy cheeks while internally thanking Mr Wavell for making this a reality.

The new gym teacher chuckled as his boyfriend and boss enjoyed his hole, eating it out eagerly. His enlarged cock bucking inside the jockstrap pouch under the desk as he felt Bryant’s tongue exploring inside his ass, tasting it with a seemingly insatiable hunger. David could tell the principal was really starting to get into now by the way he was smacking David’s furry ass cheeks.

Despite how much he was enjoying eating his new gym teacher boyfriend's ass, Bryant couldn’t ignore the calls of his dick any longer. After getting one last lick in, he stood up straight and looked down at the man bent over his desk with glee. This had been his dream ever since he first saw David and now he got to experience it with an upgraded version of the man. He rubbed his wet cock against the prepped hole, teasing the entrance with his tip.

Bryant looked around his office, checking that the door was locked and all the blinds were closed before grinning, knowing just how soundproof the room was. “Now. I’m gonna shove my cock up your ass and when I do you'll start moaning like cock hungry slut. Begging me to fuck like a submissive bottom who needs filling.” He instructed with a sinister smile.

“Yes sirrrOoooOOHHH FUUUUU-” David moaned out loudly in his deepened voice, hardly getting a chance to finish his response before getting speared by Bryant’s hungry dick. The principal didn’t go easy on him either, stuffing almost his entire length inside at once. “Fuck yeah sir!! Give me all that cock!” He shouted in response while Bryant started to pump in and out slowly. “Ohhh yeah I need it so badly! Keep going!” He begged.

Hearing a guy as manly as David was now begging to get his hairy hole fucked had always been one of David’s biggest fantasies and it definitely showed. He wanted to go slow but the more David moaned the more he couldn’t help picking up the pace. Slamming his cock in deeper, harder and faster with every thrust only to be met with even more slutty moans from the new gym teacher. “Yeah? You like that bitch? Mmmm fuck! Take my dick!” He responded while grabbing onto David’s hips firmly, allowing him to go balls deep with every thrust much to the other man’s delight.

“Mmmmmm yess sirrrr ooohhhhhhh yesss! Please… fill me with you load! I need it inside me!” David groaned in ecstasy as his prostate was slammed into over and over, causing his own cock to dribble excessively, dampening his jock. “Fuuuck! I need your cum so badly!” He squeezed his hole around Bryant’s member as best he could, enticing his boss to spill his load inside.

Fortunately for David, thanks to how horny Bryant was, it seemed he’d be getting his wish sooner rather than later. The principal kept up a strong, fast pace for a good while but finally the pleasure was starting to spike. His balls starting the churn as they prepared themselves. “Oh god…” He grunted, thrusts suddenly becoming less rhythmic. “Nrghh-fuck! I’m gonna… FUUUUUCCKKK!” Bryant roared as his cock exploded with one of the biggest loads he’d ever shot. Draining his balls completely inside the big manly ass before him.

“Yesssss! Give it all to me sir!” David moaned like the submissive slut that he was right now, simultaneously blowing his own load. Completely drenching his jockstrap as thick globs of cum forced their way through the fabric before dripping heavily onto the carpet below.

The two panted heavily for a moment after such an experience. Taking in everything that had just happened. David winced slightly as he felt Bryant slowly pulling his cock back until it flopped out, wet with cum and saliva. Bryant stood up straight again and looked down, admiring what he had before him. It really was a miracle.

“Alright, stand up properly for me David.” The Principal ordered and of course his slutty gym teacher boyfriend did exactly that. “Now turn around for me so I can get a good look at the mess you’ve made…” he smirked, licking his lips as he saw David’s cum covered pouch. He knelt down until he was eye level with the jockstrap before wrapping his mouth around the bulge. David’s cum tasted just as good as he’d hoped. Deliciously salty as he licked and sucked on the bulge. “Damn these balls of yours really know how to produce some amazing cum…” he complimented.

“Thank you sir…” David panted, still a little worn out. Yet he couldn’t stop a grunt from escaping his lips as Bryant squeezed his balls playfully.

With that Principal Bryant jumped back up onto his feet with a content smile on his face. As he did he grabbed the grey shorts that hung around David’s ankles and yanked them all the way back up over David’s crotch and ass. “There you go. Now I want you to go about the rest of your day with my load in your ass. Just imagine that my cum is fuel that keeps you going.” He smirked before giving David’s hairy bubble butt a hefty smack.

“Of course sir! I won’t spill a drop!” David claimed boldly before glancing over at the clock. “Well it looks like lunch is almost over. Guess I’d better start getting ready for my next class. I’ve got some students today that are just as eager about football as I am hahaha!” He chuckled.

“Well you’d better head off then Coach Everett. Wouldn’t want to keep the students waiting now would you?” Bryant smirked while stuffing his cock away in his suit pants again.

“Absolutely not!” David began making his way towards the door, grabbing his tank top and slipping it on over his head. “Well I’ll see you tonight babe after my sweaty jog home.”

“Can’t wait. And maybe tonight I’ll let you be the dominant one instead…”

David unlocked the door and pulled it open. “I like the sound of that.” And with that David took his leave, heading for the gym teacher offices as if he’d always worked down there. Not a single memory of ever being an English teacher left.

Now alone, the Principal found himself punching the air in excitement. This was better than anything he could’ve ever asked for! He’d have to thank Mr Wavell if he ever saw him again because he really went above and beyond. He couldn’t help but wonder what other sexual fantasies he could play out with David in the near future…

———

Little did Bryant know that Wavell had been present the whole time being the pervy warlock he was. Having watched everything that went down from the transformation to the sex. He had a fair reason of wanting to see if the experimental magic infused video he’d given to Bryant worked properly. “Seems everything went smoothly this time. Complete override of specific aspects of the subjects reality. Intensity of transformation magic perfectly balanced. Subject didn’t accidentally turn into a massive muscle giant hardly capable of moving nor is he aware of his former life. Seems like I’ve found the correct formula for these transformation videos.” Wavell muttered to himself…

#magic #male hypno #male transformation #male muscle growth #musclegrowth #permanent #hairy #smelly #mr wavell #beard #male hypnosis #mental change #teacher #coach #boss

[writingsfromhome]

If you Love Something II

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

——————————————

Age 36:

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

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

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

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

“I can come get you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’ll be yours soon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re cutting up what?”

“Nothing! Train’s here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Being 18 is reason enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why are you reading it?”

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

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

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

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

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

He tosses the book down lightly. “Damnit!”

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

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

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

“Full class?”

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

“They won’t be there next week.”

“Nope.”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shake my head and start setting up my laptop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um ‘scuse me. Professor?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

I retell this to Harry when I get home.

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

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

“Maybe this is the guy. The One.”

“You don’t believe in that do you?”

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

“So I’m The One?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you liking uni so far?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, didn’t see that coming.

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

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

“You have any siblings?”

“An older sister yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stiffens by the door before coming to get it.

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

“Bridget,” her voice cracks.

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

“I’ve never told anyone.”

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

“Yeah. Maybe she just looks like Taylor?”

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

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

“Harry! That’s her!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t assume,” the other chides.

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

“Oops!” They laugh.

“Anyway. This is Harry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Weird right?”

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here,” I say.

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

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

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

We sit in silence for a bit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He slides the ring on and it fits perfectly.

It was perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is that?”

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

“Is it…”

“I was waiting for you.”

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

“We should read it.” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you read it?” I ask.

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

“Y/n and Harry,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hope you call.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe she has an awful digital footprint.”

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We will.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ve fucked up so much!”

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

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

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

“I love her,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

“What do we do?” I ask

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The line goes dead and so does my heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m surprised to see an old student.

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

“Hi professor-“

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

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

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

“I had a question?”

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

“What’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sociology, I’m pre-law.”

Ambitious. “Why TA for my class?”

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

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

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

“I’m okay with that.”

“Why should I pick you?”

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

“Teaching?”

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

“What are your hobbies?”

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

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

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

“Yes,” I’d seen things online.

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

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

“Really?!”

I laugh. “Yes. Really.”

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

“Sure. Anywhere I can reach you.”

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

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

“Alright?” I raise my brow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sent from iphone.

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

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

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

Age 38:

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

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

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

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

“Mm,” I say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I cry into his shirt and he rocks me.

“I’m sorry,” I say into his shirt.

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

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

My wounds inside stay tender.

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

Harry and I finally talk about it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

“Is everything alright?”

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

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

“Sorry. I’m-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry-“

“Don’t be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m getting married that week!”

The light dims. Or maybe I imagine it.

“Oh! I thought you were married already?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

“Y/n it’s on your way home!”

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

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

“Agh and why can’t he do tomorrow?”

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

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

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

The idea hits me at once.

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

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

“Oh no. Is everything alright?”

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

“Okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, so hectic.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My jaw drops. “Harry.”

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

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

“Yes? I panicked and googled it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I also said plus one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s alright. Happy to help out.”

An awkward silence slithers in.

“So my partner invited you to our wedding.”

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

“I’m not,” I say weakly.

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

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

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

“What is it?” I ask.

“Nothing!”

“Why do you look sad what happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, but we were never ordinary.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bridget.

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

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

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

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

“Me too what?”

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s weird. Nevermind.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Liar!”

“I’m not! Why are you asking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so-“

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you get that?” Harry asks.

“Hm?”

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

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

“Hiya,” she says with an awkward wave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was finally home. My daughter.

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

She really did look like Taylor as a baby.

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

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

I turn to him, why wasn’t he here?

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

I let go of Bridget and move back to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. It could gut someone!”

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

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

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

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

“You need to take that?” Harry asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Older sister. Seems we all have sisters.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Age 39:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” y/n says as I lay my hand on her thigh, palm up. “Y’know what they say about loving someone and letting them go.”

“I guess you did that with me,” Bridget says so quietly we almost don’t hear her. But out here in the countryside we do.

“We didn’t want to,” I remind her.

“No I know.” She smiles, it’s a bit sad. Philippe tugs her closer. I could see how much he cared for her in that small gesture. “I’m not saying it like that. I hear your story and I just imagine how different my life would have been if I was raised by my, by you two. I wouldn’t have this life. And I really like this life.”

She looks at Philippe and I feel y/n squeeze my hand. She often said they reminded her of us when we were younger; the kind of love you’d do anything for.

“But you two loved me enough to let me go. To let each other go. It’s fucking sad but it’s beautiful. Life’s weird.”

“Here here,” Y/N raises her nearly empty cup of hot cocoa. “Life’s weird, sad, beautiful, but lately my life’s been full of so much love. I wish I could sell all the excess, I think I could solve a lot of world problems with it.”

“Wow,” I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “That’s one hell of a speech.”

“I have a speech,” Philippe stands, a little tipsy, and clears his throat. Bridget rolls her eyes but they shine for him. “Bridget you’re the love of my life. Since we were 13. But Harry and Y/N, I think I love you too. Ever since we were 15, I’ve watched Bridge struggle for answers about her past. And you two have given her all the answers, welcomed her—and me actually, into your lovely life. I’ve watched her become old Bridge but even more confident. I’m falling harder for her these days. And I can’t thank you guys enough.”

“Aw Philippe come here,” y/n lets of my hand to walk around and give him a hug. How quickly strangers became family.

Bridget grumbles about being left out and joins the hug. Soon I join in too. I want to create a mold of this moment, I think as I squeeze them against me, I’d make it out of plaster and let it dry. Any time we wanted, we could always find our way back to this moment here.

Age 40:

Y/N and I watch our daughter cross the stage. Beside us are our parents and in front of us sits Bridget’s parents and her sister. She has a whole army cheering for her. This was the first milestone event we could all really show up for, and show up we did.

“I can’t believe this,” I was so proud of her. I know the kudos went to her parents, and herself, but I beam with pride. Honestly Bridget could spin in a circle in front of me and I would be a proud dad.

“We need to get photos,” mum leans over and says so seriously, as if we hadn’t planned on getting a million already.

We have a framed picture in our hall, Y/N and I on our wedding day, our daughter in between us. Her graduation photo is definitely making it. She makes fun of this wall, calls it the Styles hall of fame, and I never mention it but she always lingers a few second longer in front of the photo of the three of us.

I do too.

“It makes me so sad you won’t be so close to me anymore,” my mum tells Bridget later. We’re all piled in our flat, drinks and celebratory cake in everyone’s hands.

It reminds me of mine and y/n’s 40th birthday, we had gathered our family and friends here and it was some of their first times meeting our daughter. Today is more intimate, and focused on Bridget.

“I know it makes me sad too, but I’ll be here often, visiting Philippe.”

“Only visiting Philippe?” I raise a brow.

“Is there someone else I’m supposed to be visiting?” She mirrors my raised brow.

As Bridget’s gotten more comfortable, me and her could banter for hours if you let us, it’s one of those things that brought us closer together—having the same sense of humour. It’s allowed us to have just as deep heart-to-hearts, a handy joke always close to the surface.

Y/N always says seeing me like that, thoughtful and silly, reminds her of the boy she fell for. I can’t deny that I’ve been feeling closer to my 20 year old self than my 40 year old self lately.

“She’s too cheeky,” Bridget’s mum says. “But I have to say I’ll be glad to have her back.”

Lou, Bridget’s sister, was moving to Wales. Apparently she wanted to know more about her background, and take a trip with her bio mum to visit her bio dad.

I think Bridget was moving back to Coventry to keep her parents’ loneliness away; she said she would commute to Birmingham for school. Even though she got accepted into law schools in London, going to a uni close to her parents just showed me how close she was to her parents. It was a bittersweet feeling.

“I’ll have somebody to watch cricket with again,” her dad says.

“Ohh,” Bridget throws her sister a side-eye. “I love cricket…”

We all laugh at her complete lack of concealing her true feelings.

Later that night, it’s just Bridget’s parents and us. The kids are on the balcony talking.

“I know we’ve said it before,” I say after a long silence. We’d just been watching the kids talk and laugh outside. “But I want to say thank you again.”

Bridget’s dad shakes his head. “It was the greatest pleasure of our lives getting to raise those two girls.”

He looks over at his wife and they smile at one another. Seeing them interact, I’m grateful that somehow fate had led us to them. While Y/N and I were figuring life out, while I fucked up a lot of things, she was raised on a steady and stable foundation.

“She’s incredible,” I murmur. “She’s gonna be a lawyer. She’s going to change the world.”

“She sure will,” her mum says. “We should be thanking you two. For giving us Bridget. I know it wasn’t easy, you told me you thought about her nearly every day. But we can’t imagine our lives without her.”

We sit in a comfortable silence, looking out at the kids until they notice and start to ask questions through the glass.

“She’s happier,” her mum says smiling at Bridget and Lou exaggerating their words through the glass. “She stopped being like this before she left for uni. We thought we lost her but…I think everything worked out for the best.”

Y/N glances at me. Her eyes crinkle when she finds me looking at her first, her eyes steady me as she says what I was thinking, “I think so too.”

Age 45

Your pov: “When did she say she would be here?”

“6?” Harry says for the tenth time.

“It’s 6:20 do you think something happened? She hasn’t texted has she?”

“My love,” Harry puts down the cutlery he was arranging on the table and holds my face in his hands. “They’re driving from Coventry, they probably hit some traffic.”

“Maybe I should call her?”

Harry sighs and squishes my face.

“Don’t! You’ll make more wrinkles.” I warn.

“I love your wrinkles,” Harry kisses my forehead right where the pesky wrinkles had been growing deeper over the last few years despite the additions to my night routine.

Harry always said our wrinkles were just the stories of our lives showing through. I told him to get himself undereye cream.

“You don’t think I’m aging handsomely?” He strokes the moustache he started growing last year. At this age, even I couldn’t deny it made him even more attractive.

“Well it’s no good if you’re ageing handsomely and I age like a troll.”

“I will love you if you age into a troll.”

“But will you love me if I turn into a worm?”

“Do you even have to ask? I’d buy you the best soil and keep you in a beautiful pot.”

“You wouldn’t take me fishing?” I ask. He sighs. Last year while we were taking a trip up north for Lou’s wedding, we’d gotten into a fight and when I asked him the question while he was still stewing he said he’d take me fishing. It had, ironically, broken the iciness of his anger and we’d laughed about it so hard he’d nearly had to pull over.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” he wraps me into his chest nearly suffocating me.

I’d spent half my life with a lot of difficulties, but life now felt easy compared to it. I had the privilege of getting older with the man I adored, got to watch my daughter flourish as an adult and a lawyer, watch her get married to the love of her life, and all the while live comfortably in the heart of this city I called home.

When Bruno starts barking though, I gasp and push myself off of Harry, “that’s them!”

Bruno continues to bark as I rush to the door. We’d got him a couple years ago as a pup and I can’t believe it had taken us that long to get a dog. He filled our lives with laughter and long walks. We loved him.

“Down.” I say to him. I open the door and hold my hands out while Bruno runs in circles beside me.

“Ahhh sorry we’re late!” Bridget steps into my hug and I tug Philippe’s hood so he can join. Bruno goes for Philippe when they walk in, he’d gotten obsessed with him after Philippe took care of him while Harry and I took an anniversary trip last year.

“Where are my hellos!?” Bridget says to Bruno and he barks, standing on his back legs to paw at her leg.

I hadn’t seen the two of them since March, that was 6 months ago. It had been their wedding, and they’d gone on a month long honeymoon after that, after which Harry and I had taken time off to road trip around Europe with Bruno, and then time had just zipped by.

After a hearty dinner, Harry and I carry out the birthday cake we’d been hiding.

“You didn’t have to do this!” Bridget fans her face but we treat it like we do any special occasion, plus making up for all the ones we’d missed. We get photos and exchange presents, she cries reading the cards and the whole time she says she had a present for us.

It’s a small bag, Harry and I guess that it was something for Bruno but when we take out a box it doesn’t sound like much when we shake it.

“Is this a prank gift? There’s nothing in it?” Harry asks.

“Open it!” He was making me antsy.

“You open it,” he hands me the box. Bridget and Philippe stare intently at my hands.

I undo the bow and slowly open the box. There’s a small square of tissue paper, and then a piece of paper. I remove both but something catches my eye.

I flip the paper over and stop breathing.

“Is that-“ Harry stops talking too. We stare at the piece of paper in our hands. It looks so much like one I had held 28 years ago. But it’s not.

“Bridge,” I look up at the couple. The parents-to-be.

“We’re having a baby,” Bridget says. Philippe and her are gripping hands and I throw everything off of me to launch myself at her.

“A baby!” I hear Harry say and joining us. “You’re having a baby! Y/n!”

“I never thought we’d be grandparents,” I look up at Harry.

“Those wrinkles were coming in for a reason,” he teases.

We never did have any other kids. Quite frankly, neither of us wanted any. When we first got together we were just starting to get comfortable with the reminder that we had a daughter out there and we could talk about her freely with each other. It felt like having a third person in our little family.

After Harry proposed, while we planned our wedding, we talked about it but we never thought it felt right. We both had first marriages where a lack of conceiving had just put a strain on the relationship we didn’t think we needed. We’d also felt like it was betraying something, before we met our first child.

When Bridget did reach out, it became about catching up on lost time. And then with her in our lives we knew what we suspected all along. We had each other, and that was enough. Bridge was our bonus. And getting to be aunt and uncle to our nieces and nephews it was enough. It was a full enough life.

We never even dreamed in our 20s we’d get to be parents and now we would get to be grandparents! I never realized until this moment that I wanted this. Really wanted it.

“Do you know the gender?” Harry asks.

“No,” Philippe answers. “We were thinking of doing one of those reveal parties? But not for a couple months.”

“Wow,” my hands drift down to Bridget’s belly and I remember I had something. I leap away from the group and find the box in my closet, it’s painted pink with random collages from old magazines. It hosts old diaries, photos, a hospital bracelet, and an ultrasound.

“This was you once,” I show her the picture when I get back. “I carried you like that once upon a time.”

She takes it with teary eyes, holding it close to her face to make out the shape of her. She hands it to Philippe and grabs my hands.

“I’ve thought about it before, but when I got pregnant I couldn’t wait to tell you-“

“She kept telling me I had to make a trip out to London just so she could give you the news.” Philippe interrupts, eyes scanning the ultrasound still.

“No really,” Bridget laughs. “I did. It’s like I got this new perspective.”

She puts my hands on her belly and covers mine with hers. I feel everything at once then, all the heartbreak I ever went through to get here.

“I can’t imagine giving this baby up. And it’s barely 3 months. What you were willing to do to give me a better life-“

She breaks off and Philippe squeezes her shoulder. I watch my daughter try to gain control of her emotions. I remember when I was pregnant with her, anything would set me off.

“It must not have been easy. After carrying me like this for 9 whole months. Thank you-“ she looks up to where Harry’s standing. I barely register his hand on my shoulder. “Thank you as my mum and dad, for making the hardest decision I can imagine ever making, so I could have something you knew you couldn’t provide.”

I reel my tears in, save them for later that night in bed while Harry holds me tight against him.

Right now I kiss my daughter and tell her what a good mother she will make. I tell her and Philippe how proud I was of them, how excited, how wonderful this was.

Age 46

The day we meet our granddaughter is seared into my brain. We get the call at 8:35pm, Harry and I were staying in a B&B in Coventry despite Bridget’s mum insisting we stay with her. We’d been here all weekend, booked it all week, not wanting to miss Bridget’s delivery date.

“Y/N she’s here,” her mum whispers into the phone. Her voice is filled with joy and giddiness. “She’s here.”

“We’re coming,” I say. Harry’s already at the door and we rush out into the night to see our granddaughter.

She has the perfect little face, and when she finally wakes up I gasp when I see Harry’s eyes looking back at me. I turn to him, to see if he noticed, but he’s teary-eyed and gazing at the baby in awe. I soak it in for a second, imagining this exact look if we’d kept our baby so many years ago.

Bridget’s parents had given us the room, to give us a moment alone, and I can’t be more grateful. Bridget encourages us to hold her and as her soft body is pressed into my body I let out a sob and hand her over to Harry. I excuse myself and step outside the room.

Lou’s kids sit on the floor outside, playing with whatever toys are spilling out of a miniature backpack. I focus on the flashy colours, trying to calm down, counting the number of toys falling out.

My life was a 180 from 10 years ago. This moment would go down in our history books as one of the best days of our lives.

But I can’t deny the bittersweet. The experience threatens to push me into the bitter past of not even getting to hold Baby Bridget. But with it comes an undeniable sweetness of getting to experience this now.

I take a deep breath and walk back in. Harry and Bridget stop mid-sentence and turn to me. Bridget’s face is streaked with tears, Harry’s looks concerned but I smile. He sits with the pink bundle to his chest and I ache.

“Don’t look so obvious you were talking about me,” I try a joke.

“Are you alright?” Bridget asks.

“May I hold her?” I ask in return.

I sit on the edge of the bed and she’s placed in my arms; she’s perfect. Just as perfect as Bridget must have been.

“She’s got Philippe’s hair,” I gently stroke the wispy blonde strands.

“She’s got my eyes, her grandpa’s eyes.”

I look at Harry. And he catches the stricken look on my face when Bridget tips forward and whispers to her baby.

“Look baby, this is your mumma’s mum, and your mumma’s dad. You’ve got his beautiful eyes. Say hi to grandma!”

My throat tightens. “Bridge.”

She leans away, her eyes dart between us. “I know I call you Y/N and Harry. It made it easier at first but…you are my mum and dad. Even though I have another pair. You are my mum and dad. And I want her to know you like that.”

“Oh love,” Harry leans down and kisses the top of our daughter’s head. She keeps her green eyes trained on me, grasping my hand that’s wrapped under her baby’s.

I mouth a thank you, my voice couldn’t pass through the block in my throat. She squeezes my hand and it sets the baby off. Remembering when my nephews were this young, I just hand her back to Bridget knowing she only wanted her mum.

Harry and I stay in the waiting room. We couldn’t go home, even though we had spent our allotted time we had inside the room, we stay there.

We watch Lou’s kids as Bridget’s family gathers in her room. We stay as they fall asleep, draped over us. I remember when Taylor’s kids were this small, they would fall asleep anywhere.

We talk in whispers, I don’t remember what about exactly. Mostly how excited we were. How there was so much to look forward to. How different our lives looked a decade ago.

“One day we’ll tell our grandkids,” I remember Harry saying. “We’ll tell them all about us, how we met, how our love burned so bright it shone in the sky. We lost each other but our love was always there to guide us back home.”

“We’ll see them grow up, all the memories we missed.”

“We’ll change diapers.”

“We’ll change diapers,” I giggle, half-delirious by the lack of sleep. It was probably 2am and I was tired.

When I gaze up at Harry I remember him holding our granddaughter. I replace her with Bridget. For a minute I allow myself to imagine how that would have been.

“I think you would have made an amazing mum if we did things differently,” Harry whispers into my hair.

“You too.” I whisper back.

“An amazing mum? You think?” The edge of his lips tug upwards.

“Harry,” I warn. We had kids sleeping on us we were trying not to wake.

“I love you.” He says in response. “To the stars and back.”

On our drive home I can’t stop looking at him. I always wondered how it would be like to grow old with someone; when I was younger and watch my own parents celebrate anniversaries. And then when I was older and my first marriage was so rocky.

But thinking about it now is like a simple mathematical equation. You take two lives, two individuals, and you bracket them in love. You add an exponent—the decision to continue choosing each other. And you get a lifelong commitment. No matter the situation, no matter the challenges or the changes, you choose to choose each other.

His side profile lights up by an oncoming car. For a second he’s the same boy I feel in love with, a few more gray hairs, a few more wrinkles, and a moustache. But he’d always be the boy I followed out to the roof, who held my hand in our high school hallway, the one who turned an I into a we when I got pregnant, I see the man I had coffee with after a run-in at the Whole Foods, I see the broken heart from a harsh life sitting on the steps of a church, I see a bookworm, I see a father, a husband, and now a grandfather. I see the one person who knows me like the back of his hand. The one I am home with always.

“What is it?” Harry asks as we pull into our b&b. “Have you been asleep this whole ride or have you been staring at me?”

“Staring at you?” I ask. “You think I was staring at you the whole ride?”

“Well you were really silent. And facing me

“I was thinking.”

“About me?”

“Why are you so desparate!? Do I not show you enough love regularly?”

“I could always use more,” Harry looks half asleep as we reach our door.

“The people are right: you give someone a hand and watch as they take the whole arm,” I tease.

“When you gave me your hand, I made you a wife.” Harry retorts.

“Ooh,” I poke him. “I have to say that’s a good comeback for being half-asleep.”

Harry grins back. “You keep me sharp.”

“And you keep me happy. Now open the door so I can stop freezing out here!”

We walk into the warmth of our b&b.

For so much of our lives, our past decisions haunted us. We let so much go. Now life was repaying us, returning it all back, with interest.

***

In a small b&b in the middle of a town called Coventry, two lovers crawl into bed. They’d just become grandparents and they carry an exhausted buzz about them as they try to fall asleep. They’re both thinking of the other, of their daughter, of the tiny bundle they held in their arms today.

Some 20 minutes away their daughter lays in a hospital bed, an exhausted buzz putting her to sleep. She dreams of her mother who gave her up, how she had found her parents in the end, and dreams about the kind of mother she’ll be.

A few doors down lay her newborn daughter, she doesn’t dream of much, not yet, but she’s in for a lifetime of love.

Most of life is what we made it. Y/N and Harry loved deeply enough to make it.

———————————————

TAGLIST: @quinnwritezz @unknownnbihh @dilfhrrys @umadirectioner @hermionelove @anonymous-91 @meganxfddf

#harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #writingsfromhome #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #fic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #if you love something #dad!harry #its not my fave but I was getting tired of tweaking it #to shorten it #theres just so much to catch up on #kinda nervous #but also kinda done

[restinslices]

MK1 x Winter Soldier Reader Intros

Me not writing only about the Lin Kuei Bros? Who would've thought. Idk why I thought of this but here we are. For those not into Marvel the simplest way to explain TWS is he was in the Army in the 50s then he was injected with the super soldier serum and forced to become an assassin with over two dozen assassinations in the last 50 years. You're not a white guy named James “Bucky” Barnes, you just hold the title. Also you got a metal arm, it’ll make sense later-

Kung Lao: You’re a Winter Soldier? 

Y/N: I am The Winter Soldier 

Kung Lao: Ugh, more training?

Y/N: Do you expect to get better through sheer luck?

Kung Lao: I take it Liu Kang doesn’t allow assassins to be Earthrealm’s champion?

Y/N: Assassins and failures, such as yourself

 

Kung Lao: How do I become a Winter Soldier?

Y/N: You don’t 

Raiden: It is an honor to be trained by you 

Y/N: As is to train Earthrealm’s champion 

Raiden: I can’t imagine going through what you have 

Y/N: Good. You’ll save yourself nightmares

 

Y/N: Sometimes I worry I’m not a good person

Raiden: You are a good person through and through

 

Y/N: I wish I had lightning powers

Raiden: I wish I had your metal arm

(These rabid dogs behind him-)

Liu Kang: I hoped your life would be better this time

Y/N: Why hope when you had the power to change it and didn’t?

Y/N: You let my life go down this path?

Liu Kang: I cannot control everything

 

Y/N: You let me be a part of Earthrealm’s defenses, why? Pity?

Liu Kang: Because you are a capable warrior who deserves more in life

Liu Kang: Do you doubt my care for you?

Y/N: You expect me to still believe our friendship is real?

Y/N: I am not playing an assassin in your movie

Johnny: Aw, but you have tons of experience 

Johnny: How much for the arm?

Y/N: Not for sale

(That debt kicking his ass)

Johnny: Your life could make an amazing movie

Y/N: You’ll become a real victim if I see it

Johnny: Over two dozen assassinations but a date with me would ruin you?

Y/N: If I had to pick between being a mindless assassin and dating you, I’d put my mask back on

Kenshi: Wanna trade predicaments?

Y/N: A blindfold looks much better on you

 

Kenshi: Have you ever fought a blind swordsman?

Y/N: Not sure it’d be fair to count it as a fight

 

Y/N: I too understand the need for a new life 

Kenshi: Perhaps that is why we are such good friends

 

Kenshi: Planning on giving me a hand?

Y/N: I don’t think you’d see it coming

Y/N: And they call me The Winter Soldier 

Bi-Han: Jokes will not help you win this fight

 

Bi-Han: You have not a shred of hope against the Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster

Y/N: Your ego is what’ll knock you down in the end

 

Bi-Han: You won’t have the element of surprise with me

Y/N: Oh Bi-Han, I’ll be the last thing you see before you die 

Bi-Han: You alone won’t take the Lin Kuei down

Y/N: I’ve taken a whole country down in one night. Excuse me for not being scared

Kuai Liang: I am glad to have your support 

Y/N: You always will

 

Y/N: Are you willing to kill Bi-Han if he does not back down?

Kuai Liang: I am not sure

Y/N: Liu Kang could’ve made all our lives better and chose not to

Kuai Liang: You have to believe in his judgment

 

Kuai Liang: Liu Kang is not your enemy 

Y/N: He is certainly not our friend

Y/N: I’ve heard you’re a great fighter 

Tomas: I’ve heard the same about you

 

Tomas: You look great for 106 years old

Y/N: God, you gotta stop hanging around Johnny

 

Tomas: Why still defend Earthrealm if you’re so angry?

Y/N: The same reason you do; the need to protect is bigger than anger

Tomas: Why’d I have to hit Madam Bo and not you?

Y/N: I’m left/right handed and that’s the metal one soooo…

"I'm gonna write angst soon" *proceeds to write dumb Marvel x Mortal Kombat shit* I could've looked for gifs when they clash but my tumblr is actually so glitchy, if I did that I'd Kate Marsh. Also disclaimer. I should be writing Liar pt 3 and I have some of it written but I'm fr not having fun with it. For whatever reason it's just not making me happy like Mortal Kombat is. And as a bitch who has bad depression and that shit gets alarmingly bad during this time of year, uhhh I don't wanna do something that's not making me happy. I'm not tryna go to another hospital so Imma put off writing it until I'm having fun. Who knows, maybe that'll be next week. But yeah, that's for the Shadow and Bone fans here. Also also a fanfic, oneshot, drabble, whatever the fuck about being with Liu Kang (or being friends) and thinking your relationship is fake because as your creator he must've forced it to happen (he didn't but ya know). Am I cooking 'cause I feel like I am.

#mortal kombat x marvel #mk1 #mk1 intros #mk1 2023 #kung lao #kung lao mk1 #kung lao mk1 intro #mortal kombat 1 #raiden mk1 #raiden mk1 intro #liu kang #liu kang mk1 #liu kang mk1 intro #johnny cage #johnny cage mk1 #johnny cage mk1 intro #kenshi takahashi #kenshi takahashi mk1 #kenshi takahashi mk1 intro #bi han #bi han mk1 #bi han sub zero #bi han mk1 intro #kuai liang #kuai liang scorpion #kuai liang mk1 #kuai liang mk1 intro #tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada smoke #tomas vrbada mk1

[tw1l1te]

𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖘𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖔- 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊

Author's note: Sorry this one's a bit short! Finals and work are killing me :<

ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

You sigh heavily once you shut the door, the interaction leaving you more stressed out than before. You could already sense the dynamic you were going to have with them, however long they ended up staying in the village or being involved in your life. 

You were beneath them.

You could sense it, the way some of them almost looked down at you, judging you by the information you gave them. But, frankly, you didn’t care. This is your era, not theirs, so you were going to fulfill whatever purpose you had your way.

You walk through the path that lead deeper into the woods, eyeing the cottage on the edge of the forest. It was already getting dark out, the sky a dark shade of periwinkle.

Walking up to the door, you knock lightly calling out to the woman inside, “Impa? You there?”

“Y/n! Come in, come in!”

You opened the door to find Impa hunched over a map in front of her small fireplace. Closing the door behind you, you walk up to her to see what exactly she was looking at.

“Heard some family has come to see you.”

“They’re not my family. I’m not even remotely related to them.”

“Your spirit says otherwise. Have you told them?”

“Yes. Well, the important parts at least.”

“Lying will just end up making things worse for you, Y/n.”

“I didn’t technically lie. They just happened to not ask certain things.”

“I see.”

You both stay quiet for a moment, basking in the embers of the small fire. Fire was a necessity in this day and age, considering how you almost never feel warm enough now, regardless of how many layers or how many fires you have. Impa stands up, setting the map down on a nearby stool.

“Care for some tea? It’s spiced, so it’ll warm you up some more.”

“Sure, I'd like that.”

She hands you a carved cup full of tea, the rivulets of steam dancing on the surface of the liquid. Blowing at the tea, you take a small sip, the warm drink soothing your throat and warming your chest.

“It’s good, Impa, thank you.”

She nods in thanks, sitting back down on her chair. Her face looks worried, though you anticipate her discussing what’s on her mind. 

“Y/n there’s activity at the Northern edge of the forest. Presumably, followers of Hylia have found our encampment and want to gain access into our underground archives south of the village. I’ve already communicated with Arden and the others. It’s best you leave at dawn in order to cut them off. We can’t risk any discovery, not now.”

You stare at the tea in your hands as she tells you this, already in the process of formulating what you need to bring and what tactics you should use.

“It’s also best if you travel by foot to avoid any technology tracking or excessive noise, especially with Hylians. You and I both know they have better hearing than most.”

You know what she was hinting at with that statement: an accident that had occured during your travels a couple years ago. 

She scootches up to you, hands on her knees.

“We both know we want to avoid conflict and move towards a peaceful future. We can’t do that if our entire village is massacred and stripped bare of records and families. I’m sorry I have to ask you again, you know I can’t promise it’ll end anytime soon.”

You smile sadly at her, nodding at her words.

“I know. I’ve come to terms with that for the most part. I just… hate having to get rid of her servants, knowing they can be saved from her manipulation and control.”

She nods, reaching for your hands. Despite years of training and combat, her hands felt so comforting and warm. Something you’d never expect from an old, hardened woman.

Sighing, you place the tea down, looking at Impa.

“I better go. I promised the… ancestors I’d find them a place to rest for the night. I’ll converse with the rest of the team before tomorrow to make sure we’re well prepared.”

You take a pause, walking towards the door. Looking back, you whisper,

“Thank you, Impa.”

~

You made a straight bee line back to the main camp, hands balled into fists to contain your nerves. You couldn’t wait, all of you needed to leave now. 

Hylia’s followers were unpredictable, and you knew that if you didn’t leave soon, the camp would be dead by dawn.

You finally see the main cabin in view, panting lightly from trekking in the snow. Pushing the door open, you immediately start looking for Colin, Arden, Dusk and the others. The heroes could find their own damn house, they were more than capable of that.

Speaking of, you could feel their eyes on you, no doubt curious as to why you were in such a rush. Time and Wars were already standing up, making you curse under your breath. Finally spotting them in the far corner of the room, you walk over.

“Arden, we need to leave.”

“What? Why? Impa gave orders to leave at dawn-”

“You don’t know them like I do, Arden. They’re fucking unpredictable, their going to kill everyone here if we don’t move now.”

“Who is?” Wars asks, a few feet behind you. You jump slightly from the unexpected presence, recomposing yourself quickly.

“No one. Just nightly patrol.”

Arden gives you the look, which you just glare at him. Now was not the time to invite new recruits.

“We could use their help, Link.”

“No, we couldn’t. They’re staying here.”

Wars scoffs, settling a hand on his hip, “Says who?”

You look him dead in the eye, already tired of rambling with everyone. You throw up your arms in defeat, wanting to get this over with.

“Fine, fine. You lot can come but you follow my lead, got it? I don’t want any casualties tonight.”

He nods, satisfied with your answer. He relays it to the others, some of them looking less passionate than others, but agreed upon nonetheless. 

Turning back to Arden, you mutter “Meet me at my place in half an hour, we leave in an hour. Finish up here and get whatever you need, I’ll make sure the others are equipped and ready.”

He nods, the others agreeing alongside him. The plan was set.

You start speed-walking towards the entrance, not waiting around for the men to follow you. You had shit you needed to get done.

ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

#linked universe x reader #linked universe au #yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe #false hero au

[mistystepmoonbeam]

Reborn into BG3: Chapter 7

You're reborn into BG3 with only the memory of your past life. Now you're Tav's companion on his journey, and must learn about yourself as much as your new reality.

Chapter 7: To the goblin camp!

Word count: 2.1K

The next morning you’re exhausted and nauseated.  You aren’t sure how much blood Astarion took but it was enough to get Tav flitting around you, his mother duck feathers ruffled.  

It’s hard not to look at Astarion as you try to gauge the vampire’s attitude—does he want to tell the others?  After feeding on Tav the others just seemed to know in the morning once you start talking to him, so you’re at a loss for words stuck between wanting to tell the truth, and wanting to earn Astarion’s trust.

“Looks like you and Astarion had a late night last night,” Karlach interjects with a wide grin.  “Saw him slinking out of your tent in the wee morning hours.  Gotta say I’m a little jealous—of both of you I mean.  Getting to touch another person like that…”

Gale chokes on his water, sputtering and coughing behind you. 

“I don’t think that’s what they were doing, Karlach,” Shadowheart says.  “Unless it was before he took a bite.”

Karlach laughs.  “Isn’t biting part of the fun?”

“Biting?” Tav questions.

You lift your arm, expecting to see dried blood and two little holes in your wrist but it’s completely normal.  Even whatever blood hadn’t made it into Astarion’s mouth was nowhere to be seen.

Shadowheart reveals, “I healed the wound and cleaned up the blood.  Astarion didn’t want to be blamed for you bleeding out in the middle of the night.  Nor did I.”

“Thanks,” you respond, eyes still on your wrist.  If you didn’t feel like throwing up it’s like it never even happened.

Gale appears at your side.  “To each their own, I always say, but if it leads to such dire circumstances perhaps you should find yourself a more suitable partner.”

“For the love of—“ Astarion cries out.  “We didn’t have sex!  I fed—I’m a…I’m a vampire.”

That little admission didn’t sound intentional, but you’re glad to have the attention on him. 

He must have told Shadowheart because she’s the only one that isn’t displaying shock, confusion, curiosity, or disgust.  

“But you’re in the sun.”  Karlach is first to break the quiet.

There’s a discussion about what the parasite is capable of, resulting in Karlach complaining, “So you can walk in the sun but I still can’t touch anyone?  Seems unfair.”

Tav grabs you into a one-armed hug, nearly slamming you against his chest as he points his other hand at Astarion.  “You feed off me next time!  I have more blood, I can afford it.”

“Isn’t it better if he feeds on me?” you ask into the tieflings chest.  “Since I’m not going out and fighting off goblins and spiders?”

Your dream comes back to you—talking around the fire, learning magic with Gale…but you can’t decipher which is memory and which is the dream.  You focus on it, knowing that Tav had found the amethyst and was tossing it around like a toy only to be scolded by Gale.  But no book.  Maybe that was why you hadn’t felt anything from it in the dream—there was no memory to pull from.  You find yourself a little disappointed by the fact that Gale hadn’t offered to test your magic but quickly push away the feeling.

You push Tav away, too.  “Besides, I’m fine.  I’m not that important here anyway so if Astarion needs to feed on me now and again he’s welcome to.”

“Thank you, darling,” Astarion says, “but I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

After that the group forces you to consume as much fruit as possible in a single sitting.  Soon enough your nausea isn’t from blood loss but overeating, and you’re shooing away the worriers—Tav, Gale, and Karlach. 

“Don’t you guys have somewhere to be?  Halsin is still out there.”  There’s a pang in your chest knowing he’s in the goblin camp.

“That’s true.”  Tav sighs.  “You should come with us.”

You pause, wondering if you looked healthier than you felt.  “…why?”

“It’ll be fun?  And when you lose blood it’s better to be out and about.”

“That doesn’t sound remotely right,” you reply.  Tav is kneeling beside you, eyes large and watery as they look into your own.  Can tieflings be half puppy?  You have to stop yourself from agreeing to his request on the spot.  “I don’t want to slow you guys down.  Or get one of you killed.  Or die.”

“We aren’t going to be fighting, they’re going to let us in.”

There’s too many variables and you’re forced to repeat, “Why?”

“We went back and got Sazza, the goblin you saved,” Tav explains.

“She was grateful enough to offer us an introduction to her tribe and leaders,” Gale says.  “I’m sure your presence will grease the wheels, so to speak.” 

You conceded, if only after Tav gave you another small health potion.

You set out with more party members than you thought you would—Tav, Karlach, Gale, and Astarion.  You hope Wyll would be enough of a buffer for Shadowheart and Lae’zel as they search the upper roads for signs of the githyanki.  It’s strange to see the camp split up, but it makes more sense than leaving people to sit around all day. Granted, you’d love to be sitting right now as you approach the bridge leading into the goblin camp.  It’s not just the fatigue, or the anxiety of being surrounded by goblins, but knowing what will happen when they cross the bridge.  When you cross the bridge.  And what it means if nothing happens. You hadn’t actually seen the device Shadowheart held and she wasn’t even here right now…

“It will be okay,” Gale says quietly.  You’d lagged back far enough for him to notice, and stay near you.  “You’ve seen just how charming our fearless leader is.”

You force your lips into a shaky smile and nod.  With Gale at your side you catch up to the others as they’re about to cross the bridge into the ruined shrine.  The spiky barricades aren’t nearly as threatening as what’s about to come. 

Tav sets one foot on the bridge, then Karlach, Astarion, Gale…you.  Your leader is halfway across when you briefly think you might be in the clear, until he falls to his knees.  He grunts in pain, holding his head as the others follow suit, all of them going down at the same time beneath the pressure of the Absolute.  

You flinch back and…nothing.  You’re fine.  You hear no voice, feel no pain in your body, other than what you had before, and watch while the others shiver and groan, listening to the Absolute's message about the chosen three.  You grip your staff as you watch with wide eyes, heart clenching, unable to help them or understand why you aren’t included.  But the tadpole in your head doesn’t stir, not even when the relic shoots out of Tav’s bag and saves them from the Absolute’s control.  It glows orange as it floats above Tav until he can grab it, releasing the group.

“What in the bloody Hells was that?” Astarion shouts.

They’re each breathing heavy as they stand, shaking their heads in hopes of clearing their minds.  

“I think that was the Absolute,” Gale suggests, “and her chosen.”

“Whatever it was, that thing protected us.”  Karlach’s eyes are in the Githyanki device in Tav’s hands.  He shifts it between his fingers but it doesn’t react, so he puts it back into the bag at his waist.

And nobody questions you.  Being the last one behind, they seem to assume you’d heard the voice and seen the vision, too.  You’ve never been so grateful to be an unimportant extra.

You try not to let your exhaustion show in front of the goblins.  Your body and mind both feel like there’s a heavy weight on them, pushing you towards the ground until your knees want to buckle.  You’re using the staff to help keep you upright, and blame everything on blood loss and anxiety.  

Thankfully Gale was right about Tav’s charisma and you get inside the temple with little trouble.  The trouble being dragging Tav away from chicken chasing.  They have a chicken, not an owlbear, and the only other human there is Volo so you’re not sure what route was taken yesterday.  Nobody had mentioned an owlbear, meaning they had skipped past the cave…or perhaps didn’t want to tell you about killing the cub.

Regardless, apparently chicken chasing is as fun for Tav as it is for the goblins, and you’re only able to get him away and into the temple by promising you’ll give it a try when you’re feeling better. 

Once inside and past the guards, you see Priestess Gut.  Her presence is more imposing than her stature suggests and there’s a crackling fear that runs through your body when her eyes fall on you.  Tav takes the lead, denying the branding after a quick meeting of the worms, and the Priestess invites him elsewhere. 

“Not that one, though,” she says, looking at you.  “That one’s not a True Soul, been abandoned by the Absolute.  They’ll stay locked up until we’re done.”

“Huh?”  It’s all you can think to say as two goblins with pikes and shields approach you.  They don’t get close enough to touch you before the others step to your aid, which puts the rest of the surrounding goblins on alert, drawing their own weapons.

“Not gonna happen,” Karlach announces.

“Put your weapons down while I’m bein’ nice,” Priestess Gut orders.  “I could just have you all killed on the spot but I’m feeling generous–you’ll all walk out of here fine but that one stays in the cage until we’re done.”

Tensions rise when she spits out the words “that one”, like you’re some gnat needing to be squished.  Your companions don’t lower their weapons, and neither do the goblins.  You know how this fight goes, you know it can be won when turns are taken but right now there are no turns.  No waiting.

“I’ll go!” you shout.  You hold your staff out to Gale, cursing the slight tremble in your hands and voice.  “It’s just for a bit.  I’ll wait for you guys in…prison.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Gale whispers.  He only takes your staff when you shake your head.

Karlach and Tav seem about to argue, fight even, before the goblins can react, but you shake your head at them as well.  I’ll be fine, you think.  You wish you understood how to use the tadpoles to send messages, but maybe it went through anyway because they all holster their weapons.  Even Astarion, whom you’d hadn’t realised was willing to fight on your behalf as well, returns his daggers to their holsters.

“Just uh, don’t be too long, okay?”  You try not to think about the people the goblins are cooking outside, or that the butcher is in the same place you’re about to go.  You don’t look back at anyone as you’re taken away, hoping you didn’t just sentence yourself to death.

And it did feel like a death sentence walking past all the goblins.  But it was a little exciting, too.  The heavy beat of your heart couldn’t decide if it was from dread or a morbid interest in the creatures that barely came to your waist.  While still in sight of your companions nobody said a word to you.  You think the entire journey is going to be silent when a goblin shouts, “Hold up, eh?”

You and the guards halt, turning to the source of the voice.  Sazza.  She eyes you, but she isn’t what you’re wary of right now.  Beside her floats the scrying eye.

When the game says looking at it is like falling into an inky black pool, it’s not wrong.  You waver a moment as the hairs on the back of your neck raise, the feeling of being watched coming over you.  But it’s a different kind of watch than the goblins, more predatory.  If that was possible.

“What d’ya want?” one escort says.

“This thing flew right over when it saw this one,” Sazza explains with a wave at you.  “Guess it likes ya.  I should probably say thanks by the way, for takin’ the arrow.”

She doesn’t actually thank you.  

The scrying eye spins around you, floating up and down as if taking stock of you, kind of like when Gale first came out of the portal.  Was it interested in your coat, too?  Soon enough it stays in front of your face, examining your features.  You don’t have an option menu before you, and with a waver in your voice you say, “Uh, hello?”

The eye vibrates, or shakes, or maybe it shivers.  

“S’weird,” Sazza says, watching the eye.  Nobody can disagree with that.

“C’mon,” your other escort says.  “Don’t care if that things watchin’, gotta get the prisoner downstairs.”

They begin to lead you towards the worg pens and the eye follows you.  The only reason it leaves your side it when the door to the pens slams shut before it can get inside.

Taglist:

@half-poison-and-half-hope @sanscas @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @thequeen-oni @terrenuserinj @straewberrysoda @theomnipotentfox @becksynthetic @quitecontrary-to-mary @furblrwurblr @mega-trash-cringe @fandomsbookclub @dontneedbiologytoadopt @pebble-bb @v3lv3tvampir3 @mrow-kat @jeneralmischief @notsaelty @runaway-17 @aoirohi

#reborn into bg3 #reborn into baldur's gate 3 with no memory and plenty of money #astarion x reader #gale x reader #slow burn #we'll get to romance things soon I promise #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #bg3 fanfic #fanfic #reader insert #gender neutral reader

[tkwrites]

The Second Time Is Better - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photos from Pinterest

Title: The Second Time is Better

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn x Sarah

Warnings: fluffy smut (18+ only), penetration, talks of anxiety and under performing

Summary: Sequel to Love Me Gently, Quinn and Sarah have sex for the first time. After a disappointing first performance, they're in for an experience much deeper than either one expected. 

Word count: 1,400

The Second Time is Better

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

The walk to the bathroom was the most embarrassing part. Not only were his legs wobbly from coming, but he hadn’t lasted more than two strokes. Sure, he hadn’t slept with someone in a while, and he hadn’t slept with someone he really liked in… well, he wasn’t sure he’d ever liked anyone as much as he liked Sarah. 

Seeing her naked along with being inside her for the first time was too much, and he'd lost it nearly as soon as he’d started. 

Breathing slowly to calm down, he cleaned himself up, thinking through what he was going to say when he went back to her.  

Sarah had pulled up the covers, resting them under her arms. Just the sight of her in his bed made his knees want to buckle. 

Self conscious, he walked from the bathroom and slid under the covers. He lay on his back, mirroring her posture. 

He was just opening his mouth to say something when her hand found his, lacing their fingers together. It was such an unexpected, sweet gesture, Quinn lost his coherent train of thought. It took him a few moments to get it back. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, staring at the light fixture. 

The sheets rustled, “for what?” 

He felt like a fool of epic proportions as he glanced at her. Did she not even care? She had this peaceful look on her face, like she wasn’t disappointed at all. 

“For,” he gestured with his free hand, “for my two stroke performance there.” 

She giggled, “Quinn, it was our first time. I know this may disappoint you, but I didn’t expect a whole lot. The first time is always a sham with someone new. From everything else we've done so far, I know you’ll listen to what I need and it’ll get better.” 

And just like that, his anxiety blew away. Some of it lingered, of course. Some of it always lingered, but it wasn't so embarrassingly suffocating. 

He blew out a breath, “how are you so perfect?” 

She laughed, “I am not perfect. I’ve just learned to have realistic expectations.” 

He rolled on his side, and pulled her closer with their clasped hands. “See what I mean? Perfect.” 

Their lips met in a soft kiss. 

Soon enough, he was back on top of her, reaching into his nightstand for another condom. 

When he pushed into her, engaging in some mental coaching to stay steady and not get too excited, he moaned around a deep exhale. 

“You feel so good,” he managed to say. 

Had he even said anything before, or had he been too wrapped up in his own head?

Sarah’s fuck it attitude was back. She wanted to touch and memorize him so badly. She had with her past two boyfriends too, but always held back, worried that her intensity would scare them away. Quinn had proved all of her fuck it feelings unwarranted thus far, so she leaned into them, watching his unfocused eyes as her fingers brushed over his chiseled cheekbone. 

Quinn’s eyes snapped to hers. He found her studying him like a work of art, her hand gently moving to trace his jaw. 

When their gazes locked, it knocked the breath out of him in a way that had nothing to do with her warm, tight heat. He’d never made eye contact like this during sex. This was intimate. Intimate in a way that made him realize he’d never fully understood the meaning of the word before. 

Captivated, he found he couldn't look away.  

The reality of Quinn really seeing her intensity made Sarah blush on top of the sensual flush in her skin. She’d never made eye contact like this during sex either. She didn’t think he was pulling away, but she felt like she still had to brace for the consequences.

“Sorry,” she said, quietly, not looking away.  

“For what?” 

One of her shoulders shrugged up. “I just wanted to remember this - and you,” she said, gently moving a lock of his hair off his forehead. 

Quinn had never felt so desired before - in every sense of the word. Sarah saw him, not just as a body, or an athlete, or a bank account, but as Quinn. She saw it all and still wanted him. 

He sputtered, “you don’t have to apologize for that.” 

She smiled, shyly, and he wanted to give her the world. The world on a silver platter. That wouldn’t happen (at least not right then), so he supposed he would settle for giving her an orgasm. 

“What do you need?” he asked, voice soft. 

She bit her lip, watching him for a while longer, memorizing the slack set of his jaw, and the way his Adam's apple moved in his throat. 

“Can I be on top?” she asked. 

He didn’t mean to, but a groaned laugh still fell out of his mouth. “Like you need to ask.” 

Carefully flipping them over, he settled as she adjusted, taking him a little deeper. 

Their eyes were still locked together as Sarah leaned forward slightly, gently rocking her clit against his pelvis. Quick bolts of pleasure raced into her veins. Her eyelids grew heavy, but she didn’t look away. 

It was easier for Quinn to hold on this time. He was able to brace himself. He let watching her take over most of his mind, no longer fixating on how tight she was, or how good she felt. Those thoughts were still there, of course - there was no way he could avoid them - but the forefront of his thoughts were caught on her delicate face, the gentle jostle of her breasts as she rocked into him and how much he liked her. It didn’t hurt that she wasn’t moving fast enough to send him over the cliff.

"Quinn," she moaned. 

That might do it. He bit his lip to distract himself. 

"Quinn, touch me."

His hands swept up her sides, and covered her breasts. 

She moaned, letting the sensations in her body take hold. The comfortable feeling she got with Quinn made her so much less self conscious. She didn't think about what she looked like as much when she was with him. It had been a long time - perhaps this was the only time - since she'd felt that way. It was such a relief to just be. 

Without that distraction, her orgasm raced to her quicker than with any other partner. 

Bracing her hands on his chest, she kept rocking, marveling at how much better it felt to clench around his hard, hot length than what they had done before. The pleasure kept coming and coming, rolling through her in waves. 

Quinn moaned. It didn't matter that she was rocking slowly. The way her back arched, pushing her chest into his hands along with the rhythmic pulses of her orgasm felt like heaven. Hell, she could even stay stock still except for that pulsing desire, and he would have no choice but to come. 

"Sarah," he moaned. 

It was the hottest thing she'd ever heard. She loved how much Quinn used her name instead of a pet name, as if he was making sure she knew who was making him feel this way. 

"Fuck, Sarah, I'm gonna…" his words fell away as his climax finally triggered. 

His hands slid to her hips of their own accord, gripping, holding her steady as he sought his last traces of pleasure. 

Finally spent, Sarah collapsed on him, chest to chest, her hair spilling over his shoulder. His arms draped around her waist.

After a few moments of their skin pressing together with each ragged inhale, she caught her breath and pushed herself up. 

“Stay,” Quinn said, tensing his arms around her. 

A smile crept over her mouth and Sarah adjusted, shifting slightly so he slipped out and she could lay her head on the front of his shoulder. 

“See,” she said, lips brushing the side of his neck, “I told you it would get better.”

He chuffed a laugh, “you did, and you were right.” 

A pause passed in their conversation for so long, Sarah wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Just as she was convinced he had, his fingers started a slow, soft journey up her back. 

“It’s never been like this before.” 

Despite the fact that they were the only ones in his apartment, his voice was so quiet, only someone draped over him would hear. 

“Like what?” she whispered.

She was feeling the same way, but wanted to know what he was thinking. 

Like love, he thought, but didn’t dare say out loud. “It’s never been so-” he paused, trying to articulate his feelings, finding there was only one way.

“I never knew why they called it making love until you."

Nuzzling his neck, she murmured, “I know exactly what you mean.” 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

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