#but i need to go downstairs and make breakfast soon which is the REAL first hurdle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

callsignspark · 9 months

Note

Bradley and Mary

straddling your partner's thighs

look at what you've done, anon. I've gone and written something ridiculously long.

send me a physical intimacy prompt for any of my Dagger, Sword & Shield couples!

your lap is my safe place - part i

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, uterine cancer (discussions of a terminal illness and treatment), death due to cancer (established universe death), grief over losing a parent, funerals, panic attacks, vomiting, you don’t need to read Mar[r]y Me to read and understand this but you should anyway

word count: 7.1k

part ii - coming soon

note: originally, this was supposed to be a short, simple prompt answer - one part sad and one part smutty - but it's gotten extremely out of hand due to my inability to be brief. so this is part one (the sad part), and the smutty sequel will be coming (ha) sometime early next week. and when I say this part is sad, I mean sad. some of this is very much based on my experience with loved ones who have had cancer and/or were terminally ill. it was very therapeutic to write, even if I did cry a whole lot.

Tuesday, September 3, 2002 | 06:35 A.M.

Bradley wakes up to his alarm clock blaring in his ear, feeling like he’s going to throw up, which is weird for him. Mav says that he’s never met anyone with a stronger stomach. Eighteen-year-olds have stomachs of steel, his mom jokes when she’s having a good day.

He stumbles down the hall and hangs his head over the toilet. Nothing comes up. The nausea goes away in a few minutes, but his gut still feels twisted. He brushes his teeth and decides the likely culprit is the new recipe Mav attempted for dinner last night. He choked down a few bites of the horrible fish tacos before his uncle called it a failure and ordered pizza.

Back in his room, it doesn’t take him long to finish getting ready, pulling on his new first-day-of-school outfit and shaping his mustache. He doesn’t care what Slider says; it’s looking good, much thicker than when he started growing it in April.

“It’s my first day of senior year, my last first day of school. Until the academy, anyway. But with the summer training, the first day of classes probably won’t even feel like a first day.”

His father’s official Lieutenant-JG portrait stares back at him. Unanswering as he fixes his hair.

“Mom is getting worse… She’s getting weaker; I don’t think we have very long before she has to go into hospice. I really want her to get better - I wished for it - but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

He swallows hard and fights back tears, remembering his birthday just a few months ago. Everything hadn’t seemed quite as bad then as it is now.

“I hope she can make it to Christmas. I almost have enough money saved up to buy her that pair of earrings that look like the ones Princess Diana had at her wedding. They’re not real pearls like hers, obviously, but the lady at the jewelry counter told me they’re replicas, so I think she’ll like them anyway.”

Brown eyes identical to his own stare back at him. Hints of the mischievous, prank-loving man visible in the polite smile captured. The old photo is carefully tucked into the edge of his mirror; it was his mom’s first, but she gave it to him when he was eight. She had caught him staring at it every day for a week, quietly talking to it about his day.

“Wish me luck, Goose. It’s gonna be a big year.”

Downstairs, he’s greeted with the second weird thing of the day. First, his stomach, and now his mom is flipping pancakes. She’s hardly had the strength to use the bathroom by herself in the last six months, but this morning, she’s standing at the stove, singing along to the radio, and making his favorite breakfast.

She’s always said that bad things happen in threes, but strange things happen in pairs.

He thinks she might be right, but if she feels good, he’s not complaining. She never feels good anymore.

“There he is! Oh, Mav! Look at my baby boy, all grown up and ready for his last year of high school!”

“Ma…” He groans, and without prompting, he bends down to let her kiss and pinch his cheeks like he always does.

He’s not sure how many good days she has left, so he tries his best to behave and make her life easier.

He doesn't complain when she asks him to take the garbage out after he already did; her memory hasn’t been as good since she got sick. He keeps the anger inside when everyone forgets his baseball games because she had chemo; it’s more important for Mav and Ice to take care of her than to watch him throw a ball around. He even offered up his college fund to help pay for another round of treatment. He was denied before he could even finish the suggestion, but he just wants her to get better more than anything in the world.

Needs her to get better.

She sets a stack of pancakes in front of him, and again, he has the urge to cry when she kisses the top of his head. Her perfume takes over his senses, and if he closes his eyes, it’s almost like he’s little again.

A massive stack of fluffy, perfectly round pancakes, slathered in butter and syrup, filled with his mom’s love.

Mav sitting across the table from him, drinking the worst black coffee to exist on the planet.

His mom humming off-key at the stove, her beautiful, golden hair swishing as she gets into a song.

But then he opens his eyes, and he’s not little anymore.

The pancakes are still covered with butter and enough syrup to give him a cavity, but they’re not the same. They’re flat and mishappen; her arms aren’t very strong anymore, so Mav must’ve had to help her.

Mav still sits across from him, terrible black coffee in his mug, but now he looks old. Too old for someone in his thirties. They’ve been lucky he’s been able to be here this past year. After Mom got sick, Ice and Viper pulled some strings to get him assigned to a shore-duty desk job. Bradley knows he hates it. Can see it in the way he watches every plane that passes overhead - civilian, military, it doesn’t matter - his fingers twitching to be the one controlling the powerful engines. But he never complains, is steady and strong, taking Mom to appointments and Bradley to school.

His mom is humming at the stove for the first time in a long time, somehow more in tune than she’s ever been. He wants to make a joke about how the treatments must have fixed her tone-deafness, but it would just make everyone sad. A reminder that it’s the only thing her treatment has fixed.

It’s taken everything else away.

Her skin, once bright and youthful, is now dull and gray-toned. Her energy has been zapped; she doesn’t even have it in her to make it through their Sunday movie nights. Her body is frail. She was always slim, but now she borders on gaunt, her appetite nonexistent most of the time. Her hair was the first thing to go, a rotation of brightly colored scarfs and hats replacing the blonde strands that used to reach her shoulders. He looks at today’s choice. A bright red scarf that matches the white sundress and red cardigan she’s pulled on.

She looks pretty.

“You look pretty, mom.”

It grabs the attention of both adults, the two of them staring long enough that he squirms in his chair.

“Thank you, baby.” Her pleased smile tells him it was the right thing to say. “You don’t want your pancakes?”

“I do. They look great, but my stomach kinda hurt when I got up, so I don’t want to eat right now. I’m sorry. If you put them in the fridge, I can eat them for dinner.”

“Oh, don’t be silly! It’s a special day; we’re going to have something special for dinner! Something that Mav won’t be making.” The teasing smile she sends to the table makes the knot in his stomach unwind some. It makes him feel good enough to take a small bite.

The shape is wrong, and they’re not fluffy enough, but the taste is the same. The flavor melts over his tongue. The pressure in his chest, the one that showed up around the same time as his mom’s cancer diagnosis, lightens a little bit.

I should fake sick and stay home.

The thought comes out of left field, but he’s immediately on board. She hasn’t had a good day in forever, and he doesn’t want to miss it. Who knows when the next one will come. If there will even be another good day. He wants to spend time with his mom while she knows what’s happening.

“My stomach hurts; I don’t think I can go to school.” He groans and grabs his stomach, trying to look as pathetic as possible to sell his story.

He’s forgotten how sharp his mom is, how well she knows him. “Nice try, honey. You were fine two seconds ago, and you’re not missing your first day of senior year. Now, c’mon! It’s photo time!”

Carole is marching towards the front door before he can argue, so he tries to sway Mav in his favor. But the dark-haired man just shakes his head and avoids eye contact, grabbing the camera off the counter. Bradley stands in the middle of the kitchen, the knot retwisting itself.

He suddenly realizes that his upset stomach has nothing to do with yesterday’s tilapia trying to get its revenge and everything to do with what he overheard in the waiting room during his mom’s last checkup.

“I know, I heard. Isn’t it terrible? He'd been sick for a while, but it seemed like he was getting better. He even took his kids on a bike ride, and then - BAM! - he was gone the next day!”

“Oh, that happens a lot with people who are sick for a long time. Toward the end, they get this sudden burst of energy. It’s like God’s way of giving a happy memory to them and their loved ones. Letting them have one last good day before they go.”

He’s actually going to throw up this time.

Bradley drags his feet all the way to the front door, delaying his departure as much as possible. He doesn’t want to leave, but he knows he’s not going to win any fight against her right now - he’s going to school, come hell or high water. And he doesn’t want to fight with his mom; instead, he chooses to commit the moment to memory.

The gentle touch of her hands as she fusses with his hair, making sure it’s just right before any photos.

The brightness of her smile, how it’s the one thing that’s never dimmed despite everything she’s gone through.

The teasing barbs she exchanges with Mav, the man who has been family to her for longer than Bradley has been alive.

He looks at Mav, the man who has done his best to help raise him. Tried so hard to be a fatherly figure in place of the man who was lost too soon. Mav looks tired, Bradley wonders if he’s thinking the same thing as him.

She’s going. She’s going, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

Just like every year since kindergarten, they squish together on the porch, his mom wrapping her arm around his waist. He thinks about how she used to have to squat down so their heads were together. Now, she’d have to go on her tiptoes, and he’d have to crouch down for that to happen.

He knows his smile looks fake; he has to force himself because this might be the last photo he gets with his mom, and that makes him sad beyond words. Carole quickly fixes that, tickling his side on that one spot that always gets him. He giggles and tries to squirm away, his smile turning happy and real as she laughs at him.

“You’re just like your father; he was ticklish in the exact same spot.”

Even the talk of Goose doesn’t bring them down like it usually does. Today, it lifts everyone’s spirit to realize how much he’s like the father he didn’t get to know.

After Mav has taken an ungodly number of photos, Bradley asks for the camera and stands next to his uncle. He snaps photo after photo of his mom, hoping that if he takes enough, he won’t ever be able to forget this moment. Then he shuffles Mav on the porch and takes photos of the pseudo-siblings. He rearranges them one last time, setting the camera on the porch railing and hitting the timer.

He doesn’t know it yet, but that photo of the three of them standing in the yard with the Bronco just visible in the background will be the last photo taken of his mother. As an adult, it will be tied for first place with five others as his favorite photo of all time.

After the last flash, Carole pulls him close. “I am so proud of you, Bradley. Your dad would be so proud of you. You’re such a good boy. I love you so much.”

He hugs her tighter than he should; he can’t help it. The little gasp she lets out at the intensity of his hug makes him feel a bit guilty, but he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t want to let her go.

“I know, honey. I know. It’s okay.” She tries to soothe her baby, who isn’t a baby anymore. He’s a full-grown man who is so much smarter and wiser than any 18-year-old should ever be. He’s been through so much more than any kid should ever have to go through. She feels bad about how quickly he’s had to grow up. “Everything is gonna be okay.”

No, it’s not going to be okay. But he holds back his tears because he doesn’t want her to cry when she’s having a good day. He reluctantly lets go and slips on his sunglasses - aviators, just like Goose - before heading for his car, knowing that if he doesn’t go now, he’ll never be able to make himself leave.

With his stomach in even more knots than he thought possible, Bradley heads off to school, waving as he pulls out of the driveway. Trying to burn the image of his mom waving, one hand on her hip as Mav nudges her and makes her laugh.

From the moment he parks the Bronco in the seniors-only lot, the entire school day feels like torture. He can’t even enjoy the beginning of his senior year, something he had been waiting for.

Senior year means graduation. Graduation means going to college. College means packing his stuff for Annapolis. Annapolis means he can finally start working on his dream.

He’ll learn how to be an aviator while roaming the same halls as Goose while he learns the ins and outs of aeronautical engineering. He might even be lucky enough to get placed in the same dorm room. Being an aviator means he’ll be just like his father. And Mav. And Ice. And Slider. And all of his other uncles from the class of '86. But he can’t bring himself to be excited like usual.

Instead, he’s on edge the entire day. Waiting to get called to the nurse’s office. They all had agreed as a family - Bradley, Carole, Mav, and Ice - that if she passed when he was at school, they would have the front office call him down to the nurse’s office. Ice would pick him up, Mav likely busy dealing with the doctors and the funeral home and everything.

He can barely eat the lunch his mom packed. A peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich, cut into triangles like when he was little. Chips, cucumber slices, and a chocolate chip cookie round out the meal. He tosses most of the food but is careful to keep the little note she had put in the brown paper bag.

I love you, Bradley. You’re going to do great things.

He presses it between the pages of his calculus textbook before he goes to gym, making sure he doesn’t bend the pink sticky note, preserving her swirly handwriting as best he can.

Finally, the bell signaling the end of the eighth period rings. Relief washes through his body. There’s been no call from the nurse, and his school day is over. He hastily packs his bookbag and practically skips towards the parking lot, waving at some friends still in class. He’s one got free period during ninth period, and as a senior, he gets to leave early if he has no class.

He’s planning his route home - he wants to stop at the corner store to grab a treat for his mom - when he skids to a stop where the concrete sidewalk meets asphalt.

Ice is leaning against the bumper of the Bronco.

“Happy birthday, Bradley!” His mom yells before blowing a kazoo.

He couldn’t be happier. It’s his birthday, his mom is having a good day, and he just got the keys to the Bronco. It’s officially his, just like he always dreamed it would be.

“Your dad’s dream was for you two to fix it up together and give it to you on your eighteenth birthday,” Mav explained. “I know I can’t replace him, but we had a good time working on it, right?”

Bradley nods and hugs his uncle. Mav will never be his actual dad, but he’s the closest thing he has to one. He helped raise him. He had sacrificed so many weekends to spend time with him, showing him how to fix the Bronco or throw a football with a perfect spiral. He’d even taken him on motorcycle rides, but they agreed not to tell Mom about that.

“Okay, knock it off, you saps. It’s time to blow out your candles, Baby Goose!” Slider enters the dining room, looking ridiculous with a crooked party hat on his head. He’s concentrating hard to balance a cake that’s much too big for the six people in attendance at his birthday dinner.

It’s set in front of Bradley, and he laughs when he sees the cake is covered in little plane toys. It looks like a cake made for a little kid, and he loves it. Aunt Sarah lights his candles and starts singing. He sits there for 30 seconds, watching his family sing off-key and thinking about how he loves his family so much his heart hurts.

“Okay, baby! Close your eyes and make a wish!” Carole smooths a hand over his hair.

He smiles up at her. “Only if you help me, ma.”

She bends down, doing a quick countdown before they close their eyes and blow out the candles together. For the first time in years, Bradley actually makes a wish.

Please don’t let my mom die. I need her.

Ice is talking to Slider, who’s parked in his white Jeep, and even from this distance, he can tell they’ve been crying.

Slider has obviously given Ice a ride to school, and now they’re waiting for him. If Ice doesn’t have his truck, that means he’s going to be driving Bradley. And that can only mean one thing.

She’s gone. My wish didn’t come true.

His backpack hits the ground at the same time as his knees, and he throws up. It’s not a lot; he’s barely eaten today, and by the time his uncles reach him - their feet pounding on the pavement - he’s just sobbing and dry heaving into the grass.

“Breathe, Bradley. You gotta breathe, buddy.” He can’t tell which one is talking; blood is rushing in his ears, and he just keeps crying.

“Bradley.” It’s Ice, holding his face up. “Listen to me. Your mom is not dead. Do you hear me? She’s not gone. But she had to be taken to the hospital; we’re still waiting for the test results. We’re gonna go there right now, but you need to breathe first, okay? You gotta breathe.”

He does his best to stop crying and take in air. His body literally shudders on the first breath, his lungs greedily sucking in the oxygen. After a few breaths, a water bottle is shoved in front of his face. He doesn’t even know where it came from, but he drinks, his throat raw.

Slider pops a mint into his mouth before helping him stand. “It’ll help your throat and your stomach.”

He races to the car, throwing the keys to Ice, who almost drops them. Both adults speed out of the parking lot, heading directly for the hospital.

Halfway there Ice has a chilling realization. The car is silent. If he’s learned anything in the last twenty-odd years, it’s that a car ride involving a Bradshaw is never silent. There’s always talking and laughing. Usually, you can count on singing and bad seat dancing, but today, it’s silent. There’s not even the sound of crying. And when he looks over at Bradley, he’s startled to find him catatonically staring out the windshield, his face bone dry. He looks like a statue, and it freaks Ice out how quickly he’s shut down. He hasn’t attended Sunday service in a long time, doesn’t even know if he believes in a higher power, but at that moment, he sends off prayers to every deity he can name, hoping that one of them can pull off a miracle for the boy who’s already dealt with so much.

It’s even worse at the hospital, Slider nabbing the spot next to them seconds after Ice shifts into park. The three of them hurry towards the ICU, where a nurse lets them all in after she hears who they’re visiting. Technically, only Bradley and Pete meet the requirements to be allowed in, but the entire ward is aware of the situation and are prepared to let as many people visit as needed.

Bradley freezes halfway to Carole’s room, Slider almost running him over. A priest is walking out of her room. He shakes hands with Mav and somberly nods at the frozen trio when he passes.

Mav watches as his best friends gently nudge his godson forward. His heart feels like it’s splitting in two as tears start streaming down Bradley’s face. A face that looks so old and so young at the same time. Maverick feels like he’s watching his 18-year-old nephew transform into the little boy who just lost his dad. His lower lip trembles just like it used to when he would fall and scrap his knee. Except this time, there’s nothing Mav can do to make it better. There’s no antibacterial spray, no Spiderman band-aid, no over-dramatic kiss with magical healing powers. This time, there’s only a young man who’s now taller than him. He stands in the doorway with red eyes and a mustache that makes him look so much like Goose.

“What happened?” Bradley croaks, afraid to enter the room. He hates the way his mom looks when she’s hooked up to all those machines. The beeping hurts his ears. “Why was the priest in here?”

“I don’t know, kid. We were about to eat lunch, and she collapsed. The doctors don’t know either; the test results didn’t show anything that’s telling them what’s going on. Everything is just suddenly worse.” Mav gets choked up; he can hardly continue. “They uh- they said this is probably it. That we should say our goodbyes. That’s why I had the priest come in. When we talked about her final wishes a while ago, she made me promise she would get her last rites.”

Bradley tackles him in a hug before he finishes talking. They cry together, mourning the loss that hasn’t happened yet.

The four of them have been sitting in silence for hours, listening to the beep of the heart monitor, when Bradley speaks up from his post beside his mom. “What else does she want? I know she wants to be buried next to Goose, but what else? She didn’t tell me.”

“She wants yellow carnations in her arrangements. Her wedding band stays with her, just like Goose, but her engagement ring goes to you. She wants to be wearing that blue dress she wore when she first met your dad.”

“That’s it?”

“There are a few more legal things, like with the house and the cars, but that’s laid out in her will. She made me promise I’ll take care of you, which I was always going to do no matter what.”

And she made me promise I’ll never let you fly.

Mav doesn’t add that final promise to the list; it’s not the right time for that conversation. He’s not sure it’ll ever be the right time.

Carole can feel herself getting weaker, but today is a good day; she feels good. Strong.

“Peter Howard Mitchell! Listen to me, you stupid, stubborn, obnoxious jackass! We don’t have a lot of time before Bradley gets back, and we need to talk about this!”

Bradley had felt guilty about leaving to go to the movies with Tessa Richardson, but Carole had insisted - he’d had a crush on that girl for years. It was about time he had his first kiss. And she was 95% certain it was going to happen today. Her motherly instincts were tingling.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Carole! I’m sick of every conversation we have being about you dying!”

“You think I like talking about it? Knowing that I’m leaving behind my little boy?” She gets in his face, yelling with every ounce of strength she can summon. “You think I like knowing that my body is giving up? That I’m dying? I can feel it happening, Pete! I can feel myself drifting away! And nothing the doctors are doing is helping! I know that it’s scaring Bradley, scaring you, but it’s scaring me most of all!”

Maverick catches her, and they sink to the ground; she sobs in his arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry; I’m so sorry, Carole. What do you need me to do?”

“Bradley can’t fly.” She pulls back, wiping her eyes. “He can’t fly for the Navy, Pete. I know he wants to, but you can’t let him.”

“But Carole, it’s his dream to-”

“To die just like his father?” Her words shock him. “I love Nick more than anything, Pete, you know that. But do you know what I would do to have him here with us today? Do you realize I’ve lived three times as long without my husband than I did with him? It’s been fifteen years - almost sixteen. I only knew Nick for five, and we were only married for three before he was gone. I would do anything to have Bradley know his father.”

“Care…”

“You’ve been incredible, Mav. You’ve done your best to be a father to him; he loves you so much. I love you so much; you’re my best friend. But I've missed my husband every day for the last fifteen years. He was the love of my life, and I miss him so much my heart hurts. I’m not going to be here, but I can’t stand the thought of the same thing happening to Bradley. I won’t let that happen to my baby. So, you have to promise me, Pete. Promise me you won’t let him fly.”

They sit on the floor in silence, staring at each other. The internal debate roars inside Maverick, hurting his chest. He loves the Bradshaws more than anything. He would do anything for them. He still feels guilty about his best friend’s death, knows it was his fault, even if the investigation said he was innocent. The guilt of Goose being gone eats away at him, little by little each day.

Carole is right.

He can’t - he won’t - lose Bradley the same way.

“I promise I’ll do my best to keep him out of the air. But Carole, he’s almost an adult. Soon, there won’t be much I can do to control him. I can’t stop him from applying to the Academy or joining the Navy.”

“Yes, you can. Get Ice to pull some strings, indebt yourself to Viper. Do whatever you have to do. Do everything you can to protect him, Pete.” Her voice is cold and emotionless, knowing it will destroy her son, but at least he’ll be alive.

It was the one and only time they had talked about it, but every time Bradley excitedly talked about his future, Carole would look at him with this face that made Mav feel awful. It’s her request, but he was going to be the reason Bradley’s dreams were crushed.

Mav leans over in his chair, guilt and hopelessness consuming his body. The knowledge that his godson was about to be more like him in all the ways he never wanted.

Orphaned. Mother dying, with a broken heart, years after his father was killed while flying.

Denied entrance to the Naval Academy due to something beyond his control.

“She doesn’t want anything else?”

“No.”

It’s the last word spoken. A lie.

Slider and Ice spend the night just outside the door in some extra chairs an orderly had been kind enough to scrounge up. Mav shifts between standing at Carole’s side to hold her hand and sitting ramrod straight at the foot of her bed.

Bradley stays by his mom’s side the entire night, clutching her left hand. He plays with her wedding band, twisting it around her finger like he used to when he was little. He thinks about how different everything is going to be. He’s going to be alone a lot more now. He’s legally an adult, so when Mav gets deployed or transferred, there won’t be a need to scramble to make sure he’s taken care of. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do with the house or if it’s even his to worry about. Mav, Ice, and his mom had taken care of the legal stuff without him. He wonders if Slider would loan him some money so he can get those earrings. She won’t be able to appreciate them, but he still wants her to have them. It’s the last thing he’ll be able to do for her. They’ll go nice with her blue dress, he thinks. He sits there and thinks. He’s there the whole time.

He’s there, wide awake, when Carole takes her last breath at 3:14 AM on September 4th. He’s there when the doctor comes in to declare her dead; he shakes Bradley’s hand, giving him the first of the thousand condolences that will follow. He’s there when the nurse comes in to turn off the monitors and unhook the IVs; she gently asks if he wants to leave while she cleans his mom up, but he refuses. He doesn’t have a lot of time left before he’ll never see her again; he can’t waste any time. He’s there for another hour, trying to say his goodbyes through sobs. He’s there until his uncles drag him out, promising him that he’ll see her again before the funeral. He’s still there, mentally, when he goes to sleep at Uncle Tom’s house. He and Pete are sleeping over, neither of them ready to face the house.

He’s there three days later, shyly asking the funeral director if it would be too much trouble to change his mom’s earrings. When he asked Uncle Ron about the money, he put them both in the car, drove to the mall, and paid for the earrings without question. The two of them hugged for a long time before they went home. He’s there at the viewing, next to his mother’s casket for hours, numbingly accepting condolences and hugs from hundreds of people. The one bright spot is being reminded how many people loved his mom. How wonderful she was to everyone she met.

He’s there at the graveside service, the first to place a rose on the polished wood. He stays there once it ends, refusing to leave, watching as the casket is lowered and the hole is filled with dirt. He’s there to place a bouquet of yellow carnations, her favorite, on top of the fresh earth. He pats the dual gravestone, one half still blank, before he lets Mav pull him to the car. He looks back one last time, and as the sunshine dries his tears, he swears he can hear his parents' laughter in the wind.

As an adult, now with two dead parents and one estranged, he’s there every year that he’s not deployed. He clears away any weeds and leaves before placing a bouquet of yellow carnations on the gravestone that now bears two names. Sometimes, there’s a single red rose already there when he arrives. Those are the years he knows Mav beat him to saying hello. He’s there for hours at a time, sitting with his parents and eating a bag of trail mix with extra M&Ms added - Goose’s favorite.

The first year that he and Mary are together, he’s there alone. He trusts her implicitly, and she knows the whole story. He told her what happened with Mav and everything that followed; it was a conversation they had early on. But this is something too raw, too personal, to share so soon in a relationship. He’s spent so many years doing this by himself that he’s not sure how he would handle having another person with him. Even if it was someone he loves so much.

Mary understands.

“Of course, you understand, you’re perfect.”

“I’m not perfect, Bradley. I just care about your feelings.”

“You’re perfect for me.” He kisses her before she can protest. “Thank you for caring about me.”

The day of, she kisses him softly as he leaves, pushing a sandwich bag of trail mix into his hand. Her only ask is to tell her when he gets home safe if he needs space, letting him know that her house is always open if he doesn’t want to spend the night alone.

He spends that first year catching them up. Now that he’s stationed in San Diego, it’s easier to visit more often, but several things have happened since his last stop. Usually, he talks for a bit and then sits in silence, choosing to reminisce on the happy memories. This time, he spends most of the time talking. Telling his parents about Mav, the shenanigans of the Dagger Squad, about Mary. He tells them all about Mary. How much he loves her, how he hasn’t said it yet because it’s only officially been two months, how he’s pretty sure she can tell anyway. He goes on and on about her eyes, her kindness, her intelligence.

“I love her so much; I’m going to marry her.” He blurts it out, a small gasp following his declaration to the etched granite stone. It’s not the first time he’s had the thought, but it’s the first time he’s said it out loud. And now he can’t stop thinking about it.

Mary in a white dress with a veil sitting on her pretty brown hair, a gold band on her ring finger. The two of them committing themselves to each other in front of all their loved ones. Twirling her around the dance floor to their song, dipping her at the end to kiss her and make her blush. Everything that would follow. A house. A dog. A few kids. Diapers and dance recitals to gray hair and wrinkles.

“Holy shit… I’m going to marry her.” The breeze ruffles his hair, and he knows it’s his parents. “Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll make sure we’re married before I get her pregnant, unlike you two.”

He decides to stay the night at Mary’s, feeling better than he ever has on this day. He goes to find her the moment he enters the house, using the key she recently gave him. She’s on her office floor, organizing her bookshelf, when he presses himself against her, devouring her in a kiss. Bradley’s added weight throws her off balance, and the two of them topple over, sprawled in the paperbacks.

When he finally pulls back, he’s pleased to see that she’s flushed and her chest is heaving.

“I’m not complaining, but what was that?”

“I’ve never had someone to come home to after visiting them; I’ve always done it alone.” He talks into her neck, enjoying the way her fingers tighten in his hair when his lips brush her skin. “I’m just really thankful I have you.”

“Oh, Bradley…” Mary doesn’t know what to say. She loves this man so much, and she knows it’s too soon to say that, so she shows him. The night ends with a shower and papercuts in places where papercuts should never happen.

The day sneaks up on him the second year they’re together. They’ve been busy; between work, helping Jake with his surprise, and preparing to move in together, August went by in a blink. It leaves him with no time to mentally prepare.

Bradley jolts awake, sweat covering his temples and his heart thumping. It’s the worst nightmare he’s had in months. It was a twisted mess of awful moments. Some real, some imagined. Reliving his mother’s death but worse, almost dying on the uranium mission, losing Mary to cancer, same as his mom. He woke up just as a doctor was telling him she was gone and he wasn’t allowed to see her.

“No, sir, I’m sorry, but you can’t go back there. Her husband doesn’t want anyone else back there. You’ll have to wait for the funeral… if you’re even allowed in, asshole.”

He whips the covers off and trips his way to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before his dinner makes a return trip. The commotion wakes Mary, and she quickly makes her way to him, finding him laying on the floor, his shirt whipped into the tub.

His chest is so tight it hurts. He can’t believe he’s having a panic attack. He hasn’t had a full-on panic attack in years. There’s been anxiety, moments where he can’t easily catch his breath and his heart beating faster than it should, but nothing like this. He feels like he’s drenched in sweat, his heart is pounding, and he can’t breathe.

“Bradley? Look at me, sweetie.”

Mary.

“Can you look at me, Bradley?” He can hardly see through the tears. “I know it’s hard because you’re crying so hard, but look at me.”

It takes all his strength to turn his head, but he does it because he knows she’s worried.

“There you are. Okay, baby, I need you to breathe with me.”

He’s not exactly sure how she does it, but she helps him calm down. His body listens to her instructions before his brain realizes.

It takes a while, but he can breathe normally again. She helps him sit up, propping himself against the tub and letting his head fall back. He hears the sink run before there’s a soft touch on his shoulder.

“Gonna touch you, that okay?” He nods, appreciative of how considerate she is, always thinking of him.

Mary gently wipes his face, cleaning it of tears and sweat before brushing the washcloth over his arms and chest. It helps ground him, feeling more inside his body than before.

“What time is it?” Bradley rasps as she rinses the cloth.

“Late. Or early, depending on how you want to think about it.” She peeks out of the door, checking the time. Her face is somber when she comes back to him. “It’s 3:20, honey.”

“Twenty years… she’s been gone for twenty years.” He reaches for her, and she easily complies, straddling his thighs when he tugs her hand.

They sit in silence, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms.

“I had a nightmare.” He starts, answering her silent question. “It was her death and the uranium mission back-to-back, losing her and then him.”

She hums, encouraging him to continue. She doesn’t know the details of that mission - her clearance level is high but not that high - but she knows that he and Mav barely made it back. Both of them brushing hands with death multiple times.

They have nightmares. Less frequently now that they’re a few years down the road, but they still happen. Mav dreams that he doesn’t save them, that one of the bogeys gets them before Hangman reaches them. Bradley’s feature him missing the helicopter, having to watch Mav bleed out.

“Then it was you. You were sick. It was the same thing as Mom, uterine cancer. And I couldn’t even say goodbye. You married someone else, and I wasn’t allowed in.”

She takes a sharp breath. That’s new.

“I don’t want to lose you, Mary. I love you so much, I think it would kill me.”

“Oh, honey.” She cradles his face, forcing him to look at her. “You listen to me, Bradley Bradshaw. You are the best thing to ever happen to me. I love you more than anything. In two weeks, we’re going to be living together. When the time is right, we’re going to get married and have a family.”

She can't help but press a quick kiss to his mouth. “And I’m healthy. There’s no history of uterine or breast cancer in my family, and I just had my annual appointment last week. All the tests came back negative for bad things. Nothing is wrong. I'm totally healthy, okay? I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“You’re right, I can’t. We can’t control everything, and sometimes bad things happen. But I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure I don’t ever leave you.”

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and scratchy. “I know it’s hard with what I do, but I promise you’re my number one thought when I’m in the air; coming home safe to you is my top priority.”

“Now, I’m gonna cry, Bradley.” They both let out watery laughs. “You’re such a sweet man.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now let’s go back to bed; I need my beauty sleep before I meet your parents.” She pulls him up, and they fall asleep quickly, tucked together as the early morning light peeks through the curtains.

When they get to the cemetery the next afternoon, a red rose sits on the headstone. One step in front of him, Mary picks it up and brushes some leaves off the base. He watches as she places the flower back in its spot, plucking a few dandelions before she stands.

“There,” she says, brushing dirt off her hands, “that’s better.”

The wind picks up, twisting her long hair around, and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, Mom, I know. She’s very pretty. I’m working on proposing. We gotta do some stuff first, but it’s coming.” He mutters under his breath.

“What was that, honey?”

“Nothing, baby doll. Want to help me put the blanket down?” His hat blows off, and he scowls at the tree that’s nearby, smiling when he hears her muffled giggle.

Miss you, dad.

part six will be coming next week! have a great weekend everyone!

fic tag | Mar[r]y Me masterlist | credit for dividers here

#top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick au #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fic #top gun au #top gun imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #DSS universe #MM fic #ask game #asks answered #anon <3 #elle writes #mar[r]y me fic

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mbakuxblackpanther · 5 months

Text

Royal Love +epilogue 👑❤️

Summary: M'baku is a 19 year old prince who will soon take the throne of jabariland. His father has arranged a marriage for him as it has been a tradition for years but, Mbaku is not happy. One day he meets a stunning girl named y/n and his life changes in the blink of an eye.

Mbaku Pov🤎:

I was awakened by the voice of my two guards Amina and Imani. "My prince, wake up. We have very important things scheduled for today." Amina said. "I've already sent for your breakfast to be prepared. It should be done by the time you finish getting ready." Imani added. "Thank you Amina and Imani." I thanked them. They nodded in response. They left my room so that I could get ready. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, took a shower and got dressed in my royal attire for today. I've just turned 19 only two weeks ago and my father is already hassling me about an arranged marriage. I wish to find my own wife but no matter how many times I bring it up he doesn't listen. I made my way downstairs and ate breakfast with my parents. "Mbaku I've found a wife for you. Her name is princess Sarai from the merchant tribe." my dad told me happily. *here we go again* I thought. "Father I've already told you. I'm not marrying her." I said annoyed. "It's tradition. You're about to become king, no? You can't become king without a wife. "IM NOT MARRYING HER!" I yelled. I'm so angry at my father all he seems to care about is the throne and to him, anything outside of that is irrelevant. "Ay you dare to speak to your father this way eh? The marriage is happening in three days end of discussion." My father spat.

When nightfall came I packed all of my things and brought along food and weapons. I planned to run away from the palace. *i can't be forced to marry someone if I'm not here* I thought.

*timeskip for 1 hour*

By now, I was long gone from my kingdom leaving behind my family, tribe, and the throne. I needed to make a point to my father that he can't control me. I'm 19 I should have the right to make MY own decisions especially when it comes to marriage. It was nightfall when I saw a girl walking through the village. Her s/c( skin color) glistened in the moonlight. Her long locs of hair touched all the way to the middle of her back. "Can I help you?" She asked knocking me out of my trance. "Y-yeah. Can you tell me where I am? I've come from jabariland." I asked her. "Sure. You're in the mahi village which is not too far from the molwheni clan" the mystery girl replied. ( A/N: not sure if that's real it's the first thing I thought of 💀). "Do you have anywhere to stay?" She added. "No. Can you tell me the directions to a place?" I asked. I didn't want to trouble her but I also needed somewhere to stay. "Come." The girl replied while offering her hand. I took it and she led us to a large hut house near a waterfall. "This is my house. If you wish, You may stay here for however long you need. I don't want you going off by yourself this late at night." The girl told me. "Thank you. My name is Mbaku. What's yours?" I asked her. "My name is y/n nice to meet you." Y/n replied. "Nice to meet you as well" I told her. We were getting to know each other and I explained why I'd come here.

Y/n pov✨: i normally don't let people stay with me but Mbaku seems nice and I didn't want him out this late at night. When it gets late it's very dangerous and I wouldn't want him to get hurt. We talked for a little and I learned that he was a prince. We talked and eventually fell asleep.

*timeskip to one week*

Mbaku has been staying here with me for a week now and I enjoy his company. I've always lived alone and it was nice to have someone to talk and spend time with. Unfortunately, he is leaving to go back with his kingdom. I have developed strong feelings for him but I feel its way too early for a relationship at the moment. I helped mbaku pack his things and got ready to walk him out. "Y/n Wait i have to talk to you before I go" he spoke. "I'm listening" I told him. "It's only been a week but it feels like I've known you forever. I have strong feelings for you and you're the only person who has made me feel this much happiness in a long time. Would you like to come back to jabariland with me?" Mbaku spoke. I thought about it for a second while taking everything in. "Yes I'd love to come with you under one condition" I responded. He looked up at me to let me know he was listening. "Can we get to know each other more before any relationship between us? I don't want us to move too fast." I added. "Yes princess anything for you. I need a wife to become king but that is the least of my concern right now. I genuinely want to be with you and Im willing to wait however long it takes until you're ready." Mbaku replied. The both of started to walk back to jabariland as we held hands and talked.

Mbaku Pov🤎:

*Timeskip*

By now y/n and I had made it back to jabariland. She suggested that we both share a room due to her not being familiar with the palace (a/n: y/n didn't want to be by herself) and of course I agreed. While y/n was preparing for bed I went to go speak with my mother. I didn't even want to look at my father let alone speak to him. When it came to marriage and things in general, my mother has always been more understanding than my father. When we talked, I explained to her where I went, why I left, and the reason I didn't want to marry princess Sarai. She understood where I was coming from and she agreed to talk to my father about it. I made my way back to me and y/n's room where I found her already asleep. I took a shower, brushed my teeth and face, and changed into my sleepwear. Afterwards, I got in the bed and snuggled close to y/n and dozed off to sleep.

A/n: i don't feel like putting a bunch of different pov's and time skips and I also didn't wanna leave y'all on a cliffhanger so i wrote a epilogue😭

Epilogue: y/n and mbaku dated for about 2 years and 6 months before they got married. M'baku's mom talked to his dad and after some time he agreed to call off the planned wedding for princess Saraí and mbaku. Instead, mbaku and y:n got married and a bunch of gifts were given to them by the people of their tribe. They received clothes, jewelry, etc. about 6 months after their wedding y/n discovered that she was pregnant. She had birthed one girl and one boy. Mbaku and y/n named them g/n and b/n( girl name and boy name. it can be any name you want btw). Y/n and mbaku both ruled as king and queen until their son b/n became old enough to inherit the throne. Their daughter was next in line but she had chosen to be a warrior instead of a ruler.

A/n: thats it for this imagine but the next one will be about tchalla since I haven't done anything about him yet so stay tuned! Hopefully you enjoyed this imagine and let me know what you would like to see more of, comments, etc.

#black panther #namor x reader #mbaku smut #namor smut #michael b jordan #outer banks #obx season 2 #obx season 4 #wattpad #jordan calloway #nba youngboy #angela bassett #attuma #jabariland #love triangle #rema #divine ikubor #Nigeria #black love

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bloodblanks · 2 years

Text

solace [masky / hoodie x reader] — chapter ii.

Despite having Tim and Brian still on your mind, you prepare to pack your things and leave. However, moving to your new apartment doesn’t exactly go as planned.

author's note: this fanfiction will contain explicit content, including rape/non-con, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

It was still early in the day when you woke up. At least, it was early in your standards. It was already afternoon, and as you realized that, you let out a groan of frustration. Unfortunately, you had a hundred percent ruined your sleep schedule. But what else did you expect—you had spent the entire evening binging a show, continuing into the early morning hours. By the time you went to sleep, the sun had risen, marking the time of dawn. As it was summer break, it wouldn’t matter too much, but you’d need to fix it before the start of school.

Your hands swatted at the phone on your nightstand, snatching the device eventually to turn the alarm off. Perhaps it was a bad habit, but the first thing you did was open your social media applications, procrastinating your leave from bed. Your phone display showed that you had a few unanswered text messages, all from a group chat consisting of you and your friends. You could see that they were discussing a new game that had just come out, and they’d been waiting for you to join. You smiled; it was sweet that they didn’t start without you. However, you’d have to crush their hopes.

ark Y/N WAKE UP WE NEED TO PLAY

Zohlem Shes probably sleeping lol You saw her typing at 3am about some show

lilypop she always does that lol but she should be up anytime soon

Y/N stop typing like this

lilypop fuck

Y/N start without me, i need to prep for move srry

lilypop you

ark :kittysad:

You felt a pang of guilt for not spending time with them after they had waited for you, but it was true. You did plan to start packing your stuff, deciding what to bring and what not to. Still, it was bothering you. Even though they were online friends, they still meant quite a lot to you. After all, they were the closest that you had to real friends, considering how you were left alone after Tim and Brian’s disappearance. Before that, you never had any other friends. You never needed other friends. It was supposed to be the three of you, a close-knit trio of friends. It was supposed to be the three of you leaving for university together. It was supposed to be the three of you, forever and always.

But that wasn’t the way things went. And everyone in high school already had a friend group or some sort of clique formed in earlier years, making it awkward to befriend new people. Not that you particularly wanted to, either. At the time, you didn’t particularly want to do anything.

Sighing, you put your phone down and got out of bed. Undressing, you took off the clothes you slept in, grabbed a simple outfit for the day—not like you were going anywhere fancy—and headed downstairs.

“Good morning, Y/N.” your mom called out.

You glanced at her sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders and walking to the dining table. You pulled out one of the chairs there, sat down and prepared to explain yourself.

“It’s summer break. I’ll fix my sleep schedule when school starts again,” you mumbled the first thing that came to your mind in hopes that she wouldn’t continue the subject. Which she didn’t, something you were thankful for. Ever since you had turned eighteen, both your parents had become more relaxed with you, assuming you’d know how to be responsible. Bold assumption, you thought. But it was one that was in your favour.

“Have you decided what you’ll be bringing?” Your mother asked as she took the dishes, likely from today’s breakfast that you had unfortunately missed, sliding them into the dishwasher's racks.

“Kind of, yeah. I think I’m just gonna be bringing some of my clothes, uh, the PC setup, and... the box.” Stumbling over your words, you let your voice trail off at the mention of the box. It wasn’t often that you’d bring up anything Tim and Brian related to her. In fact, you didn’t think that you had done it for a very long time, likely not since your last therapy session. Your mom was one of the few people genuinely affected by their disappearance at the time. She had known the boys for just as long as you had and likely remembered more of them in their earlier years than you did, seeing how your childhood memories were relatively blurry. Your families had all known each other since virtually the beginning of time. They had all grown up in this small town, went to the same schools together, got married, and had kids here. Your parents hadn’t been close with the other’s parents, but since the three of you had become such close friends, your parents eventually befriended each other’s parents.

Likely, your mom thought of Tim and Brian almost as family to some extent, which is mildly weird if you factor in the fact that you very possibly could’ve been crushing on either one of them to some extent at some point in time.

“Right,” she said. “The box. I almost forgot about it.” She paused for a second before continuing. “What exactly is in that thing, anyway?”

You knew all the items in there by heart. It was only natural since you had taken each and every item individually, collected them over the years, handpicked them from their rooms, and held them in your arms while crying yourself to sleep for countless nights.

“There’s Tim’s hoodie. The black one that he was always wearing.”

Your mom laughed. “Right,” she said, “Tim was going through some sort of phase.”

“Mhm.” You nodded. “There’s also Brian’s notebook from school. All his notes are in there. It’s a shame it’s for previous classes. I can’t copy off of them anymore.” you joked, and your mom chuckled at that. “And… Tim’s sketchbook. You know, he was good at art. It’s filled with like, all kinds of drawings. I haven’t looked through all of them yet, but I think I did see a drawing of me.”

Your mom hummed as she finished the dishes, walking over to you and pulling out a chair for herself. Sitting down, she said, “I swear Tim had a crush on you.” which caused you to blush.

“No, really!” she insisted, disregarding the flush on your face. “He was always staring at you. Anyone could’ve noticed.”

You got up from your chair, face red as a tomato. “I’m going to sort out my stuff, see ya.”

She laughed again. You appreciated moments like these, the simple pleasures of life.

—

You had far too many clothes. You only realized that today after looking through your closet to figure out what to bring. Taking out one of the folded cardboard boxes from the stack in your room, you quickly pushed out the sides to make the box. You threw your favourite shirts in, the ones that would go with almost any outfit. T-shirts, check. Seeing as it wouldn’t be warm for too much longer, you figured it would also be wise to bring a few sweaters. Sweaters, check. When trying to fit in your jackets, you realized how much space they took up and concluded that you’d bring the rest of them next time. After a while of debating between which were your favourites and which would be most practical, you made your choice, finally sealing the box with some tape. You’d bring more clothes the next time you returned home. Check.

You thought of packing your toiletries, such as your hair wash, skincare and the other products you used on a day-to-day basis, but you decided against it. You’d want to use them up until the day of moving, so you’ll pack them right before the move.

Taking your phone out of your pocket, you checked the time. Shit, you cursed internally. It was already ten past five. How in the world did it take you so long to decide between a few pieces of clothing? Were you really that slow?

Whatever, you thought. At the very least, you had finished the task, which meant it was productive enough for your standards.

Finally receiving the break you’d wanted all day, you excitedly sat yourself down in your chair, turned on your PC and typed a quick message to your friends.

Y/N srry guys i’m here now

ark :kittypog: yay

lilypop come play fast

You found yourself grinning as you read their replies. You appreciated your online friends very much. After Tim and Brian had left, you ended up spending the majority of your time online. You played video games, browsed art, read, scrolled social media, and so on. Through those activities, you found yourself meeting new people, some of which you have continued talking to ever since. You didn’t want to go out, not that you had a reason to, anyway. The world outside had become empty and devoid of life without Tim and Brian. Your new friends gave you something to look forward to when you woke up, a reason to get out of bed, and ways to occupy yourself and your mind. Through them, you were able to feel something other than grief.

As much as you hated to admit it, you were very much dependent on Tim and Brian. It wasn’t necessarily the healthiest thing, but you had grown up with them. You had done everything with them. You went to school together, did assignments together, played games together, ate food together, and even celebrated Christmas together with each other’s family. When they vanished, so did a large portion of your life. Everything you did, everything you were planning to do, involved them. And there was no them anymore.

Lost in thought, your attention turned away from the game you were playing, your movements on autopilot. You only noticed it when you saw your screen flash. Startled, you directed your focus back to see what had happened.

lilypopxd killed you.

“What the fuck, Lily?! I was distracted,” you yelled, only to hear a high-pitched giggle in return.

“Mad?” she asked, continuing to laugh, but abruptly stopped when you saw on the top of your screen that Daniel ‘Zohlem’ had killed her.

“Daniel you fucking piece of shit I hate you!” she cried out, and it was your turn to laugh this time.

“Mad?” you asked.

—

Your dad was downstairs. And he’d likely been there for a while because your mom had come into your room and woken you up.

“Y/N, your dad’s downstairs, let’s go.”

Right, you thought. You were moving your stuff today. Getting out of bed, you walked towards the window, quickly glancing and checking the weather to pick an outfit accordingly. It tended to start getting cold near the end of August, but there were still many hot days between the cooler ones.

You turned towards your already packed cardboard boxes—you had packed your utilities and hygiene products last night—but they weren’t there. You looked around the room in confusion, wondering where in the world giant cardboard boxes could have disappeared, but they were nowhere to be seen.

You were dumbfounded; how does something like this happen? You weren’t usually one to panic, but unless someone broke in or Casper the fucking ghost decided to pull a prank on you, there was no way these boxes would’ve just gone missing. You were pacing around in your room, trying to figure out what happened, when your mom came back upstairs and knocked at your door.

“Y/N, what’s the wait? Come on, your dad and I already took your things while you were sleeping. Make sure you don’t forget anything else, and come downstairs.”

Thank God it was just that, you thought. Your PC had also already been carefully packed into the car, so you quickly ran downstairs, grabbing a granola bar from the pantry and hopping into the car. Your father was already in the driver’s seat, and your mom was riding shotgun. You’d have to go into the back.

“Morning, dad,” you said, and he smiled, shaking his head.

“Right, morning. What time did you go to bed?” he asked.

You thought about it for a second. You were up late last night playing the new video game with your friends, only having gone to sleep at sometime around four in the morning.

“Three?” you hesitatingly said.

“Do you think you can fix your schedule before school starts?”

“Yeah,” you responded. Your dad didn’t seem too convinced. “Okay, I can pull an all-nighter to fix it if I need to.”

Your dad sighed. You could feel a lecture incoming.

“Do you really think you’re going to be okay by yourself in university?” he seemed more concerned than usual. He wasn’t often at home since he was busy working, but he was always a welcome sight when you did see him. Your mom was usually the worrier, and your dad often would reassure her that everything was fine, so it was unusual to see your dad anxious. It made sense, however, seeing as you were leaving for university. You had always lived with your parents up until now, so it would be a stark change for everyone. They were sure to miss you after your departure, even though you tended to hide in your room more than interact with them. They were likely also hesitant about letting you attend school alone, in a different city, without anyone there to directly support you. Where you were going wasn’t a long distance from home, but given your track record of not attending school when unattended, it was sensible to worry.

You had been depressed for a long time, ever since the incident happened. Initially, you tried to pretend everything would be okay. Tim and Brian would return soon; they likely just got lost after wandering somewhere over some stupid idea they had come up with. It was typical of them to think up wild things to do. But then, why didn’t they take you with them?

The entire city was searching for them for a week. But after that, the trial grew cold, and your hopes paled. You stopped going to school; you found it hard to focus on your classes, anyway. You could hear your classmates, teachers, and everyone around you discussing your best friends, thinking you couldn’t hear them. No matter where you went, you were inevitably reminded of them. It was causing you to slowly lose your mind. It rendered you incapable of concentrating on anything besides them, and somewhere in between all of that, you had also found it difficult to wake up in time for classes. You had a hard time falling asleep. You stayed up all night, tossing, turning, and crying into your pillow as if it would bring them back. You began skipping classes and eventually just stopped attending altogether. Naturally, your grades began a steep plummet, one that you never fully recovered from. Your school staff would start calling your parents in for meetings to discuss your well-being, which prompted them to send you to a therapist.

None of it made a difference, though. Your life wouldn’t ever be the same again without your best friends, and no amount of trying or pretence could ever fix that.

You dwelled on the case each day and night. You often went to their parents’ homes, looking through their rooms, checking the same areas repeatedly in search of any possible clues. It was like beating a dead horse, and you could tell that’s what their parents thought as well, with the sorrow-filled, pitiful look they’d give you whenever you came by. Nevertheless, you didn’t give up. Not until a year had passed.

Eventually, you came to the conclusion that you had to give up on the search. You didn’t want to do so, but you had been forced to accept by then that it wasn’t getting anywhere. You showed up at Tim and Brian’s homes for the last time, asking if you could take some of their belongings with you as memorabilia. Both their parents agreed, allowing you inside and giving you a hug. The last one you’d ever got from them.

Tim’s mother was much thinner than before, and you knew it because she would often give you hugs throughout the year. Brian’s father cracked the weakest of smiles, and you felt a pang of heartache at sight; he was one of the liveliest adults you had known, always there to crack a joke and make everyone smile. But there was nothing you could do about it. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t bring them back. They couldn’t either. And neither could the police. Nobody could. So you took your collection of items and left.

During your year indoors, you had spent much of your time online. You found catharsis in talking to your friends online about the situation; they were very empathetic and understanding. They always did their best to console you and never tired of you when even you were exhausted by how much of a broken record you sounded like, unable to stop yourself from constantly talking about your former friends. Nonetheless, they were proud of you when you took the box, and when you were ready, they encouraged you to slowly put your life back together at your own pace. And a few months after you took the box, you decided it was time to do so and went back to school. It was difficult catching up with all the work you had missed during the year and a half that you weren’t at school, but you did your best and pulled through. Enough to make it to university.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it,” you said. “If something’s wrong, I can always come talk to you guys.”

Both of your parents seemed happy with that response. Putting in our earbuds, you plugged them into your phone to play music, settling for looking out the window for the rest of the car ride. The view was pleasant.

When you arrived at your new apartment, your parents found a parking spot just a block away. Exiting the car, your parents opened the trunk, taking out the boxes of your things to carry them to your soon-to-be home. You mirrored their actions, getting out of the car, closing the vehicle door and retrieving the last box—the box—from there.

Crossing the street, you and your family arrived at the front of the apartment. Setting your box down on the steps, you typed in the four-digit entry code of the building. The door opened with a soft buzz, and you opened it, holding it open for your parents to enter before picking up your box and following them. You entered the apartment lobby together, which surprisingly looked even nicer in person than in the already appealing pictures. Consisting of white marble with thin black streaks through it, it almost made you think of an igloo. When you walked further up and to the stairs, your mom pointed out a concern. “There’s no elevator here.”

“There’s only three floors though,” you replied, “and I’m on the first. It’s good exercise.”

Your mom nodded, understanding your point and likely glad that you’d do something besides sitting in front of your monitor all day. The three of you continued to carry on up the stairs. As you turned the corner to the second half of the stairs, you began to feel lightheaded. You took another step forward, not understanding fully that something was wrong. It was mere seconds before static had hazed over your vision and rang in your ears. Your sight was one of an old TV turned on a broken channel, causing you to stumble forwards. Your foot caught on something, you weren’t sure what, but it was likely a step, and you fell forwards, hands still gripping the box, unable to find a landing.

You felt pain shoot through the side of your head as it slammed into the corner of something hard.

Your parents were yelling something, but you were too disoriented to make out the words. You thought they wanted you to get up, but everything hurt too much. You didn’t want to move; you wanted to just continue to lie there on the floor until the pain vanished. Not that you could’ve done anything else, your eyes were shut with blinding static, and your head rang into the void. You allowed unconsciousness to take you, your mind fading away into oblivion.

next chapter ->

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officerfriendlysblog · 1 year

Text

Issues

Rick grimes X Reader

Reader has some suspicion about Rick and Jessie but will work out in the end?

Word count: 988

This is the first thing I’ve written so don’t judge and um lmk if you guys want pt 2?

My Masterlist

I was wondering, "Y/N," as I was strolling through Alexandria, how long it had been since we had last been in a setting like this. When I turned around, Rick was coming my way.“Yeah?” "I missed you," rick said to me as he went to give me a hug after not seeing me all day. I replied as he kissed the top of my head, "I missed you too." Despite being annoyed with him for spending too much time with that Jessie girl. Rick smiled and added, "How are you liking Alexandria so far?" "It's okay, I think we need to keep a closer eye on these people; they're weak, and we can't be weak with them," I said . This place hasn't earned my confidence yet. "Carl said the same thing that their weak," Rick remarked. I couldn't help but sound jealous as Rick made his way to our bedroom, "Seems like you've been a little interested in that Jessie girl," to which Rick replied, "I'm just playing the part here, Y/N it's nothing." Rick responded with a bit of attitude, "I'm just saying I mean you two seem a little close lately." I told him that I didn't like his answer, so I left our bedroom without being overly dramatic.

Rick makes the decision to follow me outside of our bedroom. "There's nothing to be jealous about Y/N I only got my eyes on you," Rick says with a slight grin as he leans against the wall. Before I went to bed, I grabbed Rick's face and gave him a quick peck on his lovely lips. "I'm going to bed goodnight, I love you," I said. "I love you too," Rick replied.

Before I went to bed, I began to think about the possibility that Rick is concealing his love for Jessie. She is married, but her husband is a jerk, so you never know whether she wants Rick. Can I just sleep in peace today, please? Though I say I'm trying to sleep, these thoughts take over. Following a couple of moments I feel Rick towards the bed so I cuddle with him and begin to float off to sleep.

The following morning, when I wake up, I don't feel Rick around me, so I think he went to work more shifts. After getting up, I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth, take a shower, and change into new clothes. When I was finished, I went downstairs and saw Carl holding Judith. "Good morning Carl and Judith" I said, kissing them on the forehead. "Goodmorning Y/N," Carl said with a smile on his face.

As I begin to make them breakfast, I wonder why Rick didn't wake me up before leaving; typically, he would kiss me and wake me up. “Hey Carl, does your father have to work shifts today?” I asked because Rick typically informs me of his shift times. Carl replied as he began to consume the breakfast I had just prepared, "No, Diana gave him the day off and said for him to rest for the day and spend time with the family."

I faked a smiled, "I'm gonna go look for him real quick if you have trouble with Judith I can take her to Carols for a while." I said to Carl, "No, it's okay, I don't really get to spend time with her like this." "Okay," I smiled

I began to walk outside in search of Rick. I start to think, "Is he cheating on me with her?" once more. Why didn't he inform me that he was off today? It feels like my heart breaks when I see Rick and Jessie walking somewhere.

I made the decision to keep walking and follow Rick and Jessie as they soon vanished into a house corner.

When I first saw them, my first thought was, "Are you fucking serious?" I tried to hold back tears by saying, "Wow, I can't believe the two of you," as I witnessed Rick and Jessie kissing.

"Y/N, baby, it's not what you think it is"

I replied, "No Rick, it's exactly what I think,"

"Y/N it's not his fault I kissed him, I'm sorry," Jessie said as she stood there feeling guilty.

"I'm not talking about this anymore, I'm leaving fuck the both of you assholes," as I made my way back to the house. Rick tries to stop me, "Baby, I didn't kiss her first, I'm sorry.”

"I don't care Rick you let her kiss you and you didn't tell me it was your day off" I said, trying not to yell at him, "as soon as you came I was going to push her away I swear Y/N I didn't think she liked me I was trying to help her with Pete" Rick said "whatever Rick if I asked you about her before and you knew I was a little jealous you should’ve kept your distance from her Michonne or any other person can handle Pete” I said with my voice full of anger and disappointment “Baby, I’m sorry, I was just trying to help, I want this to be a safe place for us,” Rick said as he held my face in both hands. “Alright Rick, it’s fine, I get it she kissed first, I over exaggerated a little,” i said as he pulled me in for a kiss. “You didn’t over exaggerate, it’s fine, I should’ve spent the day with you guys, not her" Rick said "I better not catch you doing something like that again with her." I said, "I ain't afraid to leave if that's the case grimes," still angry about what had happened. "Your not going anywhere baby, I’m yours and your mine," Rick said with a smile trying to make me feel better. "Start acting like your mine then" I said still having a bit of suspicion of the two as we made our way to our house. I begin to wonder still..

“am I the one he truly wants?”

#rick grimes #twd rick #twd x reader #the walking dead #walking dead #andrew lincoln #rick x reader #rick grimes x y/n #amc twd #Spotify

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powerofelvis · 2 years

Note

Hi I'm sorry to bother you again so soon but the "Everlasting Love" made me love your writing even more and I just saw another video that made me think of Elvis (can be the real or Austin)

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMFdC9mxg/

Just early fame Elvis x reader🌹🌹

Hey there darlin’! You are fine, I need the practice with my writing! Hopefully this is good, once I started writing, I couldn’t stop! It was a great storyline. 😂

———————————————————————

The alarm sounds, waking you up from your slumber. You sit up in the bed, taking a moment to do whatever you need so that you would wake up completely. It was Friday, which means that it was the day that you would finally be able to meet Elvis for the first time! Elvis was coming to California for the shooting of Loving You. He would be in California for a couple of weeks, but you had planned on spending as much time as you could with him. You jumped out of the bed, walking over to the closet. You stood there for a while, trying to figure out what you wanted to wear that day. You had to hurry, because Elvis would be in town after lunch.

“Y/N! Are you awake?” Your mother yelled from the kitchen. You got dressed quickly, making sure that you were presentable before walking downstairs. “Yes mom, I’m awake.” You said with a smile. She knew exactly why you were excited as well because she reciprocated the smile that you had given her.

“When are you leaving to go meet Elvis?” She squealed, placing your eggs and ham in front of you. You were in the middle of eating your eggs, when you smiled more to yourself than to the question. “I’m meeting him at the airport after lunch, so it’ll be some time.” You replied as you continued with eating your breakfast.

Your mom nodded and turned back to the stove, continuing to clean up. After you finished your breakfast, you helped your mom with the dishes before racing back up to your room. You sat at your vanity, putting on some light makeup and styling your hair before placing your feet in some pumps. By the time you were finished getting ready, it was nearing lunch. You sprayed some perfume on your wrist and your neck before grabbing your clutch. You walked downstairs, grabbing a sandwich from your mom before kissing her cheek. “I’ll be back later mom, I love you!” You said as you opened the front door.

“Have fun, honey! I love you too.” She replied, smiling. Your mom was truly your rock, supporting you in everything that made you happy. She was your biggest supporter in your relationship with Elvis as well. You walked out to your car, getting inside. As you pulled out of the driveway and headed down the street towards your destination, you couldn’t think of anything else but Elvis.

It didn’t take long for you to get to the airport, noticing people walking around looking for their rides or for their loved ones. You suddenly got nervous, looking in your rear view mirror one last time to check your appearance. Once you were certain that you were presentable, you got out of the car, heading inside. You walked towards the double doors where people were flocking out from their respective flights. It didn’t take long for you to see Elvis, followed by his bodyguards and his father. “Elvis!” You shouted out, trying to get his attention.

His head snapped over to the sound of his name, noticing the most beautiful girl that he has ever seen. He immediately knew it was you. It was his first time seeing you, but once he saw you, he felt as if it wasn’t his first time. He placed his bag in his father’s arms before waving back. “Darlin’!” He raced over to you.

You ran towards him but realized that you were going to trip over your pumps as fast as you were running. You tried to stop yourself, but you fell over, knocking him down in the process. People stopped and looked at the both of you on the floor, concerned that maybe one of you was hurt. You weren’t hurt and neither was he. He laughed, helping you up before you jumped into his arms. He swung you two around, pressing his lips to yours. It was the sweetest kiss that you ever had and you wanted to melt into his arms.

“Oh darlin’, I’ve waited so long to do that.” His voice droned out. It was the sexiest accent you have ever heard, like molasses on a summer day. You couldn’t speak because you were so happy to see him. So to give your answer, you hugged him tight, not ready to let him go. He was yours as long as he was in your arms.

#elvis presley #austin butler elvis #elvis 2022 #my asks #daisy writes

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whatdoesshedotothem · 1 year

Text

Sunday 25 November 1832

7 35

11 40

fine soft damp November morning F53° at 7 ¾ - breakfast with my father at 9 – Marian came just as I had done breakfast staid talking to her till 10 20 then with my aunt till near 11 and came to my room at 11, and ¾ hour looking over my journal, the notices respecting my coal – at 11 50 went downstairs and from 11 55 to 12 50 read aloud to my aunt my father and sister and Hemingway the morning prayers and sermon 19 Mr. Knight - at 1 ¼ off along my walk to Lidgate and there in ½ hour - found Miss W- and Miss H. Parkhill and the reverend Mr Wilkinson and his grandson (Wroughton) sitting after dinner - they soon went away and Miss Parkhill went into the other room leaving Miss W- and me to go to church which however we did not do but sat talking till after 5 - she was low and looked disconsolate had received the ring in memory of Mrs Ainsworth and that had put her into the dolefuls much talk of Mr A- she will have him after all I spoke with indignation as usual and she of duty and all that I said whatever she had done to him she had not behaved very well to me I had had two promises of which she had evaded the one and broken the other (vide seventh and twelfth instant) she said she was more than ever determined not to go abroad I talked as if she needed not fear but bade her remember I would not pledge myself to anything then grubbled her she making no sort of objection but evidently enjoying it she thought Mr A- had a smaller hand than mine I said he had done it more roughly than necessary to spoil her as much as he could without the real thing ‘yes (but said she hastily) he did it first’ that is grubbled first in spite of all her declarations to the contrary I begin to suspect Mr A- really has deflowered and enjoyed her or how this so declaring against marring anybody else and the feeling bound to him and how all the pain she suffered sometimes could scarcely walk and why never tell the so gross and offending expression he used in his first letter after the death of his wife and that no man would use to the woman he meant to marry?

SH:7/ML/E/15/0154

she must have some man or other I can never satisfy her Steph was right enough about hysteria hang it she has no shame I may grubble or handle or look at her as I please she is my mistress for the time after the grubbling talking of Steph thinking she ought to go abroad promised I would say nothing to aid it but owned that he had asked me (I was going and who) whether I durst to take the charge and I said I should not do it for my own sake unless I felt pretty sure of its answering she thanked me for my consideration and seemed rather converted she needs not fear I shall not be for having her laughe[d] and said I should be at least merrier without than with her I see she is for keeping up a friendship and corresponding? I told her not to call on me ever on my return if she was Mrs Ainsworth she would then be no longer the same person as now and I being the older resident in the neighbourhood I should consider it my place to call on her the option of visiting lying with me she said she had once thought of his taking her name I said I should still not consider him society for me and under such circumstances what friendship could be carried on between her and me? a few minutes in the room with Miss Parkhill - apologized for having kept Miss W- away from church and so long away for Miss P- - Miss W- asked me to dinner on Tuesday which I declined but said I would go in the morning – they will be making calls on Wednesday in the town and neighbourhood and are to go to Low Moor iron works to call on the Hirds there on Friday that I shall probably after Tuesday not go again till Saturday - home in ½ hour at 5 ¾ near German house an impertinent fellow with a great stick in his hand asked if I was going home and made a catch at my queer goddamn you said I and pushed him off he said something which I took as meaning an attack do said I if you dare I’ll soon do for you and he walked one way and I the other I did not feel the least frightened how involuntarily and bitterly I always swear on these occasions! changed my things - dinner at 6 20 - afterwards wrote all the above of today - I really begin to tire of Miss W- I thanked her offer of money (in her note) the other day to pay for Godley saying that if all had gone on between us as I had planned I should have taken her offer as a thing of right as things were it was better not to have any tie of money matters she now proposes going to York after Christmas said the other day as I was likely to be here rather longer than I expected I made no objection would that I could well be off going with her but when I leave her it shall stand for a leaving I will have nothing more to do with her I am glad I have got to going to her so much seldomer – Have just done the above at 8 ½ - then an hour making calculation about the coal –

1 acre at 5 corves or loads per square yard = 1210 scores

1 acre at 4 ½ ----------------------------------= 1089 scores

.:. 4 ½ corves per square yard = 1210 scores – 2 corves per score = 1210 – 1210x2÷20 = 1210-121 = 1089.

121 scores at 13/4 or 8d. a corve = £80.13.4 .:. the soft bed of the lower land being ½ a corve per square yard or 121 scores per acre better than the soft bed of the upper land is (deducting half for expense) worth £80.13.4/2 = £40.6.8 more than the said coal of the upper land

1210 scores (at 8d. a corve) at 13/4 = £806.13.4÷2 = £403.6.8

1089 -----------------------------at 13/4 = £726.0.0÷2 = £363.0.0

1210-----------(at 7d. a corve) at 11/8 = £705.16.8÷2 = £352.18.4

1089 ------------------------------ at 11/8 = £635.5.0÷2 = £317.12.6

Kind letter 3 pages from Mrs Norcliffe (Langton) - thinks Joseph Booth will be to young and cannot know much of cleaning carriages or harness or waiting at table - the letter contains nothing of any use to me - asks id the death of Donald Cameron of Lochiel is the death of lady Vere’s husband - asks about the price of lodgings and livings at Hastings and about the society there - will not leave Langton before the 3rd of next month – Had just written the above at 10 – ½ hour with my aunt and came to my room at 10 35

my father sold the lower or soft bed coal at Highroydes at 12D.W. and 12 years to get it in to Messrs. Holt, Clarke, and Pearson for £100 a D.W. i.e. £150 per acre in the year 1784 when coals sold at only 3d. (instead of 7d. and 8d. as now) per corve or load – and ½ the purchase money was paid on signing the deeds and the other ½ 3 months after – 3d. a corve would equal 5/. a score – at 5 corves per square yard =

1210 scores at 5/. = £302.10.0 at 6 corves per square yard ten square yards = 3 scores

.:. 4840/10 x = 1452 scores (per acre) at 5/. = £363. per acre which allowing one half for expense would leave a profit of £63 per acre – less than 6 covers per square yard would not pay the partners

fine soft November day – F50 ½ now at 10 55 p.m. after writing the last ten lines -

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survey--s · 5 months

Text

683.

1 - What have you been up to so far today? Is that a typical thing for you to do on this particular day of the week? I've been to work and yeah, my Mondays are always the same, pretty much. The only difference today was Mike was home so I didn't have to worry about Archie, lol. I got home just after 1pm, had a shower, had lunch, washed up and now I'm doing this.

2 - Did you get a decent night’s sleep last night? How many hours sleep do you consider a decent amount? I slept really well actually. About seven hours is fine for me during the week, but I tend to sleep a bit longer at weekends.

3 - What is one silly thing that really gets on your nerves? When Mike takes the lighter and doesn't bloody put it back lol.

4 - Who was the last person you saw who wasn’t family? What did you guys end up doing together? Martin. I just talked to him when I dropped Ollie back home after his walk as he was working from home today.

5 - Do you prefer hot or cold drinks overall? I prefer a larger variety of cold drinks, but I love my hot coffee too.

6 - Do you own a decent set of waterproofs? If so, what do you use them for the most? If not, do you think that would be something you’d find useful? I do because I need them for work and walking the dog.

7 - Do you have any plans for the rest of the day? Not really, just relaxing at home. The weather is bloody freezing and the wind was picking up as I finished my last walk so I'm just glad that I don't have to go back outside.

8 - How often do you get your hair cut? When hairdressers were closed due to COVID, did you try cutting it yourself at home? I cut it myself at home even when COVID isn't a thing - normally every few months, I guess.

9 - What did you wear the last time you left the house? Is that different to what you’re wearing at the moment? Fleece leggings, a long sleeved t-shirt, a jumper, two pairs of socks, walking boots and my winter down jacket. I'm now wearing normal leggings, a t-shirt and a hoody, plus slipper socks.

10 - Would you rather have a relaxing beach holiday or a more active holiday in the mountains? A beach holiday just because my normal life is being active in the mountains lol.

11 - Do you know how to tie a tie? Yeah, I wore a tie to school for about sixteen years.

12 - How old were you when you first had a sleepover at someone’s house? Did you miss home? I don't remember, probably about seven or eight? I don't remember missing home much but it was nearly thirty years ago.

13 - How often do you spend time with your extended family? Never. They all live overseas and I haven't been over for about a decade now. My mum's sister and her husband came over a few years ago though.

14 - When you get up in the morning, do you have a set routine? Yeah, as soon as I get out of bed my routine is the same. Get up, go downstairs, pee, light the wax burner, feed the cats, let the dog out, feed the dog, sort the litter trays, vacuum and make breakfast. After that, it depends whether I'm working or not. If I am, I'll get ready and go to work, but if not I'll have a shower and just chill out.

15 - Do you remember the last time you cried? Were they sad or happy tears? Last week, they were just...frustration I guess as I had some horrible bug/virus thing and felt horrible.

16 - What do you have planned once you finish this survey? Probably more surveys.

17 - What was the last thing you cooked? Did you cook from scratch or just heat something up? I had a cannelloni ready meal for lunch, lol. I don't really cook - I just don't enjoy it and our kitchen is really small too which makes it a real hassle.

18 - Are you a fan of hot chocolate? Do you like it plain or do you prefer to add things like whipped cream or marshmallows? I'm not a huge fan of it unless it's the proper stuff, in which case I always add cream and marshmallows.

19 - What caused your last injury? Simba scratched me when we were playing the other day.

20 - How many tattoos and piercings do you have? Do any of them have an interesting story behind them? One tattoo, eight piercings. And no, not really.

21 - What kind of flowers do you like the best? When was the last time someone bought those for you? Sunflowers or pink roses. And probably Valentine's Day? We have Simba now and he can't be trusted not to knock everything over so no flowers here, lol.

22 - What’s the smallest thing you’ve ended a relationship over? I honestly don't know.

23 - Would you rather order a starter (appetiser) or a dessert? Or would you be able to manage a full three courses? I generally prefer starters. Desserts always seem really disappointing in restaurants lol. I can rarely manage all three courses.

24 - How do you get most of your news, if you pay attention to it at all? Online - mostly via social media.

25 - Have you or a member of your family been diagnosed with COVID yet? My parents had it but it wasn't very serious. Mike and I had something that probably was COVID back in 2022 but we never tested. We were both pretty unwell with it though.

26 - Are you a vegetarian? If so, what persuaded you to stop eating meat? If not, is it something you’d ever consider? Not anymore. I did give it a go for a while as a teenager though.

27 - Do you prefer rice or pasta? Pasta.

28 - Is anything you’re wearing a gift? Who bought it for you? My wedding/engagement rings and well, my husband did lol.

29 - What’s the dominant colour in the room you’re in at the moment? Red, grey and white all feature pretty evenly.

30 - Did you do laundry yet today? If not, do you need to do any before you go to bed? I put my towels in the dryer after my shower but otherwise no. I don't need to do any either, I did loads over the weekend.

#survey #surveys

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3d10fire-damage · 2 years

Text

Colors That Run Highlights 17

(pithy comment here)

Morning arrived in the un-named Hestia tavern. Calypso came to first, oddly in the same position she occupied while in coin form (though, now cushioned by a beeg dog familiar). She quickly headed outside to ground herself with some exercises.

Fea noticed that the owner and sole employee of the establishment, a tiefling woman named Paula, was rather ill, and got the woman to sit down while she took over doing dishes. Soon, Slim, Dave, and Kattie came down and started helping as well.

Slim used his herbalist kit to make some medicine for Paula, and once she had taken some, Kattie brought her upstairs to make sure she got rest. “stay in bed and rest or else”

Corrin was last to come downstairs, and in fact he fell down most of them because he was hungover. The poor guy had like, one drink the night before.

Calypso came back inside and was rather baffled by the circumstances. Fea asked her to seat people at tables, which led to Calypso being like “hey you! sit over there!” Fea asked her to say it a bit more nicely, but then Dave stepped in and took over the server role.

Calypso grabbed some water from the counter(?) and chugged it, just before someone pointed out that it was dishwater. She then went outside for the actual tap.

Corrin took some time to try and teach Astrid how to play stone, parchment, shears.

Once Slim had distributed breakfast, Corrin assisted with cleaning via Prestidigitation, and Calypso bused tables. The group made some money by essentially running the tavern for a day, hell yeah

getting mom’d by fea

At the end of the day, Calypso locked the fuck outta the door, declaring she would not allow any other patrons to enter. Dave gratefully took a seat, needing to rest his ol’ legs.

Slim did the usual triangle ring and YEEHAW to signal that dinner was prepared. Corrin spoke to Eae, the spouse of Asmodeus, through a magical feather she had given him.

(don’t worry, calypso found the actual tap shortly after)

Calypso suggested Corrin get drunk so that he could write up something appealing to say to Eae (air tight logic). Corrin spat out the ale she brought him, calling it piss, and told her to get some of the good stuff they drank the previous night.

Slim heated up a nice lil blunt and offered some to Fea again, though this process was perhaps hindered by a slight lack of weed knowledge ooc. Apparently Fea didn’t recall any memories or feel much of an effect. Bummer.

frat boyz

Fea brought up some ale to Kattie. Corrin jotted down something about showing off a lighter, Slim and Dave were cute fruits together, and then Corrin fell down the moment he got out of his chair. Then he passed out, I think? Poor drunk bastard.

Everyone headed upstairs, except Calypso who lingered at the table despite Dave’s efforts to talk her into going to bed. She eventually passed out at the table.

(There was some joking about Fea sitting up and watching Slim and Dave canoodle in their shared room, the upper half of her mask visible over saloon doors, just staring like a cat. Fortunately(?) this was not at all canon.)

In the morning, Paula felt much better, and even draped a blanket across Calypso’s shoulders as she prepared to open up shop for the day.

hangovers yayyy

Once everyone had gathered for breakfast, Paula explained that she had advertised a need for employees at the tavern, but no one had responded. Fea headed outside and spotted a beggar, and promptly brought him into the tavern and got him a job. If only it were that easy in real

The party took a ship back to the mainland and made their way to Magnin once again. Despite all the colorful lights and signs advertising stress-free contracts, the streets were fairly empty-- most people were having conferences within buildings.

A woman wrapped in fabrics grasped Slim’s sleeve and asked for his help in treating her father’s condition. She could offer no payment or collateral, but Slim accepted anyway. Corrin worried Thedda would disapprove of this, but as Calypso put it, “what she don’t know can’t hurt us.”

Slim identified the father’s condition as a type of skin infection, where the skin peels off and scales start to grow in its place. Using an ability resembling Lay on Hands (Boy on Cow), Slim cured the ailment, and also cured the young woman’s similar condition as well. Slim then took off his glove so that Corrin and/or Calypso could burn it, so as not to spread infection. For that reason, Fea also picked out some new shirts for Slim, in various garish colors.

On the road, during one of Kattie’s watches she noticed a large patch of Hot moving toward camp. She notified Fea, who awoke Calypso, who could see that it was lava flowing in their direction. She got up and kicked the cowboys awake, telling everyone to haul ass.

Once safely out of the way of the lava, the party stood by and watched it for a bit before settling back down. Calypso grabbed some manacles (from her gang days) from her bag and threw them into the lava and watched them steam and melt.

The party also happened upon a little hut created by the Artificers of Lavolis. It was equipped with four beds and a magical pitcher, along with directions on how to use it and a request to leave it for the next group that finds the hut. Kattie immediately used the word to summon five entire gallons of water, which overflowed from the pitcher and slightly flooded the floor. Cue a dad sigh from Slim.

(they did this again in the morning after monk warm ups. shower zone)

Calypso sat down with Corrin and, after some poor explaining, she eventually communicated that if Corrin were upset he could vent to her, and not have to keep it all bottled up. The conversation ended with a friendly exchange of “fuck you.”

Lavolis! A cool little town with little garden boxes and lots of tinkerers. Fea noted a library, though with some disappointment she remembered she couldn’t read. Calypso offered to check it out with her anyway if she wanted.

The group made their way to a bakery called Sera’s Sweets. Corrin informed the group they might not get any discounts or free stuff despite this being his mom’s shop and they were his friends. Calypso complained about this (”we oughta get free shit for adventurin’ with him”), and Dave made some retort about them having to help Calypso out of the coin without any free shit from her. Ouch but... fair?

Behind the bakery’s counter was a painting of a dwarven man, a halfling woman, and their baby. Calypso got a good chuckle out of Corrin’s baby picture. “Y’were a fat lil baby.” “I’m fat now!” Then they all met Sera Stonehammer, Corrin’s mom (who in my head is the halfling version of Kitty Forman).

After giving Corrin a strong hug, Sera did give the party free cookies (the fun shapes of which were a bit lost on the hard of seeing party members). After closing up shop, everyone went to the house of Stonehammer, which was a pretty damn nice place. Sera gave the group a little tour (the basement is off-limits, being papa Stonehammer’s workshop) before taking Corrin elsewhere for a private conversation.

Meanwhile, the others hung out on the balcony, Calypso and Slim having a smoke. Fea admitted that she felt out of place in such a nice house, and the others felt similarly.

Corrin came back upstairs and told the party that his mom had enlisted him (and the party) in fixing some stuff up for people in town the next day, free of charge.

That night, Calypso got out of bed and went back out onto the balcony. Fea soon joined her, and Calypso admitted that she kept hearing the rattling of chains in her dreams, so sleeping had... not been good lately. Fea offered to stay in the room with her; maybe the problem would be alleviated if Calypso weren’t alone. So then when Calypso went back to bed, Fea... got in with her and remained there until morning. And Calypso did sleep. 👀

A Fantastic breakfast was served in the dining room, where everyone met Dainsleif Stonehammer, Corrin’s dad. He gave his son an even stronger hug than his mom. Naturally some chat took place. Corrin’s parents talked about their son a bit, explaining how he had trouble with the more modern rune-based magic and that’s why he attended the Aegis Institute. They also told the story of how a child Corrin got stuck under the couch once.

Fea started bringing up things that were maybe not appropriate for the dining table, such as the time Corrin used Burning Hands on the bandits. Oops?

Dainsleif talked a bit with Calypso, who was visibly apprehensive about the whole thing. But when he said he was complimenting her about the contract with Asmodeus thing(!?) and then Calypso accidentally called the Infernal Champion an old goat, things warmed between them. Dainsleif went on a rant about how the Champion got lucky with her repairs to Hell’s Gate and didn’t actually understand the proper use of magic to maintain the gate. Turns out talking shit with your friend’s dad really breaks the ice! (also dunking on my own PC continues to crack my shit up)

There was some mention of a ghost haunting the basement and I’m not sure if the Stonehammers actually believe in it or if it’s just a running joke that started with a young Corrin back in the day.

Fea and Dainsleif discussed enchanting her rapier, though he deemed the weapon a relic from like 1000 years old. He was amazed it hadn’t broken by now, and suggested she perhaps sell it and get a newer blade. Calypso offered to help Fea pay for a new sword/enchantment if needed.

Dainsleif headed down into his workshop to work on restoring Astrid’s memories. The party set out to start their chores for the day.

#colors that run #dnd #long post

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part Four (Harry Styles)

a/n: happy TLABL day!! can’t believe we are already on part 4! im not sure if part 5 will be the last part, im still very much writing the rest so we’ll see! thank you so much for all the love you’ve been showing the series, i love reading your reactions! feedback is very much appreciated this time as well!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce

word count: 11k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

You wake up feeling like you’ve been hit by a truck or at least consumed a whole bottle of tequila. Your head is pounding and it’s probably with all the crying and stress, so you are quick to take some pills to ease the pain. Sitting on the edge of your bed you stare ahead of you blankly, trying to gain power to start the day.

Though today is Sunday, so you are not working, you’re still worried to face Harry after whatever it was that happened last night. What were you thinking, kissing your boss out of the blue? And what was he thinking kissing you for the second time? It kind of feels like a dream, but you know it really did happen.

You try to stay in your room as long as possible, avoiding to face Harry, but soon enough you can’t postpone it any longer, because you are starving. Peeking out of your room you hear voices coming from downstairs and as you reach the stairs you recognize not just Harry’s and Izzy’s voice, but Niall’s as well.

Arriving downstairs you see Niall and Izzy sitting on the stools at the kitchen island while Harry is cleaning the dishes after their breakfast probably. He is wearing a pair of light-washed jeans and a black hoodie, the sleeves bunched around his elbows. He looks so casual and yet just looking at him makes your heart skip a beat. You are in some big trouble.

Niall spots you first and he perks up waving in your way happily.

“Good morning, Y/N!” he beams, his accent sounds so comforting in such a stressful moment, for some reason.

“Hi, good morning,” you breathe out. Harry turns around, his eyes fall on you and a shiver runs down your spine. He just looked at you and you already want to run away and hide in your room a little longer.

“Morning,” he greets you with a nod before turning back to the sink to finish the dishes.

“Daddy and Uncle Niall are taking me to the park! We are picking Yara up too!” Izzy shares the news with you excitedly.

“Oh, that sounds great!” you smile at her, giving her cheek a gentle pinch before moving to the fridge.

“Do you want to come?” she invites you and your eyes immediately flicker over to Harry who looks at you the exact same time, making your stomach drop right away.

“Um, I have some work to do, maybe some other time,” you smile at Izzy, grabbing yourself a yoghurt and a banana before shutting the fridge closed.

“So how was yesterday?” Niall asks and you freeze. Does he know what happened? Did Harry tell him about last night?

Niall sees your frightened look to which he shoots you a confused one.

“The wedding, Harry told me earlier you had a wedding yesterday.”

“Oh, it went… fine,” you nod shortly, peeking at Harry who is now staring down at his feet awkwardly. This was starting to get painfully ridiculous, the two of you dancing around each other, pretending like you weren’t down each other’s throats just a few hours prior.

“Alright, let’s leave, we need to pick Yara up in twenty,” Harry claps his hands. Izzy jumps off the stool and takes Niall’s hand as they all head out of the house. “We’ll probably have lunch somewhere and then go grocery shopping, so we’ll be away for a while,” he informs you without looking your way before leaving without even waiting for any reaction from you.

Yeah, this was straight up the most awkward conversation you’ve had in a long time.

“Here, Izzy. Play some games on my phone!” Niall passes his phone to her with a sweet smile, but Harry smacks his bicep.

“What are you doing? She has enough screen time already!”

“Yeah, but I needed her to be busy so I can ask you what the fuck was that in the house.”

Harry curls his lips into his mouth, his eyes glued to the road ahead of him as he tries to come up with a good answer, but he knows he could never fool his best friend.

“Don’t stop, even if she is busy with the phone,” Harry scolds him, glancing at Izzy through the mirror, but she doesn’t seem to be listening to them. Niall rolls his eyes, but lets his words uncommented. “Besides, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh, you exactly know it. You and Y/N were like scared little bunnies around each other. She looked like she was about to faint any moment when you looked at her.”

“Maybe she was just tired,” he shrugs, but Niall laughs at his weak attempt to fool him.

“Now tell me the real reason, I know something happened.”

Harry chews on his bottom lip, debating whether he should come clean or not, but he knows Niall won’t leave him until he finally tells him so he is not left with many choices.

“We kissed.”

“What?!” Niall snaps, a little louder than Harry expected, his voice makes him flinch. “Sorry, that was a little too dramatic, but what the fuck? Why were you keeping this from me?!”

“Because I knew this is how you’d react,” Harry mumbles under his breath. “And… I don’t think it will ever happen again.”

“What do you mean?”

“The whole thing was a mess,” Harry sighs. “She came home late, pretty upset because she met with her ex at the wedding.”

“The one that cheated on her?”

“Mhm. The dude was an asshole and… she was crying in the kitchen when I came down. We sat on the couch, talked, I tried to calm her down and all that and then… she kissed me.”

“Wait, she kissed you? Wow, she’s got balls!” Niall laughs.

“Yeah, but it was, like, really short and she pulled back, shocked at herself for doing it. I think it was just all the emotions that got her a little confused. But then she tried to apologize and… and I kissed her.”

“What?! Oh my God!” Niall’s mind is blown and he doesn’t even tries to hide his excitement hearing the news about last night. “Was there tongue?”

“Jesus, Niall!” Harry scowls. “I’m not sharing the details with you.”

“Okay, but was it like a solid, short kiss or you guys went right at it?”

Harry doesn’t answer, but it tells enough about the situation and Niall can’t help but whistle as he claps his hands.

“Stop acting like a horny teenager, Niall,” Harry growls rolling his eyes at his friend.

“So you guys snogged, what’s the matter with that?”

“It got awkward. We just pulled back and I think we both were pretty shocked about it and… she just stood up and said that she is going to bed. End of story. And then you were there in the morning, so… yeah.”

“Tell me why the hell we are heading to a playdate then when you should be talking to her?” Niall asks, arching an eyebrow at Harry.

“There’s not much to talk about. It just happened in the heat of the moment, that’s all,” Harry shrugs, but deep down he knows it’s a blatant lie. At least on his side.

Unlike you, who fell asleep right away, Harry spent about an hour lying in his bed wide awake, not able to think about anything else but your lips on his. He replayed the whole thing in his head about a million times, he was starting to feel ashamed of it, but he just couldn’t stop.

Your abrupt leaving left him puzzled and he thought long and hard about why you felt the need to run away. The only thing that made sense to him is that you regretted it the moment it happened, that it really did just happen in the heat of the moment so Harry thought it’s best to act like it didn’t even happen.

“Please don’t be an ass and just… talk to her. We both know we can never know for sure what a woman thinks about. You can’t just assume and think that your assumption is one hundred percent right.”

“I find it funny that you’re such an expert in this stuff, but you haven’t had a stable relationship since like, we finished college,” Harry scoffs as he takes the corner and starts driving down the street to Yara’s moms’ house.

“Me not having a relationship doesn’t mean that I’m not good at them. It’s a choice,” Niall smirks.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“But back to the topic, you wanted to kiss her, right?”

“I mean, yeah? It kinda threw me off as well, but it was… nice.”

“Please don’t refer to a kiss as nice again,” Niall gags, but Harry just chuckles at him. “A kiss is hot, passionate, pant tighteni—“

“Okay, that’s enough!” Harry cuts him, earning a cackle from him.

“Just talk to her, don’t be a pussy.”

“I really do need better friends,” Harry mumbles under his breath as he pulls up to the driveway.

You really didn’t feel like staying home alone in that big ass house so you invited yourself over for an early dinner to your mom’s. You haven’t been over since the little fiasco with Trevor so you thought it might be a good idea to spend some time with them. Trevor said they’ve been trying to keep the fighting down to the minimum and not let it turn into a screaming match, so your speech worked after all.

It’s past three o’clock when you leave, no sign of Harry or Izzy and you feel like they won’t be back for a while either, so you lock everything up and head out.

You have a genuinely good time. It’s obvious that your mom feels guilty about her past behavior and is trying to lure you into forgiving her, though you already did that. But you’re happy your little speech worked. At least Trevor can have his peace now.

After dinner your mom disappears in her room and then returns with a nicely wrapped box and you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Mom, I told you I don’t need gifts.” You give her a look. Your birthday is coming up next week, but you were never the kind to celebrate. You never felt comfortable with all the attention and fuss birthdays come with, so you’ve always liked to keep it down. These past years you didn’t even ask for anything, though your parents never listened and this year doesn’t seem like an exception either.

“Oh hush. You can’t expect me not to celebrate my baby!” she shakes her head, sitting back to the dining table. “And besides, I didn’t pay a dollar for it,” she then adds and now you’re curious what she got you.

Removing the lid of the box you peek inside and your lips immediately part as you see the stack of polaroids inside.

“I know how much you like old photos and when we sold Grandma’s house back in August, I found these in my old room. I got a polaroid camera for graduation, just in time to take tons of pictures of you,” she explains with a soft chuckle as you start going through the pictures from when you were born and the next few years. Whenever you are done looking at a photo you hand it to Trevor so he can take a look at them too.

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep these, mom?” you ask glancing up at her over the stack.

“I took out a few for myself,” she admits with a sneaky smile. “You can have the rest, I know how much you love these stuff.”

“Thank you, mom,” you smile at her, hugging her from the side, feeling touched by this gift.

It’s nearing eight when you arrive back home, the lights are still up and if you had to guess you’d say that Harry is trying to tire Izzy out enough to put to bed, as usual. Walking in, your guess is proven right, the TV is on in the living room while Harry is sitting on the couch, Izzy all over him in her pink pajamas, playing around with his hair like she always does.

“Hi Y/N!” she calls out happily when she spots you.

“Hi Sunshine, did you have a good time today?” you ask with a soft smile.

“I did! And guess what!”

“What?”

“Yara invited me over for a sleepover!” she beams, clearly ecstatic about the invitation.

“That’s amazing!”

“What’s that?” she curiously asks pointing at the gift box in your hands. Harry turns to see you, his eyes falling on the box as well.

“Oh, it’s a gift I got from my mom,” you explain, stepping closer.

“Is it your birthday?” she questions, knitting her eyebrows together.

“No, not yet. But it will be next week,” you admit with a soft chuckle.

“Really? Are you having a birthday party?” she gasps, getting way too excited already. Harry eyes you without a word, holding Izzy by her hips so she is not losing her balance standing on the cushion of the couch.

“I’m not, sorry. I don’t like having birthday parties,” you pout at her apologetically.

“Oh, okay. Can I see what you got from your mom?”

“Izzy, don’t be nosy,” Harry warns her, but you just smile at the curious girl.

“Sure,” you nod, joining them on the couch. You sit on the opposite end than where Harry is, Izzy in the middle as she watches the box in awe. You set it down to the cushion and take the lid off, revealing the stack of photos.

“What are these?”

“They are called polaroids. They are old pictures, taken with a special camera that kind of prints the picture out right away,” you explain to her as she takes the first photo from the top, a picture of your mom holding you as a newborn. She was so young, practically a child herself, yet her pride was undeniable, it shone all over her face. You spot Harry looking at the picture as well over Izzy’s shoulder, still keeping his silence.

“Who are these people?”

“That’s my mom and that’s me as a baby. And… this is my dad,” you hold up another photo that features your dad.

“They really were young when they had you,” Harry speaks up for the first time, surprised by the photos.

“Yeah, they were.”

“What are you going to do with them?” Izzy questions, dropping the photo back into the box as she leans back to lie on Harry’s chest.

“Not sure yet. I might make an album from them,” you shrug. “I really like polaroids, I love that they are one of a kind.”

Izzy nods, though you’re not sure she understood what you meant by that. Fidgeting with her fingers she pushes down a yawn and Harry takes that as a good sign.

“Alright, time for bed, Love. Say good night to Y/N.” He picks her up as he stands from the couch. Izzy waves at you smiling with tired eyes.

“Night-night, Y/N,” she singsongs as Harry carries her towards the stairs.

Putting the pictures back into the box you head into your bedroom too, feeling like the time when you and Harry talk about what happened yesterday will never come. It’s pretty clear that he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, so you’ll just let it slip. It happened just in the heat of the moment, didn’t mean a thing, you better forget about it.

After a speedy shower you are getting ready to just go to bed, read some and have a relaxing evening, something you didn’t have the luck to have the day before. But right as you’re about to make yourself comfortable in bed, there’s a knock on your door.

“Hey,” you breathe out as you open it and find Harry standing in the hallway.

“I hope you weren’t sleeping already.”

“No. Come on in,” you invite him inside and he walks in. As he awkwardly stops in the middle of the room you realize he hasn’t even been in here since you’ve moved in. He takes a look around, examining what you’ve done with the room and you feel thankful you decided to put your laundry away just yesterday, so no dirty underwear is littering the floor anywhere.

“How can I help you?” you ask with a soft smile.

“I, erm… I just wanted to clear some things,” he starts, clearly feeling nervous about the conversation and that makes the two of you for sure. Nodding you let him know that you’re waiting for him to carry on. “What happened yesterday…” he starts and your breath gets caught in your throat. “You were very emotional, a lot happened and it was a very confusing moment probably for the both of us. I really like working with you, I’m very happy with the way you’ve been taking care of Izzy and I would hate to ruin it with anything.”

You can feel your stomach dropping even though you were bracing yourself for this version of the situation. It was very likely that Harry would want to keep things professional, like before, but it still makes you feel like shit.

“I’m sorry for stepping over some boundaries, but I really hope that… we can put it behind us and that we can move on.”

He is using his business tone. It’s the same tone he used with Sarah and his assistants and now he is using it to talk about the kiss that happened between the two of you.

“Sure,” you answer quietly nodding. “Moving on sounds… great,” you nod, forcing a smile to your face, but it couldn’t be more fake.

Harry nods as he runs his tongue over his lips, looking around a little awkwardly now that it’s been discussed.

“Alright, then… good night, Y/N,” he nods in your way before heading towards the door.

“Good night, Harry,” you mumble after him as he walks out and closes the door behind him.

As soon as you are on your own, you let out a shaky breath, falling to your bed, lips trembling as you try to even make out what you’re feeling. Because part of you is glad he didn’t make a fuss about it and you didn’t lose your job, that’s great news. But another part, which is vehemently bigger than the first one is upset and sad and… disappointed?

You were hoping it meant something for him, you wanted him to want it, to feel the same craving for you as you feel towards him, because you haven’t really stopped thinking about what his lips felt like against yours, what it was like when his fingers dug into your thigh, how it sent a shiver down your spine when his tongue met yours.

But this conversation just made it awfully clear that he wants nothing to do with you. And it hurts probably more than it should.

Harry doesn’t get too far from your door when he feels the all too familiar pain in his chest he has been forced to live with these past over three years. It’s like something is gripping his heart and lungs in his chest so tight, even breathing is a hard task.

Rushing into his bedroom he closes the door behind him and slides down to the floor as the tears flood from his eyes. The past twenty-four hours have been rough on him, the guilt has been growing immensely since he let himself slip and give in for his desires and eventually kiss you.

It’s not that he didn’t want it. Because he’d be lying if he said it meant nothing to him and that he hasn’t been craving it these past weeks.

But his guilt, this evil little voice in the back of his head wouldn’t let him enjoy it even the slightest.

How dare you kiss another woman after your wife? Are you insane? You don’t deserve to feel this way with anyone else. Not when you were the reason your wife ended up dead!

Heartbreaking sobs escape from his chest as he pushes himself up from the floor and heads into the bathroom. He strips out of his clothes leaving them all in a pile on the marble tiled floor before he steps into the shower and lets the hot water pour down on him, almost burning his skin, but he doesn’t change the temperature, as if he was trying to punish himself. His salty tears mix with the water as he stands still, chest heaving as his vivid memories from that night come crashing down on him all at once.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment now? Really?” Harry sighed at his wife when she failed to answer his question about the whereabouts of his sweatpants. Maggie sat on the bed with the recent maternity book she’d been reading these past days, not even paying her husband a look at his question.

“Mags, for fuck’s sake, I’m not in the mood to play this game right now,” Harry sighed in defeat. Maggie looked up at him, closed the book slowly and put it aside to the bedside table.

“So the question of expanding our family is just a game to you?” she asked calmly, but her anger and disappointment in her husband was soaking through her tone.

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“No, you are not talking about anything, because you refuse to have a fucking conversation with me!” she retorted, letting all her bottled up anger out that’d been boiling inside her.

“I already told you that I can’t think about having another baby right now. Izzy is only six, I’m in the middle of a huge project, I don’t have the capacity to think about having another baby, Maggie. I thought I made it clear, why are you still onto me then?”

“Because it’s not something we can put aside for too long! I don’t want to have another baby when I’m in my mid-thirties, but if we go with your plan, we won’t even have another one!” Maggie jumped to her feet, pacing the floor back and forth next to their bed as Harry stood with his hands on his hips, getting irritated that they were fighting over the same thing again.

“I never said we can’t have another baby, but why can’t we wait a little? When Izzy is older and more independent? Do you have any idea how hard it is to take care of a baby and a toddler? It’s a fucking nightmare!” Harry growled rolling his eyes.

“So our family is just a pain in the ass for you?” Maggie questioned, folding her arms on her chest and she was really getting on Harry’s nerves, twisting his words completely.

“That’s not what I said!” he snapped. “All I’m asking for is you to be a little patient and give me some time!”

“I don’t have time, Harry! I want it as soon as possible!”

“Why are you so fucking difficult?” Harry groaned, running his hands through his hair. “Why can’t you wait just… one year at least? Is that too much to ask?”

“And is it too much to ask to focus on your family? We are supposed to come first!” she turned it back around and Harry was not having the dirty games she was playing, putting all the blame on him when she could have been a little more understanding as well. He was feeling like his opinion was put aside and didn’t matter at all.

“You do come first, you don’t have the right to question that.” Harry pointed at Maggie, his blood practically boiling at this point.

“Then why do I feel like work is always more important to you?”

“What are you talking about? You know I’m home as much as I can, but we still need the fucking money, Maggie! Or how do you plan on paying the bills of this fucking mansion?!”

“I don’t need a mansion! I just need my family and that’s all!” she argued, but Harry rolled his eyes at her.

“Well you seem to enjoy this mansion a lot when you sit by the pool and watch movies in the fucking movie theater in your own home!” he snapped back feistily. “Stop acting like I don’t do shit for our family when I work my ass off to provide the best possible life. And all I’m asking for in return is some fucking time before we bring another baby into the picture!”

“You are so fucking unbelievable,” Maggie shook her head as she marched past him, walking away from the fight that just grinded his gears even more.

Just as Harry was about to go after her, he heard the faint crying through the baby monitor. Groaning he headed into Izzy’s room and as he took her out of her crib, he heard the front door open and shut.

“Aw, baby, I’m sorry, did we wake you up?” he cooed, hugging the crying little girl to his chest who clung onto him immediately. Even at such a young age, Izzy was already a daddy’s little girl.

Soon her cries died down to just little hiccups as Harry soothed her, patting her bum and back gently as he moved around the room. Holding Izzy in one arm he grabbed his phone with his free hand and typed a message to his wife.

Harry: Where did you go?!

Maggie: I’m going over to my sister’s. Don’t wait up, might get home late.

Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes. She called him out for running away from the conversation, but when they were finally talking about it she just decided to disappear when it didn’t head in the direction she wanted, seeking comfort at her sister, as always.

He managed to lull Izzy back to sleep, putting her back to her crib before going back to the bedroom. As time passed by and he calmed down more and more he wished Maggie was home so they could talk about it without jumping at each other’s throat. There had to be a compromising way to solve the situation that would be fine for the both of them.

Harry: Please come home and let’s talk about it.

Maggie: So you can bite my head off again?!

Harry: Mags, please. You have to understand my point of view too!

Maggie: I understand it, but I don’t agree with it. And you don’t seem to understand mine…

Harry: I do, but there are more things to consider. Please come home, I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone!

Maggie: Okay, I’m heading home now.

Harry put his phone down to the nightstand with a long sigh, already tired from everything that happened that day and he knew this conversation would be a hard one too, but they needed to be on the same page when it came to their family.

It was late getting late and Harry grew a little more restless with each passing moment. Paisley, Maggie’s sister lived about thirty minutes away from them and it’d been forty minutes since she sent her last text. At first he figured she maybe stayed and talked for a little longer with Paisley, or stopped for some fast food which he knew she liked so much whenever she was upset, but when an entire hour passed by he was getting worried.

He kept sending her texts that didn’t even get delivered and when he tried to call it went straight to her voicemail. Harry was losing his shit so he decided to call Paisley to see if she knew anything about her.

“She hasn’t arrived home yet?” she asked, clearly surprised.

“No, and she is not answering my calls and texts. When did she leave from yours?”

“A long time ago. Almost right away when you texted her to go home.”

“Fuck,” Harry breathed out, anxiously pacing the floor as he held the phone to his ear. “Okay, can you please call your parents in case she went there for whatever reason? I’ll try her friends.”

“Yeah, sure. Let me know if you got a hold of her,” Paisley told him before they ended the call.

Harry was scrolling through his contacts, trying to decide who Maggie would go to first in this situation and just as he was about to call the first person, his phone started ringing with an unknown number.

“Hello?” he answered the call unsurely, his heart beating fast in his chest as he stood in the middle of the room.

“Mr. Harry Styles?” a male voice asked on the other end.

“Yes, it’s me. Who am I speaking to?”

“I’m Officer Field speaking. You were listed as the emergency contact for your wife, Margaret Linn Styles.”

Blood rushed out of Harry’s face faster than he could even process what was happening. He stood completely frozen, his hands were getting clammy as he started sweating as if he just ran the marathon.

“What happened?” he asked weakly, barely even finding his own voice.

“Mr. Styles, I have bad news…”

Harry makes his way down to the entertainment room, walking like a zombie, only thinking about the bottle of vodka that sits in the minibar down there. Following his skin burning shower he tried to go to bed, but his head was starting to spin from everything that’s been swirling in his mind and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop it if he didn��t numb himself somehow. Unfortunately, his only way of doing it has been drinking, nothing seemed to help him the way alcohol did and though he knew he should never solve any of his problems with drinking, he still couldn’t help himself sometimes. When the pain was growing immensely, taking over his whole body, he chose the easiest way to get rid of the guilt or at least stop himself from… feeling.

Grabbing the bottle from the mini fridge he snatches himself a glass as well, not drinking straight from the bottle at least, and plopping himself down to the couch he pours a generous glass, drinking it without any chaser.

He winces as the alcohol burns down his throat, but at least it’s a different kind of pain, that takes the focus away from the one he is feeling in his chest.

One glass chases the other and since he is not particularly used to the heavy drinking, he is more like the ‘let’s nurse this pint for an hour’ type of guy, the raw vodka kicks in pretty quickly.

But he is not the only one who can’t fall asleep tonight.

You tried everything in your power to end your misery and finally fall asleep, but your mind and body was plotting against you and made you toss and turn until you couldn’t take it any longer. Making a good cup of tea seemed like a good idea, so you headed down the kitchen.

As you round the corner after the stairs and you’re about to walk into the kitchen, you notice how the lights are on down in the entertainment room. You stop in your tracks and try to think back if anyone was there before you went upstairs, but you don’t think it was the case.

You figure since there are only two adults living in the house, it must be Harry down there and right now, facing him doesn’t sound like a good idea, so you decide to leave him be, but that’s when you hear the voice of some kind of glass breaking, followed by a heavy accented cursing and it changes your mind right away.

“Harry?” you softly call out as you walk down the stairs, not sure what to expect down there. He is crouching down, his back in your direction as he is trying to get the pieces of the broken glass up from the floor, but he is too disoriented to succeed in the task and it’s obvious that an injury is deemed to happen sooner or later.

“Harry, you’re gonna cut yourself!” you warn him, and walking over to him you pull him up from his squatting position and when he looks at you is when you realize that he is drunk out of his mind.

“Y/N, oh shit, did I—Did I wake you up?” he slurs, knitting his eyebrows together as he tries to focus his vision on you.

“You didn’t, but let me just—Why don’t you sit down for a moment while I clean this up, huh?” you suggest, pulling him towards the couch, making him sit. He falls to the cushion like dead weight, letting out a tired sigh while you rush to get a broom and a dustpan to get rid of the broken glass on the floor as fast as possible before someone cuts themselves.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he breathes out closing his eyes.

“It’s okay. I’ll just clean it up quickly,” you assure him, getting down to business.

“Not about the g-glass. Well, about that as well…”

“Then why are you sorry?” you ask, as you sweep the shards onto the dustpan and throw them into the closest trashcan.

“About being… a pain in the ass,” he hiccups.

“You are not a pain in the ass,” you chuckle softly as you sit beside him.

“I am. I fucked things up,” he nods with a painful expression all over his handsome face.

“What do you mean?” You know you shouldn’t make him talk in this state, but you can’t help your curiosity. It seems like drunkenness makes his tongue run wild and you are desperate for the tiniest crumble of information about what’s going on in his head.

“I just… I kissed you,” he breathes out, his eyes popping open, but he is staring at the ceiling, not you.

“And?” you ask, trying to act cool, though your pulse is rapidly increasing.

“And I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh.” You lick your lips and try not to show how much that hurt. But even drunk, Harry notices the disappointment in your tone. His glassy eyes snap over to you and his face falls right away.

“That’s not how I mean it!” he gasps, reaching for your hand and you’re surprised by the sudden physical touch, but it feels kind of nice, so you let him hold your hand between his arm palms. “It’s not like I didn’t enjoy it, because fucking hell, it was amazing!” he bluntly tells you and you can already feel the heat crawling up your neck.

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“Then why did you tell me all of that in my room just earlier now?”

Harry pulls his hands back and moves his arms across his face, covering his eyes as he slides down the couch, his legs spreading out in front of him. He lets out a shaky whimper and seeing him like this worries you a lot. Harry is always in control, he has never let him fall apart like this before.

“Because… I don’t deserve to feel this way,” he confesses, confusing you even more. What is he talking about?

“Why wouldn’t you?”

He shakes his head under his arms, biting into his bottom lip as he inhales deeply, like he is trying to keep something inside, something you shouldn’t know about, but now you are desperate to find it out.

“I’m a fucking mess,” he breathes out, letting his arms fall to his sides, but he keeps his eyes closed, shutting you out in a way. “I don’t deserve to have these feelings,” he repeats again and it appears he is more likely talking to himself, rather than to you.

“Harry, what are you talking about?”

“I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you, because if I did, you’d never be able to look at me again.”

Now he is crying. Tears are rolling down his cheeks and his lips are trembling and you’ve never seen him in such a vulnerable state and quite frankly, it scares you. You knew him to be a strong and stable man, but now he resembles a frightened little boy, so lost in this big world.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not that bad, Harry.”

“It is,” he winces, as if it’s causing him physical pain to even talk about it.

“Harry…” You breathe out and moving closer you place a hand on his knee, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He turns to face you, his eyes all watered and glistening, he looks so heartbroken, it almost pains you as well.

“Promise me you won’t see me as a monster,” he whispers.

“I-I promise,” you nod, already bearing yourself for the worst, judging from the look on his face.

Taking a deep breath he looks around, as if he is making sure no one else is listening. Then his eyes fall down to his hands in his lap, he fidgets with his fingers, his tongue running along his pink lips before he takes a deep breath and speaks up again.

“Maggie’s death… It was all my fault. I fucking… killed my own wife.”

His voice dies down at the end of the sentence, staring into the void, completely zoned out as you sit beside him, shocked at his words. This was not exactly what you were expecting him to say. Harry starts sobbing again, the hot tears running down his cheeks as he starts crying and panic sets in you. He is so out of his own world, you have no idea what’s happening to him. Rushing over to the mini fridge, you grab a water for him, thinking it might help him at least after all the alcohol he has consumed.

“Here, drink some water,” you softly tell him, taking the cap off as you hand him the bottle. He takes it with a shaky hand and raising it to his trembling lips he takes a few small sips. “Harry, what do you mean it was your fault?” you ask, knowing well you probably shouldn’t push it, but you can’t just ignore what he said.

“Exactly what I said,” he sobs shaking his head vigorously. “It was all my fault, I was a fucking coward and that’s why she died! I could have stopped her! I should have gone after her!”

He is not answering you, not entirely. He is speaking thoughts that have been planted in his head a long time ago and they seem to be on repeat whenever he is feeling down. As much as you want to get more details out of him, he needs to rest, especially because he is working in the morning.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed, H,” you tell him as you stand up and reach out for him to help him to his unsteady feet. It turns out to be a little harder than you expected, but you manage to get him up from his sitting position, and throwing one of his arms over your shoulders you start to walk him up towards his bedroom.

“You fucking hate me now, don’t you?” he slurs, his other hand reaching out towards the wall to steady himself a little more.

“I don’t hate you, Harry.”

“But you think I’m a monster, right?”

“I’m not sure I know enough to think anything about you. This is a conversation we should have when you’re sober,” you suggest and he huffs.

“M’sorry for getting drunk in the middle of the night.”

“It’s alright. But I think you’ll have a mean headache in the morning,” you tease him as you finally reach the upstairs and head down the hallway towards his room.

“You’re a fucking angel, Y/N. You know that?” He just keeps talking and talking and you find it funny how different he is from his reserved and quiet self in this state.

“Am I?”

“Yeah. You are. You are so good to my daughter and to me as well… I really don’t get why your fucker ex cheated on you,” he huffs and you can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips. “What was his name? Kyle?”

“Keith,” you correct him.

“That fucker, Keith!” he spats making you laugh as you push his bedroom’s door open and walk him inside finally. “I bet he had a small dick.”

“Why does that matter,” you chuckle, making him sit on the edge of the bed.

“Because guys with small dicks are always out of touch with themselves. They think they are just better than everyone for some reason.”

“Do you have any scientific research to prove that?” you tease him as you push him down, tugging him under the covers, like a little kid.

“No, I just… know shit,” he sighs, his eyes falling closed the moment his head rests on the pillow.

“Alright. You can tell me more about what else you know when you’re sober. Now get some sleep, because you have work in the morning.”

You make sure he lies on his side as he hums his response. Reaching down you brush his messy curls out of his forehead as he breathes out harshly through his nose, probably about to fall asleep any moment.

Tapping on the screen of his phone on the nightstand you make sure that he has set up his alarm and you see the little alarm clock icon at the top bar so you are just about to walk out when you turn back around.

Seeing how he pushed so many things down inside of him, you’re not convinced he’ll be willing to give you the answers you are looking for. You’re afraid he might talk himself out and give you some kind of bullshit answer, so reaching for his phone you sneakily take his thumb and open the device, all whilst he doesn’t even move an inch.

Scrolling through his contacts you find Niall’s number and send it over to yourself before deleting the message so you leave no trail behind. You set the phone back to his nightstand and head out finally, going to bed as well, right after sending Niall a quick message.

Y/N: Hi! It’s Y/N, I got your number from Harry’s phone. Can you come by sometime tomorrow? I need to talk to you about something.

When you come down in the morning it’s pretty obvious that even though Harry had his alarm on, he snoozed one too many times and now he is in a rush, trying to get everything done and leave on time.

“Good morning,” you greet him and Izzy upon walking into the kitchen. Harry’s head snaps up from the half-made breakfast in front of him and judging by his expression, he more or less remembers what happened last night. “Rough morning?” you ask teasing him to ease the tension.

“Uh, yeah. Woke up a little late,” he nods, finishing up Izzy’s sandwich just the way she likes, without the crust on before handing it over to her. Izzy grabs the plate and marches over to the dining table, quietly munching on her food while Harry quickly tries to make himself a coffee, but he is a hot mess, still in his night clothes when he is supposed to leave in about ten minutes.

“I’ll make you the coffee, go and get changed,” you offer, taking over the machine.

“Oh, thank you,” he nods and for a change, he doesn’t try to argue with you, he just disappears upstairs.

You make his coffee just as he likes and leave it on the counter for him before joining Izzy at the table with your own breakfast. She is babbling about how excited she is for her piano lesson today, because she’s been practicing a lot lately. When Harry appears again he is dressed for work, but still looks a little disoriented.

“Hey,” you softly say as you join him in the kitchen.

“Hey, thank you for the coffee,” he nods, moving around the kitchen.

“No problem. How are you feeling?” you ask, hoping you’re not crossing any boundaries. Harry opens his mouth to answer, but then closes, probably not sure how much he should share, though he didn’t have too much problem with that last night.

“I’m… A little hangover, but I’m… fine,” he nods shortly. “Y/N, about last night, I—“

“We can talk about it later, okay? Don’t stress about it.” You give him a reassuring smile and you can tell he is sort of relieved he doesn’t have to have this conversation right in this moment.

“Thank you.”

“No worries. And I’ll clean up in the kitchen, don’t be late,” you smile at him warmly. You can tell he wants to protest, but he also knows he is running late so he doesn’t have much choice.

“Thank you, I’ll… see you later.”

Storming over to Izzy he presses a kiss to her forehead before grabbing all his stuff and leaving.

Niall texts you back not long after breakfast that he is free to drop by when Izzy is having her piano lesson. You carry on with the morning as usual, trying your best not to dwell on everything that happened last night.

Just as Rosaline and Izzy get settled for the lesson you hear a car pulling up outside and a few moments later the doorbell rings through the house.

“Let’s get one thing straight, is it a booty call?” Niall questions right away as you let him inside.

“It’s good to see you again,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him.

“So no sex is gonna be involved?” he smirks and you know he is just teasing you.

“No, sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, you can never disappoint me, darling,” he winks at you before walking into the kitchen to serve himself a drink. “So why did you need to see me so desperately?”

“Well, I know I shouldn’t be discussing this with you first, but I feel like I need to know some basic information that Harry might not give me so I thought you could help me out.” Niall nods as he pours himself some soda and joins you at the kitchen island, sitting on the stool next to you. “I uhh—I need to ask how much Harry shared with you about… about me—and, um what—“

“Save the stuttering, I know you two kissed,” Niall cuts you off and you breathe out in relief that you don’t have to be the one breaking him the news.

“Oh, okay,” you nod with an awkward smile. “Yeah, so that happened. And last night he and I had this conversation how we should just keep our relationship professional and all that. We both went our own way but then later I found Harry down in the entertainment room, drunk and basically having a meltdown of some sort.”

“How drunk was he?” Niall asks, knitting his eyebrows together.

“Pretty drunk. He broke a glass and he was… crying and talking about a lot of stuff.” Niall takes your words in as he inhales deeply, just nodding for you to continue. “He started telling me how sorry he was for fucking things up and he was a mess, like a huge fucking mess. Then he told me about how he shouldn’t be feeling the way he does, because he doesn’t deserve it…”

“Jesus…” Niall shakes his head, probably already knowing where this is heading.

“And then he told me that his wife’s death was his fault. That was… pretty intense.”

“I can imagine.”

“I know I have to talk to him about it, but I’m really afraid he might shake it off, but it seems like he is having some serious issues and I wouldn’t want things to get out of hands. That’s why I thought I would talk to you, maybe you know what to do or how to approach him with such a sensitive subject.”

“Yeah, I get it. It’s nice of you for being so considerate,” Niall nods, scratching his chin. “Alright, I’ll tell you what I know, but please also let him tell you if he decides to share it with you.” You nod and turn all your attention to him. “I didn’t find this out until about two months after Maggie’s death, but apparently, the night she died they had a fight. Maggie had been nagging Harry to have another baby, but he wanted to wait a little longer, until Izzy is older so they don’t have two babies at the same time. Harry said they had another big fight about it, said some pretty nasty things to each other before Maggie just stormed out to go over to her sister’s. She made it there, but… never made it back home.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of how devastating it must have been, losing your partner after an intense fight without ever making up.

“Understandably, Harry completely lost his shit. For weeks he was barely functioning and we all knew he was grieving, but we didn’t know that he was blaming himself for what happened. When he wasn’t getting any better we somehow convinced him to go to therapy which luckily helped him immensely, but he stopped going a while ago. I thought he got things straight in his head about this whole Maggie situation, but I guess he is still hung up on that.”

“What about the drinking, did that happen a lot?”

“Not that I know of. I mean, yeah, he got wasted quite a few times, but only at the beginning. I don’t think you should be afraid that he might turn into an alcoholic. I think he is just really struggling right now because of the conflict he is having because of you.”

“Because of me?”

“Yeah, he is clearly very confused about his feelings for you and he has convinced himself he shouldn’t feel this way towards anyone ever, but then you came,” he chuckles softly giving you a knowing look.

“Niall, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” you breathe out, worry and fear slowly taking over your judgment.

“First and foremost just… be patient with him, okay? This is genuinely the first time he has taken an interest in anyone since Maggie and I think he has already taken some big steps, which is a good sign. Try to talk to him and be open, but don’t push him. I know it can be really annoying when he keeps things, but let him tell you everything at his own pace.”

You nod, understanding the importance of not rushing Harry into anything. Just because you want to get over the awkwardness of the current situation, you can’t push him over his own boundaries.

“Okay, I’ll try to do that,” you nod taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Niall.”

“Oh, and don’t let him give you the ‘you work for me, we shouldn’t be doing this’ bullshit alright? He’ll try to make it out to be some kind of business, but it’s not. He needs to get himself out there and I genuinely think you’re the right person to help him with that.”

His words touch you and you’re not even sure how to react. Niall is clearly someone who stands close to Harry and if he thinks that you and him should give it a try, that must mean something. You can only hope that Harry will come around and think the same at one point.

Izzy gets a little fussy by the end of the day and it takes a lot of persuading to get her to bed in the evening. Harry arrived back home on his usual time and because it’s been such a hot day outside, he took her out to the pool. The problem with that is that Izzy never wants to get out of the water, so when Harry said it’s time for dinner she threw a bit of a tantrum as Harry brought her inside and her mood didn’t get any better later either.

You spent most of your night in the living room just watching TV and working on your laptop, updating your schedule for the upcoming weeks and doing some editing. Harry stays upstairs with Izzy for a long time when her bedtime comes and you figure she is still a little moody, but then you eventually hear his footsteps approaching. Harry pads his way into the living room and joins you on the couch. When you glance over at him you know he is trying to find a way to start the conversation you both know you need to have, so you put your laptop aside and turn your attention towards him.

“Y/N, I’m really sorry about last night. I’m honestly so terribly ashamed you had to… see me like that,” he starts, clearly nervous to bring it all up.

“It’s fine, happens to everyone,” you assure him and it’s the genuine truth.

“It’s not a regular occurrence, really. I usually know my limits and try to stay within them. I’m really sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“Harry, don’t worry about it,” you tell him again with a warm smile. “We can get past it. I think what we really should talk about is… what you said. Do you remember what we talked about?” you carefully ask.

“I do…” he nods, awkward diverting his eyes away from you. “I’m sorry I told you all that in that state, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to just pour it all on you so suddenly.”

“It’s alright.” “No, it’s not,” he protests shaking his head. “I dropped a bomb on you because I couldn’t deal with my own problems the right way, and it’s not okay. So please, just… accept my apology.”

“Okay, I accept it,” you nod.

“And about the whole thing with… What I told you about Maggie…”

“Just know that you don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to. I’m happy to listen whenever you are ready to, but I’m not trying to push you.”

“I know and thank you for that, but I feel like… I owe you an explanation,” he admits and you nod, happy that he is willing to talk instead of closing himself off entirely. “The day Maggie died, we got into this huge fight and she ran off to her sister. It was… a whole mess, we both said things we clearly didn’t mean and I texted her, tried to get her to come home so we could talk things out. That’s when… she was on her way home when it happened and… I still feel like it was my fault.” His voice dies down at the end, just like it did last night when he was talking about her. It clearly left a deep scar on him that’s still not entirely healed and you can’t blame him.

“Everyone keeps telling me that it wasn’t, that it was just all one big coincidence, but all I can think about is that she would still be here if we didn’t get into the fight and I didn’t piss her off so much she felt the need to leave.”

“There was no way for you to see what would happen, Harry. It’s not like you did it on purpose, you had no power over the drunk driver or where Maggie chose to drive home. It really was a coincidence.”

“I know, I mean… I understand, but somehow, my mind keeps telling me that it was my fault.”

“Have you thought about… getting professional help?” you ask, trying to be polite and cautious on the topic.

“Actually, I just called my therapist today to see if… she can fit me in for some sessions,” he admits and you’re surprised at how great he is dealing with the matter. “I feel like I might need some guidance again, before things get out of my hands.”

“That’s great! It really is good to go a bit ahead of problems.”

“Yeah. About us…” he exhales nervously, his eyes meeting yours and you can tell this is the part that’s got him the most anxious. You take this as your queue to take over the conversation.

“Harry, I’m going to be honest with you,” you start and he nods, chewing on his bottom lip. “I… I have feelings for you. You haven’t been the only one making realizations,” you add with a soft chuckle, that brings a smile to his lips as well. “I know that the situation is not quite ideal, but it’s not impossible. But I just want you to be honest with me, do you have feelings for me?”

The conflict is clearer than daylight in his eyes as he is trying to figure out what to say and you really hope he isn’t gonna try to mask his feelings.

“I do,” he then admits and it’s like a giant rock has been lifted off your chest and shoulders. “It’s just… I’m not sure how to deal with it.”

“That’s alright,” you tell him. “Let’s just… take it slow. We’re not in a rush, we obviously have a lot to figure out and that’s completely fine. The pace is completely up to you, I know that you need to get a lot of things straight in your head and I can wait, okay? I’m not going anywhere, I really like where we are now and… I just hope that we can move this forward whenever you feel comfortable with it.”

Harry stares back at you for a moment like you’re some alien creature. Like what you just said wasn’t normal or even human and that’s quite heartbreaking, because somewhere along the way he managed to convince himself that he is not worthy of the most basic decency.

“I-I can’t ask you to wait around while I figure my shit out, that’s not—“

“You’re not asking me, Harry,” you smile at him softly. “This is my decision.”

His eyes are shifting between yours and he is most likely looking for any sign of doubt or qualm, but there’s none, you genuinely meant everything you said.

“So, where does this leave us?” he then asks and you shrug your shoulders.

“Everything goes on like it used to and… whenever you are ready to take a step, just… let me know.”

You can tell he is filled with questions, but he just nods with a weak smile and leaves it at that. This will be a bumpy ride, but at least you are more or less on the same page now.

You haven’t been a big fan of birthday celebrations. You just never understood the big fuss about it, throwing a party for surviving another year? Seems a little weird. This is why you never treated this day any different.

The morning starts off as usual, only that you wake up to a few texts from friends and family, wishing you a happy birthday. Your mom has sent you a whole damn paragraph about how you made her life complete and it wouldn’t be the same without you in it. She does that every time, gets a little too sentimental about it, but you guess it’s because it reminds her of getting old herself as well, which is a sensitive topic in her book these days.

It’s a Sunday, so a day off for you. Coming downstairs you find Izzy and Harry sitting at the dining table, already having their breakfast as usual, but when she sees you, she jumps in her seat in excitement.

“Good morning, Y/N!” she beams with a wide smile, buzzing more than she usually does.

“Morning, Sunshine. Slept well?” you ask as you pour yourself some cereal and join them at the table. Izzy nods and then peeks at her father as if she is trying to hide something with him from you.

“Daddy, can we do it now?” she asks in a whisper, but it’s not quiet enough for you to not hear it.

Your eyes lock with Harry’s over the table and the butterflies in your stomach start dancing around right away when you see the tiny smirk tugging on his lips.

It’s been almost an entire week since your conversation with him and things finally seem to get in place for now. Harry had his first session with his therapist on Wednesday and though you can tell he is still trying to find his own boundaries, he doesn’t worry as much about the situation as he probably did before. He isn’t walking on eggshells around you, unsure how to act. More or less it’s the same as it was before the kiss, but there are tiny little things that still make it different. Stolen glances, lingering touches and sweet smiles are making your days more colorful now and it’s gotten you all giddy and… happy.

“What are you two plotting, huh?” you ask, pointing at them with your spoon before digging into the cereal. Izzy glances at Harry one last time and when he nods shortly, she turns to you and throws her arms in the air.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” she cheers as Harry reaches over to the chair next to him and pulls up a box from under the table, handing it over to Izzy so she could give it to you. “This is for you!”

“You shouldn’t have gotten me anything!” you gasp, truly surprised by the gift. You were not expecting it at all.

“It’s not a birthday without gifts!” she giggles excitedly as she hands the box over. You push your cereal bowl to the side and set the gift to the table in front of you. “Open it!” she urges you, her little hands curled into fists as she watches your every move, as if it was her who just got a present.

Your eyes meet Harry’s green ones over the table once more and he is watching you with a small smile, probably enjoying that he could surprise you.

You pull on the bow on the top and then carefully take the wrapping paper off until the box is revealed underneath and you gas as soon as you realize what this is.

“Oh my God!” you breathe out in disbelief as you take a better look at the gift. Harry didn’t just get you something, he actually listened to what you were saying and remembered that you’re a big fan of oldschool cameras and you have a special love for polaroids. And now, in front of you in the box is your very own polaroid camera, something you’ve been really wanting to buy for yourself for a long time, but you just never got around to actually do it.

“Do you like it? Daddy said you’d really like it!” Izzy asks with big eyes, watching your reaction.

“Oh, I love it!” you breathe out, feeling all mushy and melted from the gesture. Izzy climbs over to your lap, hugging your neck. You wrap your arms around her in a bone crushing hug and you’re so thankful for having them both in your life.

Izzy sits on your lap as you get the camera out of the box and figure out how to work it. She then hops off your lap and poses for the first ever picture taken with your new favorite camera.

“But it’s blank!” she furrows her eyebrows when the photo comes out.

“Because you have to wait for it to develop. It’ll show up in a few minutes,” you smile, setting the photo down on the table.

Izzy sits in her seat, excitedly waiting for the photo to develop and in the meanwhile you join Harry in the kitchen where he is washing the dishes. He spots you and turns the tap off, turning to face you as he dries his hands off.

“You shouldn’t have gotten me anything,” you tell him softly, but really feel touched by the gesture.

“No, but I wanted to. Do you really like it?”

“I love it!” you chuckle in disbelief. How could he think you wouldn’t like it?!

You move forward, aiming for a hug out of instinct but then stop yourself, not wanting to cross any boundaries, but Harry notices the motion and for your surprise, he wraps you in a warm hug on his own. You melt against his hard chest, your nose buried into his shoulder as your arms circle around his waist.

When you lean back, you both keep your arms around each other, eyes meeting and you realize just how close you are to each other. Without even knowing, your gaze flickers down to his lips and you’re dying to kiss him, to feel them again, but you don’t move, wanting to keep your word about letting him set the pace.

But what you didn’t expect is Harry leaning down and capturing your lips in a sweet, innocent kiss. It’s so different from the last time, that was a hot mess, but this one… this is light as a feather but still makes your stomach somersault as you taste his lips, cupping his face in your hands.

“Daddy! I’m thirsty!” Izzy calls out from outside and it kind of ends the moment. Harry pulls back and when you look at him you see that his eyes are still closed. They flutter open a moment later, finding your gaze and you look for any kind of regret or fear in them, but they are nothing but shiny.

“Just a moment, baby!” he answers her, a small smile tugging on his lips as he leans down and pecks the corner of your mouth again before his hands fall from your waist. “Happy birthday, Y/N,” he breathes out before grabbing a bottled water and heading back to Izzy.

You bring your fingertips to your tingling lips as you take a moment to really process what just happened and you can’t push down the smile that spreads across your face. Harry finally took the first step and now you can’t wait to see what’s coming next.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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lucy90712 · 3 years

Text

morning sickness (pregnancy series)

⚠️emetophobia warning⚠️ a/n: sorry for the lack of posts I’ve been away with awful WiFi

Series masterlist

George:

The sickness throughout the first part of my pregnancy has been awful and has lasted all of the first trimester and into the second trimester. Every morning I wake up feeling so nauseous and throw up most days not really for any real reason. George has been so good and will try his best to take care of me.

This morning I woke up feeling extra nauseous from the second I opened my eyes so I knew it would be a bad day which happens sometimes but it isn't any fun thats for sure. I felt so awful that I couldn't move but at the same time I really needed to try and eat and drink something to make me feel a little better which is a constant battle that I have with myself.

I stayed in bed until the nausea took over and I had to quickly move George's arm off me so that I could run to the bathroom. I threw up more than I ever thought I could before resting against the sink to regain some composure even though I still felt awful. I threw up again before George came in still half asleep but concerned.

"Are you doing ok?" He asked even though he knew the answer

"Not really" I replied

"How many times have you been sick?" He asked

"Two so far" I answered

He got down on the floor with me and rubbed my back for a minute before going to go and get water for me to sip like he always does. I rested my head on his shoulder and just let him hold me which was the only thing that seemed to help me feel a little better.

When I recovered a little bit we went downstairs so that I could try and eat something but as soon as we got to the kitchen just the smell of the cat made all the nausea come flooding back so I went right back to the bathroom and threw up again. It's is going to be one of those awful days again.

Dream:

I have been so lucky that I haven't really felt too nauseous but there are some days especially at the moment where I feel quick sick. On one of those days like today I normally stay in bed or on the sofa doing nothing under strict orders from Clay who won't let me push myself too far because he wants me to take care fo myself.

This morning I curled up to Clay while he was still asleep because I was feeling pretty bad and he makes me feel better even if its all in my head. He woke up as I moved closer to him and looked at me to see what I was doing.

"You ok there?" He asked

"I feel sick" I replied

"Do you think you are going to throw up or just feel sick?" He asked

"I probably won't throw up but I feel pretty bad" I said

That was enough for him and he lifted me up carrying me to the living room and putting me down on the sofa before going to the kitchen where he came back with water. Which he gave me as he got on the sofa behind he so that he could cuddle me.

We spent the whole day cuddled together on the sofa watching films and Clay cancelled his plans for the day or pushed them back until this evening so that he could take care of me.

Sapnap:

I have struggled so much with sickness throughout the pregnancy so far an not even just nausea I throw up multiple times a day. It's awful and just so exhausting but I can't sleep because I feel so sick which is just the worst endless cycle. Sapnap tries his best to help me and be there for me but he hates watching people throw up which I understand but he is there for me when I'm not throwing up.

This morning I was doing pretty good and hadn't thrown up yet and I've been up for about 45 minutes which is quite unusual for me I have even made myself some breakfast which normally makes me throw up but maybe I'm slowly getting over this sickness. I went to wash the dishes but as soon as I got the washing up liquid open the smell sent me right back to my constant state of sickness.

I ran to the bathroom and threw up all the breakfast I just ate and more which just doesn't seem possible but somehow it is. Sapnap came into the bathroom after watching me run from the kitchen he knew what was happening but he had heard me saying only minutes prior that I felt better today so he knew I would be upset.

"Oh babe I'm sorry" he said sitting down and rub my back

"Why do I have to be sick all the time why can't I just feel better" I sobbed

"I don't know but what I do know is that you are doing such a good job at coping with it and being strong I could never live with this but here you are" he comforted

Sapnap sat with me the rest of the day even when I was throwing up because he knew it was just one of those days where I was really feeling it and he cared more about making me feel better then having to watch me throw up.

Quackity:

I have been so lucky with my pregnancy that I really haven't had any sickness at all I mean sometimes some things will make me feel nauseous but never very bad at all but for some reason today that has changed and I woke up feeling really sick for no apparent reason. I tried getting up to see if getting up and getting on with things would help the sickness to subside but it really didn't at all work if anything I felt worse.

Nothing is helping this sickness either. I have tried everything that google or other people recommend but it isn't helping. Alex has been trying to help too by distracting me to take the edge off which is sweet of him but it wasn't helping a whole lot. He gathered that distractions weren't going to work and so he made me go back to bed so that we could cuddle and watch a movie.

"Just relax love we can have a lazy day and forget about everything else I just want you to feel better" he said

"Thank you Alex but you can leave me if you have something to do" I said

All he did was shake his head and hold onto be tighter which gave me my answer to if he was going to leave me.

Karl:

It's been a bit up and down throughout my pregnancy in term of sickness, some days I feel quite sick and others I'm fine and it doesn't really have a pattern it just really depends on the day. Today happens to be one of the days that I don't feel great after going a good week and a half of feeling good.

Karl got up with me this morning to make breakfast for the both of us as well as get me the things that usually make me feel a little better which I have discovered after trying about a million things on the days I was feeling extra bad. He gave me sprite and tic tacs because both of those things work for me which I had while he ate breakfast while mine was on the side away from me so the smell didn't make me feel worse.

For the whole day Karl was so attentive and barely left my side so that he could take care of me and when he did have to go somewhere he took me with him so that he wasn't far from me at all times.

Wilbur:

I haven't really felt sick since before I found out about the pregnancy which has been so nice and I know I'm very lucky because a lot of people feel very sick for quite a long time. I have been able to eat all the things I normally would without anything making me feel ill which has made me very happy.

Tonight I'm making dinner for Wilbur and I and I had a tomato which I was cutting up and for some reason it made me feel very sick all of a sudden. I tried to keep going hoping it would go away but it got worse and I felt like I was going to throw up. I ran out of the kitchen and to the bathroom only just making it before I threw up.

Wilbur came into the bathroom seconds later and pulled my hair out of my face and rubbed my back until I was done. He got me some water and let me brush my teeth before picking me up and putting me on the sofa to sit down while he finished making dinner for us. It was weird because I could eat the tomato but the smell of preparing it was too much but it was kind of worth it because the meal was very nice.

From then on Wilbur said he was going to make dinner to avoid that happening again because he knows how much I hate throwing up and he didn't want me to if there was something he could do about it.

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1kook · 4 years

Text

youtube & use lube

part 7 of my netflix and chill collection!

summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. warnings: smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous: domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3 word count: 8.7k

notes: finally…. 7 parts later and we get ~✨💓sub kook💓✨~ this was honestly my fave to write I think because I was obSESSEDDD with his softness and yn leading hehe /.\ also yeah we time jumped 6 months bc uhmmm 😎 story progression also here’s [ THE KOOK U SHOULD IMAGINE FOR THIS 😡 ] also if see a typo ummm no u didn't .

let me know what u think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

Despite what past experiences may dictate, Jungkook’s body is actually quite resilient. It’s due in part to his obnoxiously healthy lifestyle; avocado breakfasts, gym rat tendencies, and a normal person’s circadian rhythm (you could never relate). He lives the life health professionals can only dream of writing down in their notes, so careful of his well-being that it’s almost annoying. Of all the habits you help him break, the rituals he sometimes forgets, his health is never one and it’s actually one he ropes you into quite often. The ladder accident last summer had truly been an odd occurrence, and for a while after, you doubt anything else will ever happen to him.

And then winter comes.

Now, Jungkook, with all his superior bodily systems and strict lifestyle, is still not immune to the common cold. So when he comes down with a stuffy nose, a saggy frame, you’re not too surprised. It’s right after New Year’s, which you had spent it at one of Taehyung’s classic overcrowded parties this year, shivering on a rooftop as he kissed you silly under the fireworks, so one of you was bound to get sick. And you were sick for Halloween, so it’s only the universe’s way of leveling the playing field when he gets sick after New Years.

What does surprise you is when he doesn’t bounce back right away. Usually, Jungkook’s high caliber immune system has him in tip top shape about two days later. But this time around, it takes a while. In fact, it takes longer than usual, and you don’t realize until you’re coming over on a Friday night, met with an unusual silence at the Jeon household.

As you slowly grew accustomed to your life out of school, you and Jungkook accepted that you didn’t really have time to be glued to each other’s hips at all hours of the day. It was only natural that sometimes you had too much work, were too tired, or were just not in the mood to visit each other. That was fine, and you’ve come to quite appreciate this new routine, because it only made your heart flutter faster than before when you did see him next. You don’t have to see each other everyday, and that was fine; it was part of growing up together (and growing old together, your sappy heart says).

But today, this separation ends up being your downfall. Jungkook first showed signs of a cold on Monday, and now it was Friday and you hadn’t heard from him in two days. You’re beginning to suspect he’s come down with something severe— maybe that strain of the flu that he forgot to get vaccinated for this year —or even worse, dead.

Luckily, Jungkook isn’t dead, just sadly slumped across the end of his bed, nose a bright red and hair a tangled mess. “Oh no,” you frown, but there’s not an ounce of distress in your voice, because boy, was he cute.

He groans at the sight of you. “Don’t look at me,” he whimpers, hands fisting the sheets. “I’m ugly.”

You bite down on a smile, hang your bag on the hook behind his bedroom door. He’s barely making an effort to stay on the bed, clinging to the side with such powerless hands. “Absolutely hideous,” you play along, arms wrapping around his middle. Registering your touch, your support, he immediately releases what little grip he had and almost sends the two of you tumbling to the ground. “My poor baby,” you croon, manhandling him back into the comfort of his sheets.

Perhaps the reason you believed Jungkook was so immune was because, well, he never let you see him sick.

He was picky about his presentation to the world, always wanting to show his best side. And well, you were in that world. Hell, you were probably the main person he wanted to show off for (not to toot your own horn), so he avidly avoided showing you his unpleasant sides. Even in college, when you had been practically stuck to his side, he had always made a big deal of pushing you away when he was sick, calling off dates and hiding away at his house.

You sort of knew why. Namjoon had told you once that Jungkook when drunk was the equivalent of a needy, whiny baby. You could attest to that because wine drunk Jungkook and vodka drunk Jungkook were quite the experiences to haul home. And apparently Jungkook when sick was more or less the same. He was all doe eyes and pouty lips, magnified by his weakened appearance. He was adorable.

He’s wearing a lot of layers, but it’s still winter so you don’t think too much of it. Dark long sleeve sweatshirt, the front tucked into some cute brown and black checkered pants. You see it as just some casual at home attire until you reach for his covers, hand brushing his hair from his face, only to find it ice cold.

“Oh, you’re freezing, honey,” you frown, for real this time. Jungkook whimpers, snuggles into the sheets you pull up to his chin. He dozes off soon after, pouty lips chapped to hell and back. You reach for your chapstick, deciding to get one good use of it on your own lips before contaminating it with Jungkook’s sick germs. Even in his sleep he’s a good boy, rolling his lips together after you’ve applied it on him.

With Jungkook knocked out, you pad back downstairs and into his kitchen. You can more or less infer that he’s come down with something a little more intense than a cold. His skin was cold, and his nose was runny, but, oddly enough, he wasn’t sweating. You decide to consult a professional.

“The little gremlin is sick?” Doyeon repeats, a comforting buzz in your ear as you get to work making Jungkook your famous Get Better Soon Soup, idly waiting for the water to boil over. You confirm. Doyeon, legend that she was, accidentally sat an entire physiology class one semester (and passed), so this is the closest you’ll get to a doctor friend. “Hm,” she says, “what’re his symptoms?”

You press your phone between your ear and shoulder, clattering around Jungkook’s kitchen for ingredients. “Runny nose and colder than your ass that one time you passed out in the snow,” you supply. “Oh, but not sweating.”

Doyeon hums over the line, tells you to give her a second, and disappears. “WebMD is saying fever, but you said he’s not sweating?” You confirm again. “Throw him in front of the heater and make him sweat then. He has to burn it out somehow.”

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, pausing when you hear some vague sound from around the house. It’s not Jungkook, so you return to your call. Anyway, Jungkook’s house is, like, perfect. Always warm when need be and always cold as well. You don’t even think he knows what a space heater is. “He’s sick sick. Like, can barely hold himself up sick.”

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Anyway, Jungkook probably has a fever, except it’s weird because he’s not sweating it out. He wakes up about an hour later, but this time he’s more self aware. He eats his soup and takes the medicine you offer him. Afterwards, he can’t go back to sleep so he huffily asks for his iPad and begins watching some weirdly specific YouTube videos you don’t think you’ve ever seen him watch before.

You have absolutely no idea what he’s watching, some niche videos of guys in Singapore turning random forest areas into underwater pools? You don’t know. Jungkook seems interested, though, for all of ten minutes until he falls asleep again.

He’s still cold, poor baby, nose like an ice cube that just won’t melt. You find a heating pad you left over in his closet and place it on his chest. Your thought process is that if his heart, the source of all energy, was warm, then certainly the rest of him will warm up soon enough. Yeah, you missed the last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; you were a little rusty.

So with Jungkook fast asleep and nothing else to do, you assume the age-old, patriarchal task of cleaning around the house.

His house was usually neat and tidy, mostly as a result of Jungkook’s virgo manifestations, but even those varied. His living room tended to be spotless, but his personal office was a different story. But with him having been out of it this past week, the entire house is littered in tiny garbage that would make Normal Jungkook burst a blood vessel.

There’s a pile of Reese’s wrappers in the downstairs bathroom, on the sink next to his toothbrush. The sight makes you sad, because your poor boy must have been struggling if he was eating candy in the bathroom, where he… uses the bathroom. And then that thought makes you even sadder, thinking back to all the times he was sick and alone, fending for himself out of his weird embarrassment of showing normal body functions.

You had thought he was cute when you first arrived— he still was —but he was also so weak and frail, bulky muscles rendered useless by whatever bacteria was attacking his body, making him sleepy and in pain for god knows how long. With a resolute nod, you sweep all the wrappers into the trash and decide to do your very best at helping Jungkook get through this sickness and bounce back better than ever.

Before leaving his bathroom, you ransack his cabinets, deciding he probably keeps most of his antibiotics here. It’s a spot you never really snoop around, because Jungkook always keeps a fully stocked basket in his closet filled with your typical necessities— from conditioner to pads to nail polish remover, he kept it all. And furthermore, you always tended to use his upstairs bathroom anyway, so that’s where your toothbrush and the like were kept. There was really no need for you to ever look through the downstairs bathroom’s cabinet. So the downstairs bathroom cabinet is practically the other side of the world to you, a culture shock so strong it has you plopping down in front of it to thoroughly sift through.

He’s got a disgusting amount of hair products, none of which you actually think you’ve ever seen him use, and a maniacal amount of tooth stuff. Now, you were quite possibly the biggest proponent for dental care, but this was ridiculous. Four packs of floss on reserve, and about three cases of those dental picks. A whole family pack of toothbrushes and one of those cute little cases for his retainer you’ve seen a few times.

So overwhelmed with his ungodly stash of dental hygiene utilities, you almost miss the pretty pink tube hidden in the very back corner.

You’re thinking it’s some makeup primer you left before that he mistook for moisturizer, probably dumped it with all his other things, only to find out you are very, very wrong.

Sensation Warming Lubricant: NOW! in strawberry flavor

You blink.

Lubricant? Jungkook was using lubricant? Strawberry, sensation warming lubricant?!

Somewhere in your mind you had convinced yourself that Jungkook was a simple man, a lotion at his bedside drawer type of man. He had you for the last one and half year, and you two fucked like rabbits, so you hardly doubt he was jacking it alone these days. And even if he was, why on earth was he so specific about the type of lube he uses?

You turn the bottle around, eyes scanning for an expiration date or something of the like, only to find that the copyright symbol was under this current year. The year that had just started, like, two weeks ago.

Oh, so this was new.

You turn it over, eyes scanning over the warnings like it’ll tell you something about your boyfriend you don’t know yet, some other hidden secret that he’s maybe held from you. Granted, owning lube isn’t really a big deal, but the fact he’s got it so hidden away (not really, it was casually sitting beside his sunscreen) was definitely something to zero in on.

Strawberry flavored, you read again, warming, stimulating, edible? Forget his weirdly extensive floss collection, you had stumbled upon something amazing in here, the goddamn Hope Diamond among snooping girlfriend finds. You’ll confront him about this later, you decide, when he’s back to normal and not whiningly calling your name from upstairs. You pocket it for now, tucking it into your cardigan pockets for said later interrogation, and bound up the stairs to him again.

He’s sitting up in bed like a very angry and confused toddler, brows furrowed sharply like he’s mad. Actually, he just can’t see, the light from the hallway blinding him, so you shut the door and flick on his bedside lamp for him instead. “Hi, honey,” you coo, sitting down on the edge beside him. He’s still waking up, leaning a little too heavily into your palm when you cup his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out, but he’s definitely looking better than before. You don’t know if you imagine it, but there’s this slowly accumulating sweat that forms along the base of his neck. “Please don’t leave again,” he says softly, droopy eyes glassy.

Something shoots straight to your heart— an arrow from Cupid himself! —that makes you stroke his cheek tenderly until his eyelids are fluttering shut again. “I won’t,” you promise, feeling around for his iPad. He doesn’t seem like he’ll fall back asleep, sitting up with more strength than he had that morning.

You end up climbing behind him, let him be the little spoon you know he secretly craves to be, as he watches his weird YouTube videos again. His body is so warm against yours, but his skin is still so cold. If what Doyeon had said was true, it’s no wonder he’s kept the same sickness all week. The rhythmic sound of machetes hacking at the earth and water trickling through bamboo pipes grows on you, makes you fall into a sense of comfort behind him, arms tracing circles over his chest.

It’s a mindless habit, one you actually do a lot. Most of the time, it’s when he’s at his desk and stressed out, your masseuse hands making an appearance to soothe the muscles in his neck and chest from being hunched over for so long. Even now, your fingers unconsciously press into the fabric over his pecks, tickle up his sternum until he’s melting against you.

It takes one quiet whimper from him to let you know exactly how he’s feeling. “Everything alright?” you inquire, halting your movements over his chest. Jungkook nods shakily, head lolling forward. The nape of his neck calls to you, whispers for a kiss that you tenderly bestow upon it. It makes Jungkook jolt, another pretty sound leaving his lips at the press of your warm lips against his sensitive neck.

“No more,” he mumbles, rolls his head around until it’s resting against your shoulder, giving you a clear view down his chest. You slide your hands back up from where they’d gone stiff just around his ribs, let them palm over his pecs. Jungkook’s hips buck, a minuscule movement you almost miss.

His heart thunders like the inside of a horse race track beneath your palm, breath picking up just from the simple motion of your hands on his chest. It’s on the fourth circle around his pecs that you feel your pinky briefly catch on something. “Poor thing,” you sigh, running the pad of your pointer finger over the hardened nipple that peaks beneath his sweatshirt. “Is this what was bothering you?”

A shaky exhale in response, hands tightly clutching at his iPad and beloved YouTube video genre. “N-No,” he denies, but you chance a peak at his face, where his lips are bitten a rosy pink color, its slightly muted sister rushing down his cheeks, over his neck.

You press the lightest of kisses to the side of his neck, and he shivers. “Need me to take care of you?” you purr, trail your hands down his chest towards where the hem of his sweater sits. You run your finger over it twice, before moving to slip your hand beneath. Your fingers brush along his abs, contracted tightly at your touch, and slowly make their way back up his chest.

Fingers find his pebbled nipples, a gasp escaping his lips. “Does this feel good?” you ask softly, pinching the swollen nubs between your fingers. Jungkook groans, body arching just the slightest as you rub his nipples, tug and twist them until he’s a whining mess. “Need you to tell me, honey,” you encourage, lips ghosting over his neck.

The second kiss has him flinching as well, head rapidly turning the other way as you slowly kiss over his neck. “___, please,” he pants, knuckles pale on the sides of the iPad. You're afraid it’ll snap, if not from his grip then from the way he pushes at it, like he’s breaking a wooden board over his knee. It’s still on YouTube, playing another video from the same collection, volume competing with Jungkook’s tiny sounds.

Pressing your lips to his neck, you kiss along it slowly, reveling in the lovely noises that Jungkook produces the more you rub his nipples, lower body squirming animatedly before you. Your kisses grow wet for a short period, suck purple blossoms across his skin until Jungkook is quivering like a leaf. “E-Enough,” he begs, voice a wobbly mess that is so light and airy.

You grin, giving his rockhard nipples one last flick before sliding your hands down his chest, over his stomach to toy with the elastic of his pants. He inhales sharply, iPad nearly snapped in half mid video. Ready to play with him some more (and slightly afraid for the future of his tablet), you reach out a hand to move it away, set it off to the side.

But Jungkook doesn’t release it. In fact, he clings to the damn piece of tech tighter than before. “Hmm?” you murmur, bottom lip brushing against his neck once more. “Not letting go, sweetheart?”

He shakes his head, soft crown of curls bouncing from the movement. “Can’t, can’t,” he shivers. His knees shift back and forth, move between being casually spread and flush together. Like he’s hiding something, using the iPad and the videos on screen as cover. You tug at his wrist and Jungkook shakes his head again.

You change tactics, hand sliding around his wrist instead. The other travels up, up, up, comes curling around the base of his neck. Jungkook whimpers, tilts his head back for you cutely at the first brush of your fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Thought you were my good boy?” you ask, eyes zeroed in on the tremble of his lower lip.

Jungkook exhales shakily, a rather torn expression crossing his features. “I am,” he insists, fingers still tight “I am your good boy.”

You smile, stroking the front of his neck softly as you lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You are, aren’t you?” He whimpers. “Then let go, honey,” you murmur, hand on his wrist giving another experimental tug. Still, his grip remains solid. “Jungkook,” you snap, “let go.”

“Y-You’ll laugh,” he cries, yet his grip slowly weakens. It’s with a swift tug that the iPad tumbles to his side, presses against his hip, and shows you the raging hard-on that stirs beneath the front of his cotton pants. Pressed nearly beside your ear, Jungkook shivers.

Ever so slowly, your hands return to their place around his waist. “Why would I laugh, sweetheart?” you mumble, marveling at the way his cock twitches and jumps beneath his pants before you can even touch it. His shirt is hiked up just above his abs, your hands tenderly stroking over the skin beneath his navel, but it’s got Jungkook writhing. “Hips up for me,” you instruct.

He shakes even when he pushes himself up, knees wobbling as you slip your hands beneath his waistband and tug them down his thighs. Afterwards, his legs flop forward flatly, spread out with his beautiful swollen cock on display against his hip.

You trap it at the base and Jungkook mewls, hands fisting the sheets now that his beloved iPad has been snatched away. It’s still playing his videos, interrupting his saccharine moans with corny ads every few minutes. A hand snaps up to join, opposite of yours, until your fingers are entwined around his dick. How romantic, you think, discreetly rolling your hips back against the mattress. “Gonna help me make you cum?” you ask instead, give him a light squeeze that makes him jolt.

“Uh huh,” he responds, feathery.

You reward him with a kiss to his cheek, reaching up to brush away the hair that’s begun sticking to his forehead. In the very back of your head you recognize this as being good for his fever, but the rest of you is more concerned with the pretty pout on his lips. “Hold tight for me,” you smile, releasing his cock to press your finger against the very tip of his cock where a pearly drop of precum has begun forming. “So pretty, Jungkookie,” you praise, teasing the length of your finger over the slit on his head. It has that juicy droplet coating your finger, gliding seamlessly over and over again.

The simple touch makes him buck, has him blindly wrapping an arm around your bent knee that was pressed to his side this whole time. He squeezes around you rather weakly, the majority of his strength going to holding his cock tightly like you’d instructed. He’s such a good boy for you, trying his absolute best, even when you’re very obviously overwhelming him.

You roll the flat side of your finger over him, his mushroom tip slowly growing more and more slick as he produces more precum. It’s shiny, fits perfectly between your clasped fingers when you squeeze around his head. Jungkook’s breath turns labored.

He’s always so well kept down there, skin so smooth and free of hairs, and you know he does it because he wants to impress you. “So pretty, baby,” you hum, acknowledging his efforts. Your praise makes Jungkook moan, suddenly fucking up into his hand. It’s accidental, because he hisses at the drag of his dry palm around his relatively dry dick immediately.

“Hurts, hurts,” he whimpers prettily, lower lip caught between his teeth.

You frown, slide your wet fingers down the base of his cock until they’re wrapping around his and Jungkook’s little gasps even out. “I’m sorry, baby, you gotta be patie—“

Something presses against your hip, something distinctly hard that you had hastily picked up from his bathroom cabinet earlier, and a whole new door opens before your eyes. “Hold still for me,” you tell him quickly as you release your grip around his cock. Jungkook wails at the separation, but you’re more concerned with wrestling the tube out of your pocket with one hand. It’s heavy in your palm, turning over until that big fat label on front comes into view again.

Jungkook explodes at the sight. “Wh— Where did you find that?” he stammers, cheeks ablaze. “I-I don’t know where that came fro—“

You ignore him, hold the bottle of lubricant over his stomach as you uncap it, a gooey pink substance spilling over into your hands the moment the lid pops off. Jungkook is still rambling away about the origins of the bottle, as if you care. You set the bottle on his tummy, the cold plastic makes him shiver. But you know what’s not cold? The warming lube in your hands that only takes three rubs of your palms to activate.

You latch down like a crazed animal around his cock. With both your hands fighting to grip at his cock, you’re pressed closer against Jungkook, lips against the shell of his ear.

The initial touch makes him sob, back arching and legs kicking at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed as your slick hands track the lube over his dick. “No!” he cries, hands wildly reaching out to grab whatever he can as you slowly get to work pulling him off. “I-I can’t, __, I can’t.”

“You can,” you coo, watching the translucent pink substance coat his cock, join his sticky precum.

Maybe you get overexcited in your efforts, forget Jungkook is the way he is right now because he was still a little weak from his fever, but you go crazy on stroking his cock. One hand lingers around the base, squeezing and rolling over his balls, palm pressing against the hardened sac and squeezing there too. The other focuses at the tip, does most of the actual stroking over his cock. His head is leaking precum now, every stroke and squeeze making him shudder and push out another drop, until it’s mixing with the lube to form a sticky sweet substance that you wanna lick at so bad.

So you do.

You release one hand to curiously bring it up to your face, turning it over and around as you examine the stickiness on your fingers, the fat drop that unintentionally drips onto the front of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He sobs at the sight of your lips around your fingers, squirms and bucks into the hand still on his cock until he’s embarrassingly coming. “I’m sorry,” he wails, hands fisting the sheets, fucking into your hand like a virgin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.”

You draw your hand away, watching in slow motion the cum that just spurted from his cock come dribbling down the slowly softening length now. “Oh, sweetheart,” you croon, hands on his tummy. The bottle of lube slips to the side, meets the still playing iPad at his hip. It’s sticky and gross to touch him like this, especially when you know Jungkook hates being unnecessarily dirty, but you can’t stop yourself from softly caressing him, soothe him after such a hard-hitting orgasm.

Honestly you had thought he would hold up a little more, let you get in a few more strokes, but he must’ve been more sensitive than you thought. “I’m sorry,” he cries again, head lolling to the side to meet your gaze with watery eyes.

You tilt his head to the side, angle him just right for you to bestow your first kiss of the night against his little pout. Jungkook hiccups, melts against you as you slowly guide him through the kiss. He’s sloppy and shy, moves nothing like your normal Jungkook, and that fact alone has you slipping your tongue past his lips. He doesn’t fight back, just lets you play with him and sighs all delicately against your mouth.

There’s something about this, his soft and submissive attitude, that has you pulling away to look at him. Big brown eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, and plush lips that call your name. And yet.

“Open,” you murmur, hypnotized by the way that tiny mouth moves.

“Huh?” Jungkook flushes, but he’s so good, he’s your good boy, and does so anyway. Lower lip quivers as he parts his lips, stuttering exhales creeping through as you purse your lips, let the saliva collect on your mouth, before rudely spitting into his. He flinches, whimpers softly, and swallows. He looks at you with these expectant eyes, like he wants to hear how much of a good boy he is, so you do exactly that.

You brush his bangs away lovingly. “Aren’t you just so good for me,” you purr, revel in the way his eyes flutter shut at your touch, like you could never hurt him, and you won’t.

As sweet as the moment is, there’s a raging fire in your core begging to be stroked, and your hyperfixation on Jungkook’s mouth lets you know there’s only one way to chase the feeling. “Up,” you tell Jungkook, who whimpers sadly when you finally escape from behind him.

But you don’t get too far, settling beside him on the bed until you’re looking at the damage you’ve caused from the front. His skin is sticky in some places, pink sheen of the lube decorating him from your incessant touching. Pants around his thighs, shirt against his chest. His face is flushed, all the way down to his chest and up to his ears, so rosy and pink all for you. He shies away under your gaze, drops his head to his chin bashfully.

You grin, shuffle forward to turn those pretty eyes back towards you. “Messy little thing,” you tease, slotting your mouths together again. Jungkook moans this time, lazily kissing you back. His lips move in slow motion, trembling hands reaching for your face to cup, your name falling from his lips when you pull away slightly. “Need you to help me out now,” you murmur, hand on his jaw. “Can you do that, honey?” Jungkook nods hurriedly, eyes foggy and on your mouth. “Lay back.”

He does so, rushes to lay against the pillows until he’s flat on his back. You get to work on your clothes, shed your cardigan and languidly tug your top over your head in the way you know makes your breasts bounce. Beneath you, Jungkook whines at the sight. “You too,” you remind him, wiggling out of your jeans. At your instruction, he begins fumbling with his clothes, pants and underwear haphazardly thrown over the edge of the bed.

By the time you’re naked, you’re met with a rather amusing sight.

In his haste to take his clothing off, Jungkook seems to have gotten himself tangled in his long sleeves, shirt awkwardly bunched up around his wrists and twisted over some. You chuckle. “Help please,” he asks so politely, shaking his arms back and forth above his head. But you’re genuinely confused as to what he did, because one of the sleeves wraps around the other, pins the bulk of the fabric to his skin, and then the other wraps around that. A mess you don’t bother dissecting, simply climbing over him. He complains, of course, soft huffs you wave off.

“Don’t need them anyway,” you shrug, can’t help the lovesick look you send him when you brush his hair away for the umpteenth time. Jungkook leans into the touch sweetly, rosy cheek pressed against your palm. “Lemme see your pretty little tongue,” you order, pussy clenching when he does as told and rolls his tongue out for you, tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

A soft whimper, and then you’re shuffling over him, pretty doe eyes watching with amazement when you finally hover over his face. “For me?” he asks so softly, so sweetly.

It’s a question you’ve heard him utter countless times before in similar settings, always with a cocky grin and mean eyes, ready to send you to hell and back with his tongue or his cock. But it’s different now, big shiny eyes looking at you like you’re the greatest thing to ever happen in his life, so pliant and demure beneath your touch like he lived to serve you.

“All for you,” you assure him, get comfortable, and slowly lower your pussy over his face. His eyes flutter shut immediately, pink tongue ready for you by the time your dripping cunt nears his face.

You can’t help the moan that tears itself from your throat, a soft cry as he begins lapping against your folds. He’s so tender, so careful. It drives you crazy. Hands above his head squirming as you slowly grind your pussy over his face, more mindful than usual because he was so delicate tonight, like a baby bird that shivers with the simplest touch.

His tongue is smooth, circles around your clit. He nudges your bundle of nerves back and forth a few times, sends an initial wave of tingles down your spine, before taking it between puckered lips. His slurps it into his mouth, where it’s so hot and wet, it makes your grind stutter. “Oh,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “P-Perfect,” you mumble.

The praise makes his features twist up cutely, mouth desperate to get more out of you. “You like that?” you gasp, holding his head still as he runs his tongue along your folds. Jungkook nods, eyes glazed over as he messily begins eating you out. “Like when I tell you you’re a good boy, Jungkookie?”

He lets out a broken whine, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making you shiver. Tongue pressed in at your entrance, prods gently like it’s his first time (it’s not) and he’s gauging your reactions. “Oh baby,” you shudder, fingers tightening in his curls.

He looks like an angel beneath you like this, halo of curls artfully splayed across the sheets, arms knotted above his head. Big pretty eyes that make you want to lay down and be his bitch instead, their power just so strong even when he’s whining and whimpering against your pussy like this. His tongue dips into your cunt, makes you buck against him by accident. “I’m sorry, angel,” you breathe, so caught up in your thoughts that the name just slips. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, arms tug at their makeshift restraints. But his brain is scattered, torn between releasing himself, eating you out, and being shy.

He settles soon enough, ends up just sticking his tongue out flat for you to grind against, using the grip in his curls to drag your pussy over his face. His scalp feels warm, sweat clinging to his hairline. He sighs endearingly against you, and it’s that final puff of warm air against your folds that has you coming, cum dripping over his lips and chin sinfully.

When you finish, you quickly get off of him, lay down beside him. Jungkook is panting softly, tongue peeking out to taste the cum that splattered against the corner of his lips. “You were so good for me,” you praise, idly dragging your finger across his skin, collecting your cum on the tip.

Jungkook looks at you with a heavy gaze, knotted wrists slowly returning to rest over his abdomen. “Can you… Can you call me that again?” he asks hesitantly, so shy and polite.

“Hm?” you ask. “Angel?” His lips part, an awfully aroused look crossing his features. You smile, press your cum loaded finger against his lips and he opens, sucks around your finger and moans. “My pretty little angel,” you purr, slowly thrusting your finger in and out of his mouth. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning over to kiss him again, swallowing his cries in your desperate need to taste yourself on his tongue. Jungkook is more active this time around, daringly challenging your tongue with his before ultimately giving up, languidly following the pace you set for the kiss. You pull off with a pop, leave him dazed and trailing after your mouth cutely.

You pat his cheek once, offer him a tender smile, before moving to get up and clean up. Jungkook whines at your departure, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you realize why.

Half hard cock at his hip, fattening slowly but surely. Instantly, it’s like the post-orgasm fatigue is yanked away, pussy throbbing at the sight of your angel and his cock, swelling from eating you out and kissing. He was too good to be true.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sigh dramatically, shifting onto your knees at his hip to look at him. Something pokes your leg; it’s the stupid iPad playing his dorky YouTube videos that you click off and chuck to the other side of the bed. You had had enough of that by now.

He’s not at full mast yet, and he’s not getting there quick enough for your liking. So you take matters into your own hands. (Besides, what was stopping you tonight? Certainly not this soft, pliant Jungkook.)

Kneeling between his legs, you reach for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirt a fat glob into your hands, then decide that isn’t enough and squirt it directly onto your chest. Jungkook watches with wide eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. “What— What’re you doing?” he stammers, can’t even sit up with his hands held together. “__, y-you don’t have—“

Squeezing your breasts together, you slip his cock between the crevice, watch as his angry head comes out on the other side so easily, so slippery. Oh, this was gonna be post-work, shower-time, spank bank material for months.

Jungkook sobs, loud and unfiltered at the sight, expression torn as he watches you slowly work your tightened breasts down his quickly hardening member. “T-Too much, too much,” he cries, squirming and bucking beneath you. “I-I’ll come—”

“Don’t,” you snap, stilling your moments to flick your eyes back to him. His head is rolled back, jaw strained, but when he manages to lift it up and look down at you, there’s tears that streak his cute face, trails that glisten when the lowlight of the lamp hits him just right. “Don’t fucking come yet, Jungkook.”

He sniffles weakly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “But I— it feels,” he blubbers, knotted hands reaching down for the base of his cock. You slap it away. “___, please,” he wails, face flushed from all his conflicting emotions.

Ignoring his cries, you get back to work, moving your upper body to and fro to simulate the thrusting motion he is too weak to do himself. He whimpers pitifully, more tears leaving his eyes when you lean down and spit on the head of his cock when it emerges next, make it join the rest of the ungodly fluids painting your chest. Honestly, you’re certain it’s that damned strawberry flavored, sensation warming, edible lube that makes this experience so enjoyable, so mind-blowing.

Jungkook seems to agree, stuttering out a messy whine. “Feels weird,” he snivels, only to be cut off when you release him from in between your tits. Immediately, he begins lamenting the loss.

Slowly, you ease him back in. You’re beginning to understand the intensity of that damned warming lube, because with each glide of his cock between your breasts, it’s like a tingle of nerves sparks within you, insides folding in on themselves as they channel all their energy to that one area of hastily spread lube. It feels so good and wet and messy, Jungkook’s whiny sniffles only fueling the experience. His cock twitches dangerously, and you flash him a glare. “Jungkook,” you warn.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, thrashing back and forth as if that makes it any easier. “I just— I want,” he chokes, hips bucking into the suction you’ve created between your boobs. Tentatively, you stick your tongue out, let his tip brush against it on the next thrust. Jungkook curses, a feral groan escaping his lips. “Wanna fuck,” he seethes, “now.”

It’s but a slight peek into his regular personality, his normal mannerisms. But something about it now annoys you. In fact, it pisses you off, seeing him be so complacent and sweet just to try and overthrow you at the last second. And it’s with this same train of thought that you release him, climb over him like a crazed sex demon, and press your hand to his throat.

“You're supposed to be good,” you spit, scowl turned on him and it immediately has Jungkook drawing back with his tail tucked, falling into line as he should. “You’re supposed to be my angel tonight, remember?”

Jungkook nods, big round eyes looking at you like you’re insane, but the cock that presses against your ass tells you that he likes it. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, shrinking back into the mattress. Sticky hands around his throat, probably make him warm and tingly, but all you can think about is those pretty eyes. Sensing your wavering emotions, he takes advantage by tilting his chin forward for you cutely, pink lips trembling as he silently asks for a kiss.

You release him.

“Stupid angel,” you huff, mouth against his. “Gonna make me mad if you don’t act right,” you remind him, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. He whimpers against your mouth, let’s you play with his hair as you calm down. He’s a blushing mess beneath you, every inch of him flushed and warm and sweaty.

You shift back and are met with his still rock hard member against your ass. You touch him appreciatively, reaching back to stroke him with a half-assed grip. It makes him moan nonetheless, pulling away from your lips to mewl against your shoulder. “Wanna fuck?” you hum, curling your hand over the tip like he likes, watching his head roll back against his pillow at the sensation. Jungkook groans, doesn’t seem to hear you now. You try again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasps this time, jolts when you press the tip of your finger against the slit on his head, plug his cock from releasing any more precum. “Please, please,” he begs, the hands on his chest straining against the shirt he still hasn’t managed to shake off.

One last kiss is delivered to him, a chaste one against his pout that makes him whine. “Whatever you want,” you purr, line him up.

Your hands are still sticky with the lube and so is his cock. Everything is sticky; his cock, you folds, your tits, his neck. It’s a big sticky, slippery mess, but you can’t even be annoyed because everything feels so good. Your tits tingle from whatever they put in that damn lube, nipples rock hard and extra swollen today, like if you don’t touch them you’ll die. You sink back into Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and the second his cock spreads the lube along your walls, you’re jolting because it just feels so damn good.

You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.

His cock pushes past your folds, fits snugly inside of you just like it belongs. It still feels like the first time, feels like your first day where he was so perfect and sweet. Part of you wonders what would have become of you two if he had reacted like this that day, soft and whiny, when you first prepositioned him. Maybe the sexual aspect of your relationship would be entirely different today, maybe you’d be one the always leading.

But… you’re not sure if you’d want that. Leading is fun— hell, you’re certain this moment will be what you get engraved on your tombstone —but you were a pillow princess at heart with occasional dominant tendencies. You drool over this moment now, but if he asks for this again tomorrow you might actually bend over and die. It was a lot of work, keeping the energy going, and you find yourself having this newfound sense of respect for Jungkook as his cock slips past your folds.

Anyway, when you sit on his cock, fingers teasingly tightening around his throat, Jungkook’s eyes are weirdly focused on your tits. He’s been doing that a lot lately, losing his mind by just staring at your tits. On some occasions he puts them in his mouth, gets possessed by some titty loving monster and sucks on them until you’re trembling. It’s fine because it’s quite frankly a huge ego boost, but something him now makes you want to pick at him for it.

“They’re yours to taste, angel,” you hum, slowly rolling your hips over his fat cock. Jungkook whimpers, softly ruts up into your heat the next time you press down. “Tell me what you want,” you exhale, a breathy moan.

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his mouth open for you with a trembling lower lip. Tongue peeks out, eyes glazed over in his lust, looking every bit like those hentai ads he hates so much. But you fulfill his wishes, help him sit up until he’s flush against your chest. His awkwardly bound hands get squished in the middle, and he says, “m-my hands...”

“I’ve got you,” you soothe, undo his self-made restraints and toss them to the side. Immediately, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to latch his lips around your breasts. “S-Slow down,” you whine, hands on his biceps as he sucks your tit into his mouth, twirls his tongue around your nipple. He’s good with his tongue even when he’s sick.

He pulls off with a pop, ragged breathing only making you more sensitive as it fans over the thin layer of saliva he leaves on your tits. “Tastes like strawberries,” he groans wondrously, head against your chest. You use the lull to get back to fucking yourself on him, but Jungkook’s got other plans. He rolls the two of you over, pins you beneath him with his hot and sweaty body. “I’m sorry,” he moans as he begins jackhammering his thrusts into you.

Your back arches, legs thrown around his waist as the sudden change of events. “Fffuck,” you heave, “harder, angel— gotta fuck like you mean it.”

Jungkook shudders, hands looped around the small of your back. His cock rams into you over and over, each glide of it against the walls of your pussy making you unravel in his arms. His lips latch around your other boob, suck and suck like he’s expecting something to come out.

That’s when it hits you.

“N-Nothing there,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lashes are wet, eyes pinching tighter at your reminder. He pulls away almost to protest, but then you’re guiding him up to your face, hot breath mingling with yours. “Nothing there because you haven’t given me a baby yet,” you murmur darkly, watch the emotions flood his features as you tap into that taboo kink of his.

He chokes, grinds his cock into you and holds it there. “I-I didn’t,” he sniffs, “we never— you never said,” he whines, “...you wanted one.”

You cup his face in his hands, feel slightly mean for the pride you get from his tear stricken appearance. “I do,” you purr, lazily kissing him. “Want one if it’s from you. Don’t you?” He nods like an antsy puppy, quivering against you as he slowly and shallowly ruts into you. “Don’t you wanna see me like that, angel?” you egg on, hands looping behind his neck, idly playing with stray waves and curls. “Tummy so big and swollen because you did something bad, because you couldn’t pull out.”

Jungkook sobs, pulls you impossibly closer until the head of his cock is missing your cervix repeatedly. One of your legs is pressed nearly to your chest, hip tight from the force in which he holds you. “I-I want,” he agrees, more tears spilling down his cheeks.

You smirk evilly, kissing the corner of his mouth gently as he slowly picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Then fuck me hard, Jungkookie,” you demand, “fuck me full of your cum.”

Jungkook nods with a sniffle against your shoulder, fingers tightening against your skin as he slowly but surely begins nailing you into the mattress. He’s a good boy, always, because he does exactly what you tell him to. Uses those bulky muscles to hold you down, makes it impossible for you to move as he pistons his hips, cock sheathing itself inside your cunt.

Every drag makes you unconsciously clench, the raw feeling consuming your thoughts. His cock is so big and wet today, certainly due to that stupid lube from beneath his cabinet. Your entire pussy feels like it’s on ecstasy, stupidly geeked up by that lube, and you’re sure Jungkook’s cock feels the same. It makes the glide so much better, so much easier, each ram of his cock feeling so easy. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, nails digging down his spine. Jungkook is a sobbing, sniffling mess against the crook of your neck, absolute gibberish falling from his lips.

But you’re no better, tongue seemingly set on a chaotic rampage to validate every single one of his fantasies. “Gonna fuck me while I’m pregnant?” you pant against his ear, fingers tugging at his hair. He doesn’t offer more than a strained cry, thrusts momentarily falling out of rhythm. “You would like that, huh? Fucking me when you’re not supposed to. You’re so bad, Kook-ah,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Only pretend to be an angel but really you’re just a dirty, little pervert.”

He wails loudly, slams his hips so hard into you that it makes you sob as well. “N-No,” he blubbers, tears against your skin. “I’m good— I’m a good boy,” he stresses, fingers bruising their prints into your skin.

He presses so close, cock practically making your stomach bulge, but neither of you see. “Dirty angel,” you spit, yank his hair back roughly until he’s forced to look at you with that watery gaze. “So horny you’re willing to get me pregnant.”

Jungkook cries out, snaps his cock into you like he’s trying to break you in half. “No,” he heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto yours. “I-I-I’d do it right,” he defends weakly, hips losing their demonic pace as his orgasm sneaks up on him. “Ma— Marry first… then, b— ba— bab—“

You swallow his words with your lips, kiss him like you’re on the verge of death in a desperate attempt to hide your tears from him. They paint your cheeks in stark strokes, trail down your skin and make everything blurry, but so does your orgasm.

You come first, heart and body trembling at his unexpectedly sweet words, as you become a whimpering, teary mess beneath him. Jungkook follows, cries out your name one last time as he busts inside of you.

Sticky and gross, he falls onto the pillow beside you. Poor baby is so tired, curls covering half of his face, but lips cutely puckered against the pillow. He’s sweaty as hell though, which you now vaguely remember was your original goal with all of this so you count this as a success.

You think he’s fallen asleep, sitting up slowly and reaching for that t-shirt that bound him together earlier to clean up. He shudders when you run it against his skin, obviously still overwhelmed. You shift around the bed in search of today’s MVP. “Where’s the lube?” you mutter to yourself.

Jungkook groans. “YouTube?” he asks, voice dry as all hell.

“No, honey, the lube we used,” you respond, running your hands over the sheets for any signs of the pink bottle.

“Want YouTube,” he mumbles, lets you swaddle him up in the blanket again. You roll your eyes and reach for the forgotten iPad that had long since tumbled to the floor. When it turns on, that same video from before is on pause so you don’t bother changing it as you hand it back to Jungkook. “Nice,” he murmurs, “underground water slide.”

You snort. “Weirdo.” He glares cutely, eyes barely open at this point. “Watch your YouTube.”

“Use your lube,” he sasses back softly, nonsensically, and then rather anticlimactically passes out.

There’s something soft in your chest, something so big and overwhelming, that has you bending over his sleeping figure, mouth brushing against his. “Hurry and get better, angel,” you whisper, wish on it with all your heart.

To no one’s surprise, you get sick two days later. Doyeon laughs and laughs for hours about it, tells you that’s what you get for using sex as medicine. But Jungkook’s back to normal, which means he stays over and coddles you to death.

“Hurry and get better,” he says, spoon feeding you your famous Get Better Soon Soup that you passed on to him. “I have a question to ask you.”

There’s a little black box in his downstairs bathroom cabinet that you swear you’ve never seen, but Jungkook knows you’re lying.

It fits perfectly.

epilogue

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

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