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sometimesanalice · 2 months

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Between Friends

Summary: Bradley and you don’t talk about that Spring Break. But a single question asked during a night out at the Hard Deck might just change things between the two of you forever.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 11K

Warning: smut (including loss of virginity), brief mention of underage drinking, and college!bradley in a backwards hat

(Author's note: Happy Birthday Jordan! I wrote this just for you! Look at me keeping secrets from you! Enjoy!)

𝐍𝐎𝐖

Rooster couldn’t control his bouncing leg.

That night at the Hard Deck had started out like any other: good music, good drinks, good people. Over the course of the evening, he’d found himself seated between you and Bob in a lopsided circle with the rest of the Daggers around a few tall tables that had been pushed together just shooting the shit.

It was all fun and games until swapping stories about embarrassing middle school moments turned into cringing over first kiss stories turned into Seresin grinning like a shark asking about how everyone’s first time went down.

Rooster felt his pulse kick up with every collective laugh and groan as his friends went one by one sharing how they’d lost their virginities. Because with each passing story, it meant that you were one person closer to going. And for the first time in his life- even after over two decades of friendship- he didn’t know what your answer was going to be.

So he is just as shocked as his teammates are when you tentatively reveal, “So, um, my first time was with Rooster.” He doesn’t miss the way all his friends’ heads snap towards him.

All eyes are on the two of you, and you’re pointedly looking anywhere but him.

Rooster had been anxiously waiting to hear the story of your first official time, the one that was with someone who wasn’t him. He didn’t realize that you still considered him your first. He’d figured that part of your history had long been overwritten by whoever had been lucky enough to catch your eye and make your heart race in a romantic way.

The two of you had never talked about it in the after.

Not once, not ever.

He didn’t care that people knew, he just wasn’t expecting it.

Jake starts the group out of its stunned silence by slapping a heavy hand on top of the table, nearly sending some bottles to the floor, “I knew it! I knew y’all couldn’t have been friends all this time and not have tried it out at least once.”

“Jesus Christ, dude, chill,” Javy mutters. He’s always been the better of the two about reading the room.

Trying to spare you from being put on the spot even more than you already were now, Rooster mumbles through the way he’d lost his to a girl from his AP Econ class after a playoff baseball game.

He stares at the way you’re nervously picking at the label of the Blue Moon he’d grabbed for you when he went to get a refill of his own. He can practically hear the way your brain is buzzing. He wonders if you wish you could take back the words from where they are sitting on the table with the collection of bottles and peanut shells for everyone to see.

Bob being the team player that he is starts talking about how he’d lost his one summer in college to another camp counselor, going into more detail than he’s ever given before, probably trying to redirect the attention to himself to give the two of you a moment to regroup.

Rooster makes a mental note to tell Penny to put all of Bob’s cream sodas from now on on his own tab.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. Or where to look. Or where to put his hands. He wants to talk to you, but there’s no good way for him to go about it without drawing even more attention to the two of you.

You were supposed to be going on a first date tonight, but he’d talked you into canceling to hang out with him instead. He likes having all of your attention on him. And maybe he’s been a little selfish with you, because he doesn’t like to share you with anyone else. You’ve always been his best friend.

Rooster likes that he gets to talk to you whenever he wants now, and that it doesn’t feel like a never-ending game of catch up anymore. In the year since the Uranium mission, he’d felt like all the fragmented pieces of his life had finally come together. He’d reconnected with Mav, he was living in the same city as his best friend, and he had a place he could finally call home.

He didn’t just want the highlights with you, he wanted everything in between too. There’s no more distance due to time zones and scheduling times to call because now you only live 20 minutes away from him. And the next time he comes home from a deployment, he knows he’ll get to look forward to seeing you there waiting for him.

He feels like he’s learned so much more about the grown-up version of you over the last year than he has in the last ten.

Jake jumps in barely a breath after Bob finishes telling his story. “Well, we all know it’s not the first who matters, but who was the best.” Rooster doesn’t trust the gleam in his eyes or the sharp smile on his face. “Since Bradshaw cut you off before, how’s about you go first this time, darlin’. You can tell us about who knocked your socks off. Maybe this time he’ll let you finish, if you know what I mean.”

It’s thinly veiled snooping disguised as chivalry, and it doesn’t fool anyone. Nat’s eyes dart to him briefly, trying to get a read on him.

He’d been 21 at the time. And while he knows more now that he did then, he also knows his name isn’t going to be coming out of your mouth for a second time tonight.

Rooster takes a sip of his beer, needing something to do.

He knows you’ve been with other people. You’d lived with your ex for over a couple years, for fuck's sake. But it was like an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not talk about your sex lives with each other.

His leg starts bouncing again and he realizes he really doesn’t want to hear this. Not because of his ego, but because he doesn’t know what to do about the knot that’s formed in his stomach.

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times before you speak, “That title would also go to Rooster.” The admission is soft, but sure.

Where his heart had been pounding before, now it feels like it had stopped completely.

It’s been 13 years since that Spring Break. 13 years and he’s still your best?

Barely five minutes ago, he hadn’t known where to look. But now? Now he couldn’t stop staring at you.

He just didn’t understand why you still wouldn’t look at him back.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

When you’d floated the idea by Bradley about visiting him at UVA for Spring Break during your weekly phone call, you’d been braced for the disappointment of him already having plans. It was his Senior year, it wouldn’t surprise you if he wanted to go out with a bang and make the most of it. Especially since he would belong to the Navy soon enough.

But he’d taken you by surprise when he started enthusiastically listing off all the places he wanted to show you, planning out your trip like a well-seasoned travel agent before you’d even booked a plane ticket.

You’d started looking up airfare before you’d even hung up the phone. And thirty minutes later you had a confirmation email flagged in your inbox after elatedly charging that aisle seat to the credit card you only used for emergencies.

It had been close to a year since you’d last seen him. He usually spent his Winter Break with your family, but this year he’d stayed on campus for the holidays and it was the longest the two of you had ever been apart since you’d first met him when you were 8.

And maybe that’s why it took you so long to spot him in the Arrivals area of the Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport.

You’ve always prided yourself in being able to pick Bradley out of a crowd anywhere, but in your cursory glance you hadn’t recognized the tall, broad guy with the UVA shirt pulled taut across his chest and wearing a baseball hat backward on his head. It wasn’t until your third searching pass that you’d caught the lips that were quirked up in amusement and those familiar brown eyes trained on you as he leaned ever-so-casually against the faux wood paneling on the wall waiting for you to notice him.

He’d filled out in the months since you’d last seen him. He was more toned than you remembered him being with definition in places where there hadn’t been before. His face had more distinct angles and less baby fat cushioned curves. Still a bit boyish, but he was well on his way to looking like a man.

Bradley raised his hand like he was going to wave, but then he’d mimicked casting a fishing line in your direction and reeling it in. And it was so endearingly stupid- so him- that you couldn’t help but take the bait and made your way towards him with the biggest grin on your face.

You’d ignored the jittery flutter in your stomach as you’d weaved between people and luggage. You’ve never been nervous around your best friend before. There was something that had on your mind a lot as the days to your visit inched closer, but you’d shoved that out of your mind, because you were finally standing in front of him in person for the first time in months.

“Hey, kid,” he’d greeted you, taking your bag, “Charlottesville must have known you were coming, because she’s going to be sunny for you all week.” As soon as you were within arm’s reach, he tugged you right into his chest for a hug. You could feel the unspoken I missed you in the way he squeezed you just that bit tighter before releasing you.

Then he was dropping an arm over your shoulders and steering you towards the exit and driving you into town in the beat-up car he’d bought after selling his prized Montero, the car that Mav had given him for his birthday.

You’re only there for a week and Bradley doesn’t waste a single moment of it.

After dropping your things off in his dorm room, he takes you straight to campus where he gives you the Official Bradley Bradshaw Certified UVA Tour. He buys you lunch from one of the food trucks in the Amphitheater “for sustenance” before taking you to see the highlights. You start with the Rotunda and then the academic village, making a special pitstop at the Whispering Wall for you to tell it a secret. And then he takes you on a more historical tour, like showing you the exact route he used to streak The Lawn and pointing out the place he’d puked after his 21st birthday.

It’s clear he’d put so much thought into your visit because it seems like there is never a down moment. By the end of the third day you’re more surprised that you don't wake up every morning with a printed itinerary on your pillow.

He sneaks you into the Slaughter Rec Center to rock climb, claiming he had a person on the inside with the right connections. But really from what you could tell, the pretty girl at the check-in counter clearly had a crush on him. He takes you to the batting cages he likes to go to before Dead Week, and spends the time there equal parts making fun of your power swing and trying to fix it.

You get your revenge the next day standing outside of the imposing columns and massive doors to the Fralin Art Museum. Skeptically eyeing the sculpture in the front of the building that kind of looked like a giant wisdom tooth, you mentioned, “I didn’t realize you’d become such a patron of the cultural arts.”

“Hey now, I like artsy shit,” he’d said, only mildly affronted.

You snorted at that. “Is there an exhibit on beer pong and blunt rolling you wanted to see?” Through the window you’d spotted some large landscape oil paintings in ornate gilded frames and carved marble busts of what you assumed were probably of some of the Founding Fathers.

“You just missed that one, it was last month,” Bradley lobbed back, opening the door for you.

“What a pity,” you’d said with a dramatic sigh, “Guess we’ll have to settle for some tasteful nudes instead.”

“If we’re lucky,” he’d muttered under his breath, as you passed under his arm.

And then you’d felt the corners of your mouth kick up.

Turning around you’d pressed your finger to his chest, whispering so the person behind the ticket desk didn’t hear you, “Twenty bucks says you don’t make it thirty minutes in there.”

He narrowed his eyes, taking in your sly grin, “You’re on, kid.”

It’s the easiest $20 you’ve ever made.

The two of you call it a truce only after he tips your kayak into the still chilly Rivanna River.

Later that night, he takes you to a party on “Mad Bowl” that one of his frat friends was hosting. The backyard was all strung up with red and green Christmas lights like they had been too lazy to take them down after the holidays and decided it added to the outdoor ambiance instead of packing them away.

He was still just as protective over you as he was back in high school. Spending the whole night keeping an eye on you and handing you drinks that he’d uncapped himself using the opener that he had on his keychain, the one that still had the little fighter jet charm you’d given him ages ago dangling from it.

The days pass all too quickly as he shows you all of his favorite spots.

You knew UVA wasn’t where he’d originally wanted to be- where he thought he’d be- but you were happy that he seemed happy here.

But in between the late-night microwave ramen and movie watching and crossing off all the things on Bradley’s Spring Break To-Do List, there’d been something you’d been wanting to talk to him about. But you were having so much fun with him, you’d missed your best friend over those long months apart, and you didn’t want to ruin the time you had left with him here.

It lingered at the back of your mind like a phantom hair that you can feel, but can’t ever seem to brush off no matter how many times you attempt to. You felt like you were waiting for the right time that you weren’t sure would ever come. And if you were being honest, you weren’t entirely sure you would even be brave enough to ask if the time came.

The two of you had woken up way before the sun this morning.

If anyone other than Bradley had asked you to wake up before 5 AM to go hike to watch the sunrise, you would have laughed at them. But because it was Bradley, you’d set the alarm without comment. Even though he did have to gently pry you out of his roommate’s bed- with the fresh sheets he told you he bought especially for your visit- and lace up your shoes for you.

The views at Humpback Rock had been worth the hour hike up to the outcrop of craggy rocks. The sunrise painted them a stunning shade of soft orange as the rays illuminated evergreen covered hills and valleys that extended in front of you to the skyline. You and Bradley watched it in silence, shoulders pressed against each other as you took it all in.

You’re cozied up on your bed for the week, flipping through a book you’d brought with you, but hadn’t touched at all until now when Bradley comes back from the showers. His hair is still damp and the ends are starting to curl a bit.

He drops a Styrofoam cup of coffee on the nightstand next to you.

You hadn’t been sure what rooming with him would be like, the two of you together 24/7 since his roommate had left to go home for the break. But it felt like you were two kids at sleepaway camp getting away with mischief rather than two broke college students only pretending to get away with mischief.

He sits down at the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his thighs, “So.”

“So?” you repeat, blowing on the hot coffee before taking a sip.

“Are you going to tell me what’s been up with you?”

You wince, and it’s not because the coffee tastes like tar.

“What do you mean?” you try to ask casually.

Bradley gives you a look that says you don’t fool me, kid. “You’ve been squirrely. I didn’t want to press it, but I can tell there’s something on your mind.” He takes a sip of his own milky battery acid. “Are classes going better since you switched majors?”

You nod, looking anywhere else other than at him.

“How are things with your Dad?”

You offer him a shrug.

He sighs your name in exasperation. You can tell he is trying to tamper his frustration at your lack of cooperation.

“Is it a guy?” Bradley tries again.

You swear you feel your heart stop, because you knew what you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know how he was going to take it.

You fiddle with a string on his roommate’s comforter. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” you admit, tentatively, “But I’m nervous.”

Bradley’s eyebrows pull together as he sets his coffee aside, “C’mon, it’s just me. You can talk to me about anything.”

“It’s more of a question.” One you’re still deflecting from asking.

“Ok, well you know you can ask me anything.” His tiny dorm room feels even smaller as the two of you try to read the other’s face.

Taking a deep breath, you ask the question that’s been rattling around in your brain for weeks.

“Bradley, I was wondering if you’d be my first?”

Less than ten words. That’s all it takes to tilt Bradley’s world off its axis.

He’s loved getting to show you around UVA this week. It wasn’t where he thought he’d end up, but he hadn’t lost sight of where he was going. He was going to be a Naval Aviator one way or another. He just also got to have a normal college experience too, one he’d been excited to share with you.

Bradley had originally been invited to go stay with one of his friends at his family’s beach house, but when you called and asked about coming to visit Charlottesville, it was an easy choice for him. He’d pick you every time.

It had been even better getting to cross off some of the things on the bucket list he’d made for his Senior Year with you in tow, like the hike he’d taken you on this morning.

He loves the views from up there and thought it would be something you’d like too, but he’d never done the hike early enough to catch the sunrise before. It was actually something he was planning on going the morning of graduation as a symbolic way to end his time at UVA, but getting to do it with you was special in its own way.

And while he’d caught you lost in thought more than a few times over the last few days as he showed you around, he never in a million years would have ever expected you to ask him that.

Bradley knows all the words you just used, but they don’t make sense to him in that order.

His brain is working in overdrive trying to figure out if there is any possible way he could have misinterpreted you.

“Your first…”

You take another deep breath and tip your chin up in resolve before looking him dead in the eye, there’s so much vulnerability reflected in them, “I haven’t had sex before, Bradley. And I’m really hoping that my first time can be with you.”

Bradley wants to tell you to put your Styrofoam cup down because he’s worried the tight grip you have on it might crush it, but he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

He didn’t realize when his leg started bouncing until he sees you glance down at it.

Shooting to his feet and off his bed, he goes to lean against his recently decluttered desk. There’s too much restless energy coursing through him to just sit like he isn’t completely reeling.

“Shouldn’t you want to do this with someone special? Like with rose petals and all that shit?” He scrubs a hand over his face. Rose petals and all that shit? God, he sounds like such a fucking dumbass, but he’s struggling to keep up.

And if he’s being entirely honest, he’s pretty surprised to learn you’re still a virgin. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but he knows you’ve had at least one serious boyfriend since you’ve gone to college. He figured that you got asked out all the time. He saw the way that some of the guys in his buddy’s frat were looking at the pretty girl with the dimples and big smile.

The girl who just asked him to be her first.

He hates the way your shoulders have slumped forward, like you’re trying not to cave in on yourself, “So, you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that.” His answer takes him by surprise.

The only other sound in the room other than his pounding heart is the whir of the air circulating in his dorm.

“Would it help to make a pro con list?” you offer, less than helpfully with a little shrug.

“Jesus Christ,” Bradley mutters under his breath, looking up at the speckled ceiling trying to decode the flecks like tea leaves. “She’s cracking jokes like she didn’t ask me to make her come.”

“Technically, I didn’t say anything about that. I just asked you to be my first.”

“I’m not taking your virginity and not giving you an orgasm,” he states, and your eyes get wide. He runs his hands through his hair. “Sex makes things complicated, kid. We’ve got a good friendship.”

You sit up straighter on his roommate’s bed and bring your knees to your chest. It exposes the backs of your thighs and he has to shake the mental images of skin on skin out of his head.

There’s a look on your face that tells him you feel ridiculous even asking him, “Do you think you’re going to fall in love with me or something?”

“No,” Bradley says, honestly.

He knows you’re just trying to make a point.

The two of you have been friends for over a decade. He knows he cares about you- he always has- but he couldn’t imagine what anything other than just friendship would look like with you.

You nod in agreement, like you had been anticipating the answer before you’d even asked him the question.

“And do you think I’m going to fall in love with you?” you ask, your head tilting to the side.

He doesn’t even blink, “You can do better than me.”

And he means it.

Even if there was something more between the two of you, you’ve always been too good for him. And knowing him, he’d find a way to fuck it up. You’re the last person in the world he’d ever want to hurt. He’d let you down before, he doesn’t want to do it ever again.

You shoot him a disappointed look, like you don’t like hearing him say that about himself. And he’s oddly touched that you’re defending him against himself.

“You’d literally be doing me a favor.”

Bradley is still surprised that he hasn’t ended this conversation yet. The two of you were supposed to go to the movies, but that definitely wasn’t happening now.

“I’m not saying no,” he says, “But I need you to help me understand. Why me? Why now?”

“Bradley, I want it to be with you because there’s no one else I’ll ever feel as comfortable with as I do with you,” you explain.

He watches as you unfold yourself and climb off the bed, coming to stand in front of him. You gingerly reach out and put your hand on his forearm, like you don’t want to startle him. Not that he’d be able to move anyways since it feels like the soles of his feet are cemented to the floor.

“I keep waiting for it to not feel like such a big thing, but every time it seems like it’s going to happen, I freeze. And I know you’d take care of me, and I’m not talking about orgasms.” You stumble over the word a bit, not fully meeting his eyes as you say it. “It’s scary enough as a girl and I’m worried I’m going to be too in my head with anyone else. But I also don’t want to look back and have any regrets, and I know I wouldn’t have any with you.”

The mention of regrets makes his stomach twinge. His heart feels like it’s hammering in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say.

You are looking at him with such open sincerity. He has never been good with talking about his feelings, he’s always been the type to bottle things up, while you have always worn your heart on your sleeve. It was just another way that you were braver than him.

“I know it’s a lot,” you say, letting go of him to take a step back, like you want to give him breathing room, “So if it’s too big of an ask. Or if it’s not something you’re comfortable with-”

Bradley shakes his head cutting you off, “It’s not that at all, kid. I just haven’t done this before.” Your eyebrow scrunches together in confusion. “I mean, I have,” he corrects, “But it’s not the same. All the girls I’ve been with had already had experience. And if we were going to do this, I would want to make sure it’s as nice for you as it can be.”

“So you’d be my first and I’d be yours? Well, kind of.” You give him a little smile, it’s a shy but hopeful thing. There’s only a hint of your dimples, but it’s enough. And he feels that practical part of him that had been holding back soften at the sight of it.

He doesn’t think he’s ever said no to you, excluding the times you tried to get him to give you his beer at the house parties he took you to in high school, and that was more out of self-preservation from a healthy fear of your mom than anything else.

When you wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift? He took you to the abandoned parking lot, it didn’t matter that you didn’t have your learner’s permit yet. When you wanted to learn how to throw a punch? He was making sure you knew not to tuck your thumb under your fingers, so that you didn’t break your own thumb instead of someone’s nose.

He’s always had your back and you’ve had his. That’s how it was between the two of you.

You’ve already said it, but he needs to hear it again, “You really want to do it?”

“I really want it to be you, Bradley. I really want to do this with you. I trust you the most.”

He’s always been willing to help you with anything you’ve ever asked of him, why should this be any different? What’s a couple orgasms between friends?

“Ok,” Bradley nods. If it’s to reassure you or himself, he couldn’t say. “I’ll do it. We can do it.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, like you were fully prepared for him to let you down gently, “Really?”

You didn’t ask for his why he was agreeing, but he was going to give it to you anyway.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I lost mine to Samantha Prescod after the game against Centennial that got us a spot at State that year,” he waits until he sees the recognition cross your face before continuing, “But I had also just learned about my mom’s diagnosis and I was trying to find anything I could do to not think about it.” He rubs at a spot underneath his collarbone, it never got any easier talking about his mom. “I think she assumed that I’d done it before, because we didn’t really talk about it. She was there and into it, so it just sort of happened. Actually, I’m pretty sure she only slept with me because she wanted to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, because they got back together like three days later.”

It’s probably for the best that Samantha Prescod lives on the other side of the country now because you look livid. Your eyes spark with anger and disbelief on his behalf.

“It was years ago, it’s fine, kid” he shrugs, trying to brush off your concern. “But if I had a do-over, I don’t know if I’d make the same choice again. And that’s not something I’d ever want for you.” You deserve the rose petals, but he’ll do his best for you. “So we can do it, but I have one condition.”

The relief on your face and the way the tension in your shoulder releases only solidifies his decision.

“Tell me,” you say, taking a half-step towards him, “I want you to be comfortable too.”

Bradley pushes off his desk and meets you the rest of the way, “If you even think you’re feeling uncomfortable- about any of it- I need you to tell me. And we’ll stop and figure out where to go from there. If it’s a change of position, if it’s a full stop and order pizza instead, we’ll do that.” He pauses and reaches out to tip your chin up. “I’ll do whatever you need, got it?”

You throw your arms around him, and his wrap around you just as easily. Your hair smells like the travel sized shampoo he’d picked up for you, figuring you wouldn’t want to use his 2-in-1. You murmur your thank you into his shirt followed by a fuck Samantha Prescod that makes him squeeze you just a bit tighter to him in affection.

When you step back and look at him, your lips twitch upwards, “What’s with the look, Bradshaw? Don’t tell me you’re going to lie back and think of England?”

That makes him chuckle, your joke lightening the mood in only the way that you can do. He rolls his eyes in equal parts exasperation and fondness.

“God, I haven’t been this nervous since I lost my own virginity. I was so stressed I was going to blow my load in two pumps and lose my street cred.”

You snort and send him a smirk, “Well, you must have done just fine. I overheard some glowing reviews in the girl’s bathroom on more than one occasion.”

“I maybe lasted ten trusts, but I had the good sense to eat her out after,” he admits, and then tacks on for good measure, “I’ve gotten better since then.”

“What a stud,” you tease.

This is easier, this feels like the two of you. This should be fun, it shouldn’t feel serious. He can make it good for you.

You look up at him shyly from under your lashes, “So how do we do this?”

He feels like he only just wrapped his head around the idea of it, but now he was facing the very real possibility of seeing you very naked very soon.

“You want to do it now?” Bradley blinks.

“I mean, if you’re up for it.” You scrunch your nose when you realize you’ve made a terrible double entendre. “No pun intended, I promise.”

He wipes his hands on his pants.

“You sure?” he asks again.

“I’m sure, Bradley. As long as you are too.”

He nods, “Then I guess we just…”

He’s not sure where he was going to go with that. But he’s spared from being roasted by you for making some sure to be lame birthday suit joke because you’re untying the bow on the soft lounge shorts you’d thrown on after your shower from the hike, and all the words get trapped in his throat.

You don’t look at Bradley as you slide your shorts down your legs. And you definitely don’t look at him when you pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in only a soft green mesh bra and your cotton underwear. They’re mismatched, but sex with Bradley wasn’t originally on the Spring Break To-Do List agenda for today.

In fact, you hadn’t even been sure you were going to go through with asking him until he brought up the point that he knew you had something on your mind because you apparently had no poker face.

While it felt like you had a swarm of butterflies whirling in your stomach, you also knew wholeheartedly that this was the right choice for you. Everything he had said had solidified that for you.

You weren’t sure how you were ever going to thank him for this, but you had a lifetime of friendship with Bradley to figure it out.

His room cast in the soft afternoon light, the blinds only partly closed. There are little streaks of gold that line the plaid comforter on his bed. He’d been right, Charlottesville had stayed sunny just for you.

As you climb into it and situate yourself against his pillows, you can help but notice just how much his bed smells like him. It’s not the spicy scent you associated with the High School version of him. The woodsy and warm scent embedded in the threads of his sheets suits this grown up version of him.

You feel equal parts overdressed and underdressed in your bra and underwear. You know the latter are going to come off eventually, so you make a split-second decision to just take them off yourself under his covers. The idea of Bradley helping you to pull them off later seems like it would be too intimate based on the way the thought of it makes your cheeks heat up.

It’s practical, you’re being practical, you think to yourself.

You chance a peek at him and are surprised to see that he hasn’t budged an inch. It’s almost like he is waiting for you to get completely settled before he dares to move a muscle. His eyes are trained on the pile of your clothes on the floor, he looks lost in thought.

“Bradley?”

The sound of your voice seems to kickstart him into action.

He shucks off his shirt in that kind of reckless way that seems to be ingrained in boys and then unbuttons his pants. You’re torn between feeling like you should give him privacy and wanting to watch. What you were expecting is the way he takes the time to pick his clothes up before folding them over the back of the chair at his desk.

Your mouth goes dry as you take in the sight of his body, the diffused light perfectly outlines the shape of him. His broad shoulders are rounded with the muscles he’s gained from whatever exercises the NROTC has been putting him through. Your eyes dip down to his defined chest and over the ridges of his abs. You’ve seen him in swim trunks plenty of times, but seeing the way the muscles of his thick thighs fill out the black boxer briefs he was wearing was entirely new to you.

Bradley approaches you and then pauses as he bends down to collect your pile of clothes on the floor, his hand hesitating only for a second when he reaches for your underwear. He drapes all of your things on top of his on the chair and makes his way back to you.

The gesture makes you melt a little like a soft serve ice cream cone on a summer afternoon.

You lift the corner of the cover for Bradley and he climbs in next to you. You move closer to the wall, trying to make more room for the bulk of him in his small bed, and he shifts in even closer into you until your bodies pressed tight against one another. The curves and angles of the two of you slotting together like pieces of a puzzle.

It feels like the two of you are teetering there on the edge of something. You both know exactly where it’s going, but are unsure of how to make it from Point A to Point B. Both waiting on the other person to make the first move.

He rests his warm hand on your stomach, the muscles there jumping on their own under his touch in anticipation. Your faces are close since you’re sharing his pillow. His brown eyes are searching yours, probably looking for any sign of hesitation that you don’t feel.

“Tell me how you’re feeling.” It’s not a question, but a request.

“Overwhelmed,” you admit, “But in a good way.” He runs his palm lightly up your stomach and back down, soothingly.

“Good, that’s good,” Bradley says, clearing his throat, “You’re supposed to feel a little ‘overwhelmed, but in a good way.’” You feel your lips pull up at his gentle teasing.

He smiles softly at you. His face has always been so familiar to you. The pink from his scars have finally faded, but you wonder when his eyes start crinkling around the corners.

You let go of the comforter to run a finger down the top of his nose, “I don’t know how this has stayed so straight.” He’d been in more than a couple fights in his teen years, including one that had sent him through a sliding glass door.

“Probably the combination of a little luck and the fact that none of those guys could throw a punch,” Bradley smirks. He shifts on his side, propping himself up on an elbow looking down at you, still running his hand along your stomach. “What have you done so far?”

His fingertips circle your bellybutton and your stomach swoops like it’s on the swing carousel ride at the fair.

“Some over the clothes stuff…” you stammer. You’re having trouble focusing because all your attention is on his big hand and how it feels against your oversensitive skin. “And I have a vibrator, but ah…”

You’re so keenly aware of his hand. With every lazy circle he makes, he has you wondering if this is going to be the one where he finally moves his hand lower. That part of you in flutters in expectation because you know it’s coming.

You let out a shaky huff when his fingers trails back up your stomach.

“What is it?” Bradley’s hand stops moving. “What are you thinking?”

“Honestly?” you say, trying not to squirm, “I’m getting really horny and you keep teasing me.”

He presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh at your overshare, and there’s amusement in his eyes.

“You know, some people call it foreplay,” he drawls. You’d roll your eyes but his fingertips are by your bellybutton again and you want him to keep going. “You ready for more?” You nod a few times because if he doesn’t touch you soon you might just crawl out of your skin. “Ok, gonna stop ‘teasing’ you now.”

This time his hand doesn’t stop at your bellybutton, it keeps moving down, down.

You stutter over a breath when Bradley’s fingers touch your clit. You feel yourself melt a little further into his mattress. He’s making easy circles, letting you get used to someone’s fingers other than your own on the most sensitive part of you. Your hands are clutching tightly to his comforter, unsure of what else to do with them.

“Spread your legs a little wider for me,” he murmurs. You feel your face heat up. He’d just given you a direction, but it sounds almost indecent coming out of his mouth.

You shift, moving your legs apart further for him, until he secures your left between his own, opening you up even more. You know you’re wet and now he does too. Bradley’s fingers slide easily over you as he increases the pressure on your clit. You can feel the intensity of his gaze on you watching for your reaction as he figures out what you like the most.

It doesn’t take him long to learn your body. You don’t know whether to be impressed with him or embarrassed with yourself at how quickly he’s worked you up.

Your breathing feels so loud in your ears in the quiet room, every breath and sigh is amplified. There’s a certain thrill in not knowing how he’s going to touch you next, your own fingers pale in comparison now.

His warm breath coasts down the side of your neck causing you to shiver at the sensation. It makes goosebumps break out along your arms and your nipples pull taut.

He notices. Of course he notices.

“Are you cold?” His voice is low in your ear.

“No, I-” Oh god, you’re right there. “B-bradley, I’m-” You’ve made yourself orgasm plenty of times, but you’ve never shared that part of yourself with anyone else before. No one knows what you sound like or what you look like when you come. But now, Bradley was going to have the piece of you too. A whine escapes you without your permission.

“It’s ok, kid, I’ve got you.”

You’re seeking and searching, but it’s Bradley’s fingers that have the answer.

And you come with your stomach twitching and hips jerking as he murmurs praise in your ear.

His fingers slow down, featherlight on your clit, but your heart is still racing when he rasps, “There’s one, you up for another?”

Bradley loves that moment during sex when he hears that first gasp or moan. He loves learning what sounds of satisfaction he can pull from his partner. He loves knowing he earned it. But he never in his life could have ever anticipated hearing those sounds from you.

In his bed. Because of him.

He didn’t expect the lick of heat that curled up his spine at the shape of your legs and the curve of your ass as you were stepping out of your shorts. He’d never seen anything so strangely endearing as it was watching you shimmy your underwear off under the shield of his covers.

Every hitch in your breath made his blood run hotter in his veins. He was trying to control his cock, but he’d started getting hard the second you’d pulled your shirt off. Your bra was some kind of sheer thing that left nothing to the imagination, and while he wasn’t trying to check you out- because that’s not how it was between the two of you- he couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered down.

You’re slippery, wet, and warm. And he knows he can make you come again.

“Do you want me to use my fingers now?”

You crack an eye open at him, it’s the first time you’ve opened your eyes since he first touched you. Your eyes are bright in that way that only comes with an orgasm. “I thought you already were.”

“Such a smartass,” he grins.

Bradley changes the unhurried circles he’d been making on your clit to the upstroke that made your hips jerk up into his hand the first time he’d tried it. The little noises you’re making have him fighting the urge to grind himself against you for some relief of his own. He’s still got your knee tucked between his own; where there had been a hint of polite space between your bodies, the way you’re writhing now has him pressed up against your hip.

You gasp, breathily, “Oh, you’re hard.” The disbelief is evident in your voice, but it’s the look in your eyes that he doesn’t know what to make of, something like surprise.

He’s been trying to be a gentleman, this is about you and not him. There might not be anything romantic happening between the two of you, but this was hot and he was more than a little turned on. And he knows you are too because he can feel how wet you are under his fingers.

“’Course I am,” Bradley says, nudging his nose against your temple, “I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed half naked.” He didn’t want you to feel like you were in this on your own, so he lightly rocks against you. He wants you to feel him, he wants you to know he is into this too. “Are you ready more?”

“I’m ready, I want more,” you confirm, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

Your breath hitches as he teases you with just the tip of his finger.

He’s been told before he has big hands and thick fingers, he’s always taken it as a compliment in the past, but now he’s scanning your face for any trace of discomfort as he sinks one into you.

Your eyebrows twitch then smooth out and your mouth drops open as he starts pumping his finger into you in a smooth rhythm.

“That feels nice,” you sigh, airily.

He knows you like it when your hips tip up just a fraction. His comforter is bunched around your waist and your nipples are peaked against the see-through fabric of your bra. He gets his thumb on your clit and you whimper as you tentatively roll your hips against his fingers.

Bradley hums his approval, “Atta girl. There you go, find what feels good for you.” His voice sounds low even to his own ears, a throaty rumble. He feels you clench around his fingers and it sets his pulse racing. It’s a piece of information he tucks away for himself.

He’s gentle on your clit, but now that he knows you’re into it he’s setting a more purposeful pace with his fingers.

You’ve got your bottom lip pinned between your teeth, like you’re trying to swallow down your sounds. He didn’t realize how much he liked hearing these new sounds from you until you started trying to muffle them. On the next slide of his finger into you, he knows exactly what he’s looking for.

You suck in a sharp breath of surprise when he finds it.

“Is that the right spot, kid?” He sounds so smug. You curse and your hand clutches at his shoulder. “You want to try a second finger?” he murmurs into your ear.

“Yes,” you rock into his hand, “Yes, please.”

“Whatever you want, Miss Manners.” His chest feels like he’s taken a shot of Fireball. “You’re so polite when you’re trying to get your way.”

“I’m always polite,” you challenged weakly, pressing your head further into his pillow.

“Mhm,” he indulges, fondly, “You’re the sweetest girl I know.”

And then he fills you with two fingers.

“Jesus, Bradley,” you gasp, offering more of yourself to him.

Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder as he lets your whimpers and whines guide his hands.

The two of you have your eyes fixed on the way the tendons of the visible part of his forearm are flexing before it disappears under the covers as he works you.

Bradley curls his fingers into that spongy part of you and your hand flies to his wrist, gripping him tight. It makes him pause, worried that he might have pushed you too far too fast.

“No, no. D-don’t stop,” you plead, desperately, “I’m so close. Keep going, please.” You squeeze his wrist encouragingly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he soothes. He focuses his efforts on that spot again now that he knows you weren’t wanting him to slow down, but rather trying to hold him in place. His fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit working in tandem to get you there again.

“I just- yes. Like that. Oh fuck. Keep doing that. Oh my god. Please, Bradley.”

He’s heard you say his name a lot of different ways, but never like this.

Your back arches and you twist yourself towards him, burying your face against him and keening into the hollow of his throat as you come around his fingers.

You jerk and writhe into his hand, your knee slips free of his and your thighs clamp together around him. Bradley rolls off the arm he’d been leaning on and brings it to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer and holding you to him as he steadily works you through it until you’re loose-limbed in his arms.

He waits until your rapid pants have evened out before he slips his fingers from you. The displeased sound that you make makes the corners of his mouth twitch. He should have known you’d be bossy. He rubs gentle circles into the divots at the base of your neck as you come down.

Bradley can feel your lips graze the side of his neck when you finally speak, “So, um, let me know if you need a letter of recommendation or anything. I’d be happy to pass one along to your next partner.” You languidly prop yourself up on his chest and he notes with pride that you look a little flushed. “But, seriously, I get it now.”

He huffs a laugh as he toys with the end of your hair, “I’m glad it lived up to the hype. Well, at least that part of it.”

You press your lips together like you’re deciding something, tracing idle shapes on his stomach, and he can’t decide if he thinks you’re doing it without realizing it or if you’re the one doing the teasing this time. Your eyes flick down to his visibly hard cock and he feels his face heat up, “Can I?”

“Do you want to?” Bradley wants this experience to be everything you need and want it to be, but something about the tables turning here and the idea of you being the one to touch him like that makes his heart pound.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you softly tell him, resting your chin on your shoulder. The tender way you’re looking at him makes his teeth ache.

“Ok, but only for a little bit,” he agrees. Bradley knows he’s walking a tightrope with this, he’s aching and more than ready to be touched, but he doesn’t want to come all over your hand.

He plants his feet into his mattress and lifts his hips enough to pull off his boxer briefs, sighing in relief as his cock bobs free.

“That can’t be average,” you mutter under your breath.

He doesn’t know if you meant to have said it out loud but he smirks all the same, “I’ve never been average a day in my life, kid, Grade A student here.”

A groan slips out of him as your tentative fingers grasp his cock. There’s a lack of finesse in the way you touch him, your hand isn’t nearly as well-practiced as his own. He wraps his hand over yours, guiding your strokes as he shows you just what he likes.

“You can grip it a little firmer,” he coaches. You nod studiously, like you’re going to be tested on it later. Together the two of you work him from root to tip.

Bradley had never given much thought to his size until now. He knew he was big, but seeing that your thumb couldn’t reach the tips of your fingers when your hand was curved around him was an ego boost he didn’t know he needed.

You get more confident with every glide up and down the length of him. Your tricky thumb sweeps over the tip, collecting what precum had gathered there, and it makes your hand slide easier over him. When he accidentally thrusts into your hand, you grin and there are those dimples again.

“Ok, ok,” he blows out a shaky breath, stilling your hand with his. “We gotta stop or I’m going to come. And I’m not about to be a one pump chump.”

“It sounded like you’re more of a ten pump chump, if I remember correctly,” you tease, looking all too pleased with yourself. “Don’t worry, Bradshaw, your street cred is safe with me.”

He shakes his head in amused disbelief, “You’re such a goddamn menace. I knew I shouldn’t have told you that part.” He surprises the both of you when he wraps an arm around you and rolls to pin you under him.

And it’s like all the air is sucked out of the room because your thighs are cradling his hips and his cock is resting heavy on your stomach.

Neither one of you dare to move. He’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right now, he feels out of his depth as he watches you watching him.

His tongue feels thick in his mouth, “Are you on-”

You nod before he even finishes the question.

“Do you have-”

He nods before you finish yours.

“What did you promise me?” he prompts, squeezing the dip of your waist.

You hold up your pinky to him, “I’ll tell you.” He wraps his own crooked one around yours and gives it a shake.

Bradley doesn’t know what comes over him, but he drops a kiss to your shoulder as he reaches over you into the drawer of his nightstand to fish out what he needs. He’s thankful when you don’t comment on it because he wouldn’t even know how to explain it.

He leans back on his knees and rolls the condom on with practiced ease, then flicks open the cap to the bottle of lube he’s also grabbed and drizzles it over his cock.

“Am I not…” you trail off. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound this shy with him before.

“You’re plenty wet,” he assures you, pumping himself- once, twice- just enough to coat himself, “But this’ll be good too. I think you’ll like it.”

Bradley settles back over you, one arm braced by your head and the other on your hip, as your hands come up to rest lightly on either side of his ribcage. He rocks against you to demonstrate; the head of his cock nudges your clit with each silky pass. You exhale heavily at the sensation as he eases you into the motion of it, as he shows you what it’s like with another person.

You’re holding him close, and in just a moment the two of you will be the closest two people can be.

He makes only enough room to reach down between your bodies, only looks away from your face long enough to line himself up with you. There is such trust in your eyes as you gaze up at him, it’s not something Bradley takes for granted.

You nod, your fingers stroking his sides.

God, does he want this to be good for you.

He takes a breath.

And then he’s shifting forward and pressing in.

Bradley thrusts into you with all the careful gentleness you’d expect from him.

His thumb skimming along your forehead as he pushes in, in, in.

When he found that spot inside of you with his fingers, you thought you were going to fly away from the intensity of it, but then he’d pulled you into the safety of his arms and you felt like you could fall apart because he’d be keeping the pieces of you together.

He’s been so good to you. He is so good to you. He’s the best person you know.

The more of him he gives you, the less you feel like you can catch your breath.

You feel hot, hot all over. And much fuller than you’ve ever been.

Some sound must make its way out of you because Bradley offers you a low soothing noise before you feel his lightly chapped lips against your temple.

There’s something about this that reminds you of the time he tried to teach you how to skateboard. Always waited until you told him you were ready, until you found your balance. He’d held your hand as you cautiously rolled along the sidewalk, you were less worried about falling with him by your side. Only this time, his hand is on your waist and the only movements are his hips against yours as he rocks into you.

Little by little. Inch by inch.

You clutch at his biceps at the slight stinging sensation and you feel him hesitate.

“It’s just a lot,” you whisper. His fingers flex on your waist.

“You’re doing so good, just a bit more,” Bradley murmurs, encouragingly.

There’s pressure, there’s a give, and then there’s relief when his hips finally, finally meet yours.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath.

Your eyes had flickered shut somewhere along the way. You open them to see that Bradley’s face and chest are flushed pink, the muscle of his jaw flexing. The furrow between his eyebrows is so deep that you release your grip on him to smooth out the lines with an unsteady fingertip.

He reads the question in your eyes.

“You’re just really tight,” he grits out, voice strained.

You assumed that was a good thing, but he’s holding himself so tense above you that now you’re not sure. “Do I-,” you fumble over the words, “Does this feel good for you?”

He huffs an incredulous laugh, and brushes back some hair from off your face, “You feel really fucking good, sweet-”

Your whimper cuts him off when he pulls out a fraction and then pushes back in.

His brown eyes take you in as he does it again, more this time. Pulling out just a bit- just enough- and then filling you again. The discomfort fading more with each thrust as he guides his hips to yours until yours are tilting up to meet his seeking more.

It’s a conversation between your bodies, the give and the take of it all as Bradley introduces you to this new unspoken language. You feel yourself flutter around his cock, stretched wider than you’ve ever been.

You feel that heat spreading underneath your skin again as he surely and steadily pumps into you. It feels like your nerves are on fire. You didn’t expect to even come once and you’re well on your way to a third.

He reaches down and hooks your leg over his hip. His hand slides up along the outside of your thigh and under your ass, tilting your hips up towards his even more. He’s so much deeper like this. Your hands slide into his hair, tugging at his curls.

“Bradley, I-I think… I feel-”

“You’re gonna come,” he rasps, nodding at you. Encouraging, coaxing.

He grinds his pelvis against your clit with every deliciously slow roll into you.

Your mouth drops open at the feel of it, it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined. You don’t think your faces have ever been closer than they are now. Bradley is breathing your air, and you’re breathing his. Bradley’s pupils are blown wide, his heavy-lidded eyes are locked on yours. You didn’t know there could be so many shades of brown. His curls are a mess and it’s all because of you. He licks his lips and your breath catches in your throat when his eyes dart down to your parted mouth.

His next thrust into you hits that spot inside of you just so right that it has you gasping.

It’s so good, it’s too good, it’s overwhelming.

You wrap your arms around his neck clinging to him, your face buried against him. Bradley drops his head to your shoulder, you feel his lips brush against your clavicle. Your head moves away on instinct, making more room for him if he wants to do it again.

You get lost in the feeling of his cock hitting you in all the places you’ve heard about and read about, but have never felt for yourself until now. He’s still got your ass gripped in his hand, whereas your hands can’t stay in one spot. They’re tangled in his hair, running over his shoulders and down his abs, gliding over his back aided by the sheen of sweat he’s worked up.

You’re not trying to hold yourself back, but it feels like you’re standing on the tallest diving board at the pool, your toes curled around the edge, but still too nervous about the drop to jump.

“C’mon, kid. You’re right there,” he breathes hard, “I need you to come for me. Just one more.”

He gets his fingers back on your clit and it’s the end of you. Your back is arching so much you think you might snap. Your toes curl so tights they may never unfurl. The force your orgasm overtakes you, demanding everything you have up to offer and then some.

You hear Bradley’s moan as you pulse around his cock, trembling under him as the waves of pleasure wash over you. His hips stutter against yours, finally losing that steady rhythm he’d set, you pull him tighter to you and it’s not long until he comes too.

It’s all white noise. All you can feel is your heartbeat pounding, until little pieces of the world come back into focus.

The hum of the fan.

The beam of warm afternoon light through the blinds.

The smell of the now cold coffee on his nightstand.

In the after, you’re all too aware of every place your body is touching Bradley’s.

He’d somehow managed to roll on his back and had taken you with him. He was literally just inside of you, but yet it feels like your leg draped over his thigh is somehow more intimate. A prickly self-conscious feeling settles over you. Unsure of what the rules were for friends who just had sex, you attempt to peel yourself off of him, but the heavy arm over your waist keeps you in place.

“Come back here, kid,” Bradley mumbles, his eyes still closed, “I need to cuddle after I come, so I’m gonna need you to indulge me here for a moment.” He strokes a soothing hand down your back. And while he says it’s for him, you know he’s still trying to take care of you.

He hums when you lay back down. You set a hand on his chest. He reaches for it with his free one and threads your fingers together. It makes you melt further into him.

You feel a little different. But mostly, you feel like a weight you didn’t know you’d been carrying had been lifted off of you.

Your first time was everything you hoped it would be. You were safe and cared for, and you already knew, you’d never have any regrets about it. And it was all because of him.

“Thank you, Bradley,” you say, softly.

“Anything for you, kid.”

Your early morning catches up with you as you lay there, warm and secure. Your eyelids get heavier with each pass of Bradley’s hand along your spine. And you drift off to the sound of his heartbeat under your ear.

You’re still you. And Bradley is still Bradley.

It was just… something between friends.

A few hours later the two of you are still in his bed.

Only now you’re clothed and swapping the cartons of Chinese food that he’d ordered while you’d napped against his chest, and fighting over the fortune cookies watching some reruns of old sitcoms. You couldn’t hear their laugh tracks over your own.

The last couple of days you had at UVA fly by just as quickly.

You don’t know how, but the two of you managed to cross of all the things on his Spring Break To-Do List. And before you knew it you were back at the airport.

Bradley had insisted on walking you in, wanting to see you off.

Neither one of you has ever been good with goodbyes. So you don’t give him one, instead you reach for your bag and tell him, “Ok, see you in June.”

Bradley doesn’t let go, clearly confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”

You grin because it feels like a checkmate.

“You didn’t think you’d be getting that diploma all by yourself, did you?”

He looks thunderstruck.

You and your mom already had the plane tickets and hotel room booked. Your stepdad wouldn’t be able to come, but he was planning on sending your mom with one of the cakes from his family’s bakery. You’d been tasked with finding out what flavor, carrot cake or peanut butter- Bradley’s two favorites- but you could iron out the details with him later.

You’d had a busy week, plus it was more fun this way.

Bradley tugs you into his arms, yours wrap around him just as easily as they always have.

“June?” he asks into the crown of your head.

“June,” you promise.

And when he lets you go- for real this time- it’s with a smile that takes up his whole face.

He doesn’t say goodbye either, “Be good, kid. See you in June.”

𝐍𝐎𝐖

You avoid Rooster for the rest of the night.

And Jake too, for that matter. Bless Javy for finding ways to distract him because you could tell than man was chomping at the bit for more details. But you’d already given him more than enough.

You could have lied, you probably should have lied. It might have been easier than feeling like you’d hung up part of yourself on the drying line for everyone to see. But in that moment, the thought of lying and saying anyone else’s name other than Rooster’s had made your stomach turn.

Because it was the truth, he was your first, but he was also your best.

When you come out of the bathroom, there’s no missing Rooster. He’s leaning against the wall by the entrance. It takes him a moment to notice you since he looks lost in thought, but when he does you feel pinned to the wall by the intense look in his eyes.

He stands to his full height as you approach, you know he wants to talk about it.

You shake your head at him, “We don’t need to do this.”

“No, kid, we really do.” He takes you by the arm and leads you to a quieter spot away from everyone else.

“It was just a game,” you start before he can, “And now I know more about everyone’s sex life than I ever wanted to.” He crosses his arms over his chest at your attempt at deflection. “Look, I’m really sorry if that was something you wanted to keep a secret or just between us. I should have asked you first if that was ok to share.”

“I don’t care about that.” Rooster waves you off and takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours. “All this time and I’m the best you’ve ever had?”

“Are we really doing this? Here and now?”

You peer around him to look and see if anyone is watching the two of you, it feels like a showdown. But all the Daggers are occupied, probably on purpose. You’ve never seen Mickey with such a serious look of concentration on his face.

“Here and now,” he confirms.

You feel flustered, “Rooster, it’s been 12 years and we haven’t talked about it once-”

“Bradley,” he cuts you off. He takes another step towards you, so you’re toe to toe with him. “I’ve always been Bradley to you.”

The tension that had crept up in your shoulders releases a bit.

“Bradley,” you say, softly. “Listen, I’ve had a lot of good sex since then. Great sex even.” He presses his lips together and nods. “And with other men, if I felt like they weren’t putting in their best effort I’d kick them out because the bar was set very high early on.”

You see him fight back a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, with pride.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, you know he hears it because his eyes take on a richer shade of brown. You both feel the shift, tension churning between the two of you.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, “But I was telling the truth when I said you were my best. Probably because of the way you made sure I knew that you cared. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just different with you.”

You feel his finger graze the back of your hand.

The sounds of the Hard Deck fade into the background as you stare at each other. Entire conversations are being had as you look into his eyes and he looks into yours. Words and sentences spoken with glances.

Just friends don’t look at each other like this.

“It’s never been like this,” you whisper, “We’ve never been like this before.” You gesture at how close he is to you.

How he’s almost got you backed up against a wall.

How he’s looking at you like you’re his.

“I know.”

He says your name and your heart somersaults in your chest.

“I want to see your tattoo. I keep finding myself looking for it when we’re all at the beach. And then I get annoyed, knowing that people have seen it and I haven’t.”

“My tattoo? Bradley, what-”

“I want to see your tattoo,” he repeats like it’s a fact. “And I want to punch Seresin in his smug face every time he flirts with you.”

You roll your eyes, “Jake doesn’t flirt with me, not really. He just likes riling you up.”

“What if I said I wanted to try this as more than friends.” Bradley settles a large hand on your hip. “What if I said that since you’ve moved here I’ve had a hard time keeping my head on straight.”

“Bradley.” His name falls out of your mouth so easily now that it can.

“I want to take you home with me. I want to kiss you. I want to make you come. I need to know if you sound the same in my bed. And then I want to take you out for breakfast and buy whatever fancy coffee you want and as many pancakes as you can eat.”

You’ve been told that you wear your heart on your sleeve, but he has always worn his on his face. There’s no mistaking the open want on his face.

“Bradley, it’ll be different this time.” For so many reasons.

Because it’s not a favor being asked. It’s not some new experience being tried with the person you trust the most, with everything. You’d be on equal footing. It wouldn’t be a friend helping a friend, the two of you would be crossing that line between friends and more because you want each other in that way.

“I want it to be different, sweet girl,” he says, cupping your face in his familiar hand, “I’m ready for it to be different, if you are.”

He looks from your eyes down to your parted lips.

“We didn’t do that last time,” you whisper. Feeling brave, you reach out and run your fingers along the buttons of his shirt.

“No, we didn’t,” he agrees. His eyes are trained on his thumb as he skims it under your lip. “And that’s a damn shame.”

Bradley’s face is all you can see. Warm eyes, a still-straight nose, and a soft smile that is for you and you alone.

He dips down and your eyes flutter closed, your head tipping up on its own in anticipation.

His lips brush your cheek. It’s not enough.

You tug on his collar, but he chuckles and kisses your cheek again, lingering longer this time.

“I’m not kissing you for the first time around the corner from a bathroom,” he rasps.

You open your eyes and see the amusement in his. He always did like teasing you.

“Oh, where do you plan on doing it then?”

“Outside your front door, like a gentleman,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You can’t help but grin because Bradley Bradshaw can’t wait the extra 10 minutes it would take to drive to his place instead of yours. He wants that kiss just as badly as you do. You watch as a matching smile to yours blooms across his face.

It feels normal to slide your fingers between his much larger ones. It feels right as you lead the way out of the Hard Deck with him only a step behind you.

As it turns out, he only makes it as far as the Bronco before he’s spinning you back towards him and pressing you against it. His hands are on your hips and yours are wrapped around his neck as he kisses you for the very first time.

Bradley kisses you like a man who knows what he wants. And what he wants is you.

It’s not tentative in the way that first kisses usually are.

He kisses you like he knows you.

Because he does.

Later, when he closes the door to the Bronco for you, it feels like the end of one thing. But as he slips his fingers into yours when he backs out of the parking space it feels like the beginning of something new.

That night tangled in Bradley’s sheets- he’d kissed you at every light which made those extra 10 minutes it took to get to his home worth it- he makes your back arch and your toes curl as he makes you come with his fingers and mouth and tongue and cock. His lips dropping kiss after kiss on every part of you that he can reach. Because he can, because you want him and he wants you.

The way he touches you tells you that he remembers it all.

He was you first, but what you wouldn’t learn until later, is that he would also be your last.

And he’d be the only man to ever have your entire heart.

Happy Birthday Jordan! An AU just for you! 💖 I adore you and I hope this year is the best one yet!

A big thank you to @callsignspark and @ofstoriesandstardust for their help and beta reading and their woogirling! I appreciate you two so much!

Author's Note: this was a "what-if" AU set in the 'Like I Can' universe! If you want to read about what really happens you can read it here!

You can read more of my stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw smut #top gun imagine #topgun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader

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edenesth · 3 months

Text

TWTHH Spinoff: Stitched Hearts [2]

Pairing: dressmaker!Hongjoong x noblewoman!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 7.7k

Summary: Throughout his entire career, Hongjoong has received nothing but praise for his work. Never once had anyone suggested his dresses were anything short of perfection. That is, until he met the youngest daughter of the Baek household—the family's black sheep, an enigmatic spinster whom he found utterly confounding.

Part 1 | Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist

"Go home, hyung, and think carefully about what I've said," Yunho insisted, ushering the dressmaker out of his clinic, "I really can't talk right now; I need to close up."

As Hongjoong made his way back to his shop, an internal struggle ensued between his mind and heart. His mind urged him to proceed with the job, reminding him he had no reason to be so troubled. Yet, his heart protested, insisting that it wasn't right. By going along with this, he would be complicit in someone's unhappiness.

Various scenarios played out in his mind as he imagined the aftermath of the makeover he was about to undertake. There was no doubt that you would attract attention from all directions, which wasn't the issue. He could picture potential suitors vying for your hand, but the thought unsettled him for reasons he couldn't quite grasp.

By the end of the night, his rational side prevailed, leading him to choose to proceed with the job. He concluded that entrusting another dressmaker with your makeover was out of the question; after all, he was the best in all of Joseon. You said it yourself; what you liked or wanted did not matter. If you were willing to comply with your family's wishes, then who was he to object?

He chastised himself for letting his emotions cloud his judgement. Despite feeling bad for you, he reminded himself that you were simply another customer. He shouldn't allow himself to be so affected by matters that were none of his concern.

Over the next few days, he dedicated himself entirely to crafting the most exquisite hanbok. He meticulously coordinated every detail, ensuring it would meet the approval of your family. As he finalised the sketch of your ensemble, along with the hairstyle and makeup he envisioned for you, he couldn't help but notice the absence of a smile on his drawing of you. It dawned on him that he had never seen you smiling, not even once.

Although a part of him entertained the idea of coaching you to flash a killer smile, his heart twinged at the realisation that any smile he coaxed would be forced, "Snap out of it, you idiot!" he scolded himself, shaking off the unnecessary thoughts and redirecting his focus to other aspects of the design.

In the meantime, Hongjoong's name seemed to echo through your days ever since his arrival. Your family would lavish him with endless praise for his dedication to his craft, simultaneously lecturing you for not being more courteous toward him, for expecting him to seek you out without you bothering to greet him upon his arrival. If only they were aware of the cruel words he had uttered to you recently. Would they still support him so fervently? Perhaps they would side with him and reprimand you even further for not showing him enough appreciation.

"My dear, why not try being a bit more hospitable today and give Mr. Kim a little tour during his visit, hm?" your mother suggested during breakfast, her tone tinged with exasperation, "It's hard to believe he's already been here twice and has only seen the library and your quarters. Take him around the gardens, at least, will you?"

You pursed your lips, feeling a hint of irritation rising within you, though you didn't show it, "But mother, he's here to work. He's not a guest. Why should we extend such hospitality to him?" you muttered, taking another bite of your food.

Haeun scoffed in response, "Are you even listening to yourself? Mr. Kim is doing you a huge favour. He even closed his shop just to come here for you. The least you could do is show him some courtesy," your father and brother instantly agreeing with her.

Feeling frustrated, you decided to keep your mouth shut, realising that nothing you said would ever satisfy your family when they teamed up against you to highlight your supposed shortcomings.

This is dumb, he's getting paid anyway.

"What a pleasant surprise, Miss Baek! How kind of you to finally greet me and offer to take me on a tour!" the dressmaker exclaimed with raised brows as he was met with your blank stare while you stood waiting by the entrance of your family estate.

Shaking your head, you gestured for him to follow you, "Trust me, Mr. Kim, it's not my idea, and I dread this as much as you do. Please endure it for a bit for the sake of pleasing my family."

He blinked, trying not to let your bluntness affect him. He should know better than to be surprised by your straightforwardness by now. Nodding quickly, he rushed to catch up to you, already several steps ahead, apparently unconcerned whether he was following or not as you began the tour, "Right, my lady! Of course!"

Amused, he chuckled softly to himself at your bored expression as you walked past main areas like the living hall and dining hall before reaching places he recognised. Speaking in a monotone, you pointed out, "You've already seen these places. This is the library, and my quarters are just over there, but you already know that."

Turning to him, you furrowed your brows, "Is there anything funny?"

Biting his lip to suppress his laughter, he shook his head, "Not at all, Miss Baek. Please continue," he reassured, finding your reluctance somewhat endearing.

His eyes widened in wonder as you both arrived at what appeared to be a small play area for the children, "This is a mini playground my father had our servants create for his grandchildren," you explained, gesturing toward your nieces and nephews who were running around joyfully, their laughter echoing through the air. Glancing over at you, he noticed a hint of envy in your eyes, as if you longed to experience the simple happiness the children were enjoying.

After a moment, you took a deep breath and shook off the sentiment, "Well, let's move on to other areas then. I'm sure you don't have all day, Mr. Kim," you said briskly.

Without giving him a chance to reply, you headed off in another direction. He sighed before running after you again, silently cursing you for keeping him on the move. Yet, despite that, he couldn't find it in him to muster any irritation toward you. There was something about your behaviour that felt refreshing. For once, he appreciated being treated simply as another person, rather than being placed on a pedestal for all his accomplishments or appearance.

Arriving at your next location, you remarked rather sarcastically, "Of course, we can't forget the most crucial place in the entire estate, the kitchens," your voice hushed to avoid attracting attention from the busy maids for fear of disrupting their work.

Just as you were both about to leave, a burst of laughter echoed through the kitchen, accompanied by a blunt remark, "I bet the young miss will end up divorced early in her marriage, even if she miraculously finds a suitor after the makeover Mr. Kim gives her. She's an absolute nightmare! What sane man could tolerate her for long?"

Hongjoong felt his blood boil at the audacious words, growling under his breath, "How dare they—" He clenched his fists and took a step toward the door, seemingly ready to confront them.

Surprised by his reaction, you reached out and grasped his wrist, causing him to look down at your hold before meeting your gaze with a questioning expression. You sighed heavily, "Forget it, there's no point in doing whatever you intend to do. I'm already hard to like as it is, and I don't want them to dislike me even more than they already do. Let's just get out of here, Mr. Kim."

Feeling a pang in his chest, he couldn't shake off the aggravation that washed over him at the acceptance in your tone. The realisation that you were well aware of everyone's dislike towards you, yet you had resigned yourself to enduring it, stirred an unsettling mix of emotions within him. Just how long had you been suffering all this alone?

When he remained rooted in his spot, you squeezed his wrist and whispered, "Please, can we just go?"

With a defeated expression, he squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, "Fine, as you wish."

As you both left the kitchen behind, his mind buzzed with unanswered questions. Why wouldn't you stand up for yourself? And why wouldn't you let him be the one to defend you? It frustrated him to no end. He couldn't comprehend how someone as strong-willed as you could endure such treatment.

The weight of your silence hung heavy in the air, leaving him feeling helpless and conflicted. He wanted to reach out, to offer some form of solace or support, but he couldn't find the right words. Instead, he walked alongside you in silence, his mind racing with thoughts of how to help you.

Glancing at him, you could easily discern his struggle to contain his annoyance. But what you couldn't understand was why he seemed more bothered by it than you, especially considering his apparent dislike toward you. Eager to move past the incident, you decided to follow your mother's suggestion and led him to the gardens.

"I hope you like flowers, Mr. Kim," you offered as you strolled among the blooms, "These are some of my mother's proudest collections, gathered from other provinces."

Relief washed over you as he appeared to be distracted, showing genuine interest as he examined some of the rare flowers not typically found in this area.

Giving him a moment alone, you scanned the area, straining to hear a faint meowing. Your eyes widened and you gasped as you spotted a cat stranded atop a tree. Without hesitation, you rushed forward, calling out, "Don't worry, kitty! I'll rescue you!" Your hands reached for the tree branch as you searched for a secure foothold to climb.

"Ooh, this one's pretty! Where did this come from?" he pondered aloud, his brow furrowing at the lack of response. Glancing up, he did a double take upon seeing you attempting to scale a tree.

Hastening over, he halted your ascent with a firm grip on your arm, "I turn away for one second and—have you lost your mind? What in god's name do you think you're doing?!"

Clicking your tongue in frustration, you pointed to the poor little distressed animal above, "Let me go. I'm going to save the cat, whether you like it or not."

The dressmaker sighed in exasperation, slapping a palm against his forehead as he observed the determination in your eyes. With a roll of his eyes, he relented, "Ugh, fine. Step aside, I'll do it."

You huffed, conceding to his offer, and relinquished your position. As he handed you the bag containing your latest hanbok, he rolled up his sleeves, muttering to himself, "I can't believe I'm doing this," before proceeding to climb the tree with surprising agility. However, he soon realised the tree was taller than expected, and panic gripped him as he reached the top, letting out a startled yelp, "Oh my god, this tree is way taller than I thought!"

"Quit wasting time and save the cat!" you urged, frustration creeping into your voice. When he shot you a glare, you narrowed your eyes and challenged, "If you're so scared, get down here then! I'll do it!"

"No, no, no, don't you dare! What kind of man would I be to let you do it, huh? You stay put and wait down there," he insisted firmly, before reaching out tentatively for the frightened animal, "Come here, kitty. It's alright, just come to me and you'll be safe."

With bated breath, you observed as his hand shook pitifully. Slowly but surely, the animal inched closer to him, bit by bit, until it ended up snugly in his arms. A sigh of relief escaped you as he succeeded. Holding the rescued feline close to his chest, he carefully made his way back down.

As soon as he handed the cat over to you, his legs gave out, and he sank onto the ground. His face was blank, as if he were still trying to process what he had just done. The last thing he expected when coming here today was to do something like this.

Seeing his defeated posture, unlike his usual composed demeanour, you couldn't help but let a smile sneak onto your face, eventually bursting into a fit of giggles as you replayed the scene in your head. At the sound, he glanced up, captivated by the melody of your laughter. Frozen in place, his heart skipped a beat as he beheld your smile for the first time, genuine happiness lighting up your features. At that moment, he realised your beauty, wanting nothing more than to see that smile more often.

How pretty.

Since that day, both of you appeared to have grown more at ease with each other. He abandoned the formalities, as you urged, and shed the false pleasantries. Finally, he felt comfortable enough to be his true self around you, letting his unfiltered thoughts flow freely and speaking his mind without reservation. You didn't seem to mind, especially since he hadn't intended any offence with his words.

While you wouldn't go as far as calling yourselves friends, there was a comfort in each other's presence that had developed. Even in moments of silence, there was never any awkwardness, only an unspoken understanding between you, a connection that required no verbal declaration; you simply understood each other.

Over Hongjoong's recent visits, a routine had formed. You would courteously greet him at the entrance before guiding him to your quarters. There, he would assist you in trying on the hanboks he had crafted, ensuring they fit perfectly and required no further alterations. He would experiment with different makeup and hairstyles, exploring which suited you best.

After weeks of diligent work to assemble the perfect ensemble for you, today marked the culmination of his efforts—the day he would finally unveil your complete makeover. With an array of hanboks he had brought from his previous visits, they were sufficient to constitute an entirely new wardrobe for you. This was the moment your family had eagerly anticipated, the outcome they had engaged the dressmaker for. He observed you scrutinise the items he had meticulously prepared, your expression unreadable.

"Are you ready, Miss Baek?" he inquired.

You shot him a look that seemed to convey 'are you kidding me', your lips pursed, "Does it matter? Just do what you have to, Kim."

With a nod, he began with your hair and makeup, his heart quickening with every movement under the weight of your attentive gaze, fixated on his handsome features. Unbeknownst to him, you held your breath whenever he moved a little closer to perfect your eye makeup. Cursing himself, he attempted to steady his trembling hands as he moved on to your lips, "Could you please look away or close your eyes?" he requested.

"Why?" you inquired, devoid of any jest.

He sighed, "Look, it's... it's distracting, okay? I find it hard to concentrate when you're watching me so intently."

Rolling your eyes, you acquiesced and closed your eyes, "And you claim to be a professional," you remarked.

For once, he lacked the energy to retort, his heart dancing with sensations he had never experienced before. Despite having applied makeup for countless women, he had never encountered such a physical reaction. Puzzled, he struggled to understand the inexplicable effect you seemed to have on him and his poor heart.

"Everything's finished, except for putting on the hanbok," he announced, placing his tools aside before excusing himself momentarily as your maids began assisting you with one of the most elaborate hanboks he had produced. Stepping outside your quarters, he was taken aback to see your entire family assembled and waiting. Bowing respectfully, he greeted them, "Ah, you've all arrived right on time. Miss Baek is almost prepared."

Hajoon stepped forward, extending his hand to shake the dressmaker's, "With your assistance, I'm certain she'll look stunning. Thank you so much for your dedication, Mr. Kim," your parents chimed in, expressing their gratitude for his hard work.

Suddenly, the attention shifted as one of your nephews pointed towards the entrance of your room, exclaiming, "Look, a princess!" All eyes turned to catch a glimpse of you.

A chorus of gasps escaped from your family members as they beheld the sight before them. Your family was overcome with awe, your mother and sister shedding tears of joy as if you had finally fulfilled their deepest wishes. Turning around, Hongjoong's breath caught in his throat as he took in your completed transformation for the first time, mirroring the astonishment of everyone else. You appeared breathtaking, meeting society's standards of perfection and seamlessly fitting into their expectations. Yet, the absence of joy in your expression failed to bring him satisfaction.

She's not happy.

In truth, a foolish part of him clung to the hope that you might still be impressed by your transformation once you had seen your beauty, despite knowing your reservations. He harboured a fleeting expectation that your initial reluctance stemmed from never seeing yourself adorned in such finery before, and that your perspective would shift upon witnessing your present appearance. But he knew he was wrong as soon as he observed your evident discomfort, your fingers clutching the hanbok's skirt tightly, your gaze averted while your family showered you with adoration.

Confusion enveloped him at that moment. He should have felt elated that his vision had come to fruition; your family's satisfaction with his work signalled the success of his mission. However, instead of joy, remorse consumed him; your family's praises fell on deaf ears, and all he could see was the despair in your hunched shoulders.

"Mr. Kim, this is utter perfection! You've truly outdone yourself! Please join us for dinner tonight before you leave! It's the least we can do for all the work you've put in over the past few weeks!" your father invited, excitement evident in his tone.

Normally, he would reject such offers, but he realised he wasn't ready to leave you just yet. With only you in mind, Hongjoong accepted, "It would be my pleasure, Official Baek."

Seated beside you in the dining hall that night, the dressmaker did his best to engage with your family members. However, his attention kept drifting back to you, noticing your silence as you picked at your food, showing little appetite. He grew concerned seeing you repeatedly reach for the wine glass, drinking more than eating. Haeun's disapproving glare didn't escape his notice.

"That's enough, maknae. No man likes a drunkard for a wife. With your enhanced looks, you'll be attracting a suitor real soon. Now's the time for you to start training to be a proper lady," she scolded.

Hajoon chortled, "Let her. Perhaps she'll be a better wife when drunk. That version of her might be more tolerable than her usual self."

To Hongjoong's dismay, your sister and parents joined in the laughter, despite your brother-in-law and sister-in-law exchanging apologetic glances in your direction. At that moment, he lost his appetite completely as he watched you quietly enduring it all, much like when the maids made fun of you.

Before he could inquire if you were okay, your father addressed him, "Mr. Kim, we apologise on our youngest's behalf for any trouble she may have caused you. Surely, she couldn't have been easy to work with. We will compensate you nicely for all your efforts."

Wanting to use the opportunity to stand up for you, he plastered on his most professional smile and spoke, "Not at all, my lord. Miss Baek has been an absolute pleasure to work with. She's remarkably selfless, unlike many customers who approach me solely for superficial reasons. Despite her reservations about fashion, she wholeheartedly complies for her family's sake. And I deeply respect her for that. The opportunity to make her clothing is reward enough for me. I consider myself fortunate to have such a client."

His response surprised everyone, including you, with its sincerity and absence of flattery or deceit. Your mother blinked, ashamed of herself for laughing moments ago, "Oh, that's reassuring to hear. Perhaps we should give her more credit for her efforts."

The atmosphere turned slightly awkward after the dressmaker's indirect words, making it clear he disapproved of their conversation about you. It seemed as though his remarks had prompted them to reflect on their behaviour, recognising the cruelty of mocking their own family member. Despite your usual straightforwardness, they understood that you truly never meant to hurt anyone's feelings. Guilt washed over them as they realised their earlier actions had been intentional and hurtful.

Absorbing the aftermath of Hongjoong's defence of you, a surge of emotion welled up inside you. His words resonated deeply, touching a part of you that had longed for such validation. No one had ever stood up for you in such a manner, not even your own family, who were supposed to be your closest allies. To hear someone speak so kindly of you, with genuine sincerity, was a rare and precious gift.

Looking up at him, you felt a warmth spread through your chest. Perhaps, in that moment, he had become more than just a dressmaker to you. Maybe, without him even realising it, he had earned the title of friend.

As he gently confiscated the wine glass from your hand and replenished your bowl with food, a tiny smile tugged at the corners of your lips. His gesture felt like a moment of genuine concern that warmed your heart. Whether or not he realised it, he was showing you a level of care you hadn't experienced before, and it felt comforting to be treated with such thoughtfulness.

"Stop drinking so much and eat more, my lady. You'll be sick if you keep up like that," he lectured with a soft grin.

You wondered if this was his way of showing that he cared. Regardless, it felt nice to be looked after, to have someone pay attention to your well-being in such a simple yet meaningful way. As you took a bite of the food he had placed before you, a sense of gratitude washed over you, grateful for his unexpected kindness in a world that had often felt cold and indifferent.

After the meal, he said his farewells to your family but insisted on walking you back to your quarters before departing. Upon reaching your room entrance, you turned to him, saying, "Well, I'm here safe now. You can leave, Mr. Kim."

He scoffed lightly, "Would it hurt to have a little chat before I go?"

Taking a seat on the short staircase leading to your room, he patted the space beside him, gesturing for you to join him, "Come on. I don't know when I'll see you again after this. Let's just... talk."

Your heart felt uneasy at the reminder that today marked the grand finale, and with it over, his job here was considered done. He would have no reason to visit your family estate unless summoned. Reluctantly, you settled down beside him on the step.

Despite his desire to converse, there was a moment of silence as you both pondered what to say. The ambience was filled with the chirping of crickets and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze as you sat side by side, your shoulders lightly touching. Mustering his courage, he finally broached the subject, "Be honest with me, Miss Baek. Do you hate my designs? I've noticed your unease since you put them on."

Gazing down at the vibrant hanbok adorning your frame, feeling the weight of the accessories on your head and the unfamiliar thickness of the makeup on your usually bare face, you let out a sigh, "I don't hate them. It's just... honestly, I don't feel worthy of such finery. They're undeniably beautiful, but they don't resonate with who I am. And if this is what it takes to attract a husband, I can't help but wonder... what good is a man who would only value me for my looks? What kind of marriage would that be? The maids had a point. Any man fooled by this appearance would likely end up divorcing me."

Frowning, he turned to you, seeing the rare display of emotion as your eyes glistened with tears, "That's not true, why would you think you're unworthy?" he questioned, genuine concern evident in his voice. Though he wanted to agree that a man like that did not deserve to be with you, he opted to address what truly mattered.

You let out a humourless chuckle, a sound that tugged at his heartstrings. It was unlike you to expose your vulnerabilities in such a manner. Perhaps it was the comfort of Hongjoong's presence or the effects of the alcohol. Or maybe it was a combination of both. You shut your eyes as your world began to spin, whispering, "I've never been good enough for anything or anyone. My parents made that abundantly clear since I was a child. Nobody has ever truly liked me, and don't pretend otherwise, I know you disliked me too. I just... I'm so tired. I want to be loved for who I am. Is that too much to ask...?"

It really isn't, my lady. I'm right here.

Your voice trailed off, a tear tracing down your cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder, succumbing to exhaustion. His heart ached as he hesitated, then gently wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Once he was certain you were truly asleep, he carefully slid his other arm beneath your legs and carried you into your room.

The dressmaker felt as if his life hadn't been the same since taking on that job. It had been nearly a week since he last saw you, the image of your tear-stained sleeping face lingering in his mind as he tucked you into bed. A heavy weight settled in his heart as he silently bid you farewell that night, making his way home with a sense of numbness.

Every day after that felt unsettling.

The initial satisfaction he anticipated from accepting your sister's job offer eluded him. Thoughts of you consumed his mind relentlessly. He wondered about your well-being—whether you were eating properly, sleeping soundly, finding happiness. Despite his yearning to see you again, even just a glimpse to ensure you were okay, he knew he had no reason to visit the Baek estate. The job was completed, and he had received his payment in full. Alongside the surge in his reputation, he had earned widespread recognition for transforming the once pitiful youngest Miss Baek into the stunning beauty you are today.

Consequently, his business flourished. Recognising his inability to change the situation, he threw himself into his work, attempting to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Day after day, he laboured tirelessly in his shop, his pockets filling up, yet his heart growing emptier with each passing moment.

"Huh, who would've thought this day would come? It seems someone could rob you in broad daylight, and you wouldn't even notice," the sudden familiar deep voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Looking up, he found Seonghwa standing right beside his work desk, "What's up with you, Kim Hongjoong? Need a break?"

"I told you, he's been acting all weird since he completed the Baek family's job," Wooyoung chimed in, appearing behind the general.

The dressmaker blinked, "Wh-what are you two idiots doing here?"

Seonghwa scoffed, "Oh wow, is that really the way to greet your friends who care enough to come check on you?"

Flustered, Hongjoong cleared his throat and returned to work, "Why do you have to check on me? I'm doing just fine."

"Are you really? That's not what Yunho told us. It sounds like someone's finally having girl problems," the investigator retorted.

The general grinned, "You know, for someone who gives so much relationship advice, you're rather terrible with matters of the heart when it comes to yourself."

With a sigh, the dressmaker rolled his eyes, "I don't have any problems. You two should worry about yourselves instead. Haven't you heard? Taken men have more issues than single lads like myself." The two had been exceptionally insufferable ever since the younger man had also begun courting his precious Miss Han, always borderline making fun of the rest for still being single.

"Really? So you're not bothered that Miss Baek has finally found a suitor?" Wooyoung teased. At that, Hongjoong dropped the pencil in his hand, head snapping up with wide eyes, "What did you say?"

His friends exchanged knowing grins before the younger one repeated, "I said, the youngest miss of the Baek family has finally found a suitor. The eldest son of the Yoon family has asked for her hand in marriage."

The dressmaker felt his heart drop, "The Yoon family...? Aren't they the ones on the verge of bankruptcy?"

Seonghwa nodded, "That's correct. I guess they must be taking the opportunity to forge a union with the Baek family to save themselves financially. I suppose it wouldn't be so bad now that the youngest miss is finally pretty enough to marry."

"Don't you dare say that about her; she's perfect the way she was. Her appearance doesn't define her," Hongjoong growled, glowering at his friend for the first time.

Rather than reacting negatively, his friends applauded his response, the older man smirking, "Congratulations, you're in love."

"I'm not—"

Wooyoung sighed in exasperation, "Listen, it doesn't matter to us whether you think you're in love or not. But if you aren't, I suppose it wouldn't matter that today is the day the Baek and Yoon families formalise the engagement. Do what you will with that information; we have a double date to enjoy."

At that moment, he came to the realisation that what he had been feeling all along was love. Looking back, he should have recognised the signs from the very beginning; despite his irritation with you, genuine anger never surfaced. The incessant thoughts of you had been consuming every moment of his life, a clear indicator in hindsight. Yet, he couldn't fathom why he had persisted in denying it. It was evident that he wasn't fooling anyone except himself.

The dressmaker's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he watched his friends leave his shop, "W-wait!" he called out, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness, "Thanks, guys. I appreciate the help."

With a playful wink, the general teased, "Atta boy, go get your girl. I'm looking forward to making it a triple date next time."

God, I sure hope she feels the same.

Meanwhile, you wandered through the gardens of your estate, accompanied by Byungho, the eldest son of the Yoon family and your soon-to-be fiancé, a sense of unease lingered within you. The suddenness of his proposal, along with his family's involvement, left you in a state of shock. While you had anticipated attracting suitors after your makeover, you hadn't expected everything to unfold in less than a week. Despite Byungho's outward appearance of kindness, you didn't know how to feel about spending the rest of your life with him.

Besides, you weren't entirely clueless.

You'd heard all the rumours circulating about his family's financial troubles, stemming from a failed business venture that had left them on the brink of bankruptcy. You understood that his proposal wasn't solely motivated by your newfound beauty; rather, you were seen as a solution to his family's predicament. And since he was still unmarried, it would be like killing two birds with one stone.

Even as you walked alongside the man who was supposed to be your future husband, your thoughts were consumed by a certain dressmaker. Amidst the familiar scenery of the garden, memories of your shared moments played on a loop in your mind.

Like the cat you had rescued and set free, you couldn't help but wonder about both of them—the stray animal and its saviour. Did he ever think of you, even fleetingly? The maids had recounted the events of your final night with him; how he had carried you back to your room and tucked you in with care. You regretted being influenced by alcohol, wishing you had bid him a proper farewell.

Now, you knew you would never see him again—the first person to show you genuine kindness despite a rocky start, the first to truly care, the first you had considered a friend... and perhaps more.

I miss you, Kim Hongjoong.

Little did you know, he stood just outside the entrance to your family estate, struggling to catch his breath. He pleaded with the guards stationed at the gate, conveying the urgency of his situation, "Please, I left behind a crucial tool that I need to retrieve."

"We apologise, Mr. Kim, but the Baek family is hosting important guests today, and we cannot permit entry to outsiders without a valid reason. Perhaps you could return tomorrow," the guard explained respectfully, bowing his head in apology.

As he regained his composure, a sense of desperation gripped him. He knew exactly who those guests were and the purpose of their visit. He couldn't afford to wait until tomorrow; he had to be there to stop it all now. However, he couldn't reveal the true reason to the guards, fearing it would only lead to his expulsion from the premises.

Summoning his typically fearless demeanour, he planted his hands on his hips and fixed the guard with an unamused stare, "Listen, I have a significant client waiting on her hanbok for tomorrow. If I lose her business because of this delay, will you take responsibility for my losses? I doubt your salary could cover the cost. So, soldier, are you prepared to shoulder that burden?"

The guard swallowed nervously, "I-I..."

Rolling his eyes, Hongjoong pressed on, "All I need is a moment to retrieve my belongings. What harm could my brief presence possibly cause? Do you think the guests will be bothered by a mere dressmaker dropping by to pick up his things?"

Lord forgive me for deceiving this poor man.

Finally relenting, the guard stepped aside, "I suppose you have a point, sir. My apologies."

As soon as he was out of the guard's line of sight, he moved stealthily like a spy. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself and face a barrage of questions. His heart raced in his chest as he scanned every corner frantically in search of you. Inside, the living hall buzzed with activity, hosting both your family and the Yoons. However, you and the eldest Yoon son were conspicuously absent. Panic and protectiveness surged within him at the thought of you being alone with another man.

He felt a wave of relief wash over him when he discovered your quarters were vacant. The mere thought of finding you with another man in your room made his stomach churn with jealousy. Passing by the library, he was once again grateful to find it deserted. These were sacred spaces shared only between the two of you, and he refused to let anyone else intrude upon them.

Finally, a sense of calm settled over him when he spotted you in the garden with your prospective betrothed. Taking cover behind a nearby tree, he strained to eavesdrop on your conversation while contemplating his next move. Walking up to you and blurting out his feelings like a madman seemed out of the question. Not only would it be reckless, but he also had to consider what your family would think of him if he acted so impulsively.

He needed to devise a careful plan of action.

Perking up, his attention sharpened as he heard the eldest Yoon son's words to you, "My lady, we've been here for a while. Would you perhaps like to have some tea in a more... secluded spot?"

Hongjoong's blood ran cold at the suggestion, his fists tightening involuntarily until he heard your firm response, "I'm not in the mood for tea, Byungho. If you want some, feel free to go ahead and enjoy it yourself. I'll be right here." A surge of pride swelled within him at your characteristic straightforwardness.

That's my girl, you tell him.

A tense silence hung in the air before Byungho's frustration reached its boiling point, "Enough of this, I've had it with you," he burst out, "Do you honestly believe that just because you've become more attractive, you're suddenly something special? Do you know what men outside are saying about you? Sure, you finally look pretty enough to marry, but they would have considered you if only you were a couple of years younger. Take a good look at yourself in the mirror, you're old. Be grateful I'm willing to marry you. You have no right to be playing Ice Princess with me right now, you hear me?"

The dressmaker's blood boiled as he listened to Byungho's disrespectful tirade against you. Unable to contain his anger any longer, he emerged from his hiding spot and strode purposefully toward the two of you.

"Look who's talking," he interjected, his voice laced with fury, "If she's so undesirable, why the hell are you and your family here begging to have her hand in marriage?" He narrowed his eyes at the bastard, his words dripping with disdain, "Look at yourself, Yoon Byungho. You're going broke and are relying on a woman to save yourself. I don't think you should be the one to talk."

Byungho's face turned red with anger as he shot back, "Who the hell do you think you are? Wait a minute, I know you. Aren't you just a lowly dressmaker? You have no right to speak to me like that."

But Hongjoong stood his ground, undeterred by Byungho's attempts to intimidate him, "I may be a dressmaker, but at least I have the decency to respect others," he retorted, "Unlike you, who seems to think you can treat people however you please just because of your family name. Would you prefer to back off on your own, or would you like me to repeat your earlier words to Official and Lady Baek word for word? Do you reckon they'd still want such a son-in-law?"

As the tension between them escalated, you watched in shock, unsure of what to make of the confrontation unfolding before you.

You didn't know how to react when Byungho scoffed in disbelief, "Whatever, I can't stand her anyway," he said before turning to you, "And you, don't come crying to me when you can't find someone to marry."

"Oh, don't you worry, she won't," the dressmaker sneered, watching the despicable man huff and stalk off.

Still in a state of shock, you blinked rapidly, trying to process Hongjoong's sudden appearance and his unexpected action in ending your engagement so abruptly, "M-Mr. Kim...? What have you done?"

He narrowed his eyes at you, "What have I done? More like, what are you doing, woman?" he retorted.

"I haven't done anything," you fought back.

"Exactly! Were you really just going to marry that douche of a man if I hadn't shown up? Even after he said those things to you? Don't you want to be happy?" he questioned.

Massaging your temples, you struggled to understand his point, "I don't get it, Mr. Kim. What are you trying to say? You know better than anyone my happiness never mattered."

He ignored your question, "Of course, it matters! And what the hell are you wearing?!"

Confused, you looked down at the hanbok you were wearing, one of his designs, "What do you mean? This is your—"

"Only wear what you want and do what you want! Why should you be so unhappy? This is your life!" he interrupted, frustrated.

Exasperated, you sighed, "In case you haven't been paying attention, no man will ever want me if I were to—"

He cut you off, gripping your shoulders firmly as he looked into your eyes, "I do! I want to be with you, okay? Your happiness matters to me more than anything else!" he declared before bravely pulling you into his arms. He felt like he could finally breathe again when you lifted your arms to hug him back.

A week had passed since that pivotal moment, and it was remarkable how one single moment could alter the course of your life. Hongjoong's unexpected intervention had changed everything. Byungho's decision to call off the engagement had left both families in shock, particularly his own, given their desperate need for financial assistance. The bastard was more keen to preserve his reputation, fearful of the repercussions of his outburst towards you. Strangely, your family seemed somewhat relieved by the turn of events, although the reasons behind their reaction remained unclear.

Eventually, it became clear when the dressmaker approached them, seeking permission to court you. The knowing grins exchanged among your family members answered your unspoken questions.

Haeun's laughter, unexpected to both you and Hongjoong, was joined by Hajoon's, "I knew it! I knew there was something between you two! Your actions spoke volumes, Mr. Kim, especially your protectiveness towards her that night. We've been waiting for you to realise it."

Your parents nodded, "You have our blessing, Mr. Kim. So long as our youngest is happy. But ultimately, it's her consent that truly matters. You should ask her if she's willing."

The dressmaker hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest as he reached for your hand, "I did ask her..." His nerves eased when you willingly intertwined your fingers with his, "And she said yes."

And ever since that moment, he hadn't let you go for long, always claiming to miss you. Though you were too shy to admit it aloud, you felt the same. Now, as you stroll along the bustling streets of town for the first time in what feels like forever, his hand securely holding yours, he shows you around, "Come on, beautiful. There's still so much to see."

He slowed his pace, noticing the slightly overwhelmed expression on your face, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, "Are you feeling alright, darling?" he asked, scanning the surroundings, wondering if you were perhaps feeling insecure due to any stares, "Is it the hanbok? I promise I'll make an even simpler version next time."

You shook your head immediately, "What? No! I like this, Joong, I really do," you said, smiling down at the simple yet elegant pastel-coloured fabric he had picked especially for you. He had replaced all the previous ones he made for you with a new batch of minimalistic hanboks you'd prefer.

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, he persisted, "Are you sure? You know you can tell me anything."

You chuckled softly, and he felt a flutter in his chest at the sight of your beautiful smile, "Of course, you know I can't lie to save my life."

His laughter echoed with realisation, "That's true, how could I forget?"

Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you leaned your head against his shoulder, your favourite spot, "I was just thinking..."

"About what?"

You blushed, "About us."

As you reached a serene little bridge spanning over a gentle river, you both paused to admire the tranquil scene below, leaning against the ledge side by side, "What about us?" he asked.

Turning to meet his gaze, you softened, "I just find it amusing how we ended up like this, together. I recall how much you couldn't stand me when we first met, and I thought I'd never see you again once the makeover was done. Yet... here you are."

He grinned warmly, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours, "Here I am, my darling. I was an idiot then, but I have no intention of ever leaving your side again."

Your heart brimmed with joy, a sensation you never thought you'd have the pleasure of experiencing. Similarly, Hongjoong felt a sense of pride as he observed you gradually opening up, becoming more at ease in expressing your emotions around him. He was proud of the progress you had made.

Caught up in the moment, he summoned the courage to finally kiss you. Truth be told, he had been searching for the right moment to share your first kiss but wanted to respect your boundaries. He knew you must have been new to all this, and to be fair, he wasn't much more experienced than you. While he had seen many couples throughout his life and displays of affection were nothing new to him, he lacked firsthand experience. He often wondered when would be the right time to take such a step.

Sensing his gaze fixed on your lips, your breath caught in your throat. Was the moment finally here? Were you about to share your first kiss? You closed your eyes instinctively as he leaned in, taking it as his cue to press his lips against yours.

Here goes nothing.

As your lips met, a rush of euphoria swept through him when he felt you kissing him back softly, enjoying the sensation of your lips on his. Slowly pulling back, you both broke into shy smiles, "That felt nice," he said, and you nodded in agreement, "It really did." Just as he leaned down again, intent on kissing you once more, you were both snapped out of your trance by the sound of a child yelling for help.

Reaching for his hand, you immediately pulled him towards the source of the commotion, only to find a little girl pointing to the top of a tree, "Help, please, somebody help my poor little kitty!"

You couldn't help but burst into giggles at the familiar scene as Hongjoong shook his head, "Nope, absolutely not. Someone else can help her," Pouting, you tugged at his arm, "Please, Joong? We have to help the poor thing! I'll give you a kiss when you do."

His jaw dropped before determination filled his being, "You know what? Deal. You best not go back on your words, woman."

Rolling up his sleeves, he approached the tree with a shake of his head in disbelief, "Goodness, the things I do for her," he muttered. But as he glanced back and saw the beautiful smile on your face, he realised he would be willing to save a thousand, no—a million more cats if that's what it takes to make you smile like that every day.

Anything to make you happy, darling.

If you haven't already read the first bonus chapter of TWTHH, please do so soon! I'll be working on the second bonus chapter after this hehe also, I hope you're all excited for Yunho's spinoff next!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/8): @itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline @green-agent @stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive @vantediary @superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho @vic0921 @foxinnie8 @marievllr-abg @sunnyhokyu @seungmin-in-thebuilding @heyitsmetonid @sansaurora9904 @darkestacademiamindsx12-blog @pay13 @kpop17 @professormingisglasses @newworldwritings @chicken-fifi @thunderous-wolf @shythinggiver @madnpan @yandere-stories @anxiousskylar @frobin4ever @starssongs98 @kamabokogonpachro @dollce-exe @jan-l @lovelyred2 @haven-cove @watermelon2319 @dreamingofyeo @akimkim @scuzmunkie @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @borntoshineateez @st4rhwa @ddaeing @tropicalsstuff @bts-army380 @skteezcursed @beauty143 @naps-over-degree @idfkeddieishot @sis-101 @lemon-sage17 @jcalicocatj

#edenesth #the way to this heart #stitched hearts #twthh spinoff #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #historical au #joseon era #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #ateez fic

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dontbesoweirdkira · 4 months

Text

Kung Lao yandere headcanons

Warnings: Yandere (obsessive and toxic themes) just cute little mentions of gore and murder blah blah blahhhhhhh…kung Lao being a little bitch. (Kinda inserted my fiancé as Kung Lao so if the personality is off…no it isn’t they are literally the same exact person🤞)

Requests: only for Yandere Kung Lao, Shang tsung, raiden and Johnny Cage mk11/mk1/X

General Yandere Headcanons

Kung lao has been fond of you from the beginning. You were always very open and welcoming towards him. Never once did you ever make fun of his hat or ever compare himself with Liu Kang like many many others.

Whenever he messed up or didn’t quite match up with his counterpart, you would encourage him and remind him of all he has to offer and that one small fail shouldn’t break him. You were the best friend Kung Lao could ever ask for.

As much as he’d hate to admit, he was desperate for this kind of special attention. He needed to be loved and praised, he needed to be better than all the other competitors. He especially needs to be better than Liu Kang…

After seeing him train harder than ever this past year for the next tournament, you turned to him and said..

“You know what? I honestly think you’re a far better fighter than Liu Kang at this point, and I wish more people could see that. It kind of irks me how Raiden doesn’t believe in you like he does Liu.”

Anyone else would say you were being a little too generous with that statement, but you meant exactly what you said.

Little did you know that this seemingly harmless comment made something in his brain snap….

No one has ever said anything remotely close to this to him. Sure, he’s gotten good remarks on his skills before but he’s always lived in his friend’s shadow. Finally, someone sees him for just how great he truly is.

His inhibitions were now gone and in that moment he decided you were his. You say it’s kidnapping, he says it’s redirecting you in the direction of his house. potato,patato!

He feels absolutely no guilt for kidnapping you and forcing your relationship. He believes he’s in the right most times. Everything he does is justified, including this……in some very sick way.

Kung Lao is a very needy and klingy Yandere. He orders you to be around him at all times or at least updating him constantly when you can’t be. Which is very rare, usually only happens if he has to be with the shaolin or if Raiden needs to speak with him privately.

He has a huge ego that constantly needs to be inflated by you. The man can’t help it, he craves your worship.

This means when he forces you to attend his sparring matches, tournaments, and workout sessions, you need to pay extra close attention. He will ask you specifically what you enjoyed about today's session and you better be raving about it, or it’ll be a hissy fit for the rest of the day. (So sassy)

Will shower you in compliments all damn day. He thinks you're absolutely beautiful in every single way and one thing that Kung Lao hates more than anything is someone with low self esteem. Lack of confidence is annoying to him so he’ll make sure you know you’ve got it going on.

(Ironic since deep down he’s crippling from his insecurities)

Very very physically affectionate and expects you to reciprocate it. Smothers you in kisses and cuddles.You have to hold his hand in public so people know that you're his. The way his grip is on you thooo. ;-;

Will just plop on top of you like he’s not 180 pounds of pure muscle. He’s so huge omg like you get crushed any time he has one of his love attacks.

Has a very mildly short temper. Most of his anger is never really taken out on you though. He’s just kind of asshole-ish to everyone outside of you

Will 100% threaten you and let you know that he’s not to be tested tho. He loves games but not when they come to you.

He cannot bear you giving anyone other than him attention, especially other men. Why do you even need to speak to other men??? You have the great Kung Lao right next to you.

Someone hits on you, he’ll get rid of them….

He’s willing to kill anyone for you. It’s all honorable, because it’s to protect the sanctity of his precious relationship.

If you start talking to someone for a little too long, flirting or he suspects you’re interested in another, he’s going to kill them too.. slowly and brutally…all for you to watch. He’ll slice the unsuspecting fellow in half, look up at you with a big ol’ grin!

“See, this is what I have to do when you start talking to people you shouldn’t. Now my hat is all filthy because of you.”

You need to know that Kung Lao is serious about you, and there are consequences to your stupidity. This will surely keep you in line.

Will also set punishments up too. He can’t find it in his heart to ever put his hands on you, but sometimes when he’s in one of many temper tantrums, he’ll leave bruises on your arm from grabbing or pulling you too hard. Though with that said, even if you try attacking him he will just try to pin you down or restrain your hands until you finally give up.

It’s kind of cute to him when you struggle. He’s so much stronger and bigger than you but you still think you have a chance…aww that’s so adorable and kind of amusing to him.

Usually his punishments consist of him locking you up for a day or two in his room, making you clean off his bloody clothes after he’s dealt with someone because of you, or doing some kind of chores he doesn’t want to.

If you try running away he will be deeply hurt and humiliated by this. He scolds you after he catches you and immediately ties you up. He takes away any basic necessities to further punish you. You’ve embarrassed him and now he’ll have to endure the whispers about it.

Why would you run away from the only person who can keep you safe? Is he not enough for you anymore???

You think this is some sort of fun joke?

Do you think someone fights better than him?????? If so he will challenge them to kombat to show you that he’s just as great as he was before.

Once he finally calms down kung lao would be very mopey for the next couple of hours. His ego is shattered in this moment and he just wants you to love him back. He’ll cling on anything you give him, he’ll even lose the hat for you if it meant that you’d never leave him again.

This is one of the only times where he’s openly vulnerable to you, outside of this he puts on his usual persona. Always self assured and well together. If you see Lao’s weak side too often you’ll think less of him.

Once you’ve finally gave in to his painful hours of pandering and promised to never leave him again, he snaps back to his old self.

It doesn’t matter how much you only thought of him as a close friend, Kung Lao is determined to break you down and become his perfect match. You’re the only one who understands him, and sees his true worth so he’d be a fool to just let you slip away. He’ll prove to you that he truly is the greatest once becomes the next champion. You'll soon see.

#mk11 #mk1 #yandere Kung Lao #kung lao #kung lao x reader #kung lao imagine #mortal kombat 11 #yandere mortal kombat #yandere imagines #mortal kombat x reader #lui kang #johnny cage #shang tsung #bi han sub zero #scorpion mortal kombat

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itsplumwriter · 8 months

Text

Sleepless Night

POV: Bucky can't sleep, and it's because he can't stop thinking about you.

A/N: Okay so this was super fluffy and I loved writing it :') it’s a little angsty too because Bucky is so terrified of admitting that he likes you and it makes him go to war with himself.

hope u like! i love u dolls!!

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Bucky settles onto the hardwood floor. It only takes him a moment to adjust his sheet before he lays flat, taking in deep breaths.

There has always been a layer of anxiety for him when it comes to sleep. He’d already taken all the preliminary measures to set him up for success. Warm shower, deep breathing, drank his nightly warm cup of tea. But he was still nervous it was going to be a rough night.

Since his days with Hydra, Bucky has always had a love-hate relationship with sleep. If he achieved it, it granted him either blank nothingness or horrific nightmares. There was no real incentive for him exactly.

Bucky closes his eyes, attempting to relax his mind.

He had a particularly gruesome day today. A mission that almost went sideways. If it wasn’t for your help back there they would have gotten fried. Sam and him were a good team, but if it wasn’t for you... the fact was you were better at them at seeing blind spots.

Bucky opens his eyes.

Crap, he’s supposed to be relaxing his mind, not thinking about you. Maybe he should just jump right into counting backwards.

He starts in his head. “100, 99, 98, 97...”

The counting reminds him of the clock you used on mission. It was your idea to time exactly when the enemies were exiting the camp. You stopped several threats before it even started because of this technique. It was really smart and saved their behinds from several obstacles.

He should really do something nice for you. Maybe he’ll get you that dessert from that shop near the Shield office you keep talking about.

Ugh, he did it again. He keeps getting distracted. He shifts to his side.

Maybe he should try deep breathing. Breathe in, breathe out, but his mind starts to wander.

Bucky remembers something funny you said. He couldn’t remember exactly what, but it was funny how you said it. Something about Sam acting like a baby once the gunfire started. He chuckles audibly and then tightens his lips.

Bucky sits up, his heart starting to race.

What was going on with him?? Why was he so distracted? And all his thoughts seem to be spiraling always to you.

Yes, he always sort of liked you. But he thought he boxed you away as 'just a co-worker' and nothing more long ago. Apparently not.

He tries to redirect his anger towards you. How could you have infiltrated his mind like this? Why did you do this to him? But then his resentment gives way to guilt. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't help the fact you were so kind, so smart, so sweet. How could you not leave an impact on his mind?

He found himself longing for you. He hated to admit it, but a part of him, the part that was not scared out of his mind about having a crush on you, kind of liked it. He liked thinking about you. It even gave him hope.

A part of him wishes you were with him always, not just on mission but especially right now. He’s almost sure you'd make a good wife. You could comfort him when he had nightmares. He wanted to be there for you too. He imagines holding you after a bad dream; it'd be nice to comfort someone else for a change. He imagines what it might feel like to have you curled up against his back or resting on his chest.

That’s it. He gets up, abandoning his spot on the floor. He starts to pace around the living room, his heavy steps stomping around the quiet room. What did he think these thoughts were going to result in anyway? It's not like he had a chance with you. He was a killer. Nothing could change that.

He gravitates towards his running shoes. He wasn’t getting any sleep tonight, that's for sure. Maybe he could outrun his thoughts.

He laced up his shoes, threw on his joggers and sprinted out into the night.

The cool mist hits his face as he races down the empty street. He tried to only think of running, but the more he tried to not think about you, the more he ended up thinking about you.

He slowed to a stop, almost in tears, doubling over to catch his breath.

"Fine! I have a crush, alright??" he blurts into the night.

As soon as he catches his breath, he runs home, pulling out his journal and jotting down all his thoughts.

I think about her more than I think about myself, alright!!

I worry about her so much whenever she's out of my sight.

She's smart. She's funny. She's kind. I wouldn't change a thing about her. God made her perfect for me.

I can’t stop wondering if she feels the same way about me. I don't deserve her. I know it. But I’d do anything for her.

She can have my heart. She can have everything.

He drops the pen. He feels wounded. Like his chest just ripped open.

He finally admitted it. And that made it real. It meant he wanted you. Needed you. He lays back down on the hardwood floor, covered in a layer of sweat.

Worry clouds his mind as he draws the covers over himself. Did he just ruin his relationship with you? Could he ever look you in the eye the same after admitting his interest in you to himself?

But then the thoughts grow quieter...

He’s almost in tears because a calm comes over him. Not fighting the thought of you allows him to fall into the deepest sleep he’s ever had since before he was the Winter Soldier. And even though he knows that when he awakes he'll want you and he isn't worthy, he will do everything he can to work towards being the man you deserve.

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Part ii on my Patreon!: https://www.patreon.com/itsplumwriter

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i really hope you guys liked it!! I love u and God bless you, dolls!

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shadesslut · 10 months

Text

serene

Pairing: (Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader)

Content Includes: (Fluff)

Summary: Ethan and Y/N go on a lil cute aquarium trip together.

(a/n: this is really short and I miss the ocean)

Masterlist

✮

She pressed her palm flat against the glass as she wore a wide grin. Ethan looked at her with his eyes full of love. They were on their senior trip, in Florida, and Ethan had asked her to go to the aquarium with her on their last day. The whole trip, he had been pining for her, wishing she would catch on the subtle hints he gave her.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” She asked, still looking through the glass as various fish swam by. Ethan nodded, continuing to look at her.

She turned to face him, and she kept her smile, which made Ethan’s cheeks flush pink. She glanced behind him, and she gasped before pulling Ethan to the next exhibit. He giggled excitedly as she pulled him through the crowd of people, and they stopped in a darker room, full of tanks with jellyfish. Ethan looked around, a flustered smile still on his face, and Y/N walked up to one of the tanks, pressing her face up against it. She looked like a little kid, a thrilling gaze lingered from her eyes. Her eyes followed a jellyfish, and she bent down as it swam lower.

Ethan bent down next to her, balancing on his knees. They stared at the jellyfish for a few minutes in a blissful silence.

“I wish I could live in the ocean.” She whispered. “They look so at peace, you know? Nothing to worry about,”

“Just floatin’,” Ethan joked, laughing slightly. Ethan’s phone vibrated in his back pocket, and he reached back to pull it out, receiving a text from Chad.

Chad

Did you tell her yet ?

2:36 pm

Ethan looked over at Y/N, who was still staring happily into the tank.

Ethan

Not yet

2:36 pm

He silenced his phone, putting it back in his pocket. He cleared his throat, gaining her attention. “Can I talk to you about something?” She nodded, smiling. Just as he was about to confess, a wave of anxiety suddenly rushed over him. His cheeks turned red, and his throat started to feel tight. “S-So, what’s your favorite animal?” He redirected. She bit the inside of her cheek, looking up as she pondered. Ethan mentally slapped himself for being too afraid.

“Whale sharks.” She answered, proudly.

A little bit of his nerves washed away at her answer. “‘Whale sharks’? I’ve never had anyone answer that.” he chuckled, sitting all the way down against the wall as he situated himself. She laughed breathily, sitting next to him. It was just the two of them in the room now, sitting alone a little bit too close to each other, with the jellyfish happily swimming around.

“Oh, so I’m the first girl to answer that? You ask every girl you take to the aquarium that question?” She teased, and his ears became red. His eyes widened, and he rapidly shook his head at her.

“N-No! You’re the only girl I’ve taken!”

She let out a cackle at his panic. She rested her hand on his shoulder as she doubled over laughing, but Ethan didn’t laugh. He only stared at the contact of her hand. He felt like a teenage boy, growing giddy over a girl barely touching him.

“Why whale sharks?” Ethan asked, breaking her laughing fit.

“Because, they’re just so…beautiful. They look like they’re space, and they’re white dots are like little stars. Also, they’re really passive with people, so people dive with them all the time. You can’t touch them though, something about a protective layer they have that’s really sensitive. But, just looking at them, it’s enough. Sorry, I’m rambling,” She stopped herself, looking at Ethan. He was in pure awe, he had never heard her talk about something she loved so much before. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you’re beautiful.” He whispered. She quietly gasped, widened eyes. He moved closer towards her, and she gulped nervously. His pinkie finger grazed hers, and with every drop of confidence Ethan had, he wrapped her pinkie with his. “I really wanna kiss you right now,”

“In front of the jellyfish?” She whispered, half-joking. He softly chuckled at her words and reached up to hold her chin gently. He swiped his thumb over the bottom of her lip.

“I don’t think they’ll mind.” Ethan whispered back. He leaned forward while she reciprocated, and he lovingly placed his lips on her plump ones. He inhaled deeply as he felt her, all of her. He slowly moved his lips against hers and slid his hand around her, resting it on the back of her head. He pulled away, their noses still touching, and smiled at her. “I’ve wanted that, for so long.”

“Me too,” she whispered against his lips. “You should do it again,”

He smiled sweetly, before answering, “If that’s what my pretty girl wants,” He leaned forward kissing her one more time. The soft lights from the tanks illuminated both of their features and glimmered against their skin. Ethan never really thought that much of the ocean, but now, he understood how she felt. The ocean was at a level of serene, and he felt it as he kissed her. He felt as if he was drowning in the water, suffocating. She felt like the ocean, pulling him down in a useless attempt to enchant him, but he was already enchanted. She felt like the warm water against his skin, and her hair flowed as the animals did in the sea. Everything above the water was muffled and blurred, she distracted him from everything else, and he never wanted to go back. He didn’t want to go back to the world, he wanted to stay under the water, with her, and the whale sharks. He loved the ocean, he loved her.

#scream #scream 6 #scream vi #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #jack champion #ghostface x reader #ethan kirsch #ethan landry x you #ethan landry fluff

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Note

Are you open about yandere prince?👉👈 If so then I have these thoughts about yandere sunshine prince got caught killing someone by their favorite knight!reader.

[Tw: Gore and Violence]

Air knocks out your chest as you fall on uneven ground. The blade at your throat is replaced by an extended hand as your attacker bellows a hearty laugh at your tempory defeat.

"I believe that counts as a point for me, Cap."

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he flexes his muscles to a crowd that wasn't even there. Being referred to as captain is still a new horizon for you. After a long string of disappearance, including the well respected and adored former captain, the storm seemed to be in the clear for now. Pain carried by all, each day was cherished in the kindgom for their loses and the reality that anyone could be next.

The first celebration since the tragedy was your anointment as captain of the royal guard. As the prince's former personal guard and a protector of the royal family since your youth, the choice was unanimous. Little did you know that your captain had written a letter of recommendation prior to his disappearance. He always knew you had the strength for the job, he just wish you had the heart. If only he could see you now.

"I suppose you're right, but you seem to be forgetting something."

"And what might that be~ Captain."

You grab the solider's hand, but instead of using it to right yourself, you pull him towards you as you drive your heel directly into his knee. You roll out of the way as he stumbles forward from the disruption in balance and pain, still holding onto his arm as he crashes to the ground beside you. You stand up and pin the limb to his back, redirecting your hand to his elbow as you shoot it upwards.

"That's a measly one to my eleven."

You press down on his arm harder.

"Ow- ow- ow- I give, I give!"

"Make that twelve."

A whistle sounds from the castle wall.

"Whooo, yeah! That's the knight I know and love!"

The crown prince hopes over the short wall separating the training grounds and the main path to the castle, half skipping and half sprinting over to you. You shield your eyes from the brightness of his smile, letting the solider go who then bows before your future king.

"Good evening, my highness."

The prince doesn't seem to notice him, throwing his arms in the air as he laughs. "That was amazing, Y/n! Let me to reward you for your efforts with a hug." He puckers his lips." Maybe a kiss too?"

"I'm good on both. Aren't you supposed to be with your guard?" If there was one person who opposed your promotion, it was the prince. In public he put on a brave face, but in private he cried and begged you not to leave him, and even went behind your back to the king with no success. From what you've heard, he's been placed with four guards already and the week had just begun. His upper lip twitches.

"You're so funny, Y/n. You are the only guard I'll need. Which is why I'm here!"

"Right. I think training is over for now." You turn to the solider. "Would you like me to get you something for your arm?"

He grins, blinking back tears as he raises his arm in triumph. "This? This is nothing. C'mon Cap, let's go one more round for all the marbles. I was this close to wiping the floor with you. I'll even buy you a drink if ya win."

"Don't get too cocky." You lightly punch his shoulder, the begins of a smile on your face. The prince's falls.

Why?

"Besides, you already owe me a dozen."

The solider winces as he holds up his injured arm. "It's an honor to be at your side, Captain."

You take it. "Likewise. I'll go get you that ice."

With a simple shake, you drop the man's hand as you march towards the castle. Time feels like a crawl for the prince as he watches your fingers part. The soldier's tighten around yours at the last second before he lets go. He sighs as you fade into the distance, mumbling to himself.

"Hate to see them go.... but love to-"

The eyes burning a hole in the back of his head cause him to hold his tongue. He corrects himself. "The captain.... they're something special aren't they?

The prince doesn't reply. He can't. The blood rushes to his head, his hands tremble. Why- Why did you do that for him? Why did you smile? In all your years together, those were rare. The light at the end of a tunnel, given out to this- worthless piece of garbage like a cheap carnival prize. You abandoned him, and now this. It hurts. It hurts so much that he can't breath.

"Your highness? If I may speak.."

"What is it."

His tone catches him off guard, but the solider continues anyway. "Do you think... Do you think I have a shot with them? I know this is inappropriate, but you've known them the longest so...."

It hurts. He's going to die.

The prince grins.

"I'll let you, if you beat me first."

You tie the rag around the solid block of ice as you exit the castle. Your light steps grow heavier as you near the wall. It not like you hated the prince. While you wouldn't admit it aloud, he was one of the first people you could truly classify as a friend. It's just that you have so much more freedom now. A permanent place on the field rather than the faux paradise he tried to build for you both. Maybe someday, when danger and fear was only an afterthought, you'd treat him to a date in the kindgom.

"Prince?"

The field is empty. Surely you haven't been gone that long that they'd up and leave you, not to mention the prince would rather die than depart from your side. You hop over the wall just as he had, the area as deserted as an actual battlefield. Looking at the ground, you find footsteps leading away from the area to a wall behind the castle. The footsteps dissipate as you follow. Switching from two pairs of feet, to one, to large streaks through the soil like someone's been dragged. Blood seeps into the trail and collects along the pebbles in the earth. You ready your blade as you near the scene; a squelch and familiar scream the kickoff for a sight even your wildest nightmares were unable to conjure.

The solider, your ally, flung across the floor, eyes vacant and pale skin dyed red. His body was covered in stab wounds, but none of them fatal. Precisely darted in odd places to avoid any arteries or important organs, as if his assailant wanted to prolong his suffering as long as possible. The contents of your stomach rise to your throat as your eyes land on his right arm. The same he used to lift you up and shake your hand in solitary. His fingers were bent and twisted in bizarre angles, a combination from being stomped on and mangled by someone's own two hands. His ring fingers is almost completely torn off.

As another stab tears through his body, your brain finally registers that his attacker is still there, on top of him. As if things couldn't get any worse - he was still alive.

"R....u"

Eyes shoot in your direction. The dagger falls to the ground followed by a quickness of breath. Ever so faint, a voice calls out.

"Y-Y/n?...."

The prince jumps off the solider, kicking away the knife like he's next on the chopping block. Like he's afraid. He sobs, curling against the wall and hugging himself as he whimpers.

"H-h-he tried to kill me, Y/n! I had to! I had to..."

The prince buries his face in his hands. You want to be him. To hold onto anyone hope of him being that same, ball of sunshine that woke up an hour before you just to be able to start the day at your side, but that look on his face. It was the same one he wore when his father caught him eating dessert before he finished his meals.

You rush forward.

"Y/n?"

Your body acts before your brain. You punch the prince square in the jaw as he reaches for you. He hits his head against the wall as you pick up the solider and sprint towards the infirmary, praying to whatever god there was that were was still time. A genuine sob bubbles in the prince's chest as you run off, but he can't help but laugh.

"Y/n.... always the hero. I would've been happy being the prince trapped away in the tower... if it meant having you."

He sticks in fingers in his mouth, swabbing the inside of his bloody cheek that his teeth tore through. He spreads the mixture of blood and saliva on his tongue, fluids he'd spill at any moment for you. Whether his or another's."

"Guess I'm the villain now... I'll play along if it means that in the end we'll be together forever."

#Knight reader #yandere #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere insert #male yandere #yandere blurb #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere prince #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #yandere x darling #yandere drabble

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prescottsgirl · 11 months

Text

REAL SWEET, BUT I WISH YOU WERE SOBER

sidney prescott x fem!reader

summary: sidney gets drunk for the first time ever and the only person her friends know to call is you.

warnings: drunk sidney, vomiting (putting a warning before it for anyone who needs to skip over it)

note: for the sake of this fic, we’re pretending that nobody was getting murdered at stu’s party

It was nearly twelve at night when you got a call from Stu's house phone. At first, you didn't even want to answer. You knew he was probably calling you, drunk off his ass, just saying some stupid shit. But you also knew that his party was tonight and Sidney was there.

You decided not to go because you’d rather not spend your night around a bunch of other drunk teenagers. With an eye roll, you picked up the phone. You couldn't just ignore it. What if it was Sidney calling?

When you answered, an unexpected voice spoke through the phone. "Hey? Y/n?" You instantly recognize it as Randy. You could hear loud cheering, laughter, and chatter in the background, making it nearly impossible to hear his voice clearly.

"Randy? What's up?"

"You need to get here. Sidney's shit faced and won't get off the bathroom floor," he seemed panicky, but you think he was just worried that he would be left alone to deal with her.

"What?" You said, your voice loud enough to wake up your entire house. Sidney had never drank before, and she made it clear that she wasn't interested in it. She was too anxious, especially after her mother murder, she felt she needed to be completely aware and in control at all times. "Shit. Okay I'll be right there. Stay with her please?"

"Will do. Get here fast."

You wasted no time jumping in your car and driving down to Stu's house. You had no idea what to even expect when you got there. You were worried for your girlfriend, even though you knew she was safe with Randy right now.

As soon as you arrived, you pushed through all of the people flooding in and out of the house. You went straight towards the bathroom, ignoring all the greetings and cheers from your friends and classmates. Sidney was the only thing on your mind right now.

The door was wide open, and you saw Randy pacing back and forth while Sidney just sat on the floor with her head rested again the wall. Randy himself seemed a little tipsy, but not nearly as bad as Sidney.

"Thank god you're here," Randy said, exhaling a deep breath that he seemed to be holding in. He was quickly lured out of the room while you went over to Sidney, kneeling down to her level.

"Hey, Sidney, baby, it's me. Are you okay?" You put your hand on her cheek, feeling it be unusually hot and sticky. All she did to respond was let out a little groan and rolled her head over to face you. "I'm gonna take you home. Can you stand up for me?"

Slowly, she shook her head, her eyebrows furrowing as she squeezing her eyes shut. "m'head hurts," the brunette slurred under her breath, hoping it was loud enough for you to hear.

"I know, baby. I know. You had a little too much to drink. Just hold on to me and close your eyes, alright?" Without needing an answer, you wrapped your arms around her body and she clung around your neck. You helped pull her to her feet, pretty much doing all the work yourself.

She staggered out of the bathroom with you holding her upright, otherwise she would've fell flat on her face. "Can't leave. Party just started," Sidney said, trying to pull you towards the living where the party was most lively.

Her coordination wasn't too well and she almost walked into the wall but you redirected her back to the front door. "I think the party's over for you, my love. We have to get you in bed."

"M'fine," she tried to argue, but continued to let you lead her outside.

"You're drunk," you giggled at her but she seemed to be distracted by everyone outside with the red solo cups in their hands to continue on with the conversation.

Finally, you got her into the passenger seat of your car, helping her buckle when she reached her hands to the wrong side of the seat for it. As soon as you shut the door, her cheek met the cold window as she gave up trying to hold herself upright. Although she seemed worn out, her eyes still shimmered as if she were seeing the world for the first time ever.

"Hi," she says to you when you get into your car. Her head only slightly turns, and stays leaned against the window. Something about the way she says it and her dimples coming out as she smiles at you just makes your heart feel warm.

"Hi, pretty love."

At the term of endearment, her cheeks burn a deeper shade of red, as if you haven't call her it a million times before. She bites her lip as you start up the car, just wanting to get her home before she possibly gets sick or passes out.

"You think m'pretty?" She seems genuinely shocked by this.

"Of course. The prettiest girl in the world." You start driving back to Sidney's house, making sure to be extra careful so the police wouldn't have any reason to pull you over and see you girlfriend in that state. You know that your friends brother, Dewey, would somehow get you two out of trouble anyways.

"Really? I think you're the prettiest girl in the world too," she pauses for a moment, deep in thought before continuing, "I wish I could kiss you."

You chuckle at her because you can't deny how adorable she's being. She's typically never this talkative and upfront. Being drunk is definitely giving her a boost of confidence.

"You can kiss me, silly. Just not right now."

She nods her head but quickly learns that it doesn’t make her head feel too good. She squeezes her eyes shut and holds her forehead as if she has a brain freeze, but continues on talking like she doesn't even feel the throbbing. "That's right. 'Cause you're my girlfriend so I can kiss you whenever...wherever..."

You scoff at her, but it's only playfully. And then you look over at her while stopped at a red light and suggest that she should close her eyes so her head doesn't feel worse. She ignores it and just continues on rambling for the rest of the car ride about how much she loves you.

Luckily, her fathers not home. He's off on a work trip which makes this much easier than trying to somehow get Sidney through her bedroom window on the second floor. That certainly would've been a mess.

You're about to get out of the car but Sidney reaches for you - at least she tries to but just ends up missing. "Where ya goin'?"

"I'm gonna get you out of the car, darling. Okay? Just stay right there for me."

You walk around the car and open up her door, before you can even grab her, she already clings her arms around your neck herself. You pull her up out of the car and get you both inside her house, using the spare key that the Prescott's store under the welcome mat.

Getting Sidney up all the stairs wasn't an easy task, but she's luckily light and fairly cooperative so it doesn't take up too much time.

- vomit warning -

As soon as your on the upper level, Sidney hunches over with her hand on her mouth. Your quick to react and understand where this is going before she can even alert you. "Okay, alright, bathroom, bathroom, bathroom!" She quickly staggers toward the bathroom with you following right behind her, your hand on her back to keep her upright.

Her head makes it to the toilet just in time for her to empty out her already empty stomach. You pull back her hair and swiftly tie it into a ponytail with the elastic that's on your wrist.

She whines as she finishes up. You sit there, rubbing her back and whispering sweet things so she knows you're there for her. "You're okay, baby. I'm here. Right here with you."

- vomiting over -

When she's done, she lays back to where her body falls into your lap. As cute as she was being in the car, you can't help but feel bad for her now when you see the tear streaks on her face.

You wipe away the tears and lean down to kiss her freckled nose. All you can smell is all that alcohol radiating off of her as you get closer to her face. "You okay now?"

She weakly shrugs, her eyes halfway closed because the bathroom light is too bright for her right now. "Tired." You know she's completely checked out when she won't even speak in a full sentence to you anymore.

"My poor love, let's get your teeth brushed first." You carefully slide her off of your lap and let her rest against the wall, making sure she's comfortable and steady before you get up.

You add toothpaste to her toothbrush and kneel back down to her level. She let's you brush her teeth and she doesn't even care that she feels like a complete child right now because she doesn't even think she would be able to get her toothbrush in her mouth if she did it herself anyways.

When the task is completed, you get her up off the floor. At this point, you're pretty much carrying her back to her room. She collapses onto her bed as soon as you make it over there with her.

You grab her some pajamas, a plain coral t-shirt and a pair of short. When you go back over to her, she seems to be more awake than she was just moments ago. She smiles up at you like nothing wrong has happened.

"Hey, pretty. Can I get your pajamas on you. Is that alright?"

"Yeah," she says, happily suddenly, and bites down on her bottom lip. You help her out of her clothes and into her pajamas, making sure she's okay and comfortable the entire time.

When you're done, she gets under the covers and seems deeply upset when you don't immediately join her. "You're leaving me?" she asks, her voice so weak and tiny.

You quickly shake your head and get into bed with her. "Of course not. I'll be here all night with you, okay?" You couldn't imagine leaving her all alone in this big house while she was in this state.

She cuddles into you, rests her head on your chest, and you softly play with her hair in hopes it'll lull her to sleep like it typically does. "I feel all better now. Thank you."

You giggle at her and kiss her forehead. "I'm sure you do, baby. You're welcome. Now get some sleep, I love you."

"Mhm, love you too," she mumbles under her breath as sleep consumes her in the safety of your arms.

#sidney prescott #neve campbell #scream #wlw #lesbian #scream 1996 #scream 2 #scream 3 #scream 4 #scream 5 #sidney prescott x reader #neve campbell x reader #scream fanfic

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mothfables · 6 months

Text

Snail Ch. 1: I Was Just Born Like This, Wish That I Could Change It

Legend is hit with an unknown spell, or perhaps curse, leaving him the age he was when he began his first adventure but with his current memories. The Chain worries.

It happens suddenly.

One moment, the Veteran is himself, dancing across the battlefield with his usual grace. The next, there’s a bright flash and he’s a tiny bundle of green and pink. He tumbles to the ground, dazed and disoriented, leaving the rest of them rushing to cover him and drive back the monsters who see a sudden piece of easy prey and redirect their attention to the unmoving lump on the ground.

The battle is quickly won with their foes so distracted and protectiveness running hot through the heroes’ veins. The moment the last monster dissipates into dark smoke Sky is turning, searching for his downed brother. It takes a second but he quickly spots him - he’s small, even smaller than usual; a tiny, trembling figure with a shock of pink hair that has Sky biting back the urge to coo. He takes a step forward, intent on seeing if the Vet is okay, if he’s hurt at all besides the transformation, and bright violet eyes snap towards him.

The look in them brings Sky up short because that’s fear in those eyes. Not relief, or worry, or a hundred other things he’s used to seeing in them. No, this is raw, blatant fear. His other brothers are crowding close now, exclaiming loudly in worry, and those bright eyes follow their every move. Sky’s heart sinks at the realization that for whatever reason their veteran is scared of them.

One of them does something he can’t catch - moves too fast or steps too close, perhaps - and Legend bolts. The heroes shout after him but he’s fast, disappearing into the trees lining the road in the time it takes to blink.

“STOP!!!” Sky shouts, halting the rest of them in their tracks. Rarely does the Chosen Hero make himself so loud, preferring to let the more energetic of his siblings take the spotlight. As such, when he does deign to raise his voice, the rest of them listen.

“B-but we can’t jus’ let ‘im go off on ‘is own!” Wind protests, biting his lip. “‘e’s all small, he’ll get lost out there alone!”

“And we’ll find him,” Sky consoles. “But did any of you see his face?” He gets his answer in confused looks and headshakes. “He was terrified. And-” He pauses, swallows. “And I’m pretty sure it was of us.”

He’s met with horrified silence.

Sky watches them for a moment, glancing between them and the trees where Legend disappeared in thought. Then he nods.

“Okay. You all stay here, maybe make camp or something. I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?” Four asks as he turns towards the trees. He glances back, a reassuring smile on her face.

“To find our Veteran, of course.”

And then she’s gone, vanishing into the forest after their missing brother.

~~~~~~~~~

Sky wanders through the trees, trying to stay in a straight line. It might not even be the right idea; Legend may very well have veered far away from the path the moment he entered the woods. Still, if she doesn’t want to get horribly lost, going straight is her best bet.

She doesn’t want to risk having Wolfie sent after her with a terrified child - mentally or not - somewhere in the woods. They may never find him then.

Luck seems to be on her side, though. It takes perhaps ten, fifteen minutes tops before she hears a distinctly-hylian noise in the otherwise normal chorus of the woods.

Her ears perk up at the sound and he listens closely. There!

Sky follows the sounds, faint as they are, to a dense clump of bushes. He can’t see anything through the leaves, but the noise cuts off when he draws near. His heart aches.

There’s no way Legend will be coming out of his hiding spot any time soon. Sky weighs his options (of which there aren’t many) before sighing and moving to sit down against a nearby tree. Not too close, though, or Legend will just feel trapped.

With nothing else to do but wait, Sky begins to hum, little nonsense tunes that help keep his mind from dwelling too deeply on the current situation.

The rustling of leaves catches his attention. He’s careful not to falter in his humming, though, in case it’s little Legend finally coming out of hiding. Any sudden changes could send him right back into the cover of the bushes, and then they’d have to start all over again.

Slowly, falteringly, a presence comes to settle nearby. Sky keeps humming, slipping into the Ballad of the Goddess almost instinctually.

As the last note fades, he slowly turns to look at who - or what - joined him. She’s greeted with soft pink hair and a dirty green tunic. Large violet eyes blink up at her from a small, pale face.

Sky gives a soft smile, very carefully not moving. “Hey there, I’m Sky. You must’ve been pretty spooked earlier, huh? I’m sorry about that. Are you alright?”

Legend (could they even call him that right now? Should they?) stares at him warily. He’s still several feet away, noticeably out of grabbing range, the older hero realizes. His heart aches again.

He waits for a few moments but no reply comes. Eventually he takes a deep breath and pushes himself to his feet. Legend watches closely the entire time. Sky pats himself down before holding out a hand to the younger.

“Do you want to come back with me? It can’t be very nice staying out here in the woods all by yourself.”

More silent staring, though this time it seems to be more like the boy before him is thinking, not frightened. The child (because unless Legend is still recovering from... whatever that was, that seems to be the case) hesitantly reaches out before quickly retracting his hand. Sky keeps his disappointment and worry well away from his face and pulls his hand back with an easy smile.

“That’s fine. Do you want to just stay behind me, then?” He hopes Legend follows; she’s not going to leave him all alone in the woods, even if it takes all night, but by the Goddess does she hope he decides to go with her back to the others. Not only would it keep the rest of them from getting any more worried than they most certainly already are, it would also give them the chance to see if he’s injured in any way.

...Also it would keep Wolfie from having to track them down and potentially scaring Legend back into hiding or running again.

Her hopes are granted when Legend nods and stands, holding his hands close to his chest as he waits for her to start moving.

The older hero does so, waving a hand in a ‘follow me’ gesture. Her ears flick back at quiet, shuffling footsteps behind her and she smiles. The two of them make their way back through the woods, the younger staying carefully out of sight but not straying, to the elder’s relief.

Eventually they find the road again; Sky can just see their companions through the trees. The closer they get, though, the closer Legend draws, despite his earlier hesitation. When they finally leave the cover of the trees Sky feels small hands grasp onto her pant leg and cling.

The other heroes are still where she left them, split between milling aimlessly about and standing together in small groups and chatting quietly, all of them sporting worried expressions. She has to suppress a snort; after all, if she was in their shoes she’d be doing the same thing. A hero’s spirit is not one for idleness when there is something to be done.

Still, she did suggest something they could do before she left, and a sudden surge of mischievousness brings a smirk to her face. She lays a gentle hand against little Legend’s back to reassure him as she calls out, “I thought I told you guys to make camp! I’m gone what, an hour? And I come back to find you all wandering around like headless cuckoos!”

As expected they start at her voice, some of them, like Twilight, flushing in embarrassment while others look indignant. There’s a tiny snort of laughter from the boy at her side and Sky feels pride blossom in his chest at the sound. He flashes the others a smile to show he doesn’t mean the words and they relax.

All of that falls away, though, when they spot the tiny shadow at his side. Instantly the worry and concern is back and a few of them start forwards as if to rush over and see him for themselves. Sky gives them a Look and they immediately back down. A protective Hylia’s Chosen is not one to be messed with.

After a moment to make sure they’re behaving themselves, Sky nudges his companion. Bright eyes look up at him warily, and he gives him another reassuring pat.

“Do you want to go say hi?” he asks quietly. “They won’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re worried about. And,” he adds, seeing the nervousness and fear creeping back over that small face, “if anyone does something you don’t like, they’ll have to deal with me.”

Shocked surprise replaces the fright before the boy gives a nod. A tiny spark of trust appears in those violet orbs and Sky’s heart swells.

“Alright then,” he smiles. He leads him over to where the rest of the Chain wait in anticipation, keeping a gentle hand on his back the whole way. Thankfully it seems the older heroes have the younger ones under control - Wars has a hand clamped on Wind and Hyrule’s shoulders while Twilight does the same with Wild. Four hovers next to Time, his own eyes sparking purple as he watches them approach.

Sky stops several feet away, a tug on his pant leg alerting him that they’re getting too close for tiny Legend’s comfort. Everyone forms a circle, and he can tell they’re trying their best not to stare.

“Okay,” he starts. “Time for some introductions, I think. I already told you my name, I’m Sky.” Legend nods. Sky smiles at him and gestures to the hero on her left to introduce themselves.

Hyrule starts at the motion before he nods, coughing and clearing his throat. “U-um. Hi. Y-you can call me Hyrule.” They give a meek little wave that Legend shyly returns. There’s a sudden chorus of coos that quickly stifle themselves when Sky casts a glance around.

Warriors goes next- and Legend startles badly enough Sky can feel it. She keeps her hand on his back in the hopes it’ll keep him grounded, and it seems to work because he doesn’t run again. The introductions continue.

With every name, he presses closer and closer to Sky’s leg, clutching his pants with tiny hands. His expression becomes more worrisome, brows drawing together and little ears flickering as he mouths each name. When they’re finished, he swallows, looking up at Sky then back at the group.

Then he speaks, and it’s a quiet, murmured, “‘m Legend. I know you.”

#moth’s tales #linked universe #lu legend #lu sky #lu the chain #linked universe fanfiction #snail #bonus bigender sky cause why not #he/she sky rights #fanfiction #also the start of dad!sky #um what else #deaging #linked universe au

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spinchip · 1 year

Text

They send Cole in to talk to him because Jay’s never had a serious relationship other than Nya (and they're still together,) kai’s only ever had flings, and Lloyd was as knowledgeable on break-ups as a wet pile of leaves. Cole is the resident expert on heart break, being as he’s had 2 long(ish) lasting relationships that had both come to a tragic end- albeit, even he wasn’t quite experienced with this level of heartache. His ex boyfriends were from highschool, and nothing ever mattered in highschool. Especially not since he’d become a ninja. Who cared if Joaquin cheated on him with Lexi? He saved ninjago from countless evils. Joaquin was probably regretting it now!

Kai nudges him and exaggerates his eyebrows silently, motioning towards the kitchen door. Okay, so Cole was stalling. Just a bit. He was a little afraid he’d be out of his depth on this-scratch that, he was certain of it. Maybe if it were Jay or Karloff, he could manage- but Zanes emotions ran wide and deep and it was so incredibly hard to navigate those waters. Alas, he was specially chosen for this mission. He had to try.

He cautiously creaks open the kitchen door and finds Zane… chopping vegetables. For some reason, he’d convinced himself he’d find him curled up on the counters crying his eyes out. Yes, Zane was a very emotional person- but Cole forgot how deeply Zane hid that part of himself away. He can’t rely on the obvious for this. He’s gotta go into ninja mode, really do some nitpicking recon.

One sleeve of his sweater is rolled up, the other has rolled down and hangs dangerously close to getting tomato juice on it. Oh man. He’s really upset. Zane was meticulous about cleanliness, especially in the kitchen. His mind is somewhere else.

“Hello Cole.” He offers the master of Earth a smile, “If you have come to ask about dinner, it will be ready in an hour or so. I will call you when it is time to eat.”

Oh, clever clever. Polite as a peach but a not-so-subtle dismissal tacked on at the end, which means there’s no way for Cole to redirect the conversation gently. Zanes is banking on him losing the nerve to confront him. Well, Coles is no coward (And the others would just make him try again later. Better to rip the bandaid off now, right?)

“I actually wanted to talk to you.” He starts, swallowing thickly, “About how you're feeling.”

Zanes hands still just for a moment over the next tomato before he soldiers on, “I am fine.”

Cole frowns, “Zane… I’ve been through it too. It sucks… it’s okay that you’re not fine.” He tries softly.

Zane places the knife down, picking up the cutting board and setting the tomato aside, “I understand your concern, but I am fine. My romantic relationship with Pixal has ended, but we will remain friends and that is agreeable with both of us.”

There’s a pause as Cole tries to think of what to say, “You’re really… just okay with that?" At this point, an upset Zane would have gotten that kicked-puppy expression and opened up a bit more. Maybe started wringing his hands together, or shut down completely. Was he really fine? Zane? "You two have been together for what, four and a half years?”

“Five years, three months, and 12 days.” Zane corrects gently as he wipes down the counter.

“And it’s... over? Why did she end it?”

Zane gives him a quizzical look, “Cole, I was the one who terminated our relationship.”

That shocks Cole so badly he actually has to grab the counter for support. his feet nearly slide out underneath him, and he struggles to regain his bearings, “What!?” He gapes, “But- you were like so in love with her!”

Zane cringes and he can’t quite hide it, “I certainly believe I was, yes.”

“Well, what happened? What changed?” He forgets he’s supposed to be helping Zane with his heartbreak, curiosity leaping forward.

“I do not wish to discuss that.” he murmurs, pulling out a large pot and setting it on the stove.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry.” He scratches the back of his head, “It just feels so sudden. I didn’t even know you were feeling this way…”

Zane shrugs uncomfortably, “I did not want to say anything until I was certain of my choice. I thought about it for a long time before I approached her.”

Cole catches that and connects the dots faster than he thinks Zane expects him to, “A long time?… since the Never Realm?” He ventures carefully.

Just like that, Zane's face closes off completely. He stiffly continues to make chili, but does not acknowledge Cole's presence. He doesn’t comment on what he said, and pretends like he never heard it.

Cole decides to speak again, “Y’know what happened in the Never Realm…” he lowers his voice, pitching it low enough so no one could even consider eavesdropping. Something just for Zane, “No one blames you. It wasn’t your fault… We don’t love you any less because of what happened. I know it can be scary to wonder what we think of you, but my opinion of you hasn’t changed. I’m sure Pixals hasn’t either, so you don't need to run away. We still see you the same.” He says genuinely, reaching out and patting Zane's shoulder.

Zane exhales and the air in front of him swirls with snowflakes. He brushes Coles hand off but not unkindly, “You do not understand. I spent sixty years in the Never Realm.” it’s not a surprise but Cole still winces, “She still sees me the same, but I have lived a lifetime without her, a life completely different from this. I am the one who does not see her like I once did. I am not the man I was, and I feel nothing…” He shakes his head and re-words his sentence to be kinder, “I no longer feel romantic love for her.”

“Oh.” Coles not sure what to do with that.

“Thank you for your concern, Cole, but I truly am alright. I have had decades to distance myself from that pain.” Zane assures him with a smile. “Now please, allow me to return to our dinner.” He motions to the pot, and Cole takes the dismissal this time.

When he’s nearly out the door he hesitates, peeking his head back in. Zane has gone back to cooking, one sleeve rolled and the other slipping down. Maybe that’s just who he was now.

“I have one more question.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know if I want to know the answer.” he admits, tapping an anxious finger along the door frame.

“Then do not ask it.” Zane says. His voice is light but there’s a firmness there. He offers the advice with a push.

Cole accepts it and lets the door swing shut behind him.

On the tip of his tongue is do you still see us the same?

How do you see all of us, now?

#zane julien #s11 consequences #cole ninjago #ninjago #spinchip fic #idek #pix/ane break up rip

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beoneofus · 1 year

Text

“ open up! ”

“ no! ”

a little girl, hair blonde, bouncy and scraggly like her father's, turned away quickly with a pout. bottom lip jutted out, brows quirked down in a bratty-type way.

“ c’mon, sapphire. ” marko sighed, leaning his forearm against his daughter's make-shift height hair. he was kneeled on the floor, spoon of mashed peas in hand. It was the only way she'd eat veggies, but as of right now, she was refusing for whatever reason. “ y’gotta’ eat your peas, baby cakes. your mom will kill me if you don't. ”

leaning forward, marko sat his chin onto sapphires chubby hand; big, blue eyes mocking her own that always displayed a puppy dog look. “ you don't want dada dying, do you? ”

although she was only three years old, the little toddler was very much smart. that's why she slowly cracked open an eye to side-eye the fellow blonde, her keen look never faltering. she wasn't sure she could trust marko, seeing as he's betrayed her before.

“ n-o, ” her slight speech impediment showed through. the way she pronounced her ‘ o's ’ was always late, by a millisecond. “ but, they're yucky! ” sapphire turned towards marko, blowing out her bottom lip raspberry style. “ I hate peas, dada! please d-on’ let me ea’em! ”

the teary-eyed, pleading look really caused marko's heart to swell. he never considered himself good at this whole parenting thing... I mean, hell, sapphire was an entire surprise. but he knew his daughter loved him, just as you always said. they were two peas in a pod. that's exactly why the blonde was on the very brink of granting her that wish - because he agreed, peas were very yucky.

but then you entered the room.

“ sapphire, baby. ” you cooed, nearing the little girl with out stretched arms. “ please eat your vegetables, sweetheart. ”

your stretched out palms cupped her rounded, rosey cheeks, giving them the gentlest squeeze as you laid your forehead to hers. “ if you do, dada and me will take you out to get ice cream. strawberry is your favorite, isn't it? ”

her face instantly lit up, eyes filling with practical sparkles. “ ICE CREAM? ”

you chuckled lightly, eyeing marko out of the corner of your eye. nodding to her, your focus redirected back onto your daighter; leaning back so you could boop her nose. “ yes! ” you exclaimed, grinning. “ all you have to do is finish off your peas. I don't think that'll be to hard, will it? ”

“ dada! ” Sapphire's head whipped around to marko, who was watching the exchange in awe. “ dada! hurry, we have to hurry! ”

marko blinked, still looking at you. you raised your brows and nudged your head in her direction. he got the message - inhaling through his nose, before turning to sapphire with a soft smile. “ of course, sweetie! ” lifting his arm, he opened his mouth in exaggerated excitement. “ open wide, the plane needs to land! ”

giggling, clapping her hands, your daughter did just that.

you watched on with a smile as your boyfriend fed the very being you two created. it's been tough, raising a little girl with little to no experience. the diapers, the clothes, the food, the education to teach her new things. It was all very tiring... but you guys managed - especially with the help of her three uncles.

she was definitely unexpected and unplanned, but you're so very glad she's here.

you loved your little family, and you wouldn't want it to be any other way.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #marko the lost boys #tlb 1987 #marko x reader #marko the lost boys x reader #marko tlb x reader

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ihathbenobiwankenobied · 1 year

Text

madness

Summary: Obi-Wan shows up at Cody's quarters with an infected lightsaber wound. Cody, unfortunately, is forced to call Skull, the 212th's lead medic.

(Or, the follow-up to Skull's infamous run-in with the 212th's newest secret couple)

Word Count: 3,292

Read part one here on tumblr or on ao3

Cody, in a rare event, had three free hours to relax, let loose, just… probably sleep.

Truthfully, he had requested that some extra time be carved out of his schedule while he was back on the Negotiator. Obi-Wan –the General– he often needed to remind himself, was away on a solo mission, one ordered by the Jedi Council. Without the General there, Cody was otherwise only filing reports away and waiting for him to get back.

Cody determinedly tried not to think about that exact fact. Typically, the Council’s missions were dangerous, often risky. Obi-Wan would usually admit later that he had to abandon his own sensical nature when it came to his recent Jedi duties.

The thought made Cody’s hair stand up.

Deciding, against his own urges, that there was nothing he himself could do to trick his mind into thinking positively, Cody made a purposeful effort to lay down and not think. About anything.

He crawled under the sheets, which of course still smelled like Obi-Wan’s Coruscantian cologne, and forced himself to breathe deep breaths. Pulling the blankets up under his chin and rubbing his fists over he heavy eyelids, Cody redirected his thoughts away from his duties and shut his eyelids against the soft glow of light coming from underneath the door of his small quarters.

Seconds –it seemed– later, he was blinking his eyes open to the sound of a hesitant knock against the heavy metal door of his quarters. Blearily, he blinked once or twice as he raised his head from the pillow to look at the door.

The knock came again, only slightly louder.

“Who is it?” He called out, his coarse tone coming out with the words. He hoped whoever was behind the door, particularly if it was Waxer, the little shit, would get the hint.

The response was another, more urgent, knock.

Cody groaned, head falling back into the pillow before he threw off his covers. He pulled a loose pair of old blacks onto his legs and trudged to the door, hastily slapping the button by the door to slide it open.

The person at the door was not Waxer, but Cody immediately wished it was.

“What the kriff happened?”

Cody’s body went rigid as he asked the question and took in the image before him.

Obi-Wan stood in the doorway, a sheepish frown on his sweaty face. He wore a soiled tunic and ripped pants; he had one hand pressed against the side of his ribs. In the other hand, he held a rumpled pile of medical supplies in a sack made out of a medical gown. Cody could see gauze and unopened bacta patches hanging out of the sides of it.

“I’ve made it back.” Obi-Wan said nonchalantly, though there was a nervous edge to his tone. “And nothing too serious; had a minor run in with Ventress.”

Cody stared at him, eyebrows raised as his thoughts moved at the speed of light. He looked toward Obi-Wan’s side where his hand was clenched over the wound. Rather than coated in blood, the edges of his tunic, where it peaked out from behind his hand, were singed.

Lightsaber wound.

Cody didn’t need to ask for confirmation, it was more than obvious.

“May I come in?” Obi-Wan looked at him expectantly, hardened facial features faltering for just a moment as he wobbled on his feet.

Cody caught his arm, and pulled him gently through the door. “On the bed. Sit.” Cody said sternly, trying to keep the anger out of his tone, as he led Obi-Wan towards his bunk.

The General offered Cody a soft, apologetic smile as he sat down singerly on the bed, still clutching at his side.

Cody’s heartbeat pounded heavily inside the walls of his chest as he took the makeshift sack of medical supplies out of Obi-Wan’s other arm and unrolled the contents on the floor. He noted a few small bacta patches, a couple rolls of gauze, several adhesive bandages, and one hypo filled with force-knows-what.

If Cody had to guess, Obi-Wan had snagged a stim instead of a painkiller thinking he could get some paperwork out of the way once he’s been bandaged up.

“You know, lightsaber burns aren’t minor, Obi-Wan…” Cody’s voice trailed off as he straightened up from his crouch and took a seat next to Obi-Wan’s injured side, medical supplies falling out of his arms and onto the course blanket stretched over his bunk.

The look on Obi-Wan’s face said it all– he looked defeated, eyes cast toward the floor and lips curled into something of a terse frown.

“I’ve had enough time in the medbay recently.” He muttered and cleared his throat, “Skull would probably have more than enough to say about the last time I needed him anyway.”

Cody barely held back a snort as his cheeks warmed a little. He had just gotten comfortable with forgetting about that force-forsaken night several weeks before. Cody had a reputation to uphold– one of strict adherence to procedures, never swaying from the books unless it was an absolute necessity– and yet, a simple visit from Skull had all but ruined that.

He had yet to work up the nerve to talk to Skull about it. He knew the medic well enough to realize he was just as stubborn and equally loyal, but the teasing–

That– Cody simply could not bear to endure if he didn’t strictly have to.

Instead, he dealt with the smug looks Skull repeatedly sent him from across the room during briefings. Once, he’d even overheard Skull call him loverboy in a conversation with Oxy at the mess hall. Though they pretended not to see Cody standing several troopers behind them, the Commander could barely handle the minor jab without the tops of his cheeks turning into an embarrassingly bright shade of red.

Cody shook the thoughts out of his head as he pressed his fingers over Obi-Wan’s trembling ones that still remained over the top of the wound. “You think you can let go?” He asked the General. Obi-Wan glanced down and nodded once in affirmation, though he didn’t look so convinced of his own agreement.

Cody was patient, his own fingers hovering inches away, as Obi-Wan gently pulled each of his shaking, bloody fingers away from the wound.

Immediately, Cody was hit with the stench of infection. The red, swollen edges of the wound all but confirmed that it had been there for days without even so much as a splash of water to flush it out. Cody swallowed, his protective nature kicking into high gear.

“Obi-Wan, did you clean this out?” He asked as calmly as possible, voice barely wavering.

He looked up to find Obi-Wan staring straight forward, head shaking from side-to-side. He looked as though he himself didn’t want to see the damage. “I couldn’t find the time. Ventress is a capable competitor.”

Cody tried not to imagine what Obi-Wan’s words implied, but his mind ran out of control against his will.

Was he trapped somewhere? Hiding for hours with no food or water? Barely able to stand but still fighting tooth and nail?

The thought of it made Cody sick to his stomach.

“We might need Skull afterall, Obi-Wan. This is– it’s bad.”

“...bad?” Obi-Wan asked, eyebrows raised. He hissed as Cody pressed a gentle finger against the very edge of the red line surrounding the burn.

“It’s infected, not a chance these bacta patches will be able heal this.” Cody glared at the fine print on the outside of the wrapper of one of the patches. They were only meant to treat minor wounds, ones sustained hours before nonetheless.

Obi-Wan had severely underestimated the nature of the wound– the supplies he brought would barely make a dent on a papercut, much less an infected burn wound.

“You don’t think we should at least try them? I would hate to waste his time, Cody. I’m sure Skull has more pressing–” Obi-Wan tried to resist, his dirt and blood covered hand coming back to try and cover the wound once again. Cody grabbed it before he could make contact with his exposed skin.

“No!” Obi-Wan looked momentarily alarmed, but quickly shut his mouth and put his arm back behind him where it had been before. “Listen– I have baseline medical training, but this– this is not good. This is why we have Skull anyway.”

Obi-Wan brought his other hand to rub over his beard and let out a shaky breath. He sat up a little straighter. “We’ll go to the medbay then.” He announced. Cody shot him a look of warning.

“Seriously? Not in a million rotations would I let you get up right now.” Cody stood from the bed and reached for his comlink where it sat on the table next to his bed.

Growling under his breath, he messaged Skull with the bad news.

Lightsaber wound. Infected. Surface wound.

He paused before adding the last part and cursed under his breath.

My quarters.

Skull was going to have a field day with that.

Cody stepped back into Obi-Wan’s view and assessed the rest of his appearance searching for other undisclosed wounds or scrapes. Other than the slash across his side, he looked relatively unharmed. Sire, a few bruises lined the curve of his jaw and his cheeks, but that was barely anything new. Obi-Wan had a habit of putting himself in harms way regardless of whether it was really necessary or not.

“Let’s at least get the tunic off of you.” Cody said gently and curled a hand under Obi-Wan’s jaw to try and force a moment of eye-contact. Obi-Wan looked at him with something like irritation on his face, then something softer.

“Would you do the honors, dear?” He asked in just a whisper, eyes wide.

Cody, unable to help himself, pressed a gentle kiss to the edge of his hairline and offered up a muted smile. “Of course.”

He took the knife from his utility belt and cut through the beige layers of clothes so he could easily peel them away from Obi-Wan’s skin, gentle around the lightsaber gash. While he wasn’t nearly as soiled underneath the clothes, his ribs were clearly bruised and his neck appeared to have red marks crawling around the outside of it.

Cody looked away, not wanting to imagine Ventress dangling Obi-Wan by his neck in the air.

“It’s rather cold here, is it not?” Obi-Wan’s voice broke him from his thoughts.

Cody considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think so.” Concern grew in his chest. He reached to feel Obi-Wan’s forehead and was alarmed to find that the skin was scalding to the touch.

Kriff. Infection.

Cody was medically trained enough to know that fevers with infections were never a good sign. For the first time, Cody silently wished Skull would get there faster.

“You have a fever.” Cody said, breaking the momentary silence and brushing the rogue hairs off of Obi-Wan’s suddenly sweaty forehead. While his cheeks had looked gaunt moments before, now his face was stained red with warmth. He trembled even more, gooseflesh coating the skin of his chest.

Cody opened his mouth to offer his reassurance, and maybe a blanket, when there was a knock at the door.

Thank force.

He stood and strode to the door in a few short steps before pressing the button to open the door.

Skull stood there, arms full with both Obi-Wan’s personal medical kit and another large black bag presumably filled with additional medical supplies. He didn’t look quite as panicked as Cody thought he should, but then again, medical trauma was his everyday.

“Looks like shirts are optional in here. Noted.” Skull said, eyebrows raised as he walked into the small quarters. He looked between Obi-Wan and Cody.

Cody glanced down at his own chest and muttered a curse. Of course he was shirtless. Again. So much for napping shirtless anymore.

Cody didn’t have a chance to muster up his own snarky remark before Skull brushed by him and toward Obi-Wan’s shaking form still sitting on the bed. Cody followed him, annoyance fading immediately as he noticed the water collecting in the corners of Obi-Wan’s eyes.

He looked overwhelmed all of the sudden, eyes flickering past Skull and landing on Cody’s own.

Cody wished he could scoop him up, hold him tightly in his arms for just a few precious minutes.

“Sir, how long ago did this happen?” Skull asked mechanically, freshly sanitized hands pressing around the outside of the wound making Obi-Wan jump and suck in a deep breath.

“Erm–” Obi-Wan swallowed, “Perhaps two days? Three?” Cody could tell the feverish haze was setting in; Obi-Wan was not one to confuse his timelines.

Skull looked concerned at the time frame, eyeing the wound more closely. He didn’t look satisfied when he sat back on his heels from where he knelt on the durasteel floor. He motioned to Cody to step aside, away from Obi-Wan.

“When did the fever start?” Skull asked expectantly. “I’m assuming he’s been here for more than a few minutes?

Cody sighed. “Since he came here, I don’t know– twenty minutes ago? And he’s sick of the medbay– I don’t think he realized how bad it is.”

Skull rubbed an irritated hand across his face. “You know, Cody, if he’ll listen to you, maybe you can convince him to come to me next time.” Cody tried not to look sheepish, even pulling his lips into a hard line.

“I can’t make Ob– the General listen to me.” Cody corrected himself quickly.

“Banthashit. That’s the only reason I’m actually here and he hasn’t already dragged his lifeless body to the medbay instead. Just own it Commander; the General is wrapped around your finger.” If punching a medic in the face wasn’t likely a decommissionable offense, Cody would have already done it.

“Skull I swear to– I do not. It’s not like that–”

“I’ve seen what I’ve seen, Cody. Your insistence is meaningless.” Skull said, the shook his head once. “Back on topic– bacta bandages probably won’t fully heal that monstrosity, but I think they can hold him over until we can convince him of submersion tomorrow. That– and shitload of antibiotics.”

The insurmountable anger Skull had incited in him just a couple of minutes before dissipated.

Submersion.

Cody knew Obi-Wan hated it. Cody had only endured it himself once before, and he had been equally as disenchanted with it, and that was without the added roadblock of claustrophobia.

“Are you sure? Full submersion?” Cody asked, looking nervously toward Obi-Wan who had since closed his eyes.

“It’s an infected lightsaber wound, not a kriffing scrape Cody.” Skull reminded him, and stepped back towards the bunk.

Cody watched silently, sitting beside Obi-Wan’s head in a metal chair, as Skull coaxed Obi-Wan to lie down on his side so the wound was fully exposed. The medic made quick work with a set of heavy, white bandages which were clearly more fit for the job than the tiny bacta patches Obi-Wan had brought from the medbay.

Skull took a mixed painkiller-antibiotic hypo and gently pressed it into Obi-Wan’s neck before he began to slather on a generous layer of full-strength bacta gel, the kind that was only used when things were serious. Though the painkillers clearly took the edge off, Cody still cringed at the occasional tiny moans that escaped past Obi-Wan’s stony, rigid exterior.

“Kriff.” Cody heard Obi-Wan hiss as Skull took a long strip of high-grade gauze and pressed down across the length of the wound.

“Sorry, General. I know it stings; hold tight.”

Obi-Wan audibly cursed again when Skull pressed a long strip of adhesive bandage over the gauze. “That should do it for now.” Skull said, leaning back again helping Obi-Wan to roll onto his back, a more comfortable position.

Cody noted the minor relief painted across Obi-Wan’s features. Whatever cocktail of drugs Skull had given him clearly worked, and his forehead no longer was coated in a layer of sweat. Without the large, gaping burn wound out in the open, Obi-Wan looked less like a walking corpse, and more like a human punching bag. Regardless, it was an improvement.

“I’ve got two more doses of painkillers from your kit.” Skull said as he rummaged through the case he had brought with him. “Have Cody give you one every four hours, and I’ll send a med transport to come get you tomorrow morning.”

Obi-Wan blinked twice and furrowed his brow. “Oh that certainly won’t be necessary. Could you leave a few bandages behind? I’m sure I can change them myself.”

Skull raised his eyebrows again and turned to Cody with a smug, knowing smile. “Cody?” He asked, amusement lacing his tone.

Kriffing Skull.

Cody drew both of his hands over his face and suppressed a groan.

“General– Skull is right. You aren’t fit to walk, and I don’t think bacta gel is going to cut it.” Obi-Wan shook his head and sighed.

“If you insist, Cody.” He answered politely.

And no, Cody hadn’t insisted.

Skull’s shit-eating grin was almost too much for Cody to handle.

“Well Skull, looks like your job here is done.” Cody said loudly and grabbed his closed medical bags from the floor as he headed towards the door. After exchanging his last words with Obi-Wan, Skull followed him and took the bags from his hands.

“So star-crossed lovers it looks like? A match made in heaven? The only type of relationship where The Obi-Wan Kenobi will listen to you over a medical professional. I told you, wrapped around your finger.” Skull said as Cody nearly punched the button to open the door of his quarters.

“Oh fuck off.” Cody said, rolling his eyes, but his cheeks were still burning. “Whatever is going on here is between me and the General.” He finished as Skull stepped into the hallway.

“Oh I’m sure there are plenty of things going on between you and the General.” Skull said with a wink. “See you tomorrow, Cody.”

Fucking kriff.

Cody was never going to live it down, was he?

He let out his exasperation in the form of punching the door just as it closed, which though painful, was enough to make him feel marginally better.

Collecting his thoughts, Cody headed back to the bunk where Obi-Wan still laid on his back, eyes half-shut, and bloody hand resting over his chest. Cody leaned over him and he perked up a little offering a hint of a grin as his eyes blinked open.

“You know, maybe we should just accept that Skull knows; make it official.” Obi-Wan murmured.

“What? And admit defeat? Ruin my reputation?” Cody was mildly offended at the suggestion, but he still ran a gentle hand through the greasy, unwashed hair on top of Obi-Wan’s head.

“He already knows, dear.” Obi-Wan said with a mild chuckle that shook his chest, then a small hiss of pain.

“That doesn’t mean I need to admit it to him.” Cody retorted, and stood to find some sort of cloth to clean Obi-Wan’s bloody, dirt-covered fingers. Obi-Wan just snorted.

“Always so stubborn, Commander.” He whispered as Cody gently wiped his hands and then gently rubbed in some lotion he kept in the drawer of the table by his bed. "Thank you for calling Skull- I'm not entirely sure what I was thinking."

"Always so stubborn, Obi-Wan." He repeated, smiling gently, "I'm just happy you're here now, with me."

They sat in silence, Cody still massaging the callouses on Obi-Wan’s hand and admiring the gentle curve of his jaw. He pressed a kiss to the middle of Obi-Wan’s chest.

Perhaps it didn’t really matter what Skull thought after all.

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rav-rabies · 7 months

Text

Hi Fi Rush Headcanons/ideas: pt 1 Heroes

got a few ideas bouncing around mostly just backstory stuff I wanted to write down to clean up my head and thought I'd share.

Pt 2

Possible trigger warnings: discussions of family fights, age gap relationships

Chai

Sun sign: Cancer, Moon: Sagittarius, Ascending: Sagittarius

Is smarter than he lets on

Grew up in a small town and got himself into trouble because there wasn't much else to do.

Never knew his father. He left home to pursue his dream of being a Rockstar and disappeared.

Chai created an idealized version of his father. Wants

Majored in Business as his mother wished but negotiated to study Music Theory as a minor. Got mostly A's and a few B's.

Quit school after being discouraged by an asshole professor and because he wanted to live his own life on his terms.

Couldn't find work after dropping out because ableism and struggled on disability payments.

Peppermint

Sun: Sagittarius, Moon: Capricorn, Ascending: Virgo

Was an invitro baby and was conceived around the same time as Kale.

Roxanne and her husband had been separated for three years when there was an accident at the treatment center Peppermint's zygote was stored in. Roxanne was relived one of her zygotes survived and she and her estranged husband agreed to bring the child to term.

Her father died when she was barely a year old so she never got to know him.

Has a small tattoo of two intertwined violets on her back to represent Sapphic love.

More interested in environmental science and politics then robotics but was supported by Roxanne as both fields a line with her worldview.

Is planning on returning to school soon after her mother gets everything back on track at Vandelay.

Macaron

Sun: Libra, Moon: Taurus, Ascending: Pisces

Spent his vacation reconnecting with his old friends outside of Vandelay.

He was that kid who took things apart. His parents were great though and supported his interest. Just they made sure to redirect his curiosity towards lest destructive

First learned about Roxanne when he was finishing collage and wanted to become a part of something bigger. He was drawn to her ideas and drive.

Korsica

Sun: Virgo, Moon: Scorpio, Ascending: Aries

Had not been working at Vandelay long before Chai came along.

Had a tentative "friendship" with Zanzo due to both being bottom of the social hierarchy.

Has zero interest in Chai and Peppermint as romantic partners. Though that can change for peppermint. Her age is the only hurtle really. (NOTE: I do love this ship and have no problems with age gaps in shipping or sometimes irl. But, as someone in their thirties, I feel comfortable saying that we're not as inclined to date younger unless we're kind of immature like Zanzo or said 20 something is really chill.)

CNMN

CNMN doesn't need headcanons from me he's perfect as is.

Roxanne Vandelay (Heads up she gets Rose Quartzed a little)

Sun: Capricorn, Moon: Sagittarius, Ascending: Aquarius

She values altruism above all. She believes the purpose of creation in both science and the arts is to better the world.

Also values hard work and sacrifice, not to insane levels but again to the point she lacks some sympathy for those

Has a hard time accepting others as driven as her. She isn't actively mean but she's not very understanding of those with different values.

She and her husband both wanted to create a better world and fell in love while working for it. After Kale was born Her husband became devoted to his son. She believed both still/would support her vision and spent as much time with her family as she could and hoped love would be enough.

It wasn't. Overtime her son grew to resent his distant but caring mother and her husband grew sad and frustrated.

Arguments started and the rift got too big for anyone to ignore. She left.

After her husbands death Roxanne found herself a CEO of a rapidly growing company and a single mother to an unruly teen who just made a strange new friend.

#hi fi rush #chai hi fi rush #roxanne vandelay #peppermint hi fi rush #korsica hi fi rush #macaron hi fi rush #headcanon

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imreallyloveleee · 11 months

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for @bughead-bones and @stonerbughead who asked about my s5 murder mystery au: i plotted like 90% of this story out a year or two ago. who knows if i'll ever actually write it all, but if i do, it's going to switch POVs between betty, jughead & veronica. i've never written veronica's pov before, so that's been a little challenging. here's a snippet from jug's pov!

“Jess, have you seen my tie?”

“Nope.”

Jughead emerges from the bathroom to find her sprawled out across the motel room bed, tapping away at her phone. He presses two fingers to his temple, willing away the headache just barely beginning to throb. “Okay, well could you help me look for it? We’re going to be late.”

“I don’t think you have to wear a tie at a funeral.” Jessica slinks off of the bed anyway, leaning halfway over the chipped tv stand to peer behind it. He resists the urge to redirect her towards a more plausible spot, like the pile of clothes she’s left pooled by the foot of the bed.

“I want to,” he replies tightly. He lifts her leather jacket off the seat of the desk chair — bingo. “Help me tie this?”

She complies, kissing his cheek as she loops the tie around his neck. “You seem really antsy about this.” She tightens the knot at the base of his throat and then tugs on the end a little, teasing, as she steps back.

“I’m about to give a eulogy for my best childhood friend.”

“Yeah, your best friend who stole your girlfriend.” Jessica raises one eyebrow before laying back on the bed again, toying idly with the end of her long, black braid.

Sometimes he wishes he’d never told her about that. If Betty’s at the funeral today, and Jessica figures out who she is, god only knows what she’ll say.

God only knows what he’ll say. It’s been a little over a year since they — he? she? does it matter? — ended whatever you’d call the semi-regular communication they’d carried on with ever since the breakup. For six years they’d texted back and forth: book recommendations, professional accomplishments, the occasional meme that made them think of one another.

None of it came close to scratching the surface of their former relationship. But he misses it. He still finds himself reaching for his phone when he reads an article or a line in a novel that he thinks she’d like. Every time, he forces himself to set it aside. Her silence spoke for her, loud and clear: she doesn’t want to hear from him.

Jughead turns back towards the bathroom mirror, pretending to fiddle with his hair. “That was seven years ago.”

And I’m over it. And I’ve forgiven him. All the words Jughead knows he should say — the words that he thinks, most days, are true — congeal like putty in his mouth, unable to emerge fully formed.

“And now he’s dead,” he adds, unnecessarily.

It still feels unreal, conceptually speaking: Archie is dead. Sure, he may have had some brushes with death — Jughead’s had more than a few of his own — but Archie Andrews wasn’t the kind of person who would just die. He half expects that when he walks into the church this afternoon, Archie will be standing right there, gathered with all their old friends and acquaintances, laughing at what a gullible sucker Jughead’s become in his not-yet-old age.

But the article is still there loaded on his phone, same as it was one week ago when JB had texted him the link: LOCAL ACTIVIST FOUND DEAD. Friends of Archie Andrews, 25, say they have questions.

The piece went on to quote names Jughead used to encounter on a daily basis: Local businesswoman Toni Topaz. Riverdale Sheriff Tom Keller. Town coroner Dr. Curdle Jr. It read almost like something he himself had penned as a macabre writing exercise, filling in the blanks of a murder mystery plot with the people who had once formed the landscape of his own life.

#bughead #bughead fic #my fic #fic #riverdale #riverdale fic

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carolmunson · 2 years

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bad blood (part two) (stella's version)

(ROCKSTAR!EDDIE X ACTRESS!READER) (@ROLLERGIRLWORLD ’S BOXER!STEVE AND LIBRARIAN!READER CROSSOVER) (18+) READ FROM LIBRARIAN!READER’S PERSPECTIVE HERE (PT. 1) and HERE (PT. 2)

WARNINGS AND SUCH FOR PARTS ONE AND TWO: SMUT IMPLICATIONS/ALMOST SMUT, FINGERING/TEASING, NAME CALLING, DRUG MENTION, SWEARING, BLOOD MENTION, INTENSE TOXIC BEHAVIOR FROM A ONE STEVE HARRINGTON, ANGST, CRYING, SOME KISSING, NOT REALLY ‘IGNORING’ PER SE – BUT FEELING IGNORED BY PARTNER, MENTIONS OF VEINS, ANGST ON ANGST, ADDICTION MENTION, DRUG USE MENTION, MENTIONS OF CHEATING AND BAD BEHAVIOR, FIGHTING, SWEARING, MILD VIOLENCE, BLOOD MENTION

“Wh-what?” you ask, your body is hot and for the first time in your whole life, you wish nobody would look at you while you stand there in the ring. Tears fill your eyes, blurring your vision, but you blink them away in a flinch as Steve throws the mitts angrily to the ground. “Fuck this!” he roars, jumping out of the ring stomping angrily on the concrete floor – but you’re not done here. Anger starts bubbling in your chest at the sight of his angry face, at Libby scurrying away from him.

“No, what the hell are you talking about, Harrington?” you shout, hopping down from the ring yourself and stomping after him. You both shared the same posture – angry and huffing, like two lions ready to fight over a lone, unclaimed carcass.

“I’m talking about your fuckin’ boyfriend puttin’ his hands all over my girl."

Before you can think about it, Eddie is next to you his hands up and wild to redirect the conversation, "No —hey! Hey, that is not what happened.”

You step slightly ahead, seeing Steve’s face. He looks menacing, terrifying, like at any minute he’ll slip and take Eddie out. Libby is lingering close by, her shocked expression matching your own.

“No? Then tell me how it fuckin’ happened, Munson,” you wince at Steve’s tone, it feels like he’s yelling at all of you – trying to find out who took the last cookies from the jar. Eddie shrinks at the demand and you feel his hand touch yours – but the feeling makes you sick. ‘Your fuckin’ boyfriend puttin’ his hands all over my girl.’ So that was why? But that’s impossible. When could that have even happened?

"I—baby, listen, I—” his voice is desperate and pleading, it sounds too familiar. He turns toward you, shoulders hunched and defeated – a little kid who doesn’t want to tell the truth. His eyes are pouring guilt – the same look he gave you in the living room when he got caught using for the last time. Something in you snaps –

“Tell me what the fuck is going on right now, Ed,” you shrill, your heart felt like it was going to rip out of your chest, your hands balling into fists. You’d never felt more humiliated in your life.

“Okay! Okay, okay, I—I saw Libby at a club back in March,” you can hear him about to break, his voice shaking with his shoulders. His brown eyes can’t meet yours, opting to stare at your collarbones instead, “And – and we – we kissed.”

– we kissed.

You feel the color drain from your face and it feels like someone plunged you into cold water. You aren’t sure how it starts or where it comes from, but the SMACK! cracks along the vaulted ceilings of the gym before you register that your open palm collided with his face – wrapped hand and all. Eddie’s head turns sharply to the right at the impact, pink blooming on his cheek. He shuts his eyes to collect himself – taking a sharp deep breath through his nose. You see his hands twitch before crossing his arms tightly to keep himself contained. “I deserve that,” he mutters quietly. If there is anything true about Eddie, it’s that bitch slapping him is the best way to get him kicked out of a bar – his opponent often leaving with a broken nose. It’s quiet for a moment while your hand drops back down to hip, breaths heaving out of you while you turn your attention to Libby.

“What’d I fuckin’ tell you?” Steve asks with a raised brow, his chest still heaving. You swear you see him smirk when he asks – like this was his plan all along. To see how much he could humiliate you, how embarrassed he could make you feel. How shredded he could get your relationship to make up for the shortcomings in his own.

“Oh, fuck off, Harrington! You’re the reason she was out that night, don’t act like you’re fucking innocent. Drinking herself silly because she said you almost hit her,” Eddie’s voice has a new vigor, he’s angry and hulking – his sweater looking too tight on him. It hits you how close they are, Eddie’s fists twitching by his sides now, the vein in his neck pressing against his skin.

The weight of Eddie’s words sinks in and you whip your head at Steve, ready to pounce on him, “Wait, what? What the f–”

"—no! No, I said I thought he was gonna hit me,” Libby’s voice finally joins the conversation, and of course it’s to defend Steve. Your blood boils, you want to fucking shake her and not even because she kissed your boyfriend – you’re so tired of watching her come to Steve’s defense.

Eddie takes the words right out of your mouth, "That’s not any fuckin’ better!”

“Hey! Don’t swear at my fucking girlfriend, dick!” You jump at Steve’s roar, still vibrating with rage at all of this happening when you were supposed to be training. Tim was definitely going to recast you now.

“Oh, that’s right. You’re the only one allowed to treat her like shit,” Eddie doesn’t hold back, reaching out and shoving Steve hard in the shoulder with one hand, sending him stumbling backwards. It would be hot if it was any other day, but this wasn’t the time and definitely not the person to mess with – a certified killing machine.

“Ed! Enough,” you call out, but Steve’s dead eyes ignite with rage and he lunges forward. The boys are nose to nose, huffing and snarling at each other like wolves. Libby pitifully reaches for him, grabbing at his arm but it’s Big getting between them that gets them to slightly separate. You’re mortified, you can’t imagine being more embarrassed than you are right now. This wasn’t supposed to go this way.

“Whoa, whoa, guys – how ‘bout we all take a breath?” Big’s voice would normally cool Eddie out, but he’s foaming at the mouth, reaching over Big’s massive shoulder to get another lick at Steve. "Fuck you, Harrington! All you ever do is fuck shit up!” Eddie yells, his voice sounds foreign, void of the normal light cadence he normally has – even when he was high. This was his withdrawal yell, his ‘I need to use now’ gruffness. Eddie was more than angry, he was scared, he was enraged. You’re stuck, unable to move – frozen from the embarrassment, the realization that the man you’re supposed to marry kissed someone you considered a friend. From your future husband raising his hands to a man who could kill him with a curated punch to the throat, from all the abuse Steve hurled at you and kept hurling at you. From Libby standing there, just as equally horrified and embarrassed as you are.

"—oh, I’ve been dying to fuck your shit up, Munson—”

Big is waltzing with them, keeping his arms up to separate their bodies while they keep trying to find each other. You almost want to shove Big out of the way so you can watch them fight – maybe it would be cathartic to see some blood on the floor.

“—your own girlfriend is terrified of you, and for good fucking reason. You’re a loose fucking cannon, Harrington, one day away from snapping—” Oh Ed, just shut up, you think to yourself. You don’t want to take him back to the hotel in an ambulance. Steve’s gruff voice shakes you when it calls over Big’s shoulder.

“—how those veins holdin’ up, Munson? Huh? You got any left, or are they all shot to death?” Your heart shatters when you see Eddie falter at the words – that wasn’t fair. He was really trying, and recovery was kicking his ass.

“One day away from snapping? How ‘bout one bag of smack away from OD-ing.” ‘Just took two, just took two.’ ‘I’m not gonna use that shit again, baby.’

‘Stell you gotta call the hospital, he’s not wakin’ up.’ ‘Tour was gettin’ hard, baby – please don’t leave, don’t leave me.’

Flashes of Eddie’s slumped over body on the couch, outside of the club, covered in vomit on the bathroom floor play through your head. You don’t even realize that you’re crying until Simone’s smooth voice calls over the group, her trench swishing with her. She tosses her braids over her shoulder and claps her hands together, a bright smile shining against her coffee lipstick stained lips.

“O-kay! Before someone says something they regret, I think we should get some NDAs printed up, make sure this stays between—” “Fuck an NDA. You won’t be able to hide Munson’s fucked up mug when I’m done with 'im.” You want to bite back at him for yelling at Simone but she turns on her heel, calling out, “Tiffany start the car, we’re going to Staples to get some NDA’s printed.” Her boots clicking on the cement while she makes it to the door with Tiffany in toe.

“Steve, s-stop,” you hear Libby choke out, reaching out to touch Steve but he avoids her touch.

“Stop what? Stop telling the truth? Did you wanna keep it a secret forever, honey?” His sneer is painful, you hate the way he looks at her. Eddie looks broken, full of realization of his wrong doings, he’s aching and angry. Libby looks embarrassed under Steve’s gaze, small and meek, afraid of him.

“God, you’re awful,” you say straight to Steve, the words garbled with tears. You see him take in what you said and he briefly casts his eyes down, swallowing before casting his hard eyes back at Eddie.

“St-Stella—” Libby’s voice surprises you, finally being addressed by her for the first time since you got to the gym. You can’t even keep your anger in when you look at her. She had disappeared after that day in September, never calling to check in – your people never able to get in touch with Steve’s people to see how she was doing. You’d wanted to scream with excitement with her when you saw her in that Prada ad – your makeup artist Hailey told you all about it, and how Libby’s ‘annoying fucking boyfriend wouldn’t stop hovering’ while she worked. But no, she’d been too busy kissing your boyfriend at a club and being forgiven by her dumb fucking boxer boyfriend, while you were kept in the dark. “—is this why I never heard from you? E-even when I sent that card to congratulate you after Prada —god, I thought you were my friend, Libby.”

Libby’s eyes stop flowing with tears and she looks shocked to hear about the card, her lips parting and eyebrows furrowing. You watch her turn to Steve, but he ignores her and it starts to make sense where the card might have ended up. You watch Libby wipe at her face and at first you can’t feel sympathy, but you truly ache for her. Stuck next to her brooding boar of a lover who hates you.

“Stella, I’m s-sorry—” she wails out, but Steve cuts her off immediately, his eyes piercing you.

“—oh don’t act like this is a fuckin’ surprise, Rink. Look at 'im, all he knows is how to self destruct,” his stare hurts you, like this is all your fault. You feel like he’s really seeing you – but not the way Eddie sees you. He’s seeing the bad parts – how weak you are, how scared and broken you are, how you want to run away but can’t because of how much you care.

"Shut your fuckin’ mouth, Harrington!” Eddie starts again, his eyes are wild – you’d only seen him like this a handful of times – and it was almost always related to a man getting too anything with you in front of him.

“How 'bout you make me?” You scoff as Steve beckons for him, but you know that it’s not for the best. Steve wants a reaction out of Eddie – he’s been waiting for this all day. You watch as Eddie lunges again, trying to clamor over Big unsuccessfully.

“Ed, please,” you call out, but it’s futile, “Please, enough!”

“Nah, guys come on, cut this shit out. It’s not the time,” Big puts his hand on Steve’s chest to keep him away, clear that he knows his fuse is ready to blow. You gasp when Steve smacks at him, this man who is hulking and bigger than them – who could break them both with one hand. Big lets out a sigh, you can tell he’s desperate for this to be over.

“Whatever,” Steve sounds like the school bully who doesn’t want to get in trouble before a big game. You inwardly smirk while he takes a step back, not so tough after all. You prayed he felt embarrassed. Big finally puts his arms down, testing the waters and looking between both men – still reeling from the back and forth.

“You good?” Big asks.

“I’m good,” Eddie nearly yells his answer and your skin crawls. You hate seeing him like this, doused in anger and frustration – he was always much quicker to act on his impulses when he had too many feelings at once.

When Big clears away from both of them, Libby reaches for her book, Steve immediately follows her and you want to fucking kill him. Get away from her, you think, Let her fucking breathe. Your sight of her is suddenly slightly obstructed by Eddie stepping in front of you, one arm back to keep you a distance away. He tosses his glance back at you, a worried look on his face – almost telepathically you understand that he means ‘Stay behind me.’ You’re still angry at him, but your heart swells.

Big’s voice is soft and calm, calling over from the ring, “Alright, so how 'bout we all just calm down and talk about this like—”

Steve’s voice booms over Big’s and he takes a step toward you, finger jutting out to point straight at your chest, “—you know everything was fuckin’ fine until she started hangin’ out with you.”

Eddie immediately tenses, his protective hand coming back to his side, an evil snicker escaping his chest. You know that sound, it’s when he can’t contain it anymore, "Oh, I know that’s a fuckin’ lie. You don’t have a great track record, Steve. People talk.”

“You wanna talk about reputation, Munson—”

“—oh what, more junkie comments? Find something new Steve—”

“—you know, what’s got you so riled up, Munson? You think she’s gonna leave you?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Eddie scoffs, head shaking. He is scared you’re gonna leave him, and Steve knows it. He knew it back in the kitchen at his Malibu condo last September, he knew it when Eddie called him up at the end of January to get back in the ring. He knew it when Eddie broke down in the locker room when your lawyer answered your phone and told him they’d send a restraining order if he called again.

“Think she wants a real man instead?” Your eyes snap up at Steve when he says it, you know it hits Eddie where it hurts. The question he’s always asked himself since he met you, that you’d want to be with someone who was nothing like him. Clean cut, all American, football captain, basketball player types that match your sweet as pie persona. You watch Eddie follow Steve’s gaze as it falls on you. He looks at you salaciously, mouth and lips wet, scanning you slowly from your feet to your face. His sneer changes into the same wolfish grin he gave you against the counter, head cocking to the side.

His voice comes out husky while he looks at you, “You liked havin’ a real man’s hands on you?” His gaze drops from your eyes to your waist and you feel dirty under it. Remembering the feeling of his scratchy taped hands on you, too rough, too mechanical. Eddie sees your face falter, your cheeks get red – and not in a way that shows you’re enjoying it. Steve’s making you uncomfortable – so now Eddie had to make him uncomfortable. You blink and the wind of Eddie’s form rushing toward Steve hits you, watching horrified as Eddie’s fist collides hard with Steve’s jaw, another crack resounding through the gym for spectators to hear. All the pent up rage of the day, the way Steve touched you, the way Steve made you feel in front of him, all let out in that one hook to the face.

“Jesus Christ!” the words come out of you, but your voice feels detached. You want to run to Eddie and pull him away, but you step backward at the sight of blood pooling behind Steve’s lips. You watch his hair flop forward while he lets out a glob of blood, spraying the rest out in spit – staining the concrete floor.

“Stop, stop, stop! Please, just stop!” Libby wails, getting between the both of them, knowing that Steve won’t put her hands on her. Something has visibly changed in Steve and now you’re really afraid. If drugs didn’t kill your fiance, Steve Harrington certainly would. Big nearly shoves Libby out of the way, arms circling around a furious Eddie while he drags him towards the door, “DON’T YOU EVER TALK TO MY GIRL LIKE THAT AGAIN! I’LL FUCKIN’ END YOU HARRINGTON. I’LL RUIN YOUR FUCKIN’ LIFE.” “Okay, okay, Munson – let’s cool off, let’s cool down. You gotta get outta here man, let’s go,” Big soothes, pulling him out the door. Mikey follows silently, grabbing his smokes and jacket from the other side of the ring and bringing it outside. You can still hear Eddie yelling from outside, the slam of the Jeep door, the churning hum of the Judas Priest album – and finally the SCREECH of the wheels as he peels out of the parking lot.

Your eyes scan the gym floor.

You’re alone here, now – and you have no fight left.

A defeated sob pours out of you while you walk around Libby and Steve – feeling the hum of his anger while you do – and push open the locker room door. You collapse on the bench across from your locker and the stuffy air makes it hard to breathe. You undo the tapes with shaking hands, whimpering and trembling – so upset at him, but wishing Eddie would come through the door and make it better.

But did it even matter? Would he go and console Libby first? You felt bile sit in the base of your throat at the thought. Were you ever first to begin with?

“Let go of me!” you hear echo through the gym, under the locker room door. You have half a mind to get up and intervene, but your body feels like it’s three thousand pounds. You’re exhausted and blubbering, the deep clawfoot tub of the hotel’s penthouse suite is the only thing you have to look forward to.

You achingly get up and stand in front of your locker, clicking it open. The scent of your perfume hits you and you remember that Eddie has your travel bottle in his jacket pocket. You feel sick at the thought of him and his now battered knuckles – speeding home on icy roads. Impulsive, angry – Dangerous. You shrug on your coat and switch out your sneakers for you boots, not bothering to change clothes. Who cares? Who was gonna see you anyway? You pull out your gym bag and your purse, tossing them on the bench and collapsing next to them.

The door opens slowly, Big stepping in – it’s clear he’s trying to be quiet but he’s so big that even his soft steps sound like stomps.

“Figured y’might need a ride home,” he said, his voice low and apologetic, “Don’t think you’d wanna go with those two out there.”

You laugh a little through your cry, wiping at your face. Big reaches into his back pocket and passes you a hankie, sliding next to you on the bench. It’s clean and pressed, light blue with gold stitching, embroidered with initials you don’t recognize.

“It was my grandma’s,” he said, “I never use it, just like to keep her with me. She’d come down and whack me with her purse if I didn’t offer it to ya.”

The fabric is delicate against your face, a contrast to the muffled yelling from the gym ringing in your ears. Big’s arm reaches around you, falling heavily around your back, his hand collapsing on your other shoulder.

“If it’s any consolation, I think ya did pretty good today,” he said with a smile, “I mean we don’t normally slap in boxing but if that had been a cross - whew! -Ed woulda been on the ground.”

You chuckle again, wiping a tear away from your face, “I didn’t mean to hit him – I just–I’d never do that. I think – I don’t know – he didn’t deserve that.”

“Eh,” Big nodded his head to the side, “I think every man deserves a good slap in the face once in a while. Think Munson had that comin’.”

“I still feel bad,” you sniffed.

“That’s okay,” Big said, clapping your shoulder and standing up, offering his hand, “You shouldn’t, but it’s okay that you do. Let’s get you out of here.”

You take Big’s hand and turn to grab your bags but he stops you, throwing them over his shoulder instead. ‘If she wouldn’t whack me over the handkerchief, she’d whack me over not carrying a woman’s bags.’ You let him guide you out of the locker room, seeing Steve and Libby at each other, both of their faces contorted with rage.

You quickly walk past them, wanting nothing more than to just get the fuck out of this gym so you never had to see Steve Harrington again.

“Wait! Stella, please, wait –”

You can hear her trying to chase after you, your throat tightening. What else could she possibly have to say to you? That she was sorry? Sorry that she kissed the man who called you his wife since your second date? Kissed the person who knew all of your favorite songs and put them on a mixtape as your first ‘month-a-versary’ gift? Does he know her favorite songs? You bet she doesn’t know his favorite songs.

“Stella, please –”

Enough. You’d had enough. Enough of this day, enough of her crying, enough of her asshole fucking boyfriend. You knew you had to give her the only advice you had left in your arsenal. The lump in your throat grows while you stare down the slope of your nose at her.

“You should leave him Libby,” you say matter of factly. You look at Steve, brutish and bloody, staring back at you, “While you still can.”

They both look equally hurt by what you say and it feels good to watch them hurt. You turn on your heel and walk toward Big, through the door he held open for you. You see a flash out of the corner of your eye and immediately freeze, used to Eddie’s shielding arm around you – opening up his jacket to block the cameras from capturing you. His venom spitting at them to fuck off and leave you alone. Big does his best, getting his body between you and the paparazzi up until you’re in the passenger’s seat of his truck with the door shut, safe behind the tinted windows. He pulls out of the lot quickly, the photographers scattering like roaches back to their cars to see if they can track you, or Steve, or Libby on the road. You heave out a shuddered sigh while Big clicks on the radio, a song softly pouring out of the speakers.

“I’m tellin’ ya baby, you will never find another girl – In this heart of mine.Look into my eyes, can’t you see they’re open wide? Would I lie to you baby, would I lie to you?”

Tears well in your eyes while the chart topper plays. How fucking fitting.

“Don’t you know it’s true, girl, there’s no one else but you. Would I lie to you, baby? Would I lie to you?”

“Maybe the radio isn’t on our side today,” Big says, clicking it off. You sniffle, looking out the window. Big steals a glance at you through the rear view mirror.

“I know Munson messed up, Stell,” his voice was warm, “But I’ve never met a man so crazy about his woman. He really give’s Harrington a run for his money.”

You blush, shaking your head. He smiles at you while you sniff again, holding the hanky to your nose.

“When he first came in, boy was he hopeless. He was just training with just me for a while, think it was right after he got your name tattooed on his hip. I said, ‘Boy, are you stupid? You know you can’t go around getting a woman’s name inked on you.’ He looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘You haven’t met my girl, Big. You’d get her name tattooed on you too.’ He was all starry eyed, talking about how he was gettin’ better for you,” Big’s story made your head fuzzy, your lower lip wobbling.

“He’d talk about you at every session when I could see him, sometimes he’d have to just have to train with whoever, if I was on the road with Steve – and my guys would call me and be like ‘Does Munson do anything but play music and hang out with his wife?’ Couldn’t imagine the shock when I told ‘em you weren’t even married yet. We were on the road for a while, sort of fell out of touch, but when I saw him again at the gym – just workin’ out, not boxin’ – he ran up to me, lookin’ so healthy, lookin’ good. He told me he proposed and you said yes, told me every little detail, started cryin’ on the ropes of the ring replayin’ it in his head.”

He cried all night, when you said yes. Cried like a baby. ‘Told you, Rink. Gonna be my wife one day, now you’re gonna b-be my w-wife. I’m gonna – gonna fuckin’ marry you.’

“Didn’t see him for a while, caught some photos of him when he was down at a bar in Malibu when he said he’d be trainin’ – lookin’ a little rough around the edges. But he still looked like Munson, y’know? In September last year, that day you came with him, I figured we’d get Steve in the ring with him since we wanted to start exploring Steve startin’ to train, and we knew he had a good rapport with Libby – not y’know, kissin’ at the club good – but they had the whole book thing.”

You winced at the reference to their kiss, their book exchange in Malibu now seemed less innocent. Did he even care that you bought him a custom bound Lord of the Rings series? With all of his friends incorporated in illustrations? Would he have liked the gift better if Libby bought it for him? Not that she could afford it without Steve, you thought bitterly. You instantly regretted it, shaking it out of your head.

Big continued, “And I know somethin’ must’ve happened that day because I didn’t hear from him again until the end of January, almost a year ago. He was a bigger mess than the first time I met him, too skinny. He got to the gym in shambles, thought he lost you for good. He kept sayin’, ‘I gotta cut this shit out, Big. I need to be a better man. Need to show her I can be a father, I can be a husband.’ He was with us real consistent until around March – and I uh, I can guess why he started goin’ to different gyms after that.”

“But if anything’s true about his, I don’t know what to call it – his journey? It’s that he’s been head over heels for you for all of it,” Big pulled into the lot of the hotel, putting the car in park to get your door open and grab your bags. Once you were settled in the lobby, he gave you a firm and tight bear hug – the kind that reminded you of your dad.

“If you need anything at all,” he said, “Anything. You call me.”

You watch him leave through tear filled eyes, the headlights of his truck shining like north stars while he pulls around the entryway and back out onto the road. You push through the people waiting in line at the concierge to get to the elevators, furiously clicking the door closed button once you stepped inside.

The elevator opened to the hotel suite living room, your body ached even though it had been hours since you last threw a punch. Eddie was sitting with his legs spread, leaned back on the far side of the couch by the window. His hair was a mess, cheeks tear stained with his left cheek still pink from your slap, he didn’t even take off his coat. His box of cigarettes laid empty on the coffee table.

“I didn’t know you’d be here, thought I’d find you at–” “At the bar?” he asked, his head snapping towards you, “D’you think that’s how I deal with everything?”

He knew he didn’t have the right to be snippy with you right now, but his heart was racing. This was it, you were gonna leave him. There wasn��t any coming back from this – over something so meaningless, a kiss with a sad shy girl when he was so drunk he saw two of her the whole time.

“I don’t know what you want me to say to you besides sorry, Stell,” he said, shifting to lean his elbows onto his knees, “I can’t go back and undo it.”

“I know,” you whispered over the lump in your throat while hanging your coat up in the entryway closet. You kicked your boots off and dropped the gym bag next to them. Your socked feet padded softly into the living room, darkened outside of the low golden glow of the lamp on the side table next to the couch on Eddie’s side. The butts of all his cigarettes from chain smoking sat in the ashtray, some still smoking with low embers next to him. Toronto’s skyline glittered in the night, twinkling into the floor to ceiling windows.

After Big’s story, you wanted to curl up next to him on the couch and kiss him. To tell him that it didn’t matter, that it was all okay. You’ll be there for him. But you needed to be stronger than that, even though you were so tired of being the strong one.

“Maybe,” you croak out, his eyes meet yours when the word comes out, “Maybe we got back together too soon.”

“Baby…” he started, his soft coo already melting your heart. He stands up, taking his jacket off while walking towards you, tossing the leather on the couch before putting your face in his big warm hands.

“Don’t say that,” he said with pleading shining eyes, “We’re doin’ so good, aren’t we?”

You so desperately want to believe him. You were doing good, he moved back into the new Hollywood house at the end of November when he hit his eight month marker. He made you breakfast in the mornings when you both had off, went on drives along the beach – he made a big show of taking you back to the planetarium where you had your third date, sharing McDonald’s fries in his car in the parking lot. He was so alive in a way he hadn’t been since the last time he got better. (And of course he was fucking you on every surface of that house you could comfortably fit on.) You look at him and put your hands over his hands, feeling the metal on his fingers and the swell of his knuckles on his left hand. Your eyes fall to his lips, wet and bitten red from stress – Libby kissed those lips. He let her. Your throat tightens again and you pull your face out of his hold, dropping your hands to your sides.

“I think we should spend some more time apart,” your voice stiffened while you hold back another cry. You turn away from him, heading into the bathroom, leaving the door open. You unfurl one of the face cloths folded expertly on the double sink counter and run it under the cold water. Once it hits your face, so does the full context of the day, the coolness reaching the inside of your chest. Maybe it was like the seven stages of grief, all of this.

“But I — I,” he started, his voice high and cracking, “Baby, I’ve been doing the work. I’m goin’ to meetings, I’m not partying. I’m still talking to a shrink twice a week. I’m doing this all to stay on track so we can – so we can do this for real.”

“For now,” you shake your head while he pleads behind you, following you to the bathroom, “Until that gets boring for you.”

“Do you really think that little of me?” Eddie shrinks at your cutting words, his jaw tightening while his lower lip began to lightly tremble.

“Am I supposed to think bigger of you, after today?” you bite back, your tone sounds like Steve’s and your shoulders sulk — your voice barely softening, “We’ll be apart anyway. I’m back to work after the new year, and you leave for tour in two weeks — just try not to fuck Veronica in Colorado this time, since you’re on thin ice.”

“I’m not gonna fuck Nic in Colorado, Stell. Jesus,” he says quietly, leaning on his shoulder in the doorframe. He knows that tone of your voice, biting and acerbic. He tried to stack up the walls in his chest to keep your voice from getting too deep into him.

“Oh, did you plan to fuck her in another state?” you laugh bitterly. Veronica ‘Nic’ Farragamo was Eddie and Gareth’s favorite groupie, there was even a song about her.

“I’m not gonna fuck Nic at all,” he sighs, “I’m not going on tour.”

You toss him a look through the mirror, “What’re you talking about?”

“I called Bobby when I got here,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I dropped out, they’re gonna have someone fill in for me. I’m just gonna do the bigger shows in California and New York.”

“Why would you do that?” you spat, “You know how much you’re losing out on?”

“I’m not losing out on anything,” he pushed off the wall, taking a step toward you, “I want to be there for you. I wanna make this work.”

“That’s bullshit,” you say under your breath.

“That’s bullshit? I’m telling you I’m not ready to go back on tour, Stella,” he says quietly, looking at the marble counter and tracing the lines of the gold filigree.

“You’re just doing another grand gesture so you look good,” you see yourself in the mirror while you speak to him, your face swollen from crying. His posture stiffens, offense coloring his face and bracing his body.

“Do you hear yourself?” his face hardens, his forehead dropping towards you while he talks, “What the fuck, Stell?”

“‘Let me quit tour to show her what a loving fiancé I am, and everyone will report it on the tabloids — he’s so devoted!’” you mocked, “So I look like a bitch. Do you know how many people talked about how unsupportive and selfish I was when I left? What’s another year of being Eddie Munson’s buzzkill ex-fiance?”

“Do you wanna know why I really dropped out, Rink?” he asked, his breath picking up.

“Enlighten me, Ed,” you raise your eyebrows, crossing your arms while still talking to him in the reflection of the mirror, “Tell me how it’s all my fault, again.”

Ed bites his tongue before he can retort, trying not to make this a bigger fight, “I dropped out ‘cause–” He almost can’t look at you, “–‘cause before I called Bobby I – I almost called my fuckin’ dealer,” he let out, taking big breaths through his nose to keep from crying.

“That’s what you wanted to fuckin’ hear, right? That I’m still a fucking loser. Still one step away from fuckin’ it all up again. ‘One bag of smack away from ODing.’”

Eddie’s breaths don’t keep up, his voice cracks, tears sliding down his face in thick streaks, “So I’m – I’m not ready, baby. Everything he said in that gym today, everything in Malibu. He’s right about me, Stell.”

You can’t help but cry too, your heart in your throat, even when you thought you didn’t have any tears left to spill out to him, “He’s not right about you.”

“He is right about me,” Eddie nods, “Look what I did. This whole – this whole day was my fault.”

“No it’s –” you want to say it’s Steve’s fault, but it isn’t. Steve was just reacting to his own hurt from the situation. You just so happened to be the best way for him to get it out.

“What happened Eddie?” you asked, desperate for closure, “What happened with Libby? Why didn’t you tell me on the beach?”

Eddie wiped his face, features still crumpled from crying, “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t think it mattered. I know that’s stupid to say, of course it matters – but it had been so long since it happened and I felt so guilty. I didn’t – I didn’t want you to not come back. I was afraid if you knew, you’d be done.”

“I would’ve appreciated it if you had been honest with me,” you sounded just like your mom when she’d caught you sneaking out, “Keeping it a secret makes it seem worse. Like you wanted it, like you’ve been wanting her since before we were apart.”

“No,” he shakes his head, stepping out of the bathroom with you, “It’s been you the whole time, sweet thing. It’s always you.”

“So why did you kiss her?” you ask, staring at him while sitting on the couch in the living room, tears pricking at your eyes again, “If it’s been me the whole time, why did you kiss her?”

Eddie kneeled at your feet, leaving over to hold your thighs on either side of your lap, his chest covering your shins. He let out a sigh, looking up at you, “It was in March, I was at Glow with the guys and it had been a rough fuckin’ night. I was already a bottle and a half of Jack deep when I saw her there.”

You looked at him, watching him replay it in his head, his memory whirring behind his eyes – you can tell he’s not lying when he does this.

“I got so fucked up that night. I saw – thinking back it’s so stupid – but I saw in the paper that morning that you’d been spotted out to dinner with Jeremy and the picture – you were holding his hand – and I was so fucking hurt, baby. I know I shouldn’t have been, but I couldn’t even call you to ask about it ‘cause your lawyers were on me –”

“We have an agreement about Jeremy, Ed. That’s not fair. The same way we have an agreement about Nic.”

The agreement was, since there was a lot of chemistry between you and Jeremy, and Nic and Eddie, that each of you could fool around with the other, but only with your partner’s permission. (And in the case of Nic, Ed always preferred if you fooled around with them.) Jeremy was one of your first co-stars, you’d never dated but you used to sleep together – amazing lay, but not boyfriend material. The kind of boy who falls in love with any pretty woman who looks at him for five seconds. He was fun to have fun with, and that was about it.

“You didn’t ask,” he said, “You didn’t ask me if it was okay, and I just – I missed holding your hand, baby. I fucking missed you, aching every day over waking up without you while you were out holding hands with some prettyboy scumbag. I was over here loving you, and you couldn’t even pick up the phone. So I thought ‘Oh shit, it’s really over. She’s done with me.’”

“I’m sorry,” you cried, because you knew he’d see that picture. That’s why you reached for Jeremy’s hand that night when the flashes went off, showing off your empty ring finger while you did. You did it to hurt him, you wanted to hurt him because of how bad he hurt you. He reached for your hands and laced fingers with yours, his thumbs gliding over your skin.

“So I saw Libby come in with some girl, saw her over at the bar and I knew something had to be up because Steve wasn’t around. He’d never let her walk around a place like Glow by herself – don’t think he’d even be caught dead there. Her friend left her to go see some girls in a section and I didn’t like that so I sent someone to go grab her. I just – I wanted to show her a good time. When she got up to VIP, God, I could barely see her, all the liquor just hit me at once and I don’t know what came over me. She was so sweet, she was so hurt – they got in a fight and she told me she left him, and you had left me so – you know, just two lost souls who might’ve needed each other for the night. At least that’s how it felt – and I hadn’t kissed anyone since you left –”

“So I kissed her, cause I was hurting, too. I was so lonely, baby – and I know that’s not an excuse – but I was mad at you for Jeremy, and I had that little crush on her. I think I just wanted to get back at you or, or just feel something – it was so long ago, I don’t know. We didn’t do anything more than makeout, I promise – and when she stopped me and I realized what I did – oh fuck, I felt…God, I felt so fucking bad – I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you on the beach, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was just scared.”

“And I’m,” Eddie was choking on sobs at this point, “I’m sorry that what I did made today so awful for you, that it affected your work. I never want to get in the way of what you do or mess up your process, and if I hadn’t been there. I don’t know, maybe he would’ve gone a little easier on you.”

“I don’t think Steve Harrington has ever gone easy on anyone,” you say quietly to your hands, still interlocked with Ed’s.

You felt sick when you pictured the scene in your head. Libby’s hands in his chest, in his hair, straddling him on the white couches at Glow. The grab of his ringed fingers on her thighs and hips, the taste of his smoky liquor stained tongue in her mouth. All you did was hold hands with someone that Eddie had given you the okay for. How could Libby do this after everything Steve did to you? After Steve made you cry in their kitchen, after Eddie had come back to the gym, undone and begging for help. Did she see how broken he was? Did she even know?

“Am I –” the lump in your throat gripped the words, your question making you cry before you can even ask it. Eddie looks up at you, his own eyes wet with tears, his cheeks flaming pink.

“Is there s-something wrong with m-m-me?” you ask, it comes out more pathetic than you thought you had in you, but that’s how you felt.

“No, baby,” he responds, his voice barely audible, “Nothing’s wrong with you.”

“Then wh-when am I –” a hard sob racks your body, trembling with the words, “Wh-when am I g-gonna b-be enough f-for you?”

Eddie gets up, his heart aching at the question. His fingers unlace with yours sliding up to your arms to your shoulders.

“What do you mean? You think you’re not enough for me? Whose putting that in your head, baby?” He’s trying so hard to soothe you through his own tears, but he can feel you vibrating under his grip.

“You are,” you confess, Eddie bites his lip to keep from wailing at the look on your face, “You always – you always –”

“Always what, honey?” His gaze was soft, pleading. He hated watching you cry like this, he hated being the cause of it again.

“You always pick the vice first. You only pick me when you think I’m gonna leave,” you spill out, wiping your tears from under your eyes but it was futile. More tears just kept pouring out of you.

Eddie’s heart shattered because part of him knew it was true. He only had to try when you weren’t a guarantee. And sure, he wasn’t like that now. Now that he was nine months off heroin, being consistent at the gym for a year, making new music with the band, and working with a few others – things were looking good for him. Things were so together, in a way they hadn’t felt before, Ed had never felt so stable. Things between you had felt so right. He was just waiting for the day you put the ring back on so he could throw you in a white dress and call you his wife for real.

He got on the couch, your crying and tired frame was pliant under his hands as he pulled you onto his lap. He adjusted your legs over him, holding you up to his chest while he wiped your face with a tissue from the side table. His other hand ran slowly up and down your back.

“Shh,” he soothed, “I know how I’ve acted before – but I’m not just choosing you because I think you’re gonna leave me this time. I got a bad track record baby, I know. But I told you on the beach – I don’t – I don’t wanna be like my old man. I want to be better for when we have our own family.”

“Jesus, I’ve been having dreams about having babies with you, Stell. About getting married. I can’t do that if I’m not better and that’s all I want – I’d throw all my rockstar shit away if it meant I could be your husband. That’s why I’m not going on tour – I don’t feel strong enough yet to say no when we’re out on the road. And yeah, sure, I know the guys would support me but – I know how I get, you know how I get. I only wanna go do the shows when you can come and keep me honest, where I can come kiss you after.”

“You can’t always depend on me to keep you honest, Ed,” you sniffle.

“I know,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your lips, “I’m learning how to do it for myself, sweet thing.”

You let him kiss you again, feeling too tired and cried out to stop him. After the ordeal of today, getting his attention felt like you won something. His palm was warm against your face, sliding down to the side of your neck. His tongue slid past your teeth, gliding against yours, pressing his whole body into you so you could feel him there. So you’d know he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he said, breaking apart from you, “And I understand if you wanna leave, if you wanna spend some more time apart. I understand. It’s whatever you want.”

Before you could answer, the phone rang and you leaned over Eddie to pick it up off the set on the side table.

“Hi Miss Rink, we have a message at the front desk for you. Would it be okay for us to send it up? Simone also has a couple of papers for you and Eddie to sign that she’d like delivered.”

“Sure, thank you. You can send it all right up,” you said, your actress voice back in it’s purity for the phone call. You hung up and slumped back down on the couch, “Simone’s NDAs are on their way.”

Eddie let a breath out through his nose, you knew he was waiting for you to say something. To say you weren’t leaving him, to say you didn’t want to spend time apart, to assure him that it’s all better now. You get up at the ding of the elevator, the papers on a cart in the center – you quickly collect them and notice a card that didn’t have Simone’s hand writing on it. You pass one of the manila envelopes to Eddie, stamped with ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ and a smiley face drawn in Simone’s red pen.

“Here,” you say. He meets your eye, waiting for anything else, “I’m gonna have to think about it, okay?”

He nods, giving you a weak smile while he takes the envelope from you. You slide your own NDA on the coffee table and thumb the tiny card with your hand.

Stella,

Please meet me tomorrow? I’d love the chance to explain myself, and offer my apology in person. You deserve to hear it from me. I’ll be in the Tim Hortons down the road at 12. I hope you come.

– Libby xx

You take a deep breath and tap the paper on your hand, nerves growing in your chest. Maybe this would be your only chance to ever talk some sense into her. You’d likely never see her again after tomorrow.

“I’ll be right back,” you tell Eddie, slipping your boots back on and hopping in the elevator to send a message back to Libby. You spent some time sitting alone at the hotel bar, nursing a diet Coke while you readied yourself to go back upstairs.

When you got back up, Eddie was found in the bedroom in his normal night time get up – shirtless in black sweatpants, sitting on top of the covers reading over the NDA in the light of the side table.

“You okay?” he asked when you walked in.

“Yeah,” you replied, “Libby wants to meet up tomorrow and talk. Just her.”

Eddie stiffened, “You sure it’s just her?”

You nodded, you were definitely never going to see Steve again – not while Eddie was around.

“I have a bath running for you,” he said, tilting his head to the adjoining bathroom.

“Did you–”

“Yes, the eucalyptus oil is in there already. I left the bottle on the edge in case you want more,” he said, going back to his reading. You couldn’t help but blush at how well he knows you, how he still knows what you need and when you need it.

You started to undress, peeling your gym clothes off and tossing them in the closet hamper. You can feel Eddie’s eyes on you, you can almost taste the saliva pooling in his mouth knowing he can’t have you how he did last night. You shrugged on the plush white robe, wrapping it tight around your body while you headed to the bathroom.

“Hey,” he said softly, you turned your attention toward him at the door, “You don’t have to make a decision right now.”

You tilted your head and he licked his lips nervously, “I’m gonna go back to Hawkins for a bit, help Wayne with some renovations on the house I got him out there. If there’s anyone who can really keep me honest – it’s Wayne.”

“He’s gonna be mad at you,” you say with a small smile. Wayne loves you. Loves you like a daughter. He’d be raving mad after hearing about all this.

“He’s gonna kick my ass,” Eddie laughs, putting a hand over his face, “Fuck, he’s really gonna kick my ass.”

He drops his hand and looks at you again, “So don’t worry about making any choices, don’t worry about me. You know I’ll be on the first flight back the second you call.”

You nodded again, taking your hair down and shaking it out.

“I love you,” he says, “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it today.”

“I love you, too,” you offer him a weak smile before disappearing in the steam of the bathroom.

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