#just dumping my thoughts on paper or even here helps me get it off my chest

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im starting my yearly birthday existential crisis week early

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The Younger Kind Part 49 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley confides in you, loves you, and takes care of as much as he can. When he needs you to help him more than usual, you never complain. As the two of you get ready for a hectic weekend, Bradley makes sure he has his plans in order. And he reminds you that you're always one of his top priorities, even when things get busy.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, oral, smut, cock warming, and age gap (18+)

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

It was dark outside, and you were sitting on the couch with Skittles while you waited for Bradley to get home. Noah was already sound asleep, worn out from an evening of helping you make ants on logs and going for a hike around the block, but you were alert and antsy. All you got was a text from Bradley an hour ago letting you know he was on his way home.

Skittles aimed her puppy eyes right up at you. "I know. I miss him, too." It was kind of funny the way all three Bradshaws had the same brown eyes that made you want to give them anything they asked for. "Okay, fine. But don't tell anyone about it."

You stood and the pup followed you into the kitchen where you cut up a meatball and dumped it into her food bowl. Then you heard the front door open and nearly wiped out on your way back to the living room where Bradley was closing the front door behind him. He had his uniform belt and a ziploc bag filled with his pins in one hand, but he held the other out for you. 

"What happened?" you asked as you tucked yourself against him and examined his face. His expression was unreadable. "Did she sign the paper?"

He nodded as Skittles ran in and sniffed his boot. "Yeah. She signed it," he replied, leaning to kiss your lips as you wrapped your arms around his waist. 

"Wow," you whispered, standing in the living room right next to the area rug where you were laying the first time he ever told you about Meredith. "I'm... kind of surprised."

"Me, too." He tossed his belt and pins onto the couch and held you close. 

You didn't want to pry too much, but you were so curious, it was killing you inside. "What was it like when you talked to her?"

Bradley rubbed his face against your hair as he undid the top few buttons of his uniform shirt before wrapping his arm around you again. "It went better than I expected. I was only in the room with her for maybe ten minutes. She..."

You rubbed soft circles against his back as he collected his thoughts. You didn't care how long it took him to get the words out, you just wanted him to know you'd always be here to listen. His heartbeat was strong and steady as you let your head rest on his chest, and he gave you a little squeeze.

When he spoke again, his voice was rough and sent a chill along your back. "She thinks she would have been better off if she had an abortion. And I tend to agree with her in some respects. But my god, I'm so happy she didn't. I can't even think about living without Noah. So I'm happy she didn't do it." His voice broke, and your eyes welled up with tears. 

"Me too, Daddy," you whispered as you started to tug him toward the kitchen. He'd already had a very long week, but now you could take care of him so he didn't have to do it by himself.

"Baby, I'm fucking exhausted. I'm not hungry. Can we just go to bed?"

You nodded and changed direction. "Of course." You worked on the rest of his buttons and helped him out of his shirt. When he sat on the edge of the bed, you knelt to untie his boots and yank them off, and Bradley looked at you with such adoration, it made your cheeks feel warm. You peeled off his socks, too, and when you got up, you sat on his lap. 

"I'm really proud of you for going to talk to Meredith," you whispered. "I hope Noah grows up to be just like you."

Bradley scooped you up and lounged back against the pillows with you on top of him. "Funny thing about that, Princess... I hope he grows up to be just like you."

Less than fifteen minutes later, you lulled Bradley to sleep while you played with his hair and softly kissed his face. "I love you, Princess," he muttered as you rubbed your nose against his. Then you crept back out of bed to make sure everything was in order for the three of you for the following morning, and you stopped in Noah's room to kiss him before getting ready for bed yourself.

---------------------------

Wednesday and Thursday were both long days, and once again Bradley had to rely on you to pick up all of his slack when it came to Noah. Cyclone was running him ragged in preparation for the air show. Wednesday, he went to the bank to transfer the money into a new account with just his name and Noah's on it. Thursday, he went back to talk to Tracy as soon as he could leave base. 

When he called and asked her if she could help him put up some extra safeguards for his own peace of mind, she told him she could. When he strolled into her office for the second time in one week, she was talking on the phone and drinking a Red Bull, but she pointed to the conference table and a large folder with his name on the front. He skimmed through a stack of paperwork; she'd really thought of everything. Tracy even had your name listed on several documents along with a few notes for you to read. 

When she ended her call, he said, "Thanks for helping me with this. I want to get it all in order."

"You mean like I told you to do years ago?" she asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Listen. At least I'm doing it now."

"I hope you brought your checkbook this time."

When he eventually got home, you already had dinner on the table, and Noah was eating a piece of broccoli. And sure, he'd just dropped another couple hundred bucks when he wrote out a check, but he'd be damned if anything was going to mess with his family again. He set the folder and checkbook down on the counter and bent to kiss you between bites of your dinner while he tousled Noah's hair. 

"You're home earlier than I thought, Daddy," you remarked when he leaned in for another kiss. "And that's a mighty fine looking checkbook you've got there."

"I've been late too much this week," he whispered, stealing a piece of broccoli from your plate. "It shouldn't be like this."

"Next week will be better," you promised. "After the air show and everything this weekend, next week will be quieter. And then maybe I can plan our trip to Disneyland."

"Shhh!" Bradley scolded playfully, reaching to cover Noah's ears as he started to feed his broccoli to Skittles who was begging next to his chair. "Not so loud." You laughed and pointed to the stove where a plate of dinner was waiting for him. "Thanks, Princess."

Once he settled in, you looked at him with a little smirk. "You know, all of these late nights meant I didn't get to my nail appointment. I wanted to have them done for the hospital tour and the air show."

Bradley grimaced. The tour was tomorrow, and you were already leaving work an hour early to get there on time with him. "I'm sorry. The week really got away from me. I should have reminded you to buy a new outfit or two if you wanted."

"Oh, I did," you told him. "I used my Princess card."

He swallowed hard. He could tell you were subtly asking him for a spanking, and he was more than happy to give it to you, but he had something else in mind for the remainder of the night after Noah was in bed. He glanced at his son who was now picking apart his chicken. "Can you take a raincheck, Baby? I have some other plans for the next few days, but I'd love to get my hands on you next week?"

You raised one eyebrow. "What are your other plans?"

He took a bite of food before he said, "I'll tell you after bedtime. After you show me the clothes you bought."

Eventually he sent you off to change into one of these new outfits while he got Noah ready for bed. "I'll be home more next week, Bub. I promise. We'll have time to read more books. And maybe one night you and I can go to the park and give Mommy a little break?"

His son nodded as he rolled over and closed his eyes. But Bradley didn't really want to give you a break. He wanted you with him and Noah all the time. And after this weekend, he anticipated that feeling would grow even stronger.

When he walked into his bedroom and found you examining yourself in front of  the mirror with a form fitting black dress hugging your body, he groaned. "Are you wearing that for the hospital tour?" he asked, and you looked at him in the mirror. 

"Yes?" you replied. "Unless you think it's too much."

He grunted softly. Of course it was too much. You looked sinful in it. All he had to do is put his hand on your ass, bunch the fabric up an inch, and everyone would be privy to the charms he got to enjoy on a regular basis. His cock grew a little hard just thinking about it, which is why he shook his head and told you, "It's not too much, Baby. Not if you're with me all night."

You smiled and peeled it off, baring yourself to him before reaching for the floral sundress on the bed. "What are you wearing tomorrow night?" you asked.

"My flight suit."

"You can't wear that! It's for work and for looking sexy at home!" you protested as you put the second dress on. 

"Cyclone wants me in my flight suit both days. Please don't make me piss him off."

You laughed and spun in your second dress and he closed the distance to you. "I'll behave. Like a good girl."

Bradley kissed your forehead. "You're wearing this to the air show?"

"Yes," you whispered. "I got Noah a yellow shirt to match me."

Bradley wasn't sure exactly why, but that information sent his brain into a whirlwind. Matching outfits. Mommy and son stuff. "Princess," he moaned. 

"We'll look cute next to you in your sexy flight suit."

"You will look hot as hell both days," he confirmed, helping you pull the sundress off again. "Now, I think I owe you a manicure and a pedicure?" he asked, making you gasp and smile.

-------------------------

You quickly changed into one of Bradley's oversized shirts and met him in the kitchen with all your nail supplies. "Are you really going to do this?" you asked him, and he just nodded and smirked like he had a little secret. "Wait... are you secretly really good at painting nails?"

He shrugged and patted his knee, naked except for his black briefs. "I have no idea. Never tried it before."

It somehow made you feel giggly that he was going to sweetly attempt to do your nails for you even though he didn't know how. You settled down on his lap and set out some bottles of polish. "Which color?" you asked him. 

He had his lips on your neck as he murmured, "Do you really need to ask? Purple, Baby."

You moaned his name as you pushed the other colors aside, and then Bradley's hand was up underneath the shirt, teasing your skin and checking to see if you were wearing underwear. You leaned back against his chest and looked up at him over your shoulder. "You feel like fooling around first?"

His thumb stroked softly along the length of your slit. "Kind of," he said, his voice deep and raspy. "You ever warmed a cock before?"

The pad of his thumb felt a little rough, sending goosebumps all along your skin and making your lips part in need. "No," you whispered, always a little sheepish to admit your lack of experience when it came to things that he liked. "But I've heard of it."

He hummed softly and kissed your ear as he continued to stroke you. "You want me to tell you a little more about it? And maybe then you can tell me if you think it's something you'd enjoy?" When you nodded, he kissed your neck and said, "You would take my cock inside you. We would make each other feel warm and safe, and I could paint your nails while we sit here. No thrusting or anything." He dragged his lips and mustache back up to your ear. "You could warm me with your mouth, pussy or ass." You moaned softly, already clenching as he stroked his thumb up and back down your slit. "But since you didn't give yourself some time with your plug first, we could try it with your pussy. If you want to."

Even the idea of it sounded hot and intimate, and you were surprised and delighted that he wanted to try this with you. All of it. The cock warming and the nail painting and just everything. You turned slightly in his lap and took his face in your hands. His skin was warm and rough beneath your hands where his stubble was growing back from when he shaved earlier this morning. His brown eyes were fixed on yours. "I want to," you whispered as you kissed him. 

He smiled softly as you let your hands trail down his body to the waistband of his briefs. When he lifted his hips, you yanked them down and marveled at the sight of his half hard cock resting on his thigh. "You do that to me," he rasped, visibly growing harder. "Just having you on my lap, and the way you let me touch you. Baby, that's all you."

You whimpered into his mouth as he kissed you, and when you turned so your back was to his chest, you said, "This is what you do to me, Daddy." Then you spread your thighs and draped your legs over his, and you took his hand in yours. You eased his thumb along your slit again, this time letting him feel how wet you were when you were spread open for him. 

He murmured, "I love you," into the crook or your neck while he cock bobbed up and tapped against your inner thigh. "You ready?"

"Yes," you sighed, and Bradley reached in front of you with his right hand and guided his cock through your wet folds and inside you. When you adjusted yourself and leaned forward a bit, the sensation of being so full made you gasp as you took him to the hilt.

"Feel okay?" he asked softly, pulsing gently inside you even though he wasn't thrusting. "If you don't like it, we'll stop."

You turned your head to look at him. "I like it. A lot. I feel so full. Do you like it?"

"Feels incredible," he whispered. "Like you're just holding me and gripping me with your sweet pussy." Heat rose in your face as the raspiness of his voice washed over you. Then he asked, "Want me to try to paint your nails?"

You sat there with Bradley's arms wrapped around you and your palms flat on the kitchen table while his cock was nestled inside you. Neither of you moved very much, and your voices were soft as he worked slowly. After he finished a nail, he treated your neck and cheek to a smattering of kisses, and his breathing was even next to your ear while he worked. 

"I can't even look at the color purple without thinking about you," he murmured, and you clenched around him. "God, Baby," he gasped. "Fuck."

You couldn't help that you loved being loved by him. "You feel really good inside me," you told him as he swiped polish onto your left ring finger. He seemed to be taking extra time with that one, kissing and nipping at your ear between each dip of the brush into the bottle.

"Baby, you hardly wear any jewelry," he mused.

You laughed softly as he finally moved to your pinky. When you adjusted yourself on his lap, he grunted. "I don't really have any jewelry."

"And if I got you some, would you wear it?"

"That's a ridiculous question. Of course I would. But you already get me what I need, and you paid off my school loans. You don't need to buy me anything else."

He finished with your pinky and screwed the lid on the nail polish bottle. "But I want to." When his hands came to rest on your thighs, he remarked, "Your nails turned out better than I expected."

"They look so good, Daddy," you said, holding your hands up. 

"How long does this shit take to dry?"

"Maybe ten minutes?"

He gently took both of your wrists in his hands and set your palms back on the table. "You want me to paint your toenails, too?"

"Please," you whispered as his hands returned to the tops of your thighs. He was humming as he cupped your pussy with his fingers while he dragged his other hand up to your breasts beneath the shirt you were wearing. 

Hands rough against your nipples, he asked, "Will you let me fuck you first? Paint your pussy really pretty too?"

"Oh my god, yes."

As soon as the words left your tongue, Bradley groaned loudly and thrusted upwards while he stroked your clit, and you practically screamed. "You have to be quiet, Princess," he warned, and you pressed your lips together. "God, you got me so fucking worked up, just sitting here with your little pussy wrapped around me."

He fucked up into of you again and again until you were actually holding onto the table to keep yourself upright on his lap. "Daddy," you whimpered as he went a little faster. Each movement had your clit bouncing against his sure fingers, and when he started spanking you softly with them, you nearly screamed again. 

"Oh. Oh, fuck," he grunted, panting next to your ear. His breath was warm, and his words were sinfully deep as he told you, "I'm gonna come." He moaned your name as he held you to his chest, fucking you with your legs spread wide on his lap. "It's so fucking good."

Bradley's hips rolled as he filled you with his cum, his broad chest rising and falling against your back. You were about to turn and kiss him when he hauled you to your feet as his softening cock slipped out of you. You squealed as he eased you down onto the floor on your back and pushed your legs open wide. 

"What are you doing?" you asked as he knelt and eased himself into position with his hands on the backs of your thighs. 

"You didn't come." He licked your pussy, making you gasp. You wanted to tell him that it didn't matter if you came tonight or not, because you loved the cock warming, but his face was already buried in your messy pussy. You felt so wet as you propped yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. His mustache was covered in his own cum and your wetness as he looked up at you and said, "You didn't get enough of my attention this week. You deserve more. I always want you to have more. I'll make you come."

He sounded so sure of himself, and as soon as you nodded he went back to work. "Daddy!" you whined when his tongue swept up around both of your holes before swirling around your clit like he was unwilling to leave any of his cum behind. Just the thought of it had you clenching, and then he started to fuck you with his fingers while he sucked on your clit. The noises were beautifully obscene.

As he started to add a little pressure, you realized something big was building inside you. "Oh god!" you groaned, once again loud enough that you should be concerned about waking up Noah. Your hips rocked up to meet his mouth and fingers, and your legs started shaking. 

Bradley grunted as he licked a long stripe and then started to suck. When he released you, your hips bobbed to chase him for more. "So damn sensitive," he crooned, his face a glistening mess as he licked his mouth and looked up at you. "Squirt for me."

You don't know how he knew better than you did what you were about to do, but he licked you from your asshole all the way to your clit while you rocked against him. He pumped two fingers deep inside you, stroking you just right while he plucked at your clit, and you shook your head from side to side on the kitchen floor.

"Daddy." It came out as a gasp as you felt yourself gush. 

You squirted on his face. You could feel it dripping down your butt to the floor. You felt wet everywhere as Bradley continued to pump his fingers gently in and out. "Baby," he whined, licking all around your overworked pussy until you shook. Then he kissed along your inner thigh and said, "I always want to make you come. You're mine. Now don't move an inch. You've done enough."

He leaned over your body, and kissed your lips, letting you taste the mess both of you made all over his face. It was intoxicating, licking his own cum from his mustache where he also tasted like you. But perhaps the best part was the way he slipped his tongue into your mouth before he said, "I love you."

-----------------------

Bradley took his time, making sure they looked as good as he could get them. Every swipe of polish on one of your toenails was accompanied by a press of his lips to your foot or ankle. You were laying on the floor looking like a perfect fucked out mess. He could still see a drop of his cum ready to drip out of your pussy if you moved just right, and you'd squirted all over him and the floor. The whole room smelled like sex and nail polish with your underlying wildflower scent, and he wished he could bottle it up. 

You giggled when he pressed his lips and mustache to your ankle. "Tickles," you whispered, looking up at him in adoration. So he kissed your ankle again before finishing up with his painting project and blowing softly on your nails. Your eyes drifted closed as you told him, "You're such a dream, Bradley. You just painted my nails and made me squirt on the kitchen floor."

This was the life he wanted with you. He'd worship you and love you. Take care of anything you or Noah needed. Dote on his family. And if another baby came along, well, he was ready for that, too. After this weekend, he prayed you'd be sporting your engagement ring, because more than anything else, he was ready for that next step. 

He kissed the side of your big toe before setting your foot down on the messy floor. "Your nails look damn good."

"Thank you, Daddy," you whispered as you pushed yourself up and crawled toward him. He picked you up and carried you directly to the bathroom where he got the shower ready for you and pulled his shirt over your head.

"I'll be right back. As soon as I clean up the floor." He kissed your smiling lips before dashing back into the kitchen. He took a deep breath and groaned. "Incredible," he whispered, wiping up the floor and cleaning up your nail supplies. Then he joined you in the shower.

"Will you sing to me?" you asked a little groggily when he wrapped you up in his arms. He sang his favorite song while he looked at your purple nails and thought about getting that ring on your finger. As soon as you were in bed for the night, he made sure Noah was asleep, and then he took Skittles outside. Before he climbed in bed, he checked the top of the closet for the ring box. Everything was ready to go. When he pulled the covers up, you scooted closer to him in your sleep. 

"I love you, Baby."

Friday morning, he needed to be on base early, so he woke you up just before he left in his flight suit. When he pressed his lips to your forehead, you tried to pull him back into bed. "I can't," he whispered with a laugh. "But I'll be home and ready to leave for the hospital tour at five. And Amelia should be here by then, too."

"Okay," you croaked softly as you cracked one eye open. "I'll take care of Noah."

"I know you will," Bradley rasped, now desperately wishing he could climb back in bed with you and let you know how much he fucking appreciated you. "I'll leave the coffee maker on. I love you."

You waved from bed as he grabbed his wallet and keys and made his way to the front door. There was nobody out yet, and he got to base quickly only to find Nat and Javy practically groping each other by their cars. When she saw his Bronco pulling in, Nat jumped away from Javy like he was actually made out of fire and started to head for the building. 

"Could have told you to stay away from that one, man," Bradley said as he closed his door behind him.

"I asked her out," Javy replied sadly. "Four times."

Bradley clapped him on the shoulder. "Either throw in the towel now, or get ready for the longest marathon of your life." 

He started walking away when Javy called out, "So you think if I stick with it, she'll admit she's in love with me?"

Bradley shrugged. "The only thing I know for sure is that she's a pain in the ass."

Bradley dropped his stuff off in the locker room and headed out onto the tarmac where Cyclone and Mav were waiting for him. He saluted both of his superiors and then collected the paperwork Admiral Simpson handed to him. "This is your itinerary for tomorrow morning. Be here by 0500 to fly your aircraft up to Miramar to meet with everyone else you'll be flying with. Some are from Lemoore. Some are from out of state. Make Top Gun look good."

Then he left Bradley alone with Mav to go over the schedule and practice the maneuvers. "Listen," Bradley said as they walked toward his jet. "The earlier I can get out of here today, the better."

"Amelia's babysitting tonight, right?" Maverick asked. "You're doing the charity hospital tour?"

"Yeah, and I'll need to get some actual sleep tonight if I'm waking up at four in the morning tomorrow," Bradley replied. "It's not just about the air show at this point." When Mav gave him a confused look, Bradley sighed and added, "I'm hoping to go from boyfriend to fiancé this weekend." Maverick broke out into a toothy grin. "And don't you dare tell Penny!"

He held his hands up innocently before pulling Bradley in for a tight hug. "It'll be our little secret. But your mom and dad would have loved to see how good you are with Noah, and that you chose a partner with him in mind. And I'm proud of you, too."

--------------------------

"But I'm hungry," Noah whined as soon as you got him home. Casey pissed you off by taking so long to retrieve Noah, and now you were running late. The plan was for Amelia to order a pizza since you and Bradley would be enjoying food at the cocktail reception, but you still needed to get ready to go. Thankfully you usually always had a snack prepared.

"How about some ants on logs?" you asked him as you kicked off your shoes and opened the back door for Skittles. Before Noah could answer, you opened the refrigerator and pulled out the container of carrots and peanut butter. He settled in a chair at the table and started crunching through a carrot stick. You started to feel flushed and warm when you thought about last night's activities that took place exactly where you were standing now. 

Skittles broke you free from your thoughts as she pawed at the door to come inside. You scooped some dinner into her bowl and then ran to the bedroom as you said, "I'll be right back, Noah." 

Black dress, black heels, black thong. You smiled for the millionth time when you looked at your purple nails. You just needed to get your beaded clutch down from the top of the closet. As you stood on tiptoes, you brushed your hand along the shelf. Your fingers connected with Bradley's gym bag, and you pushed it out of the way. Then you felt the corners of a small, square box instead of your bag, and you wrapped your fingers around it just when you heard knocking at the front door.

You gave up on your quest and ran to let Amelia inside. "Hey," she said casually as you opened the door.

"Can you order a pizza and feed Noah?" you asked her as you handed her your purple credit card. "I really need to get ready."

"Sure," she replied heading for the kitchen where she greeted Noah with a pat on his head. You could hear her asking what kind of pizza he wanted while she got his coloring books out. 

When you made it back to the closet, this time you got your hand on your beaded bag right away. "Perfect," you muttered. You took the world's fastest shower and got your hair and makeup perfected. When you heard Bradley walk inside, you were slipping your thong up your legs and then shimmying into your dress. When you looked in the mirror, you turned to inspect yourself. Everything looked pretty damn good. 

"Hey, Princess," Bradley said when he let himself in the bedroom. "Wow."

The look he was giving you was so funny when he himself was standing there in a clean flight suit looking like a million bucks. "You look hot, Daddy," you said as you picked up your high heels and rushed toward him. "We need to go, or we'll be late."

He kissed you and wrapped his hands around your hips. "We could just stay home? I think we should stay home."

You pouted up at him playfully. "But I wanted to tour the hospital. Jake promised me he'd take me if he was flying in the air show. Remember?"

Bradley stroked your jaw with his thumb, a playful smile on his lips. "Don't be a brat."

You moaned as he took your shoes from your hand and knelt in front of you. "I'll behave," you promised, your breath catching a bit at the sight of him on one knee as he helped you step into your shoes. You let your fingers play with his wavy hair as he kissed your thighs just below the bottom of your dress, and when he stood, he scooped you up in his arms. 

"As excited as you are about tonight, that's how excited I am for tomorrow," he whispered as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

"I'm excited for everything," you promised as he carried you out to say goodnight to Noah.

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Daddy has some big plans for the weekend. And if she touches that box one more time, he might have a heart attack. But what I wouldn't give to have him paint my nails. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 50

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[heartfullofleeches]

Going to do a small ramble since janitors been getting some misgendering.

Imagine if for a second, janitor just corrected people on their pronouns. Like, sure their in a chaotic fast food place but the least a customer can do is accept the pronouns the fucking cleaner of the establishment uses. Maybe after a long hard day of work, FF! Reader just gives sulli a hug. They deserve it even in this murder happy and very questionably run fast food joint. Maybe they even just chill after hours in the building to just hang out. Idk personally think there's not enough fluff for them. (Side thing : what if janitor just had a they/them pin? I've seen more recently at least in my area service workers have rainbow or fandom pins and I think it'd fit them.) -🍭anon (sorry I haven't spoken in awhile, been very busy with life)

[I'll do you one better- FF Reader being the one to correct the customer. TW: Mention of misgendering]

"Um, excuse me, Sir? There's still no paper towels in the bathroom."

Why do they even bother? They've expressed their grievances to this customer multiple times - both in fact of them being busy with other work, and that the customer had mistaken them for something they weren't. They've tried to let it slide. They've tried to gently inform the customer of their preferred pronouns. No dice. Their head was pounding from the fumes of the chemical they worked with, and this was doing nothing to help it. Why did they come into work today.

"Listen, I'll get to it once I'm done mopping. How many times do I have to tell you I'm not a-"

Soft squeaks resonate from the freshly cleaning floor as heavy steps race across it. A hand nabs the bottle of cleanser out of the janitor's hands - aiming the nozzle directly in line with the customer's eyes as its finger clamps down on the trigger.

The customer screeches - throwing their hands over their face to shield themselves as their eyes sting and vision blurs.

"Begone." Steadying your aim, you blast the customer with another face full of the unholy solution filing the bottle in your hands. Had to be some powerful stuff to get out the stains you see on the daily. Despite their arms blocking majority of their face, you manage to get a spray of the mixture in their mouth. They retch - tears and saliva dripping down their face as they spit.

"Agh! What the hell is wrong with you!"

"The fuck's wrong with you? I've been watching you all morning. There's a line between a mistake and being an ignorant asshole, and you've crossed it buddy. Go on, get - shoo, get the fuck outta here."

"I hope you know you've just lost a paying customer!"

"You say that like it's a bad thing. Go ruin someone's else's day."

The Janitor watches as you chase the customer out of the establishment, hurling obscenities and hitting them with another jet of cleanser whenever they turn to look back. You toss the now empty bottle at the hood of their car as they crawl in and speed away. Their heart pumps so loudly they can barely hear your steps as you return to their side.

"Sorry about using all your cleanser. Wanna go pretend to look for more in storage room and sneak out the back?"

The Janitor deadpans. "I used to think I was in love you.... It's gone far beyond just a thought now."

"I know." You throw your arm around their shoulder - allowing them to dump their weight on you as they go weak in the knees from the contact. You half carry them out the back door, sneaking off to where their van was parked outside. You hold your hand out for their keys which they readily give you. You help them into the passenger seat before walking around to the driver's side and hopping in. The Janitor's hand reaches over the divider, stopping just short of your arm.

"You good?"

Their head falls to your shoulder - voice strained as they rub at where their eyes would be. "Yea....Yea, I'm good. Thanks by the way."

You place your hand over theirs, squeezing it gently. "Eh, you and I are the one's keeping the hellhole in shape.. You deserve more respect than you get sometimes... Ready to ditch this place for the night?"

"....Please?..."

[bishopsbeloved]

bad idea!

kate bishop x fem reader

No matter how much of a bad idea it may seem to go back to Kate Bishop, you can’t help it. You’re like a moth to a flame

inspired by a girl in red song, mentions of sex but no actual smut, fwb/ex gf kate, dumb lesbians, kind of just a drabble icl, 1.1k words

NOTE: my requests are open!!!!! send me anything you’d like!!!!!! i can’t guarantee i’ll get it done but you’re welcome to send things in🫶

It was such a bad idea to get involved with Kate Bishop again.

It’s so stupid that this even happened. Every fucking time things end between you you’re resolute in your position, you’re determined that this will truly be the end, but Kate Bishop has this way of drawing people back in. You’ve fallen victim to her strange unspeakable allure more times than you can count. That’s how you ended up here in the first place.

Yes, okay, fine, she’s good at sex. When she sends a you up? text you can’t help the way your heart beats a little faster at the thought of the chase resuming between the two of you, of cat and mouse returning to flirtatious antics with one inevitable end. No matter how many times you try to escape it, you and Kate Bishop always seem to find your way back to one another, only to sourly part again and leave you even more lost than you were before. You don’t know what to do. You can’t fucking stand her. You can’t get away from her. You’re not sure you want to.

Nobody else has ever touched you in the way she does, or as well as she can. No matter how much you pretend otherwise she is the one you crave; she’s the one on your mind whilst the hands of others roam your body. You have this deep, innate, carnal need for her — for everything about her — not just her fingers and her tongue and her strap but also her whiny raspy voice first thing in the morning (she, annoyingly adorably, hates mornings) and the sloppy neck kisses she delivers to say goodnight and the kind of sheepish shifty look whenever she brings you a token of her love. The latter doesn’t happen much anymore, not since the two of you broke up — since she dumped you — which on paper ought to mean the two of you no longer see each other. And yet more nights than not one of you has crawled back to and somehow ended up in the other’s bed. It seems you’re both full of bad ideas, and yet neither of you can get enough.

When you wake up in her room again, the purple wallpaper adorned with medals and trophies and Hawkeye posters all too familiar by this point, that feeling of heaviness settles in your stomach. For fuck’s sake. You’re always disappointed in yourself, the morning after. There’s a reason the two of you aren’t together anymore — so why do you keep waking up in each other’s beds?

You look down at where Kate Bishop is nestled against your chest, still bare-skinned against you after last night’s activities. It’s irritating how beautiful she is even when she’s asleep. She looks so lovely in your arms you can almost imagine that being your reality again, until you harshly remind yourself Kate doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want you like that, she broke up with you and the only reason she sees you anymore is for sex. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, it makes your stomach turn, and suddenly you want nothing more than to be away from her.

Crawling out of Kate’s bed when she’s wrapped herself around you like this is never easy. Perhaps in unconsciousness, in her most vulnerable state, she’s more reluctant to let you go. Sometimes you feel a little guilty leaving before she wakes so often, but you have to, for your own good — for the good of both of you. When you’re not fucking you don’t really know what to say to her. Hey, you were the love of my life, why’d you dump my ass? No thanks. She has these big blue puppy-dog eyes that just make you feel horrible about the whole thing, and everything you’ve ever done, ever. No, you’re better off leaving now.

“You’re leaving,” says a small, scratchy voice from behind you, as you stumble about in the half-dark of the room locating your clothing. It’s a statement, not a question, but she still doesn’t sound entirely certain.

You don’t really know how to respond, you’re kind of wishing this wasn’t happening and rushing to find your other sock so you can get out of here, so you just let out a kind of low grunt of acknowledgement.

“You always leave,” Kate responds, and you don’t have to turn around to know that she’s pouting a little. You can hear it in her voice. The fact you can tell, that you know her well enough to tell only pisses you off even further, and you let out a kind of bitter laugh.

“It’s not like you fucking want me here.”

“That’s not true.” She pauses, and you hear the little noises she makes as she sits up and stretches. “I do want you here. I keep bringing you back, don’t I?”

“Yeah, cause a good fuck is all I’m worth to you,” you say angrily, before closing your eyes and tilting your head back. No. You can’t let her ass ruin your day when you have so much shit to do.

“No, that’s not true,” she tries, whilst at the same time you groan “I can’t do this, Kate.”

She sits up a little straighter, eyes wide, voice an octave higher. “W— what? Can’t do what?”

“I can’t do you.”

“But I— you keep— you keep coming back, though.”

This hits a nerve, and you laugh incredulously, finally turning around to face her. She’s looking up at you in the semi-darkness of the room, her face unreadable. “Yeah, and I shouldn’t. It’s fucking pathetic. I can’t get over my ex so I’ll sleep with her whenever she asks. It’s not— it’s— Kate, I can’t keep doing this.” You bury your head in your hands.

Vaguely, you hear the gentle rustle of fabric in Kate’s side of the room. You just need a moment to collect yourself and you’ll get the fuck out of here.

You hear her footsteps padding towards you, and you open your eyes again. She’s haphazardly tugged on a shirt and is stood before you, bare-legged, almost doleful in expression. “I’m sorry,” she says, barely a whisper. “This is all— I keep fucking up. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you say tiredly.

“I— I don’t know. Everything. You.” She steps towards you uncertainly.

“Kate,” you say, and you’re not sure who moved first, but within moments her lips are on yours again. When she tugs you back towards the bed, you let her, your stomach churning with the indescribable sensation of simultaneous adoration and angst that her touch fills you with. She’s so pretty it actually physically hurts.

God, you’re totally fucked.

[rosiestalez]

One Swipe With Love

Battinson x teacher!f!reader

wc: 990

Summary: You take a shopping trip with Bruce’s card to stock up on your favorite things. You see him struggling to remove his makeup one morning, and you help him take it off. He does the same thing after a long day of work.

Warnings: None, pure tooth rotting fluff

——————————————————————

Bruce could never take off his eyeliner properly. He would rub his eyes raw with soap and water, and for some reason it wouldn’t come off with as much ease as yours did. He would borrow your eyeliner from time to time, the water proof stuff, and he thought that was issue. Yet, when it was time for bed he’d still have remnants of his batman eyeliner smeared on his eyes.

When you came home one afternoon with a Sephora bag he was quite intrigued by your purchases with his credit card.

“Hey baby!”, you speak loudly from the entry way, “I wanna show you everything!”, you kick off your shoes and make your way into the living area where Bruce is sitting watching the news. He turns to you muting the tv. You kiss his forehead before taking a spot next to him on the couch.

It always seems like you two are polar opposite, through energy, clothes, color, interests, but you two still seem to find a way to love each other. Today he’s wearing a basic black on black sweat suit, but you however an elementary schoolteacher was wearing your favorite white tennis skirt and a hot pink tank top for your day off. Your makeup was beautiful, and you decided to do a touch of eyeshadow for your shopping trip.

“Show me what you got baby”, a slight smile tugs at his lips. You smile widely dumping out the contents from the bag, “wow that’s a lot!”, his eyebrows rising, “which card was this on?”

“The Black Amex one”, you pause, “I think”, your smile still wide. He just sighs.

“Baby, you’re so lucky i love you”, you giggle at his response handing him the card from your purse, “Alright now show me everything!”, his voice lined with sarcastic cheer.

You go through all the products, what they’re used for and why you need them. He doesn’t quite understand it, but he loves seeing your face light up when you explain everything to him.

“Oh! and this! this is my FAVORITE, makeup remover. it’s like a balm and it’s old based it’s awesome! it even removes my eye liner!”, holding up a bottle of Fenty Cleansing Balm.

Bruce’s eyes light up, you said it “removes eyeliner?”

“mhmm! even my waterproof stuff, it’s great”, you smile.

“Do you think I could maybe try it soon? like tonight?”, he asks softly.

“oh! Of course my love!” nodding your head, “I can even show you how to use it!”, and with that a genuine smile plasters all over his face.

Later that night Bruce plants a kiss on your lips before he leave for patrol leaving you and Alfred alone in the Manor. You’re nestled under the covers of your shared bed reading one of your favorite books with a cup of tea by your side. He’s never here to share these moments with you like your coworkers partners, who sit with them while they grade papers or make lesson plans. For you, that’s okay, because during the day Bruce is by your side with lavish gifts, support, and during the school year he drops by the school once a week for storytelling. Finishing your chapter, you roll over pulling the string to the lamp and you close your eyes to sleep.

—-

Your alarm blares, and you hear Bruce walking into the room, ‘5:30 am’. You get out of bed to begin your morning routine, while Bruce begins his night routine. You meet him in the bathroom, and see him trying to take his makeup off. “Good morning Brucey”, you hum.

“Morning, love”, his voice husky.

“D’you need some help?”, you smile sleepily. He nods, you open the cabinet under the sink pulling out your makeup remover you baught yesterday. “okay, so this is how it works”, you squeeze out a bit from the tube emulsifying it in your hand before rubbing gentle circles around his eyes removing the black makeup slowly. You direct him to wash his face under water before taking micellar water to wipe away the rest. “There you go baby, all clean. are you headed off to bed?”

“For a little bit, i have to go through some evidence about the Riddler character.”

“Promise me you’ll sleep for at least three hours”, your voice sweet.

“yeah”, he says plainly mustering up a facetious smile. You stand up on your tip-toes and plant a kiss on his forehead before scooting him out the bathroom to shower.

—-

You were exhausted, the kids were obnoxious, the school smelled awful from whatever they were cooking in the cafeteria, and during morning work a kid puked seconds away from the bathroom door. It was truly one of your worse days as an educator and that’s saying a lot. You walk through the front door greeting Alfred, and planting yourself in the den enjoying the silence that you’ve been craving all day. You exhale deeply soaking up all the couch’s plush warmth.

“Babe?”, a voice can be heard from the door way, “you okay?”, Bruce asks.

“i’m okay, just a long day”, you smile lazily.

“Rough day?”

“Something like that”, you sit up on the couch and Bruce takes a seat beside you. He brings you into a cuddle hug, running his fingers through your hair. You move further into his embrace letting his motions relax your mind. “I need food ASAP, i’m starving.”

“Alfred is working on dinner”, his voice low, “want to take that makeup off?”

You nod simply before standing up and following him into the master bathroom. He ushers you to sit down on the closed toilet seat just as you did this morning to him. He pulls out your makeup remover from beneath the sink and follows the same steps you showed him earlier.

He gives a tender kiss on your forehead , “s’beautiful”, he compliments, you smile, reaching up to plant a kiss on his lips.

a/n: snack on this while we continue to wait for poll results:)!

[daycourtofficial]

It’s Autumn in New York

Pairing: modern!Azriel x Eris | WC: 1.5k | warnings: none

Summary: my favorite playlist ‘listening to jazz while cooking with your lover in a nyc apartment’ but make it soup and Azris and big sweaters ❣️

Note: I couldn’t let @erisweekofficial go by without some Azris!!!

“It’s looking at me.”

Azriel rolled his eyes at Eris’s greeting before putting a scrap of paper in his book, standing and meeting Eris at the door. He lightly kissed his boyfriend’s cheek as he grabbed some of the bags from Eris’s hands. The pair carried them further into his tiny kitchen, placing bags on the limited counter space.

“She has a name.”

“Yes, but I don’t think it suits her. I think Devil Spawn is more appropriate.”

At that moment, the cat jumped up on the counter, her tail moving from side to side as her big green eyes watched Eris. He sneered in response at the black cat’s presence.

“I just know she wants to sink her claws into my sweater. It’s hand knit, prick.”

Azriel lightly elbowed him from behind, his boyfriend’s antagonism to his cat both annoying and slightly entertaining. “She’s a cat. I don’t think she understands what hand knit, expensive wool means.”

Eris and his godsdamned sweater, Azriel thought. He took a deep breath as he pulled ingredients from the bags, trying to let his annoyance settle as he inspected the squash Eris picked up before he began peeling the onion and dicing it.

It had only been two months since Eris told his father he was dating a man and was very quickly disowned. In the span of twelve hours, Beron had seized all of Eris’s assets, from his bank accounts to his apartment, and fired him and had him banned from Vanserra Enterprises’s grounds.

He had showed up to Azriel’s apartment in nothing but the sweater and trousers he wore now.

Azriel and Eris had been dating on and off for a year and a half by this point, Eris finally deciding to tell his family, despite both men knowing how it would likely end.

Their relationship was never ‘off’ for very long - only a week or two here and there, when both their tempers got too much to handle. The stress of keeping their romance a secret frequently causing Eris to leave whenever things became too much or too real.

But they had been dating for a year straight when Eris began getting plagued with the need to tell his family. He knew the outcome - had even talked over every strategy with his younger brother, Lucien, to help figure out the softest way to tell them.

But Beron Vanserra was not a caring man.

Things had been looking up for Eris since then - it was a learning curve for him to have to live with someone in such small quarters, but the two made it work somehow. Azriel was a transplant to New York City, whereas Eris grew up here.

But shoebox apartments were never something Eris had been acquianted with - growing up in penthouse apartments in the upper east side meant he had grown accustomed to having an amount of space most New Yorkers would deem ‘excessive’.

But the pair made it work.

Eris had even been working on rekindling a relationship with Lucien - the two met up at least once a fortnight for coffee or pastries - short, small commitments for the two to work through the complexities of decades of emotional manipulation.

In a few days Eris was starting a job doing what he had initially wanted to do - running political campaigns. He recently got hired with a firm and he’ll begin helping Nesta Archeron try to take the seat of governor from their incumbent.

Eris had spent all week pouring over every piece of news he could get in the state to prepare himself - every data point, every poll. He had started quoting numbers in his sleep much to Azriel’s annoyance.

Azriel kicked him out of the apartment a few hours ago, telling him to go to the store and to get ingredients for butternut squash soup.

“Well, Azriel, perhaps it’s time you taught her about fine, luxury items.”

He dumped the diced onion into a hot pot as Eris began slicing the squash. “Yes, Er, I will spend the free time I have with you teaching my cat to better differentiate between polyester and cashmere.”

“You make me sound absurd.”

After a pause, Eris slowly smiled, looking at Azriel as he paused his cutting. “Why start there? The first lesson should be all textiles, not just cashmere and polyester.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, his hip checking Eris’s as he pulled the knife from the redhead’s hand and continued to cut the gourd into chunks.

“Perhaps I should quit my job and stay at home and homeschool her.”

His joke had been punctuated with a light meow as Midnight jumped from the counter, moving between Eris and Azriel’s sock clad feet, her body rubbing against Azriel’s calf as she purred.

“As if you could teach anyone manners.”

Azriel stopped his cutting, picking up the board as he dropped the chunks in the dutch oven. He hummed at Eris’s remark, trying to think of a witty reply before turning and grabbing Eris’s hand, pulling it to his lips and leaving a soft kiss.

Eris let a sneer cover his face, but his body moving closer to Azriel betrayed how he really felt about the man before him. One of Azriel’s hands moved to the hem of Eris’s sweater, resting lightly on his hip.

“What are you doing?”

“Is this not a proper greeting? I’m working on my manners.”

“I don’t think feeling someone up is a proper greeting.”

Azriel’s hand slid around, sliding into Eris’s back pocket. At Eris’s raised eyebrow, he responded, “If I’m going to be improper and feel you up, I’m going to do it properly.”

“The soup’s going to burn.”

Azriel turned his head, looking to the pot of vegetables that was heating. The vegetables hardly looked like they had warmed at all, and he imagined he could just stick his hand in it and come out only slightly warmer than his skin.

“I like to take risks.”

“Ah yes, professional risk taker. You spend your day in an office.”

“I walk on top of the grates when I walk through city. That is a risk. My earring could fall out and into the grate.”

Eris rolled his eyes, “everyone walks over the grates and if your earring fell out on the sidewalk,” he brought his finger to lightly play with the dangling knife from Azriel’s ear, “you would need several shots after putting it back in your ear.”

“I have isopropyl alcohol in the bathroom.”

“You have clearly not lived here long enough to understand that that is not strong enough to kill New York street bacteria.”

Azriel hummed, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Eris took in his boyfriend, the deep blue sweater he had received for Christmas last year looking as stunning as Eris had expected it to when he bought it. He looked at Azriel’s profile, the dark bags beneath his eyes sending a pang through Eris.

The past few months had been draining for him, but Azriel had been picking up the brunt of the emotional load in this time, helping Eris work through what a life without his father would look like.

Just because it was the best thing to do didn’t make it any easier.

Eris pulled away first, untangling his limbs from Azriel to pull out the bread he had picked up, putting the gluten free loaf onto a cutting board as he cut chunky slices for the pair.

Azriel wrapped his arms around Eris, not letting him stray too far from his touch. Time slipped away as the two shared their body heat in the kitchen, not having anything to do until the timer for the vegetables wittled down.

When the timer finally went off, Azriel moved to turn the stove off while Eris moved to put the blender on the counter. The cat kept weaving between Eris’s legs, making moving through the kitchen nearly impossible. When he nearly tripped over her, he gave an exasperated sigh and scooped her into his arms.

“I hate you.”

She meowed loudly in his face before rotating her body to get comfortable and buried her face in Eris’s chest.

“It’s rumbling.”

“She’s purring, Eris. It’s a sign of affection. Lord knows you couldn’t identify that on your own.”

The redhead rolled his eyes as Azriel brought the pot of soup to the blender, using a spatula to get every last piece in before blending it into a soupy consistency, adding broth as he went to make it less viscous.

The sound of the blender made conversation impossible, until eventually Azriel grabbed two bowls, dumping the contents of the blender into each bowl. Eris followed Azriel to their table, dropping the cat onto the floor as Azriel placed the bowls on the table.

Eris knew things were going to still be difficult - he missed his mother, the jitters of starting a new job, of essentially starting over. But he looked at the soup, his favorite since childhood, before sitting down and taking a bite.

Things could be difficult tomorrow. Tonight would be easy. He would eat this soup and bask in the company of his boyfriend and his annoying cat.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Azris taglist: @chunkypossum @the-darkestminds @mistandmemories @molcat07

Thanks for reading❣️

[ddejavvu]

bfd!hotch comes to drop off some of your stuff that you'd been asking your bf to but he's been "too busy" to and when he sees you, lounging in the shortest shorts and your bf's shirt (which is actually an old t-shirt of hotch's), he looses his mind

this post is 18+ (and so are its characters), minors dni.

i changed this to ex!bf's dad, and this is not with jack because i could not make him anything other than the sweetest boy in the world </33 this is just an unnamed unspecified character that reader used to be dating!!

Aaron can't believe he's treating you better than his son did. He thought he'd raised the boy right, but apparently his son had run away from him. After finding someone new and cutting all contact with you instead of telling you outright, Aaron's son had then refused to return any of your things, and his breaking point was when he caught the boy's new girlfriend using your leftover facial soap in the bathroom.

So here he is now, a box of your things in his arms as he braces it against the door to ring the buzzer.

When you open it your eyes meet his chest, then trace up to his face like you were expecting someone shorter at the door. Maybe his son. He feels a little guilty that he isn't the boy.

"Oh! Mr. Hotchner," You smile, cocking your head to the side, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Uh, my son still had some of your things," Aaron manages to murmur, but his brain is slowly emptying, reading over the words on the faded t-shirt over your chest: GWU.

Why are you wearing his shirt?

"Oh! Um, thank you," You laugh awkwardly, reaching for the box. Aaron feels guilty by association, and can't imagine how embarrassing it must be for your ex-boyfriend's dad to dump a box of stuff on you.

"Is.. that all?" You raise a brow, watching as Aaron stands aimlessly in your doorway. He blinks, then you notice his eyes are on your chest, and you make the connection with your shirt.

"Oh! Right, my- here," You set the box down, reaching for the hem of the shirt you're wearing and pulling it over your head, "Sorry, I forgot I was wearing his shirt."

Aaron's heart pounds in the split second that you strip the shirt off, and it doesn't slow down when he sees the sports bra beneath. It's perfectly modest, something he'd see a woman jogging in on a hot day, but it's more than he's ever seen of you. And the fact that it had been his shirt concealing the vision he's faced with now? He's starting to feel a little bit like a horny teenager, chubbing up at the sight of boobs.

"Thank you," Aaron reaches for the shirt, "It's- I think this is actually my shirt, he must have grabbed it one day."

"Oh!" Your brows raise and you pick the box up again, "Well, thank you for letting me borrow it. Even if you didn't know I was," You crack a sneaky smile at him, and Aaron can't help but let a kind one slip over his own face.

"It was good seeing you," He hums, and he means it, because the girl traipsing around his house right now is grating on his nerves.

"It was good seeing you too, Mr. Hotchner," You agree after a moment of tense silence, "I- I wish things would have ended differently."

"Me too," Aaron nods, fist tightening around his shirt, "If you ever need anything, Y/N.. You're always welcome to call me. My son might have the moral backbone of a paper straw but I'm not going to turn against you because he did."

You're barely able to stifle a laugh at Aaron's open insult, gazing appreciatively at him, "Thank you. Really, I- I appreciate that. A lot."

Aaron nods, shirt in hand, "Have a good day, Y/N."

The 'You too!' that you offer him as he steps down your walkway rings in his ears well after he gets into his car and drives away. He stalks through his house on autopilot, ignoring both his son and the new girl he's with when they try to half-ass a greeting towards him. He beelines for his room, shutting the door behind him. His back meets the wood of the door as he leans against it, and he finally takes a good look at the shirt in his hands. There's a smear of what he thinks is your makeup on the neckline, and he feels like a depraved teen as he cautiously raises it to his nose. It's like you've drowned it in your scent, a sweet mix of perfume and laundry detergent that he's caught on spare pillows or the couch cushions after you leave.

He locks the door behind him and looks at the shirt like it'll tell him where to put it. When it doesn't, he tosses it onto his bed, hoping that some of the perfume will stick to his pillow.

He heads into the bathroom in a daze, head spinning and fingers heavier than they need to be while flicking the light switch: He needs a shower.

[blood-grove]

— school fights

— dad!ghoap & reader scenario based off my fics here :3

— tws; ofc fighting mentions, injuries , annoying adult (principal)

a/n; this isnt a chapter to odd adjustments just a scenario so pls dont treat this as a next chapter !

Fuck Fuck Fuckkk.

I was so fucking screwed.

But honestly the kid deserved it.

God my fist hurt so damn bad, I just tried rubbing it despite the fact I'm pretty sure I bruised my knuckles pretty badly.

Managed to sock him in the face though god damn it hurt.

I've never really gotten into fights much barely at all really, and it's been good at this school so far.

All into this one fucking kid decided to start fucking up your day for two weeks straight, You didn't even know what you did to cause this.

You weren't the tallest person either which also didn't help your situation Nearly comically shoved in the locker, Always having to quickly rush to your next class just in case the long open hallway would flood and stop up with foot traffic.

The relentless harassment, and the honestly uncreative insults thrown at you.

You just snapped.

John had packed me lunch usually I didn't ask since honestly I never got used to asking for things I felt everything they've gave me so far was enough, I didn't want to be spoiled even though there was a nagging voice saying I wasn't being spoiled.

This sort of parental affection made me feel spoiled, Made me feel like I almost had too much.

The principals voice brought me out of my thoughts.

"Are you listening?!"

No.

"Yes.."

"I've already called both of your parents both of your behaviors were inexcusable- And you? Biting one of your classmates?!"

I slightly flinched.

Yeah I did bite them.

But that was also deserved, I hated this school's stupid no-tolerance policy, Nearly the whole class was there saw it.

They all saw him dump that milk carton on my head my hair still damp, I tried to just walk away but being shoved onto the ground was my final straw as I punched him, and then we were both on the floor he was bigger than me and obviously, And I wasn't made for fighting he had landed a few more hits on me than I had on him.

So I bit him.

Hard.

Then the teachers finally got in threw the small crowd of students and pulled us apart.

"What are you some kind of dog? Do your parents teach you nothing?"

I just stayed silent gripping my pants leg as avoided eye contact, Why was I getting torn into for self-defense? Her shrill voice was getting on my nerves at this point getting to them bad.

I doubted things would go any better if I completely shut down, But eventually, she let up on me and went over to the teary-eyed boy no doubt from my bite of just to gain sympathy I couldn't care.

I just pulled my legs to my chest as he chewed on my lip focused on the ground.

This discussion was just hell, I wanted to throw up, yell, and vomit all once.

We both were getting suspended for a week, You would be put in sperate classes as if that was going to stop any other interaction from happening.

And you were supposed fucking apologize?.

"What?" I spoke up finally as the principal looked over at me Simon looked over at me as well had luckily arrived before the other kids' parent came which would have basically felt like my doom feeling like they were just going to gang up on me and guilt me till he came.

"You bit another student-"

"He dumped milk on me he's been fucking with me for two weeks!"

"Watch your language-"

"I-" I stopped as Simon slightly glanced over at me and I just gave up at that point as I bit my lip nearly crumbling up the apology paper I was given.

I was sniffling quietly by the time we left the office.

"Wait here." Simon finally said something as he headed back into the office leaving me to sit down on a nearby bench as I sniffled tears streaming down my face.

Simon came back out a few minutes later.

"Where's the paper?" Simon looked over at me as I handed him the paper as he just ripped it up tossing it into the trash.

"Why'd you do that?-"

"Do you want to go get ice cream?"

"..Yeah."

"Ow"

"Sorry.." Simon mumbled as he wrapped up my bruised knuckles and hand, My other holding my ice cream cone.

"Well get it wrapped up in ice at home.." I just nodded as he shifted getting up from his crouched position and picking up his own cup of ice cream.

He sat back down and we sat in silince for a while as we ate out ice cream.

"..Are you upset?"

He glanced over at me.

"Yes."

"I-"

"For not telling us you were being bullied."

"Well..I..I just thought.." I just sighed I went quiet looking away I could hear him shift taking another spoonful of ice cream.

"..If it happens again tell me.." I looked over at him as he shifted.

"You don't have to write that apology letter.."

"W-Well you ripped it up so..Yeah I thought so.."

"I'm going to the gym tomorrow.."

He paused as he shifted as he got up to throw away his ice cream cup.

"I want you too come."

"I-..Why..?"

"So I can teach you how to punch someone properly."

a/n; idk what to put here so this is it lmao

[hyckism]

BOX. — five

written part - 556 words

you and renjun return inside the shop, the cool breeze of the air conditioning hitting your face as you open the door. the familiar scent of old paper and ink envelops you, a comforting contrast to the bustling sidewalks outside.

as you walk towards the counter, you freeze. there, standing in the middle of the fiction section, is none other than your ass of an ex, beomgyu. the casual conversation you were holding with renjun cuts and he looks over to you curiously. noticing your silence, he glances over and his expression hardens.

"what's he doing here?" renjun mutters, his voice edged with irritation. you take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

"I don't know," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. renjun marches over to beomgyu, his usual friendly demeanor replaced by a scowl.

"can I help you with something?" he asks, his tone dripping with animosity. beomgyu looks up, a smirk playing on his lips.

"just browsing," he says nonchalantly, his eyes flickering to you. "hello, y/n." renjun steps closer, his posture aggressive. "I think you should leave."

"renjun," you say, placing a hand on his arm to hold him back. "It's okay. i can handle this."

renjun hesitates but eventually steps back, though his glare remains fixed on beomgyu. you take a few steps forward, your gaze locking with your ex's.

"what do you want, beomgyu?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

he chuckles, the sound grating on your nerves. "can't a guy shop for books? and what happened to gyu, huh baby?"

you bite back a retort, remembering how you used to love referring to him with that name, a name he only allowed you to use. "you’ve never picked up a book in your life," you say firmly. "why are you really here?"

he shrugs, his smile never reaching his eyes. "maybe I missed you. maybe I just wanted to see if you were still wasting your time in this dump."

anger flares inside you. "i love it here," you snap. "and i don't need you checking up on me. you ended things, remember?"

Beomgyu's expression darkens. "you’re always so sensitive," he says dismissively. "It's no wonder you're still stuck here."

renjun, unable to stay silent any longer, steps forward again. "that's enough. you've said your piece. now get out."

beomgyu glances between you and renjun, his smirk returning. "whatever. I’ll be back to visit you, when your lap dog isn’t around."

as he turns to leave, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders. renjun's hand finds them, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

"you okay? fuck him, he’s such a dick." he asks softly.

you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. "yeah. thanks for having my back.” you look away warily, “actually i took the subway here and…"

renjun smiles back at you, his eyes warm. "i’ll drive you home when we’re off, you don’t even have to ask,” he reassures. "you know you don’t have to deal with him alone, right?”

you nodded again, though the fear still lingered. the thought of going home after this encounter filled you with dread. what if beomgyu decides to show up at your apartment? the very idea made you feel sick to your stomach.

you retreat to the back pulling out your phone.

previous — masterlist — next

gasp! dramaaaaaaaa😲😲

TAGS ☆ @yyangj3lly @miyawwn @buns-inhiding @axo-l0tl @slayhaechan

[alienguts]

Plasma (Ash Williams x f!Reader)

Summary: Ash comes home covered in blood, Y/N needs to get him cleaned up before he ruins the carpet.

Warnings: Blood (obviously), washing/bathing, fluff

Request?: No

A/N: I've still got the rest of a series to go through and a lot of smut to write, but I felt the need to write this down as soon as the idea popped into my head.

She’d never thought it could be possible, but Y/N could smell Ash before he even walked through the door. The unmistakable stench of iron and rotten flesh forced itself up her nose and made her stomach churn, threatening to bring up her lunch even though it had been hours since she’d eaten. As soon as she heard the lock click, she covered her face with her hand and braced herself for the mess that was about to enter the apartment.

“Honey, I’m ho-ome,” Ash called into the room, giving his best Desi Arnaz as he closed the door behind him and unknowingly smeared blood onto the handle.

He was about to take a step off the front door mat when he noticed Y/N sitting on the sofa with her mouth covered and her eyebrows furrowed.

“What?” he asked. “It can’t be that bad.”

“You smell like a dead body, Ash,” Y/N said, her voice muffled by her hand. She briefly took it away and tried to breathe in but immediately gagged, her stomach lurching. “You’re not stepping a foot into this apartment until you’re out of those clothes.”

“Are you asking me to strip for you?” Ash said, a sultry tone entering his voice. “Because you don’t need to ask me to do that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and stood up from her seat, her hand still over her mouth.

“Don’t get any ideas, I just don’t want you tracking blood on the floor. The landlord will have my ass if it stains.”

Ash gave her a wary look and slowly started to kick his shoes off, watching for what she would do once he started to undress properly.

“Can’t I just get the rest off in the bathroom? It’s my shoes that are the dirtiest,” he said, just as a drop of blood fell from the cuff of his pants and onto the floor.

“Nope, you’re gonna stay on that mat.”

Ash groaned and lifted his feet, unaware of the bloody footprints he left behind. “C’mon, babe! Really, it’s not that bad.” Y/N crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “At least give me a hamper to put them in.”

“Okay, fine, just wait there,” she said and went into the bedroom to get the plastic bucket she used for especially dirty clothes.

As he bent over to take his soaked socks off, Ash noticed the bloody door handle he’d left behind him and shuffled away from the door before he left any more stains behind.

When he’d gone out earlier that night, he didn’t think that he’d come home soaked from head to toe in Deadite blood. He always expected fighting monsters to be a messy ordeal, but once blood and goo got on him he just had to bite his tongue and keep going. Especially when he got brains in his mouth.

He’d felt so strong on the drive home, so manly, and yet here he was standing on a cork doormat the size of a placemat being made to take all his clothes off. His fingers slipped on each button as he tried to undo them and wiping his hands on his clothes didn’t help at all. He was close to just ripping the stupid thing apart when Y/N returned with the hamper for him to dump his soiled clothes into.

“Here, let me help,” she said when she saw him struggling. She cringed as she touched the cold fabric but managed to release each of the buttons with more ease than he could and tugged the bottom of the shirt out of his waistband as he shrugged the sleeves off his shoulders and pulled his arms out.

Once the shirt was off and in the hamper, she moved into the kitchen to grab a roll of paper towels and ripped off a couple of pieces for him to wipe his hands on. And then some more when they soaked right through.

“I can get my pants by myself, honey,” Ash said when she reached for his belt, unbuckling it with ease and making quick work of the button and zipper before pushing his pants to the floor and dropping them in the hamper. “Want my underwear too?”

“Please,” Y/N said as she picked it up and held it out to him. She watched him drag his boxers down his hips and legs before making a show of dropping them into the hamper. “Thank you!”

“Now can I please get away from the door?”

Y/N looked him over, her eyes leisurely trailing from the top of his head down to the soles of his feet. Even though he was covered in blood and dirty and stunk to high heaven, she could have looked at his naked body for the rest of the night. Once she started to feel her eyes water and her nose burn she snapped out of her trance.

“Okay, go take a shower,” she said finally. “I’ll deal with these clothes.”

Ash sighed as he padded off to the bathroom, thankfully not leaving any bloody footprints as he went. Y/N placed the hamper in the kitchen sink and twisted the faucet until the water ran cold. She filled the basket until the clothes were completely submerged and swirled them around so that the blood could soak out of them properly.

Meanwhile, Ash shut the bathroom door behind him and reached into the tub to turn the water on as hot as he could get it. As he waited for the room to steam up, he unscrewed his metal hand from his wrist, removed it, and placed it in the sink to be cleaned later. He breathed in the steam and let it out slowly, rolling his tired shoulders and stretching his neck from side to side.

As frustrated as he was about how the night had gone, he couldn’t help but be grateful that Y/N took his clothes for him and washed them while he cleaned himself up. If he was still on his own he would have been stuck with bloodstained clothes, ruined shoes, and a shower that had pitiful water pressure. He kept that thought in his mind as he stepped up into the tub and stood under the shower head. The water was scalding hot and he knew he would be bright pink once he got out, but he’d worry about that later. He just needed to get clean and relaxed.

Once he couldn’t take the temperature anymore, Ash turned the heat down until the water was just comfortable to stand under and let it wash the blood and dirt from his skin. A cut on his left bicep that he’d ignored until then throbbed as it was cleaned and he winced when he moved the arm to pick up his washcloth from the shower caddy and draped it over his right wrist.

Just as he’d started to lather up the washcloth with soap, he heard the shower curtain move aside.

“Need some help?” Y/N asked, standing completely nude at the side of the tub.

“Please,” Ash sighed as he helped her in. 

She took the cloth from him and used it to wipe the blood away from his face, starting at the centre of his face and moving out with gentle strokes. He relaxed into her hands as she wiped him clean, being careful to not get the soap in his eyes before letting him turn into the shower spray to wash it away.

Once his face and neck were clean, she moved down to his shoulders, lightly squeezing and massaging any knots she could find in his muscles. When she moved down to his arms she noticed the cut and took care to be as gentle as she could with it.

“Sorry, honey,” she said when he winced and tensed his muscles. “Did one of them.. Y’know?”

“No,” he said as he shook his head. “It’s just a scratch, I’ll be fine.”

“I still want to bandage it up,” she said before softly kissing just above the cut.

They must have spent half an hour in the bathroom together, Y/N helping Ash to wash his hair and parts of his back that he couldn’t reach, and Ash returning the favour even when she said she didn’t need any help. By the time the water started to run cold and the bottom of the tub had turned from red to white, they were both squeaky clean and ready to get out.

“Ugh, I needed that after the night I’ve had,” Ash groaned when they were both dry and wearing pyjamas. “And the day I’ve had.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Retail is an absolute hellscape, sweetheart,” he said as he ran his hand through his wet hair. “Just be glad that you don’t work in it.”

“My work gets tough too, but you’ve gotta be tough for your job,” Y/N said as they made their way back to the living room together. “Both of them.”

Ash threw himself onto the sofa and almost melted into it with a deep sigh. “All I want right now is to eat dinner and get baked.”

“I had a feeling you would say that earlier today, so I ordered in.”

“You ordered dinner?” Ash asked, sitting up in his seat. 

“Not just dinner,” Y/N said as she grabbed her purse from next to the sofa and pulled out a tiny Ziploc bag that was full of tiny green leaves.

“Now this is why I love you,” he said with a huge grin as he stood up to take her in his arms. “You get me food, weed, and you take care of me. What else could a guy need?”

“That’s all fine and well, but you remember the deal.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do the same for you when you have a bad day,” he said as he took the bag, already racing to get his rolling papers and a lighter, ready to spend the rest of the night in a dope-induced haze.

[motherofdogs1010]

Need to Know II (Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: When she was ready to get back out on the dating scene after dumping a certain Winter Soldier, Y/N was a woman ready to get back out there. She just never expected to find herself in a relationship with a certain nerdy spider. Warnings: Reader is basically Penelope Garcia, toxic ex! Bucky, fratboy!Peter, older woman/younger man, age gap relationship, mentions of ageism, eventual pregnancy Dividers by @firefly-graphics Banner by @vase-of-lilies

Part I

Present Day

To say that Y/N ever thought she'd be in a relationship with someone younger than her, she would be lying if she said she did. She had never expected to find herself in a relationship where she was the older one, but here she was, laying on her Cal King bed as she watched Peter type away on his computer, writing a paper for one of his robotics classes.

Peter let out a frustrated groan before closing his laptop and falling down beside her, Y/N looked at him with a amused look on his face.

"This professor makes me regret going to college", Peter groaned, Y/N chuckled.

"You're just overthinking yourself", Y/N said as she scratched his head. "You'll do great, remember, it's your last year."

"Between school and being Spider-man, sometimes I feel burnt out", Peter said.

"You'll do great", Y/N repeated as Peter practically purred at the head scratches. “Once you’re done, you’ll be able to work with Tony like he promised and you won’t be so stressed out juggling everything.”

"How did you even become a technical analyst for the Avengers anyways? It's kinda random because you popped up out of nowhere."

"I hacked into the government's system and got on their watchlist, which led me to eventually hacking into FRIDAY for fun one day."

Peter looked at her and she shrugged but it was the truth; hacking and such had always been her thing and eventually led to her being sought out by Tony himself after she may have hacked into his system for shits and giggles.

"Well, that explains everything", Peter said, "can you hack into my professor's computer?"

"I could, but it'd ruin the pardon Tony got me", Y/N pouted, "but for you, I'd risk it."

She leaned over to Peter and planted a kiss on his lips, and Peter chuckled at her comment.

"Alright, maybe let's not send you to federal prison", Peter joked, "but you wanna go down to Delmar's and get sandwiches?"

Y/N nodded, "I just have to shower first."

As she begun to get up from the bed, she looked at Peter and said, "Wanna come shower with me?"

"Babe, if I ever say no, take me to Bruce because there's something clearly wrong with me."

With a giggle, Peter chased her to the bathroom.

After a steamy shower session that lasted longer than it probably should have, Peter was taking a quick call from his best friend, Ned, who had been accepted and was attending MIT before they left to Delmar's. Y/N decided to wait in the kitchen, walking in to see Wanda and Vision making brownies.

"Hey guys", Y/N said as she sat down at one of the kitchen island chairs.

"Oh hey Y/N", Wanda smiled as she mixed the batter.

"Hello Y/N", Vision greeted as he watched Wanda mix the batter.

"Venturing Vision's culinary skills to baking?" Y/N asked, Vision nodded and Wanda laughed.

"Where are you off to?" Wanda teased, "Peter whisking you away somewhere?"

So far, a majority of the Avengers seemed to be alright with her relationship with Peter, ignoring the age gap between the two of them.

Well, nearly all of them...

"We're going to Delmar's", Y/N replied back.

"Oh! Bring me back a sandwich", Wanda chimed.

"Will do", Y/N said, "hey, where is everyone?"

"Steve and Sam went on another run, Nat and Clint are on a quick recon mission", Vision replied.

The sound of shrill laughter boomed into their ears and Y/N saw Wanda wince and shake her head at the noise while she was mouthing 'wow' to herself.

Y/N knew who that laughter belonged to and she couldn't help, but want to laugh at it all.

"Oh, Y/N, I didn't think you'd be here."

Looking over her shoulder, Y/N raised a brow to the person who spoke in a condescending tone.

Dot or Dottie as she heard Bucky call the blonde haired woman stood in the entrance of kitchen, popping a piece of bubblegum loudly while her phone was in her hand. If Y/N was being honest, her relationship with Bucky had been on the rocks for a while before Dot, but Dot was the final nail in the coffin to end her relationship.

And at one point, Y/N would have felt some form of bitterness towards Dot's presence, but now, she felt nothing but annoyance at the woman's persistent need to try and one up for some reason or another.

"Why wouldn't I be here? I live here", Y/N replied in a confused tone.

"I figured you'd be... rocking the cradle and all", Dot said with a smirk.

Y/N wanted to groan at the jab towards her relationship with Peter, it was Dot's biggest thing to constantly bring up.

"It's robbing the cradle", Peter interjected as he walked into the kitchen. "Not that it applies to us

Peter walked over to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders before pressing a kiss to her temple. Y/N noticed Dot's eyes hyper-fixated on Peter as Peter greeted Wanda and Vision but Y/N knew that were Dot was, Bucky was soon following and Y/N was not in the mood for dealing with the man.

"Ready, babe?" Peter asked as Y/n saw Vision look at the brownie batter.

"Yup", Y/n said as she slid out of the chair.

"Aren't you a little too old to be wearing that?" Dot asked, Y/N frowned.

Her and Dot were the same age and Y/n wore a yellow sundress since it was humid this time of year in New York. Y/N raised a eyebrow at Dot and glanced at Wanda, who rolled her eyes at Dot's comment.

"Nope", Y/n said, looking at the dress. "But you might wanna apply that logic to yourself, Dottie. We're the same age after all."

Dot frowned as Y/n got up from her seat, feeling Peter wrap an arm around her waist as he began to led them away fro the kitchen.

Y/N looked at Peter amused as he told her about his squished sandwich theory, a smile on her face as he explained that it made the sandwich taste better. Wanda had happily taken her sandwich, running away to continue watch Modern Family in her and Vision's room.

That left her and Peter in the living room, watching Ahsoka on Disney+.

"Man, I want to buy her lightsaber", Peter whined, "it looks so cool."

"It's a nice lightsaber", she agreed with a chuckle. "Personally, I want Darth Maul's."

"That's a huge one", Peter said, "they literally have to assemble it in parts."

"But imagine how intimidating it would be", she argued.

"Now what are you two lovebirds talking about", Tony chimed as he walked in.

"Lightsabers", Peter answered with a grin.

Tony and Peter began talking about some upgrades for his suit when her phone vibrated, she grasped it from under her and saw it was a text from Bucky. She wished she could block him, but since he was a member of the Avengers, she couldn't since she was a asset for them.

Opening the text, she frowned as a slew of texts began coming in.

She rolled her eyes and put her phone away from her as she hit 'DO NOT DISTURB'. She wasn't sure why Bucky had been like this, sending texts like this but she hoped he got the message soon as Tony said he was leaving to take Pepper on a date, allowing them to go back to their show.

Y/N relaxed back into Peter's embrace, laying her head on his shoulder without a care. She felt happy, even if she hadn't expected it to be with someone younger than her as Peter kissed the top of her head before she connected their lips together.

It was their monthly Avengers get-together over at the Compound, everyone dressed in their nicest clothes as Tony held a nice fancy dinner. Y/N wore a backless cocktail dress that she had a hard time convincing Peter he could not mess with until after the party was over, although, she had a hard time keeping herself from Peter with his rolled up sleeves that showcased his arms.

Right now, they were all scattered around the room; Nat was working the bar for some reason or another.

"Hey there Tech Queen", Nat said as Y/N approached her. "Where's your other half?"

"Talking science with Strange and Tony", she shrugged with a grin. "Not sure if I trust you behind the bar, Nat. You make the drinks as strong as Asgardian liquor."

Nat laughed just as Steve walked up to them, he kissed the side of Nat's head.

"What are you two laughing about?" he asked.

"Nat's bartending", Y/N answered, Steve winced.

"Yeah, maybe let's not", Steve said, Nat laughed and waved him off.

Y/N looked around to see Carol engaged in some form of arm wrestle with Thor, Sam watching the two, Wanda was conversing with Pepper, Peter still with Strange and Tony, and Bruce and Rhodey talking.

She wasn't sure where Vision was, knowing him he was probably phasing through some walls or something.

"Here, drink this", Nat said with a grin.

"Oh no", Y/N said with a smile. "I don't trust you with making drinks. Last time I had one, I--"

"Yeah, Y/N, do tell us what happened last time you had one."

Her mood was killed, instantly as she noticed Bucky had arrived. Her face said it all as Nat frowned at the man, she noticed even Steve frowning.

"Did this conversation involve you?" Y/N sassily said with a raised brow. "I believe this was a A,B, and C conversation."

"Oh, I was just wondering if the last time Nat made you a drink, you maybe did some things that you regret… or someone.”

"No, no regrets here", Y/N said as she looked at her nails.

Bucky was beginning to look like he had sucked on a lemon by his facial expression just as she felt a pair of arms around her, looking over her shoulder to see Peter.

"Mr. Barnes", Peter cooly said.

"Parker", Bucky gritted.

Y/N saw Nat taking a amused slip of her drink.

"Dateless tonight?" Peter asked with a smirk.

"Just for tonight", Bucky grumbled.

"Huh, how... unfortunate for you", Peter said with false sympathy. "If you don't mind, well, I know you won't."

Peter gestured for them to leave a fuming Bucky and a very amused Natasha to be dealt with by Steve.

Later, Y/N wrapped her arms around Peter's neck and he pulled her closer to her; Peter began to sway them with a grin on his face as she playfully shook her head at him, a grin making its way onto her face.

"Have I told you that you're pretty?" Peter asked.

"Not today, I don't think", she teased as Peter bumped their noses.

"What kind of boyfriend am I then?" Peter teased.

She felt happy with Peter, their relationship felt easy and uncomplicated as Peter connected their lips, squeezing her body a little as he tried to bring her in closer.

[scoops-aboy86]

This is a belated happy birthday fic for @whimsicalwadewinstonwilson! Chubby Steve fluff, with a little bit of stuffing and spice thrown in at the end. 😘

Eddie watches blearily from his hospital bed as Steve, hands on his hips, bickers with Dustin over what is and what isn’t appropriate hospital visit etiquette. Namely, “You can’t just try to hug a guy who just got out of major surgery, dipshit!” 

It’s absolutely the drugs—Eddie hasn’t asked what he’s on yet, it’s sure as shit the good stuff though—but all that’s running through his head right now is, I’m gonna marry that man. 

He’s been trying to convince himself not to fall for Steve Harrington for years, ever since he’d accidentally caught a school swim meet and nearly wiped out walking into a trash can at the sight of so much mole-speckled skin on display. Seeing that again in the Upside Down’s muted lighting while Steve killed one of those bat things with his bare hands, even obscured by grime and blood and the most luxurious chest hair that Eddie has ever personally witnessed, seems to have sealed the deal. 

“Steeeve,” he whines, interrupting their argument. “I want a hug. From you,” he adds quickly, then points a finger in Dustin’s general direction. “Not you, Henderson. You’re not my type.”

Steve’s face goes red while Dustin snorts in half-offended amusement. Three minutes later Eddie has somehow persuaded Steve to lay down in the bed with him—carefully, because Eddie is still connected to a lot of stuff—and cuddle up. He tells Dustin in his best ‘benevolent lord’ voice to “fetch grapes so that I might feed this beautifully warm vision of loveliness by hand” and the kid actually leaves the room, though god only knows if he’ll honor the request. 

“Are you sure this doesn’t hurt?” Steve asks for the third or the twentieth time. “You nearly died, man, I don’t want to… squish you or whatever.”

With a hum, Eddie tugs him closer. (Or tries, anyway. At the moment he has all the strength of a newborn kitten, but it’s the thought that counts.) “Sweet Stevie, jewel of my heart,” he says, and part of him does know that he’s going to be incredibly embarrassed about this later but for now Steve isn’t telling him to fuck off and that’s glorious, “you could never squish me. Your presence sustains me. With you at my side, Death himself can’t help but agree that I’m already safely tucked away in heaven and destined to forever thrive in the glow of your light.”

The way Steve blinks at him, face flushed and lips slightly parted like he’s trying to think of a reply but coming up empty, is perfect. Eddie coos and kisses his forehead, and Steve shifts to hide his burning face against Eddie’s shoulder, heat bleeding through the paper-thin hospital gown. But he doesn’t get up, is the important thing. 

To Eddie’s surprise (and only half because he’d forgotten in his muddled state, thank you very much) Dustin returns with an armload of vending machine snacks. “Steve doesn’t like grapes,” he announces, and dumps the snacks over the blanket next to Eddie’s non-Steve side. “I brought some stuff he does like. Don’t pull any stitches or I’ll tell Robin you’re trying to steal her boyfriend.”

Steve snorts into Eddie’s shoulder, mumbling low enough that only Eddie can hear, “Wouldn’t want that.” But he lets Eddie feed him pop tarts and pringles and various candy bars for the next hour, or whenever Eddie dozes off again in another post-op nap. 

~

“Dustin sent me in here to break up a love fest,” Robin says as she enters the room, smirk quickly changing to raised eyebrows as she takes in the scene on the bed and, just as quickly, shutting the door behind herself. “Which I didn’t expect to actually find, wow.”

Steve, wrapped up in Eddie’s sleeping embrace, rolls his eyes. “He wanted to feed me grapes.”

“Uh huh,” she replies slowly, taking in the scattered wrappers. “But you don’t like grapes.”

“Only when they’re room temperature and squishy, but that’s not the point, Rob.” He tries to shift, only for Eddie’s weak grip on him to tighten a little. Immediately, he freezes, but the other man just hums in his sleep and settles back down. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits, looking back up to his best friend with deer-in-the-headlights eyes. 

“Because you’re stuck in the grip of a metalhead koala?”

Steve gives a tiny shake of his head against Eddie’s shoulder, where he’s obligingly curled into the man’s side. “Because it’s nice,” he whispers.

“Oh, Steve…”

~

The next several months as Eddie recovers are… interesting. Since his uncle is staying in the local motel and Steve’s parents have all but washed their hands of Hawkins, it’s agreed that Eddie should stay at the Harrington house. As soon as someone floats the idea, Steve is quick to tell him that there’s a first floor guest room with an en-suite and his name on it. 

Wayne comes over whenever Steve has to be at work; the plant was destroyed in the earthquake but Family Video, for all its faults, is somehow still standing, and goddamn if people don’t want their hot and cold running entertainment after surviving a ‘natural disaster.’ At night, though, Steve stays in Eddie’s room out of concern that he might not hear the bell he’s given to Eddie to ring whenever he needs something. He’s not that heavy a sleeper, for the most part—not anymore, with the nightmares and the headaches and the difficulty sleeping alone—but it eases something in him to know that Eddie is right there, alive and breathing. 

Eddie, for his part, never stops asking Steve to help keep him warm. At first it was still the drugs, which absolutely did a number on his impulse control. But weaning off of them seemed to only make him more clingy, just… in an irritable way, which Steve figures is fair. His own bites itch like hell while healing up; Eddie has it way worse, the constant prickle of healing skin and deeper injuries. 

One day when Eddie is snapping at everything, Steve starts to ask, “Do you want me to get you more—”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Eddie barks, glaring at first but then rubbing both hands over his face with a groan. “It’s a slippery slope from ‘use as needed’ to ‘use whenever the fuck you feel like getting high,’ Steve. I’ve seen it. I’m not gonna do what my parents did to me to you and Wayne.”

They’re both quiet for a long moment after that, Eddie avoiding eye contact while Steve tries earnestly to make it. 

“Okay,” Steve says finally, and settles back down. He’s at Eddie’s side again, on what’s steadily becoming his side of the bed because Eddie has started exasperatedly telling him to just come lay down whenever he starts to nod off in the armchair in the corner. 

Eddie’s eyes flick over, catch on his. It still amazes him every time that Steve is willing to get this close, given Eddie’s public record as a freak, a drug dealer, and a three-time high school senior. And, last but not least, the actually very true rumors about his sexuality, can’t forget that! He keeps waiting for the bubble to pop and Steve to announce that enough is enough, but it keeps not happening. 

Not sure what else to do, Eddie pushes a corner of the grilled cheese Steve had made for him against the other man’s lips until he takes a bite. And another. Steve makes him take at least one bite to each of his two, and between them they gradually make their way through the sandwich, several Yoohoos, and various snacks. 

~

“He said he’s not going to do that ‘to you and Wayne.’ How come he said me first? Does that mean anything or was it just because I was in the room with him?” Steve says into the phone, and pops another Pringles chip into his mouth. With Eddie constantly pushing food on him for some reason, he’s gotten in the habit of snacking even when his charge is taking a midday nap. 

“Steve,” Robin sighs. “I mean this in the least chauvinist way possible, but you sound like a teenage girl right now despite being literally neither of those things. But I’ve gotta tell you, like I told my friend Becky when she was desperate for Adam Hurley to notice her…” She sighs again. “From the depths of my soul, I do not know.”

Groaning, he lets his head thunk against the wall next to the phone. “You’re supposed to be my gay wingwoman here, Birdie. I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“And you think I do?! Steve, you’ve kissed thousands—”

He makes a wounded noise. 

“—Hundreds?”

He groans again. 

“Whatever! You’ve kissed a lot of girls and I have kissed zero, despite wanting to very, very much. You’ve kissed zero boys, and guess what! That’s also my number, and I have no desire to ever let it go any higher. My fields of expertise are so far away it’s not even on this map.”

Steve lifts his head again with a sigh. “Unless you need kissing practice before a big date,” he offers absently while running a hand through his hair. 

“That is—No, Steve, no. That’s not a thing. Who have you practiced kissing with?”

“Uh, Tommy, when he was trying to get the balls to ask Carol out the first time.” He pauses, thinking. “And the second. Apparently he underperformed.”

“Oh my god. First of all, oh my god you have kissed a boy, so shut up. Second, oh my god is that not a heterosexual thing to do with your guy friends, I can’t believe it took you so long to realize you might be bi. Third, oh my god Steve.”

He’s almost snickering at her by the time she’s done, audibly flailing and dramatic in a way that eases the anxiety twisting his stomach. (And another stack of Pringles helps too.) 

~

With Eddie still needing help when it comes to… bathroom activities, there isn’t a lot of either of them that the other hasn’t seen. It just doesn’t really occur to Steve that this goes both ways until he first starts realizing that the swim trunks he dons for helping Eddie in the shower—basically he’s a glorified safety bar, with his eyes fixed on the ceiling except for when he helps wash Eddie’s everything from the shoulders up—are getting a little snug. 

Kind of a lot snug, actually, and when did that happen?

Steve ponders this long after noticing it. Hair dry and camped out on the couch, watching some nerdy fantasy movie with puppets that he’d brought home from work because he’d thought Eddie might like it. Meanwhile, Eddie is stretched out over most of the couch with his head pillowed on Steve’s thigh, completely enthralled. But that isn’t stopping him from occasionally holding up the snack cake in his hand for Steve to take a bite. Or a handful of buttery popcorn. Or some of the Twizzlers that Eddie doesn’t even like, they’re Steve’s favorite. Or or or. 

Eddie is always feeding him, is the thing. Especially after they’ve smoked up, which they have today. (Hawkins’ premier dealer might have been forced into early retirement, but Argyle is amazingly generous with his stash.) And Steve keeps letting it happen because, really, he gets it. Going from independent to needing help with literally everything is a pretty big blow; he knows that from all the times he’s been looked after post-concussions, getting frustrated with all the hovering even though he understands why it’s necessary. So while Steve is taking care of Eddie, if Eddie wants to balance that out a little by taking care of him in some way, fair enough. Steve is all for whatever keeps him from being a cranky patient, because he gets the feeling that an Eddie actively trying to be difficult is not something he wants to endure. 

And it’s… It’s nice. This might be the rose colored glasses of his awkward and embarrassing crush on the guy talking, but Steve likes Eddie’s little attempts to take care of him. 

“Mountain Dew?” Eddie asks, shifting his head and holding up his can with the bright red crazy straw in the shape of a guitar. Steve had seen it at Melvalds, next to a blue one in the shape of a race car, and bought both on a whim. The latter is still in his empty Coke can on the coffee table; he hadn’t wanted to disturb Eddie by getting up just to grab another one. 

“Thanks,” Steve says genuinely, because the saltiness of the popcorn has really made him thirsty. It’s nice to think that Eddie noticed, even if it might just be a coincidence. 

~

It’s not a coincidence.

Eddie wants Steve to be able to relax. Sure, he’s the one who nearly died, but he’d only had to deal with the Upside Down for a week before supergirl ended things for good; Steve has been living with this for years. It’s stamped into the nightmares that Eddie knows Steve gets too, and the way he goes far away and thoughtful sometimes, and the nailbat that goes in the umbrella stand by the door when he’s home, the trunk of the beemer when he’s not. 

So Eddie pays attention to what Steve likes and makes sure he gets it. Snacks, extras, and treats. Weed to take the edge off every once in a while; if it also keeps Eddie from crawling out of his skin on days when the pain gets bad, so much the better. And asking Steve to make heavier dishes (because Eddie’s doctor recommended rich meals to build his strength back up) at the end of the day means they both have a heavier sleep, fewer bad dreams. 

When the signs of all those indulgences start to show on Steve’s body, Eddie welcomes them. They share a bed every night now, and often Eddie wakes first just to linger against Steve next to him, lightly run both hands over his friend’s softer torso, and smile dreamily to himself because it’s a reminder that all the awful shit is over and done. 

Which is why he also pretends to still be asleep on the mornings when Steve wakes with a jolt and surreptitiously checks him over for open wounds. Steve was the one who held his bleeding, ruined body together on the frantic drive between the former Munson trailer and the hospital; it left an indelible mark. That’s why they spend so much time together, Eddie figures. All that trauma bonding is powerful shit. 

And also, his continent-sized crush.  Which he’s trying to rein in, but honestly? He really does want the Greco-Roman fantasy of lounging around feeding grapes to Steve Harrington. Firm ones, still fridge-cold, because that’s how Steve likes them. And day by day, Steve seems more and more open to just. Letting him do that. 

It’s driving Eddie crazy. When the tips of his fingers touch Steve’s lips, he has to wrestle down the urge to slide them inside, wet them, slide them slickly over the other man’s skin on the way to grabbing his chin and pulling him into a kiss. When he rests his head on Steve’s lap for movie time, reveling in how those already bitable thighs are becoming even more comfortable beneath him, it’s all he can do not to forget the movie and roll over to nuzzle at Steve’s growing belly, to say ‘Look at this. Look at us. We’re safe now, it’s okay, you can keep letting go. I like it.’

But alas, they’re not an ‘us.’ And Eddie doesn’t feel physically up to the task of rolling over without help. And Steve is probably straight. 

~

“Steve’s straight, right?” Eddie asks Robin bluntly one night, in the gap between movies while the man in question is in the kitchen making more popcorn and heating up Bagel Bites and jalapeno poppers. It’s not going to take long, so he doesn’t have the time to beat around the bush.

Robin blinks at him. “What?”

“Because I’m not,” he continues, popping carefully up on his elbows to see her better in the easy chair across from the couch. His pulse picks up a little because he doesn’t exactly have a lot of practice coming out—but between a recent near death experience and Robin pinging his gaydar, he can soldier through. “And you know how we’re living in each other’s pockets right now, I know you’ve seen it and there’s no way the two of you haven’t talked about it because you live in each others’ brains. It’s kind of killing me to not know if it means anything. So if he’s one hundred percent, not even slightly on the fence, not even within sight of the fence, please, as one Upside Down survivor to another, please tell me right now so I can back off and give my heart a break. And please never tell him I asked because if the answer is no I will make absolutely sure it’s not a big deal. I don’t want to fuck things up by being off-base about this. Okay? Just, hurry up and just tell me because he’ll be back in any second, Birdie, please.”

It’s a word-vomit worthy of… well, the person he just unloaded it on. But to her credit, she only stares at him for another moment before fully processing it all and un-dropping her jaw. 

“I’m not either,” Robin says in a low voice, “and Steve knows, and he’s cool with it. Officially, that’s all I can say.”

Eddie grits his teeth against an impatient groan. “And unofficially?”

Her eyes flick towards the kitchen and back, mouth twisted in conflicted thought. “... He is aware of the fence,” she says finally, quietly, and as much as it looks like it pains her to betray that confidence, Eddie can also tell she’s holding back a smile. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers half to himself, not bothering to restrain his own smile at the prospect of having even a sliver of a chance. A few months ago he would have considered that wholly impossible, right up there with alternate dimensions brimming with eye-less creatures full of teeth and malice controlled by a ballsack-looking evil mind wizard.

It’s funny, the effect a little perspective can have. 

He’s still propped up and grinning like a maniac when Steve comes back in with snacks, setting a plate and the popcorn bowl with another plate stacked atop it on the coffee table before sitting down with a quiet grunt. “What’s with you?” Steve asks, even while absently patting his thigh for Eddie to lay back down. 

Eddie happily obliges, in no small part because Steve is wearing shorts juuust short enough that leg hair tickles his nose when he snuggles his face in. “Oh, you know me. A mood struck.”

Robin, already reaching for the popcorn, snorts. If they had that same apparently psychic link that she has with Steve, he’s pretty sure she’d be broadcasting ‘Nice save, weirdo’ and a heavy eye roll at him right now. Or she might be anyway, because it’s coming through loud and clear. 

But in an amused way, he thinks. The power of lesbian-gay solidarity.

“Anyway,” Eddie continues, reaching for a Bagel Bite and blowing on it to cool it enough that he can feed to Steve, “what are we watching next?”

~

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie whispers that night, and Steve, though already halfway to asleep, is instantly on alert. 

“Huh, yeah?” he asks with a yawn, starting to sit up. It feels like he’s moving through molasses. “Do you need your meds? Or like… new pillow?” 

“No man, just wanna tell you something.”

Oh. He lets his body drop gracelessly back down, like a puppet with his strings cut. Thank fuck, because if he’d had to walk somewhere in this weird half-asleep, half-addrenaline-buzzed state he probably would’ve run into some doorframes. “M’kay, shoot.”

In the dark, Eddie chuckles at him. “You really are an action first, figure it out later kinda guy, aren't ya?” There’s a shuffling noise, and Steve feels a fun sized candy bar from Eddie’s bedside table being pressed into his hand. Presumably as an apology for startling him from almost-sleep. “Listen, uh… I came out to Robin earlier today, and she came out to me and said you know too. Figured I should keep you in the loop. So… I’m gay.” And even though there’s not enough light in the room, Steve can tell he’s doing something showy with his hands, a silent ‘ta-daaa.’ It’s very Eddie. 

Steve unwraps the candy on autopilot and puts it in his mouth to keep his heart from leaping up his throat. He may be new to the whole being into guys thing himself, but it’s a good sign that his crush at least has the capacity to like him back. He’d been worried about that, no matter what Robin had to say about vibes. But, hey, it turns out she’s right—which he fully intends to use against her when it comes to Vicky, because who’s to say he isn’t right about Robin’s crush too? Maybe that’s why they were destined to become soulmates with a capital P, because on their own they’re hopeless but together they at least have each other’s backs.

“Oh,” he says belatedly, remembering he’s supposed to actually respond to something like this. (“Steve? You OD over there?”) “Thanks for telling me, man. That’s really cool.”

Eddie chuckles again, gentle and close. “Not really the popular opinion around these parts, but I appreciate the sentiment, Stevie.”

“No, I mean… it’s cool that you told me,” he whispers back. He’s blushing, and wonders if Eddie can tell. Because it’s dark, but maybe it comes through in his voice, or something? And they’re so close, Eddie is always burrowing into personal space left and right like it’s a mere suggestion—not that Steve minds, he’s just not sure if it means anything. He hasn’t known Eddie long enough, or in more context than either having the worst week of his life or bedridden, to be able to tell. “And, like, that’s cool by me, in case you were worried.”

It makes him feel trustworthy, when he knows that three years ago he wouldn’t have been. Not with something like this. 

It makes him feel like the least he can do is show the same confidence in Eddie. 

“I, um.” Steve clears his throat. The taste of chocolate is thick on his tongue, sweet like a promise. “I’m bisexual.”

In the long pause that follows, Steve wishes that he’d waited for daylight, or even just rolled briefly to one side to turn on a lamp. He should’ve waited until he could see the other man’s face and maybe brace himself in whatever reaction flickered there first. It’s the same impulse that had sent him sliding beneath the partition between stalls in the Starcourt bathroom when he’d told Robin he liked her; she hadn’t answered right away and he’d needed to see—

“Ow! Sorry, needed to pinch myself there,” Eddie whispers, sounding like it does when he hides behind his hair—but in the good way, Steve’s pretty sure. “Really?”

Despite the dark and the blush on his face, that makes Steve crack a smile. “Yeah. Girls and guys.”

Their arms bump, a deliberate move on Eddie’s part since rolling over to face him requires too many of the muscles that were chewed on by bats, would mean putting pressure on the healing skin grafts on his side. “Any guys in particular?”

Which makes Steve’s breath catch in his throat because… he hadn’t expected Eddie to ask, let alone in such a hopeful tone. 

Because, sure, Eddie just told him he’s gay. That doesn’t mean he likes Steve, the same way Steve’s reputation of liking any girl that walks and talks is complete bullshit. First of all, there’s that reputation. Second, they have nothing in common except living space, the kids, and a few near death experiences. Third—and this one really makes Steve want to squirm—he doesn’t exactly look his best these days. There are the scars, and the way he’s been putting on weight lately that pulls awkwardly at the puckered skin, making irregular stretch marks bloom in weird, unpredictable squiggles and curves. He’s getting a belly, something he’d kind of half figured out was inevitable based on his dad and the story told across years of professionally taken family photos, but it’s coming in about a decade sooner than he’d expected. He’s only twenty but looks like he’d imagined he would at thirty; has already had to size up his clothes a couple times and everything.

Well. At least with Eddie close by every night he’s been sleeping fairly well, so the bags under his eyes aren’t as dark and deep as they had been. And none of the men in his family, either side, have receding hairlines, so at least his best feature is safe. 

“Just one,” he murmurs, blood roaring in his ears.

“Yeah?”

And Steve has never been one to hold back, so he takes a deep breath. Figures they’re close enough friends now that even if Eddie doesn’t feel the same way, he’ll be more flattered than weirded out and they’ll be able to get past it. Hopefully, anyway… Steve has too few friends his own age as it is. 

“I kinda have a crush on you, Eds.”

After a short pause, Eddie shifts a little next to him and—

“Ow!” Steve hisses, twitching his arm away from the sudden pinch. He’s still whispering, even though there’s no one else in the house. “Dude, what the hell?!”

“Sorry,” Eddie whispers back. “I needed to make sure you aren’t asleep before I accidentally made things super uncomfortable.”

“How would you—” And then he feels a tug, the other man’s hand fisting in his sleep shirt and pulling him closer. Not that Eddie has the arm strength to actually do that right now, but it’s such a surprise that Steve just goes with it, leaning over until their mouths bump together in the dark. 

It’s a whole new kind of shock, a bucket of ice water and hot sparks flickering along his spine, zinging nerves and chapped lips. Steve gasps into the fumbling press of lips, sways back, then ducks forward in a more coordinated effort and kisses Eddie for real. Sinks into the moment as a hand, ringless for the night, twines into the hair at the base of his skull, blunt nails scratch lightly at his scalp as Eddie curls his fingers into Steve’s hair, and it’s… it’s everything. 

He has to be careful not to sag into the kiss, mindful of Eddie’s injuries even though he wants to sink in closerthanthis and never leave. Can’t remember the last time something so simple lit him up like this, because everything but the immediate present is blurred out, insignificant. And Eddie’s other hand finds his hip, pressing in where he’s gotten softer but tugging weakly, undeterred. Steve takes the hint and shifts until he’s cautiously plastered to the other man’s side. 

“This okay?” he breathes against Eddie’s lips, still close enough to taste the traces of chocolate that Eddie sucked off his tongue. “Am I hurting you?”

“Not hurting. You’re healing me, baby,” Eddie coos into his mouth and guides him back in for more.

~

The next morning Eddie wakes to breakfast in bed. It’s not an unusual occurrence, but instead of propped up on pillows against the headboard, he leans happily back against Steve while he eats chocolate chip pancakes and feeds him two bites for every one of his own. 

“They’re supposed to be for you,” Steve tries to protest, the first time Eddie nudges a syrup-sticky forkful against his lips. 

“And I’m enjoying them a lot, sweetheart,” Eddie replies with a smile. “But you made me a stack that’s practically two feet tall and I am but one man. So be a dear and help me out here, hmm? I’ll even throw in a smooch to sweeten the deal.”

Steve mutters something about his sweet tooth being taken advantage of here, but accepts a bite without the next time Eddie brings it in, this time with a little vroom vroom here comes the airplane. Smiling around the sticky mouthful and protesting in a muffled, faux-aggrieved tone that, “Planes don’ go vroom Ed, tha’s cars.”

Grinning so wide it makes the scar on his cheek pull, not exactly comfortable but he doesn’t care, Eddie gives Steve the promised smooch. Like their first kiss last night, he tastes like chocolate. 

“Shush,” he chides playfully, licking at Steve’s sticky lips. “You’re mine now, Steve Harrington. I’m gonna take as good care of you as you do of me, and I’m gonna marry you someday.”

“O-oh.” Steve blushes. The sight of red filling in behind his constellations of freckles and moles is captivating. 

“Yeah, oh.” Eddie kisses him again. “You just wait until I’m all healed up, big boy, and I’ll show you how hard I can rock your world. Trust me, you’ll want to keep me around and once you get the full Eddie Munson experience.”

Despite still being visibly flustered, Steve swallows and shakes his head at him with a laugh. “Okay okay, Jesus. Put the lines away, you’ve already got me.”

“Yeah? You promise?”

Steve returns the kiss with a happy hum, lets Eddie pepper more kisses on his cheek. “Mm. Hook, line, and sinker.”

And Eddie meant it about rocking his world; what he wouldn’t give to writhe beneath this gorgeous man right now, nuzzle into luxurious chest hair, bite at his nipples until they’re red and pebbled, rub and squeeze his softening belly and thighs and arms and jawline, roll him over and ride him into the mattress. Or pound him into it, he’s not picky. He can see it in his mind’s eye, feels the banked fire it stokes… but he’s sore all over. The ache in his body has the pervasive depth of chewed-up muscles and lifesaving sutures, and it dams up that want long before it can get all the way to his dick, so. 

It’s a little frustrating, but for the most part he’s content with what they have so far. Steve’s never done this with a guy—and Eddie’s never done this period—so taking it slow isn’t the worst idea. 

He snuggles into Steve’s cuddly embrace a bit more as resumes making a dent in their shared breakfast. They can figure everything out together, one step (and one bite) at a time. 

~

It takes a year. Eddie does all of his PT exercises religiously, and he still has to walk with a cane but that’s miles better than being carried or wheeled everywhere. His Stevie is still strong enough to lift him, of course, but now that Eddie is back to a healthy weight it takes more out of him, and Eddie is prone to pouting when that’s the reason for Steve huffing and puffing. 

No, he likes it much more like this, in Steve’s room because he has finally made those goddamn stairs his bitch. Cozied up to his boyfriend after dinner, dirty dishes stacked on the desk to deal with later, Steve panting a little as he focuses on digesting. Eddie loves every second of it as he reaches down to unbutton his sweetheart’s jeans for the day, noting how they’re already straining and mentally adding the next size up to tomorrow’s shopping list. Because he can show his face in public again, name cleared and everything, and buy whatever they need with the government payout that finally came through. 

“Think I… overdid it a li’l,” Steve mumbles, his voice strained and airy. He rubs a slow hand over the top of his belly to try and ease some of the pressure. Sighs as Eddie helps by gently peeling down the constricting denim a little more in front, letting the bit of tummy still tucked into his briefs to bulge through. Steve brings his other hand up to stifle a burp behind one loosely curled fist. 

“You’re fine, sweetheart,” Eddie assures him with a smile, pleased to the brim that he’d enjoyed the meal so much. “Need anything?” 

Steve smiles back, but there’s a hint of self-consciousness in it that just won’t do. “Nah, I’m good.” 

Even after a year of safety, Steve still has a hard time being doted on sometimes. It comes from years of low-key parental neglect, Eddie thinks, and a lingering instinct to ‘be a man’ and fill that protector role twenty-four seven. But that, Steve has agreed, is no longer necessary now that the Upside Down is gone. So he tries to relax. 

Sometimes that looks like Eddie laying him back in bed, sweetly fussing him into the perfect position, and making sure he eats his fill and a little extra. On those nights, Steve’s gaze goes soft and unfocused while still opening his mouth for whatever Eddie wants to give him, knowing—trusting—that it will be good, that he isn’t taking too much. 

But tonight, Eddie can tell that he needs a little more to hang onto. 

“Baby,” Eddie starts, clambering around not-so-gracefully-(but-at-least-he-can-do-it) to kneel between Steve’s splayed legs. “You are perfect, you know that?” Scooching down, he leans in and kisses the soft swell of Steve’s lower belly where it rolls out over the top of his underwear, bare where his shirt had long ago ridden up. “Always have been, always will be.”

Steve shivers beneath his continuing kisses, cheeks reddening as he looks away. “Not really the popular opinion. First of all, everyone knows I was a douchebag in high school.” He bites his lip and drops his gaze back to Eddie. From this angle, head inclined to look down, he has a full double chin beneath his round face, pretty face. “And I… I know I…”

Eddie waits for a moment after he peters out, then finishes it: “You’re beautiful. Whatever you look like, because you’re you.” And reaches up, turning Steve’s face gently back when he tries to look away again. “It’s all you, Steve, and I love you.”

Steve’s hazel eyes go wide, breath catching. It’s not the first time Eddie has said it, not really… Not like this, with the exact words and making direct eye contact and in his knees, kissing and nipping gently, devotedly at mole-dotted skin. But it’s also the first time Steve touched on this insecurity that doesn’t always come so close to the surface, the one that takes too much and makes it literal. 

Eddie stares him down while kissing over the tight jut of his full stomach, his soft sides and chest, murmuring nonstop praise along the way. Hands stroking along behind and coaxing out moans and burps until the tension in Steve’s body shifts from self-conscious back to that heady space of more, more, more. “Wanna feel you all over, Stevie, every inch. You drive me so fucking crazy you don’t even—” 

He cuts himself off with a claiming kiss at Steve’s panting mouth, tasting. Savoring. More. 

And that’s when his own need peaks, crests, and sends his hands back down to the waistband of the straining briefs. Snapping it just enough to draw a gasp and a wobble from his boyfriend before yanking them down, shoving hard. Shoving the jeans with them, rewarding Steve by licking devotion into his mouth when the other man takes his cue and rocks to lift his ass one wide cheek at a time. It’s enough to get the clothes gone, so Eddie can reach and take him in hand where he’s hard and flushed, wet from how much he’s leaking. 

Steve was trembling already. He shakes harder the second Eddie begins to stroke, spreading his thick legs as wide as he can—not very, these days. But still, he’s too full to jerk his hips into the ringed grip that's wringing an increasingly louder series of “ah ah ah”s out of him. Plump and jiggling body stuffed to where he could move, but doesn’t want to, just lets the sensations wash through him, lets himself be swamped by it, overflows into Eddie’s hand. And Eddie gets to watch, gets to feel it as Steve shudders, lips parted in a seemingly never ending moan that reverberates out from the depths of him, low and hot. 

Eddie wants to swallow it. Bottle it. Fucking get drunk off it, like he has almost every night (and some mornings, and some afternoons) ever since he started feeling up to it again. Shove it back to Steve, pumping into his hungry body—like everything else he’s given his boyfriend. His love, his food, his dick…

Then Steve is sucking on his tongue like it’s a lollipop, and Eddie is sinking against him to grind the hard-on still trapped in his own jeans against Steve’s soft body, making him grunt, and Eddie is gone. Comes so hard his vision whites out and he cries brokenly into Steve’s mouth. Sees goddamn stars. Just barely remembers to roll to the side instead of dropping his full weight on Steve, but plasters himself to the other man’s side all the same, face tucked in tight to Steve’s neck to taste the heady scent of him on every inhale. 

He drifts for a little while, mind hazy and buoyed up on all the feel-good hormones of an award-winning orgasm with a better partner than he ever could have dreamed of finding. Imagining what Steve could look like wearing a second year of his love, and a third, and— God, he’s still feeling the aftershocks, and even though it veers him immediately into so overstimulated he can’t hold back a whine, Eddie clutches tighter and grinds against Steve’s plush hip, just a little. 

Give him a few more minutes and he will get going again, desperate to spill his load directly on his boyfriend’s skin this time, over his belly or buried in his navel, and then clean him up with his tongue. Feed it to him in an insistent kiss and then finger one of them open for round three. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, the things you do to me,” Eddie whimpers, prompting Steve to chuckle sleepily and wedge a thick arm beneath him to hold them together close. 

In a minute, Eddie will get up and clean both of them up. Help Steve to roll onto his side and get the weight off his lungs so he can breathe better, fall asleep and digest. And Eddie will cuddle up behind him until Steve is practically molded to Eddie’s front, chest to back, hips to hips, Eddie’s knees tucked into the bend of Steve’s. 

For now everything is perfect and still and warm, and Eddie knows, blearily but happily, that he’s going to make an honest man out of Steve Harrington the second it becomes legal. 

Permanent tag list (ask to be added): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @whimsicalwadewinstonwilson @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr

[rosella35]

Kaleb's Bad Day: Part II

Part II of my little thing featuring Kaleb's existentialism and Brooke being... considerate? Consider this a teaser of what their relationship will be like two months after the events of the main story...

I hope you enjoy!

Content warning: contains swearing and themes of prejudice.

****

After checking briefly that the coast was clear, Brooke sucked in a breath and exited the girls bathroom. She walked down the empty hallway with as much purpose as she could muster, though her heart still pounded loudly in her chest. She could feel a second, much smaller heart pounding against her body as well, fluttering even faster than her own. Kaleb sat hunched up at the bottom of her jacket pocket, his tiny, shaking hands gripping the thick denim on either side of him to steady himself.  

After the two of them had recovered from their embarrassment in the bathroom and Kaleb had readjusted the toilet paper around his waist, Brooke had taken it upon herself to put the rest of their plan in action—anything to get her mind off of what she’d just witnessed. Obviously, Kaleb had protested against her planned hiding spot for him, complaining that it would be too obvious. To prove her point, Brooke had stood in front of the mirror by the sink, demonstrating how little Kaleb’s tiny form actually stood out from inside the pocket. After seeing that, Kaleb had shivered but said nothing, and dropped down into the pocket without a word. 

If anything could have reminded him of just how small he was compared to a human, it was that. 

A few minutes of walking later and Brooke cleared her throat, a sound that Kaleb felt as well as heard from his position. “We’re at your locker.” She announced. When no movement could be felt from her pocket other than Kaleb’s slight weight, Brooke frowned. “Oh, c’mon, are you really gonna sulk for the rest of the day? Your clothes are in there, right?” 

Carefully, she lifted the flap of the pocket up, watching the small borrower inside shield his eyes from the sudden change of lighting and peer up at her cautiously. Curled up as Kaleb was, her pocket almost looked roomy, a thought that had never exactly crossed Brooke’s mind before. “If you don’t wanna move yet, then at least tell me your locker combination.” 

“It’s 1-2-6-4.” Kaleb replied, voice quieter than normal. 

“1-2-6-4…” Brooke muttered to herself as she fiddled with the lock. Moments later, the door came loose with a faint click, and she pulled it open, revealing Kaleb’s untidy collection of belongings. Brooke stared at the locker’s contents for a moment in bemusement. At first glance, it looked like your everyday teenage boy’s locker: a disorganised pile of notebooks, pens, and crumpled worksheets. What drew her attention though was the assortment of knick-knacks Kaleb had managed to cram into one corner—stray buttons, rubber bands, bits of string and wire, thumbtacks, screws, aluminium foil, and even an empty plastic soy sauce fish from a packet of sushi. Brook wrinkled her nose. “Sheesh, it’s like a dumping ground in here. You do know we have bins on campus, right?” 

Kaleb gave a sheepish shrug from within the confines of her pocket. “What’s that saying you humans use? One man’s trash is another man’s treasure?”

She groaned. “You’re obsessive.” 

Not bothering to wait for his snarky reply, Brooke leaned into the locker so her chest was out of sight of anyone passing by and reached a hand into her jacket pocket, closing her fingers around the borrower inside as gently as she could muster. Kaleb couldn’t help but shudder slightly as he felt the all-encompassing pressure of those digits against his torso. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to being handled by humans, despite how many times Brooke had proven herself to be careful in the past. Kaleb fought against his instincts to squirm against her grip as he was brought out of the pocket and into the relatively spacious interior of his locker. Once inside, he took a moment to adjust the toilet paper around his waist, before glancing across at Brooke, whose giant frame blocked out the expanse of the hallway beyond. 

“Thanks for the lift.” He said, shifting awkwardly under her gaze and trying to mask the unsettling feeling of being watched with a half-assed smile. “You can close the door while I get changed. I’ll knock twice when I’m done.” 

“Right.” Brooke nodded. The human girl spared the empty hallway a quick glance, before pushing the locker shut with a creak. 

The second the door clicked shut and darkness swallowed up the locker’s interior, Kaleb let out the breath he’d been holding in. His eyes adjusted instantly to the nearly pitch-black space, taking in the stack of notebooks, school supplies and trinkets he’d only ever interacted with at human size. It almost felt surreal seeing them now, like he was a stranger getting a glimpse into the unreachable world of Kaleb the human. Those thoughts nagged at Kaleb’s mind as he sought out the small pile of borrower clothes he kept tucked away at the back of his locker. Wasting no time, he tugged on a simple short-sleeved navy shirt, capri pants and tan shoes, and tapped lightly on the metal door to let Brooke know he was done.

Kaleb shielded his eyes as light flooded back into the locker and his world opened up again to reveal Brooke’s gigantic gaze. From outside, the human girl smiled slightly, glad to see him back in his usual borrower getup. Anything to get her mind off his bare chest, and… well… Brooke’s crude thoughts were interrupted suddenly by the sound of the school bell echoing through the hallway. Kaleb jumped at the volume, tiny hands clamped over his ears. “Crap.” He winced, glancing around nervously. “I forgot we still had recess before next period.”

“Me too.” Brooke said, before realising the implications. “Oh, shit.” Acting on instinct, her hand shot out to wrap around Kaleb’s midsection, and she quickly lifted the flap of her jacket pocket to drop him inside, out of sight. The borrower yelped at the sudden transfer, disoriented, though his breath hitched as the noise outside suddenly picked up, hundreds of humans beginning to swarm the halls in their mad dash to the cafeteria. He drew his knees to his chest automatically, feeling smaller than ever. Despite knowing full well that no one would ever suspect Brooke Tucker of all people to have a borrower hidden away in her pocket, the layer of denim separating him from the outside world didn’t feel thick enough. 

Brooke, meanwhile, slammed Kaleb’s locker shut before anyone could see what she was doing, and started off down the hall. She passed by her own locker on the way to retrieve her packed lunch—with her parents’ current financial situation, joining the line for the cafeteria felt like a fleeting memory—before hesitating, wondering where she should go. 

From inside her pocket, Kaleb’s ears were pricked, listening intently to the sea of voices and squeaking of giant sets of shoes on the vinyl floor outside. It was always disorienting to travel by pocket and even more so when he wasn’t able to see what was going on around him. With a sigh, he shifted into a more comfortable position with his back against the wall of Brooke’s chest, hearing as well as feeling the pounding of her giant heart through the denim. Suddenly, the commotion outside ceased, and Kaleb frowned to himself, wondering where exactly his human chauffeur had ended up. Tentatively, he lifted the flap of the pocket, though froze when he felt the pressure of her hand on the outside, covering it. “Hang on.” Her voice rumbled through him. 

Kaleb’s stomach lurched uncomfortably as he felt her take a seat. Finally, once she was settled, Brooke lifted the pocket’s flap to allow her borrower passenger to take in their surroundings. 

Immediately, Kaleb pressed himself back into the depths of the pocket. “We’re outside?” He gulped, blinking up at the blue sky he rarely ever got to see from his regular size. “I thought you’d go to the library or something.” 

Brooke leant back against the trunk of the tree she’d chosen to sit under. Her face was dappled with the shadows of the rustling leaves above as she stared down at him, confused. “No one ever sits here, so I figured it’d be safer. I guess I could find us a spot in the library though, if you really want.” 

“Oh.” Kaleb said, hiding his flushed face. It was rare for Brooke to consider his needs like that. “No, it’s okay.” He said hurriedly, trying to hide the flutter of nerves that always came with being outside in an unfamiliar place. “I don’t mind staying here.” 

“Sweet.” Brooke said simply, turning to get out her lunch. Unwrapping her somewhat squished sandwich, she hesitated, sparing her downsized classmate a thoughtful glance. “Uh, do you want some of this? It’s just PB and J, but if you’re hungry…” 

“Sure.” Kaleb smiled gratefully. “Thanks.” 

Unsure how to go about sharing her lunch with a borrower, Brooke broke a small portion off her sandwich and held it out to him between her pinched fingers. She tried not to think about how she’d used her bare hands to touch his food, or how stale the bread her mum had used to make the sandwich probably was. Luckily, Kaleb didn’t seem to mind at all. To a borrower, food was food, and the novelty of actually being able to eat while at human school wasn’t lost on him. He accepted the squished clump of bread and condiments with a grin, nodding his thanks. 

It didn’t escape Brooke’s attention that Kaleb hadn’t asked to leave her pocket since she’d sat down. “You can come out, if you want.” She said, looking out at their surroundings. The tree she’d chosen was far enough against the perimeter of the school grounds that no other students were in sight, other than a group of boys playing soccer on the oval nearby. Even if somebody did come over, Kaleb would have plenty of time to duck out of sight before they arrived.  

Apparently that wasn’t enough to convince the borrower in question. “I’m fine just staying here.” Kaleb said dismissively. “I don’t wanna risk anyone seeing me.” 

He supposed it was a version of the truth. In actuality, there was a larger part of Kaleb that was absolutely terrified by the thought of being stuck out in the open without his borrowing gear. It was one of those realities of his kind that he would never expect any human to understand, let alone Brooke. To him, venturing outside unequipped was like a death sentence, something even the most hardened of borrowers wouldn’t dream of doing. Just as humankind had survived by creating their tools and weapons and inventions, a borrower’s grappling hooks, sewing needle swords, and thumbtack daggers were like their lifeline. Without them, Kaleb would be the perfect prey for a crow or stray cat, or worse, an overly curious human who just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

Which leaves me all the more dependent on Brooke right now. That unhelpful part of his brain reminded him. 

“Fair.” The human girl said. “I don’t exactly wanna be caught eating lunch with a borrower, either.” 

Kaleb smirked, internally glad she hadn’t pressed the issue. “Doesn’t really suit the exterminator’s daughter reputation, huh?”

“I will leave you here.” 

They were silent for a moment, and Kaleb took a bite of his makeshift sandwich, chewing thoughtfully and trying to ignore the sound of Brooke doing the same albeit at a larger, far more unsettling scale. “I never thought I’d see the school like this.” He admitted as a way of distraction, gazing over at the red and yellow brick building in the distance. From his current perspective, there might as well have been an ocean of grass separating it from where Brooke was sitting; a reality that was both humbling and unnerving at the same time. Kaleb found himself wanting to try and explain it to her, whether she chose to listen or not. 

“I’ve always kinda seen coming here as like my second life, where I can live the way any other human teenager would without being in constant fear of danger or being caught.” He said, arms draped over the lip of Brooke’s pocket as he brooded. “But right now, when I’m like this, it’s hard to explain. It makes it so obvious that the person I become when I’m human-sized—my whole identity when I’m at school—it’s all fake. Just a lie I built to protect this Kaleb. The real me.” 

Kaleb stared at the outline of his hands, so tiny in comparison to the human whose pocket he leant out of, and even tinier when held out in front of the backdrop of Westmount State High. When Brooke said nothing in response, he sighed, speaking more to himself than anything. “But still… Even though Upsize is a pain to deal with, and clearly it doesn’t always work the way it’s supposed to, I can’t imagine going back to the way things were before I started using it.”

Her borrower neighbour’s honest words stirred up a torrent of emotions inside Brooke; something that had been happening more and more frequently lately. I should’ve known he’d start getting all existential on me, her thoughts were screaming. Deep down, she knew that she and Kaleb were beginning to reach a bit of a stalemate with their empty threats and bickering, but a part of her still found comfort in those interactions. She could keep her guard up that way, and maintain a certain degree of separation from being genuine with him. Still, Brooke couldn’t deny that other part of her—one she tried to keep sealed away—that yearned for connection. If someone had told her two months ago that she’d be finding that connection from Kaleb Finch of all people, she would have laughed in their face. And yet here they were, and Brooke couldn’t help but agree with his words. She was sick of pretending, too. 

“You basically just summed up why so many humans like playing video games.” Brooke mused, swallowing the last of her sandwich and leaning back against the tree trunk with her legs stretched out in front of her. She laced her hands behind her head. “When you’re playing as a character and really immersing yourself in their world, it’s easy to forget how shitty your own life is behind the screen.” 

Now it was Kaleb’s turn to hesitate, not expecting such an earnest answer. Brooke surprised him more and more with those these days. “My life isn’t shitty.” He said. “It’s just…” He stared down at his hands again.

“Small?” The human girl offered with a smug grin.

Kaleb hid his own smile behind the material of her pocket. “I was going to say dull, but I guess that’s a more obvious way of putting it.” 

“To be honest, I forget too.” Brooke said. “That you’re actually a borrower. You fake being human so well it’s kinda scary. But then I come home and you’re suddenly popping out of some random hole in the wall and scaring the shit out of me like it’s the most normal thing ever.” She gave a half-hearted, knowing sigh. “I get it. For you, the difference between who you are at school versus home is literally huge, and honestly, I don’t even want to try and imagine what that’s like. But you’re not really as alone as you think. Every human who knows what’s good for them puts on a face at school to protect themselves. It’s just part of fitting in until you’ve figured out the kind of person you want to be.” 

“Yeah…I guess you’re right.” Kaleb said, looking up at her dinner-plate-sized grey eyes as they gazed out across the grassy oval. He could see that the Brooke at school was a different person too, in a way. She always seemed sadder, more wistful. Hidden behind that trademark smug look of hers was the pain of understanding what it felt like to be marginalised. It made Kaleb wonder how much of that was his fault. 

“I just wish I could tell everyone the truth.” He blurted out before he could fall into that particular pit of self-loathing.

From his position, Kaleb could feel as well as hear Brooke snicker. “Seriously? Like the whole class?” She asked with an amused grin. “You reckon you could trust them all? Even Amy Snyder?” 

I trust you. Kaleb wanted to say. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He agreed instead, but found himself hesitating when two figures kicking a soccer ball across the oval caught his eye. Kaleb blinked, surprised at how small they both looked from this distance, even though he knew it was only a matter of perspective. The borrower sighed. “I’d want to tell Thomas and Marcus.” He amended. “I’ve known them since I started here back in middle school. It’s exhausting, lying to them about everything. I didn’t really notice it until I started opening up to you.” 

Brooke hummed in agreement. “Yeah. Now that you mention it, I guess you do find every opportunity to tell me some weird borrower fact that I don’t actually care about.” 

When Kaleb shot her a withering look, the human girl tried again, though not without smirking first. “You’re worried they’ll look at you differently once they find out what you are, right?” 

Kaleb’s gaze dropped to the inside of her jacket pocket, where he began to fidget with the overlock stitching lining the edge. “Well… yeah.” He said quietly. “I mean, you did, didn’t you?” 

“I… did. I mean, I do.” Brooke had to admit. He’d gotten her there. Glancing down at his tiny, sulking form, she sighed, trying not to think too hard about how much she meant the words that came out of her mouth next:

“But is that really a bad thing? Yeah, I admit I still think borrowers are shit-talking little tight-wads, and I bet you still think me and my family are just another bunch of human bigots… but at least that means we both understand each other a little better, right?” 

Kaleb froze in place. Tactless as she was, he could see Brooke’s intentions as plain as day, how this was her own roundabout method of cheering him up. It made him smile, properly this time, and he met her giant eyes, opening his mouth to reply.

But then the bell rang again, signalling it was time to go back to class.

****

Fourth period was as dreary as ever for Brooke, who sat in her usual spot up the very back of the classroom so she could doodle in her notebook in peace. Although she was by no means flunking out of the subject, she definitely didn’t harbour the level of care towards maths that the borrower stowed away in her pocket seemed to have. Feeling her eyelids droop out of boredom, Brooke hid a yawn behind one hand while she sketched the outline of a guitar with the other. She hadn’t felt Kaleb’s tiny form shift against the inside of her pocket in a while now, figuring he was busy listening intently to Mrs Crowley taking questions about their upcoming exam as promised. 

Brooke rested her elbow on her desk and propped up her head with a hand. At the front of the classroom beside the whiteboard, the clock ticked away at her tauntingly. She blew the bangs out of her eyes with a huff. The sketch of her old guitar had killed exactly ten minutes of class time. 

Only eighty more to go. She thought miserably, reminded again of Kaleb and his abnormal appreciation for maths.  

After triple checking that no one was looking, Brooke decided that now was as good a time as any to check on the borrower in question. Maybe seeing him taking rigorous notes using the tiny scrap of paper and pacer lead she’d provided him earlier would spur her into actually engaging in the lesson herself. So, as quietly and non-discreetly as she could muster, Brooke pinched the flap of her jacket pocket between her thumb and forefinger and lifted it up to peer inside. She was fully expecting Kaleb’s tiny hand to immediately try to bat away her intruding digits, and for him to let out a string of curses for interrupting his note-taking (which she probably deserved).

Instead, Brooke was met with a very different sight.  

Her borrower classmate lay fast asleep at the bottom of the pocket, paper scrap and lead all but forgotten. The human girl watched his tiny chest rise and fall steadily, undisturbed by her relatively giant eyes gazing in. His body was curled up, free of the tension it had harboured since shrinking down hours ago. The near-permanent shit-eating grin had been wiped from his face, his features softened and relaxed. Brooke’s gaze lingered on his slumbering form for a moment longer, before she let the pocket flap fall back into place.

So much for catching those stupid exam tips. She thought to herself. 

For some reason though, Brooke wasn’t as annoyed as she imagined she’d be. If anything, seeing Kaleb let his near-impenetrable guard down after everything he’d been through that day made the human girl’s chest swell with unexpected warmth and that all-too-familiar emotion she wouldn’t dare acknowledge out loud. 

The corner of her lips tugging upwards into a smile, Brooke let out a sigh and turned to a fresh page of her notebook, writing the title “final exam tips” at the top. 

“You’re welcome." She whispered as she got to work.

[dre6ming]

TDBR - the Oscars

TDBR series

Masterlist

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To be added to my tag list click HERE

Pairing: Austin Butler x singer/ actress fem reader

Warning: fluff

Plot: after Austin wins his award you bump into his ex girlfriend into the Oscars bathroom.

Word count: 2000

Disclaimer: everything fake, no shade no nothing, just respect for all parties and remember this is all FICTIONAL

"Baby, I'll just go to the bathroom ok? I'll find you after?" I whisper to Austin who turns his head to smile at me. "Sure honey, you feeling ok?" He asks, his attention, that was previously directed at the lady engraving his name on the golden statue, now fully directed to me. "Yes, I just need to use the toilet." I explain, caressing his shoulder, giving his bicep a reassuring squeeze. "Ok, be careful!" I see him lean down to kiss me, but we are still not public so I take it upon myself to dodge the kiss. "Sorry." He mumbles, looking apologetic. "That's ok, see you soon!" I wave at him before turning around on my heels and finding my way to the bathroom.

I've got to admit it's pretty crazy, even now after all the success I've had in my career, to see myself surrounded by all these people I looked up to. I look to my right and there is Jamie Lee Curtis talking to Robert De Niro, so I have to stop for a second to just gawk at them. But only for a second, cause I don't want to be caught being a weird fangirl. As I keep walking trying to redeem myself, I bump into Pedro Pascal on the way. He and I are going to be starring in a new HBO series called "The last of us". We already filmed a couple of scenes but he and I have yet to be on set together. "Pedro, hi how are you?" He smiles at me. "I'm good good, you were incredible up there, looking fantastic. A big slay I'd say!" I can't help but laugh a bit too hard, resulting in a funny sound to come out of my nose. "Oh my, Ped, that's that's exactly right." I giggle wiping some tears from the corners of my eyes. "Listen I was on my way to the bathroom, so excuse me. Oh I almost forgot are you coming to Baz's after party? I think I send you the invite didn't I?" I ask. "Yes yes of course I'm coming, gotta watch out for my little girl." Pedro jokes, making us laugh at how serious he's taken to the role of the father figure for my character. "Ok dad." I scream running past him laughing. At this rate I'm collecting fathers like they're infinity stones.

The bathroom is not as full as I expected, that's mostly because all the big categories have been announced by now and a lot of people left for the after parties already. It's a bit tricky getting to do what I need to do in the long dark blue sequence dress, but I manage. I take a good look at myself in the mirror as I'm washing my hands, taking note that a bit of my mascara smudged, so I use a clean tissue paper to wipe that off.

"Excuse me?" A voice calls out as I'm concentrating on getting the mascara situation under control. I toss the tissue in the trash and turn around to see who was call me. I'm stunned the second I'm face to face with the person who just spoke. "(Y/n), oh my goodness I thought that was you, who else would wear a huge navy sequence dress." I can't believe my eyes, Vanessa Hudgens is standing in front of me, looking gorgeous in her black skin fitted dress. "Oh, um hi!" I put my hand out to shake, but she surprises me by pulling me into a tight hug. "You look so beautiful tonight by the way, I wanted to get to talk to you on the carpet, but you were caught up with other interviewers. I didn't want to crowd you." To be honest I avoided her on the carpet on purpose, sure my relationship with Austin isn't yet confirmed to the public and all, but the rumors are there and I'm sure she's seen most if not all of them. "Oh yeah, I was pretty crowded. It's a bummer I didn't get to talk to you, you always give such great interviews." I say, meaning every word, because in truth she is amazing at interviewing people and to not admit that would be a blasphemy. I wasn't avoiding her because I have something against her, in fact I'm actually a big admirer of hers. Austin told how things went down between them and I trust him, from his side nothing bad went down, but there was heartbreak and hurt so I can only imagine that for her it was at least as painful as it was for him, if not worse.

"That's ok, I'm sure we'll get to do it for another carpet, maybe at the Met this year if you're going." She's so sweet. "I think I am, it really depends on how my filming schedule goes."

"Oh hell yeah I saw you and Pedro Pascal got cast for that HBO series, congrats." I blush at all the compliments she's directing my way, toying with the necklace around my neck. "Vanessa, I-" the words just don't seem to come out of my mouth, because frankly I don't even know what I want to say. She seems to understand that I'm having a hard time communicating what I want to say and her features soften as her big smile comes a soft smirk. "Listen, I've seen the rumors, I don't hold it against you or him, if they are true. He was an amazing boyfriend and well maybe we both could've done better to stay together, but I don't think it was meant to be." I can see she speaks from the heart. "I just, I know his side of things, he only has good things to say about you, but.."

"Honey if the one thing holding you back is me, I want you to know you have my full support. Austin deserves to be happy, doesn't matter who it's the one taking care of that as long as he's happy." I'm surprised to say the least, but I think coming off of what Austin told me about her, I expected this kind of reaction from her. "That's so nice of you to say, I just-" she shushes me when the door opens and someone comes in. "Let's go out." She motions her head towards the door, looping her arm around mine and leading me out. "Thank you!" I whisper to her.

"So I need you to know there's no bad blood." She tells me truthfully. "I believe you, but with everything going on I just, I'm scared of people finding out and I don't know how much longer we can keep it under wraps, I mean you saw him." Vanessa seems to understand exactly what I mean. "Longing stares and tight hugs. Oh we've all seen him, you are clearly the better one at hiding all this." I laugh nervously, wondering just how bad Austin is making things look from an outside perspective. "It's not too bad." She chimes in, probably reading my thoughts. "Eh I can try and fool myself, but... in the end we will make it public so there's no more speculations, but we don't want that to overshadow our careers, so we wanted for award season to be over." I explain one of the reasons we're being so private. "I get that. Oh and here comes lover boy." She says looking over my shoulder and before I can turn my neck to look behind me, a hand settles on my hip. "Hey Nessa, what's up?" Austin says, pulling me closer to him.

Vanessa notices the small gesture, throwing me a knowing look. "Nothing much, just talking to (y/n). Congratulations by the way, it was well deserved!" She says, gesturing to the award he's holding in his other hand. "Did they engrave it?" I ask, looking down at it. "Yes, look how cool it looks." Austin says excitedly, holding it up for me to read. "Did they spell your name wrong?" I ask faking concern. "What?" He panics immediately taking a closer look at the award. I can't help but burst out laughing at him. "You little minx!" He teases kissing my cheek, before I get the chance to dodge it this time. "Austin!" I warn looking around worried someone might've noticed. "Sorry." He says quietly.

"Don't be, you look cute together. You actually seem very happy Aus, I'm glad for you. I have to get going now, but I wish you both the best. Have a good one!" She says. "Thank V, you look happy too, I saw you were engaged, how's that?" Austin asks her. His question makes me look down at her left hand, where there is in fact a big beautiful diamond ring. "He makes me happy. I'm glad we both got to be in love again. It suits you." Her words make me wonder how can she see that he's in love with me. I look at his face and don't see anything that could scream 'I'm in love', but like on cue he feels me looking at him, so he turns his head to me. That's when I see it, that glimmer in his eyes, the one that not only screams 'I'm in love' but also it projects it out into the world. "Yeah I think it does. She's the one thing that got me through this whole thing. I have you to thank for all of this, so thank you!" Austin tells her and I can see his words touched her.

"You're welcome Austin, send me an invite to the wedding." Vanessa says, giving him a quick hug and disappearing into the crowd. Wedding? His wedding? With me? She couldn't have meant that? Right? "What's wrong? Did she say anything?" Austin looks over my face and I catch myself in his eyes, looking terrified. "Oh no, no, she was actually really sweet." I avert my eyes from him, this way preventing him from looking straight into my soul as he usually does. "Then..? Oh was it the wedding comment?" Austin catches on either way. I blush deeply and try to shake my head, but there's no point in denying. "Honey she meant that as a joke, ok? I'm not proposing. Not now at least."

Not now, so he's thought about this. "Not now?" The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. "I mean, maybe sometime in the future." Austin clarifies licking his lips anxiously. "Not the near future.." he keeps going hoping to calm me. "(Y/n) I know it’s too soon, but I can't lie and say that I haven't thought about marrying you, ok? I have and I know we are not ready yet."

"Yet? Ok but how will you know when I'm ready? Cause you might be ready faster than I am, since your older and I don't expect you to wait for me." Austin chuckles, brushing back his hair. "Honey, I would wait for you a thousand years and then a thousand more. And if you never want to get married, that's fine too. Now what do you say we go home and change to go to Baz's party?" Austin caresses my cheek, smiling softly at me. "Ok." I sigh, holding my dress up and walking towards the exit where Matt waits for us to drive us back to Austin's place so we could get changed for the after party.

"Can you believe I won this?" Austin asks still looking in disbelief at his award as I lean my head on his shoulder, looking down at the golden prize in his hand. "I can." I say, kissing his neck, feeling his hot skin against my red lips. "Now you're mine." I giggle as I lick my thumb to help clean off the red lip stain. "No, leave it." He says taking my hand and holding my knuckles. "Ok my winner! I love you!" I close my eyes and relax next to him. "I love you too!" Austin tells me kissing the top of my head, letting me lean on him.

Tags: @galaxygirl453 @rainydayz101 @samaraannhan20 @marlowmode @myradiaz @areuirish @micaelainthe60s @homebodybirkin2003 @pennyroyalcreep @purejasmine  @strokesofstokes @lanasfloridakiloss @denised916 @kibumslatina @macey234 @melodixs-blog @shantellescrivener @chewiethecatus @guacala @fangirl125reader @father-of-2cats @lucid315 @melodixs-blog @ilovehobi101 @richardslady121 @jensmithin @julie181 @chrisevansgirl34 @ranaissingle @onecrazydirectioner @maria-1287 @austinbutlerssimp @kingdomforapony @acoolnight @tarot-sybarite @goldenmarygio @frozenhuntress67 @anonyboo63478338 @littlewhiterose @thefallofthedamned @1eminicookie @rose-deathman @iheqrtaustin @desitravelsblog @prompted-wordsmith @austinsvlrslut @crystallizedth0t @hertvgirl @peanutbutterinacup @austinswhitewolf

[sagesolsticewrites]

Pen Pal

(John Brady x Juliet Thompson (OC))

Jules gets a letter from her boy an ocean away— as well as a message from a new friend.

This is just a little blurb about Jules getting the letter Olive wrote to her in Part 7 of @winniemaywebber’s masterpiece Honeysuckle Rose! It’s all coming together 👀🤭 If you haven’t read Winnie’s stuff, go do that NOW, she’s absolutely incredible 🥹 and don’t worry, more Jules & Brady is coming soon!

@winniemaywebber @ginabaker1666

Juliet unlocks the door with a sigh, juggling the pile of essays she has to grade in one arm and her keys and purse in the other.

“I’m home!” She calls, knowing her father would be in his study and her mother would likely be in the kitchen preparing for dinner.

“Hi, sweetheart,” her mother grins, poking her head out as Juliet drops her purse onto the small table in the foyer, “How was your day?”

Juliet mumbles something about quizzes and essays and missing homework as she follows her mother’s voice back into the kitchen to dump the essays at the end of the table; she’ll take them up to her desk later.

“Oh, Jules, honey, there’s a letter from John for y—”

The envelope is snatched out of her hands before her mother can even finish her sentence, Juliet’s eyebrows rising at the thickness of it. It was usually her sending him long-winded letters, not the other way around.

“I didn’t know John started writing a novel,” her mother teases, prompting Juliet to roll her eyes playfully.

“Ha ha,” she deadpans, “Is it alright if I…?”

Her mother nods as Juliet glances up towards where her room is, waving her off with an indulgent smile.

“Go on, I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

Scooping up the pile of essays once more, she scurries up to her room, dumping the papers on her desk and eagerly tearing open the envelope as she settles on the edge of her bed.

Lounging in the golden light of sunset, ready to let her sweetheart’s words wash over her, her heart flutters and her smile grows as her eyes land on the words he starts every letter with— My darling Jules.

Her nagging curiosity soon gets the better of her, though, and she can’t help but peek at the extra pages. It was rare for him to write more than two or three pages, and there were easily at least six stuffed in the envelope.

Her curiosity only increases upon seeing the last four pages written in an entirely different hand, and she flicks back to the first, scanning for an explanation.

My darling Jules,

I hope you’re doing well, and the hooligans you call students aren’t running you too ragged. Just say the word, I’m not afraid to scold a few teenagers when I get back, okay?

I got your last letter along with Ma’s, and I know I keep saying it, but thank you so much for being there for my parents, sweet girl. Ma can’t stop gushing about how wonderful it is to have you over for dinner and according to her I’m a frequent topic of conversation— which is incredibly flattering, sweetheart, but I hope she’s keeping the more embarrassing stories of my childhood quiet? If she hasn’t, please, please forget about them for my sake.

Things have been mostly quiet here, though I imagine you’d like the new Red Cross girl we’ve acquired on base. According to everyone else she showed up out of nowhere, but she’s settled in remarkably well, especially for a Brit being surrounded by Americans. DeMarco and Douglass especially have taken a particular liking to her, which, well… It's been interesting, to say the least. Her name’s Olive, and would you believe it, she’s also a fan of our friend Shakespeare! When I ran into her reading The Tempest of course I had to tell her about my best girl, the Shakespeare expert, and when she asked about sending along some of her thoughts on his work I told her you’d be more than happy to talk about it with someone much smarter than me.

She happened to run into me this morning and handed me something I’m sure you’ll love: an analysis of the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. Enjoy, sweetheart.

I miss you more than words can say, honey. You’re on my mind all day and in my dreams every night. I have plenty of things here to keep me occupied, but every once in a while I get a swell of missing you, and I find myself sitting outside my barracks, watching the sunrise and imagining you’re there with me.

As always, I’m counting down the days until I’m back with you, Jules.

Sending all my love,

John

She takes a moment to clutch the letter to her chest, sending up a grateful prayer for every word she got. It meant he was safe and whole for the time being.

Then she promptly turns her attention to the letter from… Olive, Johnny had said?

There were three pages, covered front and back, of delightfully insightful analysis in increasingly erratic, though legible, penmanship, and some part of her scholarly brain lights up at Olive’s ideas, already forming a reply in her mind.

The last page was a letter from Olive, which Juliet devoured eagerly. Anyone who had such wonderful ideas about The Bard was someone she was eager to be friends with.

Jules,

Let me know if I've still got it in me to study our favorite man; it's been a long time. I wrote this in a restless rush, dying to get the words out of my brain and onto the paper after a night of little sleep.

I don't know how much Brady has told you, so I will give you a quick synopsis: Dougie and Benny both made it clear they had feelings for me weeks ago, and I felt quite stuck in the middle, my friend. Benny, however, came to the realization that he saw me as a friend and told me so last night as he walked me home. Can you believe who saw the whole thing happen, both of us wrapped in what I saw as a platonic, friendly embrace to mark the start of a lasting friendship? Dougie has gone absolutely ballistic and I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. I have tried to reason with him, but he will not listen, nor can anyone make him. What would you do, my dear? Leave it alone? Keep at it?

My brain is full of so many foggy thoughts that the only thing that settled them was writing this for you. I do hope we can be friends, Jules. You sound like my kind of person.

Hope to hear from you soon,

Your friend,

Olive.

“Oh dear, the poor thing,” Juliet murmurs to herself upon reading about Olive’s predicament. Grabbing a pen and paper, she begins drafting a reply to what she hopes will turn out to be a regular pen pal.

Olive,

It’s lovely to meet you! Your words about what is personally one of my favorite scenes in the entirety of Shakespeare’s works are utterly exquisite, and I look forward to hearing more! (Frankly, it’s a breath of fresh air after hearing what some of the high schoolers I teach have to say on the subject— but don’t tell them I said that!) I’d love to hear your thoughts on The Tempest if you’d be so inclined?

As far as your Benny and Douglass predicament… unfortunately I’m not very experienced in that field, but hopefully the small bit of advice I can give can help.

Keep at it, Olive. Douglass will surely see reason soon, and if he doesn’t, well… if he refuses to listen, perhaps that means he simply doesn’t deserve you. But keep trying to get through to him. Sometimes all we can do in these circumstances is keep trying.

I wish you the best, Olive, and do keep me informed on how things go if you wish. I believe this is the start of a lovely friendship.

Your friend,

Juliet

She steps back for a moment, considering something, before adding a postscript, and then another:

P.S. I’ve attached a brief summary of my thoughts on Twelfth Night— while my namesake may have her origins in one of Shakespeare’s tragedies, I’ve always been fond of his comedies. I love a good happy ending, don’t you?

P.P.S. I know John doesn’t always tell me everything that’s going on over there. He says he doesn’t want me to worry, but at the very least I need to know if he’s taking care of himself. If it isn’t too much to ask, would you mind keeping an eye on him and letting me know how he’s really doing? He puts on a brave face, which is admirable of course, but I wish he knew he doesn’t have to do that with me. It would mean the world to me but please do tell me if I’ve overstepped, dear. I’d hate to mess up our new friendship just as it’s getting started.

Setting that aside, Juliet scribbles down a quick, rambling essay on her thoughts about the connections between Viola, Olivia, and Duke Orsino and sets it atop the reply to Olive.

Her pen is hovering over yet another blank sheet of paper, ready to begin her reply to John, when her mothers voice drifts up from downstairs.

She sets her pen down with a sigh, mentally filing away her half-drafted letter to her beau— correspondence would have to wait until after dinner, it seems.

“Hi Daddy,” Juliet says, pausing to press a kiss to her father’s cheek before taking her place at the table.

“Hi sweetheart,” he smiles, taking her hand as Juliet takes her mother’s to lead them in grace.

“How’s John doing?” He asks as the meal commences, “Seems he had a lot to say this time.”

Juliet playfully rolls her eyes at his teasing, “He’s fine. Actually, it wasn’t just a letter from him. He says they’ve got a new Red Cross girl on base— her name’s Olive— and somehow the topic of Shakespeare and, well, me came up in one of their conversations. Apparently she’s a fan, and asked if she could send along some of her thoughts on some of his work, so I guess I’ve got a new pen pal,” she chirps.

“Oh that’s wonderful, sweetheart,” her mother beams.

“That’s very nice,” her father nods, “Not enough young people these days appreciating the classics.”

The Thompson women exchange a look at the beginning of a familiar rant about the new generation’s lack of interest in classic literature, and quickly change the topic.

“Any other news from John?”

Jules shakes her head.

“He’s said it’s fairly quiet over there. Most of his letter was about Olive and thanking me for making sure his parents are alright while he’s away. Then again,” she adds, “I’m not sure he could tell me what’s happening even if he wanted to. I did ask Olive if she wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on him. She seemed very sweet in her letter, and…” she sighs, “If I’m being honest, the idea of having someone there who can tell me if something does happen makes me a little less worried.”

“Honey,” her mother reaches for her hand, “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Don’t you think, George?”

“Hm?” Her father looks up, clearly lost in his mumbling about the problems of this generation and not having heard a word they said, “Oh, um… yes, wonderful idea.”

Juliet and her mother exchange a smile, and the meal continues in relative silence until Jules excuses herself to finish her letter to John.

Settling at her desk with a fresh sheet of paper and a smile, the light of her small lamp illuminating the one picture of John she has— from his graduation day, when they had just started dating— she begins to write:

My dearest, Johnny…

[bella-rose29]

Golden Boy

Nikolai Lantsov x f!reader

They meet at the University of Ketterdam and sparks fly, but he becomes Sturmhond and she stays behind.

Word count: 5.3k (there's a part two as well send help)

Warnings: swearing, angst, i cried when i wrote this and if it was on paper it would be covered in my tears

Tag list: @bubybubsters, @hauntedenthusiasttragedy, @karensirkobabes, @kentucky-criedfricken, @notoakay, @naushtheaspiringauthor, @el-de-phi, @simbaaas-stuff

Please let me know here if you want to be added or removed from my general Nikolai tag list my lovelies <3

(not my image although i think that's probably obvious)

Y/n was early for her class, which confused her. Normally she was running late, turning up a minimum of five minutes after whatever the event was had started, no matter what, so to be early for once was making her worried. She checked her timetable again, looking at the room number on her paper and the room number on the door, then at the time and date on the paper and the time and date on the huge clock in front of her, all the details matching, and decided she didn't like being early. She also didn't like being late, to be clear; there wasn't much that was more embarrassing than walking in to a room full of people mid-lesson, and having everyone stare at you as you walked to the only available seat that was as far away from the door as humanly possible (which totally wasn't an experience the girl had had before).

Sitting down on one of the chairs outside the classroom, she sighed, hoping the professor would turn up soon. Footsteps started echoing through the corridor immediately after she had the thought, and she was starting to get worried at how lucky she was today.

Maybe I'll go place a bet on something later, she thought. Looking up, however, she saw not the professor but another student, clothes neat and not crumpled at all (the ones she had on were the only clean items she could find on the floor of her room that morning), blond hair perfectly styled (her hair looked like a bird had recently finished nesting in it), and bag slung effortlessly over one shoulder (hers was dumped on the floor, the strap unable to bear more than the weight of a single book most days).

She immediately didn't like him.

When he smiled at her, teeth blindingly white, her dislike grew at this obviously rich posh kid who had never had to ask for a thing in his life, and tried not to physically move away from him when he sat in the seat next to her.

"Are you in 'Languages of the World' too?" he asked.

"No, I just thought I'd sit outside the classroom and wait for the professor of a class I don't attend." His smile faltered slightly, and she felt a little bad. She knew it was harsh, but she had no time for rich kids, and he was obviously one of them. Having grown up on the streets of Ketterdam, working three jobs to pay for her family to stay in a single hotel room, she knew how to suss a person out within five seconds. It wasn't bias, she'd learned how to read body language and facial expressions when she was 9, and it was extremely handy for knowing who to approach and who to avoid in the streets.

"That was sarcasm," she said, even though her voice had been dripping with it just now and there was no way that he had missed it.

"Right..." he trailed off, and thankfully at that moment some other students turned up, giving her an excuse to not talk to him. The professor turned up just as the bell sounded, and Y/n leapt up, desperate to be as far away from Golden Boy as physically possible.

Once inside the classroom, the professor announced a seating plan, and Y/n internally groaned.

Please let me be sat next to someone who has some sort of a grasp on languages, she thought.

In her first week at University while on the hunt for friends, she'd discovered that of all the people in this class, barely anyone spoke something of all the languages taught. Learning other languages had been another skill she'd picked up as a child, since a lot of tourists came to Kerch (although having grown up here, she had no idea why, it was a complete shit hole in her opinion). It had allowed her to get a third job as a translator for some offices, and it paid so well that after only six months working there she was able to drop one of her other jobs.

Finding her name on the sheet of paper the professor had pinned to the board, she went and sat in her seat, taking her books out of her bag. Just as she placed her bag on the floor, she felt someone sit down on her left, and mentally prepared herself for the greeting.

Nothing prepared her for the fact that Golden Boy was her table partner, however, and she choked on her spit. He frowned, concern flashing across his features. "Are you alright? Saints, here, have some water." She took the bottle that he presented, taking a large swig before handing the bottle back to him. Embarrassing that he'd seen that happen, but she had noticed his use of the word 'Saints'. So he was Ravkan. She wasn't sure how she'd missed the slight accent before, but now she knew where he was from, it was obvious.

"I'm alright now, sorry."

"Let me know if you need any more, yeah?" Ghezen's Hand, he even spoke like he'd been raised on caviar and silver platters, despite speaking Kerch.

"I'll be fine, thank you."

Not long after, the register was called, and the professor went round the tables individually. When he got to their table, checking they were there, Y/n almost choked on air again.

"Y/n L/n?"

"Here, sir."

"Nikolai Lantsov?"

What? The professor had made some kind of mistake, surely. There was no way that-

"Here, sir."

What?!

Why the fuck was the second heir to the Ravkan throne in her 'Languages of the World' class? And why was he sat next to her? Although, actually he didn't have much choice in sitting next to her, because of the seating plan, but she chose to ignore that piece of information for the time being. The whole class was tittering, whispers rising as they recognised the name.

"Settle down, students, settle down. Let's get started, shall we?" The professor called, moving to stand behind his desk.

"What. The. Fuck?" she muttered under her breath, although apparently not quietly enough.

"I didn't think he'd do it like that, to be fair. I was hoping I could be a little more incognito, but yes, 'what the fuck' perfectly sums this up I'd say," he whispered, leaning in slightly so that he didn't have to speak so loudly. Y/n refused to turn to look at him, keeping her gaze fixed on the professor at the front of the room and starting to make notes on what he was saying.

The rest of the class passed without too much stress, and luckily Y/n barely had to speak to the prince. No wonder he'd sounded so posh, though. And he probably had been raised on caviar and silver platters. By the time the lesson was over, two hours after it had begun, Y/n couldn't wait to leave. She'd enjoyed learning, but having to sit next to literal royalty wasn't doing wonders for her self-esteem, and her ass hurt from having to sit still on the chair for so long. Packing up her things, she turned to leave, but apparently His Royal Highness Prince Nikolai Lantsov had other ideas.

"I know I haven't made the best impression on you - don't look at me like that, I know I haven't - but did you want to do the homework together? My Fjerdan isn't brilliant, but you seem to be amazing at it, so I was just wondering if you would help?" He looked nervous, hands fidgeting at his sides, pulling at the bottom of his coat. She sighed deeply.

"Fine. Just... try not to be posh or anything. I can't stand it."

"How do I do that?"

"I don't know, do I? If I think you're getting too posh, I'll glare at you and start to leave, alright? Then you know what not to do." She walked off, hoping he'd follow. Sure enough, he did, footsteps echoing as they had earlier. Looking down at his feet she realised that it was because he had fancy shoes on, the kind that she could buy for the price of her house, and scoffed out loud.

"What now? Have I done something posh?"

"No, sorry. It's just that even your shoes are posh."

"Wait," he said, stopping abruptly. She stopped too, half turning back to face him, and frowning when he stuck his hand out. "Hello, I'm Nikolai, but just Nik is fine," he said with a smile, and Y/n's frown turned to an expression of incredulity.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, we got off on the wrong foot, and you don't like me too much, so I figured I should introduce myself the way I should have done before class."

"For the record, this," she waved her hands in his general direction, "is too posh. But fine. I'm Y/n, and don't shorten it, because we're not friends." She took his hand, annoyed when she felt a butterfly take flight in her stomach at how their hands seemed to fit together.

"Yet."

"What?" She pulled her hand back. Enough physical contact for today.

"We're not friends yet. I'm very persistent when I want to be. And I would like to be friends with you."

Y/n snorted. "What for? I've insulted you to your face multiple times the entire time we've known each other, despite the fact that's completely inappropriate."

"That's exactly why I want to be friends with you, because you're not pretending to like me. I could already see everyone else in that class eyeing me up, seeing how they could try and get close to me in a stupid attempt to be able to say that they're friends with royalty. You just ignored me, and to be honest? It felt great."

"Um... you do realise how weird you sound, right?"

"Yeah, I... as soon as I said that I realised. But I mean it, Y/n," he replied, following after her as she started walking again. "It's nice to have to try and make a friend. Wait, that was posh, wasn't it?" At her slow nod he winced, and she felt a pang of sympathy. She supposed that having no idea who your real friends were was something they had in common, and decided she could try being a little nicer to him.

"Look, I'm sorry for being rude and stuff, I just really don't like rich people. I grew up on the streets while I worked 20 hours a day to keep my family in a shitty hotel room and fed and warm and all the rest of it, and when rich people heard about my situation they'd just say 'stop being poor, that'll solve your problems'." He was staring at her, unreadable expression on his face, and it was making her slightly uncomfortable. She'd never not been able to read someone before. "But... I know what it's like to be alone, and honestly Ketterdam is one of the last places you wanna be alone, so if having a real friend is gonna help, then I guess I can let you tag along to my study sessions. This does not mean that we are friends, to be clear. You've still gotta work for that. But I'm giving you extra opportunities, alright?" He nodded, so fast she was worried his head would go flying off, and the smile on his face was so wide and genuine she couldn't help but let a small smile onto her own face.

"You have every right to not like me, especially with a life like that. I'm sorry that that happened, too. But I promise I'll try and convince you to be my friend, and then be the absolute best friend you could ever have asked for."

She rolled her eyes at his words, pushing open the door to the University library. "You are very full of yourself, you know that?"

"I have been told that, yes. Most often by Dominik, actually. But then he's always calling me names, so I feel the need to defend myself by making myself feel important and unstoppable."

Snorting at him she asked "Who's Dominik?", and finding a table in the back of the library and sitting down, she pulled out the homework.

"My best friend, lives in Ravka. He's in the army now, down in the front lines. We grew up together."

"Is he posh like you?"

"Nope. His family lives on a farm. They're better off than they were when we were growing up; I've managed to siphon funds from a noble I don't like to his family so that they don't have to worry too much. The harvest can be rough where they are, so I didn't want them to starve. They always managed to put food on the table when I came over, so this is my way of saying thank you, I guess."

Y/n couldn't help but stare in shock at the prince (who was blissfully unaware as he unpacked his own bag). "Wait. Your best friend is a commoner?"

"Yeah. You'd probably get on, actually. Bond over teasing the shit out of me or something."

"And you're helping his family?"

He paused in his movements, looking at her properly. Seeing the confusion on her face, his own expression softened. "You think it's impossible for a rich person to help someone."

It wasn't a question, but she still nodded. Having grown up expecting the least from everybody, she was used to people with money doing nothing, leaving the poor on the streets. Never, in her life, had she met a rich person that had actively done something useful to help someone else, so to hear Nikolai Lantsov, prince of the Ravkan throne, talk about how he was helping a poor family made her want to hug him.

"You know, usually when people say 'impossible' they actually mean 'improbable'," he said, and she smiled a little.

"That's stupid."

He shrugged. "It's true though. Think about it. You thought it was impossible for a rich person to help someone, but I've just proved to you that it's only improbable, because out of all the ones you've come across, I'm the only rich person you've met that has."

She couldn't deny his logic. "Still stupid. Come on, I heard your Fjerdan earlier, this is gonna take all week."

They spent hours in the library, occasionally getting up and walking around the table to stretch their legs or collect a book, and by the time they were kicked out by the librarian due to closing, Y/n had found herself having fun. He was funny, and actually quite nice, and yes, his Fjerdan was horrific, but he was a fast learner, and by the time they left for the night he had improved significantly.

"How long until I'm fluent, then?"

"Not sure. How long are you here for?"

"Three years, apparently. I might die of boredom before then, there doesn't appear to be much else to do, and my parents want me to do a politics course next year."

"You might die of boredom? What are you, a puppy in need of constant entertainment?"

"Ironically my nickname in court is 'Sobachka', so sort of." Y/n reached her door, pausing outside.

"This is me. This is also not an invitation to be outside my door every opportunity you get, alright?" He nodded. "Good. Night, Nik." She opened her door, stepping inside and closing it again before he had a chance to reply.

~~~

He took every opportunity to be outside her door.

It was infuriating at first, how persistent he was, but after a week of him trailing her heels she figured she should just get used to it.

They spent most evenings in either her or his room (his was significantly more neat and tidy than hers), studying, doing homework, or trying to get Nikolai better at speaking Fjerdan (it really was atrocious, which she couldn't understand since he'd pretty much mastered all the other languages). The rest of the time was spent in lessons, or for Y/n working shifts whenever she had some spare time. Nikolai had offered to help out financially, but Y/n, despite her constant pleadings that rich people would give away more of their money to the people that needed it, refused to take his. It felt too much like she was using him, and given how excited he'd been to have a real friend, she just felt bad thinking about it.

One night they were in her room, Nikolai sprawled on her bed and Y/n picking various things up off the floor and other surfaces in an attempt to tidy. He had an arm flung over his forehead, and a leg dangled off the side of the bed, making him look like one of those ladies in a painting that had fainted onto a fancy sofa.

"You could help me, you know."

"You wouldn't let me. As soon as I touched something you'd tell me not to break it, or that I'm putting it in the wrong place." She groaned at his words, knowing frustratingly that he was right. It was annoying how quickly he'd worked out how to understand her, but then he was a fast learner. That thought made her pause.

"If you're such a fast learner, how come you're shit at speaking Fjerdan?"

"What do you mean?" He removed his arm from his head, opening an eye to squint up at her. "I'm not that bad."

"Uh, yeah you are. I had to teach you the word for 'goodbye' yesterday because you'd forgotten it. Seriously, who is that bad at Fjerdan? I know it's not an easy language to learn, but you've mastered the others." He blushed a light pink, pushing himself up on his elbows.

"I uh, I haven't been entirely honest with you, and when I tell you I need you to not hate me" he started, looking like he was bracing himself for a physical attack.

"What." Her eyes narrowed.

"I'm actually fluent in Fjerdan, I just pretended I couldn't understand it so that we had a legitimate reason to spend time together," he replied, in perfect, unaccented Fjerdan. She froze where she stood, eyes wide, then chucked the decorative pillow she was holding at his head. "Ow!" he cried as it made contact, falling backwards against the covers.

"Well you deserve it, you bastard! You've been lying to me for a week because you were desperate for a friend?! I would have been your friend anyway, you dipshit!"

"You... you would?"

"Yes!" she shouted, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. Her breath came rapidly, chest heaving from shouting.

"Oh..." he paused, looking bashful. "I just... normally I'm good at making friends, I just figured you wouldn't want to spend time with a rich kid unless you had a reason to. And I really wanted to be friends with you, Y/n."

"Well how did you become friends with Dominik? Pretend you were shit at Zemeni?"

"It was a lot more complicated than that, and no I did not. You know that my Zemeni is flawless," he held a hand to his chest in mock hurt, a pout forming on his face.

"Oh, forgive me for not remembering that when you lied to my face about your Fjerdan!"

"You aren't too mad at me, are you?" he questioned, pushing himself up into a sitting position, worry filling his expression.

"No, I'm not. I just... am frustrated that you didn't tell me sooner."

"I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you!"

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"No, I will," he said, leaping up from the bed to stand in front of her and hold her arms. "I will. Are you free tomorrow evening? Actually, don't answer that, I know you are. I'll pick you up at six bells, alright?"

"Pick me up? Nik, what do you mean?"

"I'll feed you, all you have to do is look pretty and bring your appetite, which shouldn't be too difficult for you given how gorgeous you are anyway, because I'm paying and that's that."

Y/n felt her face warm at his words, and the pesky butterflies that had slowly been waking up the last week fluttered in her stomach.

"I don't have anything nice to wear though, so you'll just have to deal with what I've got and not take me anywhere fancy. Seriously, a street vendor would be fine. And don't spend too much, becau-"

"Saints, please stop talking! I will take you where I want to take you and if you don't have anything to wear then tell me, because I refuse to be seen in public with somebody who's naked, alright?" She hit him (gently), and he jumped back, laughing. "I mean it! Imagine how ruinous that could be for my reputation!" She hit him again, smiling along with him as he picked up a pillow to defend himself. Y/n lifted a pillow of her own, and before long they were having an all-out pillow fight on the floor of her bedroom.

~~~

Y/n was panicking.

It wouldn't be long until six bells, and where she was always late, Nikolai was extremely punctual, and she knew for a fact that he would be knocking on her door as soon as the first bell sounded, and here she was, stood in the middle of her room, surrounded by clothes yet not wearing any of them. She was yet to pick an outfit, and although she'd said to Nikolai yesterday that he'd have to deal with whatever she picked out, and she'd never been one for caring what other people thought of her clothes, but for some reason, nothing seemed good enough.

"Ugh, this is ridiculous!"

It was ridiculous, how much time she had spent on finding the perfect outfit. But for some reason she wanted to look nice for their date- wait, what? Since when had she been thinking of this as a date?!

A knock sounded at her door, three sharp raps, and she knew immediately that it was Nikolai.

"Shit!" she whispered, the word leaving her mouth like a hiss. "Uh, one minute!" She heard muffled laughter (the bastard), and hopped around the room, picking up random items and pulling them on as quickly as she could. Running over to the door, she yanked it open, revealing her Golden Boy, hands in his pockets, looking effortlessly handsome in his simple white shirt and black slacks.

"Are you sure you want to wear that? I know I said I wouldn't judge you, but this outfit is really quite something." He was trying to hide his smirk incredibly unsuccessfully, and she slapped him on the arm, sending him a glare.

"Look, I'm struggling, okay? You haven't told me anything about where we're going, and I have no idea what I should wear!"

"Just... okay." He walked around the small room, rummaging through the various piles of clothes, discarding most and throwing them to the side. "Aha! Here, put these on." He shoved the articles he'd gathered into her hands, then pushed her behind the screen she'd put up in the corner of the room. Changing quickly, and definitely not almost falling over multiple times, she emerged five minutes later, dressed in the blouse and long skirt he'd picked out for her.

"Alright, fine. Can we go now?"

"Hmm?" He turned around, then froze, staring at her.

"What? You were the one that chose this outfit, if there's a problem it's your fault!"

"No! No, it's not that, you just... you look... good," he finished quietly, blushing.

"Oh," she replied, her own blush heating up her cheeks. "Well, um... let me just put my shoes on, and then we can go." He nodded, and watched as she laced up her boots. Opening the door for her when she was done, Nikolai offered his other arm up to Y/n, and she took it gladly (partly to be closer to him and partly to stop herself falling over from how nervous she was). "Actually, where are we going?"

"A tiny restaurant I found on my first day here; the food is incredible."

The walk was short, and it startled Y/n to realise that Nikolai's guards had come with them, trailing behind at a distance. When she'd asked him about it, he just said that they'd always been there, just out of sight. She wondered how many of their conversations they'd overheard, or if they'd picked up on how much she liked her Golden Boy now. She didn't have much time to ponder, however, as Nikolai pulled her around a corner into a hidden courtyard that, in her entire life living in Ketterdam, she had never noticed before.

"What? Don't you like it? We can go somewhere else, if you want? I just thought tha-"

"You're rambling, Nik. And I do like it, I'm just annoyed that you found this place before I did and you didn't even grow up here!"

"Oh! Well that's alright then. Come on!" He seemed to ignore everything she'd said past 'like it', dragging her along by the arm to a table out the front of the restaurant. They were greeted a few moments later, presented with menus and the specials, then left to decide what they wanted. Y/n made her mind up quickly (a habit she'd picked up from not liking being rushed), then took the time to look around.

The courtyard was small, boxed in by tiny apartments on all sides, some with little balconies overlooking the square. The walls were lined with plants, flowers blooming despite it being late in the year, and small lights littered the spaces in between the leaves. It was gorgeous, and she wondered how often Nikolai had come here. Speaking of Nikolai, she turned back to study him. He seemed to be taking extra time to decide what he wanted, brow furrowed as he browsed the menu, biting a nail as he did so. A strand of his hair had come away from his perfectly styled locks (seriously, who had time for that?), and before she knew what she was doing, Y/n was reaching over and smoothing it back.

Nikolai had looked up as she moved, and was now sat staring at her, eyes wide, as her hand brushed his forehead.

"What," he cleared his throat, "What are you doing?" His voice was shaky, and filled with nerves, and Y/n thought he was adorable like this.

"You had a hair out of place, and it was annoying me," she shrugged, leaning back in her seat. "Have you chosen yet?" He nodded, still looking at her, a dazed expression on his face.

"Yeah, I have," he replied, voice quiet, and Y/n got the distinct feeling that he wasn't talking about the food.

~~~

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, filled with laughter and talking, and never a dull moment. There were silences, yes, but they were comfortable, and the longer the night went on, the more Y/n found herself thinking of it as a date.

He might not be thinking it's a date, though. I don't want to get my hopes up.

When they came to leave, Nikolai paid just like he said he would (much to Y/n's annoyance, because she could have paid for her own meal), and they left the courtyard arm in arm.

They were almost back to the University when Nikolai spoke.

"I had a nice time tonight, Y/n." She'd been looking up at the stars, barely visible through the clouds and making her neck sore, but now she turned her head to face him.

"Me too." They were quiet again for a bit, but then Nikolai started huffing, apparently wanting to say something but not finding the words or the courage. "Spit it out, Lantsov."

"Was this a date?"

His words shocked her, and her mind went blank for a moment. At her lack of answer he grew worried, concern that he'd messed things up crossing his features, and she quickly went to rectify it.

"I'd like it to be. You know, if you would. Obviously if you don't then no, but if you do then that's-"

"I'd like it to be a date, Y/n/n."

"Oh. Good. Okay then." Y/n was quiet for a minute. "Good." She winced at herself, cringing at how awkward she was making it, but luckily they pulled to a stop outside her door, giving her an escape. He was smiling at her, a soft smile reserved for her, not one of the blinding ones he used to win people over, and her heart fluttered.

"Night then. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow, Nik." She went to open her door, pausing for a moment as she made a decision. Reaching up, she planted her lips on his cheek, then hurried inside and slammed the door, leaving him standing in the hallway.

~~~

Three weeks later, Y/n was sat at a table in one of the coffee shops littered around the campus, usually filled with students dead on their feet needing the caffeine to get through a class without falling asleep. She had her notes out in front of her, working her way through an essay she had to write, when a book slammed on the table, making her jump. She looked up, immediately finding the perpetrator.

"What the fuck, Nik? Why would you- oh shit. No. Not that face. That's your 'I have an idea that you won't approve of' face, and we both know what happened last time."

He'd fallen off a wall trying to climb it, saying he could sneak into the principal's office from there. He'd ended up concussed.

"That is not a face I have, and anyway, you've only known me for like, a month, Y/n/n, how do you know what my faces are already?"

"I'm good at reading people," she shrugged. "Go on, spit it out."

"Hear me out," he said, excitement creeping into his voice. He lifted the book in front of him.

"Privateering for dummies? Nik, seriously, what are you gonna do?" He frowned, turning the book to read the title.

"Shit, I picked up the wrong one. I know the basics already, just wanted to learn some history really. Must have left in such a hurry I didn't get the right book."

"What do you mean, you know the basics? You're going round attacking enemy ships in your spare time? Wait, is that why you bailed on me the other day?"

"I didn't bail on you, I forgot, and was busy with something else, so can we please move on from that. And no, I'm not a privateer yet, I just..." he sighed, finally sitting down. "I can't stay here, Y/n/n. I'm bored as fuck and while you are amazing, and learning languages with you is great, I need to be doing more. You know what I'm like, always fidgeting. I think this will be good for me."

"One, you need to actually tell me what you were doing to bail on me, and then we can move on. Two, I know I'm amazing, but thank you for the extra validation. Three, why privateering? Why not become a mechanic or something? And four - don't look at me like that! You can't come in here, dump that information on me and then expect me to just smile and go along with it! Four, what about your obligations? Won't people notice that the second prince of Ravka has disappeared, and then not long later a privateer that looks remarkably like Nikolai Lantsov turns up?"

"All valid points. If you must know, I completely forgot we had plans, and I feel really bad about it, but at the same time I was reading this incredible book that I couldn't put down, and then there was a really hot sex scene, and I-""

"Okay! I don't need the details, thank you!"

"Fine, fine," he said, dodging the straw she threw at him. "Privateering because when I was travelling over here, and this is going to sound really cheesy, but I just felt... at home. I felt more like me than I had for a long time, and when you've spent your life cooped up in a palace, although not cooped up, 'cause it's a big space, but you know what I mean," he paused, frowning as he tried to remember his train of thought. "It felt so free out there, nothing but water as far as the eye can see, and I don't know, maybe I could do more for Ravka out there than I ever could as the spare. As for your fourth point, I'll get tailored, change what I look like, keep a low profile for a little while so the timings don't quite match up."

Y/n was silent for a while, contemplating everything he'd said. "When would you leave?"

"We would leave next week, I've already made arrangements for a couple of things, but pretty much everything else will have to be done on the night, because I can't get everything past my guards. What? What's that face for?"

"'We'?" she asked quietly. "What do you mean 'we'?"

"Aren't... you're not coming with me?" He looked confused, and gods bless him he wore his heart on his sleeve, because his expression was so genuine and so lost that she immediately felt bad for what she was about to say.

"No, Nik," she started gently. "I can't go with you, not when I've worked my ass off my whole life to get here. I need this degree to get a proper job, so that I can support my family, and being with you won't help that." She saw hurt flash across his face, which quickly morphed into a neutral expression, attempted boredom covering up any real feelings.

"Being with me?"

"You know, going and being a privateer with you. Obviously I don't mean literally being with you, or we wouldn't be together, but abandoning all of this? I'm sorry, Nik, but I can't do it, not even for you." He nodded, still no sign of any emotion on his face, and even when she tried hard to read him, Y/n got nothing. She felt horrible, knowing that she was the one that had made her sweet Golden Boy look numb inside, but she couldn't take back her words. She'd worked too hard for this life, and no matter what she felt for the man sitting opposite her, she couldn't just give it up. He stood, taking Privateering for Dummies with him, and left the coffee shop without looking back.

~~~

The next few days were excruciating, having to spend all of her classes with him trying to make conversation while he tried to ignore her, or when he had no choice but to speak to her, answering in short sentences. The professor had noticed, and one lesson asked if Y/n wanted to move, but she'd said no, not wanting to give up just yet. She'd be damned if Nikolai left while they were still on bad terms.

After one particularly painful lesson where he'd spent the entire time pretending he couldn't hear her because his ears were blocked from the bath he took that morning (a blatant lie, she was sure), Y/n approached his dorm door, knocking firmly. It swung open not long after, revealing Nikolai, hair mussed and bags under his eyes. Upon realising who was stood at his door, he went to close it, but Y/n snuck in under his arm, moving to stand in the middle of the room. It was a mess, clothes everywhere, bed unmade, books and papers scattered on every surface. Normally he was the picture of tidiness, and seeing his room so chaotic made her heart hurt. "Nik," she began.

"Just go, please." His voice was tired, assumedly from his lack of sleep, and she started walking towards the door. He opened it back up for her, but Y/n threw her arms around him instead, bringing him into a hug.

"I'm sorry, Nik. I'm so so sorry. Why didn't you tell me you were like this?"

"I didn't want you to worry, darling." He was sniffling against her neck as he wrapped his own arms around her. The pet name made her heart skip a beat, and she didn't understand why he wouldn't tell his girlfriend that he'd been in such a state.

"I'll always worry about you, Nik, you're my best friend," she replied. "And also my partner, which makes the worry doubled."

"Please, just go. I'm leaving tonight anyway, and I'd rather I didn't get caught and drag you down with me." He pulled away from her, wiping his eyes and going to pack more things away. Now that she understood that tonight was the night, she realised that his room was a mess because he was leaving.

"I don't want you to go on bad terms, Nik. What if something happens to you before we see each other again and we don't get a chance to work things out?" Desperation had crept into her voice now, but Y/n didn't care. Not when tomorrow she would be alone again. "Please, just talk to me, we'll figure this out."

He shook his head, shoving more things into the bag on his bed. He pulled on a thick jumper, ears popping out as it came over his head and hair somehow more tousled than it had been before. "There isn't anything to figure out. I want to go, and you want to stay. I was just doing damage control so that when I left it hurt less."

"This is hurting more, Nik, can't you see that? I've spent the last however many days thinking that you hate me because you won't even talk to me, let alone look at me! You might think that what you did was better, but it's not, not in the slightest. Because now I'm scared that you'll just keep pushing me away, instead of helping fix this, and I don't want you to push me away!" He flinched as her voice rose, but she couldn't bring herself to care, not when she now had tears streaming down her cheeks and a lump in her throat at the idea that maybe he was just like all the other rich people, and she was just a charity case to him. She'd been stupid to trust him, to think that he was different, and when he didn't say anything, she huffed, suspicions confirmed. "Fine. Fine. But don't come running back to me the next time you're in Ketterdam because you want someone to be your friend, because I won't be there." She pulled her necklace out, chucking it on the bed. "Keep it, so that you can remember how badly you fucked this up every day you're out on the True Sea."

She was being bitter again, just like when they'd first met, but now she had good reason. She wanted him to have a reminder of her, and her necklace would be perfect. Nikolai was still silent, stood by his bed and staring blankly at the object she'd thrown his way, and when she closed the door behind her, the silver of it was glinting cruelly in the light of his lamp.

Part 2