#I've read other bits and bobs

[iplayghoul]

let the light in

xx: cowboys! eren & onyankopon x reader . .

9.9k words — life on a ranch, porn with plot, tension, feelings, eventual sex, fucking in.. mud & rain, reader is referred to as 'she', 'girlie' etc, use of 'daddy', lots of spit & being dirty, reader is a country bumpkin, light arguing, thumb in ass, pussy spanking, spitroasting, cunnilingus, crying, some squirting & creaming, lots of shortened words & punctuation (country dialect duhh), not proof read sorry, awkward moments.

notes: been writin dis since december 2023... enjoy u guys :] rbgs appreciated

“hiya mrs. brown!”

worn out boots of marble cake pink and brown swirls, graze the dirtied gravel near the elderly woman's cottage as you slip from the horse. mary-lou, you affectionately call her, dusting her pinked moist nose with a pat before hobbling onto the stone path. over the horizon, the pastel orange and yellows of the sun threaten to melt into your skin, kissing it golden as the morning begins and so do your deliveries. 

golden-blonde, french curl braids woven into your roots fall past your lower back ending in thick, loose curls, some held together by bows and others hair clips. they bounced with every step. mrs. brown was the first on your list of deliveries today. on cool mornings like this when spring teases its approach, you often bake little treats for the other villagers. apple tarts, blueberry jellies, cherry pies with freshly picked fruits, warm buttery honey-milk breads and healthy breakfast muffins: all made with ingredients grown at home! but, we'll explore the garden later.

calling this a village was a bit of a stretch, realistically, a happy delusion at most. acres of farm property was shared by each of the residents whose homes were nearby, despite the farm areas creating distances of land behind them. tok, tok, tok! the haste below mary-lou's hooves pulled you back to your task as you rearranged the goodies and stepped onto the wooden plank. mrs. brown sat atop her rocking chair, crocheting a blanket you'd commissioned. a chuckle, “ [  ] , dearest, always in y’head, aren't yuh?” mrs. brown softly muttered, deep brown skin crumpled besides her lips, short pastel curls tickling her ears. hands busied with the neapolitan coloured yarn. her countryside twang was a pleasant aerated tone, reminding you of your own parents. 

you huff and offer a smile. “mrs. brown I've—”, “must I remind you, dearest, eleonora,” the playfulness in her voice offers it a quiver. “and let me guess . . . cherry pie?” thin, quivering lips stretch to a smile, your plump ones mimic hers as you nod with a sweetened expression. “yes, eleonora, I know how much y’love cherry pies n’–”, “and my grandson does too, y'know!” you stop to stare at her as she wears nothing but a smug look on her face, her head bobbing side to side with a ‘you know damn well’ manner. 

eleonora lived mostly alone. when her daughter married, giving her a sole grandson they'd moved to the city. luckily for her, and you, her grandson moved back on his own to the country. he fixed cars, motorcycles, tractors– you name it, he's got it covered. she said his name was onyankopon or, ony’. to be honest, you spied around one time to catch a glimpse of him. back when you first moved in and eleonora became immediately smitten with the idea of you and her grandson as potential lovers, you snuck around where ony's ranch was, peaking at who the man could be. you barely saw him really, the small flash of him you saw all greasy with engine oil was so far away! but infatuation always grew in you from a small bud, slowly growing before flower petals started spilling out your throat.

“are ya’ stoppin by him too, darlin’?” she pries further, “I ‘dunno els’ . . . y'know I haven't actually met ‘em right?”, “oh I know dear,'' she breathes, “ he's strong, he's tall, he surely is handy ‘round the house and- and he's not ‘onna dem toxic masculine things i hear ‘bout on the Internet! I think he's had a boyfrien’ b'fore, that must count!” she relieves your hands of the heavy treats while speaking, “eleonora . . .”, “c'mon darlin’, you've got t'get married someday, n’ imma’ be the flower gal!” 

all you can do is shake your head and accept the sweet kiss to the cheek she offers you before trotting back to your horse. mary-lou grew rather impatient! settling her brown and white spotted body to the ground awaiting your return. to be completely honest, you craved love. the partying, sex and relationships of college got old and moving here right after left you high and dry with the weight of ‘unlovable’ bearing down on your shoulders. the lack of men your age was . . . a troublesome dilemma but who were you to complain? you hiked yourself back onto mary-lou and continued your journey to the next cottage home. 

looking over the blueberry skies and whipped cream clouds kept you in grandiose delusions of a love so pure and sweet, like powdered sugar that you could indulge in, maybe one day.

♡

“down girl, down!” 

The rough, deep voice shakes the silence near the upcoming ranch. after your deliveries, you'd end up with a few apple-cherry tarts remaining, sometimes the neighbours are vacationing in the city, or insist you keep some! by this time, the sun shone fully now, its warmth tingling your skin. “awe, shucks, man!” another voice caused your brows to furrow, peering up ahead at the ranch . . . the one in which eleonora's grandson resided. from what you could see without the sun in your eyes, two men of tall statures– roughhousing with gorgeous horses. the one in the cowboy's hat was doing a terrible job of trying to calm one of them. their manes were a beautiful silky white, shining healthily under the sun as they lifted their front legs to the air before trotting around the . . . shirtless men again. mother would scold you now if she could see you openly ogling at the two, you push that thought to the back of your mind.

mary-lou slows on your command beside their ranch gate, huffing and happily shaking out her mane as she watches the other horses play. something possesses you to hop off with the remaining tarts, awkwardly shuffling to the fence– your pink-brown boots were worn mismatched to your strapless white lace top and similar mini-skirt. “uh . . . howdy there fellas!” both men turned to your direction, blocking their eyes from the sun and beginning to stroll over.

the closer view made your breath catch in your throat. the one on the left, you assume is el's grandson, his skin was a dark mahogany brown, he glistened slightly with sweat in the sun, deeply defined muscles prelude veins below his belly button then covered by bright blue jeans and black cowboy boots to match his hat.

he had a handsome face. 

thick two-toned lips spread to reveal a bright smile, a few teeth plated with gold caps as he teased the man to his right. this man had dark, black, shining curls that rested atop his shoulders, two eyebrow slits decorated with piercings, matching ones on his . . . pretty lips. his skin was a dusted tan, sunkissed tone and he wore black jeans atop his brown boots. You couldn't miss the tattoos that crept up the side of his abdominals, you were curious.

“how c'n we help ya’, miss?” the left spoke up and your cheeks felt hot, it's been a while since you heard that pet name, you chalked it up to the blazing sun. “well, uh, you're eleonora's grandson, right?” you nibble on your nails nervously, he nods, “I just . . . thought it’d be nice to give y'all these extra treats i baked.” pushing the basket in their direction and allowing the dark haired one to peep under the cloth, he had a mischievous look to him and he elbowed the other in the ribs with a slick smile, “wass ya’ name, pretty? ‘m eren, dis is ony’,” he pointed between them, “ n’ y’made these y’self, ma’?” eren pulls out a tart, staring down at you through long eyelashes, “oh! uh I‘m [  ], n’ yes! I did n' I grew all'em fruits m'self too!” you bounce on the heels of your boots, nervously.

ony’ stays mostly quiet you've noticed, taking in your outfit as well, his eyes raking over you. eren warmly feeds him a bite of the tart as their horses trot over to mingle with mary-lou. “how long ya’ been livin’ ‘round here, sugar?” ony’ speaks up soft and mellow, grabbing himself his own tart to taste. eren reaches out to pet mary-lou. “i guess it’s been a about a year now! y’see i moved out ‘round here after college.” you nibbled your shiney bottom lip, “what ‘bout y’all? your grandma talks ‘bout you all the time, but, i ain’t really seen you round here?” you turn to eren who makes a kissy face at mary-lou before turning to you. “i mostly tend to the farm ma’, as y’can tell, ‘m better with the animals than ony’ here.” he flashes you a smile and props his arms against the fence biting his lip and lowering closer to your eye level. ony’ playfully smacks his arm, flashing a gorgeous smile with his gold teeth sparkling in the sun, “shut up, man.”

you look away quickly, catching yourself staring at his lips, he certainly doesn't miss it. you totally push the basket towards eren’s arms, “y’c’n have the basket y’know i always weave more, i’ve gotta get goin, now,” you rush, “wait– take m’ number, pretty,” eren offers before reciting it a couple times so you’ve got it down. “n’ which onna’ these ranches ‘s yours, mama?”, you're mounting mary-lou once more, “it's not too far! it's the ranch with the blue fence n’ the pond out front!” 

♡

the days after that remained uneventful, with no deliveries of any kind, you preferred to remain on the ranch tending to the animals and house work. you'd never texted eren, only saved his number and stalked his contact profile . . . and opened his chat section many-a-times without saying anything. taking a liking to someone new is hard. you don't forget the many times a partner toyed with you, assuming innocence and naivity of you based soley off your appearance, then doing whatever they'd wanted behind your back. you were past that now, hopefully at least; the concrete walls you used to block others out wasn't something you'd liked to be reminded of.

padding out the back door, the coldness of the stone path chills beneath your bare feet. your toes painted with the cutest design within your artistic range, accompanied by the musical arrangement of your anklet. you pick up a dirtied bucket with the many things you'd needed to complete your chores for the morning, taking a long look at the expanse of the ranch. 

a deep breath of clean air, healthy green fields relieve your eyes of their stress; partly cloudy skies was the forecast! weather for hanging outside, the cumulus clouds indicated it to be the perfect day for fishing too! the pond was still, the little lambs were just waking up in their pen, the gardenias were blooming; the white dexter cattle mulled around, seemingly bored behind the fence. just as you begin to walk by with the bucket of feed, the cows behind let out soft, deep ‘mooooo’s’: a ‘good morning!’ greeting in their own way. each receiving gentle pets to their fur.

your mental list of duties was shorter today: pet the cattle, inspect the lambs & brush their fur, throw feed for the chickens & clean their coupes, feed the dogs, feed the fish.

you couldn't help but wear your best little dress to do the tasks today, a simple white thing that cupped your breasts just right. “oh, how are ya’ buttercup!” you squealed in delight as the silky white wolf dog rushed up to lick your feet, his opposite onyx counterpart, bentley offered a short bark to show her delight, sitting peacefully and obediently. she'd recently fallen pregnant with pups, confusing as you'd given both animals the proper precautionary procedures! while filling their food bowls, you couldn't help but be reminded of eren and ony’. your toes dug into the grass a bit, excited at the idea of . . . sharing your home with someone else again. both men seemed pleasant, highly attractive, but feelings always confused you. perhaps they were only being decent human beings to you, nothing more.

to be honest, you hadn't had the best history with relationships. it's part of– it's one of the main reasons you'd decided to move out to the countryside. casual sex was fine, yeah, whatever, you enjoyed it. however, when it comes to your relationships, you refuse to believe you attract shitty people. from making fun of how excited your are by things, to the way you dressed, wore your makeup, your hair, how you cry— the whole works had been used against you. there was only so much of it you could handle. moving away meant . . . fresh start, new people, new experiences. and most importantly, a place where everyone did as they pleased. as much as people think gossip goes around in small villages, the country area was mostly pleasant. neighbours traded crops for items, enjoyed each other's company and minded their own business.

sitting beside the pond, bentley and buttercup eagerly cuddled up at your side; the joy this life brought you was comparable to hot chocolate at the end of a winter day. now you think about how long its been since you could cuddle someone on a cold day. it probably hasn't been since your mother was alive. now was a good time to visit eleonora.

♡

a raspberry lemon loaf warmed your hands as the weather began to cool. the trudge to eleonora's ranch was tranquil, pleasant animals, butterflies and chirping birds kept you occupied for most of it. that is, until your boots dragged to a stop in the dirt, noticing a familiar face in el's front yard. 

onyankopon's hair was short, brushed into smooth waves atop his head and faded on the sides, revealed by the lack of cowboy hat. he was shirtless, once again, knee deep in the dirt of his grandmother's yard where he dug the soil for new plants. you swallow, nibbling a plump lip that made your mouth spring from the strawberry flavoured gloss. a colder breeze blew up under your thighs, blowing your simple little dress slightly; furrowing your brows with concern as you peered at the beautiful bright sky, you force yourself to walk up to the gate and begin to unlatch it. 

eren's grassy green eyes meet you first, his hands busily feeding a plump cherry into his mouth. pretty pink lips sucked them in, unwelcoming to the juicy red droplets that escaped the cherry. he licks his lips to pull them in. you take a deep breath and focus on not dropping the raspberry lemon loaf. “h-hiya everybody!” you greet, noticing eleonora seated in her usual spot on the rocking chair of her porch while observing the two men. 

you hold the loaf somewhat close to you and swallow hard, walking along the stone path of which both men were at either side of. ony’ in the dirt and eren manspreading on the front steps. you held eyes with the ground. “howdy ony’, eren, nice to see you two ‘gain,” you say in a pleasant mumble as you make way up the stairs to eleonora. “brought you this raspberry lemon loaf els’!” you look at her smiling slightly, caught off guard by that signature smug look she held. what insane thoughts about your love life could she be brewing now? the silence from the two men was noticeable too, you were sure they'd turn to look at you as you presented the treat for el’, “my, my! well doesn't this just look lovely!” she claps clammy hands clad in flower themed rings and laughs jolly. “ony’, son, could you get us some tissues n’ forks? oh- n’ eren darlin’ why don't you bring out the pitcher ‘f lemonade with s'm glasses.” the two men stand as she calls upon them, uttering out their deep ‘yes ma'am's’ as they towered above you in walking by. your eyes trailed them slightly before turning back to eleonora who never (not once) misses your silent pining.

ony’ wore his jeans low on his waist, the band of his boxers showed off its maker's name. eren, on the other hand, wore a white wife-beater below unbuckled blue overalls, leaving them hanging over at his waist. “so, have ya’ found y'self a boyfren’, honey?” eleanora asks somewhat loudly as the two men shuffle around the kitchen bearby and your eye widen. “now what kinda’ question is that els’?” you sputtered, “you know I haven't got one.” eleonora giggles like a school girl. you take a cool seat onto the steps. eren and ony’ share small smiles as they return with lemonade and dishes. ony’ takes a seat in a chair opposite eleonora, elevated above you whilst eren makes himself comfortable back in his spot across from you on the steps. raspberry lemon loaf is shared around with the cool glasses of not-too-sweet lemonade to wash it down, eating brought silence besides low groans from the two men who seemed to enjoy your baking. their groans were not sensual, but pressing your thighs together was still a must as a reaction to the unexpected sounds of pleasure. fuck, you felt like a creep. eleonora complimented your skills, asking, “[  ] , did ya’ grow these in the box gardens y'made?” you nod and swallow quickly, all attention to you as eren mumbles ‘box garden?'. ``yea els’, the box gardens ar’ doin’ great, but I've got some extra wood around I think I'mma try to make a few more like the boxes I bought from the market!” eleonora smiles as if she were expecting to hear you randomly bring up your recycling duties. 

“ony’, can't you n’ eren build those boxes f’[  ]? I strongly believe lil’ ol’ her shouldn't handle all dat’ wood . . .” you internally blush deeply at the innuendo and take the final bite of your slice of the loaf. eren speaks up, “y'sure right on we can, els’ . . . y'okay wit’ us helpin’ y'out ma?” he takes a quick glance up at ony, locking eyes with him who also lets his stare above you burn into your scalp. “s– sure, I don't mind!” you mutter out lightly and eleonora gives a jolly clap, “well ain't that just darlin’! the day's young, y'all can get started right now!” you have to hold your breath to avoid your last sip of lemonade going down your larynx. the two men mentioned how they're not busy the rest of the day and wouldn't mind before you can even collect yourself. somehow, coming over to eleonora always results in you being roped into another scheme of hers.

and just like that, you found yourself on a quiet . . . and awkward walk back to your ranch with the two young men following closely behind you. anxiety bubbled in your stomach, clamping your lips shut to avoid letting the insecure feeling from escaping your lips. the nerves were getting to you with every second that passed by. “s-so, uh– wassup wit y'all ‘round here?” they both walk up to match your pace. “oh, well, ony here prefers to do all the technical shit like– fixin’ cars n’ all'at.” eren shoves his palms into the pockets of his overalls, walking up ahead where he could look back at the two of you while talking, he maintains glances with onyankopon that you just don't seem to understand. “I prefer to stay on the ranch n’ watch the animals– y'got any besides that horsie?” 

“oh– yea i've got m’ horse, mary-lou, two wolfies: bentley n’ buttercup.” a sweet smile stretches on your face, tummy warming a bit. “oh! and I've got names f'all my fish in the pond, my little lambs– oh they're just the cutest! a–and my fluffy cows! they're lovely,” you clasp your hands in excitement, eyes following your footsteps, sputtering happily over the animals. “gosh, n’ I'm tryin’ out a little butterfly area in my front garden, but m’ not the best at it, can’t tame butterflies y’know— they pee on ya’ too! that's fuckin’ crazy,” you reveal with a giggle. as you look up to ask the two a question, you can't help but blush, embarrassingly at that. eren and ony stared at you with pleasant smiles, deeply dimpled too. “oh my, m’ sorry for my ramblin’ how rude of me–”,”no. no, keep talkin’ pretty.” ony's deep voice encourages you and you peer curiously at him: trying to figure him out. he turns away from you licking his lips and spares eren a look before he starts walking again. it urges you both to continue onto the ranch as well, eren shakes his head with a chuckle; he thinks he’s got a handful on his hands. 

“y’got a boyfren’ ‘round here, [  ] ?” eren brushes hair over his shoulders, asking the question calmly whilst maintaining a look up the path, ony’s arm brushed yours as he walked close by. “well– no, what about you?” you melt your lips together before stuttering out,”wait, not– i mean, girlfriend . . . well– i don’t care–!” ony barks out a laugh while eren turns around to give you a bright smile, all three of you burst into giggles. “nah, no girlfren’ or boyfren’, ma’.” ony speaks up gently, “but, uh– me n’ E’ might be lookin’ for a third to make us official, i dunno.” your eyes widen but ony gives a nonchalant shrug, handsome face glowing with a smug smile like he didn't just drop #thebomb on you. it reminded you of his grandmother, you look to eren who’s looking back at you and onyankopon with just a slight grin and your breath catches in your throat. “oh! there’s the ranch just up ahead,” you blurt out and skip past eren, scurrying over to unlatch the gate to your front garden as the two followed you in.

now your heart felt like it could melt. like– like a huge strawberry ready to burst! what did ony’ mean by that?  oh, how you felt like a dizzy little dove. luckily the dogs rushed up to you, excitable and ready to meet the new visitors who they eagerly sniffed. ony’ and eren were happy to roughhouse on sight laughing with the dogs and complimenting the patch of primula's you were trying to grow, the pretty pinki-ish flowers were just beautiful. you lead them through your home, overly conscious about each step you took while they surely eyed every nook and cranny of your decor. “um- y'guys need anything? I've got some snacks . . .”, “nah, we're good,” eren mumbled, sounding obviously distracted by their nosey observations of your living space. you hear the tone of your dryer going off just as you unlatch the netted back door that served as another layer next to the already opened wooden one. 

“holy shit,” ony’ whispered, your organization of the backyard was impeccable. clean and solid fencing around the cows, plants on the left with storage on the other. you left the two to walk out into the cold breeze that passed by as they observe the surroundings and the pile of wood waiting for them; all while you quickly rushed to the laundry room nearby to dislodge your clothing and stuff them into a basket. you hurry back out to join them.

“so, here's one of the other boxes i made,” you gesture to the dirty box filled with planted Spanish thyme, “i know it looks kinda wonky but, hopefully you guys can do better,” you offer an awkward laugh and sit on the back steps, legs crossed. 

eren and onyankopon share a look, then grab some planks bringing them more into your line of view with some of the tools nearby and sitting in the grass. even in your own home, you felt a little out of place. in silence, eren and ony’ shared alot of chemistry you didn't understand. despite this, what ony’ said on the way here never left your mind. “y'guys got alot ‘f experience . . . relationship-wise?” you scratch behind your ear. they worked separately lining up wood and nailing them into place, muscles working diligently. “mm, yea. ‘guess y'can say that ma',” eren glances at ony who hums low and offers you a small smile.

“it's jus’ that– ‘m thinkin’ ‘bout watchu said earlier . . .” you blink, fumbling, “unless that was like a joke ‘r somethin’—”

“i wasn't joking.” onyankopon confirms calmly, his jaw tight. you allow the silence to continue for a few beats, eyes flickering back and forth between the two and your hands petting the dogs that came to lay beside you. “we don't expect ya’ to jus’ trust us like that, missy,” eren offers gently, shoving his curls into a small bun and you nibble your bottom lip. 

ony's brows furrow and he's hammering the last few nails into his box before he speaks up. “how c'n we get to know you ma’? me n’ E’ been . . . chillin’ for over a year. since college, actually, n’ we been watchin’ y'too. w’dont expect you to feel the way we do in 10 minutes or even in a day. let us get t'know you.” you squint a little.

“y'serious?” your chest feels a little hot and you're praying to the gods you don't fuck this up. “c's i don't intend on gettin played wit’ ‘specially not out here, y’hear me?” and you don't mean to raise your voice a little, the sounds just flow out. “hey, hey now,” eren pushes his finished work aside and stands, tugging his overalls up, hands resting on his hips. “we don't got no bad intentions, sugar, chill wit’ us,” and you blink up at him, unmoved.

“m'kay, let's just say i decided to ‘chill’ wit’ y'guys,” you stand up, fold your arms and start, “what exactly are we g'nna do, hm?” you look back and forth between them, not missing the way your buttercup whines on the steps where she lay, evidently fed up with all the chatter. “y'got 3 seconds n’ don't say sex. one,” 

“who said anythin’ ‘bout sex?” ony’ joins you two as he puts the tools down, “two,” “yea, y'better shut that shit up. let's bake sumn together, show us around y'day, hang wit’ us at our ranch, talk about shit. fuck y’mean sex?” you stubbornly stay silent and stare. eren’s jaw bone pokes out with the way he clenches it. “we're not lookin’ for sex. if we wanted sex from you we coulda seduced you a long time ago, sugar,” he shrugs with a smile and you lick your lips, sighing. “okay, ‘m sorry. I’–I'm such a bad host,” you mutter out, “y'all want anything to eat? or some water.” you hear a low ‘okay’ from ony’ so you shuffle away to the kitchen to grab some bottles for them.

you tried to focus on the coldness of the bottles on the way back as a way to cool your temperament. “i moved out here wit’ intention ‘f startin’ fresh n’ shit.” you start, tossing them bottles before plopping yourself beside buttercup who nuzzled her cold nose into your thigh. the two men were sitting once again, evidently having spoken to each other in your absence.

your voice was shaky as you took a deep breath, garnering the courage to speak up for how you felt, “i'm tired of gettin’ dogged out, n’ played wit’ n’ allat bullshit.” you pout.

“‘m not exactly sure how gettin’ involved wit’ two handsom’ fellas is gonna help me figure out to– to i dunno, regulate m’ emotions.” you frown and shove some braids back behind your ear, “s’ like i damn near avoided it– i moved back t’the country damnit.” a sigh, “i cant just figure out how to adore n’ love– people again or if i'mma be able t'dish it out as much as before.”

“you get what i mean?” your ramble ceased as you finally look up from your focus on your knees and look back and forth between ony and eren. ony chuckles softly while eren offers you a smile and speaks up.

“we'll take it slow, you'n gotta ‘love’ anybody yet, mama,” ony nods at his words, “gotta build a friendship wit'chu first, we not playin’ ‘round.” 

♡

a week or so passes in which life goes by as normal. you spend your days busying yourself with gardening and grooming your animals, baking treats and new concoctions. the only exception is eren and onyankopon have somehow easily squeezed themselves into your life.

on your deliveries you hear, “howdy, ma',” they chase across their lawn and hop across the fence to drag you inside and sit you down in the warm house where the two eagerly pester you to try the . . . ‘shrimp alfredo’ they whipped up. 

thus, the two would end up in your kitchen, breathing over your hair whilst you instructed them on the proper technique. “naw, i don’ told E to do all'at,” onyankopon protests. so too do they pester mary-lou and your dogs, roughhousing and giving them baths much to their dismay.

through many experiences you learn, onyankopon isn't particularly fond of being tickled, or of wearing shirts. he stays shirtless almost all twenty-four hours of the day and you can only avert your eyes. eren is obsessed with overalls and has an array of them: gray ones, distressed ones, short ones, and he never buckles them properly.. on the ranch, the two gorgeous white haired horses were named armin and reiner, two friends they shared from college. sparkling like diamonds as you're given the opportunity to ride them each around the boys’ ranch in the golden sun. you'd also learned that the two were sexually . . . fluid, they'd called it. vaguely, they'd mentioned their sex lives and based on what they said you couldn't help but assume they were talking about each other. who else was there out here except you?

“yeeehaw! can't catch up, can'ya’?” eren howls and shouts as he trots across the ranch on his horse, ony lagging behind in the chase. here you sat on a wooden little bench near the steps of ony' and eren's ranch; clad in a simple white cropped tank and blue jeans with a chunky belt, your cream coloured cowboy hat sit pretty atop your head. a pretty calico cat licked at your bare feet and nudged you for pets. 

at this point, you felt yourself slipping. it was obvious by now you'd grown to enjoy each other's company and serious conversations were imminent.

what were we, how will the dynamics work, what would they expect from you? just then you felt a tap to your forehead.

“heya, girlie,” eren squats down before you to grab your attention, “watchu, thinkin’ ‘bout,” ony’ mumbled, toying with a toothpick between his teeth. 

you smack glossy lips together, “jus’. . . ‘bout us three y'know? how- like, where do we go fr'm here huh?” your eyes flutter, cheeks warming. you feel the silence actually, eren and ony’ are doing that stupid thing where they talk to each other with their eyes. 

butterflies flap their wings about, joyous as ever. it makes you smile a little, as you're beginning to grow nervous. “let's talk inside ma’,” onyankopon suggests, stepping past you into the house where eren follows. 

“me n’ ‘ren c'n take care ‘f each other n’ you, know that?” 

you all shuffle onto the dark gray couch in the living space. ony’ and eren's ranch had a deep modern aesthetic. dark oak accents adorned both the outside and inside, complimented by gray and brown shades of furniture. 

“i know that . . . ,” you pout, 

“so wassup,” eren stares you down, the emerald swirl of his eyes warmed your belly yet you couldn't maintain eye contact with him for long, eren just had that kind of stare without realizing it himself.

“‘m g'nna be frank, ion wanna impose on nothin’ y'folks got . . . n’ my past relationships ain't been the best.” you huff and continue, “‘m jus’ puttin’ that out there. i feel like we've been talkin’ for a while n' I'm fond of y'all.” 

“i jus’ don't wanna be the one to mess things up,” you finish in a whisper. 

onyankopon hums low and eren plays with his lip ring, “n’ das’ all, girlie?” he asks and pursed his lips, dimple deepening at that. you give a nod and a small ‘yup’ while intertwining your hands onto your knees that were pressed together. “y’ talk to us, we talk to you, got that? if it's an issue y'got: don't hesitate to let us know,” ony’ iterates.

eren makes a noise of agreement, “y’communicate everythin’ wit us, sugar, we're serious,” and you nod slowly. “‘kay . . . i get that,” your eyes feel a little wet with emotion, ones you're not too sure of yourself.

you were happy to hear them affirming their commitment yet still anxious for the future. regardless, you couldn't help but lurch forward, you grab the back of eren's neck to press a sweet strawberry jelly flavoured kiss to his cheek, leaving a baby pink glossy print on his cheek along with a loud ‘mwah’ as you smiled. similarly, you crawl over his lap to do the same to ony’ who only bit back a grin, gold capped teeth glistening in the light much like the glossed smudge on his face.

♡

inevitably came the days you'd call the ‘honeymoon’ phase in a relationship, except it lasted what felt like forever.

these days you preferred to be cuddled up in your bedroom, legs being warmed by a black, gray and white blanket you were committed to crocheting. with a couple dark, gloomy days where the usual creamy clouds frowned down on you, the animals often retreated to their pens and little beds of hay to seek warmed from stormy weather. buttercup and bently invaded each others personal space in their dog beds down at the living room, you smile a little at the thought.

“yeen gotta be like that, ony’,” you hear eren groan in a mischievous pout as the two men exit your bathroom smelling of your bath soap. onyankopon mumbles something of ‘’s a stupid idea’. you giggle under your breath, hands hard at work weaving and looping the thick yarn for the blanket. 

“ [  ] , watchu’ think, sugar?” eren plops himself onto the bed, “hm?” still fixated on your progress, ony’ huffs from his seat on the ottoman, lotioning his chest and arms then turning back to rub some excess onto eren's foot. “i told ony’, let's take the horses f’ a ride, ma’, he talkin’ bout ‘oh it's rainy’, i think it'll be chill,” he smiles big and winks expecting something of an applause for his great idea of fun.

“ion mind whateva’ y'guys wanna do, jus’ once we shower ‘gain after, ‘fore we get sick,” you shake your head at the thought. ony’ smacks his teeth, “c'mon, don't support him.” 

“what, playin’ in the rain is fun, baby!” you chuckle, eren simply props his head on his palm, enthralled by your meticulous work. regardless, he nods mindlessly in agreement at the discussion.

just like that, cowboy hats and boots were thrown on and you head down to the stables to round up the horses. ony’ and eren raced each other down to them before you could even get a word in. the thought reminded you of buttercup and bently who currently settled and slept with one's head atop the other.

the fresh rain smell hits your nostrils quickly, smelling of the humidity off the grass and pitch of the street. you could audibly hear the wind bristling about the bushes as it cooled your skin. all you wore was a thin white tank top, jeans along with your classic pink-brown boots to match your hat. eren and ony’ warmed up the horses, encouraging mary-lou to shake out her mane and trot a little. onyankopon was seated by reiner, rubbing at his legs to warm him a bit and doing the same to armin. of course, you stare unabashedly, his muscles (unclothed) bulged with each motion, waistline visible amid his jeans.

you stare so much so, that you don't even notice eren come up to your side to press a wet kiss to your neck, he wraps an arm around your shoulders and gives your ear a kiss too, “starin’ at my man, girlie?” he laughs boyishly and you swat him, “dat’s m’ man too, freak,” he gasps falsely at the insult and you speed off to grab the harness for mary-lou; ony’ pretends he didn't hear the bickering and mounts his horse.

“s’ not rainin’ all too much now, see?” eren comments, scooping his hair back into a low bun under his hat. the three of you clicked and clocked through the damp grass and onto the street, letting the drizzle of rain moisten your skin with each speckle. you gnaw at your bottom lip, lost in thought as you trail behind the two men. at the same time, another cold gust would brush past you three, drying your skin again. yet, as you flinch when a particularly large droplet mands on your cheek, the rain picks up again and you smile.

sometimes moments like these felt so good, connecting with nature and taking in the beauty of the weather. it didn't stop you from being distracted, eren's white wife-beater was getting soaked. the tattoos creeping up his side peaked through the material and stared right back at you. you bitr back a groan and cover your warming face with your palms, wiping it clean of rain, while eren and onyankopon fall back on their horses. the peaceful silence with nothing but the ‘tock’ of the horses’  hooves kept your mind wandering. 

now drenched, you could only imagine peeling off these clothes, a strap of your flimsy little tank top blew off your shoulder, and you felt the material sticking to the bulge of your breasts nestled in your black bra that now stood out ten times as much. god, you felt like a fuckin’ pervert. you couldn't even bring yourself to look down at your own chest, feeling scandalized enough. something about thinking of yourself in . . . near erotic situations such as this made your clit thump like a sweet little rabbit's nose.

nonetheless, you ignore it and allow the rocking atop mary-lou as she walks to distract you. onyankopon rides his horse nearer to yours and eren does the same, you gasp under your breath when ony’ nudges you. “wassup,” he murmured, “nothin’ ‘m jus’ distracted.” you comment plainly and eren huffs out a laugh beside you. 

all you do is stare down at mary-lou and pet her mane, the pulse between your legs pushed to the back of your mind. “y'so bad at lyin’, know that?” eren laughs, you blush and groan, “no ‘m not, shut up,” 

“chill, chill,” ony’ whispers, in his stupid, sexy, amazing, deep voice and you let out a big shuddering breath. as you're riding you feel ony's wet bicep brushing against yours. this had to be the end of you.

ony’ reaches an arm behind you, stretching to meanly pinch eren's shoulder. you're not sure what that meant but you didn't care to know. “where we ridin’ to?” you ask, rubbing glossy lips together. “mm, let's jus’ head to me n’ ony's ranch,” 

“kay,” you settle with that, sweet n’ soft.

“wanna race, jaeger?” ony’ slips in lowly, pulling ahead and looking back at you two with his. . . stupid handsome smile, “h- hey now, let's not–” and you're interrupted by shouts, “let's go!” eren pulls off.

you groan softly, hiking up mary-lou’s harness a bit as you begin to gallop behind the two men. the raindrops stung against your skin and you whined trying to catch up to the two and your breaths harsh. with each hard breath you let out you couldn't help but let it bubble up into laughter, you just felt so good. 

you felt giddy, blinking away raindrops that attacked at your eyes and racing past the two men, who yelled and called out to you, “yo, ma’ we gon' catch up,” ony's cowboy hat flies back behind his head, held up by the string beneath his string as he pulls the white horse forward chasing after you.

the three of you speed past grunge fencings and rosey bushes all bowing their heads now from the deluge. your tank top was completely soaked, and you imagine so was eren's when you pulled in the gates of their ranch and headed around back where you could free mary-lou to run around in the fenced horse enclosure.

you sit on the ground and linger near the side of the house by some plants, boots kicking about scattered hay and picking up sticky mud. eren and ony’ pull in the same time, wet chests heaving and eyeing you as they quickly hop off and lead their horses to the enclosure. “you win, watchu want?” eren huffs out, swinging his hat off and tossing it to the side, letting the rain seep into his curls. “hm?” you moan while rain kisses you, “i get a prize?” 

he nods and slumping down against the wall next to you and propping his arm on a plant. you take the time to stare at his pecs . . . light brown nipples peaking through at you. eren catches you staring, it forces you to look away quick and brush a wet braid out of your face just as ony’ arrives.

“yall chillin’?” 

“yea . . . mama's chillin’ alright,” eren smiles up at ony who lays in the grass beside you. “she baskin’ in her– win,” eren laments, reaching forward to tickle you and you bark out laughter lurching at him. his fingers pet your ribcage and you grab eren's shoulders, “what the– fuck! eren!” you squeal and wrangle with him. ony’ sits in the wet dirt beside you guys with his hands resting behind his head, basking in the rain and ignoring the shoves and pushes nudging him.

“i swear t’ god ‘ren, you– ack!” eren flips you on your back and you land hard with your head on ony's thigh while he wrangles your hands above your head. digging your feet in the ground for leverage couldn't help with the mud slipping beneath you. onyankopon only hums in amusement, watching you stop struggling beneath eren, your chests bouncing with gasps of air.

“you . . . y'know that's not fair, eren,” “i know what's not fair, sugar?” he stares you down, grip on your wrists tight with his chest pressing against yours. the swell of your breasts popped out of your tank top, glistening and sticky when it touched his skin. “mmm, you want somethin’?” he sucks his lip rings into his mouth teasing you, eyes wide and glossed over, throat drying. you lick your lips and slip from his grasp, sitting up and leaning your back onto ony's chest. just as you make that decision you swallow hard feeling his wet chest through your thin top. you wipe some wetness off your forehead evidently applying some mud that was on your arm to the spot.

you catch your breath, rubbing dirtied arms onto your shirt to clean them as best you could. you felt filthy but god, your fat little cunt ached laying in the dirt. 

“onyan'” you call out to the man behind you with your eyes trained on eren who simply sits back smiling impishly at you, “yea, sugar?” 

“wan’ m’ prize,” it comes out in a whine.

“yeah? ‘n what's that gon’ be,” he murmurs low in your ear, eren still hears him. you let out a ‘hmph!’ deep in your throat. then, you drag dirty hands against your tank top before peeling it off you and above your head, tossing it into some grass elsewhere.

crawling on your knees, ass arching in ony's direction, you gesture to eren with a finger, “come here, c'mon,” and you grab the back of his neck, kissing up his sweaty wet throat licking and sucking up anything your mouth touched. you press your lips to eren's, cold wet metal between you two when you let his tongue into your mouth, sucking it up when your lips lock hot.

eren groans into your mouth, hand gripping at your ass concealed by your jeans and he falls back into the mud. you reveled in the slick sound of your lips separating from each other, tuning out how soaked your jeans were getting in the rain. the ambient pelting sound on the rooftops only edged you on further, sitting in eren's lap.

“fuck, you're nasty,” eren mumbles against your lips when you pull away for a second, fingers toggling with the buttons on his jeans. he resists a big smile, elbows resting in the muddied dirt to hold himself up while you roughly tug his jeans down a bit. just enough room for you to reach his dick.

“see how she treatin’ me, ony'?” eren wipes rain off his nose, locking heavy-lidded eyes with onyankopon then down at you, “she roughin’ me up ‘cause she won,” he grumbles and you pull his cock out.

eren flinches when his dick is exposed to the rain, tan-brown tip oozing pre mixed with droplets. your knees dug into the mud beneath you, ass arching up. you stare shamelessly at eren's dick, letting the saliva build up about your tongue while you press a few kisses to the tip. his breath shudders above you, leaning his head back for the rain to fall on his face. “c'mon, pretty, do watchu want,” you grip him tight, feeling like your palm could memorize the girth and veins that popped out. then, tugging him up slightly, you slot your mouth in the gap between the bottom of his dick to his balls. sucking on the skin, you let you built up salivation drip down his balls, slurping the heavy sack onto your tongue.

you suck eren's balls into your mouth, swirling your tongue around mounds and his mouth drops open revealing his tongue ring. he grins, giving you a loud shameless groan, he was certainly showing off for ony’ who sit behind you watching. “suck it like dat, yea,” eren mumbles to you, licking the rainwater off his lips. he lets you have your way a bit more, focused on your features: the way the rain made your eyelashes clump together, the droplets sliding down your nose, to the spitty goop around your mouth all over his balls.

“c'mon, c'mon,” he pulls your mouth off him with a hand gripping the base of your hair, licking the splittle off your chin then kissing it into your mouth and swallowing your whines. “y' fuckin’ nasty, jaeger,” onyankopon mutters lowly behind you and eren bites back a smile. “filthy ass, take that shit off,” you up off your knees, flopping back on your ass where you fiddle with the buttons on your jeans. 

your cheeks burned, both eren and ony's eyes grilled into you and everywhere you touched got streaks of mud in it after having your hands dig into the sopping ground. on your arms, your boobs, eren's shirt. slowly, you shucked your jeans down, slipping them past your ankles along with your boots. your panties were stuck up your ass when you sit in some wet patches of dirty hay, tossing the jeans aside realizing you wore significantly less than the other two men with rain beating all over you.

eren and ony’ share a look then eren's the first to lurch forward gripping your legs with his muddied hands, pushing you back to lay in the dirt and kissing about the clear parts of your belly. he nips at the swell of your breasts in your bra, sucking and kissing wherever he saw fit. “er– eren,” he's prying your legs apart, pushing them ‘till your knees were besides your ears. “eren, stop–,” then he's plucking your panties out your ass and sliding them up your thighs, he stretches the thin little things beyond repair to sling them off your ankles. “what the fuck,” you whisper, eren's fucking unreachable n’ you're both staring at your fat puffy cunt. he takes a second to look to the side at ony’ before returning his attention to your pussy, sprinkles of water sliding down, yet the blubber of slick collected between your lips was noticeable.

the pretty thing was so fat your hardened clit could barely peak through. eren dips his tongue deep, digging at your hole then dragging his tongue through your folds illiciting a low gasp. the cold metal bar in his tongue nudged at your clit. he curled his tongue around the bundle of nerves, giving it a few flicks before spitting and licking another strop up your cunt. “feels– fuckin’ good, eren, oh,” you whimper, his gentle motions paired with the ambient beating of rain against your skin had you on a high. he shakes his head side in your cunt, arousal making sticky strings beside his cheeks as his nose nudges the fat of your pussy. “holy shit,” you press your head into the soft ground beneath you, eyelids fluttering shut when eren suckles softly on your clit. you hum and moan, licking your lips and feeling your head spin, “‘ren . . . oh my god,” he slurps noisily suctioning his mouth over your pussy, sucking hard over and over and over again relishing in the throb of your clit against his tongue.

“he knows, baby,” ony’ murmurs and your mouth drops open with a loud moan, his voice just did something for you. you felt the muscles in your legs twitch, itching to close them with each swipe of eren's tongue and swirling pleasure in your tummy. your hands dig into the dirt behind you, legs quivering.

“tastes fuckin’ good don't it?” he's mumbling and eren's groans into your pussy sends shockwaves against your clit, he nods vigorously. “ohh– shit,” you sit up on your elbows digging in the mud, hair soaked and heavy and your legs only spread wider; your eyes trained on eren's tongue making sloppy circles around the fat mound in your pussy.

eager, you slip your hands into eren's wet curls, stuffing his face into your cunt, “eren, eren– yea-ah!” his groans rumble in his throat and here came the fucking waterworks. your climax comes hard along with several slick kisses to your clit, beads of sweat and rain slipping down between a furrowed brow and a guttural moan ripping from your throat.

eren's mouth releases its latch onto you, your legs flopping into puddles of dirt beneath you. “prepped her f'you,” eren licks his lips and looks to onyankopon who sits there with a fat bulge beneath his jeans although unbuttoned.

“mm yeah?,” you both shuffle over to the wet patch of hay ony’ sat in, slightly less soaked albeit equally as muddy.

onyankopon gestures to eren with two fingers as he lifts himself up, brushing water from his face and allowing eren to take a seat against the wall. your eyes flicker between them, sitting with your butt resting on the heels of your feet feeling exposed. it doesn't help that eren reaches behind you to unhook your bra, your cheeks feel hot. nevertheless, you slip them off your arms.

onyankopon shucks down his jeans just below his ass,  “ [  ], come right here,” walking on your knees you shuffle forward to ony’ who puts a hand above the swell of your ass, pressing his bare chest to yours. ony's gaze is something serious, he bends his neck and clasps his lips to yours. it's slow, methodical and hot. onyankopon breathes deep and groans into your mouth. your body goes limp a little: drooping in his grasp and relaxing against his body as his tongue gently guided yours against his own. “mhm, okay . . . okay,” he presses a few kisses to your lips with a squeeze around your throat as he weans you off his mouth.

“turn ‘round,”

you whine, “w'nna look at'chu,” 

ony's unmoved, he swallows, “look at ‘ren, baby,” and he guides you as you turn in the slippery mud to arch your ass up to him, his palm glides down the small of your back deepening that arch while your head rests on your folded arms before you. the position makes it hard for you to focus properly on eren, you peep at him through your eyelashes.

your cunt is sticky, swollen lips bound together by the white film of your arousal after the orgasm eren gave you, and you feel ony's hands kneading your ass. he spreads them, watching your pussy lightly spread open with it. you hear his belt buckle jingle slightly as his hands continue to massage your back right along with the downpour. ony’ grips his cock in his hands, tugging the thick thing lightly a couple times. he catches eren staring as he pumps it harshly before pressing the fat tip against you. 

“fuuuck,” ony’ slaps his cockhead at your entrance letting it get coated by your arousal before slipping the first inch in slowly and already you're speechless. “holy– shit,” your cunt stretched to accommodate the girth and ony’ grips the curve of your back for leverage, letting out a guttural groan while slowly inching into you. 

he sits in it for a moment, allowing you just a moment to familiarize yourself with the fat pipe he just lay in you; then, he's pulling out slowly and pushing in again and you whine. “what the fuck,” you feel ony’ lean his weight over you, and you gasp as he starts smacking his hips to your ass.

paired with the wetness of the rain, his hips leave a stinging slap against you and you're faltering with your tits mushed against the mud. eren left your pussy sloppy, your cunt whipping up loads of cream slick around ony's cock and your mouth is just ajar. jaw tightening with shallow, whiny moans cascading past your lips, ‘ah's and ‘oh's are all the men hear. “mm, ony’,” you try to murmur, body giving way fully to the mud beneath and ony's grip on your tightens,”watchu’ want, hm',” he grumbles.

oh how he knows nothing of the way your clit throbs everytime his heavy balls slap against your cunt.

“wan'— wan’ it deeper, please,” and you gasp hard when ony’s hand comes up to your ass, digging his thumb into the curled rim of your butt before bringing a foot to the ground for leverage; his ankle beside your ear, you eagerly grab onto it. “got fuckin’ good manners, don't she?” he grunts out, and the other man nods. 

onyankopon gives you two warning strokes, pressing his cock to the hilt and curling his thumb inside your ass and you feel overwhelmed. then, you gasp in a loud sob  as ony’ starts drilling his cock deeper into you, his hips smack you hard and his weight presses you everytime he drives his cock in. “fuck, fuck–,” you're squealing, hands draw digs into the mud as you can't help but writhe against the mud. “feel good?” you all but whine in response, “feel fuckin' good?” “ye- yes!” you mewl out. ony’s muscles contract and you can see it in his leg, intent on keeping you from sliding away from him under the soaked muddy slop.

the noises are . . . obscene. pornographic bursts of air shooting out amidst the stirring up of your melting cunt and your cheeks burn with embarrassment along with fresh tears streaming but you're breathless. “so fuckin’ loud,” ony’ mumurs,  his lips curling into a smile when he hears the noises you make.

“m’– fuck, m’ sorry,” you weep and your walls squeeze ony’ tight. you feel a glob of slick collect at the tippy top of your cunt, the fat bulge of your clit and stickily drip down onto the ground with each rock of your bodies. “takin’ m'shit fuckin’ good, sugar,” onyankopon drawls low and you sob.

you hear him whistle above you and with  a quickness eren's pants come into view. he sits, legs spread with his groin in line with your face against the ground. he scoots forward enough so he can lift your head and replace the mud beneath your nose with the musk of his balls. “‘ren, ‘ren, ren,” you're chanting, itching for your orgasm approaching with each quick and sloppy drag of cock in you. “m” right here, girlie,” ony's pummeling you from behind and your drooly mouth now has eren's pretty tanned cock slapping against it. “holy– fuck, hng- shit,” you mutter out before you're latching your lips onto eren's tip, inviting him into your mouth. he controls it, gripping your braids and rocking your head onto his dick.

“c'mon, c'mon, takin’ that shit s'fuckin’ good,” eren praises when he starts to snap his hips into your mouth, matching ony's strokes. he strokes your soaked hair gently, juxtaposing the nasty aggression each rock of his hips brought. you gagged, muffled, globs of spit streaking down your chin as you relaxed your throat for eren's dick. in the same way, you're making a mess on ony's cock, coating his length in hot creamy release that trickled down your own cunt. “she's fuckin’ creamin' on it, E',” and you moan when eren laughs cruelly above you, “cream on y’fuckin’ cock, ma’,” he grunts.

each drag of cock against the ridges of your cunt, the slosh of your mouth had you moaning in a frenzy. “was’ ya’ problem, huh?” eren groans out, and onyankopon knows exactly what your problem is.

“mama's bout to fuckin’ nut, huh?” he can feel the extra squeeze around his cock and rolls his neck to let some rain coat his face and distract him from his own ache. they listen to how you squeal around eren's cock, hands grabbing at his jeans and ony’ pumps his thumb into your ass consistency. 

“mmm, fuck,” onyankopon hums, angling himself so the curve of his cock digs at you just right, and he smiles: satisfied when you start to squirm and fuss beneath him. eren pulls you off and you sob, coughing a little to clear your larynx. you whimper as eren all but ruts against your face. “keep her right fuckin’ there,” ony’ groans and you grasp onto eren's jeans, cunt twitching with each movement yet eren forces your shoulders back to keep your body where ony’ wants you: daggering his cock into you with a forcefull quickness that eren's rutting mimics. 

“ohmygod, oh!” you blubber out, chanting ‘shit, shit, shit's

“gon’ leave you fuckin’ gapin’, quit playin’,” and you weep.

your hips twitch and you feel the knot in your stomach stiffening, “wan’ you're cum, want y'all's c–cum, fuckkk,” wail into eren's skin and take his cock back into your mouth just as your cunt spurts and your ears feel clogged from the rush of blood to your abdomen. “take it, take it, take that cum, baby,” eren groans. you felt light-headed, stars twinkling at you around the edges of your vision as your eyes rolled and soon you were forced to blink away the brain fog to swallow the thick loads eren gushes into your mouth. 

he whines, unabashedly and onyankopon gives you a couple more strokes before his cock is digging into you to bury his surge of cum into you with a hiss.

eren falls back, letting you catch your breath and stroking rain away from your face. ony’ pulls out quick before you start to get sore, giving your cunt a few wet slaps before eren's pulling your limp aching body onto him to give you some relief. “gotchu’, gotchu’.” he consoles.

“c'mon, E,” ony’ rushes, “huh?”

“gotta’ get out the fuckin’ rain,” he puffs out a laugh before he's lifting you off eren. they both try not to slip in the mud, hurrying off into the ranch for long hot showers.

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (6)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I hope you all have found ways to cope after the breakup, but here all your questions will be answered on what went down pre-August! Special shoutout to @just-fics-station @thepurplecrown @clarkysblog @hotdismylife and @sprinklesprinkle888 for sharing your ideas and indulging me with the lovely, crazy discourse!

To everyone, I am so chuffed at how this has become OUR story - our lil self-indulgent Ewan Nation production. You all are aces <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

In the aftermath of the breakup, the reader and Ewan throw themselves into their work, trying (and failing) to avoid any trace of the other. Will they remain this way - former lovers doomed to drift in each other's orbit?

Some time before August

New York City

The lush office was laden with expensive wooden antiques, one side with built-in shelves displaying film awards and plaques of varying degrees of prestige. A full glass minibar occupied the other side.

The casting director introduced himself as Bruce, insisting that Ewan call him by his first name and not any of that "sir or similar stick-up-the-ass names". Ewan can see him as a mentor or maybe even a friend, Bruce insisted.

After all, they were going to help each other out a lot.

The discussion was straightforward enough, never mind the saccharine tone Bruce seemed to be so good at. Aimed at making Ewan feel welcome, coddling him, remarking with awe at his projects thus far. But there was a fakeness to it. Ewan steeled himself, trying to adapt to the style of conversation. After all, if he is in this for the long haul, then he would have to get used to these situations.

Bruce appraised him, leaning back on his leather swivel chair. "How are you with the fantasy genre? All that YA, lovesick stuff the kids eat up so eagerly nowadays? Personally, I haven't got the taste for it, but it always makes bank, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, well, I'm a fan of all movies. I definitely see why the fantasy genre has made such an impact on audiences, especially with the romance element, you know, I get the appeal."

"Well, son, we've got a solid franchise in our hands here. Some adaptation of an elf-human love story, mind you, it sound ridiculous, but you know how it is. And the team seems to be in agreement - you fit the bill for the male lead. The male elf lead - " he almost guffawed at the thought, then collected himself " - hope you don't mind my saying that you've got elvish features yourself. Long nose, long jaw, lanky. The teens are going to eat you up."

"Ah," Ewan smiled curtly, nodding. There was a backhanded compliment if he ever heard one. "Well, sir, I've read the script - at least, the bit that was sent to me - and it looks quite promising. I'd be honoured to - "

"Of course, of course!" Bruce exclaimed in pleasure, cutting Ewan off mid-sentence. "And there's the case of your leading lady, and this all boils down to chemistry as you know. Our top contender is that Jenna Ortega girl from the Netflix show, you know her?"

Ewan nodded, well aware. He's seen her work, and thinks that she is a top actress of her generation, but leave it to Bruce to reduce her to being that girl from the Netflix show.

"Yes, she's a very talented actress," Ewan replied.

Bruce hums in agreement, head bobbing as a smirk materialises on his face. "Think she's a looker?" he said openly, without shame.

Ewan laughed nervously, his words caught in his throat.

Bruce, characteriscally oblivious to the discomfort of others, carried on. "I only ask because we're going to need you two to be pretty chummy with each other when you jump on this project. It's kind of a condition of the whole thing, but really nothing to concern yourself with." He waved a hand in the air, his proposition barely carrying any weight in his mind. But Ewan was catching on, and he started to develop a dislike about the whole deal.

"What do you mean?" Ewan asked.

"It's pretty common in this business, son. There's a reason why young, new actors like yourself opt to remain unattached so to speak, so they're always open to a PR arrangement or, you know, just so their - your - hoards of fans would think they got a chance with you," Bruce explains lazily. "In this case, since you and Ortega are, as I said, unattached, getting you two together would fuckin' do wonders for our movie."

Our movie, he said, convinced that Ewan was all in, because why would any young actor refuse such a golden opportunity? Franchises like this can set up an entire mainstream Hollywood career.

Ewan thought that he wasn't unattached. Granted, his date with you was yet to happen, but he already felt bound to you. He wished you were the one tapped to be his love interest. Very little acting would be needed there. Maybe he might even be inclined to go along with the idea of selling the relationship, using it for publicity for the film, but even that made him uneasy.

The industry offered a lot of privileges, but more often than not, they come at a cost.

"Sir, I - "

"Bruce."

"Right, sorry. Bruce, I have to tell you that I'm not exactly unattached."

"Got a partner?"

Ewan actually found himself smiling at the thought of you being called his partner. His first easy smile since entering this office. "Yes, she's an actress herself," he agreed.

"I heard of her?" Bruce asked with obvious disinterest. You were but a wedge in his flawless plan.

"She's kind of a new talent like me, but she's brilliant. She plays Alyna Rivers in our show."

"Ah her," Bruce loosened up a little. "I get it, she's a piece."

Ewan cleared his throat loudly, his jaw clenching on instinct. "So, like I said, I'm with her. I'm sorry but this whole PR arrangement with Jenna wouldn't work."

"Look, kid, I want my movie to do well, alright? I got a lot invested here. This PR thing has proven to be highly bankable time and time again. If you don't trust me, I can ask the team to show you the data on all that. It's a lot of boring numbers, but shit, the numbers are never wrong."

"I don't need to see - "

"If you wanna be with your girl, you can, but you just gotta learn to hide it. Sweep it under the rug, you know. Don't canoodle in public, you crazy kids," Bruce offered, like that made things any better.

"You want me to hide my relationship?"

"Hey, now, come on. Word gets around. Isn't your girl also doing this exact same thing with Jacob Elordi?"

"Not anymore, I don't think," Ewan clarifies, "and that was... that was hardly anything. They weren't obligated to do it. It just worked by chance because they were both single for a time."

"Po-ta-to, po-tah-to." Bruce clicked his tongue before making his next point. "So you see how it works, your thing with Ortega won't be any different."

"Do I have a choice?" There it is, the defining factor.

Bruce smiled slowly. The calculating and menacing air about him intensified, and it was obvious he was not there to be Ewan's friend.

"It would be stupid to refuse something like this, kid."

Ewan's blue eyes flashed in return. None of this was ideal, but his nan raised him well, and he knew better than to falter on his values in times of trial.

"Sir, what's stupid is if you ask me to hide my real relationship for the sake of mere publicity for a film."

"Stupid you say?" Bruce sneered, having already discarded Ewan in his mind, his fragile ego bruised. "What a shame."

There wasn't much to say after that. Bruce was clearly not disinclined to reveal the ice that settled in his veins, and it dawned on Ewan that it had always been the case. There was no true hospitality here.

For bigwig casting director-slash-execs like Bruce, this was a transaction. And Ewan was not about to put what he has, or what he could have, with you on the line.

There has to be another way to advance his career. If not bigger productions, then at least those with less domineering producers.

"That is a shame," Ewan said, getting up from his seat. "I won't waste any more of your time, sir. Thank you for considering me."

Bruce's eyes darkened even further. "You're actually refusing me? For some girl?"

Another genuine smile formed on Ewan's face at the thought of you. Some girl.

But you're not just some girl. He nodded without a trace of doubt in his mind, before reaching out to shake Bruce's hand. "If you don't mind, sir... I have to go and see my darling."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Near the end of August

Los Angeles

The modern space sported a minimalist yet rustic feel, the interiors a blend of sterile white and sleek wooden surfaces. Very LA, as they say. The windowed walls offered plenty of light, as well as precious views of the valley below.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Donna," you greeted Ewan's publicist as she ushered you in her LA office.

"No problem at all, sweetheart," she said. "Please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee or tea? Ewan always has his coffee with way, way too much sugar. Mind you, if that kid wasn't active and boxing all the time, I'd be worried for his health."

You smiled fondly at her genuine concern. "Don't even mention the cigarettes."

"Oh, yeah," she scoffed, settling down on the chair across from you. She could have sat down at her desk, making the meeting more official, but Donna's always had a friendly and open way about her. "So, my sweet, how's your new movie coming up?"

You respond eagerly. The dialogue flowed freely, talking about your film and the lukewarm reception of season 2 of House of The Dragon. And finally, Ewan.

"I really thought he would get the Greta Gerwig film," you said. "Everyone said he was perfect for it. I think Greta herself had nothing but praises for him when they met on Zoom."

She sighed thoughtfully, "I thought so too. And, theoretically, he did have that one almost booked up. But there was an issue with one of the producers, which - I don't even want to get into that."

You shook your head, catching on whom she hinted at. "Donna, I heard... well, it didn't go too well in New York, didn't it? Ewan told me about it but... if you can tell me more, I just want to understand why - "

"Sweetheart," she offered a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes, "you should talk about this with Ewan."

"I tried. But he wouldn't budge. Mallory told me... that it might have been because of me that he didn't get the role? And also why he's struggling to get roles now? Donna, I... I can't have that."

It took some time for her to formulate a response. She didn't want to step in something that's none of her business. Your relationship with Ewan is yours. But when his career is on the line, she supposed that she needed to have some say in that.

"He met with this top producer in New York. This real old money Hollywood guy. For decades, he's built careers for the greats, you know - Pitt, DiCaprio, Theron, and whatnot. There was a franchise project practically offered to him on a plate, but Ewan refused, because a non-negotiable was that he would have to hide you in favour of a PR arrangement with his leading lady."

You swallowed, the weight of the truth making itself clear. "Couldn't he have just done the movie without that?"

"You would think," she grimaced, "but some producers... when they want something, they have to get it. And well, Bruce wasn't lying, that would have sold the movie well."

"I thought we were past this," you expressed sadly. "I understand how PR relationships work. Just recently, I found myself kind of in the middle of one. But there was no pressure, it wasn't forced on us, and it was meant to be all in good fun."

"I know, sweetheart," she insisted, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "Bruce is an outlier now. Most of the time you do get lucky, with an all-around supportive production team, just like with your project with Elordi."

You hummed in agreement on that positive note, but your mind kept drifting back to Ewan.

Donna continued, wrapping up her story, "but Bruce is still here, and he still has a lot of power. But you know, it'll be fine. Ewan's got such a huge fanbase and so much talent that it'll only be a matter of time before something else knocks on his door."

You wanted to share her sense of optimism, but something ate at you. What else will Ewan have to sacrifice just to be with you? This was his dream, his one dream, and you were standing in the way. How much longer before he is offered another project but he refuses to take it for your sake? Your thoughts blurred together, bordering on irrational, but you couldn't help it.

All you could picture was the unabashed sincerity on his face, that sense of wonder, when he told you that acting had always been his dream.

Being tied down to you, this early in his career, would surely only hurt him. And you don't think you're worth it.

"Ewan loves you, sweetheart. Anyone with eyes can see that," Donna said after a while, heeding the storm brewing in your expression.

He loves you. It was true.

Less than a month in, and you've already found yourself with a love that you've never felt before. And perhaps never will again.

And that was the problem.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Late September

The podcast moderators are overly welcoming, if not a little loud for Ewan's taste.

The BBC podcast is called Loose Ends, and it's one of the first things Ewan agreed to take on upon returning to England.

He had wanted to head straight home to Derby, to bury himself in his heartache and bitterness, but the team for the show tapped him for a couple more promotional stints, riding on the high of the season finale. And who better than Ewan to offer to the media, the undeniable fan favourite.

Clad in an old gray shirt and blue jeans, people would think he just rolled right out of bed. He didn't really have the motivation to put in more effort. The only striking thing about him is his newly bleached head of hair, supervised by his stylist for a photoshoot a few days ago.

It was ironic, the timing of such a change. Ewan knew that if word got out that you dumped him, he would never hear the end of the joke of that being the reason for his hairstyle change, typical of all heartbroken sods.

Everyone bursts into laughter when he tells them about his mum's reaction to his nude scene. It feels like going through the motions, and he must have been so out of it, so forlorn, that his team prepared an outline for him prior to the interview. The questions and answers all pre-agreed.

Make them laugh. React as required. Remember to speak when spoken to. The mantra goes on in his head.

And don't think about her.

An impossible task, worsened when a moderator goes off script and asks, "Now it wasn't me who saw this, as I'm not on social media myself, but one of our interns did mention that you ventured into Instagram recently? Is that true?"

Oh fuck.

"Mmm, yeah, I guess," Ewan laughs nervously, his hand massaging the back of his neck in a self-soothing motion.

"And your first post went viral? What can you tell us about that? Our listeners would love to know."

"Uhhhm - " He remembers that the broadcast is live, and he can't exactly ask them to edit this part out, so he quickly settles for something indirect. Inconclusive. Safe. " - did it go viral? I'm not too sure how that thing works. I haven't used any kind of social media before."

"Apparently it did! And it had to do with the subject featured in that photo, Ewan. Your costar - "

"Mmm," Ewan stops him there, "didn't you say that you don't use Instagram?"

"No, I think I'm too old!" The moderator laughs.

"It's insane, that whole thing," Ewan shakes his head. "I don't know how to handle it. I'm logged off most of the time."

"Oh, you log off?"

"Yeah, yeah, helps me keep my focus, you know. Keep calm and all that."

"It can get frivolous, can't it?"

Ewan hums in agreement, and thankfully, the moderator moves on to his last question. One that does not breach the subject of you.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Another day means yet another media stint for Ewan, this time for Now TV.

Still in London, his stylist Davey and the rest of the team prepare him for a day of brief interview clips, to be posted on the social media pages of the company.

Davey had half-joked about Ewan needing even more concealer than usual, the shadows under his eyes having significantly deepened after the breakup.

Some of his team have gotten wind of what happened. They would curiously ask about you, how often Ewan keeps in touch with you while you're on set...

You must be on FaceTime everyday!

Is it hard to be doing long-distance so soon?

Do you miss her? Is that why you're not getting any rest?

...but Ewan would only laugh uncomfortably, dismiss it by bringing up another topic or shifting the attention to someone else, or excuse himself to go for a smoke.

He'd been drowning himself in cigarettes and caffeine during the day, pint after pint in the nighttime. Aimless.

He is coping. He knows how it must look, but he deserves this. He deserves to drift for a while. It's the only thing he can do to keep himself from jumping on the next flight to Atlanta and begging for your hand back.

You said you love him. You did. He hangs on to it like a beacon in a storm. No matter how pointless it may seem, with you choosing someone else over him.

Work is becoming something of an anchor, something that keeps him from spiralling. He's an actor, and he has always wanted to be an actor. People now have expectations of him, and he will answer the call.

The interview session begins with generic questioning, stuff he's answered before on several occasions.

How special is the bond between dragon and rider?

What is a funny moment from set that you can share?

How similar are Aemond and Daemon?

All safe. He's proud of himself for not breaking mental clarity thus far. You're in the back of his mind, dormant as a memory, and not something looming darkly over him. For a while, at least.

But then he is asked, If you could invite any 5 people to a Ewan Mitchell dinner party, who would you pick?

"Matthew McConaughey - "

You.

" - Bruce Lee. I think they could strike up an interesting conversation - "

Your name echoes in his mind, and he can't control it.

" - Andrea Riseborough. She's just a chameleon, like in any role she undertakes -

You have great taste. Even if you would make him eat spicy food again, he'll take it. He'll endure anything for you.

He's stumped for a second, lump in his throat, and his effort in avoiding you leads him to mention someone who will always be a comfort to him.

" - Maybe my nan, because I miss her -

Your name. He has to say your name. Who else? Think of someone else.. but who else? Who would be better?

" - and then, another person. Let's make it from the show... it would be Alyna Rivers."

"Oh really?" The interviewer asks. She's not really meant to respond in this instance, but she knows that the fans would go crazy about any mention of you or your character, so why not jump on this opportunity? "Can you tell us why you chose her?"

"Uhhm, well, she's just an amazing character, you know, fiercely loyal, beautiful, tenacious," Ewan replies easily, "so yeah, she would make for good company."

It is obvious that he is describing you just as much as he does Alyna Rivers, and no doubt, the fans will catch on to this detail.

Later, he's asked about his favourite part about season two, and he duly answers, "Seeing more of Aemond and Vhagar's bond and how that perhaps have gotten stronger. Aemond has definitely reined her in, after the accident at Storm's End."

Then, "There are some new additions to the show. Do you have a particular favourite?"

Another obvious piece of bait. And he takes it, he doesn't care anymore. What's the use of denying the truth?

"A favourite new character? Oh, well, uhmm... I really do like Alyna, and I think I've said before that Aemond and her are quite similar in a sense that they both know what they want and how to achieve it. It's just a shame they're on opposing sides, because if those two get together... " he trails off, leaving it up to the audiences to fill in the rest of the thought.

And they eagerly do. The clips where Ewan mentions Alyna get the most traction, flooded with comments that more or less talk of the same thing -

We know why you chose Alyna, Ewan. We know your ways.

He could have said Alys. Or Gwayne. Or even the ghost of Daeron ffs. But nooooo.... it's Alyna Alyna Alyna 😮‍💨

I wonder if she's there behind the scenes

yeah shes definitely lurking in the background!

Aemond and Alyna better have at least a scene together in season 3!!!!!

Someone kidnap Ryan Condal and make him write this

Ewan doesn't see any of it. Not that he's missing out, because he soon feels the need to call his younger cousin to ask her how to turn off his notifications on Instagram.

Day in and day out, his one single post gets dozens of new comments and likes, a brutal reminder of what he's lost. He could just delete it, and get rid of his profile entirely, but he hates to imagine the discourse that would follow.

All the invasive allegations and rumours. So he leaves it be. It makes no difference to him now. Let people believe what they want.

To his chagrin, he finds himself scrolling on his home page once in a while. The addictive element to it was true, and for him, it's exacerbated because the things he sees are often related to you.

Photos of you from fanpages and news accounts. Ones where your friends have tagged you. It's a toxic habit, looking through it all, but he can't help himself.

Then one day, as he's slouched on the seat in his London apartment, phone propped on his knees, he sees a cutout photo of his face on the corner of the screen. He clicks on it, and it's an image of him interposed among different posts. Posts which he apparently liked.

"Oh for fuck's sake," he cusses at himself, reading the caption.

Boyfriend lurking? - Ewan Mitchell may play a formidable TV villain, but in real life, he's just like us. Click on the link in bio to see his series of liked posts!

Dread takes root in him, followed by self-loathing. Why couldn't he just keep off this bloody thing? He takes to the comments to see what he has allegedly liked on accident and it's predictably photos of you - you at a premiere, stills of you as Alyna, and even, heavens fucking forbid, a behind the scenes shot of you getting pretty close with Jacob Elordi on the set of your film.

He vividly remembers seeing that last one, because he went on a bender after coming across it.

Cursing himself and his wayward, sticky fingers, he exits the app and deletes it from his phone.

Whatever goes on there, whatever people might leave on his profile, he washes his hands of it.

He calls up several of his mates, asking them if they want to come over for a few drinks.

"Again, Ewan?" one of them exclaims. "C'mon, you gotta take a breather, mate."

"I don't need a breather." I need her.

"Ewan - "

His composure breaks, all his damned frustrations rising to the surface, and he confesses, "I wonder if she thinks about me."

"Hang in there, mate. We're coming over."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

October

The director finally yells a satisfied, "Cut!"

It's only taken a good twenty-something takes for you and Jacob to nail a challenging scene. You had been on a roll since the beginning of the shoot, the last few weeks seemingly a breeze on paper, though it's a constant struggle to keep it together.

You've had to quell your internal dialogue so it does not stray to him. His smile. The feel of his skin against yours. His way of subtly picking up on details, and doing sweet things that surprise you as a result.

But you received word just before the scene that a few of your friends have come to visit, waiting back at your trailer - Phia, Fabien and his girlfriend, Bella.

And so, as if on instinct, Ewan is all you can focus on, every repressed memory of him rushing in like a tidal wave.

Do they know? What could you possibly say to justify what you did? You can only hope he took on that project, to give you a bitter sense of vindication.

It's the only thing that keeps it all the bay, the only thing that keeps you from jumping on the next flight to England and grovelling at his door.

Phia has her arms wrapped around you the moment you open the door to your trailer, loudly squealing, "I missed you!"

You sink into the hug, comforted by her presence.

As well as the fact that she represents some connection to Ewan.

Phia, Helaena. Helaena, Aemond. Aemond, Ewan.

It's a sick game to play, but it's what you have.

"Hey, yous," you hug Fabien and Bella in turn. Not long after, you're all lounging on director's chairs right outside your trailer, enjoying a bit of sun.

"How's our big Hollywood star?" Phia quips, her lips curling in her trademark pleasant upturn.

"Hardly a star," you shake your head fondly. "More of an indie darling."

"Of course, of course," she relents, before going on a monologue about how she's been keeping tabs on your project, how she just adores the costume designer whom she spoke to at length while you were working, and how the rest of the cast is rooting for you.

The rest of the cast.

"Ah, are they?" you ask, making a conscious effort to not simply blurt out his name. What does he think? Has he mentioned you at all?

Do they know?

Do they secretly hate you for what you did?

"Mhmm, right Fabs?" she says.

"Oh, definitely." Fabien agrees right away.

"How's your film? Are you done shooting in Philly?" you ask him.

"Just about done, but I think we're doing some final reshoots next week. I'm just glad my girl's here to visit," he slings an arm around Bella, who smiles and leans closer to him.

You smile at the sight, but it visibly falters. Ewan could be visiting you on set right now, just like Bella with Fabien, if you hadn't fucked it all up.

They notice.

"Love," Phia sighs, her tone softening. "I just want you know - we want you know - we're here for you, okay? No matter what you went through with... " A pause. Like saying his name would open up the floodgates.

Your gaze falls to your lap in shame. You pick on invisible lint on your trousers. Bite your lip. Breathe deeply.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"So you guys know, huh?"

"Well, more or less," Phia says. "I just spoke with... Ewan... recently. He's back in Derby for the time being, and he's - "

"He's a bit rough," Fabien says firmly. He's not taking sides here, but he's heard from Ewan, and he feels the need to have his mate's back. "Look, I don't want to pry, but what happened? It seemed like you guys were doing so well together!"

"You don't have to tell us," Phia adds, shooting Fabien a look. "But if you want to, we're here to listen. We love you both and we just want to help, love."

You feel your eyes welling up. Leave it to Phia to be oh so sweet. You can't lie to them, you don't want to. Even if you did, they would see right through it.

Your friends know you too well.

"I... I miss him."

Phia squeezes your hand, and the whole story is about to spill out of you when you hear your name being called.

It's your assistant Clara, letting you know you're needed back on set.

You swallow back tears, standing on your feet, trying to maintain enough composure so you can grant yourself access back to your character.

"Go do your thing, superstar," Phia smiles comfortingly. "We'll be here when you're ready."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

November

"I'd like to propose a toast," Tom declares out loud in the empty pub, "to Ewan, Hollywood's new elf... Lord? Prince? Ah sod it, cheers!"

Round the table, Ewan, Fabien, Luke and Elliott all raise their pints with a collective, "Hear, hear!"

The pub has been cleared out for the lads, thanks to a favour called in by the twins, with the owner being their gym buddy and good friend.

"Thank you," Ewan replies, smirking. "I am your new elf prince, address me as such."

"Your ears have never been pointier, mate," Luke quips.

After a month of moping back home in Derby, or recovering as Ewan prefers to put it, he got a call from his manager telling him that the offer from Bruce still stands.

Apparently, the production team for the movie still had him tapped as the prime choice for the lead. After observing his audience metrics and overall viability, they decided that the movie would fare the best with him in it.

They had planted some half-baked announcements in the media, stating that it was Ewan against Joseph Quinn and Manny Jacinto for the role, and the fan reaction veered in Ewan's favour by a landslide.

Even though Bruce had an unsavoury word or two to say about him, he was willing to work past it, so long as Ewan would be more amenable to his demands.

After careful deliberation, Ewan chose to throw caution to the wind, and accept the role. So what if he has to pretend to have a real-life romance with Jenna? This is what you wanted.

"I'm glad you finally came out to see us, mate," Fabien says. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, fuck's sake. Remind us never to break your heart! That was tough to witness, you hunkerin' down out there all mopey and whatnot," Elliott laughs.

"Mmm." Ewan takes a swig of his beer to hide the wince he couldn't hold back. His friends, and most of the cast know by now, not in too much detail, of what went down between the two of you.

A typical short-lived romance of two actors. A summer fling. Most of them would look back and only see it as that.

Even though it was so much more. Even though Ewan still recalls how warm and soft and beautiful you felt as you whimpered underneath him, the loss of you as painful as getting hit by a freight train.

The liquor helps. Burying himself in work helps. Denial... well, that certainly helps the most.

When he goes out to the back garden for a smoke break with Fabien, he tricks himself into believing it's mere curiosity that compels him to say, "Phia mentioned that you guys went to Atlanta."

Fabien is rendered off guard, because he knows what's coming. "Yeah, we did. Bella came with us too. She was visiting me on set," he says, measuredly.

"Mmm." A long drag, a flick of ash towards the ground, an unaffected shrug - and eventually, with as impassive of a tone as he can muster, Ewan asks, "So how is she?"

Fabien smiles knowingly. "She's doing great. Her film's looking pretty good." He's privy to the truth, after he and Phia managed to gently coax it out of you over several martinis at a hotel bar in Atlanta. But he doesn't think it up to him to reveal that to Ewan, out of respect for your privacy.

While he might not share your sentiment, he thinks it's not in his place to tell Ewan that you basically lied for his sake.

But that doesn't mean he won't drop a helpful nugget or two.

"You know, I don't exactly know what's going on... but her and Jacob came across as nothing more than friends."

Ewan's hand freezes mid-air, the cigarette inches from his lips. He loathes the sense of hope that immediately bloomed in his chest. He's so bloody easy. One miniscule hint, and his delusions break through the wall of indifference he worked so hard to build.

"She said she has feelings for him," Ewan stresses, trying to convince himself. What was the fucking point of all this... this pain... if you never did?

"Hey, mate, I dunno," Fabien puts his hands up, "just telling you what I saw."

"It doesn't matter." It does. "She ended it." He wants you back, he will always want you back. "It's better this way."

"Is it?"

Ewan doesn't answer. He doesn't know how to, without grossly embellishing the truth.

Fabien watches his friend, sensing his hesitation as he averts his gaze. One thing becomes clear to him - you and Ewan are far from being over.

So he says, "She misses you, you know."

Ewan regards him with a stony look, one that slowly softens to reveal the broken boy inside. For but a moment, before he clears his throat and throws the butt of his cigarette on the ground.

"Let's head back inside."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

December

You're back in London, as production for your film is paused for the upcoming holiday season.

Work is supposed to be the last thing on your mind, but it just so happens that your manager has you booked for a chemistry read for a yet undisclosed film.

Phia came over to your apartment, insisting that she help you get ready. When you asked how she found out about your audition, she was quick to say that she was up for the role as well but didn't think it was right for her.

"Why not?" you ask, as she hovers over you, patting blush on the apples of your cheeks.

"Oh, you just get a feel for these things."

"Phi, it's just a chemistry read," you say, when she reaches for the mascara. "I don't need to get all dolled up for this."

She gasps, "Oh, but this is showbiz, darling. We always have to put a face on."

"Fine," you relent. "Do your worst."

The makeup she ends up doing on you is minimal, but it enhances your features just the right amount. You rush through your final preparations, folding up the script sample you were given and stuffing it in your purse.

Phia stands out on your balcony, in the middle of a call. The window screen is slightly open, so you hear snippets of the conversation as you walk by.

"Is he ready?" she asks. Who's he? You assume it's the guy you are doing the read with.

You don't know about him, but you are ready, so you stick your head out to say, "I gotta go, Phi."

"Oh!" She startles a little, angling her phone away. "Already?"

"Yeah, the read's at 4, I believe. Just lock the door when you leave, 'kay?"

She hurriedly whispers something to her phone, presumably ending her call. "I'll actually head out with you," she grins. "My work here is done anyway."

"Any plans for the night?"

She shrugs, "Might meet with Tom and Martha."

"Oh, why don't I meet you guys after my thing?"

"Uhhhm," she chews on her lip, thinking. Under her breath, you barely hear her mumble, "... hoping you'd be busy."

"What?" A restrained chuckle escapes you, confused as to why she's being so coy.

"Nothing," she tilts her head. "We can meet if you'd like."

The weird exchange is out of your mind when you arrive at the casting agency. You run the scene through in your head as you walk in the building, up the elevator, down the long hallway.

It's a heartfelt scene, if not a little tense, a dialogue between reunited ex-lovers.

Your manager Polina and publicist Mallory greet you at the doors, swiftly briefing you before directing you in.

"They're waiting, just walk right in, doll," Polina says.

"Okay, wish me luck!" You have your hand on the door handle when Mallory strangely remarks, "Don't hate us, sweetheart!"

"Why would I - "

"Go, go," Polina guides you in, then shuts the door behind you.

The office sports an spacious and open layout, with plenty of natural light streaming through large windows. The primary workstation is partially hidden behind a subtle partition. You see silhouettes of a few people behind it, so you walk down that way.

The figures reveal themselves soon enough - the casting agents you recognise as Patrick and Amie, sitting in front of the actor you're meant to read with.

A range of emotion washes over you, but you don't even have time to reckon with them. The casting agents divert your attention from Ewan, as they approach you with wide smiles in greeting.

"So nice to finally meet you!" Amie croons. "Take a seat. You two already know each other, of course. Between us, there won't really be a question of chemistry here."

"Right?" Patrick adds, looking between you and Ewan. "The fans sure think so, and we have to say we already agree."

"So just give us a minute to set up," Amie says. "Then we'll start."

You smile stiffly, settling down on the opposite end of the couch. You keep your gaze straight, trying to keep your attention on Patrick as he sets up the camera. Your heartbeat races the entire time, and you feel your hands getting clammy.

"They're all in on it," you hear Ewan say, prompting you to finally look at him directly. You take him in hungrily, admiring his outline, ever so handsome with his Targaryen-blonde hair and black leather jacket.

A weak "Mmm?" is all you can muster.

"Our teams, Tom, Phia... they set us up. Tom came over and I overheard him on the phone with Phia."

"Oh," you mumble. He doesn't even spare you a glance, leaning on the armrest on his side of the couch. He looks as if he'd rather be anywhere but here, next to you, and it hurts.

It's what you deserve.

"Is this not a real chemistry read?" you ask meekly.

"I suppose it is," he laughs humourlessly, "but it's not a coincidence that you and I just happen to be the only ones scheduled for today." He turns to you, giving you a critical sideways glance. "Didn't see that coming, did you?"

"I... I can leave if you want - "

"Mmm," his brows furrow, "you do seem to be good at that."

You look away. He is not being fair, but you weren't neither, that wretched night back in September.

And he is making you pay for it now.

But then you hear him speak in a softer tone, "Stay."

Stay. When you look at him once more, his attention is entirely on you, arm outstretched on the couch like he just tried to reach for you but decided against it.

Stay, he asked. So you do.

It's what you should have done, months ago.

"Okay, guys. Whenever you're ready," Amie says. She and Patrick take their seats in front of you, with the camera on a stand between them.

The script crinkles on your lap as you hold it with shaky fingers. "It's been a while," you read out your opening line.

The dialogue plays out twisted and ironic, now that you know who your scene partner is.

"Hardly," Ewan responds in character. "I feel like no time as passed."

"Feels like a lifetime."

He pauses, then sighs, "Do you even miss me?"

"How... how can you even ask me that?"

"How can I - "

"Why didn't you... why didn't you fight for me?" your voice breaks, the lines hitting a bit too close to home.

"You're a fucking hypocrite," he spits with venom. "You weren't exactly giving me anything to fight for."

"I did it for us. I did it all for us." If you didn't feel like crying at the weight of the scene, you would have rolled your eyes at the similarities.

"Like I said - nothing to fight for."

"Nothing? So you're telling me I was nothing to you."

"No," he levels you with an icy look, "you were everything to me. Everything. But you left me behind, and for what? So you can run off with the rebel sect?"

"The mission needed me. You wouldn't understand." You feel a sense of relief when the sci-fi elements roll in, otherwise you might have given in to your emotions and sobbed right there on the damn couch.

"I needed you," Ewan says, eyes not leaving yours. "I needed you and you abandoned me, just like that."

"And are you not better for it? When I left, did they not make you General?"

"See, that is the difference between you and I," he says coldly. "I wouldn't have traded what we had for anything - no position, no amount of wealth, no glory... I would have chosen us every time."

"Aaand cut!" Patrick jokes, effectively breaking the tension.

The two of you have unconsciously drifted closer, now only a foot part. Ewan does not drop your gaze, watching you closely. You see his eyes flit down to your parted lips, and he leans in almost imperceptibly.

"Alright, how about we go one more time?" Amie says, diverting your attention. "Give us a different take, and then that's it!"

Ewan settles back on his end of the couch. When he reads his lines again, his tone is harsher and he no longer meets your eyes.

Patrick and Amie commend you both afterward, singing praises about your acting abilities. Ewan is polite as always, blushing and grateful, but he practically dashes out of the door when the meeting finishes.

You're left standing with Amie, as Patrick has taken to his laptop to file the footage.

"The way he looks at you," she sighs dreamily, referring to Ewan. "You'd think the sun shone out your arse, doll."

"He... he was just in character," you disagree. "He's a good actor, as you know."

"Yeah, I mean, he nailed the part's rancour perfectly. But his eyes - oof - you've got a good one there."

Oh. Of course they would still assume you and him are together.

How desperately you want it to be true.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

An hour later, you've just sent Phia a text saying - You owe me. Where do I meet you guys?

But you hear a knock on your apartment door. If you didn't buzz anyone in, it can only be a neighbour or someone the doorman recognised.

Someone familiar to you.

And it's him.

"Ewan?"

"I need to speak with you."

You step aside so he doesn't linger at your doorway. He walks past you, a welcome if not unexpected presence in the room.

You can't decipher his expression, his gaze angled downward as he leans against your kitchen counter.

When the silence becomes almost deafening, you laugh awkwardly, about to make some silly remark on whether he is still in character. But he doesn't let you diffuse the tension.

"I want you," he blurts out without warning. "God help me, I still want you. I think I might have a fucking problem because how can I... after what you did - " A momentary glance of betrayal, but you see the spite clear in his eyes. " - but I do. I can't get you out of my system."

"I'm sorry - "

"I don't need that," he says sharply. "I don't need your sorry. I need you. I need to have you, and maybe this way, I'll satisfy whatever pointless desire I still have in me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying - I'm asking - will you let me have you?"

"Ewan, I don't under - "

"I'm saying that we should sleep together," he says bluntly, and it feels like the rug has been pulled from under your feet, "but only just. You won't be mine, and I won't be yours."

"You're kidding."

He shakes his head, before adding, "Don't worry. It'll be our little secret. To the rest of the world, I'll have a different girlfriend anyway."

His words register, along with the bitter ache at his words, that you won't be his, he won't be yours. This is purely for pleasure. There used to be love here, and now he just craves the comfort your body allows.

You'll be using each other.

You should refuse. This is not healthy; this is not how you move on. Can you even go back to being good friends after this? But also - what have you got to lose?

What, except for him, and for good this time?

What, except everything?

"So what do you say - " He closes in on you, and with every bit of malice intended, the name no longer possessing the sweetness it once held, he sneers, "- darling?"

💌 next chapter

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @onlyrealjoy (continued ... )

Some notes in the margins...

Well well well... the transition from friends to lovers to strangers to angsty FWBs sure is a slippery slope!

The time jumps are so we get through the moping quicker! It's mostly back to the regular shenanigans in the next part. Only, you know, angst-ridden. But you hurt Ewan, reader. *wags finger* Don't say you didn't expect this switch! Tsktsk

So what now - will you accept this arrangement? Will things ever be truly okay? Part 7 is going to be hot and hilarious and stupid and messy, just as the doctor ordered.

Let's hash it out in the comments, shall we? 🗡💕

[beanthesprout]

Sweet Angel

Sub!Castiel x soft dom!afab reader

Castiel is feeling things he's never felt before. Things he thought he shouldn't feel as an angel. And you're more than happy to help him explore

Warnings: marking, oral sex (m recieving), pentrative sex, p in v, unprotected sex

All the boys were supposed to be out today. That's what they'd told you. Sam and Dean had taken Jack out on a hunt, and Cas was off with Bobby doing research.

You loved having the bunker to yourself. It gave you the opportunity to be more...free with your clothing choices. You loved and trusted your boys but you weren't keen on the idea of them seeing you walk around the way you were right now.

Panties and a t-shirt. No bra. And by God was it comfortable. No one was supposed to be back until the next morning, so for now you were relishing having the place to yourself.

You were wandering out of the kitchen with a beer, wanting to go back to the library to continue reading that book on witches you'd found. You were not expecting to see Castiel standing in the middle of the library, jaw dropped and face bright red as he saw you walk in.

"Oh fuck."

Cas just stared, mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but he just couldn't get the words out. Your embarrassment quickly turned to amusement.

Your eyes drifted down to see that he seemed to have a bit of a problem in his pants.

"You doin alright angel?"

He raised his hands to rub his face and turn away.

"I'm sorry. I-I wasn't expecting you to have so little clothes on."

"You're more flustered than I am." You snickered.

He stayed turned away from you and you could see he was trying to adjust his pants. You set your beer on top of a bookcase and walked up behind him to lean over his shoulder and whisper in his ear.

"You having some trouble there angel?"

You heard his breath hitch in his throat at your low sultry tone and he turns his head to look at you with wide eyes.

"I've never-I dont..." His gruff voice was full of confusion. You looked down to see him trying to cover himself with his trenchant.

"I can take care of it for you." You offered sweetly.

"How?"

You grinned and went around to face him and gently pushed him backwards so he stumbled into a chair.

He sat there, legs spread and wide eyed. His face covered in shock and nervousness. You kneeled in front of him and gently ran your fingers up and down the tops of his thighs.

"What're you doing?"

"Will you let me show you just how pleasurable it is to have a human body?"

Cas hesitated, his eyes searching your own for a moment before nodding.

"I need words sweetheart."

"Yes. Yes please."

A satisfied smile spread over your face as you let your hands slide down to glide over his inner thighs. He shivered as your touch went higher and higher.

Slowly you reached up to undo his belt and slowly tugged his pants down, murmuring at him to lift his hips for you, which he did immediately.

He watched you closely as you kissed up his thighs, letting out a gasp when you bit down on the soft skin of his inner thigh. You ran your tongue over the bite mark soothingly. You turned your attention to his other thigh, leaving bites and hickies all the way up.

"So sensitive." You murmured before sucking another hickey onto his thigh. Cas groaned loudly, his hands gripping tightly at the arm rests of his chair.

You leaned forward to press a kiss to his tip straining against his boxers. He sucked in a harsh breath at the action.

You gently eased him out of his underwear, enamored with the way his cock pulled free.

He whimpered when he felt your breath against it, watching intently as you licked a stripe from base to tip. He let out a strangled groan as you took the tip into his mouth, swirling your tongue around it.

You slowly took more of him into your mouth, watching his face contort with pleasure and his breath quicken.

You began bobbing your head as you took more and more of him in, eventually feeling him hit the back of your throat. He began messily thrusting into your mouth, the feelings overtaking him.

You reached up to guide his hand to your head and he immediately gripped your hair to start pushing you down on his cock. You choked a bit at first but quickly adjusted to his pace. His head lolled back as moans and groans loudly.

It didn't take long before his hips started to stutter and he tried to press you further onto his cock despite your face already being buried in his curly thick hair.

After a few more thrusts he finally emptied into your mouth, whimpering and moaning. You swallowed before gently pulling off.

Cas was panting heavily staring up at the ceiling, slowly he lowered his head to look down at you.

"You like that angel?" You grinned proudly.

"That was...unlike anything I've ever experienced."

You pressed a soft kiss to his thigh before reaching to pull his underwear back on, but he grabbed his wrists to stop you.

"What about you?"

"You don't need to worry about me sweetheart."

"I want you to feel it too." His voice was gruff, tone full of want. His eyes were intent and his cheeks were still flushed. You softened, it was sweet of him.

You stood up and leaned in to kiss him, which he happily accepted. It didn't take long until your tongue was in his mouth, he sighed at the feeling. His lips moved against yours, he was inexperienced but he was still trying. And you found it adorable.

He reached his hands up to hesitantly rest on your waist and you moved to sit on his lap, your thighs on either side of his waist. He made a small noise of surprise but continued kissing you hungrily.

You gently started to grind your hips against his, and the simple action had him moaning again and rolling his hips up into you. You grinding against him with your soaked panties was enough to make him feel that desperation and need all over again.

You'd started moaning yourself, the friction was immensely pleasurable, especially as you felt him grow hard again. God it was delicious.

You pulled back and started kissing his neck, sucking hickies onto his skin as you ran your fingers through his hair. You started to grind harder against him, enjoying the sweet breathy moans it pulled from him.

He knew he sounded pathetic, absolutely drunk on you despite being a warrior of heaven. But he really didn't care. The only thing he cared about was you and the things you were making him feel in that moment.

"More. Need more." He rasped out.

"Oh my sweet angel. I'll give you more." You whispered in his ear before nibbling his earlobe. He moaned in response, his hands tightening his grip on your waist.

You tugged your panties to the side and gently guided him to your entrance before sinking down onto him, gasping at the feeling. His fingers dug into your hips so hard you were certain there would be bruises.

You settled fully onto him, hands running through his hair.

"This what you were wanting Cas?" Your tone was teasing.

"God yes." He groaned.

Slowly you started to move on him, rolling your hips, finding the tempo that'd have both of you moaning and stuttering incoherently. His hands tugged your shirt off and he toyed with your breasts, pinching at your nipples and groping you.

And God was it good. He dragged against you in a way you'd never experienced before, and the way you fluttered and clenched around him had him crying out into your shoulder.

Over and over you murmured words of praise, encouraging him as he desperately fucked up into you.

It really didn't take long to reach your climax, clamping down on him as you cried out into his shoulder. He desperately kept going, trying his best not to release until you'd completely finished. And when you'd fallen limp against him he thrust into you a few more times before you felt heat fill you.

You both sat there for a few moments, panting as you held onto each other. Slowly you eased yourself off of him.

"Can you get me a wet washcloth please?"

He grunted and nodded, maneuvering you so you were sitting in the chair. He stood and pulled up his pants before walking off and coming back with a warm wet washcloth and kneeled down to clean you up. He froze though, enamored with the way his cum was dripling out of you.

"Cas?"

Your voice pulled him out of his stupor and he stuttered an apology before gently cleaning you up and helping you put your shirt on.

When he was done you stood up unsteady and he quickly moved to pick you up and carry you to your room.

"This isn't necessary." You chuckled.

"Of course it is." His tone made it clear there was no argument to be made.

"Well thank you." You pressed a kiss to his cheek and giggled when he blushed.

He set you down on your bed, bringing you a new pair of underwear.

"Thank you." He mumbled as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"You don't have to thank me," you chuckled, "I enjoyed it too."

"I just mean, thank you for giving me such a pleasurable experience. It's one I will never forget. And...I glad it was with you."

You practically melted at his words and hugged him from behind, "Let me know if you ever want to do it again."

He nodded in response.

You had a feeling he'd be coming to your room a lot more frequently.

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 34 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Without you at home, Bradley's big mouth is about to get him in trouble. As he counts down the hours until he can pick you up from the airport, you wrap up your trip to Maryland with a visit to your childhood home. However, you're not as smooth as you think you are. By the time you get back to San Diego, you are an absolute train wreck, and some secrets have been revealed.

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy topics, angst, fluff

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

On Thursday morning, Bradley got to work a little bit early. He just needed to make a tiny detour to one of the database computers. He really wasn't sure if you realized that you told him Commander Patterson's first name last night, or if you let it slip by accident, but now that he knew it, he just wanted to check him out.

Every trip you took to Annapolis turned into some sort of disaster at one point or another. He couldn't imagine you were out there looking for trouble, but it sure did find you in the form of Derek or Josh. You were the most capable person Bradley knew, but he loved and respected you enough to know that sometimes you needed a break. Right now, he just wanted to bring you back home and take care of every tiny need or want that you or the baby might have. He'd honestly fucking delight in that.

As soon as he logged into the system, Bradley typed in your full name, complete with Bradshaw hyphenated at the end. A second later, your image appeared on the screen complete with lovely smile and gorgeous eyes. "That's my Baby Girl," he muttered, still captivated by this photo of you. 

He forced his fingers back to the keyboard, but no results appeared when he looked for Derrick Patterson. He tried Paterson. Then he tried Derick. Then he tried Derek Patterson and saw the face of the asshole who made his wife cry over a steak dinner. Were you more emotional right now than perhaps you would usually be? Absolutely. But that was only because you were pregnant. As soon as you told him you had a positive pregnancy test, Bradley's number one concern in this world simply switched from his wife to his wife and his child. 

This guy looked like a real tool. Forty-four years old. Ranked up to Commander two years ago. Worked in a simulation lab. Had the same degrees from the Naval Academy that you earned. "Yeah, well I can guarantee you're not as smart as her, you motherfucker."

He took another minute to memorize what he saw there before logging out. Maybe he'd ask Maverick about him. Cyclone and Warlock would be good resources, too. Bradley just hated that he wasn't able to make you feel safe and comfortable at the moment, but as soon as he picked you up tomorrow, he'd take care of everything. 

When he started to head out to the tarmac, he literally ran into someone while he was adding steaks to the grocery list he saved in his phone. He didn't know how to cook a steak, but he'd get them just in case you were still in the mood for one. "Sorry," he muttered, not really looking up, too concerned with what else you might want.

"It's okay, Bradley."

Then he did look up into the dark eyes of Maria Wilson. "Hey," he said with a smile at your good friend. "I've been meaning to ask you... how's rooming with Bob going for you?"

"Great," she replied with a little shrug and a completely neutral expression. "He's clean and courteous, and I think the arrangement is going to work out really well." 

If he didn't know better, Bradley would have believed nothing was going on. She was that good. But he did know better. He wasn't going to do Bob dirty, so he just nodded and said, "I hope it does work out. I've always felt a little bad about stealing my wife away from you."

She just laughed and said, "Like we didn't all see that coming a mile away."

He wandered off with a grin on his face after he said goodbye. He was planning on making a few stops on the way home before Jake showed up to workout together later. Bradley just had to get through one more night and then you'd be back.

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

You were an idiot for eating two steaks and seventeen pounds of sides and then passing out for the night. Sure, at the time, it seemed like the best idea you'd ever had. Derek's porterhouse hit the fucking spot like nothing else. The potatoes were creamy and delectable. The brussels sprouts? A thing of beauty.

But Thursday morning, you were back to your normal routine of throwing up as soon as you got out of bed. "I get it, okay?" you gasped as you sprawled out on the bathroom floor. "I understand," you added, letting your hand settle on your belly. "You miss your Dad. Well guess what. I miss him, too. Now will you stop acting out if I promise to take you home tomorrow?"

A soft gurgle as your stomach started to settle was the response you got, and that was actually better than you could have hoped for. When you heard tapping on your hotel room door, you knew it was Cat, and you wanted to cry. You were wearing Bradley's UVA shirt and a pair of your ratty underwear and nothing else, and she'd just keep knocking until you answered. 

"I'm coming," you moaned, actually crawling most of the way there. You pulled yourself up and then cracked the door open a few inches, and you were met with Cat's appraising eyes. "Hi."

"I just wanted to know if you wanted to get breakfast with me," she said cautiously.

"No, I'm good, but thanks for asking." You tried to close the door, but her foot was immediately preventing that. 

"Are you sick?" she asked. "I can bring something back for you."

"No, I'm okay," you told her. Your stomach lurched, and your eyes went wide. You had about ten seconds to get rid of her and make it to the toilet. You didn't know what to do as saliva pooled at the back of your tongue. You started to gag as your eyes filled with tears. 

"Hey," she said softly. "If something's wrong, you can tell me."

But you shook your head and let go of the door, making a mad dash back into the bathroom. You barely made it to your knees in front of the toilet before you barfed again. "Why?" you moaned, wiping your mouth with toilet paper before rolling onto the bath mat which had become your best friend.

"Oh my god," Cat muttered as she walked right into your hotel room bathroom. She flushed the toilet and then turned to the sink and started to fill one of the disposable cups with water. "You're pregnant," she stated plainly. "You could have told me, you know. Congratulations, by the way."

As she knelt on the floor next to you, she helped you sit up. You accepted the cup from her and said, "It's just food poisoning." She blinked at you a few times, giving you no wiggle room to lie to her. "Fine," you admitted with a little smile, "I'm pregnant."

She ran the backs of her fingers along your forehead while you sipped the water. "How far along are you?"

"About nine or ten weeks," you whispered as you closed your eyes for a few beats. "I'm just really tired and really fucking sick. I felt good last night, but now I feel terrible again."

Cat took the empty cup from your hand and wrapped you up in a soft hug. "Thank you for holding it together for the presentation. Now you need to get back into bed."

You shook your head and said, "I need to get up and moving so I can go see my parents later."

"No," she said firmly, guiding you back to the bed. "You need to rest right now. You'll feel better if you do." 

Part of you wanted to make sure your suitcase was closed so she didn't see your vibrators, but mostly you didn't even care. She had a certain way about her that was calming you down, and as soon as you were in the bed, she tucked you in. You almost believed her when she told you that resting would help you feel better. 

"Where's your room key?" she asked once you were curled up on your side.

You let one hand sneak out from under the covers and pointed. "Next to the TV."

She patted your shoulder and promised she would be back soon, and then she was gone. You dozed on and off while your stomach gurgled, and you missed a few texts from Bradley. When Cat eventually opened your door and let herself in, you were actually feeling hungry. And that's when you noticed two bags and a cup carrier in her hands. 

Quietly, she set everything down on your nightstand including some orange juice that almost brought a tear to your eye. Somehow she knew that was what you needed when you didn't even know yourself. You sat up as she poked a hole in the lid and handed it to you, and you drank half of it down in one sip.

"You need to eat something," she whispered, taking the cup away again. "I got you a bagel with cream cheese, an egg sandwich, a few different kinds of donuts and a muffin."

You reached for the bagel, and she unwrapped it for you. "I'll pay you back," you rasped, but she shook her head.

"Don't worry about it. Just make the baby happy, and we're square," she replied as she sank down into the chair beside the bed.

But you were definitely going to worry about it. Money was very tight for Cat and Jeremiah, so you would have to figure out a way to make it even. She probably spent about forty bucks on all of this for you, and somehow she knew that a sesame seed bagel with cream cheese would go down as happily as the steaks did. You devoured the whole thing and then took some bites out of the egg and cheese sandwich before finishing the orange juice. 

Then you drank some of the hot tea as well and nibbled on a muffin, and you felt so much better. Cat asked you a few questions, but she didn't pry. "Bradley must be over the moon," she said softly with a sad smile. 

"Oh yeah," you told her, knowing that her ex-husband did not have a relationship with Jeremiah. "He dubbed the baby the chicken nugget." When she laughed, you added, "He's very excited to be a dad."

"He'll be a good one," she confirmed with a nod. "Now why don't you rest for a few more hours, and then I can drop you off at your parents' house so you don't have to drive."

"You don't have to do that."

"I'll drop you off and then go to the outlet mall. There are some things I want to get for Jer, and then I can pick you up again." She probably knew it wasn't a good idea to let you drive like this, and you were honestly kind of thankful that she offered.

"Alright." You fell asleep again as soon as she was gone.

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

When Bradley left work, it was blazing hot out, and he had his aviators on while he walked to the parking garage. It was already late as hell in Maryland, and he was a little afraid you had already left your parents and gone back to the hotel for the night. But your phone only rang briefly before you answered his FaceTime call.

"Bradley," you sighed, looking better than he'd seen you in weeks. "Here, say hi to everyone."

You turned your phone to reveal both of your parents along with Cat, sitting around the dining room table in the house where he was finally getting used to spending his holidays. They all greeted him warmly before your mom took the phone and asked him at least a dozen questions.

"Are you eating enough without her at home? How's work? How's Tramp? When can we come visit again, because she's not giving us a clear answer?"

She said nothing about the baby, so Bradley assumed you were holding yourself together well enough that it hadn't been mentioned. "I've been subsiding on cereal. Work is great. Tramp is great. I've been thinking about starting a project to expand the upstairs into another bedroom or two, so hopefully after that's finished, you and dad can stay as long as you want."

Bradley knew they would feel like a handful for him if they stayed at the house again, but that was only because he liked being alone with you. He really wanted to take a minute to talk to you privately, but your dad took the phone next so he could show off his latest painting project. When he finally got handed back to you, apparently it was time for you and Cat to head out. 

"I'll let you know when the flight leaves tomorrow," you told him. "Love you, Roo."

And that was it. With a deep sigh, he started up the red Bronco and headed to the store on his way home. He hated shopping in his uniform; he always got a bunch of looks from people, mostly women. He tried to make it quick, but it took him a little time to gather up steaks, potatoes, garlic, your favorite coffee, and all of the yellow flowers in the floral section. 

He barely had all of the food put away at home when Jake knocked twice on the front door before letting himself in the house. "It's like he fucking lives here," Bradley muttered to Tramp who had been waiting for his scoop of dinner before he ran to see Jeremiah.

"Hey, man," Jake called out. He had Cat's son tucked under one arm and some weird contraption under the other, and he was wearing gym clothes. "Did you just get home?"

"Yeah," Bradley replied, unable to keep himself from smiling when Jeremiah reached out for him. He took the little boy in his arms and told him, "I had to get some stuff for my wife. You remember her. She's your favorite babysitter. She read you some books while you fell asleep, because her voice is the sweetest thing in the world."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Angel made you soft, old man."

Bradley pointed to Jeremiah. "And this little thing made you soft, so you don't have a leg to stand on."

He just kind of shrugged in response and took the child back as he said, "Go get changed. I'll meet you in the garage."

As Jake disappeared through the sliding glass door, Bradley headed to the bedroom. He stripped out of his uniform and put on some shorts and a Top Gun shirt that was starting to fit a little snug across his biceps and chest again. This was a good sign, because he wanted to bulk up as much as possible. He'd be ready to haul the baby and all of the gear around so you didn't have to. 

His thoughts were on you and the baby. You. Baby. You. Baby. He couldn't wait until both of you were home tomorrow. When he walked out to the garage, he found Jake doing a few pushups while Jeremiah played with a stuffed tiger while he sat in some sort of portable crib.

"What is that thing?" Bradley asked as he reached for his lifting gloves. "A mini crib?"

Jake jumped to his feet as he said, "It's called a pack 'n play, but yeah, it's kind of a mini crib that folds up."

"Huh," he replied, eyeing it up so he could search online for that kind of thing later. "Looks handy. We're definitely going to need one of those."

Jake was frozen in place, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. "Is Angel pregnant? I knew her ass looked bigger." A grin curled along his lips, and that was when Bradley realized he had fucked up.

"Oh, shit," he muttered as his heart rate sped up and he started to sweat. You were going to be so upset. Your own parents didn't even know yet, but now Jake did, and it was all his fault.

"She's pregnant!" Jake practically shouted. "Congratulations, Rooster," he said, pulling Bradley into a hug and slapping him on the back. "You finally figured out which hole to put it in, huh?" he asked with an absolutely obnoxious grin.

Bradley glared at him. "Seriously. Nobody else knows about this yet. She might murder me if she finds out you know."

"I won't say shit about it," Jake promised, cuffing him on the shoulder before releasing him. "Damn, she must be excited. I know you both wanted this."

"Yeah," Bradley rasped, just knowing his face must be flushed pink. He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm so fucking happy and scared and nervous, I can barely make it through a day without her here, you know?"

Jeremiah roared and held up the tiger for Bradley. He took it and made it roar back before pretending it was kissing Jeremiah all over his face. His laugh was infectious, and it left Bradley smiling. 

"Damn," Jake drawled. "I think you're ready for the parenting thing."

"I know I am," he replied, fixing him with a serious look. "I'm ready."

Jake sighed and nodded. "But you still have a lot to learn. Do you know about outlet covers?"

Bradley's eyes went wide. "No. What are those?"

"How about white noise to help a baby sleep? Do you know what a convertible car seat is?"

"No," Bradley whispered, "No, I don't."

Jake settled back onto the bench and reached for the barbell. "Spot for me, and I'll tell you everything I've learned."

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

It was finally Friday morning, and Cat was knocking on your door with another round of food and orange juice before you were even out of bed. When you let her in, she set everything up on the nightstand while you went to use the bathroom, and you were pleasantly surprised that you didn't need to throw up while you were in there.

"Eat as much as you can," she told you. "I asked them to give you a late checkout, so you can stay here until noon, and then we'll head to the airport."

"You're a saint," you told her with a mouth full of bagel. "I owe you so much money for this, you have to let me pay you back."

She just shook her head. "I'll let you babysit Jer so Jake and I can go out one night. Assuming I'm still in a relationship after we get bad to San Diego later tonight."

"You will be," you told her as you sipped the orange juice. "Jake isn't stupid." You paused before you set the juice down in favor of a donut. "Well... he's kind of stupid, but not when it comes to this."

Cat reached into the bag for another donut. "Seriously, if he and Bernie can't figure their shit out, I'll pull the plug and never look at another man again."

"Sometimes they really aren't worth the aggravation," you remarked, thinking back to every guy you dated before Bradley. "But sometimes they surprise you."

She didn't say anything else as she finished her donut. Then she let you take a nap, and when you got up and got dressed, you felt pretty amazing. Your stomach was gurgling quietly, and you looked okay enough to skip the makeup today. 

You dragged your suitcase out into the hallway and texted Bradley, letting him know you were going to be heading to the airport soon, and he responded almost immediately. 

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: i'll meet you in baggage claim sweetheart. i can't wait to have you and the nugget back home with me

You practically moaned, and also started tearing up as Cat met you in the hallway. "When willI I be normal again?" you whispered. "All I want to do is have rough, frequent sex with my husband, but every time I think about how sweet he is, I start crying."

She laughed and said, "You won't feel normal until about six months postpartum. Just have fun running that man ragged."

You nodded and wiped at your tears. "Where's our equipment bin?"

"Already in the car."

"You weren't supposed to move it alone! It's so heavy."

"And you shouldn't be carrying anything like that at all," she scolded, pushing you gently toward the elevators. "I took care of it. I'll take care of it all day, and I'll get your suitcase when we get to the airport, too."

You sobbed the whole way down in the elevator and most of the ride to the airport. When you said thank you, Cat told you to be quiet which made you smile and also cry more. You'd get Bradley to agree to watch Jeremiah for a whole weekend. It would give the two of you some practice, and it would give Cat and Jake time alone. There was no way he was going to mess anything up.

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

Bradley parked the red Bronco at the airport with a vase of flowers in the cup holder and an ultrasound picture tucked into the visor. Your flight had been delayed a few times, and he figured you were probably starving now. He picked up the container of peanut butter crackers he prepared and started to head inside, still a little too early but with nothing better to do.

He found an empty bench, and it wasn't long before Jake came strolling in with Jeremiah in his arms. Bradley stood up, jostling the snack container as he muttered, "You're not going to say anything to her, right?"

"Relax," Jake replied as Jeremiah reached for the crackers. "I won't say a word about her being pregnant. You can count on me."

That actually made him feel a lot more nervous as he opened up the container, broke a cracker in half and handed it to Jeremiah. "Okay. Just pretend you don't know a thing about it."

He watched Jeremiah get crumbs all over Jake's shirt as Jake checked his phone. "Sure. Hey, they landed. Cat said they're walking off the plane now."

Bradley checked his phone, but there was absolutely nothing from you, which was really strange. "Huh." He stood there awkwardly as he'd been left out of the loop, handing the other half of the cracker to Jeremiah when he reached for it. 

He watched Jake typing one handed, and then he said, "Apparently there was a ton of turbulence. Angel got pretty sick." When he met Bradley's eyes, he kind of shrugged. "Sounds like she's in bad shape."

Bradley ran his fingers through his hair until it was sticking up at an odd angle. "What's that supposed to mean? How is she in bad shape?" He looked over toward the partition that blocked off the area he wouldn't be able to get past without a boarding pass while he started to panic. Was he going to have to take you to the hospital or something? The cereal and potato chips he had for dinner started to sour in his stomach as he started walking in that direction. 

Then he saw you, and he started running. Cat had her arm around you, and she was carrying your tote bag along with her backpack while you sipped a can of ginger ale through a straw. Bradley could see fresh tears in your eyes as they met his. "Oh, Sweetheart."

"Roo," you croaked, and he closed the rest of the distance to you and carefully took you in his arms. "I was horrible."

Cat took the ginger ale from your hand, and you collapsed against him, a sobbing, shaking mess. "It's okay," he promised you. "You're home now, and I will take care of everything."

You nodded against his chest, and he let you cry. "I threw up so much. I was fine, but then it was really rough, and the baby hates me anyway." You cried harder, and then Jake was there with Jeremiah. He took the container of crackers so Bradley could rub your back with both hands. You hiccupped against him and mumbled, "You can say what you want. Cat knows. She guessed it. Then she took care of me."

Bradley wasn't surprised in the least that someone who had been pregnant before was able to tell that you were now. "Okay," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. He held you close and gave both Cat and Jake a stern look. "Do you want to go ahead and tell Jake?" he asked carefully. 

"Yeah," you groaned, leaning toward Jake slightly. "I'm pregnant."

If Jake didn't get Bradley out of this debacle safely, he was going to ban him from the home gym. But he should have known that above anything else in this scenario, Jake was going to have your back.

"Aww, Angel," he crooned as Jeremiah climbed into Cat's arms. "I'm so happy for you, mama." Then he kissed your cheek and winked at Bradley. "You'll be a natural, and ol' Rooster here's gonna be a class act. Now why don't you let him take you home? I can get the bin of your work stuff."

"You sure?" Bradley asked, giving Jake a discreet fist bump as you buried your face against his chest again. You were half burrowed inside his tropical print shirt at this point, and his undershirt was damp; he just wanted to get you home.

"We'll take care of it," Cat promised. "She's dehydrated. Make sure she drinks water or gatorade. And she needs to try to eat something." Jake handed the crackers back to Bradley. "Yeah, those might work, but she really needs to keep drinking."

"Got it," Bradley replied, kissing your forehead. "Thank you, Cat."

"It was my pleasure," she said with a smile as she cuddled Jeremiah. 

"Let's go, Baby Girl," Bradley whispered, leading you to get your suitcase as you sipped the ginger ale and nibbled on a cracker. He kept his hand at the small of your back as you sucked in deep breath after deep breath. "I'll get you home and into bed as quickly as possible."

You sniffed and looked up at him. "I just want you with me. That's all I wanted all week." 

Your lips quivered, and Bradley leaned in to kiss you as softly as he could. "That's all I wanted, too. I'm not going to leave your side." He kept you right there with him as he scooped up your luggage, and then he had his arm around you until he got you to the Bronco. With a kiss to your perfect cheek, he opened the door, helped you in, and buckled your seatbelt.

"Thanks, Roo," you sighed, eyes closed as you leaned back against the headrest, already looking more serene now that you and he were together.

"I would do anything for you." He stroked your belly with his fingertips. "Both of you."

Five minutes into the drive home, you were sound asleep, your fingers laced with his.

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

I can already feel how much calmer she is just knowing she doesn't have as much to worry about with Bradley by her side. And he's going to be so much less stressed with her at home. It's looking like next chapter could be the last one in this series!!!! I'm hoping to do some one-shots for them and then pick up with another series? Please let me know what you'd like to see during and after her pregnancy. And thank you for reading! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 35

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[crappymixtape]

sweet like summer

REQUEST → @palmtreesx3, SUMMER BLURB PARTY ❝ 💿 bff's to lovers maybe a little spicy – summer steve. summer steve! ( song x blurb with steve harrington x reader – this one is a lil fluffy, a lil flirty, a lil hot, roadtripping the west coast with stevie and stopping at a bar to dance after spending all day at the beach – recommended to listen to your song while reading! )

S W E E T L I K E S U M M E R SONG PICK -> 🎶 sunset girl, carpool tunnel

Your hair was still windswept, salt turned wavy and kissed by the sun and your sandals scratched in the sand under your feet on the dance floor. The west coast was unlike anything you’d ever seen, definitely nothing like Hawkins, and you wished you could bottle it up and bring it home with you.

It was all sunshine and surfer boys, shells and sea glass, gulls crying out over the crash of the waves and warm sand under your skin. California was your last stop, though Steve had teased about taking a detour through New Mexico on the way back, and you were trying to drink up every last little drop. You never wanted to leave.

You’d found the little hole in the wall taco joint on Trip Advisor and damn if the reviews weren’t right. It was some of the best food you’d ever had and Tuesdays had live music. There wasn’t a free table in the whole place and the dance floor was crowded, filled with people swaying along with the twangy riffs and reverbs coming from the surf rock band on stage.

Three margaritas deep, you could’ve sworn you were floating with the way your best friend held you close to his chest, Steve, Steve, Steve. One hand pressed wide and warm to your lower back and the other tangled up with yours. He hadn’t stopped grinning the second you got up from your table, but when the music slowed a bit it softened. Shifted smaller, unsure, a mixture of what if we mess this up and I've never wanted you more. He’d never looked at you like that before, but you found yourself lost in it as the lyrics wove through the space between you.

❝ WHAT D'YOU GOT GOING ON TONIGHT? I CAN TELL BY YOUR CURLY HAIR, WE'LL BE FADED OUT OF SIGHT.

Steve slowed, feet bumping into yours and a breathy laugh fell from your lips.

“Steve–”

He chuckled too, “Sorry.”

But then his eyes met yours, warm honey, burnt caramel, like swimming in a pool of liquid amber and it was like you couldn’t breathe. Your pulse fluttering against your neck and heart skipping in your chest.

Steve’s lips pulled up at the corner, shy, his fingers shifting over the thin fabric of your dress at your waist. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, tongue chasing over his lower lip. “I really want to kiss you,” he murmured and your skin buzzed where his fingers pressed to you. Singing under his touch, more, more, more.

❝ CAN'T PUSH IT, IF I DARE. OH, MY GIRL, MY GIRL.

The band didn’t exist anymore and everyone else faded away, blurring and swept away by the feeling of Steve. You heard gulls and the soft wash of waves on the sand, saw the way Steve smiled at you as he pulled you into the surf with him.

“Wanna kiss you too,” you whispered back and it was like you’d redefined time. Seconds more like minutes or hours, stretching out as Steve leaned closer and closer.

The soft sweep of his lashes over the apples of his cheeks, the strong line of his jaw and the moles chasing down his neck, the perfectly messy brown locks of hair falling over his forehead and lips so soft, pressed to yours.

Tentative, slow, langid, curious, wanting.

❝ A GEM, SO PERFECT YOU SEE. A DREAM, SO RARE.

It was a little shy at first, but as soon as you’d tasted each other you knew you were done for, would never have enough, would always be left wanting more, more, more.

“More Steve,” you said into him and he swallowed your words, pulled soft, sweet sounds from you and nestled them deep between his ribs to bloom like wildflowers, a bright, warm thing he would cherish forever.

His fingers squeezed at your waist, pressing into the plush of your hip and pulling you into him so close you could smell the faded scent of his coconut sunscreen, cedar and leather from his aftershave this morning and the sweet, heady musk of sweat – beading along the hollow of his collarbone, the swell of your chest, the press of your bodies in the heat.

He nosed at your neck and you gave him more access, head tilting back lazy, drugged, drowning in Steve as he dragged kisses across your skin and the sounds that had started out soft and sweet shifted needy. A low whine that blew his pupils wide and when you carded your hands through his hair, tugged on the ends and made him see stars, he squeezed at your hand.

❝ I'D GO THE EXTRA MILE TO SEE HER AT MY DOOR ONCE MORE – SUNSET GIRL.

“Take me back to the room,” you whispered, lips brushing against the shell of his ear and it melted any reservations he had left.

“Mmhm,” was all he could manage.

His fingers tangled up with yours as he led you out of the restaurant, both of you laughing low under your breaths at how ridiculous you felt, at how desperate it was. He’d turn to catch you in a kiss at the crosswalks and you’d tug at his bottom lip, drive him crazy, pushing yourselves to the point you were practically running back to the hotel.

And when you finally fell in through the door at your room, fingers scrambling to tug your dress up over your head, throwing his shirt off to the floor, Steve made you fall apart again and again until long after the ocean swallowed the sun.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[jokin-around]

I made a Twitter thread about this, but I've been reading early issues of Batman lately and something I've noticed is how differently the contrast between Batman and "Bruce Wayne" is depicted

obviously, in many things today, "Bruce" (ESPECIALLY in fandom) is often depicted as a happy-go-lucky himbo in order to draw contrast with a grim and "tortured" batman

so how does this hold up when you look at older depictions? the answer: it doesn't. in fact it was almost the opposite.

way back in the very first issues of the official Batman title, Bruce Wayne, no matter WHAT he's doing, isn't the one who laughs and smiles, Batman is.

and these are comics that were published BEFORE the comics code authority caused a dramatic shift in tone

Bruce Wayne (or least the cardboard cutout refered to as Bruce Wayne) isn't nessecarily described as grim, but he isn't a very happy person either, he's still a rich airhead, but not so much a "himbo" or even a dedicated businessman, he's depicted as a BORED, uninterested, aristocrat:

this Bruce seems to spend of his time smoking a pipe at home or mingling with other upperclass individuals, that in-between we tend to see MUCH more often in modern comics doesn't seem to exist yet (in part because the batcave Is non-existent which I suspect has given him a bit more privacy as a character)

MEANWHILE Batman, who's investigates murders every other night almost seems to be having the time of his life:

the early comics seem to routinely depict the burgoise as cold, snobbish & bored, in contrast to batman who seems particularly expressive and joyful, for all we know Batman may partially exist as some millionaires weird passtime, but of course Bruce Wayne (the real guy, not the facade) is written as someone who genuinely seems to care due to his own past experiences:

but , with all of that layed out, one can conclude that when ppl say Batman is the "true persona" ect. originally, it wasn't (just) because of his coping or whatever it was because when he wasn't Batman he was forced to live life as a cold, "useless" millionaire:

"what if a rich a guy gave a fuck?" is still very much the base concept here, but what's surprising is how much BITE there is to it

the concept wasn't being proposed because it's like… a plausible thing to happen or attainable on a personal level, but because the rich reliably and consitently do not care

the rich ppl in this book, "Bruce Wayne" included, are not written to be envied as people. they're written to be insufferable. ppl with endless resources who are still somehow unsatisfied with life and choose to do nothing useful or direct with the amount wealth they've accumulated

but ofc it shouldn't be ALL THAT surprising, Batman debuted in Detective Comics in 1939…. ONE year after the great depression, Bob and Bill had more than a good reason to feel a bit bitter

but rolling back to the point of this analysis, whenever I say "let batman be happy" I mean "let Batman enjoy his job" despite the pain, despite the death, despite the murder, despite the hypocritical nature of it all and how problematic it may be because it's a life he also chooses, not just out of compulsion, but because it's hands on, direct & purposeful. it gives him something to do & it gives him a chance to punch a problem in the face (which may be good or bad depending on what that problem is, but still)

that kind of depiction is what set up the groundwork for nearly every deconstruction that's come since but it's so buried in time at this point that lines from characters claiming bruce "loves being batman" seem to ring completely hollow

tbh, I think the old way of depicting Batman can be ( and as been in some media) woven into the way he's depicted today, in the past Batman was an outlet for every emotion Bruce Wayne had to hide elsewhere, a symbol of empathy, fury and passion, for modern Batman, I imagine those three things still hold true, layered on top of an alter ego that allows a modern Bruce Wayne to be weird and damaged and dark.

so uh, ln conclusion, I think batman enjoying what he does to a certain extent is a crucial aspect of his character that's been lost and withered and forgotten about, let him a have a little fun, we can discuss the ramifications of all that when discussion seems necessary

[proposalanonaita]

FINE.

The date is fast approaching (seven and a half weeks left), I've had sufficient quantities of Malbec, and I'm realizing that whoever suggested that writing my vows would be MUCH more harrowing than talking about my feelings to internet nobodies.....had a fair point; I should at least attempt to put it all to words before I write the real drafts.

Ugh.

I should probably start by stating that I'm WELL aware of who I am. Rest assured, I know that I'm stunningly abrasive. And controlling. And petty, conniving, misanthropic, or whatever other adjectives you've been calling me in the tags (yes, I DID read those, and it IS weird of so many of you to be calling for my divorce. I thought you were supposed to be nicer than I am?).

All this to say, I've always been cognizant of being an acquired taste. Partly because I've always BEEN an acquired taste. I tone it down in public, and in most of my personal relationships, but I am, down to my core, a Mean Mother Fucker.

With partners before my fiancé, I had to make myself more palatable to stay together. The men I dated were FAR too nice, and snipping with them at all felt like I was a heavyweight champion facing off against a toddler. So I reigned it in. It worked, but no matter how well things were going on paper, I didn't feel like I was myself with any of them.

I was even less myself with The Shithead. I'm NOT getting into the entirety of that particular tire fire here, you little freaks already know FAR too much about me and I won't have you tagging the gory details of the worst part of my life with #bob the builder/fuzzy wuzzy or whatever you're into.

He was horrible to me, I turned dangerously timid, I'm lucky I had enough Mean left in me to get the fuck out. He's changed enough by now that I considered inviting him to the wedding, it was bad enough back then I'm very glad I didn't. Enough said.

...I'm talking quite a bit up here because I still hate having to say any of the next part. Call me an emotionless villain for that if you want to, I am far too employed and 30 to care very much.

Ugh, ugh, ugh.

So.

The thing is, there are people that KNOW me, and there are people who LIKE me. My parents know me, and I've never doubted they love me, but that's not LIKING me as a person. That's a contractual obligation of birthing me. My friends like me, some even like me when I'm catty, but I need to be careful to hold myself back, at the risk of losing them. At best, people loved "me", not ME.

For decades, this was just the way the world was. It was a fact of life- The sky is blue, I'm secretly unlovable, the Earth goes around the sun.

And then, against all odds, I found my fiancé, who manages to do both.

He sees ALL of me. Every square inch, every fleeting thought, every horrible little quirk of my rotten personality. And THEN, as if that weren't bad enough, he turns around and ENJOYS it all. He's not just tolerant of my least palatable traits, he's delighted. The more I show him, the more he likes.

It's awful. I'd say he stole my heart, but that sounds too pleasant. It's more like my heart is a cockroach he could squish at any moment, and I trust him not to, and I'm just supposed to wake up every morning and do the dishes and go to work as if this doesn't mean we're clearly orbiting Saturn. The sky is PURPLE now. What the fuck.

He could at least do me the favor of being completely, 100% perfect, because then I could blame his total lapse in judgement on that, but NO. He's a BASTARD.

I'm engaged to a big sweaty idiot who annoys me on purpose. He's terrible with his money. He tries to take me on HIKES, and JOGS, and CAMPING TRIPS. His taste in every single art form known to man is GARBAGE, he's constantly leaving his dirty socks on the floor, and he's such a bad driver I'm amazed he still has a license.

I've told him all of that to his face, and I've MEANT it, and he's just called me a bitch and asked me what I want for dinner. He knows that I'm unlovable, agrees that all those parts of me are in here, and then loves me anyway.

He loves me. He LOVES me. He loves ME.

I don't know what I'm meant to do with it all, but there's clearly SOMETHING wrong with his brain, so I guess I'll have to keep him, if only for his sake.

[witchthewriter]

𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏 𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒘𝒐.

⤷ gender neutral, Valyrian blood (dragon rider), and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: so I realised I didn't exactly go with the 'how they show their love'. Instead, I've changed it to general headcanons w/ your bonded dragon (because I can talk about a whole lot more!)

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐅𝐘𝐑𝐄

・Also known as 'The Mother of Dragons', her pale blue scales shone with silver detailing, giving an almost shimmering appearance.

・30% Aggressive, 35% Loving, 15% Graceful, 20% Wise

・A mother hen sometimes; won't fly until you've had something to eat, you MUST have your water satchel at all times

・Her favourite food is lamb, she cannot stand pig. Even if there isn't anything else to eat, she would rather starve. You have no idea why she's like that.

・LOVES the water, absolutely adores waterfalls in particular. That's where she likes flying off to.

・It's mind-blowing to see a dragon swim, a lizard-like head bobbing up and down. Making happy noises as she floats in the crystal-like water

・She's actually one of the dragons who does like to collect things. In can range from precious jewels to gold to shells to things she's found while swimming

・You bring her things if you've been away (she doesn't like when you don't visit her at least daily)

・But she forgives you when she sees the sack full of *things*

𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐘𝐒

・Known as 'The Red Queen,' in her youth, she was the fastest dragon in all of Westeros.

・When she was younger, and being trained; she excelled. So much so, that others wondered if she could become the next Balerion.

・Because it isn't just about brute strength, but understanding commands, connecting with what needs to be done etc. Some dragons learn the art of war, and others just ... participate in wars.

・That's why your father pushed you so hard to train. It wasn't to experience difficult situations, but to understand how Meleys would react to them. And in turn, she learned how you react.

・You and Meleys became known for your victories, for if there is a battle, or even a war, you and Meleys are called in.

・Meleys does not like to be touched by anyone but you - so you're the one who bathes her, who tends to her wounds.

・Meleys is very graceful, and likes to be preened. Especially the crown of thorns that grow from her head. With each year they seem to get stronger and larger.

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐗𝐄𝐒

・The most unique-looking dragon to ever exist in Westeros. And you love that about him.

・His elongated neck is one of your favourite features about him (he was a bit insecure about it when he was younger. His appearance freaked out not only other people, but the other dragons. Who basically shunned him

・He wasn't allowed in the Dragonpits because too many wanted to fit him.

・But Syrax, she was his only friend. Well, besides you...Well, you're his family.

・Both of you are loners, but intimidating loners. That's how you became the most formiddable pair. All that time together.

・Because then you started to move in connection with one another. Like magnets. Foreseeing each other's decisions, and being able to react; this connection makes it so easy to win battles.

・Even against other dragons and dragonriders, they just don't seem to be on your level.

・Caraxes is very warm, moreso than the other dragons as well. It may be because of his colouring, the fact that his fire is also so hot it melts men in armour where they stand. It might also be because his neck changes how his fire sits within him.

・Either way, it makes for a great help in the Winter when you're shivering, while in the clouds, flying.

𝐒𝐘𝐑𝐀𝐗

・Willful and stubborn, Syrax doesn't like flying unless the weather is nice.

・She LOVES being doted upon. Call her a good girl and she's yours.

・However, she does have a quick temper

・And doesn't like her limits pushed

・Understands when something is important, i.e., when she has to be used as a weapon (she likes using her fire - bit of a pyromaniac)

・She shows her love by flying you to the outlands of King's Landing or Dragstone. You love being near the water, with the sun beating down on you.

・Syrax is impatient though and you have to find a place where she can fall asleep underneath shade

・Snorts when she scares someone

・Syrax HATES when she gets dirty, and demands to be bathed every day

・Training her was actually a nightmare. She has the capacity to learn a lot but just doesn't have the ambition

・She had to be bribed with food, basically all the time.

𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄

・More of an introverted personality. Doesn't care for warfare, but trains when he has to. But when it comes to you, he will fight til the very end.

・Extremely loyal, doesn't like being away from you for very long

・And is the second best looking dragon in all of Westeros

・But you always tell him that he's the prettiest boi the world has ever seen

・The difference between Sunfyre and Seasmoke is that Sunfyre knows he's a hottie and loves the attention. Seasmoke doesn't care for the cheers of the crowd

・Seasmoke is a lot less self-indulged

・He does love being near the water. Definitely has Pisces energy about him.

・The pink frills behind his neck are very ticklish and once nearly shook you off because you wouldn't stop tickling them.

・He prefers to eat fish over anything

・And you actually made him a pearl necklace from all the oysters he finds while diving into the ocean

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐘𝐑𝐄

・The most beautiful dragon to ever grace Westeros.

・Known as 'Sunfyre the Golden.'

・Well that's what the Maesters had written in the history records

・Sunfyre is very stunning

・With gleaming gold scales that seem to create sunspots when the sun hits them

・His wings are pink entwined with gold. Pearlescent white showing here and there.

・Crowds flock to see Sunfyre

・And both you and Sunfyre love flying above those crowds, hearing the cheers as you swoop low and show off

・However, even though he loves being complimented, he mostly just wants to be loved. Adored. He hates being on his own, and absolutely loves when you sleep beside him.

・He will tug on your clothes when he's bored; but one time he accidentally bit you and you were so grumpy with him.

・To make up for it, he had brought back a dead sheep (in dragon language that means " I'm sorry " )

𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍

・One of the younger dragons, she is known as 'The Blue Queen.' Her name is after a Valyrian goddess. One of power and glory.

・But you just know her as Tess, and she nudges you whenever you do so

・She's your best friend, and you're hers.

・For a dragon, she's very reliable and down to earth (major metaphorical sense for the latter)

・Her appearance is nearly completely blue, with touches of pearlescent white on her horns. Her eyes are a glowing blue as is her flame.

・Very good around children, and has actually allowed one to touch her snout.

・Has a thirst for adventure and you show your love by allowing her her freedom

・Never chaining her in the dragonpit, your only command is not to go too far when she might be needed.

・She actually loves flying at night, and keeps herself steady so you can watch the stars

[marzipanandminutiae]

You don’t like 1920s, 1940s AND 1950s fashion? Damn what did the mid-century do to you lol. K but seriously why not the 50s? The skirts had volume and were long-ish (at least in high fashion) and blouses were well structured and fitted and often had embroidery or embellishments.

Obviously I don't hate ALL of it; no era is a monolith. But there are a few things these eras have in common that I hate:

The rise of synthetic fabrics, AKA Using Plastic To Make Clothing. We're now at a place in terms of clothing where its actively harder and more expensive to wear natural fibers than to wear clothing made entirely of a substance that leaches into our water, holds odors, makes us sweat more, doesn't generally last as long or admit as much repair over time as most natural textiles, and just Kind of Sucks all around except for a few very specific purposes. Synthetics weren't invented in the 1920s, and natural fibers were common in all of these eras than they are today, but it was definitely increasing amounts of "BUY THESE NEW EXCITING PROGRESSIVE MODERN FABRICS!!!" throughout the early and mid-20th century. Which pisses me off in principle.

Less practical garments unless you lived a very specific lifestyle- namely, access to washing machines and a willingness to launder clothing after just one wear. Modern clothing is just not great unless you have access to very frequent washing (see above re: holding odors more than many natural fibers) and barrier garments to keep sweat away from them and stretch the time between washes aren't a thing anymore for most people. In the eras mentioned, everyone was getting so excited about machine laundry capabilities- and who wouldn't? washing machines ARE a huge boon! no denying that! -that they shifted away from modes of dress designed to minimize the necessity of laundering outer clothes. Except now, with concerns about the aforementioned microplastic leaching from washing machines draining into municipal sewers and less mendable clothing- washing is a huge strain on garments, and wears them out faster if you do it too often -we need to be getting back to the system of having fewer but higher quality garments and washing them less often. Except we can't. Because some idiot in the 1920s said "whoopee nobody will ever need linen combinations or chemises that actually serve a purpose anymore!" and the subsequent decades continued it.

The silhouettes generally do not spark joy for me. 1920s actively makes me fly into a rage and scream into pillows, with the exception of robes de style MAYBE. 1940s...well, let's say there was a reason the New Look was so popular, and that's "no more boxy utility wartime clothes." I will give 1940s the hair prize here, though, because I like it better than any other decade 1920s-50s. I actually DO like the New Look! ...but not its combination with the bullet bra; yikes. This is highly subjective.

Some of the textiles, patterns, colors, and common embellishments used are just not my thing. I don't go in for Bold And Graphic And Geometric anything, usually. With a very very small number of exceptions. Polka dots and florals are also not my thing (unless the florals are on a dark background). Plastic jewelry? Hard pass. ~Fun~ motifs like fruit (except pomegranates which have Goth Appeal), the poodles on a poodle skirt, household objects, transportation, etc? No thank you; reads too Kindergarten Teacher for me. Again, not universal or exclusive to those eras- witness the 1880s chicken-print dress I saw an illustration of once -but more prevalent, to my eyes.

Hair. 1920s bobs make most people's heads look blocks. I love a good bob, but those are not Good in my opinion. 1920s Up Hair is usually meant to mimic a bob. 1930s was only a little bit better. 1940s, as I've said, was skirting the line for me and marginally acceptable. 1950s took us right back to a solid Nope with either short poodle cuts or pageboys as the main options for adult women. An occasional chignon maybe, but nothing else that appeals to me personally. just not great all around.

All of these eras were holier-than-thou about the Victorians and their fashion, which I love, so I'm petty about it. Yes please tell me more about how your plastic bullet bras or potato sack dresses are inherently superior to Grandma's elegant and comfortable long wool skirts with the perfect center back pleating. Oh, the 1860s were the ugliest fashion period ever in your opinion? Fascinating. I am setting your car on fire.

I actually DO like the New Look...which is heavily inspired by mid-19th century fashion, so that's not really any big surprise. Still has the issues with synthetic materials and the end of practical undergarments, though. Also, why stop at mid-calf for everyday skirts? Instep Or Bust You Cowards.

[losergames]

Chop Shop is strictly 18+ for language, themes, and potential explicit content. 

🔗 - Game Intro | Bug Report | ko-fi

WE ARE LIVE!!! Chop Shop has officially relaunched on Itch.io! Available to play on desktop, tablet and mobile.

Prologue - EP .02 are ready to play - the same as the previous demo - with a new word count of 120k. The choicescript demo will be taken down at the end of the month.

Thank you so much to those who have helped me during this transition period of development! It has been crazy frustrating but I am so much more in love with the game than ever. And thank you to everyone who has been patiently waiting - hope you enjoy all the new bits and bobs!!

PLAY THE NEW DEMO NOW!

AN: CS has had some significant rejigging and rewriting. You can read the authors notes under the cut.

chop shop now has it's own UI! woohoo! (totally did not kill me) this, of course, will come with teething problems and accessibility issues. i am welcome to constructive feedback!

there are a lot of new dialog boxes to explore, especially the dashboard, which includes the PC's profile, inventory, contacts and a glossary page. (the stat definitions page from the old choicescript demo has been scrapped, too much text that wasn't needed.)

chapters are now called episodes! not a huge change but i prefer the vibe yknow.

there have been some extensive rewrites - especially in ep .01, the bar scene got a lot more fleshing out - so i expect typos and grammar errors have slipped through. this doesn't bother me too much but i appreciate any one who spots them to send them in!

there is now an 'end game' scenario in ep. 01. i won't be providing a walkthrough as i think it's relatively obvious given the scenario but it does give you an achievement!

i've kept achievements like the old choicescript demo but it no longer rewards points. maybe i will think of something to reward the player with later down the line?? who knows

i don't want to explain ALL the new details as i really encourage people to go find all the new flavour text and other things etc!!

next -- if you have not noticed, i have added a bug report to the links list. all issues, bugs, and errors found in the public demo can now be reported via the new bug report form.

in terms of writing, i am now porting episode 3. i have had rewrite plans for this chapter for a while, so i imagine this port will take some time. i was in the middle of writing episode 4 when i decided to make the twine jump lmao, so it hasn't been touched for a LONG time, probably since march. i plan to jump straight back into writing when episode 3 is all done!

like before, ep 3 won't be released until ep 4 has a first draft and i'm happy with the shape and direction. so it will be some time before i am able to release new content. but - we ball!

thank you for reading this far and i hope you enjoy the new and improved demo! happy reading! - becky :^)

[siriuslygay1981]

Word count- 1066

TW- choking, talk of k!ling, Sorta NSFW , obsessed JEGULUS! Based off of this post

A/N this may have gone out of my hands....it went in a direction I didn't intend TBH... But I still like it very much! Thank you SM @tenakiie for letting me do a microfic for it! I've been trying to find inspo for a writing thing and this was perfect! The art is absolutely lovely :))

Read below the cut!

Regulus let's his hands travel up James's chest, marveling at the way James arches up into his touch. The small gasp that leaves his lips makes regulus groan. He lets out a shaky breath, his chest feels tight with overwhelming emotion.

They had been laying there for a while now, lips touching hands roaming. The two talked and talked and then just laid beside the other.

But as Regulus laid there, thinking of their relationship and how James made him feel, he was angry he was overfilling with love and he couldn't get the thought that he wanted to hurt James. Just a little. Just a small bit of pain. How else could he get this pressure off of his chest but to pinch his arm, bite his shoulder? Maybe...wrap his hands around his neck and squeeze...just for a moment.

Which unsurprisingly is what Regulus ends up doing. He straddles James and loosely wraps his hands around his neck. He frowns down at James who just smiles up at him, eyes trusting and so so soft. It makes the itch harder to resist, he clenches his teeth.

"I want to kill you." He says it softly, says it without even realizing. It's too late to take back now, it's in the air and he's sure James heard it. They're too close to not have.

James rests his hands on Regulus' thighs, squeezes softly before replying

"I'm yours." He says softly "I'm all yours."

His eyes are soft, crinkled at the side, his smile dopey and warm. One hand slides up to his hip and he rubs his thumb comfortingly. Regulus tightens his hands slightly in response and leans down so they're face to face, mere inches apart, but James doesn't even flinch, just traces his eyes across Regulus' face.

"You could...if you wanted to." James whispers, his voice slightly hoarse because of the pale hands still putting pressure on his throat

Regulus tilts his head, he keeps eye contact with James and scoots forward before knocking their foreheads together

"Your friends would kill me if I did..." He says as if he would actually go through with it.

"No." James says his eyes suddenly dark

"I wouldn't let them."

Regulus almost laughs, he tightens his grip again, his thumbs pushing slightly against his Adams apple

"You wouldn't be there to stop them though..." He whispers

Biting his lip he watches James's face twitch, he's angry. Regulus licks his lips and sighs. He can feel James swallow beneath his fingertips, he watches closely as James struggles to speak for a moment.

"You won't be harmed....even if I have to come back from the fucking dead."

Regulus gasps and loosens his hold. Looking down at James, James watches him closely, he rubs a soothing hand up Regulus' back

"No one will touch you.." He says, his voice is thick and scratchy.

Regulus leans closer and tilts his head to the right, his eyes half lidded. Their noses touch, he can feel James's hot breath against his mouth.

"What about you?" He asks huskily

James grips regulus tightly for a moment, conflict briefly flashing in his eyes

"Not even me, not if you don't want me to." He says firmly

Regulus brushes his thumb against James's throat again

"And if I told you right now not to touch me?" He asks, curious to his answer

James let's his hands fall to the side, his breathing heavy and a frown on his face

"Then I won't."

Regulus swallows hard, his eyelashes fluttering

"if I said you never could again?" His voice is low and raspy

James heaves in breath after breath below him, trying to regain some air he must've lost

"If that's what you want love....that's what you'll have."

Regulus watches James' Adams apple bob up and down for a moment he rests his thumb there and almost grins when James stops breathing, stops moving all together.

"I'm going to kiss you now.." Regulus murmurs against James's lips.

He watches the way James's eyes dilate, he groans in the back of his throat.

"God please do-" he whimpers

Regulus leans down and kisses James, his unoccupied hand going to his messy hair and tugging lightly. James gasps and arches up a bit. Regulus grins against his lips and bites James's bottom lip before pulling back slightly.

He lets go and squeezes his hand around James's neck when he sees his bottom lip plump. James makes a small choking sound which makes Regulus immediately loosen his grip, afraid he might've hurt him

James shakes his head lightly, his hand jumping to Regulus' wrist, he pauses before their skin can touch, let's his hand hover for a moment before dropping it

"No...it's ok." He murmurs, his dark eyes staring up at regulus

Regulus tilts his head back and groans, he squeezes his thighs against James's side and let's his head fall back down

"You can touch me James" he whispers, his eyes still closed

James grips the back of Regulus' neck and pulls him down so they're chest to chest again

"I wouldn't be able to live without you. If you told me to never touch you, I wouldn't lay a finger on you baby. Just as long as I can see you, be near you...fuck just hearing your voice would be fine-"

He sucks a breath in, one hand gripping Regulus' hip

"I might not survive it...but if that's what you want...I'd cut my hands off to keep that promise."

Their lips brush against one another, regulus let's out a sigh before kissing James with all the overwhelming, all consuming feelings inside of him. James responds in kind, his hands gripping regulus and pulling him closer, closer,closer as if to weld them together. To have their body stuck together irreversibly.

Neither would mind, some days Regulus is sure he'd let James consume him entirely, pretending as if he hadn't already. They were both willing to do whatever the other wanted, willing to follow one another to the ends of the universe. Destined to intertwine and connect, to never be separated. It would be unkind, would be cruel to rip regulus away from James, to take away the very air he breathes. He would not survive it, Regulus would not live in a world where James wasn't his and vice versa.

[lucawrites11]

navigation post

hi, you can call me luca. i'm 20, use they/them pronouns and i am the anonymous writing the woso bits and bobs series on ao3

my asks are always open, please send me your questions, thoughts, headcanons, prompts, requests etc. (i do see them all but i will only reply to prompts/requests when i write them)

i am a lifelong newcastle united fan and currently just follow a load of woso teams while i wait for them to get out of the third tier of english football this includes but is not limited to arsenal, barcelona and man city and never includes chelsea for personal reasons. i love football tactics and stuff as well and always love to talk about it :))

(i just want to add that this is my secondary blog so if you don't see me interacting with posts and other blogs - it's because i can't)

masterlist:

leah williamson/alessia russo

make this the best dream i've ever known

complete: seven chapters

alessia invites leah over after united play arsenal for lasagne

[a hint of slow burn, first kiss, euros 2022]

i can't keep up

complete: one shot

alessia misses the uwcl qualifying penalty and breaks down

[hurt/comfort, established relationship]

maybe i should have called you first (but i was dying to get to you)

complete: six chapters

five times leah and alessia drive three hours to see each other and one time they don't need to anymore

[5+1, fluff, established relationship, acls]

you said it looked better on me than it did you

complete: one shot

leah steals alessia's clothes, alessia gets her revenge

[fluff, sharing clothes, wwc 2023]

tears are the words the heart can't say

complete: one shot

leah does her acl playing her girlfriend's team

[hurt/comfort, major character injury]

for better, for worse

complete: one shot

leah deals with endometriosis after a concussion

[hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship]

is forever enough? (the series)

if i know what love is, it's because of you

complete: one shot

prequel: leah and alessia's chaotic proposals (can be read as a standalone)

[marriage proposals, idiots in love]

how long do you wanna be loved? (is forever enough?)

complete: twenty-nine chapters

leah and alessia's journey to expanding their little family

[ivf, pregnancy, SO MUCH FLUFF, marriage]

never knew the best was yet to come

incomplete: chapter two of thirteen

emilia russo-williamson is here, follow the first thirteen months of her life

[kid!fic, fluff, marriage]

jenni hermoso/alexia putellas

it's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday

complete: three chapters

jenni and alexia have been broken up for over a year and are living in different countries but then they have the world cup

[angst with a happy ending, fluff, suggestive, slow burn (ish)]

mapi leon/ingrid engen

i wouldn't know where to start

complete: one shot

ingrid has just opened her own tattoo studio in barcelona. mapi goes along to check it out and develops a crush

[fluff, getting together, tattoo artist au]

hei!

incomplete: chapter five of six

mapi has a crush on the pretty new midfielder on the team and ingrid has a pretty big secret

[fluff, angst with a happy ending, kid!fic, sick!fic, coffee]

ellie carpenter/daniëlle van de donk

you'll always be my favorite new year's kiss

complete: one shot

ellie and daan get together in new year's eve

[age gap relationship, first kiss]

you know what the best part of today was? i got the chance to fall in love with you all over again

one shot collection

ellie meets daan's daughter as her girlfriend after dating for almost a year

[fluff, kid!fic]

evie bronze

the missing pieces (of our souls)

one shot collection

lucy's daughter, evie bronze, is iconic in the women's football world

[lucy/ona, past lucy/keira, keira/laura, fluff, angst with a happy ending]

[withahappyrefrain]

I wish you would write a fic where … Venus is in the Navy and there’s where she and Jake meet each other (she doesn’t need to be a pilot but I’m dying to see how it would be if she were a fellow Navy personnel)

k bye love you

Fe the way this has been marinating in my brain! This an amazing idea I love it!

"This is so fucking stupid," Jake muttered as his squad gathered together. It was only the fourth time he had complained about it today, but fourth time’s the charm, right? 

Even if he was silent (rare but possible), the annoyance practically radiated off of him. Gone was that signature smirk and in its place his lips were drawn in a thin line, eyes narrowed as he kept his arms firmly crossed over his broad chest. 

"You realize that this has nothing to do with whether they think we're good or not, right?" Natasha asked, rolling her eyes. 

"And see, that's where you're wrong because it absolutely does. If they thought we were good enough, they wouldn't think we needed training from them," Jake explained, his voice coated in a vexing tone. 

"It's their whole job, you do realize that? Right?" Reuben asked, shaking his head. The whole squad had gathered outside the doors, wanting to come in together before the first meeting. What they didn’t think about was that it meant being forced to hear Jake. 

Most of the squad was fine with the Star Warriors coming in to help with training. Some were even excited. 

And then there was Jake. 

Jake who could only shake his head as he clenched his fists and rolled his eyes, "I don't care whether it's their job or not. It's the fact they think we seriously need training that's insulting."

"Well, I'm excited to meet them!" Bob piped in, hoping to break the tension, "I've heard great things about the Star Warriors."

"Yeah, really great things," Bradley said a bit too gleefully, ignoring the death glare from Jake, "Did you know on the Star Warriors is Venom, the only other pilot-"

"Knock it off Bradshaw,” Jake snapped, his tone sharp. 

"of this generation that has an airstrike kill? Therefore, breaking our beloved Bagman's record and making him eternally jealous?"

"I am not jealous!" Jake snapped, "Besides I read the report. It was all pure luck, not much skill, if any."

Sure, it hurt a little, truly a miniscule amount, when Jake learned he was no longer the only one who had achieved such a rare accomplishment. But after reading the report, he knew he was still the better pilot.

No jealousy at all. That would be ridiculous to hold against a person he’s never met, never even seen before. 

"So you're jealous," Phoenix smirked, "Well I'm excited because it has the highest number of women in a Navy squad and frankly this place needs more women.”

"If you tell anyone I said this, I'll deny it. But," Bradley's voice dropped to a whisper, "Mav had a fling with the Captain of the squad back in the day."

Everyone gasped, well, everyone except Jake.

"There's no way Mav was able to pull Penny Benjamin!" Natasha whispered, "Dude, I had her picture on my wall when I was a kid!"

It was purely because Captain Penny Benjamin was an idol for all girls who wanted to join the Navy. Being one of the first female pilots to fly in a combat mission will do that. Nothing to do with her looks. 

Maybe a little. 

“It was before she enlisted. But yeah, that's why he told us to all be on our best behavior,” Bradley explained, reveling in the fact he could contribute to the hot gossip for once.  

Mickey snorted, “He has been looking like he's about to shit his pants at any moment.” 

Javy looked over his shoulder just in case the short instructor was looming by, “You think he still wants her?”

“Considering he’s been trying to follow Cyclone’s orders for the last couple days? I’d say so,” Bradley smirked. 

“We should get in there before they take the front tables,” Jake said, crossing his arms. That,  combined with the small pout on his face made Jake resemble a child that had been told there was no more cake. 

At least that’s how Bob saw it. Not that he would say it out loud (yet). 

As the squad went inside, they stopped when they noticed the front four tables had a piece of paper on them, each saying ‘RESERVED’ in bold letters. 

“He reserved the front tables for them?” Jake whispered, not even bothering to hide the disgust in his voice. 

“Oh, he wants her bad,” Mickey chuckled as he took a seat next to Reuben. 

“You think?” Bob muttered as he got out his paper and pad. He didn’t mind the seating change because it gave him a better chance to observe. An act of subtlety that Jake would probably never learn. 

“Careful Seresin, there’s steam coming out of your ears,” Bradley whispered as he sat down at the table across from Jake and Javy. 

“It’s just some tables, don’t worry,” Javy assured his best friend, internally praying that Jake would be able to keep his cool for once. Today, of all days, was not the time nor place for Jake to lose his temper, or worse, push others to do so. 

Jake sneered, ignoring Bradley’s comment as he got out his notebook. Checking his watch, he already felt better- this supposedly ‘amazing’ squad was five minutes late. 

Maverick said something about issues with parking. 

“Typical,” Jake muttered. This supposedly ‘elite’ squad couldn’t figure out parking?

“Maybe they could have parked if your car didn't take up three spaces,” Bradley remarked, as if he could read Jake’s mind.

“My car is not that big,” Jake defended. Some called his Jeep Wrangler an ‘eyesore’. Jake didn’t think his colleagues had any right to judge his car, Bradshaw in particular. 

Natasha rolled her eyes, “Your parking is heinous. How many spots did you take up today, Seresin?”

“One!” Jake rolled his eyes, “And a half.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

The sound of the door opening saved Jake from further scrutiny. There in the doorway stood Penny Benjamin and her supposedly elite crew. He saw the captain of his squad straighten up, clearly hoping to add a few inches to his height. 

There were many women, more than one usually sees in a Navy squadron. That alone was enough to turn one’s head. 

But one  in particular stood out to Jake. 

She was right behind Penny, standing tall as she walked into the room. She was striking with her amber eyes and dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. There was an air of confidence about her; she had no trouble standing tall in the front of a room full of strangers. 

“Thank you for your patience. My squad and I are honored that we get to work with you,” Penny Benjamin smiled as she addressed the group, “We've heard many great things about this squad.” 

“And we've heard many wonderful things about yours,” Maverick said. Jake fought the urge to roll his eyes, not wanting to stop looking at this  mystery girl. Her plush lips had formed into a tight smile as her eyes continued to scan the room. The dark green of her flight suit was striking against her sun kissed skin. 

When they landed on Jake, he was ready with a bold wink and a dazzling smile. Laying on the Texan charm, as he always did. 

She rolled her eyes, whispering something to the blonde haired woman next to her. 

Huh. That usually did the trick. 

Jake wasn’t nervous. He liked that she remained strong. It spoke volumes of her focus. 

Oh fuck, she smiled. 

Whatever the woman next to her whispered, it made his dream girl’s eyes light up. Her cheeks rounded as a grin overtook her face. It was one, if not the, most beautiful sight Jake had ever seen. And he had seen sunsets and sunrises all over the globe. 

Shit, he was nervous. He shifted in his seat, looking down at his boots. His face felt warm, was he blushing? She didn’t even smile at him and he was blushing. 

Fuck. 

“I’ll let my team introduce themselves. This way we can all be some sort of name basis, be it callsigns or our government names,” Penny explained, earning a chuckle from Pete that Jake would normally gag at. Instead, he remained poised, eyes remaining on the beautiful woman that was standing next to Penny.  

The first woman to step forward had long blonde hair swept into a ponytail and eyes bluer than the sky. She was striking and normally what Jake would go for. But today was proving to be different. 

“Lieutenant Camellia Garcia. Callsign Cielo,” She said with a sweet smile, her eyes remaining on Mickey. 

He returned the smile, ignoring the playful nudge Reuben was giving him. 

“Wait, is that your wife?!” Javy blurted out, earning a giggle from Penny’s squad, along with Natasha, Bob, and Reuben. It was known Mickey’s wife was also in the military, though he didn’t make her area widely known. 

“No, they just have the same last name for funsies,” Natasha commented, forcing Bob to stifle a laugh. Bradley continued to look bewildered (not that Nora minded). 

“Yes, we do have a pair of lovebirds together. But after Penny and I discussed it extensively, we realized it shouldn’t be a problem,” Pete explained. 

Camellia turned her head to face the smaller Captain, “It was never a problem Captain.” 

“That’s my Cielo,” Mickey muttered under his breath, making zero attempts to hide how pleased he was. 

A woman with military issued glasses was next to step forward. Her doe eyes had been scanning the room while Penny spoke, always alert.  “Lieutenant Nora Anderson, weapon systems officer. Callsign Birdie.”

Bradley’s ears perked up upon hearing her callsign. Immediately, he straightened up, leaning forward as his eyes remained intensely on her. He might as well have cartoon hearts in his eyes. 

Birdie definitely noticed, looking away immediately after locking eyes with the mustached pilot, a red flush overtaking her face.  

Amateurs, Jake thought. After that brief moment, he regained his composure, arms crossed as he moved his toothpick around with his mouth. You never make it obvious. 

He was very obvious. 

After Birdie, a woman with curly hair stepped forward. With her shining hazel eyes and bright smile, the only word that could best describe her was adorable. 

“Lieutenant Maeve Castellanos. Callsign Athena.” 

Great, now Bob was staring. Fucking Bob, Baby on Board, of all people, with his cheeks bright red and blue eyes having turned into the living embodiment of hearts. 

They were all falling one by one. Soon Jake would be the only one standing strong. He could only shake his head at his coworkers before diverting his attention back to the Goddess that was next to Penny. 

Finally, she stepped up. She smiled confidently as her eyes scanned the room before speaking in a self assured tone, “Lieutenant Commander Danica Morales. Callsign Venom.”

Oh. 

As Penny’s crew moved to sit down, Jake’s coworkers turned to him, expecting an annoyed look plastered on his face. 

Instead, his eyes seemed to be…shining? Rather than a scowl, his lips had formed into what could best be described as Jake’s signature ‘shit eating grin’. 

“Huh.” Was all he let out. It wasn’t one of confusion, if anything it reeked of satisfaction, which was odd considering how irritated he was 15 minutes ago. 

“Do you have something you’d like to add, Lieutenant Seresin?” Penny asked, much to everyone’s dismay- Pete’s particularly. 

Jake straightened up, leaning forward over the table, resembling someone who was about to sweet talk a bartender rather than a Captain. 

“I’m just honored to be working with you all, particularly Lieutenant Commander Morales. You know, it’s not every day the best meets the best.” 

If looks could kill, Jake would already be dead. Not just from Danica, but from the eyebrow raises and baffled looks from the rest of his squad.  If it bothered Jake, hell, if he even noticed, he wasn’t letting on. He simply smirked, eyes remaining on who he once described as his rival. 

“However, I do have to say something,” He began. 

“Please don’t,” Bob muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose to prepare himself for whatever bullshit was about to flow out of his coworker’s mouth. 

“They made a mistake with your call sign. Venom doesn’t suit you,” he explained as if it was obvious. 

Maeve scoffed, “Clearly you’ve never heard her over comms.”  

Bob now owed Nat ten bucks after claiming there wasn’t a girl on Penny’s squad for him. 

Jake ignored the comment, continuing to talk much to everyone’s dismay, “It should have been Venus. After your beauty.” 

The room was so silent, you could hear a pin drop. 

Danica tilted her head to the side in an attempt to comprehend Jake’s words. Whereas the 45 degree angle tilt seemed to help her cat, Rugelach, understand things, it did not when it came to understanding Jake fucking Seresin. 

“Is he….” Nora turned to Maeve, absolutely bewildered, “....on something?”

Maeve rolled her eyes, “Unfortunately no, he had to pass a drug test to be here.”

Nora’s eyes widened, “So he’s….he just said that sober?”

“Welcome to the club, it doesn’t get better,” Bob muttered. Maeve gave him an apologetic smile, making the bespectacled WOS blush, eliciting an amused smirk from Natasha. The moment was a great reprieve from the fuckery that was their blonde teammate. 

Bradley leaned over, “If you want Nora, I can give you the rundown on Seresin after this briefing.” He could barely hide his excitement as a blushing Nora timidly nodded her head. If Danica hadn't been twitching over Jake's words, she would have given her WSO a knowing wink and nudge. 

Camellia turned to her husband in disbelief, “Does he do this often?”

Mickey shook his head, “This is new for all of us Cielo.” His words brought little comfort. 

Penny turned to Pete, lips drawn in a thin line as she contemplated filing a sexual harassment charge. If looks could kill, Jake would have died by Pete Mitchell if Danica hadn’t already killed him with her glare. 

“You….” Danica started, closing her eyes for a brief moment to prepare herself, “You’re honored to work with me?”

Jake smiled, showing off his bright veneers teeth, “Of course. How could I not be?” 

“Even though my achievement was just, in your words, pure luck?” 

The echo of his past words caused the smile to drop from Jake’s face, his brow knitting together in confusion, “I’m sorry darlin’, I don’t understand-”

“That’s what you’ve been telling everyone. That it was all pure luck, no skill,” her lips curled into a confident smirk, eyes narrowing as she continued to stare at Jake, “Word gets around Lieutenant Seresin, especially with a mouth as big as yours.”

With that, she simply turned around, ignoring the once cocky pilot who now had a gob-smacked look on his face. 

As well as a raging erection, but she didn’t need to know that. 

Jake couldn’t tell you what the rest of the briefing was about. What he did know was that Danica Seresin had a beautiful ring to it. 

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

@gretagerwigsmuse @blue-aconite @princessphilly @mxgyver @wildbornsiren @perfectprettypisces @percyjackson1d @cinderellasmissingshoes @imdreaminghere @idontcare-11 @rae-gar-targaryen @satans-firstborn @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 14 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley's notebook reads like poetry to your soul, and some inexplicable part of you feels like it's healing. He takes the time to give you the care and attention you need, and you do the same for him. After a weekend where you let yourself live in a cozy bubble with him, work on Monday jarred you back to reality.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, smut

Length: 6000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

Bradley was home. He'd been craving this comfort since he left, but the uncertainty of how you and he would react when you saw each other had been adding to his anxiety after the mission. He wanted to tell you all about it, but it just didn't seem as important as being near you. 

He knew you had dinner ready to reheat, and he wanted to sit with you snuggled up on his lap and share a plate of food. But first he carried you from the laundry room, both of you in your underwear, and into the bedroom with Tramp in hot pursuit. "I think both of you missed me," Bradley whispered, kissing your cheek when he set you down. 

"We did," you promised, and he dropped down to the floor to play with the dog for a few minutes. There was no way Tramp would calm down until he'd been given a little bit of attention. And then Bradley could focus on you for the rest of the night. For the rest of the weekend. Forever.

"Roo?" you asked quietly, and Bradley looked up at you as you showed him the notebook. "What is this?"

You must have taken it out of his duffle bag as you were unpacking his dirty clothes for him. When he looked up into your eyes, they looked guarded. You were apprehensive. He hated that he ever made you feel like you couldn't be exactly who you were around him. And while he never meant to share those words with you or anyone else, he found that the idea of you reading them didn't feel wrong to him. 

He was on his feet right away. "You can look at it, Sweetheart. It's just some things I wrote down while I was away. Bob kind of got me hooked on keeping a journal."

You skimmed through the pages again before you met his eyes. "The whole notebook is almost filled," you said. "And you wrote my name in here a lot."

Bradley cupped your cheeks in his hands and kissed you softly. "That's because you're on my mind more than anything else." He watched you smile, and then he added, "It's a notebook about you. About us. About how I'm going to be exactly what you need."

He kissed your forehead as you whispered, "Will you let me read it?"

Very gently, he took it from your hand and set it down on the bed. "Yes. But I need to eat dinner first. I'm starving. You know carrier food tastes like cardboard, and I've been dreaming about you sitting on my lap at our table."

When you nodded and took him by the hand, Bradley stuck to you as you led him into the kitchen and over to the refrigerator. He reached down one plate and didn't leave your side as you heated up the food. When you spun in his arms to face him, he could feel the slightly raised goosebumps on your arms; neither of you actually put any additional clothing on when you were in the bedroom. 

"You want me to go grab you one of my shirts or something?" he asked, rubbing his big hands along your arms. 

"I thought you were going to keep me warm. Are you all talk now?" Your raised eyebrow was playful, but it was time for Bradley to get serious about what was going on here. 

"Talk and action, Baby Girl. When you want me to keep you warm, I'll keep you warm. And you can read my notebook. And then we can spend the weekend working on us."

You relaxed into his touch as he soothed your goosebumps away with his hands, and soon you were perched on his lap at the dining room table. One bite of the Marry Me Rooster, and Bradley just knew he was going to gain five pounds this weekend. It was that fucking good. And it felt incredible to have you with him. He even tossed a small piece of chicken to Tramp. 

"So Jake and Cat?" he asked, kissing your bare shoulder as you took a bite of dinner. "Sounds like I missed a lot."

"Oh, you did, Roo." Then you filled him in on everything you could think of. He had to laugh at the idea of Hondo at his house, because all Bradley could imagine was the man yelling at him to do push ups in his own living room. When you mentioned Jeremiah, Bradley didn't feel as desperate as maybe he would have a few months ago. It would be nice, but he didn't need it. He needed you. 

"And you're feeling good?" he asked, pulling you a little closer as you ate the last bite of food. "You look beautiful."

"Yeah," you replied, snuggling up against his chest and shoulder, tracing his scars and tattoo with your fingers. "I feel good. I told Dr. Genevieve that I want to fix this, not throw it away. There's too much between us that's perfect."

And that was it. Bradley wasn't perfect. Neither were you, but you were much closer than he was. But somehow when the two of you mixed together, it worked beautifully until he had lost sight of making sure you were happy and taken care of. 

"Perfect," he agreed softly. "I want to be with you more than I want anything else. I need you at this point. When I realized how much I hurt you after your promotion banquet and before I left on deployment, it felt like I'd never be able to breathe correctly again." He tilted your chin up so you were looking at him as your warm hand grazed his paper airplane tattoo. "You're my wife, and you deserve my respect. And I want to take care of you. And maybe we'll have a kid someday. And maybe not. But the stress isn't what we need, Sweetheart. I'm sorry."

You scrambled around in his lap so your arms were wrapped tight around his neck. Bradley had missed this feeling. And if he was being honest, it was longer ago than the start of his two month deployment that he felt this good. But now you were crying. 

"I'm sorry I let myself hurt so much inside before I told someone about it," you sobbed. 

He squeezed you tighter until he could feel your heartbeat against his chest. "Don't apologize for that. Please. I know you're strong. I know you want to be strong. I know you were focused on getting pregnant. But we don't need that. Like I said before, I'd be lucky to get to spend the rest of my life with you. Just you. And I'll make sure you know it."

Your voice broke as you cried, and Bradley just kept holding you. He had no idea how much time passed, but eventually your breathing evened out and your heart rate slowed, and he found himself wiping tears from his own eyes. You kissed his ear and whispered, "You're enough for me, too."

And that sounded beautiful to him.

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

When you finally climbed off of Bradley's lap, you missed the warmth of his body immediately, and he looked like he felt the same way. He jumped up, and when you reached for the dirty dish, he took your hand in his instead. "I'll clean up if you want to take a bath," he whispered. 

You tugged him closer, and he abandoned the table, soft brown eyes on yours. "Come with me?"

"Yes," he responded immediately. 

Both of you were already stripped down to your underwear, and you undressed completely as Bradley started to fill the tub. Then he stripped out of his boxer briefs and got two fluffy, yellow towels ready for when you were done. You tested the water with your toes, and then he held your hand as you climbed in. You realized you hadn't taken a single bath while he had been away. You preferred taking them with him.

"I'll be right back," he told you with a quick kiss to your forehead. And you tried to settle back against the tub, but the edge was cold against your shoulders. And the overhead light was too bright. And he was taking too long. 

But when he returned with his phone and an opened bottle of the pink champagne you had tucked away in the back of the refrigerator, you immediately felt better. His phone was softly playing a song from the ten hour long playlist he made for you when he was deployed while you were dating, and he propped it up near the towels as he handed you the bottle. Then he turned off the light, leaving only the soft orange glow from the bedroom filtering in through the door. 

"Roo," you whispered, and then he was there, easing himself into the water. With a soft grunt, he settled against the tub and pulled you close so your back rested against his chest. "You opened champagne?"

"Yeah. Being home is something to celebrate." His arms snaked around your waist and his voice was deep, chest rumbling when he spoke. And you took a sip of it. And your senses were overwhelmed. There were so many things happening at once that you loved and hadn't let yourself enjoy for such a long time. 

His voice, the bubbles on your tongue, a song you loved, the scent of your bubble bath. You felt like you'd deprived yourself for an age. "I love this," you whispered before taking another sip, and then Bradley's mustache was on your neck. 

Your eyes fluttered closed as you reached back with the bottle, offering it to him. "Nah, you have some more," he replied. "My hands are full." His arms were wrapped around your middle like he was trying to remember the exact feel of you. His knees were bent, and your body was pressed intimately to his, but all he did was kiss your neck and hold you. He sang along softly to whichever song was playing, eventually accepting the bottle of champagne when you offered it again and taking a sip. 

"I hope you don't deploy again for a long time," you whispered when you let him finish off the bottle. "Because I want to do this with you every night. Well, minus the expensive champagne."

Bradley chuckled against the curve of your neck as he adjusted himself in the tub. The slosh of water across your shoulders had you shivering as the water had cooled. "You want expensive champagne every day? I'll buy it by the case."

"I just want you."

"I'm yours." His lips were pressed to your spine. "We'll do this all the time."

A few minutes later,  you reluctantly climbed out of the tub as you shivered, and you wrapped yourself up in one of the fluffy towels. Bradley headed back into the bedroom after he brushed his teeth and kissed your cheek. As you brushed yours and removed your contacts, you thought perhaps calling it an early night was just what you needed. 

When you joined him in the bedroom, Bradley was dressed in clean underwear, and he had his worn UVA shirt on your pillow waiting for you. You slipped it on and adjusted your glasses as he pulled the covers back for you. And that's when you noticed the notebook on his nightstand. 

"You can read what you want to," he said, reaching for it and handing it over. "I'm not trying to hide anything from you. But some of this was hard for me to write. So keep that in mind."

"Okay," you whispered, opening it to the first page which you had skimmed earlier, as he gathered you against his side. And you sat there with him, leaning against the headboard as his warm hand kept you anchored as you read silently.

Baby Girl, when I think about you, I think about the rest of my life spread out in front of me. And it's not exactly like a map, because I don't know where we are going or where we will end up. But I feel safe when I'm with you. Even though so much is unknown. 

I never thought I could be enough for someone else. Enough that they would want me around or want to get to know me. I didn't know I could be important enough to be in a long relationship with someone or get married. And it makes me ache whenever your self doubt is something that I caused, because you do the opposite for me. You make me feel like I'm good enough for you. You gave me a fucking purpose. You're the reason I dropped every other bad habit I had in exchange for just the hope that you might look at me. 

"Oh, Roo," you gasped, tears rapidly filling your eyes as you dropped the notebook onto his abs and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

"You didn't even make it to the end of the first page without crying," he whispered as your tears wet his cheek. "Want me to put it away?"

"No," you said, voice shaking. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever read."

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

Once Bradley was able to wipe away most of your tears with his thumbs, your eyes were bright and focused on him. "Will you read it to me?" you asked so softly that he probably wouldn't have been able to hear you except that your lips were brushing his. He nodded gently and gathered you against his side again. When he picked up the notebook, he felt himself flushing from embarrassment. 

It was so personal. It was one thing when you were reading it to yourself, but hearing himself say the words that he had written? Out loud? He gently cleared his throat and took a deep breath, picking up where you left off. As soon as he spoke, your arm tightened across his chest.

"And then you did look at me. Like I was someone who was worth your time. And you spoke to me like my words could be important to you. And you touched me like you'd be careful with me. And you kissed me like you didn't want it to stop. And then I started to feel different, like maybe I appreciated myself a little bit more. 

I wanted to kiss you that first night at the Hard Deck after I bumped your stool. I wanted to do a lot more than that. Sometimes I wonder what you would have done if I had tried it. I couldn't stop thinking about you after that. For days, weeks. Fuck, I still think about that night. I still can't stop thinking about you. If I could just kiss you right now and feel the weight of your hands on my body, then I would be fine. My problems would feel manageable, because I would be with you. 

You deserve to have a husband who takes the pressure off of you, not one who adds more. And if you'll just give me one more chance to show that I understand that, I won't waste your time.

You've always been different. You've always been what I wanted whether I deserve you or not."

He stopped at the end of the first page and set the notebook aside. That was enough for one night. He was exhausted, and you were crying again. And he wasn't exactly sure if they were good tears or the worrying kind. 

"Baby Girl, are you alright?" he asked, rubbing his hand along your back as you nodded into his neck.

"Yeah," you whispered, sniffing as you tried to speak. "I just never heard you talk about me so.... matter of factly."

Bradley laughed softly. "That's because the notebook was really supposed to be for me."

"I like it too much," you said, rubbing your forehead against his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he promised as you snuggled in for the night. He pulled the blanket up higher over both of you, and before he actually turned the light out, he picked up the notebook one more time. "Close your eyes. There's one more page I want to read to you right now. But you have to promise you'll go to sleep right afterwards, because I'm already a little embarrassed just thinking about it."

"Okay."

Bradley licked his lips as he located the correct page in the middle of the notebook and scanned it before he started reading very softly. 

"My life feels like a dream. Like an actual goddamn dream. The kind I started to have shortly after my mom died. The ones where she was there, and I could feel her touching my hair and holding my hand. I was missing that kind of touch that kept me grounded, because I felt so out of control in my own skin too much of the time. 

I didn't think I was starving for attention or affection. The surface kind wasn't hard to come by. I just didn't know there could be more. And then I met my wife, and maybe I always knew she was going to be my wife someday. The way I stuttered and couldn't walk correctly when she looked at me. The way her smile and the curve of her cheek made me think about touching her. The way her voice filled my mind when I was alone. Fuck. I didn't know. I had no idea. I was absolutely starving for this kind of affection."

You were asleep, your breathing even and calm. And Bradley felt like he could sleep now, too. Once the light was turned off, he very carefully took your hand and laced his fingers with yours. "Roo," you murmured in your sleep, wrapping your leg around his a little tighter. 

"I love you." He kissed your knuckles and your rings, and then he dozed off, too.

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

Bradley was beautiful in the morning light. His cheeks were a little rosy from sleep, and his lips were gently parted, face turned toward you. When you stroked his mustache gently with your thumb, a soft smile appeared on his lips. Something had helped heal part of you overnight. Maybe it was the notebook. Or the bath. Or just having him with you after weeks of feeling so uncertain. But you felt lighter. You had slept so soundly. 

When you tried to roll away and let him sleep longer, his arm tightened around you like a vice, and you squeaked. "Stay with me," he rasped. That voice went right through you and made your body stand at attention. Your nipples were tight peaks, and you had to squeeze your thighs around his left leg where your bare core was rubbing him like you had no control of yourself. 

You whimpered. You couldn't help it. He was looking up at you, his brown eyes wide and suddenly alert. "Sorry," you gasped, your thighs tightening around him again. You ducked your head in embarrassment, but Bradley took your hand in his and kissed your palm before sliding it down his warm body underneath the blanket. He leaned up to kiss your lips as your fingers skimmed along the front of his boxer briefs. He was hard, and now you had no idea why you were apologizing to him. You dipped your hand inside the elastic and whispered, "I want you," as you wrapped your fingers around his heavy erection. 

Wordlessly, he rolled you onto your back, keeping his left thigh wedged in place where you were wet now. He kissed your lips gently, tucking his fingers behind your neck and letting them tangle with your necklace chain. "I need you," he swore. "Need."

You nodded your head slowly and arched your back so he could push the soft tee shirt up a little higher. You knew how good it could be with him, and it had been so long since he'd been this tender. He kept that one big hand at the back of your neck while the other roamed your body, and he took the time to touch you everywhere. Sometimes his lips were on yours. Sometimes he was just watching your face as you made soft noises just for him. 

When his gaze traveled down your belly, you felt him trace your dainty, single line rooster tattoo with the tip of one finger. He traced it over and over again, the sensation just on the verge of being ticklish. But all he was doing was stoking your desire for him. He leaned down and kissed you just below your belly button. "We belong together," he whispered, worshipping your belly and hips with his mouth. "And I want to hear you say it."

You took a ragged breath as he kissed your thigh and dragged his mustache along your pussy. When you bucked off the bed for him, he grunted and kissed his way up until he was nudging the shirt over your breasts, exposing your taut nipples. 

"We belong together, Bradley," you moaned as his lips wrapped around your nipple. His fingertips felt rough on your other breast, but his touch was still tender. And you didn't care that you were rubbing your core along his thigh, nudging his length over and over again. Because he was grunting your name and licking long stripes across your breasts. 

When he looked up at you with the warmest eyes, you took his face gently in your hands, and guided him to your lips for a kiss. "Please," you whispered. "Oh, Roo. Please forgive me for the last time we had sex. I should have never treated you or us like an obligation."

His lips mashed against yours with a need that took your breath away. He wasn't an obligation. Your husband was as urgent and crucial as your own heartbeat. He was a necessity. He was something you needed to cherish. "I love you. I love you." 

"I'll never stop," he promised as you reached down, bumping his cheek with your nose, and eased the waistband of his underwear down. When you nodded, he didn't hesitate. Bradley guided himself inside you, stretching you and filling you. The slow, intentional roll of his hips left you smiling as you raked your fingers through his hair. This felt the way it used to. And Bradley was smiling, too. Kiss after incredible kiss. And there was no rush. No expectations. Just sweet morning sex with your husband after eight weeks apart. 

And he knew what to do, because he knew every inch of your body and every noise you made. He made you cum as you ground up against him, your fingers tight in his hair. "Oh god!" you whined, that gorgeous clenching feeling rocking through your core. His thrusts grew shallow as he tipped his head to hold eye contact with you as he came. 

He whispered a ragged, "I love you, Baby Girl," before he tucked his face against your neck while you held him. It was perfect. He gave you exactly what you needed like a wrapped gift you wanted to keep opening. 

"Can we... could we just be like this again?" you asked him after a moment. 

There was no hesitation to his response. "Yes."

You traced his scars with your fingers and kissed his forehead until you thought maybe he had fallen asleep with his cock still cradled inside your body. But he ran his hand along your arm and whispered, "I'm happy I'm home with you. I'll make your coffee." 

And two sweet kisses later, he gently withdrew himself and climbed out of bed. You watched him pull his boxer briefs back up, and then he smiled at you before Tramp followed him out of the room. You gave yourself a minute alone in bed. The passages in that notebook made you feel like Bradley had set you down on a pedestal. You felt like a priority again. And he seemed more than willing to listen to you and talk to you about the things that needed to change. Dr. Genevieve was going to be so pleased when you spoke with her again. 

When you walked into the kitchen in your tee shirt with Bradley's sticky cum on your thighs, you gasped. "What did you do?"

Your French press was broken on the counter, and Bradley was cleaning up spilled coffee with paper towels. "You weren't supposed to come out here yet," he said, wincing. "I got one good cup out of it before I broke it. Your breakfast is on the table." 

You walked into the dining room to find a plate with two pieces of burnt toast and jelly along with one mug of steaming coffee. You laughed and called him in with you. "Just let me make lunch, okay?" 

"Yeah," he agreed as you pushed him down onto the chair and climbed onto his lap. You fed him a bite of very crunchy toast as he added, "I ordered you a new French press already. Stainless steel this time. My hands were always a little too big for this one. And I can't even believe I like this fancy shit." He took a sip from the mug. "And sorry this toast is disgusting."

You couldn't stop laughing at how normal this felt. "Like I said, I'll make lunch." He let you finish the rest of the coffee as he traced a little pattern along your bare thigh. 

"What are we doing today?" he asked, looking at you with one raised eyebrow.

You just shrugged. "I mean... I didn't really have anything planned, because I was just so anxious for you to get home. But if you want to go out, I'll have to clean all your cum off my legs."

He just shook his head. "Let's stay in all weekend until we have to go to work on Monday morning. And you can just keep my cum anywhere you feel like."

You giggled as you stuffed the last bite of toast into his mouth, and it looked like he was going to cry. Then you just sat in the dining room with him and played with his hair for a while. Having no plans and nothing to do would hopefully give you both the opportunity to talk through some more things, but when you yawned, Bradley scooped you up and carried you back to the bedroom. 

"Let's take a nap," he whispered, like it was a secret you should keep from the rest of the world. And you supposed it was as he wrapped you up in his arms. You fell asleep with his hands tucked up inside your shirt and his lips on your neck. 

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

Bradley knew there was still a lot to talk about. Every time you asked him for more details about his deployment, he was hesitant to mention Slayer or Admiral Dean or anything that happened. This reunion weekend was everything he had hoped it could be. A lazy Saturday lunch out on the back patio. Sex in the shower. Cuddling on the couch. And Bradley reading to you from the notebook. 

Sometimes you cried, sometimes you held him. Once you gave him a blowjob while he was reading it to you. No, this weekend felt like you and he were getting back to basics, and he didn't want to ruin it with deployment talk. That shit didn't matter now that he was with you again. 

"Will you read another page to me?" you asked after lunch on Sunday, leading him back to the bedroom. "And then you can tell me more about your deployment?"

"Anything you want," he promised, pulling you down into bed with him. He found the bookmarked spot and opened up to that page, and as you kissed his cheek, he started to read.

And the words meant something important to you. He could tell. Even though it was hard to do, he kept working his way through the notebook. You already had some favorite passages that he dog-eared for you. He'd read the same thing to you as you fell asleep on Friday night and on Saturday night. And you kept telling him that you loved him. 

After he finished reading and set the notebook aside, he kissed the tears away from your cheeks and rolled you onto your back. You bit your lip as you looked up at him and said, "You know how you told me that you'd be okay with just us? Just me and you? If I never get pregnant?"

"Yes," he replied easily. While he knew this topic had been just below the surface, he honestly hadn't given it too much thought all weekend. He felt like he was back in honeymoon mode, just trying to make you smile. 

"You meant it?"

"Yes. I'd rather be happy here with you than have anything else any day of the week."

You seemed to accept his answer as you raked your fingers through his hair. "Roo, I... don't think I want to stop trying. But I don't want to have to focus all of my energy on it. I don't want to constantly think about my cycles and my fertility like before."

"I agree," he replied. "I want us to have sex when we want to, just like we've been doing all weekend. Because it's fun, and I love it. And I love you. And if you get pregnant, then we'll figure it out. And if you don't, then we'll still be perfect. Or we can talk to a doctor together at some point. Or not. We don't have to decide that yet. We can be just us, Sweetheart."

"Just us," you reiterated. 

"And Tramp."

"Well, obviously," you said, turning to look where he was lounging on his little bed. You were smiling when you looked back at Bradley. "Let me feed you leftovers for dinner."

"Thank you for not making me eat any more toast of my own making," he whispered.

You laughed. "I love you too much for that."

After another shared plate of dinner and dozens of kisses, Bradley coaxed you into the living room to watch a movie. He put on one of your favorites and smirked as you shimmied out of your shorts and underwear before joining him on the couch. "What are you doing?" he rasped, lounging along the length of the couch. He tucked his hands back behind his head and let you untie his gray sweatpants and pull them down to his knees. He had skipped underwear at your insistence, and now he was twitching for you.

You carefully straddled his waist, and Bradley's erection was tapping you eagerly on your ass. "Warming your cock?" you asked so innocently, leaning down to kiss his nose. "Is that okay?"

Bradley groaned and said, "Hell yes." He slowly slipped his cock into your pussy, and he closed his eyes and counted to ten as you wigged around before settling chest to chest with him. You seemed half focused on the movie, preferring to press gentle kisses to his face and neck instead as you held hands. The soft clenching of your pussy around him as you loved on him was almost too much. But he didn't want it to stop. He focused all of his energy and attention on you while the movie played.

"You're making me feel so good, Baby Girl," he crooned, stroking your cheek while you kissed and licked along the scars on the side of his neck. "I love this body," he added, squeezing a nice handful of your ass. 

You moaned softly, and he enjoyed the fluttering feeling of your arousal as you told him how much you missed him. You rolled your hips with the occasional soft thrust, and Bradley just remained rock hard and ready for you to take this wherever you wanted to. You were soaking wet and warm and inviting. And when the movie ended you started to fuck him, your eyes closing as you came after a few strokes. 

You started shivering in Bradley's arms as you said, "You felt too good. I couldn't go any longer."

He held you in place and thrust up into you. "My only goal is to make you feel good in every way." But then he was panting, and he only lasted a few more strokes too, after spending so long inside you. And your fingers were in his hair and your lips were on his cheek, and he didn't know how he was supposed to help himself when you loved him like this.

When you started to shift, Bradley grabbed your hips. "Don't move, don't move," he begged. "Just let me stay like this. For a minute." 

Your cheek came to rest on his chest as you traced his paper airplane tattoo and sighed. And all he wanted to do was skip work all week and keep this going.

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

Monday morning was an obnoxious wake up call after the weekend spent with Bradley. You'd taken a few minutes to call your parents so they could talk to Bradley. Then another bath rounded out Sunday night, followed by listening to him read another two pages from his notebook. His words were poetry, and when you told him that, he laughed. But they were the most beautiful thing you'd ever heard in your life, so you thought it was actually a pretty good description of what he had written. 

The two of you got dressed in your uniforms in the morning, and Bradley apologized again for the broken French press and placed a Starbucks pickup order for you to grab on your way to work. And then the two of you made out in the living room. You just made out with your husband with no further expectations than simply enjoying his lips on yours and his hands on your butt and the little sound of your nametag tapping his pins. 

"We need to leave," he whispered before sucking on your bottom lip. Your fingers had messed up his tidy hair, and you were going to work with puffy lips now. 

"I can be a little late," you told him, making him laugh. So he backed you up against the wall and kissed along your neck until you were giggling from the prickle of his mustache. 

You eventually made it to work with your fancy coffee and a smile on your face. Bradley hadn't mentioned anything about your cycle all weekend long. You felt a brand new energy humming through your body. Cat laughed when she saw you, and you wanted to ask if she'd talked to Jake. You also wanted to see your friends at lunch, but there was honestly too much to get done. Tomorrow would be another day. Today you'd get as much of your work done as you could and then go home to Bradley. 

You worked straight through until almost three o'clock when you were sitting in the lab, finalizing some math before it was submitted. Your computer pinged with an email from your boss's boss's boss. You almost never heard from Admiral Yates directly. You tapped it open and your blood ran cold. This had to be some sort of mistake as you skimmed down to the second paragraph.

I need the audio communication pulled from the special mission on the USS Theodore Roosevelt from April 21st, and I need the coding to be verified on everything before it is submitted. Have it ready by midnight tonight. This is for the court-martial of ADM. BECKETT DEAN and LT. HARRIS "Slayer" HAINES (docket MT47489). This is regarding the incident involving LT. NATASHA "Phoenix" TRACE, LT. ROBERT "Bob" FLOYD, LCDR. BRADLEY "Rooster" BRADSHAW....

There were more names, but you couldn't read them. You almost fell out of your seat after you saw your husband's name listed as part of a group involved in some sort of incident. Something bad enough that comms needed to be verified. And then it occurred to you that as many times as you had asked Bradley for details about his deployment, he had given you none. The perfect bubble of the weekend felt like it just popped in your face. You thought you might throw up as you dug your phone out of your pocket.

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I feel like Roo and BG can breathe again! But maybe he should have taken the time to talk about his deployment. Oh, Bradley. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 15

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[wisteriagoesvroom]

📚 10 f1 fics i've loved lately 🏎️

been thinking a lot about how to organise fic recs into some sort of sensible post, 'cus there are so many (great!) pairings and (delicious!) driver combinations, not to mention so many varying styles of fic and SUPER TALENTED WRITERS!!111!!

just gonna list a bunch in no particular order, with accompanying pics, so you can get a sense of the vibes.

'cus what is f1 rpf but all about the ✨ vibes?! 🏁

p.s. people are in this community making amazing stuff for freeee!! if you liked these please leave a kudos or a comment, it makes a writer's day 🫡 

let's gooooo--

objects in the mirror by linearity (@drivestraight) charles/max. 87k words (series), rated t then e

listen. LISTEN! charles to rbr is one of the best premises ever and i will read it in like a thousand iterations. but this fic. this fic series in particular cleared my skin, made me want to cut my hair into a bob out of sheer emotion. i would be remiss not to start with this one because its impact on my f1 rpf trajectory should be studied by science. you know when a story just jumps off the page and it's so real that it becomes your canon. a kind of meteoric inevitability. plus, i almost never cry at fics. but by the time the third act of this one hit, i just went -- damn, am i rly about to tear up at a f1 rpf fanfiction rn? (yes.)

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sawtooth by nottonyharrison (@nottonyharrison) charles/max. 40k words, rated e

max as a f1 engineer? for CARLOS at FERRARI? sign me the fuckkk up. first off, awesome premise. there's always going to be something so heartwrenching about "what ifs", especially in any universe where max isn't a racer. despite the change of circumstances, just... the sheer poetry of two characters who just inexplicably find their way to each other in any universe... 🤧 also this story nails racing scenes in a way that's so visceral, i feel like a fly on the damn halo with them. and, aside from the gourmet lestappen, carlos's whole thing in this fic is joyous! spicy! he's so unapologetic and vaguely annoying! hilarious! + the swimming pool scene lives rent-free in my head.

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salt skin by peachbellini (@strawberry-daiquiris) oscar/lando. 12k words, rated e

this fic is magic. literally and figuratively. (MERMAID LANDO???? MERMAID LANDO.) the kind of story that makes you gasp and melt a little bit. and made me want to throw my phone at the writer, 'cause it's really that good. the yearning, the metaphor for all that's monstrous, a boy who is lost (and the boy who he finds, is equally so). this is just beautifully written and a little quirky and so well executed. i think i put it in my bookmarks as "what if lando was a mermaid and it was filmed by a24" or something. pearl of a story.

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hockey!! shrimp colors :) by leafmeal0ne (@ocontraire) oscar/lando. 13k words, rated t

leaf meal one. i have only known you a week but if anything were to happen to you i would wreck everyone in the room including myself. in all seriousness, anything that leaf writes is brilliant. they're one of these writers who could do a throwaway line on the label of a ketchup bottle and i will probably scream about it. the precision, the way they switch up sentence structures, the freaking darcy-level regency yearning transposed onto a contemporary sports setting. i'd rec all of leaf's sports AUs and i'll probably talk about more in a future fic rec post. BUT. the hockeyyy one my GOD. the barely restrained violence, their mutual desire, the theme of finding your place... *wails uncontrollably*

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you almost unearthly thing by anonymous max/daniel, 3.7k words, rated g

max is a governess(govern..lad?) and daniel is the mystery man at the manor. this was a response to a request i made in the kinkmeme! (if you haven't read those fics go check 'em out, there are so many great ones, and not necessarily all rated e). this is a criminally underrated little story that has my favourite repressed feelings + people dancing around each other + gothic vibes + "what the hell is wrong with y'all in this tale" combo that i really adore. it's really well written and captures the atmosphere so well.

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the so-called narrative by antimonyandthyme (@antimonyandthyme) oscar/carlos, 10k words, rated e

i'm once again asking why there are only 7 carlos/oscar works in the tag. I'M ONCE AGAIN ASKING-- *is sedated*. *jolts awake* okay but for real this is a great story. hot, fake-friendship-to-situationship which so happens is one of my favourite places to be. also hello miscommunication/they're so weird about it/they both want each other but can't express themselves for shit/insane racer boys energy.

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and silver, and samarium by pink_mink (@on-softs) george/toto, 5.2k words, rated e

i profess i am not usually the biggest fan of A/B/O (altho!! this fandom has made me go BUT ACTUALLY HM at least a few times). and this fic freaking nails it, along with the twisted power dynamics between TPs and drivers, as seen through the lens of omegaverse. this story rattles around my head like a stubborn ghoul just from the style and prose and sheer audacity alone. george kneeling at toto's knees while he's working..... ohhhhhhhhh i was this close to calling my lawyers.

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algorithm by anney (@badboy-george) charles/max, 16k words, rated e

i LOVE, LOOOOVE a sci fi concept alright. love that shit, will inhale it like moon dust with zero regrets. and what a fantastic one this one is!! the premise is that the FIA can now statistically show the compatibility of drivers on the grid and it's very pacific rim-y drift compatible, mixed with the surreal vibes of eternal sunshine or HER or some such. it should be outrageous, but it really works. that's the beauty of a great fic right there.

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trajectory of trojan asteroids by redpaint (@redpaint) nico/lewis, 3.3k words, rated g

also one of the fics i first read when i hopped on board the f1 rpf train. the pain and poignancy just gets worse the more i learn about brocedes. you know when you're like "there's no way this was reallll" and then you're like "fuck, it was so real". then you get a fic like this that just encapsulates all that rage and loss and grief and upset, set against the starry vista of endless space. *clutches tablecloth* god.

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p.s please bear in mind that these recs are entirely subjective! i enjoy loads of f1 stories but these are the ones that have especially stuck with me for some inexplicable reason.

p.p.s if your fic is on here and you want it taken off for whatever reason, i'm happy to, no questions asked 💛

BYE for now / until part 2. (i also love talking to ppl about fics so pls feel free to send an ask or hit me up in DMs or whatever.)

xoxo, -- wizz

[dont-offend-the-bees]

We Glimpse Each Other Out of Phase

Hello lovelies; rough weekend, huh? I've had this one roughly drafted for a couple of weeks and was planning to keep it in my back pocket as a Deadboyween prompt fill. However, given the cancellation news, I think maybe we could all use a little gentle melancholy comfort right now. So I cleaned it up a bit, and I hope you will take this little snippet as the warm hug it is intended as 💛 So this technically follows on from/is set in the same universe as my Painland Week fic Something I Can Turn To. A fic which I basically intended to leave as a one shot, but I got quite invested in the universe and have been absolutely blown away by the response to it. So it became a collection which now features, as well as my own fic, two wonderful fics by williamvapespeare and one by Ingi, and I would heartily recommend you check them out if you enjoy this story or my original one! That being said, you probably CAN read this without having read the first story, I just wouldn't personally recommend it, you'll be missing a lot of context and backstory! 3.7k, rated T, also available on Ao3 (registered users only!) Part One (Something I Can Turn To) on tumblr

Charles may have had a bit of a rough go of it growing up, but there'd been quiet moments, too. Most of 'em in a rickety old attic, with the only lad in the entire world he could trust with just about anything.

But there were peaceful times at home, too. Safe ones. Mostly at night. Long as he was quiet, didn't cry too loud or stomp about, he could get through eight-ish hours unbothered. Sure, sometimes he had to pace around the room a bit, silent on sock feet just to shake out the excess energy that wouldn't let him sleep but honestly? He bloody loved sleeping. Couldn't get enough of it. Long as he didn't make a fuss, didn't draw attention, he could sink into his bed in the cellar room and just sort of... bob out of his life for a bit. Like a smoke break, but better for his health. If he was dead lucky, he'd even stumble into Edwin's arms in his dreams; pass the time there 'til morning, when it all kicked off again.

So it wasn't easy, getting used to night shifts. It was a fair trade-off for all the other freedom in his life lately but bloody hell, did it sting a bit, losing that time. That dark, quiet nothing where he could be nothing, too, just for a bit. There was almost something sacred about it. Something he hadn’t known was important to him ‘til it was gone.

At least the night shift was pretty quiet, usually. Most of the people who needed to use a gym at two in the morning weren't exactly there to socialise. Charles' job pretty much amounted to half-dozing at reception and handing someone a towel now and then. He'd not had many nutjobs to deal with or fires to put out.

Then again, maybe a good disaster was what he needed just to stay awake. Christ, he was shattered. Took him a good few tries to get the key in the lock when he finally staggered home.

Charles was sad — but not surprised — to find the kitchen light on when he fell through the door.

He rolled his eyes. "Honey," he called, jokingly, the endearment all funny and wrong on his tongue. He'd call Edwin a lot of things — mate, love, best friend, fucking soulmate — but honey? Mingin'. "I'm home."

Edwin's reply was half a second too slow — textbook Edwin guilt response. Like when your cat didn't jump off the counter fast enough to pretend it hadn't been there in the first place. "Good evening, Charles."

"Good morning, more like," said Charles, drawing the bolts — all three of them — across and dropping his bag in a sloppy heap by the door. His coat came next, then each shoe, leaving a trail behind him as he stumbled towards the voice. The hallway felt too short and dark to be called a hallway, really. Looked more like a cupboard where someone had shoved a load of loose doors they had lying around. There was one to the kitchen, one to the bathroom, one to the bedroom that was basically also their living room. Plus a bunch of other weird little cupboard doors and hatches and grates and things, none of which led to anything you’d logically expect them to. It was a shambles, really. A 'paint it magnolia and fob it off on the students' sort of ruin. But it was home. Even bone-tired, he still found the energy to lock gaze with the weird eye-motif lamp Edwin had picked up somewhere and put on one of the non-shelves, and give it his customary wink. Felt wrong not to. Unlucky, somehow.

A fanlike halo of yellow light spread across the hallway carpet as he pushed open the kitchen door. He found more or less what he'd expected to find behind it. Edwin: sat prim and proper at the scuffed-up little table, surrounded by books and doing a bang-up impression of someone with no bloody idea what time it was. His chin, tucked elegantly behind his curled knuckles in that little thoughtful pose of his, lifted at the sound of the door. His eyes found Charles and narrowed, just a little, sketching a pleased little crinkle or two at the corners.

"Charles," he greeted once again, voice softer this time. "How was your shift?"

Edwin hadn't had those laugh lines when Charles had met him. Seeing as he was twelve, and not exactly full of reasons to smile. Charles wasn't gonna take full credit for them, or anything, but... well, not many other people putting in the legwork, were there?

He dragged in a breath and let it out again, sharply, puffing it out in a raspberry. "Same old."

Charles crossed the kitchen in about three steps (it wasn't a big kitchen), clocking Edwin's book of choice on the way. Some textbook with a long-winded title that basically translated to lawyer gubbins. He put a hand on Edwin's shoulder — and Edwin tilted his head easily, offering his cheek for a kiss. Charles grinned and pressed one to the tail end of one of those little lines.

"Burning the midnight oil?" asked Charles, nicking one of Edwin's favourite expressions. He always seemed to pick up the ones that made him sound about a hundred years old.

Edwin hummed, carefully noncommittal. "I must have lost track of time."

"Could've counted these, for a start," said Charles, tapping the little saucer on the table. It was piled high with used teabags, like some damp and deranged game of Jenga. "Might've given you a clue."

"I've been rather busy," Edwin sniffed, turning the page in his book. "Lots of swotting to be done before my lecture on Monday."

"Right, that's what this is, is it?"

"What else would it be?"

Charles reached out, pinched the book Edwin was reading at the centre, and slid it out of the bigger, decoy book he was holding with its cover facing out. "Oldest trick in the book, mate. Literally," he grinned. He lifted Edwin's secret reading into his arms, having a flip through. "Y'know, most people only pull that move when they've got dirty mags to hide.”

Edwin cleared his throat. Even in the dim light of the table lamp, Charles clocked the embarrassed flush on his cheeks. "Well," he said, setting the law textbook he absolutely wasn't reading on the table. "It does get rather draining, this intensive focus on one subject. I felt the need for a brief diversion."

Charles closed the secret book, glancing at the cover. "Anthropology, again. Like that one, don't you?"

"Hm. There's much to explore; it encompasses a rather broad area of study." Edwin took it back and slid it, sheepishly, behind the pile of other law volumes stacked at his elbow. "It's a fascinating subject."

"Should've applied for it," said Charles, gentle. He rubbed Edwin's shoulder absently — getting a little more intent when he felt Edwin melt a bit, his knotted muscles loosening under Charles' digging thumb. "Or any of the other five million bloody things you're interested in. Y'know, 'stead of the one thing you're not."

"I am interested in it!" Edwin blustered.

Charles raised an eyebrow at him.

Edwin sighed. "I am," he said, bit quieter. "It's just not all I'd like to be doing. But it was the right choice, of that I'm quite certain."

Charles sighed and stepped around him, coming to lean on the table, arms crossed. Their eyes met across the short distance. "Look. If you say it's alright, it's alright. I'll believe you, mate, honest I will."

He nudged Edwin's toe with his own, sock to holey sock. "But, y'know. Not for nothing, but at school you was always going on about all that stuff you wanted to do. Bloody... archaeology in Peru, and whatever else. Just don't see how a law degree gets you there, is all."

Edwin leaned back in his chair a bit, steepling his fingers. "Well, no. No, it doesn't get me to Peru; or Pompeii, or Patagonia —"

"Or anywhere beginning with a 'p'," Charles teased.

Edwin's lips twitched up in a little smile. "But it will get us somewhere. A great many somewheres, I imagine. As degrees go, it opens rather a lot of doors."

Charles cocked his head, squinting fondly. "'Us'?"

"Obviously, Charles," said Edwin, with a dismissive wave of his hand. Like a reality where he didn't bring Charles wherever he went wasn't worth considering.

Charles grinned, ducking his head.

"I'm sure you'll chastise me for my cynicism," Edwin continued, oblivious to Charles and his soppy moment. "But... Well, given the somewhat rocky beginnings you and I have encountered in life, I thought it best to..."

"What? Play it safe?"

"Yes," said Edwin. Firm, unapologetic. "Exactly. Because I would very much like for both of us to be safe in life, Charles."

"We are! Well," Charles shrugged, scratching at his nose with a wince. Still ached a bit sometimes, all told, even though the break was years ago. "We are now."

"And I would like for it to stay that way."

"It will!" Charles half-perched on the table, and nudged Edwin's leg with his big toe. "I'll look after us, won't I?"

Edwin looked up at him, and his eyes softened. Fuck, but he had the kindest bloody eyes — least when he turned them on Charles he did. His hand landed on Charles' knee, gentle as you like; rubbing small circles with his thumb like Charles had done on his shoulders.

"You've done more than enough already, Charles," he said, looking him dead in the eye; not letting him hide for anything. "It's only fair I look after you, too, now and again. Especially when it's within my power to do so."

Charles laughed, a thin, hitching sort of thing. His eyes felt all prickly. Fuck, he couldn't go crying on him, now — his eyeliner'd smudge everywhere, it'd be so obvious.

"Look after me," he mimicked, catching Edwin's hand in his, stealing it all for himself. "You gimme a bloody reason to wake up in the morning, mate. What else d'you need?"

Edwin opened his mouth, brows going all scrunched up like they did at the start of a concerned lecture. Charles ducked in and shushed him quicksharp with a kiss.

"Not saying I'm about to, like, off myself if you chuck me, or anything," he laughed against his lips, fondness glowing in the grate of his ribs like smouldering coals. He chased the kiss with a smaller one, to the corner of Edwin's mouth; the scratchy dusting of his five o'clock shadow. "I'd just wallow about being proper depressed, so. Don't chuck me, please?"

Maybe he was clinging a little too hard for his tone of voice. Maybe he was giving it all away in the hands — always such desperate, grasping fucking things. Always his problem, the hands. How they grabbed things, hit things, did things before his brain always had the chance to catch up. How long 'til Edwin got sick of Charles hanging onto him like a life raft, dragging him down with his dead weight? How long 'til the bones in Edwin's hands started to creak from being clutched too tight?

But Edwin just scoffed, quietly — completely failing to hide that little spark of humour in his eyes. "I hardly think that's a possibility, Charles," he said, lifting his other hand to pat the back of Charles'. His soft fingertips kissed feather-light against Charles' grazed, calloused knuckles. "Honestly,” he sighed, dramatically. “Here I sit, talking about the devastatingly boring career I'm attempting to get off the ground in order to keep you in the manner to which you've become accustomed, and you think I'm about to chuck you."

He shook his head, crow’s feet crinkling and bloody hell. Charles loved him so much it felt overwhelming, sometimes. Like he needed a whole extra heart in his chest just to store it all.

Charles kissed Edwin's hand and flopped, happily, onto his lap, grinning at the mild ‘oof’ it shoved out of him. Grinning even wider when Edwin's other arm wrapped around Charles’ waist without a second thought. Edwin was a bit picky about personal space, for good reason — not with Charles, though. Charles had a standing invitation and he put it to bloody good use.

"Bet you could make a weird job work for you too, y'know," said Charles, dropping his next peck to Edwin's forehead as he sank into his lap. His head felt heavier already; only thing keeping him going was the effort of holding himself upright. Draped over Edwin like a blanket, he could've just dozed off right then and there. But the kitchen chair was creaking threateningly, so. Probably a bad idea. "I know the weird stuff's usually more competitive and that, but you're that smart. You'd run rings round the others, mate, get ahead of the game."

He flung his arms round Edwin's shoulders, scratched at the back of his head, the hair at his nape. It was a little longer than Edwin liked it. He needed a trim. So did Charles, really; his racing stripes had grown out and he kept having to blow stray curls out of his eyes. But they were saving their pennies any way they could. "You could go do something interesting, something a bit barmy," said Charles. "Something with a bit of adventure, yeah? Or at least where you get to have your nose in interesting books all day. You'd love that."

Edwin sighed, resting his cheek against Charles' shoulder as his eyes drifted shut. "That does sound compelling. But I've rather made my bed, Charles; I’ve no money coming in at all if I don’t study for it. And it is interesting, in moderation. Besides, it..."

"What?"

"It seems... like a decent thing to do." The warm weight of Edwin's arm squeezed Charles' waist. "Something I could do a modicum of good with."

Charles heard a rustle, and glanced over his shoulder. Edwin's other hand was flicking through the law book on the table, clever fingers finding the module he wanted without even checking the contents. Charles had to squint at it a moment, his exhausted eyes skittering off the page. He thought he saw 'human' and 'rights' in that word soup of a title.

He softened. "Eds..."

"I merely thought..." Edwin made a little noise of frustration in his throat, angling his face further into Charles. Speaking so soft it almost got lost in his skin, words lodging small and timid in his bones. "So many years, Charles. Trapped at the mercy of other people, no one caring if we lived or died, I... I could do something about it. Learn the right words to say, the right arguments, the right resources. So no one else need..."

Sometimes it fucking killed Charles, that there were people out there who thought Edwin was some... some selfish, spoiled rich toff with no feelings. As if he wasn't the kindest bloody person in the world; as if he hadn't had to carve that kindness out himself with his bare, bleeding hands.

Edwin sniffed. “It was just an idea,” he mumbled. “A silly idea.”

Charles shook his head, stroked Edwin's hair. "S'not a silly idea, love. Not silly at all."

Edwin never struggled to find his words like this — and he definitely didn’t mumble them. Words were his weapons, and he could go toe-to-toe with the best of 'em, talk bloody circles 'round his opponents.

Charles looked from him to the stack of books, the tower of teabags. The plastic clock on the wall, its hands marching on into the morning.

"Aw, mate," he said, rubbing the back of Edwin's neck — and dropping a kiss to the top of his head. "You're dead on your feet, in’t you?"

"I'm perfectly fine," Edwin grumbled. "And I've tests to study for —"

"Tests in subjects you're not bloody taking? Yeah, right." Charles bit his lip, cuddling Edwin's head against his chest. "Can't sleep, can you?"

Edwin was quiet a moment, breathing nice and steady into Charles' throat.

"It's still... difficult," he said.

Three door bolts and four hundred miles was a start, but bad memories had a way of following you about. Charles closed his eyes and breathed in, nice and slow; hoping Edwin could feel it in his chest, find a nice rhythm in his rising ribs.

"Edwin," he said, nuzzling into his hair. "On my life, mate — one of these days, you and me are gonna be so bloody set you'll be able to do whatever you want. Go back to uni fifty times, hundred times, don't care. Study for the rest of your life, if you want.” He tapped Edwin’s temple. “Cram everything that's ever interested you in that big brain of yours. Promise you."

It shouldn't've felt like taking a bloody knight's oath, whispered words at the kitchen table at stupid o'clock in the morning. But Christ, he'd fought off enough dragons to get ‘em here, hadn’t he?

He felt Edwin's smile against his skin, followed by the little dry brush of his kiss. "You could, too. If you liked," he said. "Get your A-levels, apply for university..."

Charles laughed, shaking his head. "Not sure I could keep up."

"Charles," Edwin admonished, in that stern teacher voice that was cuter (and fitter) than it had any right to be. "You're exceptionally bright."

"Ah, come on, mate," Charles mumbled, squirming. Edwin's arm round his waist locked as if it could sense an escape attempt incoming.

"You are. I remember your grades, before... well. Everything that occurred." He smoothed down the collar of Charles' fuck-ugly work shirt. "It's hardly your fault your final years went awry as they did. You could go back, take some courses at the local college. Try again."

"Right, sure."

Edwin huffed, frustrated. "I'm being quite serious, in the event that wasn't obvious."

"When aren't you?" Charles chuckled. He stared at the wall, at the stupid fucking boyband calendar their kooky upstairs neighbour gave Edwin for Christmas. Most of the writing on it was Edwin's, neat and tiny, scheduling tests and lectures and study blocks. Most of Charles' additions were just the word 'WORK', scribbled in on scattered days — more so Edwin knew when he was coming and going, rather than for his own benefit. Always different days, different times. Shift work; no chance to form a routine. He was never great at that, anyway.

"Not even sure what I'd do," he mumbled.

Edwin's palm on Charles' waist rubbed, soothing, grounding. "You never had something you wanted to study?" he asked. "Something you wanted to go into?"

"I..." His brow furrowed. It was so hard to think, sometimes. About times before now. Like all those bloody miserable years just blended into this mush of dread and misery. "I dunno what I wanted," he admitted. "Couldn't... couldn't think that far ahead, could I? I just wanted my mum to be alright. Wanted my dad to think I was worth something. Wanted not to hurt anymore."

He sniffed, and laughed, a watery sort of sound. His arm around Edwin's shoulders squeezed.

"Only thing I ever wanted and got back then was you," he said, flippant, like it didn't really matter. 'Cause it didn't really, did it? Wasn't some big confession or anything. Some deep, dark secret. Edwin knew. They both knew.

But Edwin breathed in sharply, a little ragged round the edges, so maybe he needed reminding now and again. "Charles..."

"Fuck," Charles chuckled, releasing Edwin so he could lean back and rub his eyes — so Edwin wouldn’t have his ear to Charles’ heart when it started beating too fast. "I'm shattered, mate. Dunno what I'm even saying anymore, do I?"

Maybe one of these days, he’d stop being too scared of the fucking size of his own feelings to sit with them a moment.

Maybe they both would.

Edwin sighed, pulling his hand from Charles' waist to pinch at the bridge of his own nose. "I suppose it has gotten rather late." He glanced at the clock, and winced. "Early. You should go and sleep. I'm sure you've had a long day."

Charles hummed, leaving his nice warm spot in Edwin's lap — but his hands didn't leave his shoulders. "C'mon, then," he mumbled, giving them a squeeze. "Bed."

"Better to go without me. I shan't sleep tonight."

"Didn't say anything about sleeping, now, did I?"

Edwin raised his eyebrow.

Charles' brain caught up to his mouth, and he laughed. "Ah — love to, darlin', but. Yeah, seriously, I'm fucking knackered. I meant, like — let's just have a bit of a cuddle, yeah?" He tugged at Edwin's collar where it poked out of his nice green jumper. It was a little crooked — Edwin must've really got into a study groove and unfastened a button or two. Fit as. "I proper fancy a cuddle."

"I'll be restless," said Edwin, all apologetic. "I'll only keep you awake."

Charles hummed, picking up the anthropology textbook and holding it out.

"Keep on reading, then," he said, giving Edwin the big, hopeful eyes he bloody knew he could never say no to. "Just... come read to me instead, yeah?"

Edwin had another dramatic sigh, like it was all such a big ask. He ought to tell that to his fucking smile lines. He took the book — and Charles' hand. "Well. I suppose I can manage that."

~

Charles didn't know how long Edwin stayed awake, in the end. Could've been hours for all he knew, he'd have had no idea — Charles had been asleep in bloody seconds. Head pillowed on Edwin's shoulder, that gorgeous voice rattling off dry old text blocks and making them sound like spoken-word lullabies... how could he resist?

All he knew was when he woke up, it was eleven in the morning, the sun was slanting through the crooked blinds; and Edwin was snoring softly underneath him. His hair a mess, his textbook open on his chest. His arm a slack, warm weight around Charles' shoulders.

Charles smiled, rubbed his dry eyes — forgot to scrub off his eyeliner before he konked out, again. Classic — and settled back in, nestling safe and sound into the the crook of Edwin's arm. Fuck it. It was Saturday. He'd asked Crystal to pick up his shift today, anyway, so him and Edwin could get a little quality time in.

If all they did with that time was sleep, well. Time well spent, innit? It wasn't like a smoke break from life when he did it with Edwin, anyway.

More like... stepping back to enjoy the view.

~~

Thanks for reading my loves, I hope it soothed the ache somewhat 💛 This has been a strange little one because I've essentially had to take something I very much wrote as a one-shot, and build onto what I established. When I wrote that first one-shot I didn't even have a clear idea in my mind for what Edwin was studying or anything! So things will likely change and grow and develop and who knows where we'll end up, but it's nice to see the lads figuring it out alongside me ^_^ Thanks for reading guys! It's been a bit of a long silence from me since Painland Week ended but I promise I'm working on stuff, including the next chapter of Lonely Bones! Regardless of what has happened to the show or whether it gets picked up or not, my plan is to keep writing and creating for it for as long as it sparks joy to do so - and seeing as I've made some amazing friends in this fandom, I think I'm gonna be here a while! I sure hope you guys are, too 💛 (p.s. if you are over 18, trustworthy with semi-secret identities, and like weird rarepair smut, feel free to DM me for my side Ao3 that I'm sure will be getting some action over the next few months xD)