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sebscore · 4 months ago

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ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

pairings: f1 grid x driver!reader (she/her pronouns)

warnings: angst. angst. angst. swearing. like a lot of swearing. i cannot write crashes/contact for the life of me. argument. lando and reader are assholes in this.

author's note: dont even ask me why i wrote this, i got inspired and needed it out of my system. lol.

masterlist

''Retire the car. Too much damage. Sorry, Y/N.'' Marco informed her over the radio, sounding frustrated and apologetic over her already finished race.

The driver took a deep breath before answering. ''Too bad, it was going well. Thanks, guys.''

Her race had in fact been going well. She'd made a great start going from P4 to P2, and had managed to keep up with the Red Bull of Max. They weren't even halfway in the race or Lando tried overtaking her, causing contact, causing her to run off in the gravel with too much trouble on the car to continue.

In her opinion, it had been reckless. The McLaren driver knew exactly she would end up being forced off the track by the overtake, and that her race would most likely be over because of it.

As she trudged back to the garage, helmet in hand, she could barely contain her frustration. The team greeted her with sympathetic looks, but she didn't stop to talk to anyone. She headed straight for her driver's room, needing a moment to cool off before she could face the media.

Her hands trembled with anger as she peeled off her gloves, tossing them onto a nearby chair. The season hadn't been going how she had hoped or even expected it to go. Last year she had been the vice World Champion, the undisputed second-best driver on the grid, the only one to essentially have been able to challenge Max's dominance. Now, she got lucky to even end up in the top five of a race. Her team's design of the car hadn't been meeting the expectations the engineers had set, and upgrades weren't helping in the way they had hoped.

That is why this race weekend had been a great boost for the team's morale and confidence. Qualifying had gone really well, and for a moment they were able to fight for the win even. But the papaya car of No. 4 had shoved their hopes down the drain.

Minutes later, there was a knock on the door. She turned to see Marco standing there, looking concerned. ''You okay?''

''Have I ever been okay,'' she remarked, a sarcastic chuckle leaving her lips. ''I'm just pissed, that's all. I had high hopes for today.''

''We all did,'' he smiled sadly. ''The stewards reviewed the incident, but he, uh, didn't get a penalty.'' He said softly, almost as if he was afraid of her reaction.

The young woman let out a bitter laugh. ''Of course he didn't, why would he?'' Her hands covered her face, briefly wiping off the sweat that had formed.

Marco took a step closer, his expression a mix of empathy and disappointment. ''You drove brilliantly out there. Everyone saw it. The team saw it. It's just... racing politics sometimes.''

She dropped her hands, meeting his eyes with a mixture of anger and resignation. ''It's always like that, though. It's always the same drivers suffering the consequences of others, and they don't get shit for it. It is fucking annoying.''

Her engineer nodded, understanding everything she was saying. ''I know, we all know. But we keep fighting. We keep pushing. This season isn't over yet.''

''Yeah, true.'' She sighed.

Marco gave her a reassuring smile. ''We'll be ready for the next race. We're all in this together, okay? We're all behind you.''

She nodded, feeling a small measure of comfort in his words. ''Thanks, I appreciate it.'' They shared a quick embrace, before he left to join the team again. Meanwhile she got herself ready to go to the media pen. As much as she wanted to hide away, she knew it was part of the job.

Since she had an early exit, there wasn't much activity inside the area, though there were a bunch of reporters waiting for her.

''Y/N, tough race today. Can you tell us what happened from your perspective?'' The reporter asked after briefly greeting her.

''Yeah, it was, uh, challenging, I guess,'' she plastered a smile on her face. ''We had a great start, moving up to P2 and keeping pace with Max. Then, yeah, the contact with Lando. The car had a bunch of damage, and we decided to just retire the car.''

''Do you think it was a fair move by him?'' He followed up.

She paused, weighing her response. ''Racing is always intense, especially at this level. I don't think it was the right move to make, but the stewards saw it as a racing incident. I'll respect their decision, but it doesn't make it any less frustrating.''

''You and Lando are good friends, and have been racing against each other since your karting days. Will you talk to him afterwards or just forget about it?''

They had expected a question like this, so the media-trained answer came out very quickly. ''It was deemed a racing incident, so there is not much to say further about it.''

''How do you and your team plan to bounce back from this setback?'' The reporter for Sky Sports changed the topic.

''We'll regroup and come back stronger,'' she answered, injecting as much determination into her voice as she could muster. ''This season has been tough, but my team and I are committed to pushing forward. We learn from every race, and today is no different.''

''That's great, thank you, Y/N.'' They wrapped up the interview, and she moved onto a new one.

Once she had spoken to everyone she needed to speak to, she finally had a moment to herself. She knew the words she had just spoken were the right ones, but they did little to soothe the turmoil inside her.

It didn't help that Lando managed to take the lead, and eventually get his first win. As she watched the remainder of the race from the sidelines, her emotions were all over the place. On the one hand, she was proud of her friend for finally making his dream come true. However, it had come at the expense of her race. She had pushed so hard this season, and to see her friend and rival celebrate his triumph while she stood there with nothing but frustration was almost unbearable.

The cheers from the McLaren garage echoed in her ears. They celebrated wildly, the joy of his long-awaited victory palpable even from a distance. He was swarmed by his team as they shouted his name.

The podium ceremony was even worse. As Lando stood on the top step, the British national anthem playing in the background, she couldn't help but replay the moment that had ended her race. She could see the excitement in his eyes, the genuine happiness that came with achieving a lifelong dream. But all she could think about was the contact, the gravel trap, and the wrecked potential of what could have been her race.

Under any other circumstance, she would have been there for him. She would have run to the ceremony herself, just like he had done for her when she got her first win in F1 and made history as the first woman to do so. But it just stung too deep.

''Lando, there was an incident with Y/N that resulted in her retiring from the race. Can you tell us what happened there?'' The Dutch reporter asked the race winner.

Lando's expression shifted slightly, the euphoria dimming just a bit. ''Uh, yeah. I saw a gap and went for it. It was a tight move, and unfortunately, it led to some contact. But that's racing, you know.''

''Have you spoken to her yet?''

''Not yet,'' he admitted. ''But I don't think there is much to talk about.'' He chuckled, quickly glancing sideways, but his laugh seemed forced.

''She told Sky Sports that she didn't think you made the right move there.'' The journalist said, instigating a headline for them to be able to use.

Lando frowned at his words, but recovered. ''Well, that's her opinion. It was just racing for me.''

''So you don't regret making the move?'' The reporter pressed on.

The Brit took a deep breath before answering. ''I regret that it ended her race. But as a racer, you have to take chances. It's a fine line, you know.''

The older man in front of him nodded at his response, knowing they had gotten a glimpse of the tension that was present between the fan-favorite duo. ''Thank you, Lando. Congratulations again.''

''Thank you.''

With that, the interview wrapped up, and Lando moved onto the next reporter. As he walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. He didn't think he had done anything wrong, so why was everyone talking to him as if he had done something wrong?

Y/N was struggling to unwind. The events of the day played over and over in her mind, each replay more frustrating than the last. She tried to distract herself by either watching some TikToks or TV, but nothing could drown out her thoughts. The texts from her friends, family and team certainly didn't help. It was a nice gesture, but she didn't want to think about the race anymore and the messages weren't helping. Finally, she decided to call it a night and climbed into bed, hoping sleep would offer some respite.

Just as she was starting to drift off, another knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. It was unusual for someone to bother her this late, especially when she was winding down in her hotel room.

She frowned and got out of bed, opening the door to find Lando standing there, wearing his signature grin, acting nonchalant as ever. ''You wanna come celebrate with us? We rented a club.''

Y/N frowned at him, confused over his casual behavior. ''No.'' She scoffed, offended by the mere thought.

It was now Lando's turn to frown at his friend. ''Why?''

She crossed her arms, incredulous at his obliviousness. ''Why? Are you taking the fucking piss out of me or something.''

His grin faltered slightly, but he tried to maintain his composure. ''If this is about the racing incident then you're being ridiculous.''

Her eyes widened in disbelief, her frustration boiling over. ''I am being ridiculous? You were ridiculous with that move you pulled!'' She retorted, raising her voice. ''You ran me off the track knowing how hard this season has fucking been for me. You know how much I needed a good result today and you ruined it for me!''

''Y/N, I get that you're upset, but it's racing. These things are bound to happen. I saw a gap and I went for it. The stewards didn't even penalize me, so clearly, it wasn't as bad as you're making it out to be.'' He was restraining from rolling his eyes, she could tell.

She scoffed, shaking her head. ''Oh, so now you're agreeing with the stewards? Now that it is benefitting you? And there was no fucking gap, you were just being selfish. You knew what you were doing, and you didn't care how it would affect me.''

Lando's face hardened, his patience wearing thin. ''I didn't do it on purpose to screw you over, where the fuck are you getting that from? I saw an opportunity, and I took it. That's what we do out there. You know that better than anyone."

''If that opportunity was ruining my fucking race, then yeah, you really took the opportunity, Norris.'' She rolled her eyes, voice tinged with sarcasm.

He took a step closer, his frustration now matching hers. ''I'm sorry that you didn't get the result you wanted today, I really am. But I am not going to apologize for racing and doing my job, Y/N.''

She simply glared at him, disappointed in how he was acting towards her. They'd never really had an argument before, at least not one where they couldn't see each other's point. They'd been frustrated with each other before, but it was always in reason.

''If anything, I should be angry with you- not the other way.'' Lando suddenly said.

''Why's that?'' She sneered, almost in disbelief that he would have a valid reason.

''Because you didn't even have the fucking guts to congratulate me,'' he snapped back, ''when you won Silverstone, I was literally one of the first people to hug you and congratulate you for your win. I stood next to your fucking parents, Y/N! And today you didn't even bother doing anything.''

Her mouth fell open, a mix of shock and anger flooding her veins. ''You are unbelievable… You ruined my fucking race, Lando! How am I supposed to stand there and cheer for you when you cost me everything today?''

He rolled his eyes while throwing up his hands. ''This isn't just about today. You're just jealous because my season has been going so much better than yours. You can't fucking stand that for one time I'm doing actually better than you.''

''Jealous… of you?'' The words came out like laughter, slightly hurting the McLaren driver's ego. ''You think I can't be happy for you because I'm not doing as well? That's so low, Lando.''

''Ever since the start of the season you've been so moody and distant, and now you can't even say or even fucking text me a congratulations for my first win. You're so pissed that I got a win before you this season, you can't even hide it.'' He shot back.

''Oh, give me a break. Like you wouldn't act the same if you were getting all these shit results. Maybe I didn't congratulate you because I was too busy trying to scrape gravel out of my fucking tires.'' She remarked, throwing in the sarcastic comment.

Lando looked unimpressed by her remark. ''You're just mad cause I'm outshining you. You can't fucking stand that I'm getting all the attention.''

''Outshining me? Are you hearing yourself?'' She mocked him, laughing bitterly. ''You get one win and you're acting like you're a fucking World Champion already. You've been riding Max's dick these last years hoping some of his success will rub off on you. Newsflash Norris, everyone is just fucking laughing at you.''

His face turned red, either embarrassment or anger. ''At least I'm not constantly whining about my car and blaming everyone else for my problems. Maybe if you spent more time focusing on your driving and less on complaining, you'd have more to celebrate.''

''You're a fucking spoiled brat who can't stand some competition. You think everything should be handed to you on a silver platter.'' She retorted.

''And you're a fucking baby who throws a temper tantrum everytime you don't get what you want. It's time to fucking grow up, Y/N!'' He shouted, his voice rising with each word.

She took a step closer to him. ''You should spend less time trying to prove yourself to people who don't give a shit about you, and more time trying to be a decent fucking human being. I'm ashamed to call you one of my best friends.''

That last sentence had clearly hit a nerve or several nerves. He shook his head, taking a few steps back. ''Fuck you, Y/N. Enjoy your pity party.'' Lando turned and walked away, joining his friends who were waiting in the lobby.

She watched him go, her chest heaving with a mix of anger and heartbreak. She could feel the pulse of her racing heart, the adrenaline from their argument making her feel jittery and unsteady.

A lump formed in her throat as she replayed the last few minutes in her mind. She cringed internally at the words she had fired at Lando, while also trying to ignore the sting from his own harsh words. She wondered how they would be able to come back from this. They had never been in a situation like this before, and she knew that she would never want to be in this situation again.

The young woman knew that she had let her emotions get the best of her. She had always prided herself on being fair and understanding, but now she felt ashamed of herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of another door opening. George peeked out, concern etched on his face. ''Y/N, you okay?''

She shook her head, not wanting to deal with anyone else. ''Mind your business, Russell.'' She retreated back into her room, not before slamming the door behind her.

As she leaned against the closed door, the weight of the evening pressed down on her. The room felt too small, her emotions too big. She slid down to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest, and let the tears she had been holding back finally fall.

Even when she finally got up, even when she tucked herself in again for the final time, and even when she tossed and turned the entire night, the same question lingered in her mind.

Are they still friends?

The question haunted her, gnawing at her thoughts every time she closed her eyes. She replayed the argument over and over, dissecting every word, every expression. The hurt in his eyes, the anger in his voice- it all felt so raw and irreversible.

As the hours dragged on, sleep remained elusive. The darkness of the room mirrored the uncertainty in her heart. She knew they both needed time to cool off, to reflect, but the thought of facing Lando again filled her with dread.

The first light of dawn began to seep through the curtains, and she felt no more at ease than she had the night before.

Are they still friends?

story ideas are always welcome, but remember that it can take a while for me to get to it! :)

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x oc #f1 grid x reader #female f1 driver #f1 x reader #f1 x female driver

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k-zuzu · 3 months ago

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스트레이키즈

b.C, l.MH, k.SM, i.N 𖹭 gn!reader

my enemy.

synopsis: they eventually give in after years of hatred, rivalry, and built-up tension only to get caught by another member.

content: (seperate) bang chan, lee know, seungmin, i.n x gn!reader, enemies 2 what?, suggestive themes/smut 18+ (minors do not interact), making out, grinding, no genitalia or pronouns specified for the reader but you are the bottom and exhibit bottom behavior, sexual frustration, fingering/handjob in bang chan's, masturbation, penetration, bratty!reader, getting caught, mean dom!lee know, reader is called a 'pretty princess' in lee know's, hair pulling, edging, name calling in i.n's, traumatized skz witnesses, self explanatory, not proofread, lowercase intended.

zuzu's note: maybe this should be a series... i wrote them with a reader who can't get along with them (and vice versa) because... well, that's kind of how enemies work. part 2 here!

main masterlist.

channie.

you never liked chan. he wasn't at your pace — too hard working, too selfless, too self deprecating. you were annoyed by the fact that he never took care of himself, and so you avoided him regardless of how you shared the same friend group. you didn't like surrounding yourself with "negative" people like him.

chan on the other hand, didn't like you because he thought you were a rude person — you wouldn't say please, you wouldn't say thank you, you actively ignored him/pretended you didn't hear him even when he spoke to you. he didn't care if you were nice to him, he just didn't like rude people.

it wasn't known that you two were enemies — it was unspoken between you and chan, and nobody in the group took notice because you never really talked, and so, when you two were the only ones left to watch over the dorm while the rest went back to family homes or their own secret affairs, what bang chan didn't expect was to hear small moans emerging from your bedroom late at night.

you knew he wouldn't be asleep at this time. he never slept. he was always working on something with his headphones on and you were feeling really sexually frustrated at the time. you assumed for sure he wouldn't be able to hear you if you struggled a bit, but unlike you expected, he heard every bit of it, and as much as he hated it, it turned him on more than he'd like to admit.

you weren't getting anywhere with your efforts, and when you heard a knock on your door it this time of night, it could only have been one person and that ruined your entire mood. "what?" you groaned. not getting your hand out of your pants because you knew chan wouldn't just walk in and you might as well have continued what you were doing the moment he would walk away from your room.

"...so, i'm trying to work on something, but your... noises aren't exactly helping me concentrate."

you blushed and immediately withdrew your hand, immediately sitting up. you didn't know how to respond and it was silent for a good few seconds.

"s-so i would appreciate it if you... um... i- i don't know, lowered it... a bit... thanks."

with that, you heard his footsteps fade away and retreat into his own dorm next to yours. you let out the large sigh you had been holding in and wondered how you would ever go back to sleep at this rate. or how you'd ever be able to masturbate in peace again.

you didn't know why, or where you even got the courage to, but you found yourself knocking on chan's door just moments after what happened. sure, you were embarrassed but you only had little of your dignity left and might as well have lost it all when he opened the door with a small crack and curiously looked at your nervous form.

"would it be alright if you... h-helped me?" you asked with a soft voice, bang chan stared at you, expression unwavering. to clarify, you stumbled over your next words. "i have been struggling lately, and—"

bang chan grabbed your wrist and dragged you into his room, slamming the door behind you.

"and what do i get in return?" bang chan asked, voice gruff as he stared deeply into your eyes.

"...my silence for the next few weeks?" you attempted to make a deal.

"so i'll have to do this every time you're frustrated? just so i can work?" he clarified.

"does it sound like something you wanna do?"

"i guess we'll have to see first."

bang chan gently led your form to his bed, slamming you down and pinning you against the soft mattress, his hand rubbing down at your croch. you didn't know why but something about hating him up until this very moment was what turned you on most. without any more words, bang chan put his hand down your pyjamas the same way you had tried all night and continued to pleasure you better than you ever could have. if he hated you so much, why was he so good at making you feel loved?

"f-fuck, i'm so close." you whimpered, gripping onto the sheets beneath you as bang chan picked up his pace.

"yeah? you getting there, baby?" his hand never got tired. "d'you wanna do this all night?" why did he seem to enjoy pleasuring you like you enjoyed being pleasured? the mere thought brought you so close to your climax. "i could go all night, baby." he whispered in your ear, and with that, you pathetically came into your pants and on chan's big, rough hand.

you slowly turned your face to look at him, "i could go for a round 2—"

"hey, chan, i decided to come back early-" you both turned to see lee know who nonchalantly walked into the room, eyes glued to his phone as he set his bag down on the ground. chan quickly withdrew his hand from your pants, wiping it on his shirt as he stood up and walked around the side of the room while you sat up on the mattress, fixing your hair and looking at the oh-so-interesting floor. lee know looked up from his phone.

"oh, hi, y/n. what are you doing here?"

you nervously exchanged glances with chan and gulped before you could shrug and form a lie—

"oh my g- you guys fucked." lee know deadpanned, pointing at you, then chan, then you. "disgusting." he turned around and left the room. "chan's room reeks of sex now. this is totally going in the gc."

know.

it was easy to hate lee know. the moment you met him, you hated him in all sorts of ways — bad first impression, started off on the wrong foot, rubbed you off in the wrong way, and many more. you wanted to rip his guts out along with his cocky smirk, condescending voice, and dark gaze whenever he would make fun of you or judge literally anything you'd do.

lee know hated you because you were too pretty. you were too golden — everyone treated you like a princess and he hated it, he didn't think you deserved it. not that he was jealous or anything, he just believed you weren't worth all the effort and love the members gave you and assumed you were spoiled. your screaming matches were not uncommon in the dorms and lee know would always leave you stressed and pissed off to the point where you wanted to move out and he loved pushing you to that edge.

which is the exact reason you didn't know why he was pounding into you so good on the living room couch, your begs, moans, and mewls filling the silence of the dark, empty room.

"fuck," lee know cursed under his breath as he picked up his pace, you were clenching around his fat cock so good and after just a few thrusts, he was already so close to reaching his climax. "why are you so quiet now, hm? did the cat get your tongue?" he leaned in closer to put a soft kiss on your lips, prying them open and gently biting your tongue. "hm?" he pulled away.

it's that condescending 'hm' again that gets you. what used to irritate you so much turned you on right now even more.

"hngg...n.. pl- please..." you whimpered. "please, let me cum," you silently begged, voice being interrupted with each harsh thrust lee know pushed into you, you were getting closer and closer to cumming and you just wanted lee know to let you.

"oh, you're begging? that's so unexpected of a spoiled brat who always gets what they want." lee know abruptly pulled out and roughly grabbed your hair, pushing your head into the couch. "but you're not getting it tonight, understand?"

before you could form another response, another weak plead, a form had walked into the room and turned on the bright lights. "WOAAAAH, WHAT THE FUCK?!" bang chan screeched, you and lee know looked over to see him covering his eyes. "FOR GOD'S SAKE, PEOPLE, GET A ROOM." he sobbed and left the room in a rush. lee know chuckled a bit before getting off of you, zipping up, and walking back to his dorm.

"i guess we'll pick this up another time."

minnie.

you fucking hated kim seungmin. he was the bane of your existence and making fun of you was the entertainment of his. tripping you, judging your every major life decision and move, and overall making your life a living hell. today, you were at the dorm to rant to changbin about your recent breakup, and seungmin just had to be in the same room, making his coffee and listening on the conversation.

"you need to focus on yourself," changbin advised with a soft voice, gently rubbing your back as you gripped your hair in frustration. "i need to use the toilet real quick, be back." he left the room.

"what was it about you that's so unlovable?" seungmin suddenly inquired as he walked in the room leaning on the doorframe as he stirred his coffee. "is it because you're an asshole? or because you suck overall?... wait... oh, shittt." seungmin covered his mouth, standing up straight. "are you just straight up awful in bed?"

"dude, do you ever just shut the fuck up?" you slammed your hand on the table.

"if you ever need help to learn how to be better in bed, just know i'm right here to-"

"seungmin, i swear, leave the room right now before anything else happens. i'm not in the mood."

"y/n, no joke, i fuck." he placed his cup down on the table and sat in front of you, cross legged. "c'mon, what do you need help with?"

"it's not the sex-" you paused and started to think about it. "i...is it?" you tilted your head.

"come on," seungmin gestured for you to come to him, and subconsciously you found yourself doing so, crawling closer until you were in his lap. "what is it you need help with?" he repeated the earlier question, only this time he was softer, sweeter. unlike the seungmin you always knew.

you were nervous, so you just shook your head.

"use your words, baby." he whispered.

just as you were gonna respond to him, you felt his boner against yourself and you couldn't form a coherent thought. "i- i..." your voice was breathy and you tried to pry yourself off of him out of your anxiety, but his grip kept you in place. "i don't know..." you managed to say.

"can i kiss you?" he asked.

you nodded your head, and he gently connected your lips together in a silent bliss before deepening the kiss, he pulled away to mumble, "i'm gonna teach you a few things tonight." before smashing your lips back together. why is such an asshole so good at kissing? the whole situation turned you on to a point where you felt a little guilty, but you started slowly grinding on seungmin's hard-on, letting out small moans into his mouth.

"okay, y/n—" changbin walked into the room. "woah- woah," he rushed over and dragged you away from seungmin. "Y/N! I LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR TWO MINUTES AND YOU ALREADY TRY TO HOOK UP WITH YOUR ENEMY?!"

i.nnie

you and i.n constantly fought for the position of best maknae and it went from a harmless fight for the love of your seniors to a personal vendetta against one another. you would bicker over the pettiest stuff like getting the last of the juice or who gets to use the tv remote, but each argument would last from hours to days or even weeks before you find a new thing to be petty about and fight over.

today, what you were fighting over was different. the topic went from "who was the better kisser?" to "who was the best at having sex?"

"why? i've had many people tell me that i 'rock their world.' it's equal pleasure for both parties when i'm there, they don't have to fake it just as i don't." you argued.

"so what? words are words." i.n nonchalantly shrugged and disregarded your argument. "i bet you i can fake cumming if i fucked you." he blurted out.

"really? wanna bet?" you smirked, taking a step toward him. you could see him nervously gulp his saliva.

and that's how you ended up in his bed, with you sitting down on his fully hard cock. "shit." i.n whimpered. "i- i didn't know a- a slut like you could be so tight..." he held back his groan.

"awh... are you gonna cum already? i thought you could fake it..." you taunted as you bounced once on his dick.

"w-wait!" i.n leaned forward and grabbed your hips in place, looking down in between you and how you connected. "j-just wait." he whispered. you looked into each other's eyes for a moment before he used his strength to pull you off of him, he flipped you over and pushed his dick back inside you. "i wanna fuck you."

"hey— that wasn't the deal, i was supposed to be the one who-" i.n put his hand over your mouth and began pounding into you relentlessly, you wanted to interject but it felt too good.

"just tap me twice if you don't like it." he whispered and kept his hand over your mouth before slipping three of his fingers inside and playing with your tongue and saliva. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the quiet room, i.n went faster and faster thrusting inside you. you whimpered against his fingers and he did his best to keep his moans quiet, only letting out occassional sighs and groans.

you could feel your high approaching and you could tell i.n was also reaching his with how his pace became inconsistent and a bit jittery. "sh...shit..." he whimpered as he came into you, and you were about to reach your climax as well when the door abruptly slammed open, causing i.n to stop his movement and you both snapped your heads toward the man standing in the frame — fucking seungmin.

"yo, hey, hEy, hEY, HEY, WHAT ARE YOU DOiNG?!" his voice cracked as he processed the sight before him, pointing at the two of you i.n leaned over and grabbed a pillow next to your head.

"GET OUT!" he yelled, reaching for the sheets to cover you up.

"GET OFF OF EACH OTHER FIRST!" seungmin made no effort in covering his eyes (for his or your sake) or lowering his voice as he stared, wide-eyed at the sight.

"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!"

#stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #seungmin x reader #i.n x reader #bang chan smut #lee know smut #skz felix #seungmin smut #i.n smut #jeongin smut

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chairofchaos · 4 months ago

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Even In the Dark

Pairing: Cassian x You (Y/N but no Y/N use! Uses she/her pronouns) Summary: Cassian comes home to a mate in pain, and does everything he can to help. Rating: Teen Word Count: 3.7k Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, heavy emphasis on the comfort for those of you who have been burned by me one too many times, mild sexual content and discussions (I think that covers it but as usual, if I have forgotten anything please let me know!) A/N: Happy Cassian Appreciation Week! @cassianappreciationweek Shoutout to @tsunami-of-tears for the lovely Illyrian wing dividers. Enjoy!

Something was amiss in his home. Cassian noticed it the second he opened the door, stomping and wiping his boots on the doormat before stepping inside.

Your boots were there, dry and untouched, exactly as they had been this morning. As the day was coming to a close much like its stormy beginning, it surprised him to see the umbrellas showed no sign of use.

There was silence. Cassian’s brows furrowed. You spent rainy days singing. You liked storms, would dance and sing in the rain when it wasn’t too cold (and even, on occasion, when it was).

He bent to untie his boots, nearly ripping at the laces in an increasing worry. If he wouldn’t have been worried about dirtying the floors, he would have forgone the step all together. He worked in the darkness, his last clue that all was not as it should be.

No candlelight flickered against the wall. No scent of vanilla, or cinnamon, or mahogany swirled about him. Mahogany. The scent you had proclaimed was your favorite because it reminded you of him.

You saved it for days like this, days when you would be inside more than you liked. You told him it meant none of its light or scent would be wasted. That you would be able to sit in a reminder of him all day.

“I’ll buy you a hundred. Light them every day,” he had told you earnestly.

You had laughed. “Once I finish all the rest that you’ve bought me, I’ll let you buy me as many as you wish.”

He hadn’t argued. You had a rather impressive collection spread throughout the home you shared. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.

Boots finally off, he placed them next to yours, the appearance of his large muddy boots striking against the considerably smaller, clean pair beside them.

He walked down the hallway, peering into room after room, but knowing somehow that he would not find you on this level, in the kitchen, or the dining room; the living room or the office, no matter how much he hoped he would. When there was no sign of you, he wound slowly up the stairs at the end of the hall.

There. The bedroom door was shut. It solidified his concern. No light crept from beneath the door; no sound of your movement reached his ears. He ignored the open doorways to other rooms and strode quickly to enter yours.

Darkness met him. The room was as dark as it could be, given that the little light the storm might have allowed to filter through the window was blocked entirely by the heavy outer curtains.

On good days, those stayed open. The typical curtains before the window were a light gauzy material through which sunlight could flow. On the bad days, Cassian knew, the heavy curtains would close with a flick of your hand. They were a wall of thick fabrics to keep light and sound from your presence.

The tonics you took daily helped keep the episodes at bay, but not always. He stepped inside quickly and as quietly as his body would allow.

“My love,” he whispered. You gave no answer. He prayed you were asleep. It was often the only respite you had on days like this.

But that was too much to ask of the Mother, apparently. As he waited, a broken sob wrenched from your body followed by a whimper of pain. Whether it was from the movement the sob required or the sound itself, he didn’t know.

That was enough. He crossed to you slowly, trying to keep his footsteps from making any noise. The faint light of the bioluminescent clock hands reflected in the bottles beside your bed. It was the only light you allowed, its presence necessary to keep track of the hourly doses of pain relief you could take. He counted those bottles quickly, bit back a snarl of anger, then swore at what he found.

Six empty bottles. Six full bottles sat beside them. His anger wasn’t at you. The amount of pain you were in scared him. Twelve doses of tonic were all the healers would allow you to keep on your own. For mild episodes, one to three bottles sufficed. Six was pushing it. If this episode lasted beyond eight doses, Cassian would have no choice but to summon the healers for more help.

Your breath trembled from your lungs, shuddering on the shallow inhale and measured, calculated on the exhale. Nausea. He would bet anything you were trying to temper it with as steady breathing as you could manage. That was one symptom the tonics could never address, as you were allergic to the one herb that wouldn’t interact with the ingredients for pain relief you so desperately needed.

A faint rustle from the bed drew his attention. Your hand, extended to him. A request.

He placed his hand gently over yours, palm down so you could fingerspell your request into his hand. You had learned together, needing a way to communicate when you were in too much agony to speak.

H-E-A-L-E-R, you spelled slowly. He stiffened, his eyebrows raising. You had half the doses left. A quick request, ‘Lie w me’, followed. You never asked for him to send for the healer. Not until you had finished every single tonic.

Cassian waited until you withdrew your hand, tucking it back under your pillow to support your head. Quietly, he stood to fulfill your needs, walking around the bed before disrobing to his underwear. His clothes were cold. It would not help you, and he should let his skin warm a tad before joining you. But first - Cassian reached out in his mind to his brother.

Rhys.

Yes?

She needs help. She asked, this time.

It's that bad?

Yes.

I'll send them. Let me know if there is anything we can do.

I will. Thank you.

Of course. Good luck, Cassian.

No response would come until help arrived, one of three healers he, Nesta, and Feyre had vetted and assigned specifically to help you through these episodes when they had become more frequent a few years ago. The healers kept keys to your home so they could come and go as needed without making any more noise than was required. One of them was always on call.

Climbing into bed was always the hardest part. He had a choice. Do it quickly, and your pain could be sharp but brief. Do it slowly, and he may drag out your agony.

You had told him once after an episode that the shifting of the mattress beneath you caused your head to splinter into pieces. He had said he would sleep on the couch, a chair by your side, even the floor if it would keep you from pain. You had shaken your head.

“What I need most in those moments is you beside me. The warmth of your body in the blankets is soothing. Hearing the steadiness of your breathing gives me something to cling to, a standard I can use to measure my own breathing; to measure the passage of time without having to open my eyes.”

But he would not touch you. Not unless you asked. That was your one request, that he lay there, close enough for you to hear, but never to touch you unless you specifically requested it.

“My body often feels as if it’s on fire,” you responded when he asked about the experience after the first time he witnessed it. “It’s agonizing. My head feels as if it’s being wrenched in two or more pieces, my skin is aflame. My stomach roils, and I cannot seem to breathe without complete concentration.”

“And with me beside you?” He had asked.

You had managed to squeak out the request that first time, though it led to you throwing up beside the bed not two minutes later. He had cleaned it up, and then joined you, lying as far from you as possible as you choked out the need to have him there, but away.

“It centers me. Gives me something to focus on other than the pain.”

“But if you feel like you’re on fire, wouldn’t a cold compress help? Some ice, perhaps?”

You had sighed. “In my experience, it only causes a different sort of pain. I know for some it helps. In my case, I find it forces my body to fight harder against the sensation and drains me more quickly. I wish it did, but it never seems to help as much as it hurts.”

That first episode he had witnessed had terrified him. He had spent the night with you in his room at the townhouse, the both of you tangled in each other for hours before sleep caught up to you both. He was in heaven. But as he woke, he had been thrust into his own personal hell.

He hadn’t realized how much he loved you until he saw you with sweat beading at your forehead as your whimpers woke him. The panic that filled him immediately flowed in perfect synchronicity with the knowledge that he would do anything to help you.

The light flowed freely through his windows. The sounds of the city filtered in freely. He had curtains, but they were not designed for the kind of darkness you needed. They quenched no sound. It was not enough.

And you lay there, crying, as he sat up. He remembered it with horror now. He could recall it all, including all the things he had unknowingly done wrong.

“What’s wrong?” He had asked. You had whimpered, tensing. He sat up entirely, reaching to stroke your arm. You had only cried harder, tears streaming from between your tightly closed eyelids.

He had sat up quickly to analyze you better. He had kept asking you questions at full volume. He remembered how he hadn’t thought to block the light with his wing. How he had tried to reach for you, leading to your agonized words begging him not to, pleading with him to get a healer. He had jumped from the bed to do so, hearing your retching from behind him a minute or so after. He had spun back to you, but you waved him off, tearful eyes pleading him to do as you had asked.

So much had gone wrong that time.

He was fortunate he knew about your allergy, glad you had mentioned it offhand at dinner three weeks previous. It had only been your third date, but it had come up somehow. Had he not known, you could have died from the tonic the healer brought for you. In the end, Rhys was summoned in the early afternoon to push you into unconsciousness and put you out of your misery. Nothing else had helped. You slept for over a full day, not waking for anything.

He had kept vigil over you in his bed, not knowing how to help. Rhys had come and gone, checking in and bringing food and water for both of you, though your tray was exactly the same on the way out the door as it had come in.

You had awoken at dusk the next day. You had stretched with a groan which startled Cassian from his fitful dozing.

“My love,” he had whispered incoherently.

You blinked with a little yawn as you looked over at him. It took you a minute to orient yourself and frown.

“Cassian.”

“Sweetheart,” he said in response, eyes filling with tears at the ease with which you spoke his name. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. “I am,” your nod turned into a shake of your head. “I am so sorry.” He tracked each movement, but no wince or whimper followed. There was no visible indication of pain.

He was so lost in looking for any sign of your discomfort that it took him a few moments to respond. “Don’t be sorry. Are you certain you’re alright?”

“Yes,” you gave him a shaky smile. He wanted to crush you in his arms but had learned through your words and your pained cries that any contact would hurt, so instead he gripped the arms of his chair.

While you didn’t look as though you were in pain, embarrassment was written all over your face. Still, discussion needed to wait. He got you food and water, and a fresh shirt of his to change into.

Once he had taken your empty tray away, he looked inquisitively at where you sat propped up in his bed. “What happened?” He asked quietly.

You had indulged his question. Some things you knew could trigger the episodes, so you avoided them. Bright lights or loud noises for long periods of time. Sleep deprivation. Cassian had held in a flinch at that, knowing he had kept you up until nearly three in the morning.

Stress, built up over a period of time, was the most common instigator. He recalled your words from dinner the night before, about the hard deadline you were facing for an investigation into a trading company that had seemingly been avoiding tariffs. He had reached for your hand unthinkingly when it had clenched on the bedspread beside you, unable to withhold the only comfort he had to offer.

You had sighed and gripped his hand gratefully. “Can I hold you?” He had asked, stroking his thumb slowly from your wrist to your knuckles. Your nod was the only assent he needed before scooping you gently up from the bed and climbing in, settling you in his lap with your head tucked under his chin.

“I’m sorry for causing you trouble,” you whispered, tracing a hand lightly across his chest.

“It was no trouble.”

“I took away half your weekend. You had plans.”

“They weren’t anywhere near as important as this. I rescheduled.”

“Still -“

“No, my love,” he shook his head, the endearment slipping from his lips without thinking. He hadn’t notice you tense up at the words, and continued, “You needed help. I wasn’t leaving you.”

“Cassian,” his name fell like a breath from your lips.

“Hmm?” Now he noticed. You sat still as possible in his lap. Your hand had stopped its gentle tracing. He dipped his head to look at you, but you didn’t meet his gaze.

“You called me ‘my love’.”

“If it upsets you, I am sorry. But it is the truth.” A flush settled across your cheeks, and he continued, “I love you. Your pain felt like it was a part of me. I began to love you weeks ago, and I knew this morning... I love you.” His words were cut short by the quick raise of your head and the settling of your fingers over his lips. Your cheeks flushed, lower lip rolled between your teeth.

“I love you,” you said quietly. “Very much.”

He laughed softly at that, loosely grabbing your wrist to press kisses against it. “Well. Thank the cauldron for that.”

It was your turn to laugh, and you wiggled to face him. The darkness had truly fallen, stars glimmering through the still uncovered windows.

Cassian lay beside his love, watching the pained breaths, the occasional twitch of spasming muscles causing the quilt to shift.

The door opened slowly, letting the tiniest sliver of light in as a short male stepped into the room. Mirvyn, the head healer on your team. The light glimmered against his glasses before he shut the door again. He moved silently with the practiced footsteps of a cautious male.

Cassian knew the healer recognized his presence. They didn’t acknowledge each other in the darkness. Your hand reached for Cassian’s, gripping it until your nails bit into his skin.

The healer began to work, administering a more potent treatment that could be injected into your arm. You hated it, every second, but it was the only thing that seemed to help you.

You had lay like this for hours. Cassian knew the pain you must be in to have asked for the healer when you had taken only six vials of tonic. When you didn’t respond to the prick of the needle in your shoulder, he knew getting the healer been the right call.

You were asleep within minutes. The healer began to check you, your breathing, your heart, anything he could learn from your pain signatures. He sighed.

Just like every other time, Cassian knew. Nothing to be done. That was the most frustrating piece. Aside from avoiding the things which could trigger the episodes and taking your daily tonics, there was nothing you could do. None of the healers could find a single thing wrong with your body, even as you fell to pieces from the pain.

The healer walked around to Cassian’s side of the bed and bent to whisper, “I'll return in an hour to check on her, then stay in the guest room if you need me for anything else."

Cassian whispered his thanks in return. All they could do was wait. A silent vigil for the love of his life to return to comfort in her own body. A silent sorrow for the pain she must feel.

It was his greatest sorrow, that he couldn't share the pain. He didn't even know its extent. You were not his mate. You were beloved, but he could not understand or protect you. Hours, you would lay, knowing you could call for help. Struggling to decide whether it was bad enough.

A little over six hours, and a healer. Today was bad. He would wait.

Cassian quietly asked the healer to sit with you for a little bit when he returned. He went downstairs, made two sandwiches, and ate one as quickly as possible. You had told him once that him not taking care of himself did you no favors. He had promised he would not neglect himself, so he ate. He did it quickly, because he would not leave you longer than he had to.

The other sandwich he left on the counter with an empty glass. This healer liked the sandwiches, and he knew where you stored all your drinks. He could help himself.

He filled a large pitcher of water and walked up the stairs once more with the pitcher and two glasses. If you got thirsty, there would be water for you. It was the one thing he could do that he felt in control of. He didn't like how insignificant it felt. Still, you told him waking up and seeing a pitcher of water there, the one thing you usually forgot, always made you feel cared for.

Mirvyn had heard Cassian coming, and met him right outside the bedroom door.

"She's still asleep. Her vitals are steady, but for her to have called, I am concerned. Be careful. Sleep. The spell will let you know if anything is truly amiss, but if you sense anything out of the ordinary, come get me," the healer cautioned. "Often your senses will kick in before the spell will recognize it as an issue."

Cassian nodded. "I know. Can you tell how this compares to her last bad episode?"

The healer sighed, pulling his glasses off to clean them before replacing them on the bridge of his nose. "Cassian, it's about the same this time. I'm still surprised she hadn't passed out already, but by my measurements it's about the same."

"She seemed..." Cassian shook his head with a grimace. "It seemed even worse. She's everything to me, Mirvyn. If anything happens to her..."

"I know. We all know. Take care of yourself, Cassian. If either of you need anything, I'll be down the hall."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Sleep. He would sleep, and more importantly, you would sleep. In the morning, you would be alright. He had to believe it.

Cassian woke first, approximately twelve hours later. It was unsurprising. He woke before you on the good days, too. So he waited, his hand in the space between you in case you decided in your sleep that you wished to hold it. You would wake soon enough, if you felt better. Cassian wouldn't let himself think of the alternative.

"Cassian," you whispered.

"My love," he greeted you quietly.

"May I have some water?"

He smiled. "Of course."

You sat up while he retrieved your glass, filling it with careful precision in the darkness.

"Here."

You gulped it down before handing your glass back to him. "Thank you."

He nodded, replacing the glass and the pitcher. "How do you feel?"

"Well enough," you sighed. "A bit of a residual headache."

"That's good," he smiled.

"Yeah. Hold me?" You asked. After the first time, you always asked.

"Of course. Always." He climbed into bed beside you, scooping you into his arms as he sat against the headboard. Once you had sat up, you often didn't want to lay down again. Changing from laying to sitting to laying again so quickly had seemed to do odd things, and now you avoided it at all costs.

"Thank you," you whispered, settling your head against his chest.

"You're welcome."

"I love you, Cassian."

"I love you, too," he hummed. "Mirvyn is here."

"I know. I remember him coming in last night."

"Remember anything else?"

"Other than you coming home, not really. Everything else is blurry."

"That's alright," he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "That's everything important."

You laughed. "Oh? the important things, you coming home, and Mirvyn showing up?"

"Yeah," Cassian couldn't help but laugh.

"I heard that swear, you know. When you saw the tonic bottles."

"I was worried," he protested. "I'm always worried when you're sick."

"And? Foul language," you teased in return. "Ghastly, nasty language. You kiss me with that mouth, you know."

"And you love the things this mouth does," he teased in return. You were happy. You were fine.

You hummed your acknowledgement, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I do. I love the male its attached to more, though."

Soon, you were both quietly laughing, intermittently interrupting each other for gentle kisses. It was the best ending for what had been unbearable just hours before. This was Cassian's favorite. The calm between the storms, when you were yourself, in his arms.

You deserved this every morning, every day. This peace. This lightness of heart. In the meantime, he would love you, even in the dark.

A/N: I am by no means a definitive authority on migraines or chronic illness. I do, however, suffer from migraines. This is based largely on my own experience, though I've never had the benefit of a Cassian in my life and frankly, even if I did, the last thing I might want is someone anywhere near me.

All that aside, I wanted to explore what Cassian the Lover might feel when his beloved was in pain. And what better way to do that than with an indulgent fic?

Additionally, I felt it was important to acknowledge that it takes a village. Sometimes, the best thing your person can do for you is to be there and help you ask for help. I may not have a Cassian in my life, but I have many a Mirvyn, and many incredibly supportive people. I am very, very grateful for every single one of them.

I hope you enjoyed the fic, and that you enjoy the rest of your lovely Cassian week! Don't forget to give cassianappreciationweek and maased-out a follow so you can stay up to date with future fandom events for your writing and reading pleasure!

All my love,

Chaos

P.S. I reblog a lot. Want to see the fics without any chaos? Totally cool! @fictionalchaos is the place to be!

Permanent Taglist: @ninthcircleofprythian @c-starstuff-man0 @dusk-muse @lilah-asteria As always: If you want on or off of the taglist, let me know!

#cassian fanfiction #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian the lover #cassian appreciation week #cassian appreciation week 2024 #cassian week 2024 #fictionalchaos #my work

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90sbee · 10 months ago

Text

Sometimes a saviour is a soldier afraid of peace

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

4.4k words. Also on ao3.

He looks at her in quiet admiration.

He doesn’t deserve her. But again, he doesn’t really deserve anything. He already has gotten too much: spoiled by the sweet possibility of life when all his comrades have fallen, their bodies twisted, mangled by titans and enemies alike.

Levi hardly cries, but he wants to cry in that moment. She turns on the stove for him, and rummages through his cabinets. She finds two cups and a sob is trapped inside his throat.

He doesn’t fucking understand why she stays, why she puts up with his sorry ass but, damn it. Damn it if he at least doesn’t try.

The war is over, but the demons still haunt Levi. Luckily for him, the last member of his Squad seems focused on remaining by his side as they both face this new enemy: peace.

This was !!! My first fic written in English, actually. Also my first (and only time so far) writing for aot. Levi is such an angsty angel, and this story wouldn’t leave my head, so I had to end up writing it, ofc. This has been in the drafts for... months. Too many months already. And tbh I'm not a fan of how it came out. But. Posting it in case someone else can enjoy Levi finally getting some love and comfort, sjsjs.

Content: Use of 3rd person pronouns. No use of y/n. Mostly Levi's pov. Reader was part of his Squad. Post!Rumbling Levi. Written with the manga ending in mind. A lot of fluff, rude Levi even if he doesn't mean it (but reader knows he means no harm). Healing. Spooning (Levi as the little spoon btw. He deserves it).

Warnings: depressive thoughts, self confidence issues. Mentions of past violence (but nothing gruesome, it's all in passing). SFW. No beta reader we die like everybody in Aot here.

They always meet. Every single day, she leaves her little flat to find him near the fountain in the Marleyan park, eager to push his wheelchair and pass some time with him.

Levi doesn’t understand. When Onyankopon, or Falco, or Gabi let her take the wheelchair, he just ponders. He could understand why they would accompany him: because he is old? because they feel pity of him?… But her?

Nonetheless, every single afternoon, she comes to him. He doesn’t recall when this custom began. It’s like slowly, but surely, she started digging a place into his routine. She was part of his remaining squad, and he really didn’t see any point to her bubbling-self still being by his side.

Still, he appreciates her visits. She exchanges pleasantries with Gabi, already smiling. Why is she smiling?

“Hi, Captain,” she says. Should he feel mocked? He isn’t a captain anymore and the title feels too much, even if it’s comforting in some way. Levi doesn’t reply. He just nods, silently acknowledging her presence. “Is it okay if we go to the stalls for a while, Captain?” She inquires, as if it was the first time they did it, and not a weekly occurrence. His jaw tenses. He doesn’t understand, still. She surely pities him. She has to.

He agrees to her proposal, though.

“Sure,” he replies, barely any emotion on his face.

She smiles at him. For a moment, they look at each other. She sees that familiar scarred face, a grey eye gazing into her soul. He sees the older face of her remaining squad member, some wrinkles next to her eyes, her figure dressed in green. For some reason, he liked that colour on her.

He doesn’t share that with her, though.

“Let’s get going,” she adds, a little chuckle in her voice — he can hear it — as she starts pushing the wheelchair. They check out the little shops that are already so familiar. Sometimes she signals a piece of jewellery or clothes. She asks for his opinion, or points at a silly artwork, in hopes of making him laugh.

When the cold starts to set in, she stops them in front of a coffee shop.

“Wait here a second, Captain,” she tells him.

“Where would I go, anyway?” He wants to say, snarky, but he doesn’t really bother in opening his mouth. He stays silent still, perking his head up to see what’s she’s doing.

“Oi. coffee?” He complains.

She directs her gaze to him and chuckles, paying the vendor.

“I know you like tea but it’s time to broaden your horizons,” she explains. She comes up to him again, and hands him one of the cups. He sighs, but accepts the drink still.

“What is it this time?”

“Just chocolate. Hot chocolate,” she answers, already sipping hers. She lets out a content sigh when the warmth of it starts to fill her belly.

“I don’t like chocolate,” Levi mutters under his breath. He is lying and she knows it.

“Tsk. That’s not true. Everybody likes chocolate.”

“… Fine,” he sips his drink and, admittedly, enjoys it. She hands him her drink so she can push the wheelchair again, and he takes it, guarding both cups on his lap, a familiar action for the two of them now.

“Where do we go?” She asks.

Levi shrugs. “As if I had a choice.”

She looks at him still, and when he can see her, barely from his peripheral vision, he sees a softer face. She’s waiting for his reply. He looks at her, looks at her lips. She isn’t smiling anymore. Levi sighs, suddenly feeling guilty.

He doesn’t understand still why she does this for him.

“Captain?” She says, just above a whisper, since there are people around them and they both just want to have a calm evening, without the risk of being recognised.

Levi nods before he even opens his mouth.

“The bridge.”

“Good,” she agrees as he sips from his drink again, guided by her. He does feel warmer. Levi inspects the people around him in silence, letting himself be carried, taken to a nicer place. “Hange would have like this,” he thinks. He looks down to suddenly realise he is clenching his fist, hard. “If you could even call it a hand…”

“We’re here, Captain,” she announces, letting his wheelchair rest next to a bench, overlooking the water. She takes a seat next to him, and Levi hands her the drink. He wonders if she noticed how tense he’s been feeling today.

“Be quick with that, brat, or it will get cold,” he warns, as if to pre-emptively shut down any words from her. He’s not sure he could handle it.

She just nods.

“It’s still warm,” she mentions after a moment.

The sunset is taking its place on the sky, a beautiful palette of oranges and pinks against a very flat horizon. A reminder of what was once lost.

“Good,” he says.

Levi looks at her. She is still looking forward, features illuminated by the falling sun, breeze caressing her face. There is something in his heart that aches, but he doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t dare to. Levi is old, too old, and too broken. And she only pities him.

He coughs to catch her attention, though.

“Hmh, yeah?” She immediately says.

“I heard the Scouts were going back to Paradis tomorrow,” he begins, the question lingering in the air. The small group was leaving first time in the morning.

“Yep.”

Levi blinks, expecting her to say more, but she doesn’t. He doesn’t want to ask. It feels… too much. He feels too exposed doing that, lower lip trembling.

“Are you going?” He finally dares to ask.

She turns back to him again, and looks at him with the sweetest gaze. Levi doesn’t miss how she looks at his lips first.

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have anything there,” she replies, matter-of-factly. Levi wants to hit his head against something, still uncertain about what that means. Does that mean that she has something here? Someone?

She must notice his doubts, so she lowers her gaze. “I mean. You know I lost my family during my first years as a Scout. And knowing that we tried to stop Eren… All the military forces in the island won’t be very happy to see me. Or any of us. I’ve done my part. I do not want more fighting.”

“… Right”. That still doesn’t answer his question, but it is enough to satisfy his curiosity without seeming to eager. He sips his drink again: it’s getting colder.

“You didn’t want to go, Captain?” There it was again, that fucking title that felt like a joke. He chuckles, not looking at her anymore but rather at the sunset.

“Why do you still call me like that?” He spits back.

“Captain?”

“Yeah,” His tone is unintentionally rude, but he can’t help it, not even around her.

“Well… It’s a sign of respect, don’t you think?”

Levi chuckles, amused.

“I never took you for a polite person.” He doesn’t want to look at her still. She hasn’t added anything, said anything else. What is she thinking of?

She looks at him. There’s a warmth in her belly which has nothing to do with the chocolate anymore. She knows: Her Captain has been way more vulnerable and open since the Rumbling. The little gestures that he could so easily hide before are now an open book. Or at least she feels that way, since she was always one to look at him.

It was so easy to just… stare at him. Admire him in every sense of the word, even now. When they were both soldiers they would fight alongside each other, against innumerable dangers. He was barely visible in the spectrum: always so fast, always so precise. A ray of dark hair and strong limbs, destroying everything to provide peace, to provide protection.

There was no point in denying how she felt about him… Except, maybe, to him.

“I don’t think I would like going back to Paradis,” she finally adds, finishing her drink. He seems to reflect on that idea for a moment, before nodding. He wants to ask why but he doesn’t dare to. “I’m just… comfortable here,” she finishes with a sigh. “This is okay.”

“That’s good,” he says, barely a spark of enthusiasm in his voice, but enough for her to notice.

She looks up at him again. And he feels tiny and scared suddenly, because she looks at him with wonder and care. Levi doesn’t mean to, but he ends up letting his drink fall from his hands, whether due to his nervousness or the state of his hand after the war.

“Shit,” he spits, upset.

“Sh, it’s alright, Captain.” In a second she is picking up the cup, handing him a handkerchief to dry his hands. She walks a few steps to throw both cups into a trashcan and is again, by his side. Such a quick interaction so as to ease his shame, he could notice it. “Are you alright?”

Levi still doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why she still treats him with such respect, why she seems to care so much for him. But he wants to find out, somehow. He barely nods, but she notices it.

“Good,” she says, while taking the handkerchief back. She is about to put it into her bag again when she feels a hand grabbing hers.

Levi.

He doesn’t even say anything. He doesn’t know how. She seems to understand, though, squeezing his hand, softly. Levi quickly lets her hand go, his cheeks going red. She gets behind the wheelchair again, as the sun is about to disappear, and Levi can hear her chuckling.

“Let’s get you home, Captain.”

He stays quiet, unsure if he could even say something useful.

There’s so much he doesn’t know how to say. How to do.

While she is pushing his chair he notices it again. A slight tremor in her right hand. “My wrist seems to ache lately… Must be from holding the blades for so many years,” she had explained in passing a couple weeks ago. He realises that it’s probably taking a strain on her to push him every fucking day.

“Oi,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Stop pushing me. I can handle it,” he explains, tone serious.

“Oh, no,” her hand is trembling still. “It’s fine, it’s no bother for me, Captain.”

“… It’s an order,” he commands after a moment. She stops in her tracks and he can hear a gentle laugh coming from behind him.

“It had been a while since that, huh.” Confidently, she places one of her hands on his shoulder, gently tapping it. Levi smiles. Barely curving his lips, but he does. He is about to be brave, hold her hand on his shoulder when she removes it from him. “Shit,” he thinks. “Too slow… Too slow? Slow for what? Tsk.”

Despite his missing fingers, he can still push his wheelchair quite properly. It also helps that he can see his street far ahead. She walks comfortably besides him, a silence and gentle ghost as his most devoted companion.

Yeah. There’s definitely something aching in his chest. He had been noticing the past days, feeling getting more painful as they both approach his place. And it has nothing to do with his faulty joints or damaged body or excessive age.

When they reach his door, she asks for his key. Levi gives it to her, his hand lingering for a second too long, reflecting on the brief touch of hands as she grabs it to unlock the door.

He is tired.

And he feels incredibly silly when he realises he doesn’t want her to leave.

“There we go, Captain. I help you in?” she suggests with a bright smile, opening the door.

“… Yes.”

She steps inside and pushes the chair into his living room, almost getting it next to his couch.

“That’s enough” he decides, in a semblance of independency he still wants to maintain.

She nods. “Okay… I guess… I’ll get going, Captain.”

Levi lifts up his gaze. He wants to ask… He wants to know… He savours her image for a moment, her tired expression and the way her dress now looks clumsy and wrinkled but he doesn’t care. Before, before everything had ended up like this he would remind every single cadet to iron their uniforms, all the outfits presentable, so as to look like respectable soldiers and honourable bodies if the occasion arose. Now she can have the privilege of looking messy. Of not worrying about death so often.

“No,” he mutters.

“Huh?” she inquires, taking a step forward.

“Shit,” Levi thinks. “I… I want tea,” he makes up a quick lie.

“Oh, sure. Yes, Captain.” She leaves her bag on the couch and goes into the kitchen, getting a kettle full of water.

He looks at her in quiet admiration.

Levi hardly cries, but he wants to cry in that moment. She turns on the stove for him, and rummages through his cabinets. She finds two cups and a sob is trapped inside his throat.

He doesn’t fucking understand why she stays, why she puts up with his sorry ass but, damn it. Damn it if he at least doesn’t try.

He stands up. His body still holds that ability, though his legs get tired rather quickly. He can still walk, so he does until he reaches the kitchen. She is still deciding on the teas when she sees him.

“Oh, no, Captain, please, just don’t…”

He interrupts her, grabs her waist carelessly and pushes her towards the couch, barely moving her.

“Let me handle it myself.”

“Levi…” She whispers, their faces inches apart.

“Go. Sit,” he mumbles, biting his lips and sending his eyes lower, so as to avoid her face.

“Are you sure?” She inquires a moment after, still close to him. He notices she has a hand on his waist as well, a protective aid making sure he stays on two feet.

“Yes,” he says, more commanding this time. He grabs that hand of hers and pushes her away gently now.

She nods, understandingly.

“I’ll be in the living room,” she adds.

Levi nods at her, making sure she finally gets that ass of hers in the couch. He is now faced with his kitchen. Most of the cups and teas, everything has been moved lower, so as to accommodate to his wheelchair. Slowly, he kneels, searching for a specific flavour for her. When he finally finds the peppermint and rose one, he mentally cheers. He stands up again, slowly, as if to show confidence, making sure from his peripheral view that she isn’t coming to his aid.

She isn’t. He catches her averting her eyes, though. A confirmation that she has been staring.

He decides to stare as well. Supporting himself on his weakened legs, he waits for the kettle to boil, while looking at her. It’s as if she could notice that, because her head doesn’t move, still fixated on an indescriptible point in his living room.

“Oi, what you looking at?” He says, a bit more light-hearted.

A smile forms on her lips before she even turns her head towards him. She doesn’t answer. Just keeps smiling at him.

“Fuck,” he thinks when he realises he has also slightly curved his lips.

Quickly he turns towards the stove, the kettle already boiling. Levi carefully fills the cups with water, letting the leaves rest. He lifts his gaze up to her for a second but it is already enough for her to notice.

“Need help with the cups?” Her, always so worried, so in tune with his needs. No need for words.

“Of fucking course.”

Still, the only answer he gives her is a polite nod. She stands up, approaching him.

“I’ll handle it, Captain. Just take a seat.”

He lets out a sigh, taking himself to the couch and plopping himself there.

“It’s hard,” Levi thinks as he sees her come back to the living room, two cups in her hands. He accepts the drink, his gaze not leaving her features. “I… I can’t.”

He knows he can’t accept kindness: he doesn’t know how to. Still, he tenses his jaw and forces himself to sip the tea as she takes a seat next to him.

“Peppermint, huh?” She hums mostly to herself.

“… Yeah,” comes out of his mouth, unsure, less braver than expected. Is he insecure? Has he made a mistake?

“Good choice” She declares and he breathes again, realising that he had been holding his breath. “Bet you already knew that, right?” She adds, cocking her head.

Levi looks at her again. He has been avoiding her eyes but he hadn’t been trained as a soldier to back down in times of peace.

“I did,” he says, his tone firm, a very weak attempt at showing confidence still. “It’s the one you would always ask for when we would have meetings with the Scouts.”

“It’s good tea.” Her tone seems softer now.

Levi hums, too deep inside his mind to notice it.

She wonders. Wonders if he has ever realized that the only reason she would wander through the headquarters late at night was just to be found and reprimanded by him, the way she would be easily entertained by Levi’s stern face. Wondered if Hange had ever told him about the time she had fallen asleep in their office and woke up, mumbling his name, much to Hange’s delight, though they had promised to keep it a secret.

He looks down at his legs, at his carpeted floor.

He wonders if she had ever noticed the way he would mindlessly lick his lips after looking at her, the boring uniform suddenly a beautiful outfit, making her stand out. Wonders if it was too late to tell her that, yes, after Hange and her had found him, and stitched him up, that he had heard every single word she had uttered near his heart, softly pressing her timid hands on his chest. There hadn’t been time then to discuss anything or even think if it had meant anything else than old scouts being protective of each other, but now…

They finish their teas in silence. It isn’t uncomfortable, rather the opposite, despite the fact that Levi has started nervously tapping his feet against the floor. It is dark outside already, the light from the lamps flowing into Levi’s house, a dog barking a few blocks away.

She stands up, makes sure to wash her cup in the sink and put it away before returning to him.

“Captain?” She mutters. No need for more words.

Levi hands her the cup with slow movements, as if trying to prolong that insignificant action for as long as possible. And when she is already about to head into the kitchen, little plate and teacup in her hand, he decides to be brave. No more lying to himself, no more being a coward. Too many people have died, have bleed, have sacrificed the little they had for a selected group of survivors to be able to live. To enjoy the remaining Earth. For the little ones that survived to be able to find some meaning. Something worth all the pain.

Basking in the fear serves no one. In fact, makes all the death meaningless.

So, Levi looks up at her and grabs her hand, even if he is scared still. Trembling fingers dancing on hers until they secure her hand softly in his. He feels warm even if he doesn’t know what to say, how to convey what he feels. Such a shadow of the man he was. So stupid now.

Levi just wants her to say.

She gasps at the contact but quickly composes herself. A shy smile showing up on her face. They stay like that for a moment, neither daring to break the silence.

“Levi?” She asks after a moment, moving closer to his face, as if asking for permission.

He can only look at her lips in reply.

She shortens the distance between them and kisses him on his lips. It isn’t a big kiss, too flashy or provocative: just a tender contact between two broken people. As soon as he has processed what was going on, she has already moved forward, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

And then, even higher, another kiss on his forehead, her lips remaining close to his face. Levi can’t say anything. Barely reacting. But when she looks at his eyes, she is greeted by the sweet glimmer of tears in them.

Levi. Happy, at last.

And as if reading his mind, she utters: “Do you want me to stay, Levi?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

She complies. In the quiet, late hours of the night, Levi wakes up, his body feeling too rested already. It was a habit hard to break, he wouldn’t sleep much anyway. He sighs still, feeling her body pressing against his, holding him from behind. She has one hand on his shoulder, the other keeping him safe and secured, hugging his waist close. He dares to smile and grab that hand across his belly with both of his hands, so as to make sure that it is real: he is being held. There is someone else with him. Levi isn’t alone. Someone is taking care of him. Someone he’s been devoted to for so many years.

He wants to nuzzle up closer, hide in her chest or neck and feel more.

But he doesn’t dare to. He can’t allow himself to do that yet.

So he stays awake in silence, hearing the soothing and steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Levi still doesn’t understand, though.

He doesn’t want to think of why she has chosen him, how he got this privilege so late in his life, when all hope seems to be lost and the thought of a partner didn’t cross his mind at all. He also doesn’t know what to do with this gift, this blessing. Why? How? He is such a crippled shadow of what he used to be. Slow, so consumed by roughness and violence and so useless now.

He has always had something to fight for: his life, his friends, his Squad, Erwin, Hange. Yet since the Rumbling he has just… fallen behind. He is just existing and it seems like his body has finally caught up to his age: no longer agile and strong, but a weakened man, finally leaving the survival mode that has characterised every single aspect of his life. He doesn’t have any goals or dreams now. Everything had been slowly trampled down like the titans destroying all land and all life.

He shivers, remembering that day and holds her hand tighter.

Once he had completed the promise made to Erwin, his last order, he had nothing more. No more commands. No more slaying titans.

Just existing.

He doesn’t want that. He has been a fighter, a rebel, a monster his whole life. He only knew of endurance and compliance with the spirit of life, of resistance. He doesn’t know of anything else: the calmness, the quietness, the routine walks and just reading books and sitting on his porch… That is not him. That isn’t life. Being able to choose things for himself, devour life gently and enjoy it instead of painfully trying to keep it close, to grip it between calloused fingers… Peace isn’t familiar.

He has nothing to devote himself to, nothing to prove or fight for.

“Yeah,” he thinks. “Everything is… meaningless… Or it was.”

He closes his eyes, relinquishing himself in the warm body against his.

Some things… Some things have meaning still.

Her.

The way she would scrunch her nose when laughing or buy him drinks or attempt to make him laugh or wear that damn stupid wrinkled dress and — “Fuck. I know her so much by now…”

She had been a Scout too. She had fought and devoted her heart and did everything a Scout had to do. She had fulfilled her duty in the same way he did. She has survived and she doesn’t regret a single thing. Not even this life.

She is at peace.

He wants to sob.

He doesn’t understand peace. Sure, it was his goal, what he always dreamed of, but, damn it. Levi had never thought he would actually get to see something resembling it. Unlike her. She understood what it was: she has accepted peace with open arms and a smile that — fuck, somehow— has been shining on her face throughout the years. Despite so much pain and death… She still allows herself to fucking live in peace. She forgave herself for the death, for the pain and crimes and let go.

He isn’t sure if he can do the same.

Peace is foreign, strange even. An oddity. And he isn’t stupid, he knows that time would run up someday and that things would turn against them for a second time.

But, still, the promise of the rest of his life in peace lingers.

He could have it.

He fucking could.

Levi reflects on those thoughts for a moment, silent still.

He thinks he can get to an agreement. Maybe, when she wakes up in the morning, he can try to spill his soul to her a little. Try to understand how she handles this life, how she can get up in the mornings after killing so much, and just have tea with him.

But for now, in the quietness of the night, as the old warrior he was, he does the only thing he knows: he promises to dedicate his heart once more.

He finally has a reason, a purpose, something worth protecting again.

Levi lifts his hand, crossing it on his chest the way all Scouts would do. But he doesn’t press it on his heart, but rather, moves it to hold her hand, the one resting on his shoulder. He squeezes it gently, suddenly feeling too overwhelmed by her. By the silent love she had been proclaiming to him all these years and that he couldn’t reciprocate before.

Yes. Now it is the time.

Levi would dedicate his heart once more.

To her and only her.

That may have been the cheesiest ending ever written but !!!! He deserves it, I know. Also someone stop me before I write for Hange, the feelings got to me indeed. Dividers by @/cafekitsune @/saradika and @/vase-of-lilies

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman fluff #attack on titan fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfiction #aot fanfiction #writer bee #mine #x reader #reader insert

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cramathonn · 1 month ago

Note

Hello! I see your rules and saw Seth on your list. I just got him recently and I wanted to ask if I can request something (a drabble or a oneshot, it's up to you) of our boyo. But let me give some idea worms first.

So, i heard somewhere that Seth is a Lynx thiren (unless I'm wrong, but looking at his thiren features, seems like his counterpart is from the Felidae family), and I researched that Lynxes can purr. So... imagine when reader (gender neutral) was petting Seth (or just give him some fluffy loving) he ended up purring because he's getting very comfortable

Sorry if it's kinda long! You can skip this if you want. It's my first time making a request 😅

This is adorable, anon

And don't worry, it wasn't that long! Throughout my writing history, I've gotten requests that are SO MUCH longer (and the context and worms are much appreciated). Also, I went to check his thiren subspecies and he's just a cat, not a lynx. Lynxes, while being felines, have considerably shorter tails when compared to other members of the Felidae family! Aka, bob cat short. So yeah, I referred to him as cat thiren in this little drabble, I hope you don't mind!

Hopefully you enjoy the sillies!

Warnings: none! Only fluff

Reader: gender neutral (no pronouns used)

Seth Lowell x GN!Reader

Purring

You and Seth were finally alone, relaxing inside the comfort of your shared apartment at Lumina Square. It was an exhausting day for the both of you, with either jobs sucking more energy out of you than usual.

While Seth insisted that you two asked for some food before ultimately sitting down to relax, you convinced him to do so later by bringing his head to your lap and starting to comb through his hair with your fingers. That immediately disarmed your beloved boyfriend and made his face flush red like a tomato. It didn't take long for his body to relax, the tip of his tail starting to slowly wag in contentment.

These small moments were the ones you adored most with him. Yes, you loved your walks alongside the riverbank, going out to run at the park or eat relax at the coffee shop, but this was perfect. Just the two of you, with you sitting on the couch while he had his head upon your lap, basking in each other's presence.

However, something was different this time. A noise, low and rumbly, echoing through your living room. You swore you didn't have any laundy today and you always checked all of your electrical equipment before having a chill couch session, so where was this coming from? You pay more attention to the sound, trying to pinpoint its origing. It was... Coming from beneath you? You looked down, now staring at the top of your boyfriend's head. His ears twitched every so often, leaning a bit backwards as a way to indicate how relaxed he was.

Wait, wasn't Seth a thiren? Specifically a cat one? The name of the noise coming from him was at the tip of your tongue and when you remembered it, the soft smile previously on your face widened slightly. He was purring. Seth, your uptight and slightly reserved boyfriend, was purring. The realization that he felt so at ease, so safe and comfortable in your presence to let his guard down enough to purr made your heart swell with contentment. You changed the way tou caressed the top of his head, which made him turn his head to the side so that he could look at you better, a curious look on his face.

"Everything alright? You changed how you were caressing my head... Not that I mind!"

He asked, voice much more relaxed than usual. It obviously still had that slightly loud factor that made his voice, well, his, but it was obvious to anyone who heard it that this man was calm and comfortable. You laughed at his inquiry, tangling your fingers in his silky white strands, combing through them.

"Oh, it's nothing, Seth. It's just that..."

You pondered for a second. Should you tell him? You worried that if you did he would go back to gaurding himself and stop allowing himself to purr around you, and you didn't want that! You wanted for him to feel free to relax and let his guard down, to allow himself to unwind and confide in you. However, knowing your lovely boyfriend, he'd think you were troubled with something, instead of just being deeply infatuated with his adorable noises. So you decided to simply say it.

"Well, you were purring"

You said, voice soft and filled with undeniable affection for Seth. His ears stood and tail flinched, immediately stopping its suave content swaying.

"O-oh, uhm, I'm sorry about that! It wasn't really meant to come out, it just kind of happens when I'm really relaxed... I'll make sure it doesn't happen again, I pro-"

There it was. Your sweet overthinker of a boyfriend thinking there would be a problem and that you would, most likely, think less of him for just relaxing and emitting natural noises. You made sure to cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

"Seth, hey, it's ok. I don't mind the purring. I think it's cute! It shows me that you're comfortable enough around me to let your guard down and just... Relax, y'know?"

You said in an attempt to make Seth see your point of view. That apparently worked, seeing how his cheeks were now slightly pink and how his tail started to wag its tip once more. The thiren buried his face in your thighs, trying to hide how embarrassed your comment made him. But it also made him feel extremely giddy. You found his purring was cute? And, instead of ridiculing him for something that was natural, you were glad and happy that it meat he was comfortable around you? Heavens, what did he do to score someone as fantastic as you?

"I love you, Seth"

You said, continuing to caress his head and comb through his hair. At that, Seth turned his whole body to the side, hugging you as he shoved his face in your stomach, nuzzling your shirt.

"I love you too, (y/n)"

He answered, muffled by the fabric of your shirt. Seth's voice was soft as he allowed himself to relax once more, his purring returning and you could now feel its rumbling against you. The two of you remained there, you caressing his hair and him cuddling against your stomach. Yeah, you wouldn't trade this for anything in the world.

Written by Cramathonn, 29/09/2024

Concluded at 2:50pm

#seth zzz x reader #seth x reader #zzz x reader #zenless zone zero x reader #storytellerdemon #seth zzz #seth lowell

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seangelfish · 8 months ago

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What they do for White Day (pt.3)

❥ Featured characters: Hiiro Amagi, Leo Tsukinaga, Kanata Shinkai, Ibara Saegusa, Yuzuru Fushimi

❥ Tags: Fluff, established relationships/mutual crushes, stories are based on the !! era, no mention of pronouns

❥ A/N: The final part of my What they do for White Day Enstars special! I hope everyone has a wonderful White Day even if you don't celebrate it! Decided on these characters for last because 1. everyone likes Hiiro and Leo and 2. I haven't written for Kanata, Ibara and Yuzuru in such a long time!

Please check out part 1 and part 2 if you haven't already~

🤍 HIIRO AMAGI

This was Hiiro's first time celebrating Valentine's Day, so when you gifted him your chocolates after school, he was appreciative that you thought of him. He didn't understand the implications of the gift until you confessed your feelings which made him feel awkward as his cheeks blushed.

Deep down, he knew he liked you romantically too. That's why he stuck to you like glue, greeting you a lively good morning and helping you in any way he can.

But he didn't know that he had to reciprocate your gifts until Aira told him about White Day. He thought your confession had already established a relationship together, but if that's what the customs here are and if it would make you happy, then he'll do his best to make White Day a special day for you!

Thankfully, Aira was there to guide him so he wouldn't mess up. During lunch, he asked you to go meet him by the fountain where he gifted you a silver bracelet and a box of white chocolates. Surprisingly, he didn't need Aira's help in choosing the jewellery because he knew what looked best on you.

"Let me help you put it on!" he said happily. "There. Haha, it looks pretty, don't you think? Happy White Day, (Y/N). I hope we can celebrate even more holidays together!"

🤍 LEO TSUKINAGA

Leo jumped up and down excitedly when he received those Valentine's chocolates from you. He bragged about it the whole day, annoying the NEW DI idols in the process.

"Uwaaa! Thank you, (Y/N)!" he beamed, hugging you tightly. "Hahaha, I like you too, you know? What else should we do today? Should we go to..."

So a relationship was established with Leo almost immediately. The two of you were already close to begin with, so it wasn't too much of a surprise to others. Shockingly, he was a pretty attentive boyfriend. He always found time to check up on you during work and would provide you with drinks and snacks. Sometimes he'd leave notes, some of which were lyrics about you, and others were just stick drawings of the two of you.

These little things would always make you smile. Therefore, for White Day, Leo bought you a box of White Day-themed cookies that the two of you shared together. And of course, he had composed you a song so beautiful that it made you shed a few tears.

"Hahaha, Happy White Day, (Y/N)!" he exclaimed as he wiped your tears away. "I love you so so much! Anyway, is there anything else you'd like to do? We can do everything you want!"

🤍 KANATA SHINKAI

Kanata was new to the whole romance scene, so when you gifted him chocolates for Valentine's Day, he wondered what the occasion was.

"Oh, I see! So that's what you do on 'Valentine's Day'~" he said excitedly. "Thank you for the 'chocolates', (Y/N). Let's share them, okay~?"

However, that didn't mean he was oblivious to everything. He knew about White Day since Kaoru used to participate in it a lot back in school, so he had some idea of what to do. Additionally, he asked around because he wanted to give you, his lover, the best he could.

So on White Day, the two of you spent time together by the sea, lighting sparklers and giggling to each other's stories. He had gifted you a pearl necklace and a koi plushie from AOUMI Aquarium.

"Koi fishes symbolise love~" he explained, smiling from ear to ear. "I love you, (Y/N). Happy White Day!"

🤍 IBARA SAEGUSA

As he expected, the chocolates you made him for Valentine's Day were alluring and sweet, but what he liked most of all was the love letter you wrote for him. He would keep it in his pocket, rereading the contents when he took his short breaks at work. A smile would always appear when he did so which made coworkers wonder what he was reading.

He had planned everything out before White Day like it was a project that needed to be executed perfectly. He wrote down timeframes, date ideas, and gifts that you might like. Everything had its own section in his 'White Day' binder.

If he could give you everything in the world, he would.

On White Day, he took the day off so that the two of you were able to do everything on his schedule. First was to do an activity that you liked whether it was arts and crafts or something sports related. Second, he brought you on a lunch cruise where the two of you had lunch together on the river. However, when the third activity came, he realised you were getting tired, so he brought you home to relax and watch a movie together.

That was when he gifted you a silver necklace, and of course, he wasn't going to forget the big bouquet of white flowers he had ordered.

You appreciated everything he had done for you today even those he was kind of excessive.

"Happy White Day, my dearest (Y/N). I love you from the bottom of my heart. I hope today was satisfactory. Apologies if it was too much, but I hope we can do this again soon."

🤍 YUZURU FUSHIMI

Everyone knew you were childhood friends with Yuzuru, but they didn't expect you to hand him chocolates on Valentine's Day. Because you were so bold about it, you handed them to him in class resulting in cheers from friends and classmates. This embarrassed him greatly, but his heart had skipped a beat.

"Woo-woo!" Subaru whistled. "Congrats, Fusshi!"

He accepted your chocolates, thanking you for them, but he also scolded you for being so brash.

"I appreciate it, (Y/N), but don't do that again."

However, in private, he did accept your feelings. Unexpectedly, he had feelings for you too, but with how good he was at hiding them, you were left speechless – both figuratively and literally because he had left to go find Tori.

But he wasn't going to leave it at that. He wanted to do something for you too. After all, his purpose was to serve. On White Day, he gifted you a bento box he had cooked and white roses he grew and picked. It was sweet until he presented you with the last item – a drawing he did of you.

Nevertheless, it was cute.

"Happy White Day, (Y/N)," he smiled. "I've always loved you and will always keep loving you. I'm free after school, so let's go to that place you keep pestering me about."

Intro page | Ensemble Stars masterlist | Rules

#ensemble stars x reader #enstars x reader #x reader #fanfic #hiiro amagi x reader #leo tsukinaga x reader #kanata shinkai x reader #ibara saegusa x reader #yuzuru fushimi x reader #fluff #imagines #drabbles #amagi hiiro x reader #tsukinaga leo x reader #shinkai kanata x reader #saegusa ibara x reader #fushimi yuzuru x reader

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etz-ashashiyot · 8 months ago

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About Me/FAQs

You can call me Avital. I am a non-binary traditional egalitarian Jew living in the US. Any pronouns except they/them are fine. (!היא/את בעברית, בבקשה. תודה)

I really appreciate human interaction. That being the case, if you follow me and I don't already follow you, please send me a DM with the following:

What you want me to call you (internet name, username, nickname, whatever)

What brought you here and made you want to follow me

Something random about you that you feel comfortable sharing (pet pics are always welcome too <3)

I had a whole lot of other rules on my previous blog to weed out the faint of heart, but I genuinely don't know how well that worked, so instead I will simply put roughly the same information below as resources and recommended reading. Fair warning: I will operate from a baseline assumption that you've done the reading and therefore will not be explaining anything in them.

I also had a listing of my firm opinions and other miscellaneous information. That got long and unwieldy, but a lot of people seemed to appreciate it, so I will post roughly the same list under the cut.

The current username refers to my current symbol of a tree of lanterns in the starlight. This is related to my desire to create self-symbolism, old school style (like I really want to create a family crest, a flag, a seal, and other heraldic nonsense. Why? Because it delights me, of course.)

This page is under construction and subject to change at any time.

B'vracha,

Avital

Recommend Reading

For followers who are Christian, were Christian, are non-Jews who grew up in a Christian culture and/or have only learned about Judaism through Christianity, these links are very helpful in unpacking some of the antisemitism you were taught:

Better Parables (specifically the article about Pharisees, but read the rest of the site too, it's great)

Antisemitic readings of the Temple table-flipping incident in the New Testament

The current Israel-Hamas war and just המצב discourse in general require a lot of background knowledge to discuss intelligently, and not just propaganda. There is a LOT of antisemitism in the public around this topic and it is having serious real-world consequences for Jews all over the world. The mis- and disinformation is causing problems for everyone involved. Islamophobia in the West has increased as well. If you're going to engage in this discussion, I am respectfully but forcefully asking you to read the following sources. They are useful regardless of where you fall on that political scale.

There Is No Magic Peace Fairy

Ways to help: [1], [2], [3]

Muslim organizations advocating for peace, education, positive interfaith relations, and fighting antisemitism

This is perhaps my best summary of my own feelings on the whole thing

Is your pro-Palestine activism hurting innocent people? Here's how to avoid that

Please learn what Kahanism is, because it actually is what people think Zionism is. Zionism is simply a desire for Jewish self-determination in our ancestral homeland of eretz Yisrael. Kahanism is a type of racism that cloaks itself in Zionism but is fundamentally bigoted.

A non-exhaustive list of antisemitic incidents, attacks, and pogroms during [OP's] lifetime

An exceptionally long and thorough explanation of antisemitism and antisemitic violence throughout history

Why The Most Educated People in America Fall for Antisemitic Lies by Dara Horn (tumblr link in case the article link gets broken)

This explanation of the atrocities endured by Soviet Jews and how the legacy of Soviet antisemitism undergirds western "antizionism-not-antisemitism." If you call yourself an anti-Zionist, this is required reading.

An excellent overview of the basics

This is nowhere near complete information, but it's an important start. I will very likely continue to add resources as they become available and would love to create a primer on this topic more generally.

If you don't believe that October 7th happened or wasn't that bad, or really any atrocity denial please read this article from a reporter who was shown the actual footage, as well as this article documenting its effects on him.

If you are still in denial about the pattern of gender based violence, sexualized torture, and widespread rape as a war tactic committed by Hamas on 10/7, you are legally required to read this article.

About the blog:

I’m going to try my best to keep this blog to primarily Judaism, comparative religion and theology, with the occasional side sprinkling of queer & trans stuff, BUT it is absolutely a personal blog at the end of the day.

I talked about Israel and המצב stuff a lot on my previous blog and will likely continue a bit over here too. I welcome a broad swath of opinions, so long as they objectively treat all parties involved as human and deserving of safety, stability, freedom, dignity, and peace. That is apparently a large ask these days, and a not-small part of why I keep talking about this issue. Please be part of the voices that give me hope for the future, okay?

Minors can follow and interact but please keep in mind that I’m probably closer to your parents' age than yours if you do want to interact with me directly.

Interactions:

Rude asks will be deleted. Harassing blogs will be blocked and probably reported.

I consider anything even remotely in the vicinity of trying to proselytize to me to be “harassing,” or at a minimum, rude. Just FYI.

Otherwise, nice interactions are welcomed.

Banter is encouraged; trolling will be ignored

If you are a goy and want to argue with me about Jewish theology, you have to match my perfect score on this popquiz, no cheating by looking things up during the quiz. I learned Judaism as an adult mostly through self-study so you have no excuse. If you're invested enough to argue with me you're invested enough to do the reading homework. (To clarify: I'm happy to explain Jewish stuff to anyone who is sincerely asking or just have a friendly comparative theology discussion or whatever. But I have zero patience for those who want to argue with me about basic shit claiming they know more than me, especially if what they're claiming they "know" is not only wrong but antisemitic and wrong.)

If I don't respond to your interaction, there's a strong chance that I (a) have no idea what to say and am thinking about it, (2) totally meant to respond and just forgot after the notif disappeared, and/or (3) got incredibly busy. It's not personal! Please don't be shy about following up with me if you like. I promise that if we have a problem that is fixable, you'll know. If we have a problem that is not fixable, you'll be blocked.

I am currently learning Ivrit and am delighted to have interactions in Hebrew. Please feel free to message me, reply to posts or reblog, submit asks, etc. in Hebrew and I will do my best to read and respond to it. (Responses will be slower, but not for lack of appreciation of your thoughts!)

Anything else, just ask.

Hard stances:

You're not going to change my mind on these things; I've looked at the evidence, my personal experiences, and thought about them long and hard, and I am not going to be swayed by an internet rando. I can (often, but not always) co-exist just fine with people who I disagree with, but if seeing my posts about this is going to upset you, just do us both a favor and block me now please.

I am deeply distressed at how many people are choosing to live in a "post-factual society" where the truth is based on truthiness vibes and the politics are based on the quippiest of slogans. I don't care who's doing it, misinfo, disinfo, propaganda, atrocity denial, and gaslighting are BAD. There is no nuance here; these are bad things. They are bad if they go against your cause and they are bad if they "support" your cause. No cause is better than the truth.

If we cannot have a discussion where we are operating from the same baseline reality of verifiable facts, we cannot have a productive conversation and I will not engage with you. We can agree or disagree on a lot and that is fine, but facts matter.

If you cannot be reasoned with in accepting verifiable facts as reality, you need help. I'm serious. That is cult behavior. Get off tumblr and get help.

I don't know how to tell you that you should care about other people. If you don't see the inherent worth in other human beings' lives, I can't fix that. Go take that struggle to G-d and heal your soul.

I support the right of the Jewish people to self-determination in our ancestral homeland of Israel, the same way that I support other indigenous groups' right to self-determination in their ancestral homelands. If you don't, I'm going to need you to examine why Jews should be singled out of every other group to be denied this right or denied support in seeking it. That said, I definitely do not agree with many of the decisions made by the Israeli government, especially (but far from exclusively) regarding their treatment of Palestinians. I think both Jews and Palestinians deserve to live in peace, safety, freedom, dignity, and self-determination for both. No one is going anywhere; any real solution must recognize that. I tend to favor this proposal by A Land for All as an ideal (and given the grassroots nature of this idea, I think it could work pragmatically too, if the political will exists on both sides.)

I reject the Zionist/anti-Zionist dichotomy altogether for a number of reasons: 1) It impedes conversation because too many people agree but will never know it because they refuse to talk about what they actually mean by those labels and instead make assumptions about the other group. 2) It inherently puts the validity of an existing state up for debate rather than looking at real solutions for the future. You cannot unmake the state of Israel without widespread atrocities, but you can figure out options for everyone to live together in peace and heal from the collective trauma. 3) It also makes it way too easy to play Good Jew/Bad Jew and "Zionist" has basically become the slur de jour for "Jew." It sucks that people took a Jewish word for an important Jewish concept and made it synonymous with "bloodthirsty racist," but personally I don't think arguing over that at this exact juncture in time is helpful.

Bottom line: I'm a humanitarian and a pragmatist, and I care about all the people who call that part of the world home.

Update: for real, if you have trouble seeing Israelis and Palestinians both as human and deserving of safety, dignity, freedom, and inherent worth as living human beings, I don't want to know you. I don't want to talk to you. Go fix yourself.

🌻 I stand with Ukraine 🇺🇦

Free Iran from the Islamic Republic // Women Life Freedom

Abortion is a human right and should be safe, legal, available on demand, and shameless. It's a necessary medical procedure and it's completely barbaric that we're still talking about it as anything else.

Birth control, abortion, and no-fault divorce are actively positive parts of society and building healthy families.

Transition care is healthcare and also a human right. Allowing people to transition prevents self-harm and suicide, and has an extremely high efficacy rate with an exceptionally low level of risk or regret. We now have well over a century of data on this.

That said, detransitioners who are still supportive of trans people/aren't transphobic are more than welcome here, as any exploratory process deserves the right to say, "Interesting! But nope!"

Transunity, ace/aro positivity, and just inclusionism in general, 100%. Fuck off with anything else.

Queer might be a slur in the mouths of some people, but my identity isn't. Don't reblog my posts if you're going to tag it with "q slur" or "q word" or censored in some way. I'm not Gay as in "I prioritize cis men over the entire rest of the community" but Queer as in "my personal labels are none of your business but my political stance on queer liberation sure as fuck will be."

If you don't vaccinate yourself and your kids for any reason other than medical necessity, and especially if you promote anti-vaxxer views and the associated pseudoscience, you are actively harming the most vulnerable members of society for entirely selfish reasons and that makes you a bad person. I hope your kids bypass you to get vaccinated.

Wear a mask 😷

161 notes · View notes

adamstnheights · 2 years ago

Text

Stitches - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Summary: You’re the newest recruit to 141 and still trying to figure out your intimidating, mysterious lieutenant. Being assigned as his partner on the field for the first time on a sniper mission, you’re unsure exactly how to act around him, especially when he has such an… effect on you. But when you both get caught in the crossfire, you’re forced to take cover with him and mend his wounds, much to his (begrudging) appreciation.

An alternative take on the Recon by Fire mission in MWII. Also based loosely around the Simon Riley ASMR video by Jim ASMR on YouTube because it was just so cute :)

Reader’s callsign is Zero (iykyk)

Content: Reader uses she/her pronouns, Sniper Reader, Reader used to want to be a medic, Military Inaccuracies, Medical Inaccuracies, Gunshot Wounds, Ghost being super soft, You taking care of Ghost, Ghost taking care of you, Gentle touches, Needles, Bandages, Stitches, Developing feelings, Ghost trusting you, Flirting, Fluff, Ghost is a cat person (REAL)

Word Count: 7.4k

“Ghost and Zero, you’ll station up at the top of the hill and see if you can take any of the cartel guards out from a distance,” Price ordered over comms. “When the path is clear, Gaz and I will move into the hatchery and clear them out, looking for any evidence of the missiles. Laswell will be out on the water on overwatch. If we need her, she can get to shore and join us in the hatchery.”

Usually, you would be standing in the debriefing room to hear your instructions for a mission, but because of the short notice and urgency, you were listening to Price’s voice over comms in the back of one of the task force’s vans. While Price continued to speak, you slowly let your gaze move over to where Ghost was sitting across from you in the back of the van, only for your whole body to seize up when you realized that he was already staring at you. And of course, you couldn’t tell what the hell he was thinking—basically his whole expression was covered by his mask. It frustrated you to no end. It felt like he always had the upper hand, not allowing the enemy or opposition to get a read on his face, which was understandable, but you wanted to know. You wanted to be able to know what he was thinking. In comparison, it made you feel extremely vulnerable. Maybe you’d look into getting your own mask.

Being the rookie made you feel extremely out of place. It didn’t matter you had five years of being a sniper under your belt; you’ve only been with them for six months, so to the rest of Task Force 141, you were still the newbie. Talk about your skill had been passed around by word of mouth, and soon Captain John Price had approached your former unit and proposed a deal to you that was too good to pass up. So a few months and a location change later, you were the newest addition to 141, thus securing your label as “the rookie.” There wasn’t really anything you could do about it.

Luckily, the guys in the unit welcomed you with open arms, although the kindness did come along with a fair share of humorous and flirtatious remarks. Soap and Gaz basically took you under their wing immediately, taking pride in teaching you new things and showing you the ropes of 141. They urged you to join in on their game nights and when they would go out to the bar after a hard day of training or a rough mission. You felt at ease around the other men, too, for the most part.

Ghost was another story. From the first time you met him, you were intimidated. He had a towering, large figure that could speak for itself, but also his voice was deep and gruff, especially when he was barking out orders. You weren’t scared of him, per se, but you were cautious. From the interactions you’ve had with him and the way you’ve observed him on missions, you definitely wouldn’t want to get on his bad side. He was mysterious—the mask and skull cover showed that the most, but on top of that, you noticed the way he expertly dodged any prying questions that Soap would ask him over comms during a mission. When you and the rest of the crew got drunk and began spewing out stories from your former lives, you noticed how Ghost would simply sit back and listen, observe, but not provide any stories of his own. You were sure he had his reasons for being closed off, but you couldn’t help but wish that he were… more approachable. Especially now that you were on your first mission with just him by your side, you felt like you knew him the least out of the other members of 141.

The van slowly and quietly came to a stop towards the top of the hill. Ghost opened the back doors and jumped out onto the ground and you followed, rifle in hand.

“Zero, on me,” Ghost said, nodding his head his way.

The fog along the coastline was thick—good for the enemies not spotting you, but not as good for you spotting the enemies. You stationed yourself about forty yards away from the edge of the uppermost hill, where the grass was thick and high. The outline of the hatchery could be seen far, far in the distance, right along the edge of the land. From where you and Ghost were crouching, you could see below where a dirt path winded slowly down the hills. It would take some time and patience to fully push forward and make it safe enough for Price and Gaz to breach the buildings down below. But you were ready; more importantly, you were counting on this mission to prove your worthiness to Ghost. It was kind of pathetic. You knew you were a damn good sniper out on the battlefield, and yet, ever since Ghost’s intense, unreadable gaze landed on you, you’d felt determined to do whatever it took to get his approval. It didn’t help that the way he looked at you kind of really made your heart race, in the most confusing way, and the periodic sarcastic jokes he would make over comms made him more endearing.

Still, you didn’t want to push your luck. The last thing you wanted was for this mission to bring you back to square one in terms of your reputation on the team. In front of you, Ghost crouched even lower to the ground, pointing his rifle outward and looking through the scope. You fell back slightly behind him, also crouching in the grass. After a few moments of silence, you furrowed your brow at him, unsure whether he was going to say something or if he was just trying to act like you weren’t even there. Maybe he was annoyed by you, annoyed that out of everyone else on 141, he was stuck with the rookie.

Finally, he nodded his head forwards, motioning you to follow him. Both of you crawled through the grass until you reached closer to the edge of the hill. You both got down, fully lying on the dirt. Through the fog, you could now make out the wire fences around the hatchery, where cartel were guarding the entrances and walking along the dirt paths surrounding it.

“I can see about ten of ’em, all ’round the entrance fence,” Ghost finally broke the silence.

“We need to take our time,” you said, “They’ll spread out, into groups of two or three. Then we can take them out.”

“I’ll follow your lead,” he replied, “Let me know who to take out.” Normally, he would be argumentative to a new recruit taking the initiative, but there was something about you that fascinated him. He didn’t mind hearing your voice walking through the plan and telling him what to do. Price had told him about your skill; he knew that you knew what you were doing.

You readjusted your rifle just so, looking through the scope.

“On top of the building, two snipers,” you announced, “Do you see my laser on your thermal?”

You could hear Ghost repositioning his rifle a couple feet away from you in the grass. “Affirmative.”

“Go.”

You pulled the trigger, hitting the sniper on the right. Mere seconds afterwards, you heard Ghost’s rifle go off and through the scope you could see the second sniper’s body fall over.

“Got ’im,” he said. “On the right side of the fence, near the blue shipping container, there’s two.”

“I’m on him,” you said, lining up your shot next to his.

Ghost shot first this time, you followed him. The two men by the shipping container dropped to the ground. You continued scanning the area.

“Three more, below, closer to us, walking by that white van,” you flexed your hand and regripped the trigger.

“I’ll get the stray,” Ghost said.

“Copy that.”

You lined up your shot to the guy furthest to the right, watching as Ghost’s laser appeared over the man next to him. Again, seconds after you shot, Ghost followed, taking out the other. He quickly readjusted his hold on the rifle to focus in on the third one of the group. As you watched through the scope, the third man immediately went onto high alert, pointing his gun around him. Ghost wasn’t worried though as he lined up his shot. Poor bloke; unlike the first two men, this one would spend his last living seconds in panic mode.

Unfortunately, in the few seconds in between, the third man shouted and seemingly alerted someone else. Immediately after Ghost shot him down, two more men came running into view, shooting upwards towards the two of you. With a few uncoordinated shots, you and Ghost took them down quickly, but the not-so-subtle gunfire from your direction gave away your position. Before you could even think about moving, a bullet sped right past your view and into Ghost’s arm.

“Fuckin’ hell!” Ghost grunted, sucking in his breath in pain. “Where the fuck—?”

You were frantically scanning the area for where the shot could have come from when another bullet came speeding towards you, and you felt a sharp pain searing through your own arm. Furrowing your brow, you struggled to look even harder through the scope. “Shit—!” You winced.

“Got ’im,” Ghost announced, pulling the trigger, “To your left, on top of that small shed. There was another one.”

“Fuck.” You noticed two more men emerging from behind the shed. Both of you quickly took them down. “We– We need to push forward, we don’t have the best view from here. I can’t tell if we cleared the whole area.”

“Copy that.”

You began to crawl forward, the pressure of leaning on your right arm not helping the gash there. Before you could crawl even a foot you felt an unfamiliar touch on your forearm. Ghost had placed his gloved hand there, and you turned to look at him.

“You okay?” He asked lowly. You nodded your head, too shocked to speak.

You and Ghost quickly moved forward, onto an area of grass a bit lower down the hill than where you were before. You could see a bit closer now, and from the new angle, you could make out the rest of the area below. There were a handful more men on guard around the building, and you gripped your rifle hard in an attempt to distract your body from the pain. You monitored Ghost’s laser and helped him take out the men accordingly. Barely any more gunfire was exchanged.

“Price, Gaz—we cleared the outside surroundings of the buildings. You should be good to go in now,” he directed over comms.

“Copy. Good work, you two,” Price replied.

You met Ghost’s eyes from between the blades of grass and you could tell that he was intentionally not letting Price know that you two got hit. You could have spoken up yourself but you had successfully eliminated everyone and neither bullet seemed to have hit anything critical. Giving the lieutenant a knowing nod, you scanned the area and noticed a stream of water by a small stone building. It wasn’t really a building, more like a small hut. Ghost saw where you were looking and nodded his head towards it, giving you the go ahead.

Crouching slightly, you both quickly snuck towards the stone shack. Ghost positioned himself to cover the rickety wooden door, which you kicked in, instantly holding your rifle up to clear the inside. He followed you close behind, checking all corners of the worn-over room. Everything inside was covered in moss or other overgrown plants.

“Clear.” Ghost stated, lowering his gun. You were already sliding down against the stone wall towards the corner of the room, grasping the side of your arm. Ghost rushed to your side, sitting next to you. “Here,” he went to look at your arm, but you expertly reached for him first.

“Show me yours first,” you whispered, “Mine’s just a graze. Yours is worse.”

“Are you defying your superior?” He asked. You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“Yours is worse,” you repeated, shaking your head, “The bullet lodged in there. I need to take a look.” You were staring at his left bicep, where the layers of jacket and shirts were ripped into by the bullet. The hole in Ghost’s skin was large, bleeding profusely.

“It’s nothing,” he grumbled, “I’m more worried about you, Zero.”

Your eyebrow raised and you tilted your head up to look at him. Behind the mask, you could see his eyes clearly. They were hazel, and for probably one of the first times since you’ve known him, they looked soft and genuine. Up close, you could see little spots where the black paint smudged and his skin was peeking through. His eyelashes were blonde, slightly covered by some black face paint, but definitely blonde. Suddenly, you were trying to picture Ghost’s blonde hair under the mask and balaclava. You weren’t as intimidated by him anymore as you were intrigued—deep down, you wished you could see more of him.

From what you’ve observed of him (plus things Soap and Gaz have said), you knew he wasn’t really as big and scary as he seemed to be. He cracked jokes over comms during missions. During downtime on base he’d join the rest of the group playing cards or drinking, still wearing his balaclava obviously, but without the skull cover and only minimal black eye black on, so you could see more of his face clearly. You would never admit it to the rest of the guys, certainly not Soap, but you found Ghost to be quite handsome. (You could just hear Soap teasing you: You don’t even know what he looks like! He could be ugly!) Between his deep voice, towering figure, and the way his hands worked around his rifle (you have stared too many times to admit), he was… hot. What more could you say? It felt like a silly high school crush; he was your superior and you barely knew anything about him. But… you wished you could learn more. You would, if he’d let you. You would.

And now, with his face only inches away from yours, his eyes looking at you intently, you felt determined to take care of him. You wanted to see that softer side of him, and you also wanted an excuse to dote on him. Already, he was acting a bit more flustered than usual with you trying to defy him. You wondered how long you’d be able to keep it up for.

“I’m not taking that for an answer,” you insisted. “Yours is worse, so we’re taking care of you first.”

Ghost raised his eyebrows, his mouth partly open in shock of your defiance, but his lips spread into a smirk, amused by your determined edge. He was intrigued by you, so he’d let you win this argument. He didn’t say anything more as you inched closer to him. He sat with his entire back against the wall, facing forward. You turned your body towards him, sitting cross-legged as you placed a hand on his arm where the bullet wound was.

“I… think you’re going to have to take this off. The jacket, at least. Sorry, Lieutenant,” you said.

“You can call me Ghost, you know,” he said as he leaned forward to unclip his tactical vest and shuck the jacket off.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, “I was just trying to be polite, I guess.”

“Don’t need to be polite with me,” he smirked.

“Okay… Ghost,” you smiled. You took off your own tactical vest and rummaged through the back pockets, pulling out your first aid kit. You opened the kit and took out the tweezers. “Sorry if this hurts.”

“S’alright, not the worst thing I’ve endured. And I haven’t had the privilege of such an… assertive patching up,” Ghost could feel himself blushing behind the mask. He was glad you couldn’t see.

First, you inspected the bullet. It had implanted inside his arm, making it impossible for any kind of extraction, especially under conditions like these. With only minimal shattering, the pieces embedded into the muscle, there were no critical places hit or at risk. Your main goal was to stop the bleeding so you could stitch the wound closed.

“It seems like… most of your muscle absorbed the bullet. No bone damage or critical areas hit, so… all I’m gonna do is stitch you up,” you explained. You held back a giggle, pushing away the urge to squeeze his arm; you weren’t entirely sure if he’d like that very much (you were almost positive he’d kill you). “When we get back to base, the nurses at the infirmary can keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t get infected or anything, and if not, then it’ll just heal over.”

“Aw, no trophy for me to take home?” Ghost asked.

“You still get to take it home,” you replied, taking your two fingers and tapping his arm above the wound, “just in here. Hey, now it’ll always be with you.” He shuddered at your touch.

You began cleaning around and in the wound, earning a sharp hiss from Ghost’s mouth as you wiped the area off with a small rag and some water from your hydration bladder. You poured some water slowly onto the wound, trying to flush out any dirt or debris, before placing some gauze over it and applying pressure to slow the bleeding. While your one hand was pushing against his arm, you reached your other hand back into the first aid kit, fishing around for your stitching tools. You took out a needle with thread, along with a needle driver. You placed the needle driver on your leg for the time being.

You dug into one of your pockets, brandishing a small square alcohol wipe package, which you promptly ripped open with your teeth so you wouldn’t have to set the needle down. Ghost practically had to hold back from choking on his own breath, the way you were so focused and determined was certainly making him feel some unfamiliar type of way. He had barely gotten a chance to hesitate or argue against you patching him up, he was too mesmerized in watching you and you were already grabbing a hold of his arm again, sending a tingle down his spine as you cleaned his wound.

Then, with one hand, you pierced the skin on one side of the open wound with the needle, then the other side. Your other hand held the needle driver, which you used to grip onto the end of the needle, pulling the thread through the newly made holes. With an even amount of thread left on either side of the wound, you wrapped the thread from the left side around the needle driver twice, then grabbed the other end of the thread with the driver. You pulled from both ends gently, making a first throw of the stitch. You did it again, looping the one side of the thread around the driver, grasping the other end, and pulling it tightly to make the knot. Ghost watched, almost in awe, at your expert handiwork. You made it look so easy.

“I... wanted to be a nurse, or a medic, or whatever, you know,” you rambled as you moved up the wound a few centimeters, piercing the skin to start another stitch, “I made it through undergrad and then… shit just didn’t really work out. But hey, I found out I was a pretty good sniper. So I’m good for somethin’, at least.”

Simon felt his whole body heating up from the way both of your hands were making contact with his upper arm. One hand was gently pressing down on his bicep around the wound while your other had the needle held in between your fingers. The gash you were closing up on him was large; it was certainly going to leave Ghost with a jagged scar. But for once, he felt at ease.

In all his years in the military, the marks and scars that have riddled his body only brought him more shame and discomfort. Sure, there were a few scars that were his “go-to” to talk about when the other guys began showing off about past endeavors (This one here, knife fight. I grabbed the bloke from behind and stabbed’im in the neck, but not before he got one in my side). Other than that, most of the bullet holes and jagged lines where his skin couldn’t fully heal only reminded him of the horrors and the pain. Now, though, the thought of having a scar on his arm from a wound that you took care of, he couldn’t be more elated. A mark on his body, stitched together carefully and gracefully by you. A secret moment—a memory—that only the two of you shared, forever imprinted into his arm; a scar that no one else would know the backstory to, unless he decided to tell it (he wouldn’t—he didn’t want to share this moment with anyone else).

Okay, so maybe some sort of feelings were blossoming in the cold, cold heart of Simon Riley. You didn’t have much of an idea about it, and honestly, neither did Ghost himself. Soap had teased him multiple times about a supposed “crush” that Ghost didn’t fully realize he had. But the sergeant certainly had. Soap teased him about how he always insisted he didn’t want to play cards with the rest of the team, only to grab a seat next to you and strategize how to beat everyone else. Was it an excuse to sit real close to you and exchange whispers and laughter? Soap would never get an answer because Ghost would tell him to fuck off, but he already knew the answer anyways.

Ghost’s heart was racing, suddenly and somehow nervous in your presence.

“Why do they call you Zero?” He asked abruptly, a random question spilling from his lips. He just wanted to keep hearing you talk to him.

“Isn’t that like, impolite to ask?” You smirked.

He laughed—a genuine, full out laugh. Your eyes brightened. “I’m only curious,” he said softly. “Jus’ tryin’ to make conversation.”

“Well, why do they call you Ghost?” You shot back playfully.

“Now that’s classified, love.” His eyes immediately widened as the endearing term slipped from his lips. He hoped you didn’t catch it; meanwhile, you were going to think about it for the rest of the week. You grinned to yourself, and he looked down at his hands and focused on how your needle pierced his skin—a certain amount of discomfort, but something that felt good knowing that you were right there next to him. He didn’t want to get into his callsign; however, he was willing to give you something else. “My name—my real name, I mean… It’s Simon.”

You stared at him, wide eyed. You almost couldn’t believe that he told you, you hadn’t expected him to want you to know something like that. “Simon,” you repeated, watching as he nodded his head. “That’s a nice name. Simon. So… am I allowed to call you Simon now?”

Ghost looked past you at the wall for a brief moment, thinking. “Not on the field,” he stated, “But… when we’re back on base… sure. Yeah. Call me Simon.”

You shivered at his deep voice. Simon, Simon, Simon. You wanted to say it again and again. And he wanted to hear you say it. He would like his name a thousand times better if it was coming from your mouth.

“Simon—”

“Hey.”

“Sorry. Ghost,” you giggled.

Three stitches down. You kept working, quickly and efficiently. Ghost kept watching you, wondering why Price hadn’t brought you onto the team as a medic. Not that your sniping abilities weren’t needed and greatly appreciated, but Ghost selfishly thought about how from now on, if he got so much as a small scrape, he’d go to you for help. Soon enough, you were finishing the last throw on the fourth stitch. You moved onto the next one, lacing the thread through the needle to start again.

“Don’t know how to use half the shit in the first aid kit,” now it was Ghost’s turn to ramble, “Usually just slap a bandage on ’n hope for the best. I mean, I’m not stupid, I don’t leave my shit untouched to get infected or anything. I just… don’t really follow up on any of my doctor’s appointments. But I’ve made it alright so far.”

“You should let yourself be taken care of more often,” you said softly. Your face grew hot when you realized the way that could have sounded and you added, “When you get hurt like this. You don’t have to always put on a brave face and grit through the pain. You need to take care of yourself.”

Ghost scoffed almost instinctively, but his heart swelled at your concern for him. He admired you for being so caring, not just to him, but to everyone on the team. Despite not always showing it, he cared deeply about all of the other guys on 141, he would die for any of them. He didn’t have a family, but 141 was the closest he had to one. The way his team interacted with each other was important to him, and watching how you melded with everyone else over the past couple of months, he felt happy, content. Your kindness only intrigued him more; he wished that he could be the only recipient of your sweet words and attention.

“Well, I– I don’t usually trust anyone to patch me up,” he attempted at some sort of compliment. Your eyebrow raised and you looked up at him.

“Hmm. So… you trust me then?” You asked cautiously. You heard stories about how Ghost hardly trusted anyone, and your heart began to beat faster at the implication that you had somehow made it on the list of those he did.

“You could say that,” he said. He cursed himself in his mind for not knowing how to properly talk to you, how to make you feel cared about the way you made everyone else feel cared about.

“And what’s that supposed to mean exactly?” A smirk spread across your face.

“Fuck’s sake, just take the compliment, will ya?” Ghost practically grumbled, sounding like an annoyed child.

You let out a soft laugh. Ghost put the sound of your laugh into the back of his mind, for safekeeping. “That’s your way of giving me a compliment, huh?” You teased.

“M’not very good at it, am I?” He sighed into a small laugh.

“Just a bit rusty,” you tilted your head up at him, your faces somehow closer than you had remembered, “But you can get better with practice.”

“Practice, hm?”

“Uh-huh. You can feel free to practice your compliments and pick up lines on me anytime.” You were too shy to make eye contact with him after that; you began to focus extremely on his wound.

Ghost’s right eyebrow raised slightly, unable to properly register whether you were genuinely insinuating that you would enjoy it if he flirted with you. As if he even knew how to. Suddenly, he felt embarrassed that he had no idea what to say. He thought about Johnny, and how his downright stupid pick up lines he used on people at the bar usually actually worked. There was no way Johnny would let him hear the end of it if he approached him for help with flirting, but Ghost wondered who else he would want to confide in when they returned to base.

“Almost finished,” you announced, finishing another suture. The skin was carefully pulled back together, only needing one or two more stitches. “I am fairly confident that this will heal very quickly and very nicely. Well, granted that you go back to the infirmary and get yourself followed up on.” You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly.

“Do I have to go to the infirmary when we get back?” He complained. You laughed at the way he practically whined.

You looped the thread again with the needle driver and began the last suture. In a matter of moments, you’d knotted the thread three times over and secured the suture flat to the skin. You moved your head closer to inspect your work, nodding and looking up at him.

“Well, I’m done stitching you up. And yes, you do, because you need to make sure your wound doesn’t get infected,” you said, half sternly. Soap told you probably hundreds of stories about Ghost refusing to get proper medical help after returning from a mission, and your fleeting former life as an almost-nurse made you feel very strongly on the topic. “Please, after all I did to stitch you together, won’t you make sure that it heals alright?”

His heart swelled. As much as he tried to push down feelings like this, he knew that he’d do anything for you. And you asked so nicely. However, he had a negotiation in mind.

“Well… What if I get checked up on by you? When we get back to base? You know, instead of going to the infirmary?” He raised his eyebrow and watched the gears turn in your mind. He prayed that his message would come across properly: I’d rather see you. I trust you more.

“Don’t go getting too attached to your medic, now,” you fake tsk-ed at him, but you were smiling, too. Ghost laughed. Too late for that.

“You can give me a once over when we get back. Vouch for me so I don’t have to go deal with the other doctors,” he pushed.

“You’re very difficult, Ghost,” you tutted. “But… I’d rather be the one to make sure you’re alright. That way I can ensure you’re following the proper recovery routine.” You reached into your kit again and got out a bandage roll. You reached out for his arm again, beginning to wrap the bandage gauze around his arm.

“And what kind of recovery routine would you want me to follow?”

You clicked your tongue, thinking. “You have to let me eat dinner with you in your room. And then after, I can check your wound,” you decided. Luckily, the words coming out of your mouth were far from Go on a date with me, but it was certainly the closest you’d get. Ghost hardly ever ate dinner in the common area with the rest of the task force, you assumed mostly because eating would involve him having to pull his mask up. Remembering this fact, you quickly added, “I won’t even look at you while you eat. I just… thought maybe you’d like some company.”

He stopped himself from blurting out something inappropriate, a dumb teasing line about you just trying to make up an excuse to get into his bedroom. His usual confidence to say whatever dumb, crass joke he wanted disappeared with you so close to him. He was more nervous than anything to scare you away, to say something that would make you not want to be around him.

“I’d accept that,” he finally said. “And… you wouldn’t need to do that.” He could feel his heart pounding out of his chest. “You’re allowed to take a look at me while I’m eating.” He smirked as he saw your cheeks grow red.

“I— I mean, I didn’t mean I wanted to like, stare at you while you’re—” you tripped over your words, stopping to take a breath and collect your thoughts. Slowly, you opened your mouth again, “Well, I mean, I am curious… I guess…”

Ghost was smiling proudly under his mask, finding it incredibly endearing the way you admitted your curiosity. He always stuck to his secrecy behind the mask for the most part; he was sure that the other guys had seen his jawline and mouth from the times he ate or drank around them, but they never made too big of a deal (besides Soap, who would use the mask as a prime source for his teasing). More often than not, on base, he’d retreat to his room to eat simply to avoid any annoyances around lifting the mask up and back down over and over. But now, really thinking about it, he realized he wouldn’t mind at all if you saw him eating. Maybe, just maybe, he would enjoy your company for dinner on a daily basis. He wouldn’t jump to that conclusion just yet, but in the back of his mind, he already knew.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Ghost said, “I’d rather be able to look at you and talk to you while we eat.”

“So you’re taking my offer,” you beamed.

“That I am. Now let me look at you.”

The lacerations along your own arm were stinging and bleeding, but somehow the high of the lieutenant caring about you overrode that pain. Still, you weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to have Ghost dote on you, although you had a feeling he wouldn’t be as gentle as you were with him. Either way, you let him help you take your jacket off and you shuddered at the few moments his bare hand brushed against you. He placed his hands on either side of you, on your shoulders, turning you more towards him, closer to him. He looked at your arm.

“Look, we have matching wounds,” he said, raising his own arm up next to yours. You let out a small laugh, not expecting him to say something like that. It was sweet.

“We both have something to remember this day by.”

“You want to remember this?” He asked, as if he weren’t going to think about the way you gently stitched him up and took care of him for the rest of his life.

“Of course,” you replied, “We completed our mission, quite well, I might add, and I think we make a good team. Plus, you told me your name. So of course I want to remember this.”

Ghost blinked at you, trying to decipher any evidence of disingenuousness in your face, only to be met with the exact opposite. Your expression was soft and genuine. Your eyes shimmered for him. Ghost wasn’t used to hearing such nice, kind things towards himself, and you could tell he wasn’t used to it by the way he remained silent, not even coming up with a dry joke to change the subject. You wondered how many times you would have to compliment him before you could really get through to him.

“You’re staring, Zero,” Ghost’s deep voice brought you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, “Can’t help that you’re nice to look at.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, trying to ignore the way his cheeks were flushing again. His hands were slightly shaky as he took your arm, closer to him this time. He shifted his whole body so he was completely facing you, ready to patch you up.

You had only been grazed by the bullet, but it still hurt like hell. Your whole right arm was burning up with a searing pain, not the worst you’ve ever felt, but it definitely wasn’t comfortable. The skin on your arm wasn’t torn open the same way Ghost’s was, with the bullet embedding inside, but it was like the edge of the bullet tried to scoop into your skin like a shovel into dirt. It didn’t go through or below the skin, but it was deep enough that blood was trickling down your arm. You were so focused on taking care of Ghost that you had barely noticed it.

“Fuckin’ hell, Zero,” Ghost said, his eyes widening in concern from seeing your wound more clearly. “You’re lucky the bullet didn’t lodge in ya.”

He reached next to him and grabbed a wad of gauze, dampening it with some water and placing it over you. His large hand placed pressure on you to stop the bleeding. You tried not to think about his hand pushing against you in a different context. His hands were warm on you and you couldn’t help but shiver. You hoped he didn’t notice the goosebumps along your arm.

After a few minutes of applying pressure to your wound, Ghost lifted up the gauze, inspecting you.

“Looks like the blood mostly stopped,” he told you, putting the wad of gauze next to him on the ground. He took out his own alcohol wipes, holding them up first as if to warn you This might hurt. He held your arm with one hand and wiped the wound with the other. The alcohol stung but it didn’t matter. Ghost was taking care of you. “Hold still.”

As he sanitized your wound, Ghost would wince whenever he heard you suck in a breath or make a small, pained sound from the alcohol. He didn’t want to hurt you. He wanted to be gentle with you like you were with him. Sure, maybe he wasn’t very good at all that, but he’d like to try, for you. His fingers brushed against your skin as he ran the alcohol wipe over the scrapes a few times, sanitizing the area and wiping away the blood.

“Don’t have any antiseptic,” he mumbled.

“Wait, I do,” you speak up, taking out a small tube of antiseptic ointment from your kit. Handing it to him, he put some on his pointer and middle fingers, gently making contact with your skin. He patted the ointment into the wound and the skin around it, his expression deeply focused to make sure he wasn’t hurting you. He wiped the excess on a small square of gauze and looked at you, as if waiting for approval. You blinked at him, smiling sweetly, and he turned away, always nervous when you smile at him, to reach for the bandage roll.

“I, uh, used to have a dog. German Shepherd. He got his back paw caught in a chain fence once and I had to bandage his leg and everythin’... Guess that’s the closest I ever got to bein’ a medic,” Ghost chuckled softly, unraveling the bandage and holding the end of it in place over your arm, using his other hand to begin wrapping it around you.

“A dog, hm?” Now that piqued your interest. “I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be a dog person.”

He shook his head. “Not really. More of a cat person, actually.”

“You’re joking,” you gasped. You tried to imagine Ghost with a cat cuddled up on his lap or chest.

“Cats get a bad rep,” he said. “I like that they’re independent and do their own thing most of the time. But they’re still sweet, they’ll still rub against you when you pet them and curl up next to you on the couch. They’re more stand-offish and brooding than dogs, I guess. But what’s so bad about that?”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” you whispered. Ghost locked eyes with you, and you could tell that his eyebrows were raised. He wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not. You continued, “But don’t worry. I really like cats, too. Misunderstood creatures. And cute.” You smiled at him, hoping to God he understood that you were trying to flirt with him. It was hard to tell, but you assumed by the way he chuckled softly and moved even closer to you to continue patching you up that he got it.

He placed his hand on your arm and ripped the bandage, placing the rest of the roll back into his kit. He repositioned the ending of the bandage so that it stuck on top of itself, keeping the wrapping in place without any need for medical tape. When his hands left your arm, you had to hold yourself back from frowning, already missing the skin-to-skin contact.

“Well, I think tha’ll do ya good, a’least until we get back, yeah?” Ghost said, leaning back from you a bit. Still, you noticed that the way you were sitting, your legs were still touching.

“Thank you,” you placed your hand over the bandage, moving and flexing your arm to see how it felt.

Ghost got up from the ground and began putting his jacket and tactical vest back on. He walked a few steps across the room where he had leaned his rifle up against a dusty table. Rummaging through his vest for some ammo, he began reloading his gun and humming ever so softly to himself. You watched him, your cheeks tingling with warmth. As much as you wanted to get back to base, you also didn’t want to leave this moment. You doubted that anyone else had the privilege to see him like this. In Ghost’s world, watching him reloading his gun was probably the most domestic thing you would ever be able to watch him do. When he finished, he turned and looked at you, completely catching you staring. You saw slight motion under the mask—he had to be smiling. The thought made your heart race. But you cleared your throat and scrambled to your feet, turning around to pick up your jacket and tactical vest off of the ground. You zipped up your jacket, half turned away from Ghost, but feeling his eyes on you.

“Zero.” His gruff voice sent shivers down your spine. You turned around and met his gaze. Those hazel eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Glad you’re safe.”

Your heart raced. Ghost’s heart softened.

———

The flight back to the base landed in the early hours of the morning. The sun had barely started to rise, the sky a deep pinkish red as you and the rest of 141 walked back into the building. Gaz and Price had successfully breached the hatchery, clearing it out and finding evidence of tunnels underneath the lighthouse on the island. Laswell would talk to Shepherd and figure out a game plan, but at least for one night, you would be able to relax.

As soon as everyone reached back to the barracks, everyone scattered into their rooms to clean up, unpack, and get some shut eye. Despite it being early in the morning, everyone on 141 hadn’t slept for at least 24 hours. You took a quick shower and changed into something warm and comfy, falling asleep in your bed without any tossing and turning. You awoke later in the afternoon, around four o’clock, stomach grumbling. Your face lit up, remembering your arrangement with Ghost—Simon.

You put some shoes on and freshened yourself up in the mirror, suddenly feeling nervous and yet you were so excited. Walking into the common area, you opened one of the fridges and took out a pasta dish you had made the other day. You split the leftovers in half, putting it into two bowls and microwaving them. Humming to yourself, you realized that you were actually getting the thing you’d been wanting ever since you met him: true, one-on-one time with the brooding lieutenant. Since yesterday, your feelings towards him had only blossomed further, and from the way he had looked at you and leaned close to you, you had a little bit of hope that maybe he could feel the same. You felt like a giddy highschooler as you took the bowls out of the microwave and quickly grabbed some utensils from one of the drawers. When you spun around, you almost crashed into Price who was entering the kitchen area with Gaz.

“Oh, sorry, Captain! Didn’t see you there,” you apologized but swiftly moved past them, barely paying either of them any mind.

“Where’s she going in such a hurry?” Gaz asked, raising his eyebrow as you continued down the hall. Price gave him the same puzzled look back.

“Hey, Zero!” Price called. You spun around. “Where are you off to?”

“Oh, I’m just bringing some dinner to Simon’s room!” you lifted up your hands with the two bowls of food to show them. Price and Gaz nodded slowly, and you were clearly in a hurry because you hardly waited for either of them to reply before you turned back around.

You turned the corner at the end of the hall out of their view. Both men were still staring at where you were standing seconds before.

“I didn’t know he let people into his room,” Price said, grinning ear to ear.

Gaz stood frozen in place, “I… Did she just call him Simon?”

Price choked out in laughter.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #simon riley fic #mwii #my stuff

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bumblesimagines · 10 months ago

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i bet your neighbors hate us.

you're wearing my shirt.

Guinevere Beck

you're wearing my shirt.

i bet your neighbors hate us.

Pronouns: They/Them/Their, GN!Reader

The dream of a nice vacation on a warm, sunny beach in a new country waiting to be explored shattered abruptly at the agonizing sound of your alarm blaring in your ear over and over again until you lazily pawed at your phone and somehow managed to silence it. You sighed heavily into your pillow and contemplated sleeping for a few more minutes that would surely turn into a few more hours, but you doubted your friends would appreciate you ditching them for sweet, out-of-reach dreams.

Lifting your head from the pillow and rubbing a hand over your face, your eyes cracked open when the smell of food slipped into the room. You lived alone and the only people who had copies of your apartment key either couldn't cook or weren't nice enough to. You rolled off your stomach and sat up to give your bedroom a quick scan.

You first noticed the clothes you'd worn the night before scattered around the floor haphazardly as if they'd been aggressively thrown around. The unfamiliar jeans and shirt stood out to you next, also on the floor alongside a pair of beige sandals and a vibrant red jacket that looked vaguely familiar to the one your sister's friend wore often. The bottle-blonde with pretty eyes and naive enough to believe your sister's other friend vaguely gave a shit about her otherwise known as the lit student your sister had taken under her protective wing.

...Shit.

Peach would have your head served on a silver platter or worse if she were ever to find out. She'd never been the most rational or level-headed, no matter how hard she tried to come off as put-together, and she'd become rather obsessive over... Bella? Beatrice? Your foggy mind refused to remind you of the aspiring writer's name but it happily reminded you of that time Peach had pulled you aside at a party to borderline threaten you into keeping a friendly distance from Beck because she 'already had one asshole in her life and didn't need another'. You could only pray Brooklyn? kept her lips sealed about the whole ordeal.

The door creaked open and the blonde poked her head, a smile breaking out on her soft features. "Hey, you're awake! I heard your alarm go off." She laughed airily, and somewhat nervously, before fully stepping into the room and tugging lightly at the shirt that almost covered her bare thighs.

"You're wearing my shirt." You mumbled in a still drowsy tone. Besty (you were fairly certain her name started with a B) nodded, her cheeks flushing a light pink as she glanced down at the shirt and smoothed it out with the palm of her hands. For a girl you knew too much about- other than her goddamn name- due to your sister's inability to not complain about those close to her, she seemed awfully shy. She'd had her fair share of encounters from what you'd heard and you doubted you'd be the last one-night-stand.

"I hope you don't mind. It was the first thing I saw when I got up and I didn't want to walk around shirtless." She chuckled and her eyes flickered up to meet yours, her smile turning mischievous. "Unless that's what you're into." Ah, there she was. The Bianca you knew from the countless parties you'd seen her in. Cheeky, sweet, and an overall hot mess that attracted trouble.

You released a huff of amusement and pushed the covers off to get out of bed and slip on the first pair of pants you got your hands on. "You making something?" You asked, pulling out a shirt from your drawer.

"Well, I planned on doing sunny-side-up eggs but I always end up burning them so I settled on scrambled instead," Berdie responded with a light shrug, her fingertips raising to toy with the silver necklace around her neck. Her cool and flirty demeanor faltered when you moved closer to her but she quickly covered it up by cupping your face and pressing her lips to yours. Her arms wrapped snugly around your shoulders and she let out a flustered giggle against your lips.

But the moment felt too intimate, too close and domestic for your liking. With a family like yours, it was best to keep everyone else at arm's length. The Salingers destroyed whatever and whoever got too close, the things around them wilting and rotting at just the lightest touch. People were often ruined beyond salvage over the smallest of things. You'd lost count of how many careers and lives had been ruined by your family over a bruised ego or the slightest hint of rejection.

Almost as if sensing your hesitance, Brianna pulled back and cleared her throat, tucking a strand of hair behind her reddened ear. "I bet your neighbors hate us. We were... pretty loud."

"The Daltons are too busy traveling Europe and ignoring their kids to care." You reassured her lightly, combing your fingers through her soft, frizzy hair. "I think we should probably talk about this... Guinevere."

"How many times do I have to tell you to just call me Beck? Guinevere is... a lot." Beck. Close enough. "But, yeah, we should talk."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x male!reader #you x reader #you netflix #you netflix x reader #you netflix x male reader #you netflix x you #you x male reader #guinevere beck #Guinevere Beck x reader #guinevere beck x reader #Guinevere Beck x male reader #Guinevere Beck x you #Guinevere Beck x y/n

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bad268 · 11 months ago

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heyy, could you write some kimi antonelli comfort? like, reader gets a bad grade or smth, idk, just some light and cute fluff

Any Time, Any Where (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Clearly (In honor of me failing my final, please enjoy this lol)

Warnings: Failing a test

Pronouns: You/your

W.C. 764

Summary: After failing their final, the reader seeks comfort from their boyfriend, Kimi.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Google/F2 announcement article)

You studied so hard for that test. You really did. You prepared so much for this test, looked over the class notes, did the practice tests, and even went to the professor’s office hours for extra help. You really worked your butt off for that final exam. You went into that test thinking that you knew every topic that could be asked.

You did not walk out that way.

It seemed like every question asked about the niche topics that you did not think would be on the test. For that reason, you did not work on memorizing those smaller topics. Honestly, you should have because this 37/100 was not what you needed this close to the end of the semester.

You were still in shock as you walked back to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, Kimi. You knew he would be back since he texted you that morning along with wishing you luck on the test. Clearly, none of that luck helped you, but you still appreciated his effort. Plus, you just wanted to be held by him.

You walked up the stairs to the third floor where your apartment was before stopping just in front of the door. You took a deep breath as you tried to recenter yourself before walking in. The last thing you wanted was to bring down Kimi’s mood because of your bad grade. You wanted to enjoy this short time with him before he went back on the road for post-season testing.

You finally pulled out your key and opened the door, immediately taking your shoes off and setting your bag on the counter. You turned your attention to where Kimi was moving around the kitchen. You did not really feel like talking, so you just walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning against his back.

“Oh, hi,” He chuckled, placing one of his hands on yours as he briefly looked back at you. “I didn’t even hear you come in, amore (love).”

“I tried,” you sighed, attempting to bury yourself deeper into his back, inhaling his scent as he turned around in your arms. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders as he used the other to lift your head to meet his eyes. He tilted his head as if asking what was wrong. It was a face you did not see often, but you knew what he wanted to know, causing you to sigh again. “Don’t look at me like that, please.”

“Do you want to talk about it or forget it while we eat and rewatch your favorite movie?” He offered, running his hand through your hair before resting it against your neck lightly. “I made your favorite.”

“As long as I get to cuddle you, I’m in,” you chuckled quietly as you leaned into him more. He laughed with you as he swayed with you around the kitchen, knowing it was one of the things that made you feel better. He was not in a rush to do anything, and in all honesty, he did not want to let you go just yet.

~~ The next morning, you woke up still on the couch. The television was still on, but it was showing the “Are you still watching?” screen on Netflix. You remembered finishing your favorite movie and starting Sex Education (Oscar recommended it), but you could not remember much after the first episode.

Kimi was still behind you, in the same spot you remembered him being. He still had his arms tightly wound against your waist, and his face was still hidden in your neck. You tried your best to turn in his arms without waking him up, but it’s easier said than done on a small couch. It did not take long for Kimi to get jostled awake, eyes peeling open to meet yours as he let out a yawn.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, amore (love),” you whispered, not wanting to disrupt the environment or startle him too much. “Grazie (Thank you) for last night, ti amo mio amato (I love you my beloved).”

“Any time, any where,” he whispered back, leaning forward to place a small kiss on your forehead. Then your cheeks. Followed by your nose. And finally your lips. He pulled back just enough to ghost his lips over your lips as he gazed into your eyes. “I will always be here to make you feel better. No matter where I am, you will always come first. I will spend forever reassuring you of that if I have to.”

~~~~~

#andrea kimi antonelli x reader #andrea kimi antonelli #kimi antonelli x reader #kimi antonelli #kimi x reader #prema racing #formula 2 x reader #f2 x reader #formula 2 imagine #formula 2 #f2 imagine #f2 #mercedes amg petronas #mercedes amg f1 #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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wing-ed-thing · 11 months ago

Text

Childhood Friends to Lovers Relationship Headcanons

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns Not into romance? Here's some platonic childhood friends with Iruka hcs!

𓆃 It's a very natural progression, especially if you're in the same age group as Iruka and remain moderately involved with the village growing up.

𓆃 Iruka is friendly enough to be able to bond with just about anyone, and given you're in similar circumstances after the Nine-Tails attack on the village, you're bound to be drawn to one another.

𓆃 Especially if you're left with few loved ones, being around others who share your circumstances makes your situation feel less lonely. At least, that was the idea when the Third Hokage implemented the youth programs for those who lost family stability.

𓆃 It was an awkward series of after-academy and weekend activities thrown together by a bunch of volunteer shinobi who didn't know much about kids, but you and Iruka wouldn't know better until you were older.

𓆃 These programs were also open to children whose parents were now working around the clock to assist the village, so even if your circumstances didn't resemble Iruka's, you could naturally find yourself in similar spaces.

𓆃 You probably couldn't even recall the exact moment you and Iruka became friends at all. You just always remembered him there and could hardly think of a time where Iruka wasn't in your life.

𓆃 (Iruka remembers. He's told you once before. Something about helping him out when he was new to the program and grieving, but you don't actually remember any of that.)

𓆃 He's always the first person you invite to your group outings with friends and he always makes time for you. He actually always makes time for anything you invite him to, whether you explicitly ask him or hint that you'd like him there.

𓆃 For a lifetime, he's been at every graduation, performance, and new life event you could ever ask someone to be at.

𓆃 Iruka was also always at your place, and if he wasn't at yours, you were at his.

𓆃 Any family you have surely already considers him one of them, your more sentimental— or otherwise slightly ditsy— family forgetting that Iruka isn't another blood family member.

𓆃 As you get older, your friends or extended family will constantly assume that Iruka's your partner. From your teenage years on, everyone will assume that you're a couple whether you are or not.

𓆃 And, well, you practically are a couple. You see each other every chance you get; you talk to each other every chance you get; you work in complete and utter tandem, that even people who don't know you very well assume that you're a couple.

𓆃 With his proximity to the people closest to you, it's an appropriate assumption and when you do finally get together, no one's surprised.

𓆃 Hell, even if you decide that marriage is for you, no one would be surprised about that either.

𓆃 "I thought you were already married," practically every shinobi in the village will most certainly say upon your announcement.

𓆃 Children will be a large part of your life whether they're yours or not, strictly because of Iruka's status as a teacher. His students mean the world to them, and by extension, it's probably for the best if you get as least a little involved.

𓆃 Your dynamic will work best if you show a level of dedication on par with his, whether you're another teacher, a sensei, or even simply drop by with treats every so often.

𓆃 The students think that ANBU warriors are fascinating and giving demonstrations of your superior kunai skills never fail to impress.

𓆃 "You'll only be able to do that if you do all your homework on time!"

𓆃 Your relationship is village-centric. Perhaps you won't be setting off on any crazy joint-mission anytime soon, but you will have a close, natural relationship and a village full of people who absolutely adore you.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Not into romance? Here's some platonic childhood friends with Iruka hcs!

#iruka x reader #iruka umino x reader #iruka #iruka umino #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #naruto #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #reader insert #x you #x reader #naruto shippuden

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major-wren · 1 year ago

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I love the "ARK siblings" concept and I love cute lighthearted fanart of them being siblings but I feel like a lot of people forget that they literally canonically share a soul and that her death is, in my opinion, I think supposed to represent a part of one's self dying and that they're supposed to be, symbolically, a lot more than siblings.

I always saw Shadow's story as a symbolic way to express the way your inner child and innocence is sacrificed in order to survive complex childhood trauma. Maria's color scheme and the way she's written is, I think, clear to all of us how she's meant to represent innocence and youth. I mean, she doesn't really function very well as a stand-alone character or realistic depiction of a child, shes always been more of an.. idea.

I'm not sure if it was purposeful, but the moon's "Maria" are craters that formed from the moon repeatedly taking the hits of asteroids at it's points of gravity. These points of gravity attract asteroids and draws then away from the Earth. The craters are mostly on the side of the moon we see, so the dark side of the moon, or "shadowed" side is better protected because of that. I feel like this is an extension of Shadow and Maria's symbolism. She took the bullet for him, protecting him, the same way Maria takes the comets, and the same way your brain will sacrifice your inner child (or freeze/rush your mental development) in order to survive intense childhood abuse. I know it all sounds extreme lmao but at the end of the day characters and storytelling are used to explore and express hard emotions and I don't think this randomly tragic character sprung out of nowhere for the Sonic games, which, before that point, always had very lighthearted positive characters (except for the echidna extinction in the game right before Shadow's). Having a character that was easy to approach, yet could represent scarier concepts as a child-friendly stand-in, felt like a very important tool to me growing up. I just hope that that writing can be appreciated in his character, with an understanding of how messy production can be and how a character can get pulled between many different people and ideas. I do think this symbolism was intentional to some degree, especially when it gets to the blatant soul-sharing and how characters insist that Shadow can't be a weapon because Maria's soul (his inner child and true morals despite the damage done to him) makes him "good hearted."

There's other things that uphold this symbolism of Maria dying as representing his inner child being killed, like the rushed/suspended mental development in the face of trauma being illustrated by the fact that Shadow was forced into a dormant cyro slumber right after Maria's death, symbolizing the way he had to basically skip childhood or hit pause on development until he could escape the people controlling him. Much like how victims will have to pause everything and go on autopilot with only a goal of survival until they can escape their situation; only after they feel safe can they begin growing as a person and find their identity. In the Japanese language, there are different types of pronouns people can refer to themselves with instead of just "I" or "myself." In the Japanese dub of SA2, Shadow's creator said in an interview that he had been very insistent on Shadow using the pronouns reserved for young boys, despite Shadow's menacing villain role in the game, because he felt it was important to show Shadow's purity and his lack of experience in life so far. That "live and learn" theme.

And then in his self titled game, Shadow is searching for a way to reconnect with his past and to find the truth about this Maria person he keeps seeing in flashbacks, but in the end he throws away her picture and accepts himself as he is now, forever changed and stained by his past, but more than just a product of his situation. He is "all of him," including the negative impact he never asked for, and including the parts of himself he lost, but also the parts of himself he chose to become. Your environment and childhood shapes you even if you didn't want it to, but that doesnt mean you cant have control in your identity and recover your inherent nature once you've escaped the negative influence (nature vs nurture theme). He will never be the person he used to be, or could have been, (represented by Maria as a pure and untouched youth), but he still has a say in what that grows into.

I just feel like a lot of Shadow's identity issues and inner conflict stem from this whole soul sharing situation with Maria and that his character ends up inevitably being misunderstood if you water them down to just siblings. Especially considering that it was never answered if Shadow actually even ever met Maria or if they're just memories planted by Gerald or caused by the shared soul. In Sonic Battle, it's also said in Gerald's diary that not only do Maria and Shadow share identical souls, but that Gerald literally modeled Shadow after Maria out of his love for her. I'm not sure to what degree or in what ways, but Shadow is supposed to share purposeful similarities with Maria, likely through the content of her character and her morals. That's what makes them so much deeper than just psuedo siblings, he's not only made for her, but designed after her too. It can't really be compared to, for example, Sonic and Tails.

I also think its what makes Shadow's character so substantial and meaningful. His self titled game's entire theme was purity, morals, what is good and bad. This question of purity and morality spreads into his appearances in other stories too- This question that, if you were badly hurt in your youth and shaped by evil- does that leave you impure? Stained? Destined to continue that cycle of harm and cruelty? I think these insecurities feel very real and relatable, and that it's even more realistic that despite these insecurities, that hurt and damage is actually what fuels him to protect others. Just as he said in Sonic Battle, "There's no need to repeat past tragedies! Nobody else ever needs to go through the things that I have!"

Statistically (despite media portrayal) abuse victims RARELY become abusers, because they understand the pain on a deeper level and can't bring themselves to force someone else into experiencing that same pain, knowing the permanent damage it causes. However, childhood abuse leaves people socially stunted and conditioned to harshness, which causes them to accidentally hurt others without meaning to. Or they end up hurting people out of desperation if they feel endangered (like Shadow's "means to an end" approach where he'll prioritize violence if it means reducing the end-impact). Also, they are more susceptible to being abused again after escaping the first abuser, because they are so susceptible to manipulation- Just like how whenever Shadow does switch sides, its usually because someone manipulated him into it or literally brainwashed him. I think Shadow conveys all of this so well, and that Maria's true role is an integral part of it all that can't be ignored or misunderstood, or else Shadow ends up reading as unnecessarily violent or overly obsessed with her when you interpret her as just a sister-figure that he knew for... who knows how few years.

I think this symbolism runs deep with his writing. Just like Maria's meant to be that inherent purity and inner child, I think the black arms DNA is that stain that abuse or trauma can leave on you, that causes you to act out or feel like you're always holding back and trying to keep control over some darker part of yourself that was left behind in the damage done. Especially since they literally have a mind link with Shadow. In the Sonic Universe comic, they succeed in brainwashing Shadow and turn him against his friends. These mind-links, soul-sharing, and brain-washing from both Gerald and the black arms... To disregard the fact that he's deeply connected to these people on a metaphysical, identity altering level is to water down his character and leave it feeling as though his motives are too weak to justify his harsh actions. I've seen people poke fun at his amnesia or insecurity in his identity, as though his confusion isn't justified, and I think it's because people don't realize he has these... literal fragments of other people inside of him, that that's pretty much what he's made of, kind of franken-steined together between a little girl's hopes and morals, an alien race's hivemind greed, a weapon-hungry government and a revenge maddened scientist's painful grief, and even the chaos emeralds which we all know are spiritually whacky and potentially connected to another alien race's memories and energies (the ancients from sonic frontiers). With all of that going on, plus some amnesia mixed in and his memories having been altered by Gerald- I mean.. you'd be searching for the "truth" of your identity too, who you really are. And of course, prone to frustration and aggression, or even a "wish-washy inconsistency." I think there's always a constant tug of war inside of him and that his whole development was a game of tug of war between Gerald, G.U.N and the black arms too. "Am I a cure, am I a death-bringer, am I earth's protector, am I it's destroyer," etc etc

Idk I just think a lot of problems people have with Shadow's writing stems from not realizing how deep things go and what they symbolize. Not to say that something like his boom characterization is of good quality or anything, but I think it's unfair to call him inconsistent when a confusion in his own identity and purpose/goals is kind of the point. And I think people not realizing Maria's deeper, physiological connection to him and influence might be part of the problem.

#major mumbles #shadow the hedgehog #ark siblings #maria robotnik #gerald robotnik #sonic the hedgehog #sth #shth #sonic adventure 2 #shadow the hedgehog headcanon #sonic headcanon #sonic analysis

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niki-phoria · 1 year ago

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pairing: dabi x male!reader (no pronouns used; masc reader) genre: angst (??)/suggestive word count: 755

includes: reader being shirtless, lowkey asshole dabi, smoking/sharing cigarettes, might make a part 02, written with male reader in mind

a/n: school starts tomorrow for me (<//3) so fics will probably slow down for a while but i've had this idea for a while so i figured i would write it, lowkey based on this

summary: late night smoking with situationship dabi

likes, reblogs, comments, and feedback are always appreciated <33

pushing the door open, you wander into a nearby alleyway. you can still smell the weed from the group of stoners that live in the flat above you. at least they have the decency to go outside. cool air stings against your skin as you step out onto the freezing concrete - silently cursing yourself for not at least grabbing a coat before you left.

despite the goosebumps rising along your skin, you stumble further into the darkness before leaning your back against the brick wall. it feels damp against your bare skin - likely from the storm that had hit last night.

you hold a cigarette between your lips as you flick the lighter on; cupping your hand around the small flame. you slip the plastic device into a pocket of your sweatpants once the cigarette begins to burn.

the familiar feeling of smoke invading your lungs gives you an unsettling feeling of comfort. your eyes flutter closed as you slowly exhale; letting the fumes hang heavily in the air.

your eyebrows furrow as the events of the day swirl throughout your mind once again. a sigh escapes your lips as you take yet another puff from your cigarette, hoping the methodical action will somehow improve your breathing - like the exercises your counselor had drilled into you from behind her thin glasses and scowl.

breathe the smoke in. breathe your worries out.

“bad day?”

a voice interrupts your silent introspection from above. your features contort into a scowl of your own. the sun had set long ago, disguising the man in darkness; though you recognize him by voice alone. you can almost picture the smug smirk on his lips - staples pulled taut because of the action. this time no smoke leaves your lungs when you exhale.

“something like that.” exhaustion drips from every word that leaves your lips. you’re sure he’s picked up on your annoyance, though he makes no move to leave you alone.

dabi’s combat boots scrape against the half-wall he had been kneeling on as he jumps down onto the ground below. your tired eyes meet his own as he casually wanders over to stand beside you - so close that the denim of his jacket brushes against your shoulder.

against your better judgement, you shift slightly to look over at him. your eyes study the stitches decorating his coat and jeans. everything about him is covered in staples; it seems.

bright blue eyes meet your own when you finally look up at him. disheveled black hair falls into his eyes. you resist the urge to reach a hand up to brush the stray strands back into place - instead taking yet another long drag from your cigarette.

“wanna talk about it?” he asks, breaking the prolonged silence. it’s not an unusual question, though it’s once that you find particularly difficult to answer. nothing from dabi comes for free.

you flick the cigarette between your fingers, watching as the ash falls to the ground. you can feel dabi’s unrelenting stare on you with each movement you make. piercing blue eyes study your expression: the way your lips have remained in a slight frown; your still-furrowed eyebrows; your gaze fixated on the wet ground you’re both standing on.

before you can take another puff, the cigarette is stolen from between your fingers. dabi takes a drag himself before almost immediately blowing the smoke into the air around you. your protests die on your tongue when he reaches over to grab your face. his fingers feel hot against your skin. your breath hitches in your throat as he leans in until your lips just barely brush against each other.

dabi’s hand falls to gently wrap around your neck, keeping you steady. “y/n,” he murmurs. your own name sounds foreign to your ears.

“touya,” you whisper. his fingertips heat up even more. your hand snakes into his hair, tightly gripping the strands.

“let me take care of you.” his breath ghosts against your lips. you unconsciously lean even more into his touch. “just for tonight.”

“you always say that,” you mumble, though you make no effort to pull away.

dabi’s hand ghosts against your waist. despite his natural warmth, his touch still sends shivers up your spine. “and i always mean it.”

it’s a bold-faced lie and you both know it, but you remain silent for the moment. vulnerability has never been your strong suit either.

instead, you lean in until you catch dabi in a kiss - molding your lips together the same way you always do.

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spicysix · 2 years ago

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crush crush crush | steddie X reader

eddie likes steve. he's not subtle about it. he's also brave about it, unlike you, and development: steve likes eddie back. you like both of them. well, ain't that just your fucking luck?

warnings: canon divergence, brief mention of homophobia/lgbtqphobia, polyamorous relationship, gn!reader (use of they/them pronouns), buckley!reader, fluff. and my already known absurd use of italics word count: 7.6k author's note: this one has been a long time coming! i started writing it so, so long ago, and it's finally ready! i really hope you enjoy it, and if you do, don't forget to reblog! comments are always appreciated as well ♡

↳ ao3

Eddie was not very subtle.

Well, you actually weren’t sure he was even trying to be subtle, but, if he was trying, it was definitely not working.

Not with all the stolen glances, and the closeness and proximity every chance he could get. Not with all the pet names, and the cat calls, and with the ‘getting nervous and panting and kind of sweaty’ every time he saw more skin than just arms - like a little stomach when a shirt lifted, or a neck when a head was thrown back in frustration.

And you got it. You could definitely understand the appeal. Steve was very handsome.

When he took off his shirt to dive into Lovers Lake to find a portal, while Eddie lit up a cigarette you looked away because you saw the way Robin glanced suspiciously at Nancy - honestly, Robin was the only one not appealed by Steve's lack of shirt - and you did not want that kind of glance being thrown at you too. And after Steve was bitted by those fucking demobats, you saw it in Eddie’s eyes how he wished it was him bandaging Steve up instead of Nancy - and you also kinda wished it was yourself. He got way too serious about throwing his vest at Steve ‘for his modesty’ too.

And when Eddie called Steve ‘big boy’, Harrington was not the only one who got flustered, because suddenly your head was filled with many images that were not appropriate for the running-from-the-cops-and-also-from-a-interdimensional-monster situation you were all in. Eddie seemed so proud for making Steve lose his words. You just stood in the back of the RV and tried to ground yourself instead of giving into the little green feeling growing inside your chest when Nancy sat at the seat beside Steve while he drove. You heard them talking about kids, for fucks sake.

And when Steve looked so worried about Nance, did everything he could to wake her from her trance, even started singing a song he thought she liked, and was later so focused on listening to her plan. When he gave you a tight hug right before he left with the girls to the Creel house, you almost melted into a puddle. Then he looked so worried about Eddie, asked him to not play the hero when the actual plan was about to start, you could understand if Eddie's heart skipped a beat because yours definitively did - and you were sure the metalhead wanted to say something else when he called out for Steve, but he settled for ‘make him pay’ instead.

And you actually thought it was a one-sided thing, but when Eddie woke up weeks later in a hospital bed, in a different state, after literally almost dying in your and Dustin’s arms; you, Dustin, and Steve were there to see him wake up, the huge smile plastered on Steve's face was enough to light up the whole room and Eddie's own smile reciprocated. And you looked at Dustin feeling like you were interrupting something. And they shared a hug, and Steve was cautious not to hurt Eddie's tummy filled with bandages and stitches. And you and Dustin said you were going to grab a coffee, and when you came back they looked a little pinker in the cheeks than they were before and their hairs were all out of place - Steve’s hair was never out of place.

So, yeah, you could understand Eddie's crush on Steve. With his brown soft hair, all prepped up with too much Farrah Fawcett hairspray (Dustin couldn’t keep a secret for his life), always smelling so good. And his caramel soft eyes, worried about everything and everyone around him but himself. And his preppy, stupid polo shirts and jeans combo, always ironed - you were pretty sure he ironed them himself. The freckles that went all the way from his neck down his torso and his back, splattered in such pretty patterns you kinda wanted to connect them like dots in a kid’s play. With your tongue, to be more precise.

But! YOU, specifically, did NOT have a crush on Steve. You just understood why Eddie did.

When all dust had settled and you were able to go back to Hawkins - thank god for Hopper coming back from the dead and giving Eddie all the alibis he needed, and thank god for their FBI friends for covering everything up as they did with the mall situation the year prior - Steve was very eager to have Eddie staying at his place while the metalhead (and his uncle, of course) searched for a new home. Because his trailer was destroyed, of course. And he was still recovering from all the injuries, of course!

Steve was very smart when he needed to be.

Not everyone in Hawkins was entirely convinced of the whole made-up story, and some people were still very rude to Eddie and the Hellfire boys on the streets, but Hopper was definitely more respected than Powell. So no matter what some people thought, the truth installed was that Eddie was innocent after all. Everyone just had to accept that.

After a while, as life went back to normal - as normal as it can be when you’ve saved the world more than once and half the town was under restoration because of an ‘earthquake’ - you started noticing how the boys were always together. Like when you’d pass by Family Video to see Robin (to see Robin, okay!) and Eddie was also there, leaning on the counter with a soft smile as Steve registered someone else’s borrowed tapes.

Or when you’d go downtown and see them together sharing a banana boat on the new Scoops Ahoy franchise that opened up again on Main Street. Or when you’d volunteer with Robin and Vickie to help those whose houses were destroyed and both boys were also already there, following each other around on their assigned tasks. Or when you went to parties or threw your own parties and they always came in together, never left each other’s side, and went back home together too, always just the two of them.

One day you went to Eddie’s work at the music store and Steve came in behind him as he stepped out of the ‘employees only’ door.

I mean, there’s only so much someone who’s not an employee can be doing with an employee inside a ‘employees only’ room. We all know that.

“Hey, guys,” you greeted, faking obliviousness as you went straight to the New Wave session that was slowly growing as more bands went famous across the country - famous enough to reach Middle Of Butt-Fuck Nowhere, Indiana.

“Oh, hey babe!” Eddie smiled as he came to your side. “What can I help you with today?”

You pretended not to shiver with the nickname. “Well, aren’t you employee of the month,” you mocked, looking at Steve (still behind Eddie) from the peripheral, whose cheeks just went pink. “Do you have New Order’s latest?”

“Oh, I think I saw it back there!” both yours and Eddie’s heads turned to Steve as he enthusiastically revealed, and if you thought he was pink before, he had just created a new shade of pink just then.

“I’ll go get it for ya,” Eddie gave you a smile trapped between real and fake and left for the infamous ‘employees only’ back room.

You smiled at Steve, your own smile trapped between soothing and teasing, and turned your attention back to the vinyls in front of you. A few moments passed in silence before he decided to talk again.

“You’re going to Robin’s this weekend?” you looked him straight in the eyes after his question. He could not be serious.

His prolonged silence made it clear that he was serious.

“You do realize it’s my house too?” you asked.

“Oh Jesus fuck, yeah, no, of course!” he waved around and you couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I know, you’re siblings and all, I keep forgetting that, ‘cause you’re nothing alike, of course it’s your house, it’s just, I was wondering maybe you had, like, another commitment, maybe a date, I dunno, can’t hurt to ask right!” he was babbling.

God, he was so cute.

No, scratch that. Forget it, you’ve never said that. Forget it right now!

“No plans at all this Saturday except to hang out with you nerds. Don’t worry,” you winked at him and he let out a sigh as he smiled.

Eddie came back from the inventory room, New Order’s ‘Brotherhood’ in his hands and that typical huge smile on his lips. “There you go, babe.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and paid for the vinyl before leaving, waving at them through the huge glass windows of the storefront. They waved back just before you saw them running to the ‘employees only’ room again.

Guess they were in their honeymoon phase.

You were completely fine and not envious at all.

-x-x-x-

Saturday arrived, and as you were serving soda to the kids playing board games on the coffee table in the living room, Steve and Eddie walked in knowing there was no need to knock. You walked past them as you went back to the kitchen to fetch some chips.

“There you are!” Eddie sounded excited, a six-pack in one of his hands while he pulled you in for a tight hug with the other one.

You smiled. “Where else would I be, doofus? Hey, dingus.” You waved at Steve through the cloud of Eddie’s frizz.

The boys followed you into the kitchen to put their stuff in the fridge. Nancy and Jonathan were intertwined leaning on the island and only let go of each other to say hello to the newcomers as you poured potato chips onto a big bowl and went back to the living room. Everyone else came back with their drinks in hand, including Robin and Vickie who were in the garden for some reason, and chatter began.

This was something you tried to do at least once a month, reunite with everyone including the kids - especially since Hopper and Joyce joined forces and decided to stay in Hawkins, god knows why but you were grateful for it.

That month the reunion was set on your and Robin’s house, your parents finding it weird that their adult offspring were friends with so many high schoolers when you explained that what you were having was not a party, but a friendly get-together. They let you host it anyway, even with the weirdness of it all, when you promised to clean the whole house - not just the living area where you’d all be at - afterward. And they went for a date that night, to give you the full house - very nice of them, and good for them, you guessed?

Everyone had been busier, with the younglings busy with high school and the young adults attempting at adulting, but you all felt the need to check in on each other every once in a while, and just hang out together in peace instead of trying to fight bullies, or Russians, or interdimensional assholes. Shared trauma was a great bonding experience!

A few hours later you, Mike, and Erica were fighting to decide which movie you were all going to watch when Steve and Eddie came back from the kitchen with a chocolate pie they had brought and several plates and forks. Eddie cleared his throat loudly and the room went quiet, looking at them.

“I, uh, we wanted to share something…” Eddie said as Steve put everything on the coffee table. You adjusted yourself in the bean bag you were lying on. “Me and Harrington, we, uh. It’s just, like. I don’t know, I don’t think you’ll be mad or anything. I mean, it’s not like it’ll be a first-time thing, I know you’re all cool with it, considering Robin and Vickie, it’s just. Uh.”

“We’re dating,” Steve went right to the point.

There was a loud silence for at least one whole minute before Dustin spoke up.

“Okay, and the actual news is?”

Eddie and Steve blinked at the same time.

“What,” was more of a deadpan than a question out of Harrington’s lips.

“You really thought we were all this dumb?” Lucas asked gesturing around to point at everyone in the room. Everyone was nodding along.

“Neither of you is subtle. Like, at all,” Max wasn’t even looking at them anymore, sharing a She-Hulk comic with El.

You couldn’t hold your laugh any longer and saw the unexpected couple looking at you immediately. “You knew too?” Eddie sounded really offended for some reason.

You laughed louder, almost falling out from the bean bag. “Are you not listening? Everyone knew! I went by your work this week and you came out of the back room together! Your clothes were all crumpled,” you pointed at Eddie and heard everyone giggling along.

“And we saw you coming out of a dressing room in that fancy store Steve likes. Also together,” Mike pointed at him and Will, who nodded enthusiastically, a shy smile growing on his lips.

“Eddie’s not even trying not to flirt with you in front of our other clients anymore,” Robin stated.

“You were licking on the same popsicle when we went to the lake the other day. At the same time,” Nancy pointed out.

“Nothing serving as a barrier between your tongues besides a very thin strawberry popsicle,” Jonathan concluded with a smirk.

Both boys looked actually astonished as if they were so sure they were hiding something. They looked at each other again before sighing and sitting down in the only tiny space left on the couch, Steve almost in Eddie’s lap. You turned your eyes away.

“So is this our celebratory pie? For our fist man-on-man couple of the group?” you asked, already diving in to get your piece. “Here’s to many more to come!” Mike choked on thin air, you pretended not to notice.

The conversation was easily shifted back to the movie discussion, the couple ‘news’ soon forgotten as you all settled back into your domestic routine, pies in hands, beers and sodas being shared (age appropriately!), and screaming about terror versus action. Again.

-x-x-x-

Robin had called your work in the middle of your (and hers) shift to invite you to come with her, Steve, and Eddie to the movies after all of your duties were over. You’ve said yes and thanked the gods you always took a change of clothes with you to work so you wouldn’t have to show up to the theater in your ugly uniform.

Not that there would be anyone there you wanted to impress. Of course not.

As you arrived, the boys were already there, but your sister was nowhere to be seen. “She’s in the bathroom or something?” you asked. They shared a glance.

“I thought you’d talked to her?” Steve questioned. You raised an eyebrow. “She wasn’t feeling so good, so she went home. Said she’s sorry.”

“Something about diarrhea,” Eddie grimaced and you sighed.

“Great, love being the third wheel,” you murmured under your breath. “You wanna go do this by yourselves? We can reschedule. Invite Jon and Nancy next time too.”

“No, we wanna go with you!” Steve stated quickly and Eddie coughed loudly. “We promise not to go overboard, okay? We’ll put you in the middle seat.”

“Also, not everyone in Hawkins is nice. Mostly no one, to be honest. So we’re not adept to PDA anyways,” Eddie concluded, shrugging. “Basically no one knows we’re dating except for you, our friends,” his voice was in a very low tone, almost whispered, to not draw attention.

You empathized, also keeping your voice low. “Yeah, that sucks. Robin and Vickie are always complaining about it, and they’re also not openly affectionate to each other in public places. And honestly, I’m really scared for them sometimes. I know Robs can stand up for herself and Vickie, but they’re also so tiny. Little babies,” you brought your thumb and index finger together, showing how really smol your younger sister and her girlfriend were. “And people are mean.”

“What’re some bigots in comparison to a real-life D&D monster, babe? Don’t worry,” Eddie put his arms around your shoulder, Steve on your other side, guiding you to the ticket booth.

Eddie paid for the tickets - something about a fly, yeah, the bug - and both you and Steve fought for the right to buy the popcorn, but while you were bickering Eddie went and bought those himself too. As you finally went to the screening room and took your seats, Steve was serious about you being in the middle. Eddie went to the bathroom while the trailers didn’t start.

“So that’s what he’s like as a boyfriend? Doesn’t let you buy stuff?” you curiously asked Steve while shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth. You kept your voice low again so no one would easily hear you talking.

He smiled dreamily. “Yeah, especially since he’s been getting ‘clean money’, as he calls it, with his ‘grown up’ job.” He made quote marks with his fingers. “He’s a really thoughtful guy. I mean, that was already obvious before, but as a partner… it’s different, you know?” you nodded and asked him to continue. He was getting flustered, talking about the boy he liked made him look so cute… You just had to. It was all you would ever get from him, anyway. “He’s very affectionate, as you could guess. He has to always be touching me in some way. I thought I would get annoyed at some point, but it still hasn’t happened and, honestly, I don’t think it will. I like touching him at all times, too.

“He also likes to do everything together, even silly minor tasks like getting groceries or something. Gets me little gifts almost every day, and not always stuff he buys, but things he sees that remind him of me. Flowers that he steals from other people’s gardens, he once bought me a heart-shaped pebble. It’s so stupid,” he giggled.

Giggled!

“And I love it. He’s so kind. People treat him like shit most of the time, and he’s still always as polite as he can. Only fights back the really aggressive ones. Kids are scared of him because of their parents’ closed minds, but he approaches them and tells them not to fear, and plays stupid magic tricks to get them to like him. Helps old ladies cross the streets and shit. He’s probably the best person I know,” he was rambling. Your heart was so full. “And I had no idea, you know. That I could feel like this for another guy. Eddie calls himself my bi awakening,” you both shared a laugh.

“You deserve it, Steve. After Nancy…” you gulped lightly, and so did he. “I didn’t think you would ever get over her. And she wasn’t able to give you the love you deserved, not her fault obviously, but still true. It wasn’t meant to be between you two. But you and Eds really fit together. Pieces of a puzzle, Dingus and Doofus. You give each other the love you don’t give yourselves with those annoying low self-esteem of yours,” you nudged him with your shoulder and he looked down to laugh, but you saw his eyes watering.

After a while, he looked up. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. I’m really, really happy.”

His smile was really brighter, and his eyes sparkled more. He looked lighter as if part of the huge hero weight he carried on his shoulders had been lifted. You could imagine that the fact that your lives not being in constant danger helped, but love… Love gets you through anything. And you were really, really happy too - for them.

When Eddie came back from the bathroom, bowing for a girl to walk in front of him to her seat, the trailers were already starting. And the bright light from the screen enveloped him in a kind of aura, and his hair looked so fluffy, and his Motorhead shirt sleeves were rolled up to his shoulders, his arms covered in tattoos for show. His shredded jeans, and his chain belt, and his funny wonky walk, and the way he fiddled with his rings. He threw himself at the sit beside you, his arm instantly coming to the rest of your chair behind you while the other reached for the popcorn bowl on your lap, his huge trademarked smile plastered on his face and his beautiful calf eyes looking into yours. You gulped. Something inside your belly swirled.

“Ready for the film, babe?”

Your heart almost leaped out of your chest as you nodded and smiled back at him.

Shit.

You had a crush on Steve.

And you had a crush on his boyfriend.

You were so very screwed.

They gave you a ride home, even though your house was way off their own route, and made you sit between them in Eddie’s van too. Steve’s arm was around you and Eddie’s hand occasionally touched your arm or knee and they let you choose the songs - even though none of you shared musical taste by any means - while you commented on the movie. They even got off the van to give you hugs when you arrived home.

And although you had one of the best afternoons ever, you were also mentally exhausted.

Apparently, finding out you had crushes on two people who were dating each other and then spending your whole day trying not to make heart eyes at their every move was very draining.

Robin was in the living room, a random rom-com on the TV that she and Vickie were pretending to watch, while they were actually attached to each other’s mouths. They let go when they heard the door closing behind you though. Your parents were still not home from their jobs.

“Hey, how was the movie?” your sister asked excitedly. You raised an eyebrow.

“The movie was fun,” not that you had paid a lot of attention. “The being a third wheel part, not so much,” you got closer to them and messed up Robin’s hair. “I actually realized I have a massive crush on both of them and kinda wanna throw myself off a cliff right about now.”

You and your sister had absolutely no secrets between you (that’s how you ended up with her, Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, a random middle-school nerd and a very sassy ten-year-old trying to break into a secret Russian base under the town mall Summer of ‘85). So it was a no-brainer that you were gonna tell her about your crushes. And you knew she was gonna tell Vickie anyway, so you just said it with her there and then.

Vickie’s eyes widened with your confession, but Robin didn’t seem to bother. “Yeah, honestly, I had that figured out. I know you too well, ya’ know. Can’t hide shit from me anymore. I’m glad you uncovered your truth, though.”

“Fair,” you shrugged. “You look good for someone with diarrhea, by the way,” at that, she did look guilty about, while Vickie laughed loudly, but you wasted no more time before heading to the bathroom.

You needed a long, calming bubble bath to realign your chakras and rest your stupid, stupid little head.

Later that night, contradicting your expectations Vickie went back to her house, and Robin knocked on your door with a PB&J sandwich for you that she left on your nightstand. You were already under the covers, your head buzzing with so many thoughts and feelings that you were no closer to understanding. And apparently, your sister knew that. She laid down beside you, both of you on your sides facing each other.

“How you feeling?” she asked, basically whispering.

You whispered back: “Like shit. I dunno what to do.”

“Do you wanna do something about it?” her hand found yours under the covers.

“I don’t think there is something to be done about it, Robs. They’re dating.”

You both went quiet for a few minutes. You were trying not to cry, but your sister’s caresses on your palm and the warmth of the blankets around you were making it very hard.

“I really thought Steve liked you, you know?”

“What?”

Robin smiled sweetly at you. “Yeah, he would constantly bring you up on random conversations at work. Wanted to include you in every plan we made,” she paused just for a minute. “But, in hindsight… he did that with Eddie too.”

“Well, Eddie reciprocated him faster. And made his move, so there’s nothing I can do about it now. And I’m happy for them, I really am. They look - they are! So happy together. This,” you gesticulated around yourself, “just some goddamn sour grapes. It’ll pass.”

“Yeah, it will,” she got closer to you and hugged you, and you finally let your tears drop.

“Might take some time. Might take some distance,” you sniffled. “But it’ll pass.”

-x-x-x-

You were serious about the distance.

So you tried to steer clear of Family Video, except on days you knew Steve didn’t have shifts on. You thanked every god and the universe that none of the bands you liked released anything so you wouldn’t have to go to Eddie’s work to buy new vinyls or tapes. You’d see them on the streets and take a detour, a longer route home, walked into stores so they wouldn’t see you back.

Robin noticed, of course, she knew you like the palm of her own hand, but she didn’t comment on it. She would invite you to movie sessions with her and Vickie and would hold herself so they wouldn’t be too touchy and accidentally make you feel bad. Not that you would actually care. It wasn’t them you were in love with, your bitterness was not that big.

You even tried to go on dates of your own, tried to force the crushes out of your system. People who’d ask for your number at work, one of your coworkers, even someone that started a conversation about mayonnaise on the market aisle once. But none of them were nice enough, or funny enough, or sweet enough, or snarky enough, or caring enough, or Steve enough, or Eddie enough.

You felt like the biggest idiot in the County.

You couldn’t hide from them forever, though. You couldn’t hide from them at your monthly get-together. Especially when it was being held at the Munsons’ new apartment - mostly financed by government hush money.

And you were avoiding Steve, Robin - his other soulmate - wasn’t. Therefore, it wasn’t a huge surprise when he pulled up on your driveway to give you and your sister a ride to his boyfriend’s house that night. You tried your best not to act like an asshole, but as you sat in the backseat you knew you were quieter than normal. You could feel Steve’s eyes on you through the rearview mirror at every stop at a red light. He didn’t ask, though. He just kept listening to your sister’s rambles.

But, after he rang the intercom and Eddie opened the gateway and Robin ran up the stairs, you tried to follow her but Steve stopped you with a weak tug on your arm. You turned to him.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his hazel eyes filled with worry. You softened.

“I’m good Stevie, can’t wait to see Eddie’s apartment, shall we?” you tried to get past the conversation, but he didn’t let go of your arm.

“You know you can talk to me if something’s wrong, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Seriously, don’t worry. Let’s go, Eddie must be wondering where we are already,” you pulled your arm with strength enough to be released from his grip and went up the stairs without waiting for an answer. You heard him sigh, though.

When you reached Eddie’s floor, he was standing in the doorway. “There you are! For a second I thought you’d bail on me, babe,” he said, and if you had ever heard him call Steve babe you could swear he was talking to his boyfriend. But he only ever called you babe.

He pulled you in for a hug, and you squeezed your eyes shut at the smell of his cologne, the way his hair tickled your nose, the way his cold rings felt against your warm skin, and how he was tracing circles with his thumb on your shoulder.

This was way too hard.

You gently pushed him away, ending the hug faster than you really wanted it to end, and looked at his face. “Give me the tour, will you?”

He grinned widely at you, but you didn’t miss the questioning look he threw Steve behind you before he turned and started showing you the apartment. Dustin, Max, and the Sinclairs were already there - Steve picked them up before he did it with Robin and you.

It wasn’t a huge apartment, but it was enough for Eddie and Wayne. They had a fairly big living/dining room, separate from the kitchen, and two bedrooms now. Eddie’s room was already filled with posters on its walls and ceiling, the usual mess the boy used to make already scattered on the floor. Sweetheart had her special spot on the wall too, looking as beautiful as ever.

As you went back to the living room, complimenting and congratulating Eddie on the house, Nancy arrived with Mike and the Byers siblings. As a heartwarming gift, you had all agreed to participate in a campaign that day, even Steve, Max, and Nancy went for it - after lots of bribery, but still. You had always been curious about it, so it didn’t take much to convince you too.

So you all gathered around the dining room, pulled out your character sheets - the kids helped you create your own characters along the month - and settled for what you knew were hours of adventure. And some (a lot of) bickering.

The one-shot campaign was a success. Eddie was a great DM - not that you knew a lot about that, but it felt like he was a great DM. He said he had some insights from Will, who looked very proud of the help he provided. Everyone seemed to have a good time, even Nancy, Steve, and Max who reluctantly smiled their way through the campaign. Dustin had a blast that his favorite humans were together and enjoying the same things at the same time. Your characters saved the day in the end and it felt rewarding.

Mr. Sinclair had passed by and taken both his kids, plus Dustin and Max, home. Vicky was on her way there to get Robin and you. Nancy and Jonathan, in the living room talking to El, were waiting for their brothers, who were in Eddie’s room talking to both him and Steve.

As you were coming back from the bathroom, you couldn’t help but listen to the conversation.

“…so yeah, Will, it’s absolutely okay to like boys,” Eddie’s voice wasn’t loud, but you were just by the door so it was clear enough for you to hear.

“And how did you know you liked both?” Mike asked.

Steve cleared his throat and before you could pry even longer into their conversation, you passed by to the living room, sitting beside your sister on the couch, arms crossed.

“Okay?” Robin asked, and you nodded. El looked at you in that curious stare she had, and Nancy pretended not to notice. Jonathan was staring at the wall. Probably high out of his mind, and missing Argyle.

You poked on your cuticles until the LGBT lecture for the baby gays was over, and the four boys walked out of Eddie’s room. You smiled as sweetly as you could at Will and Mike - Will smiled back, but Mike seemed kinda shocked and so his smile was more of a grimace. Poor boy needed time to settle into his self-discovery, apparently.

“Shall we?” Nance asked and El and Jon got up from where they were sitting on the floor. They all said their goodbyes to Steve and Eddie before getting out.

A few minutes passed by in awkward silence, you and Robin sitting on the couch, the boys standing up in the middle of the living room, no sign of Vickie. You could see your sister and Steve having a weird telekinetic conversation, you knew he was the other third of her soul, and was already fearing for your life because your sister was known to make stupid-ass decisions.

“I’m gonna take a wee!” aaand there she goes.

She got up way too fast and you couldn’t hold her arm to force her to stay, and so you saw yourself alone with. The boys you liked. It was like your body was preparing itself to ignite into explosive inside-out combustion, a mantra rolling in your head repeatedly ‘calm the fuck down, breathe in-breath out, calm the fuck down!’, not helping very much but you still tried.

Eyes closed, you felt the couch sinking as they both sat beside you. You took a glance and Steve was directly to your right, Eddie beside him, both of them sharing another silent conversation before Steve turned back to you.

“So-” your attempt at cutting the ice was cut out.

“I like you,” Steve blurted. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

“Steve, what the fuck, Eddie’s sitting right there,” you discreetly pointed at the other boy, your voice somehow caught between a yell and a whisper. Eddie wiggled his fingers at you.

“Yeah, he’s part of the conversation?” Steve answered, sort of asked, and you couldn’t be more confused.

“What.”

“We both like you,” Eddie joined, scooting closer to Steve, making Steve scoot closer to you, making you scoot a little backward.

What the fuck was going on.

“You. Both? Like me?” they just eagerly nodded. “Well, that’s fucking weird. Like, not normal. At all.”

“Is it, though?” Steve asked, no malice in his voice, eyes full of affection. “You like the both of us. Is that weird?”

“WHAT-how-what-no?! What! ROBIN?” your eyes went straight to the little corridor leading to the bathroom where your apparently betrayer of a sister was, and you could swear you heard some thumping coming from that direction.

Steve stretched out his arms, ready to touch you before he gave up. You couldn’t decide if you felt grateful or sorrowful. “No, your sister didn’t betray you. She didn’t have to tell me, I can tell when people like me.”

“You couldn’t tell with me,” Eddie pitched in, and you suddenly remembered he was there. Quieter, probably for the first time in his life. Why was he so quiet?

Steve rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’s remark. “Yeah, okay, I said people, not big ass confusing nerds.”

“Are you telling me they’re not big ass nerd?” Eddie pointed at you, but you were still in too much shock to even process what he was saying.

Steve looked at you again, his eyes going back to that affection you saw before, and he called your name sweetly, and you had absolutely no idea what that conversation was and what you were supposed to tell them because, yeah, you liked them, but what? They liked you? And what the hell were you all supposed to do with that?

You didn’t have to answer, though, because Robin got out of the bathroom and Wayne walked in through the front door, and Steve and Eddie scooted backward again, and you got up faster than your sister did with her ‘wee’ whatever.

“Robin let’s fucking go goodnight mister Munson nice to see ya bye boys what the fuck!” you didn’t stop to hear any of their answers, nor for Robin to catch up to you, nor to take a fucking breath, and just bolted down the stairs.

You had a lot of thinking to do that night, wrangled up in your sheets, a PB&J sandwich by your nightstand, Robin probably cuddled up to you.

What the fuck.

-x-x-x-

Two whole weeks passed by.

You continued on your ‘avoid them at any costs’ plan, even though Robin was all up in your ass bugging you to talk to them, even though you told her you didn’t know what to say, even though she practically gave you a scripted speech, even though she tried to convince you it couldn’t go wrong, even though she was most probably right, even though she kept saying Steve and Eddie were in sour moods, even though you felt like shit for making them sour. Because you still had no idea what to say.

But you were also in a sour mood, because you missed them, and because you didn’t understand but you wanted to understand, and because your crush was probably more than a crush, and you really wanted to see where all of this could go even though you have never heard or seen anything like this. Deep down in the confusing fortresses of your heart, you were willing to be a pioneer on that matter. Even if you very likely wouldn’t pioneer shit.

And so when your feet automatically walked six blocks from your work to Family Video on a random Tuesday after your shift, and your heart unclenched a little bit when you saw both Steve’s bimmer and Eddie’s van - and no sign of Robin’s bike -, and when you walked in and saw it with our very own two eyes that even though they were clearly happy to be around each other - Eddie bugging Steve in his closing shift - it felt like something was missing there, and you desperately clung to the idea that what was missing was you.

“How’d you talked about this?” you asked, their heads turning to the sound of your voice, Steve instantly letting go of the broom he was swiping the floor with, Eddie instantly standing up from where he was all slouched over the counter.

“This… what?” Steve asked, his eyes avoiding yours for a second to look outside from the glass doors. You turned around and switched the plate from ‘open’ to ‘closed’. Fuck Keith if he complained Steve closed half an hour earlier.

“This. You liking me. How did you get to that subject, and then decided to bring it up with me?” you pointedly looked at Eddie. He was way too quiet last time. You needed to hear him saying.

He apparently understood you just fine, “I brought it up. Even before we agreed we were each other’s boyfriends, I asked Steve something similar, how did he know he liked me, and he told me how confused he was because he liked both me and you,” he said.

You gulped and tried not to deflate.

“And Eddie said, quote-unquote, ‘fuck yeah they’re the best, I really think I like them too’. And we didn’t do much about it, because we didn’t think there was anything to be done, and soon we were serious about each other. Until Eddie took us to a gay bar he used to go to in Indy,” you think you remembered Robin talking about this to Vickie someday, their plans on going too.

“And we talked to some of the people I knew from other times, and we ended up talking about you a few drinks down, and. Apparently, there are people who date more than one person. And it’s okay,” Eddie shrugged as if it was nothing, a shy smile on his lips, and you hadn’t noticed but you were all a few steps closer to each other. Steve’s broom forgotten on the floor, both of the boys’ eyes on you, adoringly, sweet as fucking candy, a whole conversation they had about you with strangers at a gay bar in Indianapolis.

“I need to sit down.”

Steve brought you a cup of water, and Eddie was sitting beside you on the ‘employees only’ room couch in the back of Family Video. Fucking ‘employees only’ back room. Eddie wasn’t sitting too close, but he wasn’t far, and that was comforting.

You gulped down the water in practically one go and settled the cup on the side table. Scooted a little closer to Eddie, patted down on your other side, Steve followed your command and sat down too. You couldn’t look at them, though, not yet.

“You did your research”, your voice was quieter than you wished.

There goes being a pioneer, you guess.

“We weren’t even looking for it, the information just literally landed on our laps,” Steve said.

“We were just rambling on and on about the person we both like. A lot,” Eddie smirked, but there was no real danger in his smile, never was. Your shoulders decompressed a little, and it was like they were both waiting for that to scoot a bit closer. Eddie’s hands just beside your thigh, Steve’s arm draping behind you on the couch.

A few minutes passed by, your mind a whole mess of a race, but they waited patiently for your next question. “How would that even work?”

“Like any other relationship. Except it’s three of us instead of two. And we can have dates, no one will know it’s a date besides us, it’s what Eddie and I already do, people think we’re just two guys being bros. We will look like three friends hanging out, but we will know.”

“And we can sit next to each other and hold hands, hidden under the diner table, we can have a whole schedule,” Eddie joked, you chuckled, and he held your hand. You let him. Squeezed his fingers with your own. “And sometimes we can go to Indy and we don’t have to hide there.”

“Or we can have home dates, and Eddie can cook, and I can bake, and you can just sit there and look pretty as you do,” Steve’s fingers grazed on the nape of your neck. You got goosebumps.

“Are you saying I can’t cook?”

“Well, last time your lasagna was not that good-” you let go of Eddie’s hand to swat at his thigh, and he laughed out loud. “Just kidding, babe, it’s just cause we wanna treat ya,” you quickly held his hand back.

“You know how Eddie likes to treat the ones he cares about,” Steve said, and you remembered your conversation at the movie, that day.

“Did you plan that movie? When Robbie had ‘diarrhea’?” Steve’s cheeks turned instantly pink, and you and Eddie both snickered at that.

“Stevie might have begged your sister to leave,” there was so much fondness in Eddie’s voice, and you noticed just then, how much fondness was in the voice he used to talk to you, too. “You make him nervous, you see.”

Steve’s ramblings made more sense.

“You make him nervous too, he’s just the weird kind of nervous,” Steve remarked, and now Eddie’s quietness the other day made more sense too.

God, you had been oblivious.

“And we can make this work? You really think we can make this work?” you asked, still unsure. Okay, you weren’t a pioneer, but you still had never heard of this before.

“We can totally make this work, babe. I swear to you is not as complicated as it seems. Is just-” he interrupted himself, thought for a second, his eyes staring intensely into yours, vulnerable, a little pleading, decided to go with it: “Well, it can be just love.”

Eddie’s words echoed in your head for what felt like a long time. Not a fucking crush, oh no. You knew them too well for that. You knew yourself too well for that. All of the fear washed in a wave out of you, and you sighed a happy sigh.

Just love.

Felt right.

“Feels right,” you said, feeling Steve’s forehead thumping on your shoulder, his fingers getting lost in your hair, he was closer than before.

Eddie was closer than before, you looked at him, his nose touching yours, his breath tickling your skin, suddenly his lips on yours, and your whole body collapsed into him, your fingers still tightly holding onto his, your free hand searching behind you for Steve’s hand, Eddie’s free hand in your face, cradling your jaw, so gentle, his lips so soft even though you knew he had a habit of picking on the skin there, but he was so soft, so soft, so soft.

Steve’s lips were on your neck, and suddenly you switched it up, let go of Eddie’s lips, turned your head, now Eddie’s lips on your neck, your lips on Steve’s, he was soft, you knew he liked Chopstick, he was real soft, but his fingers on your neck, tugging on your hair, his hands on yours, he was a bit frantic, not as slow, not as gentle, just as sweet, sweet as fucking candy, and you were going into a sugar-coma, head spinning, breath caught, couldn’t wait to do this over, and over, and over, and hiding in a diner, and in a gay club in Indy, and in your house, and their house, in their beds, or your couch, and over and over and over again, dizzy with all the expectations because you felt it, right through those kisses: you could make this work.

You would make this work.

It was working already.

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