#slow burn probably

[andieperrie18]

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader

Themes: Angst, Hurt with no comfort in beginning, just pain in few chapters, therapy, Ghibli movies, move on, second chances, reconciliation probably, Slow burn, inspired by Taylor Swift songs.

Warnings: Angst, Hurt, Sadness, Alcoholism (that's it so far)

Setting: post RE6, events of Vendetta and pre Death Island

Plot: when you love someone, you know to yourself that what they'll give is what you deserve and what you give is what they deserve. Y/n knows that Leon is like any drained agent in DSO. And like her, he craves a sense of normalcy. And ever since working together and growing closer and closer as time passes, they've come to the realisation that they could be each others home.

But there was a certain bagage her fiance can't seems to let go off. A woman she has internally competed for his heart with. Everything was still in good hands as it was Y/n who had a silver band on her finger. Until the events in Lanshiang happened... It all sauntered downwards then on...

Chapter Links:

One: champagne problems

Two: happiness in exile

Three: right where you... (coming soon)

future chapters in progress...

AO3 Link

Current Song Inspiring me:

[emloafs]

me welcoming back the binary boyfriends fandom from the dead for the inevitable crumbs we're gonna get for s6

[eternity-death]

Had the thought/realization that regardless of if the Dream Master approved or disapproved of Sunday pursuing you, Sunday would still choose not to.

There are just too many factors that prevent him from doing so. A lack of time, for one. Sunday’s duties keep him on his toes constantly; he can’t find a moment of rest even in his sleep. He foresees his negligence of your relationship, and though unintentional, it still wouldn’t be fair to you.

His status as Oak Family Head would be another problem. How would you fare under the overbearing pressures that come with being his lover? Penacony is a planet of lights, glamour, and gossip. All eyes will be on you as soon as your relationship is publicized. You will be held at standards far higher than ever before, and the other Family Heads will be expecting nothing less. Sunday couldn’t possibly bring himself to burden you with all of this.

And of course, there’s his grand plan for Penacony.

I think that he’s been anticipating his sacrifice for a loooong time. Sunday acknowledges that he’ll be hurting you by leaving, and if you were in a relationship, then he would be hurting you even more.

You will be furious with him, surely. You’ve always chastised him for his self-destructive work habits.

But the image of you eternally safe and sound within Ena’s dream is enough to lay any rueful feelings to rest. He hopes that one day you’ll find it within yourself to forgive him.

[avocadotoast0]

I'm really glad they are taking a slow-burn approach with Oshamir. If the cut kiss had been kept in the finale, it would have felt forced. Osha isn't mentally ready yet—she's still grappling with having killed her father figure and her sister losing her memories.

Why rush the romance? I'm very eager to watch Qimir slowly break down her walls, the tension build, and Osha realising she actually desires him and how she’ll react to that. It's also refreshing to see the guy fall first while the girl is still indecisive, and I'm happy there's a strong emphasis on consent in their relationship.

[sugarcoated-lame]

this new wave of joel miller brainrot may have just given me a new fic idea 🤭

so it’s joel x pregnant widow!reader in jackson 👀

some ramblings about it below the cut 🤍

reader’s husband dies on patrol, and she finds out a few weeks later that she’s pregnant

joel and ellie move into jackson when reader is 3-4 months pregnant, no one in town really knows about her pregnancy except for tommy and maria, and the town doctor — she wants to keep it to herself for as long as she can

i’m thinking reader is going to be like the town seamstress?? and joel goes to her to patch up his jacket after he rips it one day out on patrol

joel’s seen her around town in the few weeks he’s been in jackson — always looking sad, and always alone.

he’s immediately drawn to her — her kind voice and demeanor that’s oh so sweet on the surface, but he can see the way her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, the sadness in them.

•

idk where I’m going with this or when I’m actually gonna write it, but aaaah i just had to scream about it !!!

[myokk]

an afternoon by the black lake🫶🫶🫶

[dailydoseoffanfics]

pressure spoilers btw quick heads up

is there like human sebastian solace x reader fics out there i already found some in this website and a03 but ngl i want more of it (but i understand why there's a lack of it 💀 there's barely any information of his human years other than he was accused of murdering 9 people lmao) (and yes i know he's canonically married to zerum but I DON'T GIVE A SHITE 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 /silly)

[sophiethewitch1]

we've read about dick and tim being pathetic, but I wanna know the strange, stoic way Damian would be pathetic for reader if you're up for it :) I love your writing!!!

Points at camera like I'm on a gameshow! You, dear reader are lucky you came to the right blog!!!

So, we all know what cats are like when they like someone, right?? Just, following them around constantly. They don't want pets, they don't want to get picked up, they just want to watch you from a distance of five to twenty feet. Anyway, that's Damian!

He's in love with you, he needs you, he wants to keep you, but he has his pride!! Well, for a while at least. He's clingy, of course but he just... pretends he isn't?? It doesn't really work after the first few times. Pressing kisses to your forehead and holding your hand. And he'll do it while he's glaring at you.

Now, if you break up with him or reject him, you are going to see true brattiness. Monstrously bratty. How dare you? How dare you think you can leave him, reject him? He's the heir to the Al Ghul and Wayne dynasties. He gives you everything. And you don't accept it?

...Okay, you thought he'd stomp off after that. He's not leaving?? He's just... sitting outside your house...?? Why the hell is he glaring at you through your window???? It's not your fault????? Damian, however, is absolutely certain it is your fault. He will sit there through rain and snow, deliver you gifts and takeout, and wait sadly and grumpily till you take him back. And I thought he was impatient!

Unfortunately, while you saw him as a cat, he thought the same with you. While you see him as tame, he thinks of you as some wild alley cat that needs to be caught for it's own good. He just needs to slowly acclimate you to him and you guys will be right as rain. Maybe some treats will make you like him more? He'll figure it out, that he's confident of. Don't tell him he's being silly, you will just make things worse.

[noctude]

gay people love laboratories because of the. slow burn and the chemistry

[siddyyyyyyyy]

University Romance

Johnny 'Soap' McTavish x female!Reader

part three; two, one

wc: ~3k

summary: You and Johnny are two professors at a university, and he often catches you working late in your office. Also, you're just really good friends and there's probably more to it.

warnings: none, no y/n used, 'crazy' chemistry professor Soap, Johnny and Reader are about the same age, the name of the university is fictional

a/n: this is probably the most cheesy and frustrating part of them all. Have fun!

Redcrest High Acedamy, Friday 12:30 PM

»Dad wants to grill tomorrow. Some relatives are joining too.«

Johnny is thrown out of his thoughts, not having seen you approach him. He puts his empty food tray away and processes your words, finally looking at you.

»Oh, nice... and I'm invited, I guess?« You huff at his question, crossing your arms at him.

»I wouldn't tell you if you weren't.«

He nods again at your words, pretending to have been sarcastic about it.

»Right, right... I'll also be there tomorrow. Just text me when.« You stop walking at his words, expecting something more from him. He also stops, looking at you confused.

»We'll go shopping before that. Together.« You clarify, making him feel dumbfounded. Of course you'd need to go shopping together. How was he this stupid to miss out on that? Seriously.

»Oh, right. Yeah, right... um, when's that?« He asks this time and rubs the back of his neck, probably trying to come as casual as possible in front of you. In reality, Johnny is experiencing five stages of grief in his mind. Grilling with you and some relatives, also going grocery shopping with you before that? There's absolutly no reason for him to try and create another personality just for that occasion at all.

From the day he got to know your father, he also found out about the so-called relatives. All very close friends from your father that had a history in the military or CIA. He knew he was doomed. Not exactly knowing why, but he is sure everyone would be at least a little spooked by your family once they hear about their professions.

Eventually, you decided to go straight to the shopping mall after the last lecture. It was a little over seven in the evening once you arrived in the grocery store; it had the perfect temperature for a nice walk. Finally, you are inside the store and can start following the list your father sent you this morning.

Going around the aisles, you made Johnny carry the basket while putting the items into it. It's mostly him following you around and inspecting the grocery store at the same time. Once you get to the meat section, he can't help but make a joke.

»Oh, I know bigger meat than that.« You pause at his comment, keeping the pack of raw ribs in your hand, and look to him beside you, puzzled.

»...Those are ribs, Johnny. What do you mean?«

By the dumb smirk on his face, it's not clear if he is more amused by your confusion or his own joke. He tries again, taking a subtle step closer to you.

»You know, the-«

»Soap? Miss Price?!«

Another voice from behind you luckily interrupts you both, making you glance behind your shoulders. The rather annoying voice is instantly recognised by Johnny; you are having some trouble with it, however. But judging from the way the younger man had used the nickname his students gave Johnny, it's not hard to put the pieces together.

»Carl...« Your colleague sighs out, his shoulders slumping down as he looks to his student. Of course, you had thought about possible students spotting you in the grocery store, but you've also never thought there would be actual students of your university in here.

»What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be doing the assignment I gave you?«

Johnny continues in a more firm tone, but Carl is definitely not fazed by it, instead looking between the two of you briefly. It must be weird for him to see his professors at a grocery store, only having seen them in the university. They have a life outside of that building?

»Yeah, but I also have to take care of my groceries. I'm also an adult, you know?« Carl counters back easily, his eyes fleeting to the basket Johnny is holding and at the ribs in your hand, briefly.

»Oh, are you preparing for the grill party you talked about?«

Now this makes you look to Johnny with a rather scolding look, having thought he stopped talking about you in his lessons. Johnny scoffs as he senses your look, really needing to get out of this situation. He eventually shakes his head and tries to say something appropriate, even when he wants to curse his student out and make him fail all his classes.

»Carl— really bad moment. Do you really want more trouble? You already failed that experiment and almost caused a fire, I would just walk away in your position.«

Finally, Carl nods and looks sheepishly to the ground. A brief moment of silence goes by before he speaks up, more quieter this time.

»There are steaks in sale in the last row... Just so you know.«

He mumbles before finally stepping off and possibly making his way out of the store. However, very unfortunate for Johnny, you are still there and clearly bemused by the situation.

»I thought you stopped talking about me in your classes. We talked about this.« You put the pack of ribs with less gentleness into the basket, huffing out slightly.

»Look, I know... this, well...I really just told them about a grillparty. I never said your name or anything.«

Johnny is trying his hardest to not make you any more annoyed by him, being angry towards his poor student now. He hovers his hand by the small of your back, subtly guiding you around the store to try and keep you close, at least.

»I really, really didn't say anything about you. I promise you, I just said, 'I'm going to a grill party this weekend, don't expect me to grade all your stuff 'til Monday.' That's literally all I said, and the boom-box just had to be noisy.«

He rambles out while you keep your eyes on the grocery list in your phone, not being able to actually be upset for long. He is practically using the beat up puppy look on you now, which is why you won't look at him. After a few silent seconds, you relent by rolling your eyes and exhaling softly.

»Just tell your 'boom-box' to stop being so noisy and loud. And, for the love of God, stop talking about your private life in your lectures.«

Johnny smiles relieved and finally puts his hand on your back properly while guiding you to the last row. He apologises again and keeps closer to you this time, as if afraid you would change your mind if he went away for a minute.

In the end, you brought all the necessary stuff from the grocery list your dad wrote, standing by the cashier now. The elder lady scans the products while you go through the list one last time, noticing you're missing an item.

»Oh, Johnny, could you grab some mushrooms, please?«

He nods and eventually lets you sort the scanned items into the basket for now, making his way to get mushrooms. While he is away, the cashier smiles warmly at you and finally speaks up.

»You guys are lovely! I love seeing fine gentlemen like your husband; I really wish my son was as nice as your husband, he really needs someone to settle down with. But I am really happy you have such a man like your husband, there needs to be more men like these.«

Before you could respond to her ramble, Johnny was already back with the mushrooms you sent him to get, taking back the basket from you and continuing to sort the items into it like before. He is oblivious to your flusterness from the lady's words. Johnny, the fine gentleman he is, ends up paying for the groceries and carries them back to his car with you.

While driving you back to your place, he can't help but notice how quiet you've become. Did you change your mind and are still upset about him and Carl? Should he actually let his student fail at his class?

He decides to not address it for now, hoping he is just overthinking again and shouldn't even think in the first place.

----

House of your Dad, Saturday 2:16 PM

The time you should all meet was 2:15 PM, however, Johnny is one minute late. He is also the earliest one. Always has been by far.

You're preparing the stuff for the grill in the kitchen with your dad, hearing the door ring. John, your father, makes his way to greet the first guest, already assuming it's that chemistry freak of yours.

And after opening the door, he's greeted with Johnny McTavish, in his flesh. They greet each other as usual, a strong bear hug, followed with the usual small talk they have as they're catching up.

They finally arrive in the kitchen, helping you out with getting the ingredients ready. Both John's are now setting up the grill, while you get to greet the other guests; Laswell with her wife arriving at second.

Nikolai, or as you call him, Uncle Nikolai, arrives almost right after the pair and gives you a warm hug as well. He settles on helping on the grill while catching up, a cup of a sweet drink in his hand. Lastly, Frank arrives, or as Price usually calls him by his nickname, 'Woods'. Or Uncle Woods, for most of the time, for you.

The names really are bizarre, but you've stopped questioning them after the third time of asking as a kid. Seriously, Woods? Like, the one's in the forest? Price? Like, the tags on stuff? What kind of names are those?

Besides the funny names, all these close friends of your father were and always are nice to you. Even with their obscure, horrifying, and action-filled stories that they carry around, these are always people you can trust and feel loved by.

Laswell takes you out of your thoughts, as you're all sitting at the table in the backyard, while the others are standing by the grill with a few drinks in hand and making sure everything is nicely cooked.

»How's work, sweetie?«

As always she smiles kindly at you and waits for your answer, her wife sitting beside her as she also waits for your answer. You three mostly talk about the typical stuff, getting into small talk before Laswell gets to tell you a story from probably a few years ago, when she still worked with your dad together before retiring.

»... But Nikolai didn't know and thought he just fell out, informing John, and he almost lost his mind! Imagine; your father stressed, while following the vehicle that I was taken hostage in; finding out his sergeant fell out of the helicopter. Insane, right? But luckily, they rescued me and nothing bad happened.«

You listen to the story as your aunt laughs lightly, finding some kind of humour in that horrifying 'story'. It was clear that your father and his friends had a broken humour, hardened by all the things they saw, but it always manages to amaze you.

»He did have his safety-rope on, right? Nothing happened?«

You ask, wanting to hear her clarify that again, and they aren't laughing about somethig tragic now. Nikolai joins by, sitting down on the chair beside you.

»Oh, he did, he did... He was as fine as a cucumber.« He answers your question with a soft chuckle, seeing the rather worried look on your face before you relax again.

Soon Johnny is placing the grilled meat and sausages on the table, your father joining at the table with more sweet drinks and glasses. Woods also joins eventually, sitting down with a small grunt besides your dad. Everyone is settled, getting some salads on your plate and the grilled goods, enjoying the light atmosphere as some R&B playlist is softly playing in the background.

»When are you getting married, son?« Nikolai nudges Johnny lightly and waits for his answer. Of course, the most dreaded question on the table comes on. Johnny just shrugs, trying to answer casually and shrug it off as best as possible.

»When my students will stop giving me grey hair.«

Uncle Woods barks out a laugh at the opposite of the table, looking to him. »Don't. You'll wait until retirement if you keep that up.«

»When I was your age...« John, your father starts, not meaning to sound like a total boomer but still gets interrupted by Laswell.

»Yeah, you were almost working yourself to the bone at his age and locked up one of the most wanted terorrists. Don't start talking.«

She scolds lightly, taking a sip of her drink while Johnny sulks secretly beside you. Your aunt didn't mean to sound mean or as if Johnny didn't achieve anything in his life, but it still makes him stare at his plate full of regret for a brief moment.

The evening goes by with fun chats and more unbelievable stories from the time from their military time, eventually sitting contentedly at the big table. The sun is lower on the sky now, making up for a casual orange tint across the backyard. After talking some more, you decided to clean up the table together, Nikolai helping you while doing so. Johnny tried to help out as well, but got held back by Price, letting him sit at the table for now, while you and Uncle Nik are preparing to put the cakes out and get some warm drinks.

»Now, son... I've got a mission for you.«

Price starts in a low tone, turning to face him better and make sure the message comes across. Woods leans his forearms on the table in front of him, also looking seriously to the oblivious chemist.

»If you won't make a move on my daughter, I will force you. We already talked about this, you know? Either now, or never.«

Woods joins on it, speaking up while putting his most serious and threatening expression on. »Damn right. And keep in mind; Price doesn't let anoyone get this close to his daughter. You are lucky we even like you.«

Johnny gulps as he hears these men talk to him like this, feeling his own body tense as they size him up him. »Just promise me to finally grow a pair and ask her out.«

Your dad doesn't say anything more and awaits his response. Laswell and her wife can't help but crack a small smile at the whole interrogation act they pull on him, but not interrupting for now. Finally, Johnny answers with a calm tone. At least he hopes he comes off as calm.

»I will, Mister Price. I'll... I will do it soon.«

After his response, the go back to being normal like before and seem satisfied with him for now.

»You know, it took me one year to take up my courage and speak to my wife. Don't be so hard on yourself.«

Price waves her comment off dismissively, looking to Lawell now. »You're lesbian, Kate. That's different.«

The table resonates with laughter once you walk into the backyard with Nik, a simple cake in hand while your uncle carries the few cups in for some coffee and tea. You're oblivious to what they were discussing just now, seeing them all laugh and have a good time.

You set down the cake in the middle and cut it into eight pieces while Nik and Woods are pouring warm coffee and tea into the cups, handing it around the table. The sun is slowly sinking on the sky, creating a more calming atmosphere as it's getting a little chilly out. Eventually, you're sitting beside Johnny again, eating a pieece of cake while chatting with the rest.

----

House of your Dad, 8:07 PM

After some longer while it's time to say goodbye, finally cutting the chemist some slack. As your dad guides everyone out, you and Johnny are cleaning up the table in the backyard before loading the dishwasher in the kitchen together. As you're at the last few dishes, Johnny takes up his courage.

You're washing your hands by the sink as he steps closer beside you and lean against the counter while looking to you.

»I've been thinking about this for a while now, and... do you want to go out some time? Like... in the new restaurant by my place?«

As you're drying your hands, you look to him too and nod without hesitating or thinking too much about it. You two have been talking about that restaurant before, having planned to go there for a while.

»Sure, we could go there sometime. I won't mind.«

Johnny smiles, feeling his heart stutter in his chest at your words. He can't believe this is real, you agreed so easily to it.

»Really?«

He asks, trying his best to keep cool and not totally freak out from the surge of excitement he feels right now. Finally, it has been so easy all the time, and he was too afraid to actually ask you out. He could jump out of happiness.

»Yeah, we're just hanging out, right? I'm sure I'll have some time for that.«

You ask and watch him, waiting for his answer. He, on the other hand, freezes at your question. Did he really need to mess up this badly?

»Uh... sure. We'll just hang out. And stuff.« He manages to answer, gripping the counter for dear life he is leaning on. You notice the way he seems pained, but your dad walks in, checking in to see if you both need some more help. Eventually, you three guide Johnny out and watch him drive off to his own home finally.

»I would marry him if I were you.« Price pats your shoulder before he enters the house again, leaving you on your own at the porch. ...what?

a/n: this is very frustrating, but I promise you, the next part will be longer and better. Hope you ennjoyed it!

and yes, the black ops and helicopter mission reference is real

[apricote]

edith needs to get married in 7 days to get an inheritance and she really likes toni (the girl she met at the dance party)...............

[chirpsythismorning]

I’m gonna be right there beside milevens cheering if there is leaks about casting for a young male teen, presumed by fans to be Will’s love interest, but for different reasons 😅

[lovingapparition]

i’ve got a river running right into you.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn

Warnings for descriptions of medical gore.

Ghost gets hurt. Ghost is touch starved. You just want to help. It’s awkward. 

NOT COMPLETE / NO BETA

It's loud in the medical bay. The lights overhead buzz, adding their hum to the sound of clinking medical instruments, shouted calls for supplies, and the pained sounds of the injured. No set of hands are still as the wounded are wheeled in on gurneys or dragged in by their fellow soldiers. There's too much iron in the air to really adhere to the stricter medical protocols, and it's a scramble for everyone to assess and treat the damage in front of them. Each doctor's movements are efficient and practiced; stitching a wound just as a soldier would clean a gun. 

Just another day on the job.

You were hustling from one sectioned off bed to another, caught in the flow of all the action in the medical bay. The thin curtains between beds did nothing to muffle the chaos of the situation. Too many bodies were moving in and out of the area, it was almost dizzying. Your section of the unit had been chaotic for the better part of three hours, leaving you no time to stop and breathe. It seems things had gone south on the recent mission. The details of which were lost on you, but they didn’t matter now.

Stepping behind a curtain, you immediately get to work assessing the situation the soldier on the bed has found herself in, and you set about putting her back together. She's only caught minor fragments of shrapnel in her upper arms and chest. Nothing deep and nothing dangerous. It doesn't take you long to patch her up, thankfully. As you work, your brain vaguely registers that your medical team must be shifting focus to the less severely injured of the bunch.

You and the soldier both breathe a shared sigh of relief as you finish up her sutures. She only needs a few, and you tell her to return in about a week to check in before they can be removed. As you fill out her paperwork with a quick hand, you notice that the sounds of the room have hushed. You must be reaching the end of the torrent of injured soldiers.

Though small, your team was incredibly efficient; working like a machine during frenzied moments like these. Every second counted, nothing could go to waste.

You briskly step into another curtained area to see a broad, masked man on the gurney. The poor bed looked like it might strain under the weight of his bulky frame and plethora of equipment. For a moment, you can't even tell what's wrong with him. Stepping closer, the scent of fresh blood hits you just as you notice the dark wetness blooming on the upper right thigh of his gray fatigues. It looks like he’s used his own belt as a tourniquet. Your eyebrows scrunch down as you move to his side, your gloved hands automatically moving to his mask.

"Are you awake? Hey-" you're interrupted with a stiff, gloved hand gripping tightly at your wrist. Looking through the skull mask's eye sockets, you can see the whites of his half-lidded eyes starkly against his eyeblack. He's staring evenly back at you.

"I'm awake," he rumbles, low in his chest as if through water, "leave the mask." The directive is clear, even through the murk of his discomfort. You're not sure who this guy is, but from his tone he clearly expects to be obeyed. You knew there was a special operations unit active out of the base, and you can only guess that he's a part of it. Those types tended to be.. odd. This guy fit the bill.

The exchange doesn't last long though, and you immediately move down to visually assess the rest of his body as you open a new emergency medical kit. "Can you feel anywhere other than your legs that you've been injured? Have you hit your head at all?" you ask, running through regular questions since he seems to be lucid enough to give clear answers. He watches you intently, blinking slowly and almost lazily when you look at him, trauma shears in hand.

He simply shakes his head, grunting what sounds like a negative response. Great, how very helpful. You sigh as you work the shears beneath his pant leg. Without even looking up at him you slide the shears up, cutting half of his pants away to reveal the mess of both fresh and congealing blood on his thigh. Without a second thought, you cut through his briefs, pushing them aside just enough to allow him privacy as you get a better view of his injuries. The belt stays for now, it’s probably the only thing keeping him from passing out. 

It's not great. He definitely needed to be seen sooner, and you're worried about exactly how much blood he's lost. Some of these wounds are deep and still bleeding. Small bits of metal are visible through the clots. You can see bruising already beginning to form on the skin around the lacerations. The hot iron scent of his blood floods your nose, thick in the air between you.

"I need help in here- I've got shrapnel, heavy blood loss and I need extra hands!" you shout to your team without looking up, busy flushing his wounds with saline to clear any loose debris. Your hands are practiced and steady, one hand deftly wiping the blood and saline as you work. The man shifts, a strained breath escaping him. You spare him a sympathetic glance, knowing this part made many uncomfortable. Why had no one tended to him? He should've been among the first.

Evidently, so is the man in the bed. 

Before you can ask, your colleague steps in and immediately gloves up before getting to work with you. Together, you clean and stitch the man's wounds. He remains almost totally silent for all of it, save for the soft grunts as he's sewn back together. Even with the local anesthetic, it's still a bit uncomfortable. Throughout it all, he peers at you, his pale eyes flitting between your hands and your face as you work. At one point his gloved hands twitch at his side like he wants to move them. He doesn’t.

Your colleague quickly removes the man’s vest, knowing just as you do that there could be more injuries beneath it. The vest goes in a chair by the bed for later. The black shirt shirt he's wearing beneath it isn't torn or bloody, but you’re aware of your colleague’s intention to begin feeling for broken ribs as you get his IV drip ready. 

His hands catch your colleague’s wrists with a quickness you wouldn’t have thought possible given the amount of blood he’s already lost. “That’s enough,” he hisses. Your head snaps up, and you can only see the tight narrowing of his eyes through the mask. Before you can react, your colleague jerks from his grip. 

"I need to get these pants the rest of the way off, and then we're done. I'll get you cleaned up and finished for the night," you explain, falling back into your doctor mindset and practiced speech to ease the tension. He makes no response to this, so you take his silence as the go ahead. It's not like his pants were salvageable anyway.

"Are you gonna be okay in here? I have to go check on someone," your colleague asks, clearly annoyed. It wasn’t anything new to have a rude patient, but everyone’s nerves were fried after the hectic shift. You couldn’t blame them at all.

You wave them off, tired. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got him. Shouldn’t be much longer anyway.” They head off, and you turn back to the man, sighing. He’s clearly had a rough night, maybe he could use the benefit of the doubt. You were certain that you’d be a bit pissy after catching some shrapnel. 

"Do you think you can get into a clean bed without ripping those stitches?" you ask tiredly as you remove your gloves. Without looking up, you move to unlace his boot. You swear you can feel him watching your fingers loosen the laces, watching your hand wrap around his ankle as you pull the boot off. His stare holds a weight in it you've never experienced before. When you look up at him, he's ready looking away.

You offer him a fresh towel for privacy as you cut his pants and briefs the rest of the way off and gingerly slide them from beneath him. They go straight in the red trash bin specifically for biohazard waste. You gingerly clean his thigh one last time and apply a thin layer of ointment to his sutures to encourage healing before you wrap his thigh in gauze. He helpfully spreads his legs enough to allow you to securely tape the gauze in place. His skin is warm, even through your gloves.

You blink once, twice, forcing the thought away as you finish up. 

"I can." is all you get out of him. You sigh, it's been a long day. His boots join his vest in the chair, and you roll a clean cot into his room. This one has a thin cotton sheet and a blanket on it. You could almost swear his head is cocked, ever so slightly, with a question, and you answer it without thinking. "You're sleeping here tonight. You've lost a lot of blood and you'll need IV fluids to recover. It's not much, but it's better than that gurney."

He huffs, you can only guess he’s annoyed, but he looks the bed over. The cushioned pad was minimal at best. He would definitely feel it in the morning in addition to whatever pain arose from his stitches. “Look, I’m going to override whatever authority you think you have here. It’s safest for us to be able to watch you, just for tonight.” It’s your turn to leave him without room to argue.

For a long moment, he looks at you indignantly, like he’s not covering himself with a thin towel and your sutures aren't in his thigh. Then the tension slowly eases out of his shoulders, and he nods once.

You don't look away as he slides his legs around to the edge of the gurney, one massive hand still covering himself with the towel for decency. It's nothing you haven't seen before, and you're more concerned with whether or not he's okay to stand without support. You step closer, clearing your throat to cut the silence.

You roll an IV pole to the side of his cot and hand the fluids you’d prepared earlier on it. “Okay, last thing and then I’ll fuck off for the night, I swear,” you tell him dryly. He huffs, a short sound that’s close to a laugh, you think. 

"I'm here, if you need a hand," you tell him, more confidently than you feel. Seeing him standing now you realize he's nearly a full head taller and twice as broad as you. Your hand finds his elbow, and to your surprise he doesn't tell you to back off as you help him ease into the bed.

A low, cut off groan escapes him as he sits tentatively on the edge of the bed. When he eases back to lay down, his shirt rides up just enough to hint at the bloom of a purple bruise draped over his side. His eyes are pinched shut as he slowly settles into bed.

He doesn’t get the chance to try to help himself get comfortable. “Here, just let me. I’ve got it.” You tell him quietly, batting his hands away from the sheets. You gingerly help him maneuver his legs into a comfortable position and tuck the blankets loosely around him. Another stolen glance at him tells you he’s still got that dreamy half lidded look. It’s enough for you to not exactly trust him with getting settled in bed on his own.

“I’m going to give you an IV to replace the fluids you lost and some light pain medication. Then we’re all done,” You tell him as you add more of those shitty military issue pillows to the bed. It’s the least you can do to make him comfortable. The local anesthetic won’t last him the entire night, and you’re certain the rest of his body must be sore from the aftermath of the mission. 

Placing his IV goes without fuss. He's slumped back against the pillows, breathing evenly as you fill out his paperwork for his overnight check in. You'd managed to fill out most of it, but you still didn't know his name or what unit he belonged to. "Hey, what's your name and unit? I need to fill this sheet out for my records,” you ask, not even looking up.

"Ghost. One four one," each rumbling word has you bristling, your face paling. Oh hell. 

"..Thank you sir." Your throat feels like it’s closing up. You don’t even bother asking for his actual name. You’d heard about a Ghost on the base, but you’d never seen him; never thought you would. It was all just rumors, something to shoot the shit about over dinner in the cafeteria. 

You wanted to sink into the floor. How could you have missed the literal skull mask? The hectic rush of the day coupled with your exhaustion must have completely cleared your brain out of any irrelevant gossip, and now it was biting you in the ass. For the last half hour you’d been practically ogling him and talking to him like he was any other soldier on the base. 

The rest of the shift moves by in a blur, it’s mostly paperwork and cleanup since everyone has been seen too. You luckily are not chosen to pass food out, so you’re saved the further embarrassment of having to interact with Ghost even more. With any luck tomorrow morning would be the last you two ever speak, and he could go back to being invisible to you, and you’d be saved from dying of embarrassment.

A low chuckle rolls from his chest, and your head sharply snaps up. You fight the urge to apologize and dig your hole deeper. You can feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you realize he’s laughing at you. You had heard rumors about his particularly efficient methods of combat and data extraction from captured enemies; some of the things you’d heard made your spine chill.

You can only smile nervously back at him and tiredly drag your hand over your eyes. You can only cling to the last vestiges of professionalism that you have left. “You’re all set here. Once things calm down someone will be by with some food for you, if you feel like eating,” you tell him, your mouth dry. He hums softly in response, and you figure the pain medication has started to take effect. “I’ll be back in the morning to check in, have a good night, sir.” 

[cosmicpoutine]

stephanie definitely writes timbern fanfic

[blujaydoodles]

tbh this post would probably have suited a lot of my little nerds but it made me think of felix first

[red-flagging]

💛 seb/lewis :-)

(kiss fic prompts!)

a little epilogue to rabbits are chasing :)

Lewis's flight lands at 8:02PM, which means that by 7:31PM, Seb is parked outside the airport arrivals door, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and scanning the sky for approaching planes.

It's quite silly, getting here so early, but it's not as if there's much left to do at home. There's roast vegetables waiting in the oven, the cauliflower steaks that he started marinating earlier this morning chilling in the fridge. Mina and Ellie are safely ensconced in their duck coop with the heater turned on for the night. The sheets on the guest bed are freshly washed.

The car parked behind him starts up. Its headlights illuminate Seb's cabin. For a moment, he catches a glimpse of himself, harried and too-bright, in the rearview mirror. He scrubs his hands down his face. Christ. Get it together, Sebastian. He is a full 39 years old. Far too old to be getting the same jitters that he did the first time he invited a girl over at age 17, agonizing about what album to have playing when they came back to his room. Lewis is far too old for Seb to be doing all this. Lewis might not even be gay.

His phone buzzes. Seb nearly jumps out of his seat.

Lewis

just landed

getting my luggage now

hows it so freaking cold here

The inside of the car is already fogging up. When he'd asked Lewis to send dates he could come visit and Lewis had said just so you know the next few months are kind of crazy for me, Seb had expected late fall, maybe the holidays. Not the middle of slush season, when all the roads up the mountain have a 50/50 chance of being so muddy that they're undriveable.

Sebastian

I'm outside, in the blue Infiniti :)

He glances back up at himself in the mirror. The scab from where a wood chip caught the corner of his eyebrow while he was sanding the new planter box is almost healed over. His hair looks as good as it's ever going to. If Lewis asks whether he's been using conditioner, he's fucked.

It shouldn't feel like this. Seb beat Lewis to Senna's record, and Lewis still laughed at all his jokes the next season. Lewis watched Seb DNF twice in five races and still said in the media pen that he was waiting for the day Seb would be back up on the podium with him. When they inevitably auction off Lewis's Le Mans racesuit, it'll have to be with Seb's snot all over the front of it, because Lewis let Seb sob all over him and then laughed as he wiped sweat off of Seb's cheek with the sleeve. After all that – the fact that he's about to be in Seb's house for the next week shouldn't make Seb feel like he's standing in front of Lewis naked, without even the promise of a fast car or a good competition to distract Lewis from looking right at him.

His phone buzzes again.

Lewis

outside i think

Seb peers through the windscreen. Lewis – or rather, the blurry figure lugging a giant suitcase behind him that he assumes is Lewis – waves at him from the sidewalk. Seb flashes his lights at him twice.

The back door opens and Lewis's head, along with a burst of cold night air, pops in. "Hey," he says, a little breathlessly. "I don't think this is going to fit in the back."

It does, eventually, but not without a fight that involves Seb having to climb into the trunk alongside Lewis's suitcase and physically wrestle it into place while Lewis shoves from behind. They're both out of breath by the time they finally climb back in the front and slam the doors shut.

"You know, there are beds at the farm," Seb points out. "You didn't have to pack your own."

Lewis shakes his head, tugging off his gloves. His coat collar is turned up around his neck. He's wearing an an ear warmer headband, held in place by two butterfly pins. Every other bit of uncovered skin is pink, even with the heat in the car up at full blast. Lewis shoves his fingers in front of the vents and sighs with relief, closing his eyes. "Ugh, thank God," he says. He sounds exhausted. "Listen, you're lucky I fit everything into one." It sounds far less like a joke than Seb would hope. The fact that the fondness in Seb's chest still manages to outweigh the exasperation is probably a sign that Seb's beyond salvation.

"Next time I'll bring a trailer so you can fit your bathtub and toilet, too," he says, reaching for the keys. The engine purrs to life as he flicks the lights back on, then leans forward to scrub the worst of the fog off the windscreen. The thermometer on the dash says it's still 3 degrees outside. They might still be able to make it back before the slush freezes over. "Okay," he says, sitting back down and twisting around to reach for his seatbelt. "Ready to go?"

Lewis doesn't say anything. When Seb looks over, he's staring out the front window, playing with one of his rings.

"Lewis?" Seb asks.

Lewis's head jerks around. "Hm?" he says. "Oh. Yeah." He doesn't move to put on his seatbelt.

Seb frowns. Kills the engine so he can properly turn in his seat. "Lewis," he says. "Is everything –"

Lewis leans across the console and kisses him.

It's barely half a second. Seb still hasn't moved by the time Lewis sits back down on his side of the car.

"Uh," Lewis says, after a second. He clears his throat. "Sorry. I just – Shit. Sorry. The whole way over, all I could think about was – I had to get it over with before I chickened out."

He's fiddling with his rings again, but his eyes stay fixed on Seb's. His jaw is set. He still looks half-ready to bolt through the door behind him, out into the night.

"Well, you don't have to make it sound like taking your medicine, Christ," Seb says hoarsely, and drags Lewis back across the console to kiss him properly.

Lewis's lips are still cold. When Seb opens his mouth, Lewis sighs, pressing in closer with a soft sound that makes Seb want to go twenty years back in time and kick himself for not figuring out how to make Lewis make that noise sooner. His hands settle on Seb's wrists, holding him in place. Seb slides his own hands up, cradling the back of Lewis's head, to return the favor.

When he finally pulls away just far enough to catch his breath, Lewis follows him, close enough that their noses bump. His eyes are wide. This close up, Seb can see the dark circles under them more clearly.

He closes his eyes. Lewis is still there when he opens them.

"How long have you been awake?" he asks.

Lewis blinks. "What," he says. "Are you talking about."

"Sleep deprivation," Seb says. His heart is pounding hard enough that he feels it in his throat. "People start to get delirious when they're tired enough –"

"I was awake for 24 hours and I didn't kiss you at the end," Lewis interrupts, his eyes sharp and bright. "I'm not making the same mistake twice."

Seb opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He tries again. Still nothing.

"Fuck," he says, closing his eyes. "Okay. Okay." He drags himself back upright and reaches for the keys. "We can – tomorrow. But we should – you need to shower. And sleep." Lewis's hand settles on his leg. Seb rests his own on top of it; after a second, he squeezes Lewis's fingers gently. Lewis flips his hand over and laces their fingers together.

"Yeah," Lewis says. His thumb traces over Seb's knuckles. "That – tomorrow sounds good."

The slush crackles under the tires when Seb starts to move. Ahead of them, the headlights carve a path through the darkness. Lewis's hand is a solid, steady weight against his leg. "Okay," Seb says, to himself, to both of them, to no one. Lewis hums softly from his side of the car. He squeezes Seb's knee gently.

Seb closes his eyes for a second. "Okay," he says quietly. "Yeah. Let's go home."