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pollyna · 2 years

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Tom's cancer goes:

His breath is short and his throat hurts like he forgot do drink for days. His hands feel clammy and it's only when Ron's arm catch him that he realises he's falling. Every single person in the room is looking at him with the expression of who just saw a titan falling from the sky. But his feet are steady, more or less, on the ground. His best friend doesn't let him go until he's sure Tom isn't going to collapse again. He blames it all on exhaustion.

(It's not a total lie because when his parter isn't around he tends to work two to three times more than usual. Most of the time Charles, the Vice Admiral who has office a coupe of doors from his, finds him still working in the middle of the night and already working when he comes in at eight. All his concernes go blind on him.)

The house is silent when he comes back from the visit and Ron is still walking just a couple of steps behind him. Ron who's hands were big and warm while the doctor dictated his sentence and Tom was hoping, the whole time, for smaller hands in his. Pete is far away and he's going to be until the end of the year. By the time he's back Tom is probably going to be dead.

I have to- he starts but Ron is already taking away is computer and cellphone. Not tonight Tom, not tonight.

They don't talk a word until he falls asleep on the couch, Ron's arm around his shoulder and half of the dinner still on the coffee table.

Writing to Bradley leaves him without energy for two entire days but it's the first round of chemio that does that, not the long and verbose mail he composes. He starts the white pages for forty minutes and writes seven different drafts. Dear Bradley, Kiddo listen, Lieuten-, Fuckin' christ, Baby Goose I really need y-, I'm dying, It's for Mav and the 8th is the good one because he writes as Admiral Kazansky and not as Uncle Tom. He writes to Bradley's superior and order him to give the boy, a man this days, five days of leave and that he has to report back in DC as soon as he's back in the States. Then he calls a person who will call another person and Bradley is going to arrive in Miramar.

He spends hours learning ASL. The doctor says his voice could be forever damaged. He spends a little more time learning ASL.

It takes almost three months for Bradley to be there because, as the superior officer writes back, right in that moment only some sort of deity would allow the Lieutenant to leave his mission and, contrary of popular belief, you Admiral Kazansky are still not a god. With all the respect, sir. By the time he's at the door step Tom's day is a full cycle of meds to take at what hour and how much morphine he's allowed the think about to take before that dosage got cut in half and then in half again. Bradley says Admiral Kazansky, sir with the whole salute and Tom can barley lift his arm to do the same.

It's not an easy argument to have. Ron makes them tea, kisses Bradley's forehead and he's out of the house for hours. At some point, while Tom is trying to explain papers and his will Bradley leaves the house too. He doesn't scream this time, he's not eighteen anymore, and the silence that follows is more defining than all the words he said the first time. He falls asleep on his armchair and wakes up for dinner, a table ready for three and only two person eating at it. He will come back Ron says. Tom would like to believe him.

10.

Somedays he's better than ever and registers long messages to Pete. Things he's going to listen when Tom is dead and he knows his husband would appreciate. He says I love you as much as he can and reads books and passages of their favourite poems. Once, seven months in to therapy, Tom records an entire hour of Pete's favourite pieces at the piano and sings along for what he can. Bradley is around and lately is always seem on the point of running away, for the third and last time. Tom is greatful he's still here. Ron calls him a romantic at heart and Tom gives him the finger. It's nice, they're laughing, and it almost doesn't feel like the last of his good days.

Tom's remission goes:

10.

He's still half asleep and there's a smaller hands in his, the weight of something, a head?, near is shoulder and his nose is full of the generic shit his husband likes to call his favourite shampoo and that make him cry more than the absence of his voice and the ugly scar that will forever sign his skin. He's alive and Pete is too.

Pete spends a lot of time kissing him, on his lips, on his cheeks and everywhere he can reach without moving away from him. Getting back home from the hospital isn't as smooth as he tought he would be and the road to heal is far from done. Bradley is still there, Ron is still there and Pete wants to say something, probably scream at him, but sometimes he can barley talk at all.

He screams at Ron tho. He picks stupid fights, tries to make Ron angry and goes out on long walks and he almost end up in jail, more than once. Tom pulls some strings and let him fly, because flying is the only way Pete knows how to deal with emotions. He spends hours out there and he's mourning and giving all over again but this time no one is dead, not yet.

Speech therapy is a mountain Tom doesn't feel like he's never going to finish climbing in. But it helps more than he could ever think. And gives Pete the out to scream at him now, even if all he can do is answer with his fingers. It's ugly, how could it not be when he spent a year dying without having the possibility to tell it to his husband?, and it ends in tears from both sides but is a starting point. Another one.

Pete takes on experimental programs that let him be at home at 5 and give him, them, free weekends. He learns ASL and he learns how to talk with Bradley again. Ron goes back on his boat, I missed this old gal he writes him in the first postcard he received, but everytime he has leave is sleeping in their spare room or on the couch.

Bradley starts calling them Uncles again and then dad and pops. If Tom still had tears he would have cried over his icecream. He hugs him as strong as he can against his chest. He isn't as strong has he used to be but he's starting getting back a little muscle, he hopes the hug is warm as the warmth he feels inside.

He says his second first word looking straight in his husband, now legally so, and says Pete and then I love you.

Polished version: here.

#pain and numbers have a strange correlation in my mind they almost walk hand by hand #tom iceman kazansky #ron slider kerner #pete maverick mitchell #icemav #bradley rooster bradshaw #he gets sick and mav is on a year long super secret mission so ron sticks around a little more #iceman & slider friendship #bradley gets back and tries to stay (it's not easy. tom doesn't really blame him)#technically mav&ice aren't married but they call each other husbands #pre top gun: maverick #angst #terminal illness (almost)#anger #maverick's copy mechanism isn't always the best #otp: i heard from the heavens that clouds have been grey

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muu-kun · 1 year

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muu, why did you turn out this way.

#and by that I mean muus really unhealthy habit of finding the person who dislikes him the most in a social group #or he finds to be the one who holds him at the greatest distance #and makes them his social project to prove to them that time with him can be as valuable as it is with anyone else #this has been an ongoing thing since he was sixteen so really I have to wonder tho like what fragment of his character #is the one most responsible for that level of behavior #the only thing I do know is that it IS a mother wound hence why those same men he will plead to get good attention from are #strangely categorized in his mind at time as mother or sought motherly connection from as I have Examples #and I should also say that muu has only successfully established a close friendship with 1 one of these chosen few #and that was royce because he refused to accept the narrative that the only thing that man was ever going to was hit him lmao and he won #but everyone else was very much so a loss so really his numbers are like 1 in whatever at this point #which is really why at this point in time I have to kind of nudge to people that if he appears obsessive about your character #or abnormally needy in a way yet moody in an almost less than age appropriate manner than one would expect from a 26 year old #it is because is That person that makes him feel bad about himself and he won't Just Tell them That

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fiadorable · 9 months

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For the three-word-sentence prompt, please — Pikeuna: "Sing to me."

Done! And of course it ran away with me so it's on ao3 🙈

#star trek strange new worlds #pike & una friendship #number one crushing on pike but she's being so brave about it #snw fic #pre snw fic #fiadorable writes #prompt: curator

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the-offside-rule · 6 months

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Max Verstappen (Red Bull Racing) - Explain

Requested: yes

Prompt: 18) "My mum thinks we're dating."

Warnings: Max being dumb asf

Y/n and Victoria had been friends for as long as they could remember. They would visit eachothers houses, carpool to school, go shopping on the weekends; you name it, they did it and they did it together. Now both girls had a set of rules for eachother and Victoria's number one rule was not a surprise at all; her brother was off limits. Y/n didn't have a problem with it because well, Max was older and they rarely talked. Even as children she didn't like him that way, mainly because as a child she thought he looked like a strange lizard of some sort. When Max became a Formula One driver, Y/n found herself with Victoria less and less due to her still having to stay in school, whilst Victoria travelled the world with her brother for a good part of the academic year. But it didn't tarnish their friendship in any way.

In fact, once Y/n graduated from high-school, Victoria managed to get her to a few races that the whole Verstappen family attended. She grew closer with the family as a whole and even became one of the regulars in the paddock after a while. However, Y/n went on to study in Italy and her paddock appearances were significantly lowered to once or twice a year.

The weekend of Monza 2023 was a special one to say the least. Y/n smiled as she walked into the paddock with Victoria, like she did every other time. The cameras took photos, like they did every other year and they walked straight to the hospitality. "I missed this place." Y/n sighed as she looked around the hospitality, holding her godson Luka's hand as he waddled about the place. "I know. They've changed a few things since you've been here last." Victoria smiled as she wheeled the stroller through the paddock. "And where is the golden boy himself?" Y/n asked, obviously referring to Victoria's now two-time world champion brother. "He's with Mama. They're having their weekly lunch like they usually do." Y/n nodded. "I can't wait to chill in the hospitality. I'd argue it'd my favourite place."

Just as she said she would, Y/n sat in the hospitality of Red Bull. She got her usual place; a table by the window that overlooked the whole paddock, and close enough to Ferrari so she could get a glimpse of Charles Leclerc walking by. All heads snapped around as the heard large footsteps pounding up the stairs and there appeared a delirious looking Max Verstappen. They locked eyes and Max began walking over to her quite quickly. Did he really miss her that much?

"Hi, Max. How are you-" Max sits down rapidly, making Y/n freeze and look at the dutchman as if he had two heads. "I have a problem. Well, no. We- we have a problem." Max said, stumbling on his words. "You look like you've just seen a ghost." Y/n chuckled as she continued to scroll through her phone. "I- I think I really messed up." Max muttered. Y/n scoffed in reply. "Can't be worse than the time you-" She paused and looked at the familiar face of Max's I fucked up face. "What did you do?" She asked, not putting the phone down. "I- You're going to hate me." Max said. "What have you done?" She asked again. "My mum thinks we're dating." Max blurted out, leaving both of them in stunned silence. "She what?!" She put her phone down and stood up. "I know! It was really dumb!" Max repeated over and over again. "Max! Why did you tell her that!"

"It was an accident!" Max replied defensively. "What exactly did you say?!" Y/n asked. "Well she said we would make a cute couple and I kind of joked that well, what if we were but nobody knew. And then she started smiling like that and asking questions so I just went with it so now-" He paused. "Now she thinks we're together." Max mumbled the last bit. "Max, you need to tell her we aren't!" Y/n said. "But why? She seems so happy-"

"Max! Victoria might actually murder me! I have known her since we were seven!" Y/n whisper shouted. "It'll be fine! She won't know, I am sure of it-"

"Y/n?" Y/n froze as she heard her loving friend Victoria call out her name. Max and Y/n turned to see Victoria walking towards them, almost in the same fashion that Max walked over just a matter of minutes ago. "Victoria, I can explain!"

"Oh I'm so happy for you both! It makes so much sense now! Why you were looking for him this morning, I mean." Vuctoria squealed, engulfing Y/n in a hug. Max stood up chuckling along. "You- you're not mad?" Y/n asked, audibly confused. "Mad? Of course not! Me and Mama have said it many times; that the two of you should be dating. It's about time, to be honest." Y/n smiled and looked between the two Verstappens. "And you! Oh thank goodness you found a nice girlfriend after that last one, she was horrible." Max nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Even Dad is happy about you two!" Max and Y/n didn't know what to say. "And you all want us to...date?"

"Yes! For the longest time. It was so obvious you liked eachother too. So, so obvious." Max looked down at Y/n. The pair's faces turned as red as the Ferrari garage next door. "Well, I'll let you two lovebirds have some alone time. Ill see you both later?" Victoria asked, getting ready to leave. "Yes. Definitely."

"That didn't go how I thought it would." Y/n muttered. "Are we missing something? Do we like eachother but we're just too stupid to tell?" Max asked. "I- I don't know." She whispered. "But, I think we should tell them we aren't together before this gets out of hand." Y/n went to walk, but felt her hand being grabbed. She looked back to see Max. "Or we just play along until it dies down." Max suggested. "That is possibly the most stupid thing you've ever said." Y/n retorted. "Bot really. We both get benefits out of dating. You get recognition for being my girlfriend which comes with brand deals, magazine shoots-"

"I would never date you just for the benefits. I date someone because I love them."

"So so you love me?" Y/n didn't really know how to respond to that. Her mouth opened and closed, searching for the words but she couldn't couldn't a singular sentence. Max's grin widened. "Don't even! I'll see you around." Y/n said storming off, her face red from embarrassment. "Okay. Bye my love!" Max teased. "Shut up!" Did she like him? Did she love him? No! Of course...well....maybe.

#f1 blurb #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen

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kumawaii · 4 months

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SHE’S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU | VNC

cw - manipulation, toxic behaviors, possessiveness, masturbation (m), voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming

— for the anon who requested it!

∘₊✧─── 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽 ───✧₊∘

bestie!vernon is always chill. you’ve seen him lose his composure a total of five times, but even then you can’t really say he lost lost it. it’s one of the reasons he’s become your safe space. and because that’s what he means to you, you always put him first.

it’s the same for him. bestie!vernon never hesitates to let you — and everyone else — know that you’re his top priority. he loves the feeling that comes along with being your number one. not only because he knows he can never do any wrong in your eyes, but because he can see the amount of affection you have for him every time he looks at you.

this all is horribly derailed when you mention that you’re going to start dating again. you’re excited when you tell him about the guy who happens to be a friend of one of his friends. bestie!vernon feels a bile rising up his throat when you go on and on about how he’s a sweet guy who gives you butterflies. it’s hard for him to put on a smile and act like he’s happy for you.

on the night of your date, you get a message from bestie!vernon asking if you can drop off the book he let you borrow. in spite of him never asking for anything back in the course of your entire friendship (he always let you use his things until you were done without any pressure), you don’t think it’s strange. so an hour before you’re meant to meet your date, you stop by his apartment.

you let yourself in with your spare key after he doesn’t answer your call. the apartment is quiet as you head for bestie!vernon’s room. his door is cracked open and you can vaguely make out his body laying on his bed.

just as you’re about to call out to him, you hear the prettiest moan ever. like a deer caught in headlights you stop just outside the door. now you have a clear view of bestie!vernon jerking off on his bed. your pussy gets wet instantly at the sight of his big, pretty cock. his eyes are screwed shut as he slowly fucks his hand.

it’s disgusting how long you stand there and watch. everything about what you’re doing is wrong, but you can’t look away. bestie!vernon is just so hot, and he sounds so cute as he pleasures himself. you can feel your panties start to stick to your cunt the longer you watch him. eventually, you decide that you have to leave because what you’re doing is sick.

you stop mid-step when you hear your name. it doesn’t sound like an i caught you call, but a fucking moan. bestie!vernon keeps whimpering and moaning your name, bucking his naked hips into his hand. you can’t believe it, and the turn of events has you so out of your mind that you act without thinking.

“vernon.”

your best friend lets out a surprised yelp when he hears your voice. his eyes get wide as he sits up and scrambles to cover himself. you’re incredibly turned on as bestie!vernon turns red, unable to meet your eyes. it’s silent for a moment. the air is thick and heavy with tension that feels like it might snap at any moment.

“i thought you were stopping by later.” bestie!vernon sounds so embarrassed, but you think it’s the cutest thing ever.

“your text said six.” you say, not taking your eyes off his poorly covered cock which is still oozing with precum.

“i-i swore i typed seven—” vernon stutters, finally looking at you.

something inside you snaps when you meet his embarrassed yet needy gaze. bestie!vernon lets out a deep groan when you pounce on him, lips messily colliding with his. you snatch his hands away from his crotch as you two fall back on his bed and bring them up to cup your tits. he moans into your mouth, gently squeezing as his tongue plays with yours.

when bestie!vernon is easing his cock into your dripping cunt, you’re already delirious. he starts fucking you with a rough precision you didn’t expect from him. he slaps your ass as it bounces back on his cock, already obsessed with the hot sight. his leaking tip is curving deliciously against your walls, leaving you a moaning mess.

“fuck. you have the prettiest ass ever.” vernon grunts as he kneads the two globes. he grips them tightly and starts to drag you back and forth on his cock until you’re screaming out his name.

you’re dripping all over his sheets, but you can’t feel embarrassed because he’s fucking you so good. no one’s ever gone as deep as him, and all you can do is moan like a pornstar. vernon doesn’t mind at all, though. in fact, he loves it.

“should’ve fucked you sooner, babe.” bestie!vernon says as he keeps slamming his cock into your tight little hole. “can’t believe i almost let him have you.”

you’re so close to cumming that you’ve completely forgotten about your date. somewhere in your hazy mind, you know you have to let him know you’re no longer coming. luckily, bestie!vernon knows you better than you do. he has your phone in his hands and is typing in your password before you can realize what he’s doing. for a fleeting second, he contemplates on sending a video showing exactly why you were going to miss the date, but the thinks better of it.

the squeal you let out when you see he’s called your date after he tosses your phone by your head is so cute and makes bestie!vernon fuck you harder. “tell him you’re not coming.”

your best friend’s voice is so dominant and rough that you gush all over his cock. he moans out your name as your cream completely coats his dick. your pussy is so sloppy that you can hear it all throughout the room, and when your would-be date picks up the phone, you wonder if he can hear it too.

“hey, i’m about to leave—”

“i can’t come.” you say, voice trembling as feel yourself on the brink of an orgasm.

“what? is everything okay?” he sounds so concerned, but all you care about is how vernon’s thick cock is splitting you open.

“y-yeah!” you cry out when bestie!vernon turns you until your laying on your side and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder. “just can’t make it.”

there’s no way he doesn’t hear vernon’s moans and the wet sound of skin slapping, but you don’t care. all you want is to get filled up. so you abruptly hang up and start to meet the harsh thrusts making you see stars.

“fuck, vernon!” you toss your head back when he finds your sweet spot, abruptly cumming all over his dick. “cum inside me!”

that’s exactly what bestie!vernon does, stuffing you to the brim. he slowly fucks it back into you for a minute before collapsing next to you. he keeps his cock inside you as he pulls you against his body with a satisfied hum. you cuddle into him, sleepily telling him you want to fuck again when you wake up. he smirks when you hook a leg over his hip — a clear indication that you want him to stay inside you.

and he does. it’s what he deserves after all that he did to get to this place. bestie!vernon plans fell into place after telling you the wrong time on purpose and masturbating when he knew you were watching. the cherry on top was his performance of a lifetime; acting embarrassed when he was really turned on beyond belief. it was all worth it because now he’s the one with his cock and cum inside you.

#kumawaii.exe #vernon smut #vernon chwe smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #vernon x reader #svt x reader #vernon chwe fic #vernon chwe x reader #svt fic #seventeen fic #vernon imagine #vernon chwe imagine #svt imagine

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sixosix · 1 year

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just say it | nagi seishiro

angst to fluff, confessions!!, friends to lovers, time skip, 2k words

you’re not sure, exactly, but seeing nagi seishiro sprawled like a cat on your couch, looking all too much like your home is his, leaves almost a strange feeling in your stomach. it festers, ugly and clinging.

and stupid nagi continues to lay there, oblivious to how your fingers clench to block out the beat of your heart.

“oi,” you throw a towel on his head, grimacing at the sight of sweat clinging to the back of his neck and sticking onto your headrest. “what are you doing in my house?” and did he travel by foot all the way here? under the scorching sun?

nagi cranes his neck, all slow and lazy, eyes wide. “oh,” he says. “you left your notebook,” he points at the table, without looking at it, “on my desk.”

“well, thanks, i guess.” you push his long legs away from the side of the couch and fall back onto it, sighing deeply. “you could’ve just given it to me tomorrow.”

he seems to pause for a second, thumbs hovering awkwardly on his phone screen. when you face him with a questioning look, he returns as if nothing happened. “reo said i could visit you.”

you hate it. you always hate when nagi does this.

when for a split second, he hesitates, shuffles a bit too close, his fingers tremble to reach for you, or his eyes flicker to your lips, but he never does anything about it.

he pulls away at the last second, and time seems to flow back normally in a snap. as if he wasn’t just about to ruin the friendship you’ve been picking scabs on just to get him to peel it off and make a move already.

and knowing nagi, he never does. he never does. (and he never will.)

“reo, huh,” you murmur, giving him a doubtful look. nagi doesn’t react visibly, but you can tell he’s starting to get uncomfortable under your scrutiny, burying his chin into the towel.

when you stretch your legs over his lap, he lets you. he doesn’t question it, doesn’t react, just keeps playing on his phone, and it’s almost infuriating how little you have an effect on him.

and knowing you, you’ll keep letting him drag this out. because underneath that frustration is fear, vulnerable and thin, ready to crumble faster than butterfly wings with the wrong move.

if you confess, and he pulls away, it can still be back to normal. that’s what everyone says, and those people don’t talk to their forgotten ones anymore. they wouldn’t understand.

but it will never be the same with nagi, because you know that you love him and will keep loving him. it will not be okay if he doesn’t feel the same, no matter how hard you try to fool yourself. it will hurt and claw out your heart, chew, and spit it out like it wasn’t someone’s soul.

it will hurt to know that you would peel yourself open and offer your heart to him, and he wouldn’t even accept it because he’ll say he doesn’t love you back. he shouldn’t deserve your dedication. it will hurt even more to know that nagi will bleed out for someone else someday, despite the longing glances and lingering touches he keeps giving your way.

“you know, you should be asking me permission, not literally anyone else who doesn’t live here.”

nagi hums, and the round finishes with a final slash of his weapon. the boss crumbles, and you kind of feel for it. he spares you a glance. “you don’t mind.”

you don’t.

even if you don’t say it out loud, the ghost of a smile on nagi’s lips says he knows.

it should be enough that you could be under the same sky as him. someone like nagi. but you are selfish and obsessed, keening like a tamed lion when his attention is focused your way.

with an almost personal jab on the number button of the vending machine, you watch the juice box tumble out.

you bend down to pluck it out but almost drop it back down again when you feel a warm body press against your back as you stand straight.

with a chin propped up on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist, and a phone right in front of you, you nearly choke on your spit realizing who it is.

“fuck’s sake, nagi,” you breathe, pressing a hand on your chest as if that would somehow strangle it to quiet down.

when nagi huffs an amused laugh, your traitorous heart goes wilder.

“let me free so i can also buy you your lemon tea,” you grumble, wriggling in his grasp.

nagi continues fiddling with his phone, skillfully defeating virtual enemies. “no,” he says after a while. “you’re warm.”

“i’ll strangle you.”

nagi hums in acknowledgment.

with a defeated sigh, you press the number of nagi’s favorite drink, packed in a bright yellow box. hoping to piss him off, you abruptly squat down to grab the lemon tea, but nagi follows, unbothered.

he follows after you, and again when you rise back up. and he’s still unbothered.

“you are so annoying,” you grumble, tucking your juice box under your arm to unwrap nagi’s. you poke the straw in, scowling.

you twist in his grasp to face him, holding the straw up to his mouth. “here. you haven’t drunk anything recently.”

but nagi’s face is too surprised, his eyes flicking down to where your hand is on his chest, then to where his arms are still snug around you. if you still had any hope left in you, you’d say there’s a flush in his cheeks.

it makes you realize how this position must look to other people, pressed against each other like this.

“thanks,” nagi murmurs, sipping happily on the straw. the moment shatters once again, and he doesn’t fucking do anything about it. even later and tomorrow, and the day after that, you two won’t talk about it.

from behind you, his character makes a grunt of pain, and you notice nagi isn’t looking at his phone, but somewhere on your face.

down, his phone says.

down, indeed.

when nagi and reo have to leave for this thing called blue lock, you say to yourself that you’re relieved.

you’ll miss reo a lot. he is one of your best friends, and you’re proud to watch him grow and become the person he wants to be. at least he doesn’t drive you fucking crazy.

nagi is an entirely different story.

the goodbye wasn’t anything remotely close to heartfelt. it felt like they weren’t even leaving, just taking a trip to the bathroom, but they had to make everything dramatic for no reason. and you’re fine with that. it will soften the blow.

but stupid nagi doesn’t allow just a gentle wound when he leaves.

[reo 6:43] don’t miss us too much y/n or else i might have to come running out :(

[y/n 6:50] don’t baby me and go play soccer, loser

[y/n 6:50] you better text me as soon as you can and tell me everything

[reo 6:52] i will i will

[reo 6:52] (sends an attachment of him and nagi on bus seats. reo has an arm thrown over nagi’s shoulder with his tongue stuck out, while nagi is frowning at the window.

[y/n 6:53] dumbasses. i love you.

[reo 6:53] we love you too

[nagi 7:35] i miss you.

you bury your phone face-first on your bed, as if that’ll spit out nagi’s message and let you cut it in pieces and throw it out of existence. you hate it. you hate it.

what was it about distance making the heart grow fonder?

fuck.

you bite your pillow and steer your mind clear of anything else.

nagi will probably forget about you after this whole blue lock thing anyway. it’s better to get used to being on your own now.

“a match?”

“yes,” reo’s voice says over the phone. there’s a cheer of teen boys echoing, and reo apologizes, saying he’ll leave the locker room. “you’ve seen the news, right?”

no, you haven’t. “that’s… cool!” you don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. “with who?”

“come watch us play, idiot,” reo chuckles; he knows you’ll say yes sooner or later, and you hate that you know he’s right. “didn’t you miss us?”

it’s only today that you and reo started talking again. he says he’s been busy, and you tell him it’s fine because so were you. but meeting him again tomorrow when it’s been so long since you’ve even spoken? you’re not sure if that’s fine.

“i… don’t know.” you glance at the date displayed on your screen, considering. “tomorrow, was it?”

you really have been busy. you’re not sure if you can take it if the stress of life adds up to the stress upon seeing nagi’s stupidly handsome face.

“yup. you should see nagi, man; he’s been really awesome lately.”

just the mention is enough to seize your heart and sway you. you scowl, and judging by the smile you can hear from reo, he did it on purpose.

“i’ll see if i’m free, i suppose,” you sigh, falling on your mattress to frown at the ceiling. “how have you been, reo?”

when reo launches into a ramble about all the events that went down, you let him. you smile and freely admit that you did miss them more than you can bring yourself to admit. it’s a bandage for a bullet wound.

“fuck.”

you weave through the crowd and halls with as much speed as possible. your ankles ache and protest with each step, but you ignore it. your heart beats and echoes in your ears, berating you for this stupid decision, but you ignore it.

the crowd erupts into deafening cheers, and you wince, scrambling to pick up your pace. the speakers from the corners of the wall announce the winners, and they scream and howl again.

“fuck, fuck.”

you’re late.

the worst part is, you can’t make them treat you to dinner for the stress this is giving you because they’re the ones who won.

when you finally reach the door, there’s already a string of people leaving, talking among themselves animatedly. you hear names, straining your ear when someone mentions reo, nagi, nagi, nagi.

the stadium is slowly filling out, and guilt eats you right up for missing even the winning shot. but you were too busy being indecisive not to be late when ( eventually ) leaving the house.

it’s fine. if nagi won’t care about you, then at least reo is there. he invited you, and you won’t lie that you also came to watch your best friend. ( you ignore the bitterness in your chest. )

“y/n!”

you perk up at the sound of reo’s voice, unable to fight the smile off your face when he comes running straight your way.

“come down here!” he calls out, grinning wide. there’s something different about it, though you’re not sure what it is exactly. was it the confidence he’s exuding? the sureness of himself?

you make your way to where he can reach you and gasp when his sweaty ass comes to hug you.

“gross, gross,” you hiss, trying to slap his arms away. “don’t slobber all over me.”

reo laughs, “you’re also all sweaty. did you just arrive?”

you grimace. “sorry. i was being an idiot overthinking again.” you smile at him, and hope you can convey that you really are happy seeing him again. “congrats on winning, reo. i’m proud.”

he sighs, shaking his head fondly. “well, whatever. at least you still visited. we missed you.”

we, huh?

reo smirks, noticing immediately when you try to search for a certain white-haired boy discreetly.

panic fills you when reo cups his hands around his mouth. “wait, don’t call him—”

“oi, nagi!” reo turns to his left, and your eyes immediately find a home in nagi’s.

your breath catches in your throat when nagi’s eyes widen ever-so-slightly. strands of hair are sticking out from his head, and his nose is all burnt from the heat. his lips part to speak, but he shakes his head instead.

then, he’s jogging towards you.

nagi seishiro is jogging towards you. christ, that’s kind of terrifying.

“hey.” you hold your hands up protectively over your body. “hey, hey, don’t—”

nagi hugs you, trapping you in his embrace, and the words die on your tongue. you don’t know what’s worse: registering the cackle reo is letting out or the fact that nagi doesn’t actually smell, and you find comfort in his warmth.

“you came,” he breathes.

you blink up at him, wilting under his stare. “well. reo said i could.”

nagi’s brows knit together subtly, and you almost grin in victory.

“i missed you,” nagi says, squeezing you in his grasp, “a lot.”

you look at him, and realize that it’s not just reo who’s changed. nagi is staring straight at you, in your eyes, and he isn’t wavering or shying away when you stare back. his eyes are alight with conviction.

suddenly, your mouth goes dry. “i—i missed you, too, nagi.”

something in nagi’s eyes shift.

this is what you wanted: for nagi to be forward, to take what he wants, say what is on his mind, but you weren’t expecting it to melt you in a puddle like this.

“hey,” you tug his arm, face in flames, “i think your teammates are calling you—”

“you came for reo,” nagi murmurs, inching closer, “you’ll stay for me.”

and, wow, okay. you need a bit to process that.

before you can respond, though, his lips meet yours and keep you there.

your heart lurches in your throat. for a second, you could only stare wide-eyed, frozen, but upon seeing the flush on nagi’s ears and the hesitant press of his lips; you let yourself melt into him. his arms tighten around you when you sling your arms over his neck.

when you start to feel a little lightheaded, you pull away, and he chases after you, pouting slightly.

“why did—” you heave, catching your breath. “why did you just kiss me like that?”

“you don’t mind,” nagi says, kissing the side of your mouth as if to coax you back into kissing him again.

“i don’t,” you agree. and frown. “why do you think so?”

this kiss will mean nothing until you can hear him say it.

“because you like me,” nagi says; there’s a dangerous glint in his eye.

“you don’t mind?”

“i don’t.” nagi smiles against your mouth. “because i like you, too.”

sorry if this is a mess!!!!!! this was supposed to be like 500 words (and was supposed to end on a bad note) but it kept flowing out of me so i just let it be 😭😭🙏

#606:BLLK #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro x you #nagi fluff #nagi seishiro fanfiction

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princessbrunette · 2 months

Note

pervyneighbor!rafe mixed w innocent!reader fhfufj .. imagine he's scarin off guys that leave her apt, workin behind the scenes to make sure he's the only man in her life she'll need. sabotaging friendships or relationships even. gettin a real ego boost outta her walkin across to his door like :((( the shower's broken again n i dunno how to fix it .. - 🍓

🌺⋆｡°🧉°⋆. ࿔*:･🤍

the funniest thing is he acts like it’s a total inconvenience to him because he’s such a brat at his core, not sure how to express the softness he feels towards you without being a dick about it.

he feels like he’s hit the jackpot when he gets a knock at his door — opening to find you, a little damp, wearing a silk robe so thin that your hard nipples poke right through. you suck on a swollen bottom lip, eyes all worried and nervy.

“and what seems to be the problem today?” he leans on the doorframe, glancing behind you to see if his dad was lurking about anywhere before back at your sweet face.

“i’m really sorry to bother you, but my shower suddenly turned cold and won’t turn warm again. m’not sure what happened.” you huff and he nods slowly, scratching his cheek.

“and… you don’t have the phone number of a single handyman who can fix that shit for you, s’what you’re tellin’ me.” he licks his lips making you press your thighs together beneath your robe. you could have called a plumber sure — but you didn’t like letting strange men into your home when no one was around. you knew rafe — and he always looked after you.

“just trust you more…” you look down at your fluffy pink slides, awkwardly wiggling painted toenails as you await an answer. he smirks when you look away, knowing he’s always got you right where he wants you.

“damn right. lemme uh, lemme come take a look, yeah? probably something fixable.” he leads you back to your house with a hand on your back— just a step behind you so that he could see the way the skin of your damp ass cheeks cling to the silk fabric of the robe, the movement of them clear beneath their cloak.

he moves you aside to take a look at your shower, fiddling about with things, occasionally walking over to the boiler before you hear a small “ah.” and the water runs once more, steam eventually apparent.

“rafe! you’re so smart! what did you do?” you grin.

“dont worry about what i did alright— y’see this? dont turn this lever anymore. doesn’t work, thats what broke it. alright, sweetheart?”

“thank you rafe!” you wrap your arms around his neck, warm tits pressing to his chest through the silk. if he just pulled the string keeping it together, you’d be totally exposed. he feels his cock bloat at the thought.

“yeah, yeah. you don’t call anyone else if you’ve got trouble in here. okay? i’m your guy.”

“you’re my guy.” you repeat softly, before staring pensively at the shower. “would you mind staying? just incase it breaks again when i’m showering…” you pout and he huffs out a chuckle of disbelief through a smirk. you had to be messing with him.

“i’ll be just outside. yeah?”

you keep the door ajar, a perfect gift for him to peep through the gap into the mirror, seeing you lather your soft body through the steamy glass of the shower door. one of these days you were gonna pay for teasing him like this.

🌺⋆｡°🧉°⋆. ࿔*:･🤍

#🍓 anon #rafe cameron prompt #pervyneighbour!rafe

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nouvxllev · 4 months

Text

closed-door policy

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader

Summary: There was a silent agreement seemed to form, a 'closed door policy' as Wednesday described when you brought it up abruptly. In the crowd, there were stolen glances, fleeting touches, and moments that hinted at something more. Nights were the hardest. You find yourself begging and succumbing to Wednesday's words, her touches, her glances, her kisses. But you knew the barrier; the barrier between friendship and lovers. You knew the both of you were far from it.

Words: 3k

Warnings: mentions of blood, near-death experience, intoxication/alcohol/drugs, angst, damn sexual tension, fwb typa story

a/n: first story to start off the year, happy new year everyone!! but this probably isn't the ideal story you'd read for the start of the year

part 2 || masterlist.

You sat there, silent. The first thing you heard was the rapid beating of your heart, the relentless ringing that could only be assumed as background noise. Not once in your life did you feel glad you heard the sound of your own body. The world drafted into something of a void, your vision impaired and your head became a haze. Accidentally intoxicating and cutting yourself. What a lame way to die.

You stared at your palm for a while.

Holy shit, this isn't yours.

The hand trembling before you was, of course, yours, yet the grazed and dried blood etched across your palm, racing through the cracks of our flesh, the sweat, rain from above, and blood seeping into another will never be.

You've always wanted to do something where you'd say your last words before you eventually meet the strangle of death to someone close to you. Or maybe someone who's in near-vicinity of you.

With the little willpower you had, you reached into the back pocket, pulling out a battered phone. With a deep breath caught in your throat, you dialed a number.

You called someone, atleast, someone who you think gives a single shit about your well-being before the world turns black. Someone you loved.

"Willa?" you choked, a strange wince in your voice.

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

You knew Wednesday wasn't one when it came to technology, actually, she's far from the target audience. Chances of her answering a phone call were slim, even if she were now owning a phone this semester. If not in a wild murder chase, fencing, or the bee-keeping club, she spent every waking moment at her workspace, the phone either tucked into the slit of her pockets or lying close by. DND, silent, volume low, nothing. You were risking your last breath for a voicemail that will never reach her.

But you were thankful she answered anyway.

The last breath you take is almost as important as the last sound you hear. A recollection, you'd say, if anyone tried to question. You had that in mind when you pressed her number, wondering if she'd answer anyway. She gave you exactly 2 seconds before she answered, only 4 seconds away for her to call out your name, and your world to close.

You'd like to think in the last few moments, Wednesday was playing her cello. You couldn't hear it, given the fact how far you were from Nevermore. But it was the same symphony you memorized in your head, the same symphony that you once hated with a passion when you first roomed with Wednesday—the perfect chords she'd play, the constant flipping of notes from her appendage, the graze of her bow against the strings, how you could see the intensity in her focused eyes as you closed yours. Back then, you despised every aspect of it, how you were always awake when she played the cello when you wanted to go to sleep. Now it became something you were humming in your head, hoping it'd keep you alive like how it always kept you awake when you wanted to sleep.

Wednesday had a change of heart when she saw your caller ID. Without a second thought, she abandoned everything down to her writing time and cello to rush through the door in the dead of night. Rain poured outside as if it was the purge in the skies, but she didn't bother changing into something decent. She needed to find you, she needed to find you in a condition that wouldn't keep her up at night. The thought of you, possibly lying half dead consumed every inch of her, leading her to spring through the woods under the haunting moonlit sky. Or, that's what you would like to believe.

There she found you near a tree, your legs splayed and your head hanging heavily over your shoulders. The phone in your grasp was slipping away as your body succumbed to giving out, the dim light of the flickering screen casted on your face before it powered off. Blood stained your hands and head, and a slash that pierced through your shirt gave Wednesday the assumption you were stabbed by someone.

Finding a lifeless body had always held a fascination for Wednesday, The last moments of someone's life could only mean so much, and it meant everything to see someone die in their own flesh and bones as the glint in their eyes faded away for Wednesday, and it would only be better if she was the cause.

But finding in you in the state you were in, realizing that you were now someone dying in their own flesh and bones, left to rot abandoned in a forest by all, Wednesday could only pray to whatever fucked deity that led you into this fate to have mercy on you, hoping that your heart would still beat as she picked you up from death.

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

By the time your eyes started to open, you could only think you made yourself through the rings of hell, a pat on the back you gave to yourself. Before finding out you were back in Ophelia Hall, the dorm you and Wednesday both shared.

You couldn't remember anything. Just how you were sitting near a tree, humming a tune you wouldn't forget even if you died, not even thinking once how your blood got mixed with someone elses. All you do remember is attending a party in the middle of the woods and that's it.

A reckless, foolish, heedless rogue.

That's what you were.

Or atleast, in Wednesday's terms.

You're pretty good you could say to yourself.

The tree you had been near was replaced by the headboard of your bed where Wednesday and Thing were diligently tending to your wounds, with a particularly nasty slash that crossed your entire abdomen. It's a surprise how you weren't dead by now.

A groan escaped your lips as you sat on the bed, absorbing Wednesday's scolding about your 'idiotic recklessness that couldn't be detained even if the leash with great resiliency were to be in her hands.'

"Ugh, chill out Wends. I still have enough blood in me to last maybe a few years. Just let it pour out."

'You're pretty calm for someone who lost a ton of blood and is still bleeding by the minute.' The appendage on your lap signed as he lifted up the cloth that was bloodied red at this point.

Wednesday found herself back in your bed carrying a medkit and some supplies she hid under the table. More specifically just some torture tools she had in hopes of torturing someone this semester. "I should have left your lifeless body to rot."

You chuckled, "'Tis fine, not that deep anyways." You were preparing to lift yourself up to adjust yourself from the uncomfortable position you were in, considering that your head was hunched over than normal, but Wednesday's glare warned you against any movement. It's like wrong twitch, and she seemed ready to take away your ability to move altogether.

"Why didn't you carry me to the clinic?"

"The school clinic is closed for the night," Wednesday replied, opening the kit to pull out a pair of scissors, tweezers, and threads. "You should thank the spontaneous timing you have on death."

"Then why don't you call an ambulance?" You eyed how Wednesday fixed herself onto you, your line of sight following her gaze. Seeing how a single glare from her automatically made you think to lie down without being told to.

"Your soul would've passed by the time they've arrived."

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. "I thought you liked seeing people die. Change of heart?" But then that smirk eventually faded away and replaced with a wince when she pierced the clean part of your skin to thread the needle.

She shot you a withering look, then turned her attention back to cleaning and dressing the wound. She didn't answer immediately, what she was thinking was unreadable, even for you. "Foolish of you to mistake this for compassion. I'd rather not deal with the mess of explaining why there is one less head amongst us."

You couldn't help but chuckle at her matter-of-fact response. "Ah, the inconvenience of your roommate's dead body. I appreciate your utmost concern, Wednesday."

You want to believe you and Wednesday are on the best of terms. After all, she is tending to your wounds and giving a talk that isn't limited to one sentence. Or atleast that's what you want to believe. You knew above all else she'd go to lengths to manipulate someone to get what she wanted, so why let your guard down now.

But there was that thing. If letting your guard down is what it takes to be noticed by Wednesday Addams, you wanted to get manipulated by her. Even if it's one-sided.

You loved her.

"Why did you request my presence?" Wednesday started, her eyes still focused on the large cut you had.

"You mean call you?" You winced as she continued stitching, the throbbing pain from your chest coming back to haunt your nerves.

"Yes. Of course, call me."

"Dying's too easy Wends. One fucked up shit you do to your body you're—" You blew a raspberry, seemingly to mimic an explosion, a combustion of sorts. Which, of course, earned nothing from Wednesday. If you were sitting up, you'd see an unimpressed look on her face by now.

"I wanted to live for you, Willa. But even if I did die, atleast I spent the last moment calling you. Even in death, I couldn't escape the music of your cello."

"...I assume you are intoxicated up to this moment." She stitched up the last piece of skin and tightened it while wrapping your chest up with gauze.

'Did it not wear off?' Thing signed before Wednesday requested him to go fetch water and draw a bath.

Wednesday now regretted how she ignored you when you shared you'll be going to a party held up by the stoners. How it'll last up until midnight, and how she didn't tell you that it'll likely be some fraternity party that they just let anybody go, even if you weren't a part of it.

She thought you'd just be in there for a little while, considering how you weren't big on parties, you were just someone who wanted to join for a little bit and then eventually dip if things got worse. But she didn't expect this to be the outcome. By the look of your state, and how fucked up your mental state was judging how you talked, and how you often slurred your words, she could only assume someone either spiked your drinks with a shit ton of drugs or someone forced you to take some while being under the influence of alcohol then took you out into the woods for whatever reason.

Wednesday tucked her hand under your head and then pulled you into a sitting position, her dark eyes flicking up to meet yours. The unimpressed look on her face softened for a moment.

You took notice of how her eyes softened, or maybe it was just you and the drugs talking in your head, but there was definitely something. After a painful stitching process on your chest, she was now tending to your wounds on your skull area, not that much, but you knew your head was slightly bleeding and how you definitely got a blackeye, considering how closing your eyes burns like hell.

"Living requires more sacrifice than dying." Wednesday started, her voice being something that lifted the weight on your shoulders.

You chuckled weakly, the pain in your chest now drowned out. "Guess that's why it's so easy to do, and how some would like to." You studied her as she spoke, your voice seemingly getting quite as your gaze began to drift off somewhere else.

"How it brings me peace," You started, and even from here, or maybe just because you were under the influence, you could see Wednesday trembling. "How it erases my problems, how it erases me out of existence." You voice dwindled into a whisper, a breathy sigh left you.

"How death was the only way to get your undivided attention." Your eyes gaze over Wednesday's lips before going over to her eyes, to your surprise, she was leaned back, her usual stoic expression wavered and her jaw was clenched.

A flicker of something, maybe amusement, crossed Wednesday's features. "You have an uncanny way of getting what you want."

You chuckled weakly, the pain in your body forgotten and replaced with something burning inside you. "I just wanted your hands on me, Wends." Not something you'd say after going through a near-death experience, but it was partially true.

She met your gaze, her dark eyes meeting yours, who just wanted nothing but love. Her hand moved to gently cup your cheek, her thumb tracing a delicate pattern. "There are better ways to make me notice you." She murmured, a breathy voice you never heard from her before, her eyes searching yours for consent before her eyes flicker to your lips.

You closed the remaining distance. Your lips brushed against hers, a soft, lingering kiss you placed onto her soft ones. Wednesday responded, her lips parting slightly, deepening the kiss.

You could feel the softness of her lips, the warmth of her breath mingling with yours. Her fingers traced a slow, tantalizing path down your neck, sliding her hands around you and pulling you closer, but careful enough she didn't bring back that agonizing pain in your chest.

Every touch, every moment, everything that made Wednesday her at this moment made your world fade away. The warmth of her body against yours sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel her hands gliding across your body while you sat there, letting her own you in every way possible with just one single kiss.

The taste of her was intoxicating, intoxicating enough that it just might bring back that feeling of numbness and ringing in your ears, the idea of luxury was something more, something like her lips onto yours. Your hands found their way to her waist, your fingers tracing the curves of her body as you deepened the kiss.

When the kiss finally broke off, you found yourself breathless and wanting more, hunger reflecting in your eyes. Wednesday's gaze lingered on yours, and never once did reality hit you more harder than you thought.

Holy fuck, you kissed Wednesday Addams.

If you weren't dead that time in the woods, you were certainly dead now.

"Oh God. Oh shit, Wednesday, I'm so—I'm so sorry. I'll just—actually, I'll just room with Enid and Yoko for the whole semester, okay? Okay!" Panic laced your words as you fumbled across the bed, "Good—fuck that hurts!"

You winced as you tried to get up, the pain shooting through your body. Wednesday's hand gently pressed against your shoulder, halting your attempts to escape. "Sit down, y/n" she commanded, her tone surprisingly gentle.

"Stay," she commanded, her voice low and steady. Damn were you a dog or something? There was a glint in her eyes, something you could only mistake as someone in love with you too. "Apologies are unnecessary."

You hesitated, caught between the urge to escape the situation and the magnetic pull of Wednesday's presence. "I just... I didn't mean to overstep, I—"

Wednesday silenced you with a lingering gaze. "I assure you, you are far from overstepping," she stated, her tone unwavering. "In fact, you have my attention. For the record, I do not want you rooming with Enid and Yoko."

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

Everyone knew you as the unlucky girl to receive a dormmate like Wednesday Addams. Considering all the rumors going around, how she keeps secret arsenals in the fabric of her clothing, the maybe-not-so-empty-50/50-threats and her aura in general made everyone fear her.

But honestly, you found that utter bullshit.

That's why you couldn't help but laugh and send a nonchalant "It's fine" when people ask about your mental state rooming with Wednesday Addams, and how people crossed the hallway just to avoid passing by your room. Well, probably since all the rumors were true, and the fact that she was scary as fuck was definitely true.

"New rumor in town saying you've got a pet spider that guards the entrance of our room," you mentioned, entering the room after your club and classes ended, wanting nothing more than to see the goth girl that everyone feared.

Wednesday glanced up from her book, a dry tone leaving her lips. "Humoring. Unfortunately, I left my pet spider back at the Addams Estate."

Actually, back then, you were one of the people who were terrified of Wednesday Addams. The first time you entered your dorm when you transferred, you had a knife shot at you, slightly grazing the side of your neck. But every now and then, you found yourself warming up to her. Why? Even you didn't know. Something about her, something about her coming every late at night after a wild murder chase, something about her playing her goddamn cello and spending every living day on her typewriter, just something about her made you insane.

Wednesday's gaze held yours for a moment, the intensity of her dark eyes softening. "Maybe you're just not easily scared."

"Or maybe I've just had the pleasure of getting to know the real Wednesday Addams," you replied with a grin.

The weeks that followed the near-death experience you had held a strange tension between you and Wednesday. The both of you fell into a routine where the both of you would wake up, pretend nothing happened between the both of you, and go to classes, and when it ends, it'll be like a flick of a switch where you two would eventually find eachother in eachothers pants.

There was a silent agreement seemed to form, a 'closed door policy' as Wednesday described when you brought it up abruptly. In the crowd, there were stolen glances, fleeting touches, and moments that hinted at something more. Nights were the hardest. You find yourself begging and succumbing to Wednesday's words, her touches, her glances, her kisses. But you knew the barrier, the barrier between friendship and lovers. You knew the both of you were far from it.

But that was what you wanted, right?

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

a/n: part 2 soon???

#wednesday addams x reader #wendesday addams x you #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #jenne ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega

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alchemistc · 2 years

Text

Eddie's crush on Steve Harrington takes a strange turn when Harrington shows up at school two weeks before Thanksgiving of '84 and refuses to take off his sunglasses until his English teacher threatens to send him to the office - Eddie catches sight of the purple and yellow bruises and Steve spends twenty minutes feeling woozy and then ends up running to the bathroom to throw up because concussions are a bitch.

Eddie, like an idiot, chases after him. Spends half a minute listening to Steve retch and then crawls under the locked stall door to Steve's confused protest and leans against the stall with Steve's hair gathered in one hand until Steve is done puking.

"Hell of a hangover, Harrington," Eddie says to lighten the mood, knowing full well that's not it, and Steve thinks about pressing his face into the cool toilet, doesn't because this is a fucking boys high school bathroom.

"Billy Hargrove knocked my brain around," Steve says, wincing, and Eddie pushes the sunglasses he'd snaked off Steve's desk back on his face.

Eddie smokes him out behind the football fields at lunch and when Steve tries to pay him for the weed Eddie patently ignores the offer - uncaps a pen from his jacket pocket and scrawls his phone number across Steve's forearm and tells him to call if wants to hang out.

"What if I just want weed?"

"My business hours are ten to seven."

Steve calls him two nights later at half past seven and Eddie is Very Cool about it. (He's so not cool about it, he dances around the living room for a full five minutes and is thankful Wayne isn't around to see it.)

They spark up the strangest friendship either one of them have ever had but the moment Eddie realizes he actually genuinely likes Steve as a person he shoves that crush way down deep because Harrington is a genuinely cool dude and Eddie's fucked up friendships misreading the situation before.

----

Gareth fucking hates Steve Harrington.

He comes back from winter break to find Steve Harrington sitting next to Eddie at lunch, keeps his cool until Harrington leaves for gym class and then pitches a whole ass fit but it's too late because Eddie had introduced Steve to the band and a few of the Hellfire club during the break while Gareth was stuck in Mishawaka with his super religious bigot aunt and uncle and all of them grudgingly LIKE Harrington.

Jeff shrugs when Gareth tries to gather up some support. "He made us hot chocolate after band practice because the garage was cold. He charmed my mom into forgetting she hates Eddie."

Paul's zero help, because when Tommy Hagan ran into them at the diner a week into winter break and tried to start shit Harrington had threatened to rearrange Tommy's face and Tommy hasn't looked twice at them since.

The Hellfire club thinks he's adorable because he doesn't know what a kobold is and the thought of a twenty sided die makes him scrunch his nose up like he's in physical pain having the think about it and for some fucking reason they all find that sort of stupidity charming.

Eddie is a nonstarter - one bad word against him and he ices Gareth out for a week.

The third time Harrington almost freezes to death sitting in Gareth's garage while the band practices, he offers up his own garage (It's heated, because of fucking course it is, and he has the decency to pretend to be embarrassed at how fucking rich he is) and then cooks them dinner afterwards like some fifties housewife and actually, fuck everything, Harrington is an alright dude but Gareth doesn't have to LIKE him.

---

Jeff finally has someone to talk to about baseball - Harrington never played but he's a Cubs fan and when Jeff laughs about that for a full twenty minutes Steve has to explain The Curse, and if Eddie gets a gleam in his eye about the masochism of choosing a team destined to lose then Jeff isn't gonna say a word about it. Not his business, and he's not gonna step in shit just because Steve doesn't actually seem opposed to the outrageous fucking flirt Eddie is around him.

He loves his friends, would do pretty much anything for them, but they're all so enamored with the idea of being outcasts that all his mainstream interests get shoved aside and Steve is so goddamn mainstream he's actually not sure how Eddie befriended him but he's not gonna complain about it.

When it becomes clear, sometime around April, that Eddie is probably gonna fail (again) Steve gets a bug up his ass about it and suddenly Nancy fucking Wheeler is spending three nights a week at Eddie's. It'd be sweet, if it didn't cut into band practice, but the first time Jeff bangs on the trailer door to bitch about Eddie missing it again, Steve throws the door open and invites him in to watch the show - Eddie looks like he's about five minutes away from shaking little Nancy until her head pops off, and she looks like she'd like to strangle him right back, and they're arguing about concepts Jeff can't wrap his head around but the fact that Eddie knows his shit and just doesn't apply himself isn't new to Jeff but it clearly is to Wheeler.

When she finally leaves (only after watching Eddie painstakingly write out a scribbled mess of a paper for English class, checking on his progress every twenty minutes or so to his absolute mortification) Steve hands Eddie a beer and Eddie stares at a wall for ten minutes.

"Your ex is scary," Eddie finally mutters, and when he halfheartedly stuffs the finished essay into his bag Steve takes the time to reorganize it in a way that Jeff thinks might actually remind Eddie to turn the fucking thing in.

Jeff doesn't mention that he thinks it's kind of weird to be friends with your ex-girlfriend, especially when the rumor mill is pretty adamant that this particular ex cheated on Harrington.

"I'll make sure to write out a thank you note when you graduate because of her."

They're halfway through a movie when Gareth calls, Steve and Eddie arguing over some piece of trivia about the production team that Steve knows he's wrong about but refuses to give up the fight over, and Jeff feels a little shitty about forgetting the reason he came over in the first place.

They're interesting, is the thing. Jeff likes hanging out with them just to watch the juxtaposition of two guys so startlingly different from each other. And maybe he's a little invested in the will-they-won't-they of it all - because he'd been the first one Eddie had introduced to Steve in the nebulous time between whenever the fuck they'd started hanging out and when Eddie had decided not to keep him some dirty little secret - because he'd sort of just trusted Eddie not to be an idiot about it, and if he thought Harrington was important enough to bring into the fold than who the hell was Jeff to deny that - because Harrington is shockingly loyal and steadfast and Jeff thinks he's probably about a month off from a realization about himself he's probably not fully prepared for.

Jeff's gay uncle is the loneliest dude he's ever known and he'd always figured that was just how it was to be gay but there's shit brewing between Steve and Eddie that Eddie refuses to acknowledge and Steve hasn't noticed yet and there's probably gonna be some drama when it all comes to a head but Jeff knows Steve's gonna need someone other than Eddie to talk about it. So.

---

Steve invites himself into Gareth's the moment he opens the door. Just presses past him and lays himself out on the couch in the living room, and he knows Gareth isn't his biggest fan but that's sort of why he'd come here first. If anyone was gonna give him the absolute truth it's gonna be Gareth.

The thing is, he's been cruising along since November, barely passing his own classes, enjoying having friends who aren't pieces of shit, enjoying getting close to Eddie, ignoring that voice in the back of his head that still lingers in the feel of Eddie's fingers in his hair while he was puking his guts out on the cold bathroom floor, and the ignoring is getting harder and harder because Eddie's naturally a touchy feely person and Steve isn't used to that shit from anyone. The thing is he's pretty sure Eddie telling him he's gay, admitting it like some dark confession with wide eyes and a lick of fear crowding his features - Eddie telling him that shouldn't put him on edge like this, shouldn't make him so fucking angry, because he's trying, alright, he's trying to be, like, a better person and he's pretty sure he'd reacted okay because Eddie hadn't bolted but he's - he's upset about it and Gareth and Jeff are the only ones he's sure already know and he needs some fucking clarity.

Gareth will give it to him straight.

He's on a roll - pacing and gesturing and trying to work his way through all the shit in his head, the idea he's got of Eddie telling him because he's into someone and Steve's gonna end up in the back burner, or third wheeling, or fully fucking forgotten when he's had all of Eddie's attention for the last six months. "It's, like – I'm mad about it. Or. Like. Not mad, I just. The thought of having to see him happy with someone el–."

And. Huh.

"Dude," Gareth says, and Steve feels the laughter breaking loose - the ridiculousness of this moment, of choosing Gareth of all fucking people, the one person he hasn't won over despite his best attempts to not be a total dickhead. Steve fully fucking loses it, flopping onto Gareth's couch, laughing himself hoarse while Gareth stares at him like he's grown a second head, only sobering when Gareth sits himself down on the edge Steve isn't occupying.

"Shit, man," Steve says. "What do I do?" Because he can't lose Eddie, right? Other than Eddie he's got a gaggle of middle schoolers for friends and if things sour with Eddie it's not like Jeff or Paul or any of the others is going to choose Steve.

"Did you mean to come out to me right there, or was that an accident?"

"I literally didn't know until just then."

Gareth's been called some version of a homophobic slur enough times to know it sucks even if it's not true, and he's met Jeff's uncle a few times, seen the pain he carries, has always been terrified of Eddie losing his sparkle to a cruel world, and maybe he's never quite trusted Steve Harrington but clearly Harrington trusts him, which is.

"Eddie's had a crush on you for years, man, why do you think he wanted to be friends with you in the first place?"

"Fuck off," Steve says, and he looks a little miserable about it like he thinks this is some cosmic joke Gareth's cooked up.

"You should probably, like, take some time. Think about it. Make sure you're prepared for how much people fucking suck and decide if whatever you're feeling right now is worth the hassle."

"Eddie's not a hassle," Steve says, and Gareth decides right then and there that Harrington? Actually a good dude.

---

Steve throws a graduation party. It's a smaller affair than he would have had a year ago, more laid back, but a surprising amount of people actually show up - all of Hellfire, even the you freshman who Steve expressly forbids from the punch bowl that's mostly vodka (a few of them sneak a taste and Harrington berates them comically, hands on his hips and looking every inch a harried mother as they slink off towards his pool with the solo cups of water he replaces their punch with).

Nancy shows, even brings Jonathan, and Steve pretends it's not awkward, makes a joke about Nancy avoiding the punch that lands better than he expected and when Nancy slings both arms around Eddie and congratulates him, Jonathan and Steve take a moment to watch the pair.

They've had a few awkward moments in the halls, and a few more any time they happen to be bringing their respective heathens around to the Wheelers at the same time, but Steve had given NancyandJonathan the green light as best he could and he genuinely wants them to do well even if it had fucking sucked at the time to realize he'd felt way more for Nancy than she'd felt for him.

When Eddie and Nancy break the hug they start an argument that will last at least an hour if no one puts a stop to it, so Steve shows Jonathan to the liquor cabinet to make better drinks ("Wasn't kidding about the punch, man," Steve says and Jonathan's smile is almost warm.) and he beelines it out to the poolside where Nancy has her nose scrunched and Eddie is gesturing with both arms flailing in the air.

He has a fucking type.

When the younger kids finally leave and the group dwindles, Jeff and Gareth bemoan who the fuck is gonna run Hellfire now and Jonathan and Steve both throw a name into the hat - and Eddie's only met the kids that seem to hero worship Steve a few times but he tells Jeff to be in the lookout for them and proceeds to chug a full cup of punch. Grimaces once he's done, and Steve shoots Gareth a frown because - because they'd come up with a plan, sort of, and this party was mostly for Eddie even if Steve had graduated too but he hadn't planned on Eddie getting wasted.

"Don't see why you can't still go through with it," Gareth says under his breath while Jonathan and Eddie are getting high next to the pool, and Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to remind himself that Gareth, for all that he's the closest thing Steve has to a confidante outside of Eddie, has been on one date in his entire life.

"I'm not gonna tell him I'm in fucking love with him when he might be too drunk to goddamn remember it," he tells Gareth and Gareth's eyes go a bit wide because - whoops, Steve hasn't actually said that before.

"You -."

"New plan," Steve interrupts before Gareth can call him out on it. "I'm gonna drink the rest of that punch and forget we ever even made a plan."

Gareth recruits Jeff to talk him down from that.

---

Steve gets a card from his parents for graduation and a week later he gets a call from his father telling him it's time for him to man up and make his own way in the world.

At least, that's what Eddie had gleaned from the conversation they'd had on his front stoop two days before graduation.

He wakes up from a night of getting absolutely blitzed to his face plastered against one of the soft pillows from Steve's bed and spends a good thirty minutes staring at the plaid wallpaper before he finally manages to turn over to find the glass of water and the bottle of Tylenol on the bedside table. By the time he finally manages to make it down the stairs the rest of the overnighters were already stirring, and Steve is making waffles and talking to Nancy in a quiet voice.

"...didn't even get into Tech. He's just trying to prove a point, because he hates having a screwup for a son."

"Did you even apply to Tech?" Nancy asks, and Steve shoots her a look over his shoulder. The answer is no, and Eddie knows that because these are the kinds of conversations he has with Steve, the same soft voices and then same knowing looks and Eddie watches them for a moment with something burgeoning on understanding.

The moment is broken when Gareth rolls past Eddie into the kitchen and does a double take.

"Nice sweatshirt," he says, and he wiggles his eyebrows like that's supposed to mean something - but Eddie hadn't even realized he wasn't wearing the same thing he'd come in until Gareth pointed it out.

It's Steve's - and Eddie hadn't paid it much mind when he woke up because he'd woken up in Steve's fucking bed but it smells like him - some sort of sports related monstrosity with green and orange accents and when Jeff claps him on the back and says the same fucking thing Eddie watches Steve's face go pink.

He's annoyingly cute, and Eddie shoves that thought down because in a moment of weakness he'd allowed himself to compare his relationship with Steve to Nancy fucking Wheelers relationship with Steve and - and it's a fucking sweatshirt, and Eddie vaguely remembers spilling punch on his own shirt, and Steve bundling him up the stairs and tossing a change of clothes at him, remembers splaying himself out on Steve's bed once he'd changed, and then nothing. He'd had a fucking lot to drink.

Everyone trickles out after breakfast, Gareth the last to leave before Eddie, and Eddie watches the two of them have a whispered argument by the front door that ends in him gesturing in Eddies direction and then throwing up his hands before shoving past Steve out the door

He doesn't get what Gareth's problem with Steve is.

Steve is - Steve's great, actually, which is a problem for Eddie in particular but shouldn't be an issue for Gareth the same way, because Gareth is strictly a tits man. No, Gareth had had a bug up his ass about Steve Harrington since that first day and Eddie hates that he won't just give up whatever idea he's got in his head that Steve isn't a fucking dream.

He's bad at ignoring the crush, alright?

When Steve sidles back into the kitchen he's got a serious look on his face Eddie doesn't particularly like. And - he should probably go, too, like the rest of them, but he's still perched up on the counter, wearing Steve Harrington's clothes and drinking Steve Harrington's coffee and admiring Steve Harrington's stupid pretty face.

He's so fucked.

"What do you remember from last night?" Steve asks once he's got his own coffee cup back in his hand, and Eddie gives him a rundown of the first half without issue. It gets a little foggy after he'd downed a second cup of punch.

"Did I do something stupid?" He doesn't drink very often, is the thing - too many bad memories of the elder Munson getting shithoused - but he'd fucking graduated and flipped Higgins the bird with diploma in hand and he'd indulged, just the once.

Steve grimaces. "Not - stupid, no. Just. Before you fell asleep you uh..."

Eddie tries to pull up the memory, gets a throbbing pain in his temple for the trouble, and manages only a vague whisper of a memory - catching Steve's fingers in his own as Steve tucked a blanket over him.

Steve takes a sip of his coffee. Runs a hand through his hair - delightfully messy, which is the sort of thing Eddie should t let himself linger on too long because it's not like he's going to get to see him like this often, rumpled and sleepy even though he's been up for a while now.

"You. Said something "

Eddie says a lot of things, and mostly he says a lot of bullshit, but -

Steve's knuckles against Eddie's lips, minty fresh breath because Steve had told him he'd feel better in the morning if he brushed his teeth before he passed out, Steve standing over him and smiling as Eddie's eyes shuttered closed, a soft sigh escaping his lips as Steve's fingers drifted from his. "Love you," he'd muttered under his breath, when Steve's footsteps had retreated -

Fucking.

Drunk Eddie is a goddamn problem.

"What did I say?" Eddie asks, and he's thankful his voice doesn't waver because he's gotta play this off, some how, some way, because he's not ready to not have Steve in his life and -

"It - it doesn't." Steve sighs. "You really don't remember?"

And he sounds - upset, about it, like he'd expected they'd be able to talk about it later.

"Uh..."

Steve runs a hand over his face. Sighs. Turns his head up to stare at the ceiling and Eddie, like an idiot, stares at the long line of his neck and thinks about biting it.

"Screw it," Steve says, and before Eddie can so much as blink Steve's across the kitchen and crowding into Eddie's space. He's shorter, like this, with Eddie perched on the counter, has to tilt his head up to catch Eddie's gaze and he's - close. Closer than Eddie tends to let him be for extended periods of time. "I like you, Eddie."

"...but?"

Steve snorts, and his hand curls around Eddie's knee, which is - it's doing something to Eddie's head, and maybe he's still drunk from last night because everything feels a bit hazy. "No but, man. I - you -." He scrunches up his nose the same way Wheeler does, but Eddie doesn't find it half as endearing when Nancy does it. "You've had my name splashed across your back all morning and it's driving me crazy, man, I'm so into you it's not even funny."

Nice sweatshirt, both Jeff and Gareth had said, like they were all in on some sort of joke, and Steve had chosen this shit out of one of his drawers, and Steve hadn't seemed like he had much to drink at all last night, and Steve is -

"If this is a joke it's a fucked up one, Steve."

Steve curls a hand into Eddie's hair and kisses him.

---

Gareth doesn't comment on the sweatshirt when he strides into the Harrington garage two days later, but he takes one look at the purpling bruise on Steve's neck and spends a moment torn between wanting to high five the dude and bemoan how insufferable Eddie's going to be with a full ass boyfriend. He keeps his mouth shut instead.

Jeff doesn't have the same problem. "Nice hickey," he says, poking at it as Steve hands out drinks, and Steve goes red and ducks his head but later, in the quiet privacy of the closed garage he tugs at Eddie's belt loop and presses a kiss to his cheek in full view of the band. Eddie preens, so Gareth was 100% right about that.

On the plus side, Gareth thinks, even as Eddie tries to persuade them to warm up with a fucking love song, at least Eddie might have something to stick around in Hawkins for a little bit longer.

#steddie headcanon #steddie fanfic #steddie ff #this was supposed too be just a headcanon about eddie befriending steve after season 2 #and somehow it got OUT OF HAND #anyway gareth and jeff ship steddie #if you get nothing else out of this get that at least

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arkhammaid · 2 months

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— ˚₊‧⁺˖THE LIGHTNING ON TRACK | THE PRE-SEASON TESTING

fandom. formula one & mcu

about. it's pre-season testing time!

content warnings. smau & written parts, written in 3rd person & lowercase, not edited & proofread

word count. 1.1k

notes. we're dipping into the season, slowly but surely... this took me some time to finish, i literally didn't know what to write for testing ://

"we are here in bahrain, pre-season testing for all teams in 2025, welcome everyone!" croft greets the whole world, as live footage is shown across the devices. the camera spans over the whole track, to each individual paddock until stopping at the final one, in blinding white.

"the season is starting with a bang, for the first time in formula one, we will see a stark owned team on the track! in white and chrome they are, an iconic design and everyone is eager to see what the stark manufactured cars can do!"

"how right you are, david! welcome, i'm will buxton and i have someone of interest with me here. right here, in front of the stark racing garage- y/n stark, number 95, one of the drivers for stark racing. so, y/n, tell me, how are you feeling? are you ready for the first time in the car?"

"hello will, thank you for having me. well, it's not quite the first time in the car, we had a testing back in miami at the end of january, but it's something different to be officially here now. but i'm feeling confident- we have our data, the predicted numbers and we think we'll be able to achieve them."

"so, no major upgrades or changes planned?" y/n shakes her head with a grin.

"do you really think i'm going to answer that question? ask me again, when we're done." will laughs at that, nodding his head in understanding.

"understandable, but i will hold you onto that! gonna knock on the garage doors three days later." y/n laughs again, head thrown back. "but, y/n, how does it feel to be on the paddock? have you met the rest of the drivers yet? made any new friendships?"

"well..."

"can you turn that off?", carlos gruffly asks his teammate, who just waves his hand at him as answer. with a groan, he stares at the tv, showing the first driver interview of the day, y/n stark. her voice washes over him, empty answers of being excited to properly meet everyone and maybe even bond with a few drivers.

"i don't know why you're so obsessed, perceval." charles immediatly splutters, waving his hands to deny the accusation.

"i'm not! but it's so interesting! tony stark is literally here, aren't you at least a bit excited? arthur said that y/n is like him!"

"what, arrogant? self-centered?"

"carlos! stop being so negative! i meant like- a genius! someone who raced with her back in f3 is friends with arthur, i forgot his name, but apparently y/n constantly does calculations while she drives. that's why she's so good overtaking." carlos just sighs and leaves charles to whatever he's doing right now. he has no interest in this circus.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—

kevin watches the interviews from the sideline, completely satisfied with how everyone is hounding y/n and leaving him in peace. of course he had his fair amount of questions and interviews, but much less than his teammate.

it has been a whirlwind, ever since he joined the team. strange, for a while, everything seeming so futuristic, but now his glasses feel like a another part of his race suit he's putting on every day.

the team has been welcoming, open to his input, but it's very clear to him that y/n is their star driver and he's the support. and he's alright with it. of course, winning a championship would mean everything, but he knows he's not going to continue this forever. especially not when he has a kid, he's missing so much... something he dislikes, because family means everything to him.

this is why his contract is only for two years. if he wishes to continue and his results at the end of the season are steady, tony promised him a seat as long he wishes for. he is incredibly thankful for this offer, fully knowing that this kind of support doesn't exist in formula one.

"ready to go?", he asks, after y/n's press officer ushers her out of the mob called journalists.

"so ready to go", she grins. but they're not alone, the netflix camera's immediately surround them and capture their walk to the garage. people part from them, staring openly at the drivers. one of the most iconic footage later shown in the drive to survive documentary.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—

"so, here he goes, kevin magnussen for stark racing, leaving his side of the garage. the car is looking incredible, i really like the color!", comments crofty and the other men immediately begin to chatter as well. throwing in rumors and hearsay about the team, they expertly fill the silence of kevin doing his first lap on the track.

"last to leave the garage and on the track, all eyes are on stark racing- oh and there he goes, picking up the speed!"

"his tyres seem to have warmed up- woah! look at the smoothness! kevin seems to be home in his car, his struggles from the last season are nowhere to be seen", adds jenson, while the cameras continue to follow the white car with the number 20.

"and there he goes! on medium tyres, setting the third fastest lap already, this looks definitely promising." will shares his own thoughts, reminding the viewers that there is definitely a possibility of stark racing going at least one or two seconds faster.

"by the looks of it, the stark racing team seems to be satisfied- honestly can't tell much, the glasses are hiding too much", jokes another man and all of them laugh. "bloody starks, am i right?"

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ 🏎️ ˖⁺‧₊˚—

the testing days are filled with endless laps and data, followed by long hours of debrief. they've already proven that they're fast, slotting themselves on the upper half of the grid, sticking close to the more experienced teams.

speculations are thrown around, is stark racing sandbagging? of course they must be, while others think that this is the best they can do. neither of the drivers or the team principal lose a word on it, instead they repeat always the same statements.

"we delivered what we predicted."

"we tested our theories, confirmed or debunked them, so the past three days have been very productive."

"we're exactly there where we want to be and we know our next steps."

empty words and yet the journalists pounce on them as if they're the next headlines. the whole world watches with eagerness as stark racing finishes up their debut in formula one and they impatiently await the first race of the season.

taglist. @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @akiraquote , @kiiyoooo , @nichmeddar , @nothingfuninthislife , @minkyungseokie , @fionaschicken , @lyrasconstellation , @spideybv28 , @keii134 , @starssfall , @tpwkstiles, @fangirl-dot-com , @nichmeddar , @lady-laura-speaks , @nikfigueiredo , @hinamesgigantica , @brakingboundaries , @almostjollypizza , @yoremins , @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @celesteblack08 , @watermelon-sugars-things , @lighttsoutlewis , @radiantdanvers , @vellicora, @sterredem , @hiireadstuff , @jolixtreesunn , @mypage-myfandoms , @nelly187 @greeneyesandsunshine , @fulla02 , @welovediaaxx , @whyamireadingthis , @67-angelofthelordme-67 , @blueberry64857959 , @winchesterwife27 , @six-call , @skywalker1dream , @mellowarcadefun , @cherry-piee , @peterholland04 , @motorsportloverf1 , @renarots , @msbyjackal , @woozarts , @leclucklerc , @yl90

crossed off tags mean i can't tag you!

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE SERIES TAGLIST? please leave a comment on this post or send a non anonymous ask!

ARKHAM MAID 2024

#f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 female driver #female driver #fem!driver #f1 fanfic #kevin magnussen x reader #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ lightning on track #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ creations

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boyfhee · 1 year

Text

⋆ NOW WE DATE ! · psh

SYNOPSIS · everyone knew you were sunghoon's biggest fan— or so you claimed to be— it didn't take a scientist to guess after your nonstop gushing about him during enhypen's debut. now, they didn't know you found him 'so babygirl,' not until you accidentally tweeted it on your main.

GENRE · fluff, humour, mutual pinning, mini smau

WARNINGS · usual kys / kms jokes, suggestive humour, FAST PACED like u see i plan to finish this in fifteen chapters so the pacing might feel off like none of us r used to ppl talking, realising their feelings, clearing misunderstandings and getting together in just fifteen chapters i Know

STATUS · COMPLETED

NOTE · PLS DONT HAVE HIGH EXPECTATIONS this is just a silly little plot i thought of in my silly little head during silly little appointment at the doctor's...tho i hope u have fun reading. ps both yn and hoon are CRAZY.

TEASER

PROFILES ›

iris girls | enhypen boys

CHAPTERS ›

all the pictures used are only references and are not supposed to depict reader's appearance in any way ! the chapter titles and number of chapters are subjected to change accordingly !

001 · who wants me

002 · divine intuition

003 · shower thoughts

004 · very strange and nice

005 · breath getting fainter

006 · neo zoned

007 · ruin our friendship

008 · clown emoji

009 · me when i lie

010 · emoji game so weak

011 · dimension : denial

012 · dots are connecting

013 · dating hotspot

014 · netflix originals

015 · now we date — epilogue !

taglist : @lcv3lies @lunavixia @moonlighthoon @astrae4 @rikkiloveskpop @tyunni @sungookie @luhvlyuna @ixayjun @alpha-mommy69 @leemyeonbabab @sserafimez @4imhry @dimplewonie @bababameme @intaksfav @tophstwinkletoes @zonked-times @j-wyoung @luvkpopp @hoonluvr2000 @hoeinthehouse @lunacrtk @jaeyunverse @dokiyeom @luvhyun3 @atrirose @shsnaacc @cha0thicpisces @tinydeerwasteland @chaechae-23 @renchai @yenqa @moonshoon @maiverie @tnyhees @sd211 @phenomenalgirl9 @ctrlemis @y7n2394-ze @flwrshee @oke-doke @weird-bookworm @wonieleles @hikyeom @whois-alexis @franknsteinn @xiaoderrrr @pshchives @zuzu-the-simp @kimiesstuff @txtbrainrot @jiawji

#—approved.#@ : nwd.#k labels #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen #kpop fluff #enhypen smau #kpop smau #sunghoon enhypen #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smau #park sunghoon #park sunghoon smau #park sunghoon x reader

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beom1e · 1 year

Text

ephemeral masterlist

plot-accurate playlist

years ago, your only friend passed away — to cope with the loneliness, you began texting their disconnected number as if it were your own personal diary. one day, the messages deliver, and you start an anonymous friendship with a stranger you’ve never met.

ephemeral — something that lasts for a very short time. a plant that grows, flowers, and dies shortly.

pairing choi beomgyu x fem! reader

genre strangers to lovers, university au, film student! reader, music student! beomgyu, social media au, fluffy angst

warning prior character death, themes of depression and anxiety, a lot of venting, mention of a life-threatening accident, deception, details of kissing, cursing

chapters

profile | prologue

one | delivered

two | movie freak

three | lunch

four | quirk

five | mood killer

six | nervous

seven | strange

eight | soft launch

nine | pretty girl

ten | mr. nonchalant

eleven | friends

twelve | girlfriend reveal

thirteen | terrible

fourteen | best friend

fifteen | feel lighter

sixteen | thank you

seventeen | crazy wild

eighteen | perfect pair

nineteen | eternally

twenty | hostess era

twenty one | too late

twenty two | stupid, naive

twenty three | stilled

status complete.

taglist @heart2beom @txtbrainrot @fairyofshampgyu @forever-in-the-sky2 @bluebearybeom @simplygyuu @taekwondoes @ghostfacefricker6969 @wccycc @soobin-chois @yoongisus @meikyuukairou @goldennika @joti17 @yumilovesloona @baekberrie @chillfilms @arizzu @lost-leopard-beanie @makiswrld @gyu2304 @yeonyeonyeonjun @seodami @beowmgyu @catsyoon @harufluff @yenqa @xiaoderrrr @captivq @strawbrinkofdeath @spagettae @woncheecks @i814hue @dimplewonie @wonioml @jwnghyuns @cherryblossomsoobin @beomsitez @beomzgyu @isabelleonabicycle @eggeutarteuu @rikismiel @tae-ology @beeomgui @lqbeorecs @desiree62 @run2seob @amara-mars @run2min @breakmyheartlater

#tomorrow x together #txt #txt x reader #txt smau #beomgyu smau #choi beomgyu smau #tomorrow x together smau #beomgyu angst #beomgyu fluff #choi beomgyu angst #choi beomgyu fluff #txt angst #txt fluff

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ginnsbaker · 1 month

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (3/?)

Part summary: Leigh develops an unhealthy habit as she hits closer to rock bottom

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.370 | Warnings/Tags: Some hetero stuff | A/N: Things will pick up after this part. I think there's going to be a total of 6 parts, but let me confirm that in the next update :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Next

Leigh is ten minutes late.

It makes sense. Her willingness to attend this meeting was surprising, because if you were in her shoes, you doubt you'd have agreed to it. Listening to the entire history of a relationship can be exhausting, and it's hard to imagine what it feels like to hear about one that arguably should never have existed.

But just as you're about to think she's bailed or intentionally left you hanging, you spot her sprinting toward the cafe from across the street. She's a mess—hair soaked and sticking everywhere, face bare, missing its usual touch of makeup. But even like this, Leigh doesn't look much different from her usual self. You can't help feeling a bit envious of that.

She rushes into the cafe, attracting a few curious looks, but she barely registers them, her wide green eyes quickly finding you.

“Sorry I'm late,” she pants, struggling to catch her breath, “I got caught in the rain and then missed my bus.” The lie slips out effortlessly. True, it had rained, but the real reason was far more personal—something you didn't need to know.

You shrug off her apology with a smile, signaling the waiter for a menu for Leigh. “No worries, I'm just glad you made it,” you say.

Leigh gives you a quick once-over, then forces a smile and thanks you. Once her coffee order's in, she gets right down to it. “So, Matt,” she starts, her voice dropping to a whisper, “how did you two meet?”

You lean back, carefully thinking about what to say next. You didn't practice your answers ahead of time because you weren't planning to lie about anything. But you're wary of how you word things, not wanting to upset her. Being caught up with a married man is embarrassing enough as it is, and having to relay the details to his widowed wife only adds to it.

“Actually, our first meeting was totally by chance,” you say, bringing your steaming cup of tea to your lips. “I quite literally bumped into Matt one day. It was so brief, I barely gave it a second thought.”

You take a deep breath before continuing, “Then, about a week later, Matt showed up at my clinic with the same friend from before. It turned out, they were there for his friend's dog, who needed a check-up. Matt was just tagging along, helping out.”

Leigh’s face remains passive, making it hard to read.

“The friend was the one who interacted with me the most that day. He even asked for my number, saying they were grateful for the help with the dog. I assumed he was interested,” you say, the memory coming back to you clearer now as you speak. “But, to my surprise, it was Matt who texted me later, not his friend.”

You barely manage to suppress the slight twitch of your lips, recalling how everything once seemed magical to you. Leigh on the other hand, takes a slow sip of her coffee, buying a moment to process.

“Who was that friend of Matt's? Do you remember his name?” she asks.

You pause, racking your brain for the detail, feeling its importance to Leigh. “Yeah, I think his name was Nick or something,” you say, scratching your head. Whether the name ‘Nick’ rings any bells for her or not, she doesn't let on.

“Strange,” you mumble under your breath, but then shrug it off. “It doesn't really matter, he's not the one I—” You stop yourself just in time, realizing you're about to say something potentially hurtful about a situation that still feels raw, especially to Leigh.

Instead, you quickly pivot. “Anyway, that's how it all started. On the day of the dog’s follow-up, it was just Matt who came by. We struck up a friendship from there, and one thing led to another until he, uhm, asked me out for dinner.”

At this, you notice a subtle change in Leigh's demeanor. Her entire frame becomes more timid, the first real sign of emotion she's shown since this conversation began.

You’re about to go on with your story when Leigh suddenly speaks up.

“So, you just said yes, even though he was your client? Don't veterinarians have professional boundaries?”

Ever since meeting Leigh, you've found it challenging to predict what might trigger her reactions—it's like navigating a minefield. Occasionally, you’d find yourself wondering what it would be like to know her without the complications currently defining your interactions. You think about the roles you both involuntarily play in each other's lives, roles neither of you auditioned for but somehow ended up performing.

You feel a lump form in your throat, and your gaze drops to your lap. “Well, he was persistent,” you say, feeling the need to defend your decision. Nevertheless, it sounds weak to your own ears. “But I made it clear nothing could happen until the dog's treatment was complete. And I insisted he'd have to find a different vet for any future appointments. It was... complicated.”

“I bet,” Leigh scoffs, crossing her arms. After a beat, she asks, almost too casually, “So, how quickly did you two... you know, have your first kiss?”

The question hangs awkwardly between you. You know you can’t answer it in any way you could avoid her judgment, so you just decide to spit it out.

“First date.” Under Leigh’s scrutinizing gaze, it feels like admitting to a minor crime.

Leigh stares at you with unblinking eyes. “And how long after meeting him did this first date happen?”

You draw in a slow breath. “Three weeks,” you mutter. “It was last fall.” You add that bit, proactively laying out the timeline as if it could somehow soften the blow or make the situation less complicated. Leigh, however, looks like you've just knocked the wind out of her. She looks away, her expression shifting into something like shock or deep pain. Alarm bells ring in your head at the picture before you.

“Hey, did I say something wrong?” you say in a rush. “I mean, this whole situation is messed up, but if I—”

Leigh’s eyes are glass as they return to you. When she speaks again, her voice is so soft you almost have to lean in to hear. “Last fall... That's when I told Matt we should start trying for a baby.”

The words drain the color from your face. And suddenly, all the pieces of your story with Matt feels even more tainted.

You're not sure what your face gives away when you hear this news, but Leigh's expression quickly shifts from tearful to furious. “Stop feeling sorry for me,” she hisses. “I don’t need your pity.”

Leigh's tears start to spill over, and it's only 7:30 in the morning. It feels way too early for tears, especially here, in the middle of a coffee shop where the day is just beginning for most. You try to shrink into your seat, wishing you could make both of you invisible as the few other patrons start throwing curious, if not outright concerned, looks your way.

You never realized a simple conversation could cause someone so much pain. You thought providing Leigh with answers would help, but it looks like you're just making things even harder for her. Maybe keeping your distance from her is the kindest thing you can do.

“You know the worst part?” Leigh brushes away the tears that keep streaking down her face.

Clearly, she isn't looking for an answer, so you stay silent.

She makes sure she catches your eye before saying, “He agreed, and we started trying.”

Leigh catches her breath after wrapping up her class at the Beautiful Beast.

She took a day off yesterday, immediately after talking with you, spending the whole day in bed just trying to sort out her thoughts and feelings. Surprisingly, wasting away for a whole day seemed to help, and her concerns gradually drifted back to her fight with Jules. It’s been days, and Leigh feels the urgency of reconciliation pressing on her. By this point, they should be on speaking terms again. By now, Jules should have let go of her anger, right? Leigh knows she can't afford to have her sister hating her. At least not right now. She needs her family, or what’s left of it—on her side.

“Hey, Jules, got a sec? About the schedule…” Leigh tries, hoping work might be a safe enough topic to get her sister to acknowledge her existence once again.

Jules barely glances her way. Her hands keep moving, adjusting a strap here, aligning yoga mats there, as if the very act could shield her from having to engage. “Sorted. Check your email,” she replies, her voice cold and detached.

Leigh nods, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. “Great, great... um, did you consider adding that beginners' workshop we talked about?”

Jules stops for a beat, and Leigh thinks, maybe she's going to drop it. But no, Jules resumes fussing over items that hardly require any attention. Then, without even looking up, she says, “Yeah, it's on the list. Anything else?”

Leigh tries to keep her cool, wishing Jules would just cut to the chase and tell her what needs to be done for all to be forgiven.

Trying a different tactic, Leigh goes, “Hey, found a Starbucks card in my bag. How 'bout I grab us some coffee? My treat.”

Leigh’s trying. She really is. Why can’t they see that?

Jules just gives her that look, the kind that doesn't need words, and heads back to her desk. And there's Leigh, offer of a beverage truce just floating in the air, going nowhere.

Getting ignored really gets under Leigh's skin. Back in the day, Matt's habit of brushing her off would drive her to the edge. She'd respond with over-the-top demands or twist things around just to make sure he’d always pay attention to her. She didn't start off wanting to be that person, but looking back, she sees the lengths she'd go to just to keep his attention from straying.

Unable to control herself, she heads straight for Jules, grabs her arm despite her trying to wiggle free, and yanks her into the backroom.

“What the hell is your problem?!” Jules explodes, not caring if anyone’s heard her outside.

They're both standing there, kind of shocked by how heated things got so fast. Jules’ shout might've turned a few heads outside, but right now, that's the least of Leigh's worries.

“How many times do I need to apologize, for you to get over this?”

Jules’ eyes are wide in disbelief, her mouth twisting into a sardonic smile, like she can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, Leigh! This is exactly why I’m not talking to you,” Jules hisses, but keeps her voice down this time.

“What—”

“Do you even know what you’re sorry for?”

Leigh's initial scoff dies in her throat as she watches Jules' expression twist with hurt. “Yeah, okay, I said sorry about the crap I pulled the other day. I know I was out of line, talking about your past like that—”

Jules doesn't let her finish. “You weren't just being ‘out of line’, Leigh. You threw the worst time of my life in my face! Do you have any idea how hurtful that is? Coming from my own sister? From my own family? What, just to win an argument? To cover up for acting like a jerk at the club?”

Leigh goes quiet, but her face hardens, trying not to show how much Jules' words hit her right in the gut. What she said, laid out like that, it sounds…well, unforgivable.

“I'm trying, okay?” Leigh blurts out without thinking.

“Shouldn't be that hard to just be a decent human being, should it?” Jules shoots back, her dismissal sharp as she exits the cramped space, leaving Leigh reeling.

Under her breath, almost like she's talking to the walls, Leigh mumbles, “I'm really sorry…” It's quiet, almost lost in the room, but she means it the most at this very moment, even if no one's around to catch it.

Leigh clocks out from work, her day's fatigue hanging off her shoulders like a weighty cloak. Instead of heading straight home, she veers off her usual path, her feet bringing her to places that made breathing difficult the first few weeks after Matt's death. She's walking the same old route she always did when he was still around, back to when her home address was different and she'd pick up takeout from his favorite places along the way.

There’s the park first, the one where she and Matt spent countless afternoons sprawled on the grass, lying side by side as they watched the sky blush into shades of orange at sunset. She allows herself only a fleeting glance at the familiar paths and the bench they claimed theirs, feeling the same regret, the same hollowness as she remembers the good times they had there.

In the back of her mind, she can't shake off the worry that maybe you've been here too, making your own memories with him. She doesn’t feel the surge of anger at this thought however. Instead, a part of her is almost willing to share these sacred memories if it means holding onto him in any form. She wants to believe that her jealousy has faded into a quieter acceptance that others might also carry pieces of him, pieces she's learning to live with.

Pulling herself away from the park, Leigh's walk inevitably leads her past Matt's favorite Italian restaurant—a quaint, cozy place where they celebrated most of their birthdays and, on occasion, anniversaries, especially when neither felt like cooking (which became an increasingly common choice in the months leading up to his accident).

She remembers how Matt's face would light up at the prospect of their rich, creamy carbonara and the tiramisu he claimed was unrivaled in the city. She recalls the numerous times she attempted to recreate the restaurant's tiramisu at home, aiming to surprise Matt at least once a month. Despite her efforts, if she truly wanted to indulge him, she knew there was no substitute for the real thing. So, on special days, or whenever she felt an extra burst of affection, she'd stop by the restaurant on her way home, picking up takeout.

A waitress from the restaurant notices Leigh's lingering gaze and asks if she'd like a table. With a shy smile, Leigh declines, then pauses before finally deciding to order a tiramisu to go.

When she returns to her mom's house and eats the tiramisu alone, it tastes different.

Leigh can't decide if the difference in the tiramisu's taste is good or bad, but that doesn't stop her. She finishes the entire slice in minutes. But instead of feeling full, it makes her feel emptier. Perhaps, it’s not the flavor that's changed; it's the experience of eating it without Matt's enthusiastic commentary, without him lighting up at the first bite or playfully claiming the last one, despite his generous offer to let her have it.

Suddenly, tears just start pouring out of Leigh as she sits there with an empty plate. She didn't see it coming, no chance to stop it or shove it down. Then, she finds herself laughing—a deep, throaty laugh—because she's grieved for him in countless ways, but this, crying over a dessert, has to be the most absurd. It's exactly the kind of moment they would have laughed at together.

Deciding that that would be her dinner, Leigh cleans up the small mess she's made and considers the evening ahead. But just as she’s about to sink into the couch for a quiet night, her phone buzzes, making her jump.

Seeing your name flash on her screen, she sighs, sensing a familiar bitterness creeping back in, disrupting the soothing moments she had just spent reminiscing about Matt. She lets it ring a few times more before picking up.

“Hi, Y/N,” Leigh says, managing to keep her voice steady over the phone.

“Hey,” you start, unsure how to break the ice after everything. Especially with what you’re about to say next.

“Listen, something happened today at the clinic. Someone came in looking for their lost French Bulldog, and they had a picture,” you pause to breathe. “Leigh, it looks a lot like Visitor.”

On the other end of the line, you can practically hear Leigh's heart skip a beat.

“Hello?” you ask, checking to make sure she's still there after she doesn't respond for several seconds.

“Are you sure?” Leigh’s voice cracks slightly.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure,” you say softly, feeling a surge of empathy. “I'm sending you the picture now. Check it out and tell me what you think.”

You hit send and then wait for Leigh’s confirmation.

“It's him. It's definitely Visitor,” she says a moment later.

You're relieved but also concerned about what comes next. “So, what are you going to do?”

Leigh hesitates, and when she speaks again, she doesn’t give a direct answer. “Thank you, Y/N,” she says, and you pick up something in her tone. Something somber.

“Everything alright?”

But the line's already dead, leaving you staring at your phone, wondering what she is up to.

Leigh stands outside the community center, her hand lingering on the door longer than usual. It's been weeks since she last came to a session. First, there was the shock of uncovering Matt's darkest secret, and now, there's the issue of the man inside, already looking her way, waiting to see her next move.

Danny appearing at her doorstep earlier in the week caught her completely off guard—and not in a good way. The moment she realized it was him, Leigh didn't hesitate to close the door in his face. After she shut him out, it escalated to the point where she threatened to call the police because he wouldn't stop pounding on the door and shouting for Leigh to let him in, insisting he just wanted to talk. His last attempt to get through to her fell flat when he flooded her inbox with texts and missed calls, pushing Leigh to the point where she blocked his number for good.

Despite the problem of Danny being here tonight, Leigh isn't willing to walk away from this just because of him. She's already given up so much lately, most recently Visitor—or Chico, as she found out his real name was—and his absence carved a fresh ache in her heart that she hadn't seen coming.

So, she takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, ignoring the smirk on Danny’s face as she proceeds to pretend like he doesn’t exist.

Somehow, after the meeting, Leigh ends up saying yes to a quick chat with Danny. He reels her in with the news that he submitted Matt’s remaining works—which he got custody of—to his publisher, and they were keen to publish them posthumously.

Leigh can't help but throw in a bit of shade. “That's nice of you, doing something good for your brother, even if it's a bit late.”

Danny's face drops a little. Her words were sharp enough to hurt him, but he doesn't bite back or get in her face about it, which totally throws Leigh for a loop. After all the time she'd spent ignoring him, she had expected him to be at his worst around her.

And then he surprises her even more when he says, “Let me give you a ride home? It's the least I can do…”

Leigh arches an eyebrow. She didn’t bring the car tonight because Jules had a thing with Tommy, and she didn’t want to give her sister another reason to resent her. A ride from Danny beats the alternatives of walking or shelling out for a pricey cab, especially now that her phone's battery has given out, nixing the option of booking an Uber.

But this is Danny. Matt’s brother, and the guy she hooked up with because she thought she’d get back some semblance of her dead husband. After Jules pointed out how messed up it was that they'd slept together, Leigh's been all over the place. The rules around what they were doing either turned her off or, weirdly enough, made the whole thing more enticing, taboo and all. That's a big part of why she's been steering clear of him. Hanging out with Danny feels like reaching for a cigarette long after she's sworn off smoking.

Even with all that swirling in her head, Leigh ends up saying, “Sure, why not?”

Before she knows it, she's also agreeing to a drink at his place.

The second they step into his apartment, something inside of Leigh snaps. Acting on impulse, she grabs Danny by the collar and kisses him fiercely. She clenches his shirt in her hands, practically tearing it in her grip. Danny's initial surprise melts away in seconds, and then he’s kissing her just as hard, his tongue prying open her lips, taking control of the kiss right away. His hands find her waits, pulling her closer, practically already half-lifting her against the wall.

Leigh, caught up in the moment, begins to move her hips in a rocking motion against him. The action is effective enough to distract him from where he’s kissing every inch of Leigh’s neck, and he retaliates by suddenly pressing her more firmly against the wall, pinning her with his hips, their chests are tightly pressed together.

But as Leigh's fingers begin to fumble with the button of Danny's pants, he catches her hands gently and, panting, says, “Wait, Leigh, hold on for just a sec.”

Leigh’s eyes fly open at his voice, irritation and impatience coloring them. “What?” she gasps out.

He ignores the hard edges of her tone. He wants more—something real—and he's hoping she does too.

“I can’t do this again unless I know it’s going somewhere,” Danny says. He gently lets go of Leigh and takes a step back, trying to collect himself. It's a tough task, though, with Leigh looking the way she does—hair all tousled, lips slightly swollen and marked from when he got a bit carried away, her cheeks tinged with a warm flush. He could’ve made her come in the next two minutes, he’s sure of it.

At Danny's confession, Leigh can't help it; she bursts into laughter. The idea of him catching feelings now, of all times, seems absurd to her. As she laughs, Danny's jaw tightens, but he waits patiently for her to finish.

When Leigh finally notices the seriousness etched across Danny's face, her amusement evaporates almost instantly. The realization that he's not joking strikes her, and it doesn't sit well. Not one bit.

“What, you think because your brother's gone, you get to... what? Step in? Take his place?” she spits out, incredulous. “This is never going to be anything more than a quick fuck, Danny.”

In his desperation, he calls her bluff. “You’re lying.”

Leigh's reaction morphs into a cruel sneer. “If you're going to insist on something more, then we're just wasting our time,” she mutters, turning to leave.

Danny's not ready to let her walk away, not yet. He grabs her arm, and for a second, they're just staring each other down, a silent battle raging between them. Leigh’s resolve is impenetrable.

It’s Danny who cracks first, exhaling a defeated, “Fine.”

But Leigh's not having any half-measures. She whirls around, fire in her eyes. “Nope. Say it properly,” she demands.

With a sigh that feels like he's giving away a part of himself, Danny looks at her, worn and resigned. “This doesn't have to mean anything,” he says even if it’s the last thing he wants.

Leigh locks eyes with him, a storm brewing in her look. Just when Danny thinks it's better to just drop it, she throws him a question out of nowhere.

“Did you know?”

“Know what?” Danny asks, genuinely puzzled.

“About Matt and me... trying for a baby when he... you know.”

“He... he never mentioned anything like that,” he says, feeling the pain she’s radiating. Leigh looks like she’s about to fall apart and all he wants is to be the one to gather her pieces and put them all back together.

No more words follow from Leigh. It's as if the question drained what was left of the conversation. Without warning, she surges forward, her lips meeting Danny’s in a bruising kiss, then she grabs Danny's hands, placing them firmly back on her waist. He gets the message loud and clear, and together they quickly shed their clothes, letting them fall in a heap around their feet. She comes about twelve minutes and thirty seconds later.

It's been eight days—not that you're keeping track or anything. But after giving Leigh the heads-up that someone’s been looking for a dog that looks exactly like Visitor, you were kind of expecting she’d at least update you if it really was him or not.

So, when a client strolls in later with Visitor, who's actually called Chico according to the file your secretary slips you, you're a little disappointed it's not Leigh showing up instead. It must have been incredibly tough for her to return Chico to his real family. She invested her heart, time, and not to mention her wallet, into that dog, caring for him as if he were her own.

Thinking she’d be relieved to know he’s in good hands, you send her a text to update her about Chico's visit to the clinic today. You mention how healthy and content he seems, yet you hazard a guess that he's probably missing Leigh too.

She sees your message right away, and then leaves you on read.

Her thing with Danny turns into a late-night ritual, particularly after Drew fails to respond to her following their conversation, not even offering her a guest column in the weeks that followed their talk. Drew continues to invite her for coffee and dinner dates along with his fiancée, but he avoids the topic about the column, so Leigh stops asking.

The hookups are always a post-midnight impulse. She’d find herself sneaking out of her mother's house to meet him, driven by a mix of need and escape, or occasionally, by insomnia. After their moments together, she never lingers in Danny's bed for too long once she's found her satisfaction, eager to shower away his scent from her skin.

Back at home, she ensures there's no trace of their deed by the time she slips into bed, allowing herself to sleep deep into the middle of the day. This pattern of nocturnal activity and daytime slumber has led her mother to adjust Leigh's responsibilities, moving her to take charge of the afternoon classes instead. This behavior earns her suspicious glances from Jules, but Leigh chooses to ignore them—if Jules isn't interested in reconciling, then she has no right to concern herself with Leigh's personal affairs.

Leigh doesn’t know how she got here, back at the beginning, in an ever messier situation. She can't stop fucking Danny, her emotions for Matt are a rollercoaster—she finds herself forgiving him and cursing him interchangeably a couple of times a day.

She's astounded this is her life now, seemingly unable to talk herself out of decisions that pull her deeper into chaos.

A month later, Leigh becomes a distant memory. Following a series of tumultuous encounters, your life gradually returns to its normal rhythm—quiet, ordinary days filled with clinic work, attending to various cases, meeting new clients, and addressing the myriad issues of small animals. All of these tasks prove easier to deal with than anything involving Leigh Shaw.

The sole noteworthy event in your generally uneventful life lately was your latest visit to a physician for an annual physical exam. The blood tests revealed some numbers outside the normal range, notably elevated cholesterol levels. Consequently, your doctor advised you to integrate exercise into your daily regimen and to reduce your consumption of takeout meals, specifically pizza and Chinese fast food.

It’s a big sacrifice, considering your day usually flies by without much thought for food, except for dinner. It’s the one time in your day you actually look forward to. So, to hold onto that bit of happiness, you've been looking at fitness classes that are actually enjoyable and help burn those extra calories to keep you in shape.

Yoga stands out as the top choice for you, mainly because it all unfolds on a mat. You assume it'll demand the least amount of effort compared to the other options (specifically spinning), which all seem to promise nothing but pain and suffering.

Deciding to give yoga a shot, you choose Beautiful Beast, swayed by its stellar reviews. You secure a slot for a 6pm class, feeling pretty good about this decision.

That is, until Leigh Shaw walks into the said class, clad in a sports bra and tight-fitting leggings that highlight her toned legs. She’s busy on her phone, and without looking up, she walks to the front of the room.

What are the chances you'd both be in the same class at the same fitness studio? The plot thickens when she pockets her phone and turns to face the class, gesturing for everyone to get their mats ready as the session's about to start.

You swallow hard. Leigh isn't here as a joiner—she's running it.

It takes about a quarter of the session for Leigh to notice you’re in her class. It's only while she's making her rounds, observing each student's camel pose, that her gaze finally lands on you. Struggling through your lack of core strength, you can't quite catch her initial reaction, but then she calls out your name. The surprise makes you gasp as she places her hand on the curve of your spine, just above the small of your back, and gently pushes you upward, deepening your arch.

The stretch draws a grimace from you, but then she says, “Good, that's it,” and suddenly, you're determined not to let her down. You focus on the pose, on Leigh's instructions, and on not falling apart under her watchful eye. Leigh keeps everyone in the position a few moments longer than expected before instructing the class to transition into the child's pose for recovery. At her cue, your arms collapse, and you find yourself breathing heavily, grateful for the brief respite.

Something tells you it's not the high cholesterol that's going to be the end of you, but rather this yoga class and Leigh's merciless teaching style.

You're all packed up and ready to leave, still reeling from what could easily be the toughest hour of your life, when someone calls out to you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

It's Leigh. Her tone is softer, more fatigued than you remember. She’s still in her gym clothes, looking like the workout barely touched her except for a few strands of hair sticking to her forehead. And somehow, she smells more like a rose garden than the gym floor.

“I didn’t know you work here—” you blurt out, almost apologizing. But before you can add anything else, Leigh just shakes her head, something like amusement in her smile, stopping you mid-sentence. Her smile, warm and a little teasing, eases some of the tension you didn't realize you were holding.

“Are you a mind reader or something?” she teases. “Cause yeah, I was going to ask if you were following me.”

You’re quick to deny it. “I wasn’t.”

Leigh lets out a chuckle like she's getting a kick out of seeing you on edge. You shuffle your feet, still unsure if she’s trying to scare you off or welcome you to her tutelage.

“Look, if it's weird for you, me being here... I can find another class,” you offer, the words tumbling out before you can think them through.

Her reaction is swift and a bit surprising, “Why would I want that? So you can duck out and be a rubbish yogi elsewhere and ruin my reputation?”

You’re taken aback by her response. Clearly, Leigh's not pushing you away; it's almost as if she's egging you on, daring you to stick it out. And if there's any hope of moving past this... whatever it is, leaving now because it might get awkward doesn't seem like the right move to make a fresh start.

“All right, I'll stay,” you find yourself saying, more to your surprise than hers.

Leigh's got this look of triumph, chin lifted just so, when you agree to stick around. “See you at 5:30. Greenway Park,” she throws out casually.

You're there blinking, trying to piece together what she means. But before you can even get a word out, she's one step ahead.

“We have to work on your endurance,” she clarifies. “Make sure you’re wearing real running shoes. No sneakers.”

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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lunarmoves · 1 month

Text

there was a new security guard working in the daycare.

you’d been wondering when the higher ups at fazbear entertainment would green light the hiring process for one, and apparently it was sooner than you’d thought. you weren’t a particularly important employee, so it made sense why you wouldn’t have been told, but it was still surprising nonetheless. you didn’t remember the last time the security desk in the daycare had been occupied by someone other than yourself when you were taking your lunch break. granted, you hadn’t been working at the pizzaplex for too long, but you’d seen the records, and the strange disappearance of the last guard was something you were never able to dredge up too much information about.

you met him on one of your lunch breaks actually, while you were contemplating which fast food restaurant to use your free meal on. you think he started up a conversation because you were likely one of the only human staff members he’d seen since getting hired. not that you could blame him, of course. lord knows the last time you'd spoken to someone not made of metal and wires.

“so many options to pick from, eh?” a voice said from your left and you turned to see the new guard standing there with his hands tucked into his pockets. the cap that came with his uniform was nestled atop his head of curly hair and cast his face in shadow from the neon lights overhead. you could just barely make out the glint of his black eyes. “this place really doesn't disappoint.”

you snorted at his words. fazco was many things, but a disappointment wasn't one of them. "you're telling me. the prices on the other hand..." you made a face and he laughed before sticking out his hand.

"name's vincent," he introduced himself with a bright, charming smile. "'m the new daycare guard." the badge pinned to the left side of his chest was decorated with little stars and winked brightly at you in the lighting.

you grabbed his hand with your own for a firm handshake and introduced yourself as well. "i do repairs around the pizzaplex and the like. places the bots can't get to, occasionally minor repairs on the animatronics themselves." the ones that didn't warrant an entire trip down to parts 'n services, at least.

"nice, i bet you're never out of work, huh?" you shook your head with a lopsided smile. vincent opened his mouth as though to say something else, then seemed to pause and instead looked around the food atrium. "anyways, you got any recommendations? i got an hour for a lunch break and i'm starving."

vincent proved to be excellent company as he joined you for your lunch break. you didn't mind, honestly. it was refreshing to be able to talk to another human—someone whom you didn't have to strain your neck to look up to or whom you could connect to on a level you couldn't with robots and automatons. he was hilarious and charming, with a plethora of stories he regaled you with of his life before he was hired at the pizzaplex. and before you knew it, your time for your lunch break was up and you were saying your goodbyes to vincent as you both made your way back to your respective jobs. your heart felt lighter in a way it hadn't been in a long time.

the process repeated.

vincent joined you for your lunch breaks whenever he managed to catch you in the atrium. it wasn't too often, as your schedule was rather erratic, but he could take his lunch break whenever he wanted. so you eventually just swapped numbers so you could text and meet up instead of basing it off of chance. and your friendship skyrocketed from there with the endless memes you'd send to each other both on shift and off—the late night conversations you'd have about things that varied from miscellaneous to more serious (fazco's history being one of them). it felt inevitable, getting closer.

you had such a good time with him that you didn't even realize how long it'd been since you'd last stepped foot in the daycare.

that is—until you got called in for a repair on the daycare attendant.

the email had been sent straight to your phone. an emergency repair, by the sound of it. you hadn't ever had to do one on sun nor moon. usually it was monty or chica. concern tainted your conscience as you made your way over to the daycare and slipped through the giant castle doors.

immediately, you were spotted by vincent, who waved and jogged over from the far side of the security desk. "hey! that was fast."

"yeah, i was close by," you puffed out, your eyes searching around the daycare for sun. it was later in the evening—nearing closing, in fact—so there luckily weren't many kids around. only a handful, you noted as you spotted them sitting around the playmats, coloring or playing with little hand puppets together. your gaze trailed over to a corner by the security desk, where sun was perched atop one of the large foam blocks with his legs crossed. swaying slightly in place as he kept an eye on the kids in the distance. well, at least he looked fine from here. couldn't be all too bad, then, you thought in relief.

"what happened?" you asked vincent as you made your way towards sun, your hand gripping onto a toolbox you'd snagged earlier from parts 'n services.

"i don't know," he replied in earnest, a frown decorating his face. "i went for a bathroom break and when i got back he wa—"

before he could finish, however, you were spotted by sun, who shot straight up from the foam block and beamed with all the light of a thousand stars at your approaching figure.

"friend!!" he exclaimed and closed the short distance between the two of you to sweep you up in a bone-crushing hug. you let out a surprised laugh, holding onto him for dear life as his torso spun around and around and around in tandem with his rays. "you're here! oh we missed you so so so much!"

"hey bud, missed you too," you wheezed and patted him on the back. his robotic strength was unyielding and you did your best to endure. he nuzzled at the side of your face and eventually set you down. a hand was placed on your shoulder, fingers running adoringly over your uniform.

"dropped this," vincent's voice piped up from behind you and those fingers abruptly tightened. you glanced over your shoulder and turned to accept the toolbox from him as he held it out to you. his gaze flicked from you to sun, subtle. you hadn't even noticed you'd dropped it.

"thanks, man." you offered him a smile and grabbed onto the box's handle. "what were you sa—"

"mr. guard!" sun smoothly cut in, stepping in front of you to lean down over vincent. you couldn't see over the terse line of his back, so you poked your head around him to look at vincent and the dark shadow that'd been cast over his form. "please keep an eye on the children in the meantime. it looks like little jeremy's about to stick a crayon up his nose and we can't have that, nonono!"

vincent's frown deepened. he cast you a final look before he nodded shortly. you almost thought he was going to argue. "alright." and then he turned on his heel to make his way over to the kids. you watched him carefully—the rigid line of his shoulders—then jolted slightly when sun spun back around to face you with a bright grin.

you spoke up before he could. "what was that all about?"

"what was what all about?" he asked innocently, his hands clasped behind his back as he swayed side to side, further blocking your view of vincent. you gave him a look.

"you know exactly what i'm talking about," you said flatly and gestured at him to take a seat back on the foam block. he complied with a flourish, spinning on his feet to plop upon it. even sitting he wasn't much shorter than you.

he bobbed his head side to side as though he was contemplating. you set down your toolbox next to him and placed your hands on your waist, raising an eyebrow expectantly at him. he wavered, then let out an exaggerated sigh.

"it's just— the guards!" he tossed his head back dramatically, then leaned forward to stage whisper at you. "we never liked them, you know. and this one is..." he trailed off, eyes squinting as his smile thinned like the edge of a blade.

you rolled your eyes. you did, in fact, know of their distaste for the guards. it was why the daycare had gone so long without one. you couldn't really blame sun, you supposed. after all, they had been on their own for a long time and were more than capable. you weren't entirely sure what fazco was doing. maybe a parent complained.

"vincent's not too bad," you said and lowered your hands from your waist. sun tilted his head at you, gaze trained on your face. you clicked your tongue. "anyways, where's the injury? show me."

"riiiight here!" he brandished his hand at you—the one that you soon realized he'd been carefully keeping out of your sight all this time.

and for good reason, too. your jaw dropped at the way his hand hung off his wrist, held together by a few measly wires. "sun, what happened?!" you gasped as you jolted towards him and gingerly took hold of his hand. wires had snapped ruthlessly apart, splintered and shredded.

"oh, you know!" he waved his free hand, gaze still pinned onto you as you turned his hand this way and that, a crease forming between your brows. "just had a little oopsie, is all! doesn't hurt a bit!" and he spun his rays as though to show how unbothered he was.

you immediately let go of his hand and started fumbling for your toolbox to pull out supplies. you'd honestly prefer to have him get repaired down in parts 'n services for this, but knowing his adverseness to the place, there was no way you'd be able to.

"a little oopsie?" you asked incredulously. "this is a bit more than an oopsie, bud."

"ah, it's nothing our beloved repair tech can't fix!" he replied sweetly, gazing at you in a way that made something in your stomach flutter about. you grumbled and got to work, resolutely ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.

as you diligently worked on cutting and splicing the remaining wires together after turning off the electricity being routed to his hand, sun hummed happily to himself. "so!" he piped up after a moment of you concentrating heavily on his injury. "where have you been all this time, hm?"

you shrugged slightly, eyes firmly fixed to two wires you were splicing. the way they had torn was a bit... strange. like they'd been ripped or stretched apart until they tore. "been busy running around doing repairs, the usual."

"repairs, huh?" he mused, something to his voice that you couldn't quite decipher. "surely you are not working even during your lunch break? it is important to get your rest, friend!"

"i'm not, don't worry," you soothed, glancing up at him. "i've just been eating in the atrium lately. no biggie. sorry i haven't been by, i guess it... slipped my mind." you winced slightly at your words. truly, it had not occurred to you with how your breaks had been filled with hanging with vincent.

this close, you could see the offset white of his ringed pupils, roving over your body and drinking you in like he was a man starved. "i see. you would not happen to be spending it with ah, the guard over there, would you?"

you scrunched your nose at him. "why does it matter if i was?"

"no reason!" he grinned, but there was a tautness lining the edges of his smile that you did not quite like. his gaze flicked briefly over your shoulder, then back to you where his eyes upturned into crescents. "we're just happy to see you again! do make time for us too, yes?" his voice softened and lowered to a murmur. "the daycare isn't the same when you're not here with us."

now that just made you feel guilty. you swallowed it down as best as you could and gave him a small smile. "sorry," you repeated again gently. "i will."

it didn't take much longer to fix up his hand, and before you knew it, he was bouncing to his feet and flexing it every which way to show off its replenished dexterity. "good as new! thank you, my friend!" he scooped you up into another hug and you laughed, dizzy on his excitement.

"yeah, yeah. no more oopsies from now on, okay?" you chided him with a wagging finger once he'd placed you gently back upon the ground. he fixed your rumpled shirt for you, smoothing it down with large fingers. "i forbid it!"

"no promises!" he replied, booping you on the nose before clasping his hands together behind his back.

you packed up your tools and glanced down at your phone to check the time. almost closing. you should head out soon. you glanced over to vincent to see that most of the children had been checked out while you'd tended to sun. the last one was dozing on a playmat as vincent sat nearby, scrolling idly on his phone.

"alright, i need to go," you told sun as you started walking over to the looming castle doors. he followed you like a particularly lithe shadow. "got an early morning tomorrow."

"get some rest, friend!" he said, but you weren't paying attention to him anymore. vincent had caught your eye and quietly got up from his seat to jog over and meet you by the doors.

"all good?" he asked you once he'd come to a stop by your side, his hands buried in his pockets. you nodded and his gaze flicked to sun over your shoulder. he pointed over to the last kid snoring away. "you wanna look after the tyke now? my shift's over."

sun's eyes creased together as he smiled stiffly. one of his rays twitched. "of course! i will see you... tomorrow."

"yep. bye." succinct and terse, vincent gave sun a two-fingered salute then jerked his head at you before he pushed open the doors and left. you eyed vincent's retreating back first, then sun.

this was so weird. you exhaled through your nose and held onto your toolbox tightly. "...bye sun. see you tomorrow, promise."

"i will hold you to that!" was his merry response, and he waved at you with a grin as you left the daycare. white pupils followed you out, the door closing slowly behind you as something unsaid lingered in the air. you gave the doors a final look, then turned towards vincent, who was waiting for you a few feet away.

you considered bringing up all of... that—and boy was the last hour a lot to unpack—but a quick glance at the bags under vincent's eyes had you dropping it. later, you'll ask later.

you walked over to him. "hey, thanks for calling the repair in," you said as you both made your way up the stairs. "sun hates parts 'n services, it would've been a nightmare calling a mechanic to bring him down."

vincent gave you an odd look, one of his eyebrows raising. "what are you talking about?" he asked slowly, confused. "i didn't call it in. i told you i had been in the bathroom?"

he had said that, hadn't he. "oh." you thought he'd called it once he got back, but you guessed you were wrong. "and you really didn't see what'd happened?"

"nope." he took off his cap and ran his hand through his hair before setting it back on his head. "i don't have a single clue."

you hummed, glancing over your shoulder at the daycare as you both walked past the party rooms on the upper level. through the glass and netting, you could see sun, standing by one of the playpens. watching you and vincent with white eyes that gleamed even through the fluorescent lighting.

you suppressed a shiver and turned away, a burning gaze following you until you disappeared beyond a point where it no longer could.

connected to this drabble!

#sun connecting the dots when a new guard shows up at the daycare and u also stop showing up for ur lunch there: >:0 #sun x reader #fnaf sun x reader #dca x reader #dca x you #dca x self insert #dca x y/n #fnaf dca x reader #sundrop x y/n #sundrop x you #sundrop x reader #yeah thats a self inflicted injury. he cray cray #sun x self insert #sun x y/n #fnaf dca x you #fnaf dca x self insert #shay scribbles daydreams

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