#(which. side note. THAT’S FROM THIS YEAR. SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED) where he’s like fell to my knees in the club THAT WAS ME. THAT WAS ME!!!!

[namism]

deceiver | hange zoë

➳ categories: canonverse, commander hange, female squad leader reader, fluff, yelena loves women (don't ask) ➳ word count: 4.3k

➳ summary: It's normal for soldiers to be happily married, but when it comes to your marriage with Commander Hange Zoë, the entire regiment doesn't believe it.

➳ notes: for reference, this is wim and this is holger. also, i like to imagine that spouse hange simps for you so much that they ended up assigning you as the new squad leader of the fourth squad lmaooo ➳ cross-posted on ao3

"There you are!"

You turn around to see Hange enter the office and shut the door promptly with a loud thud. You flinch upon the sound. Curious as to what you’re up to, the Commander strides toward your station, where rows of microscopic slides sit for preparation.

Standing behind you, Hange rests their chin on your right shoulder and hugs your waist loosely. They watch you place a cover slip on a wet sample.

They hum.

"Just seven minutes ago, your squad was looking for you at the dining hall, which led me to think, 'Hmm… what could my beautiful wife be up to on this fine afternoon?'" You roll your eyes, snickering. "I would have never guessed that she'd be scholarly working at my office when she could've worked at hers."

"Oh, Hange," you say with a shake of your head. "Who am I to pass up on the opportunity of working at a larger space during my free time?"

You pipette a drop of infusion to a new slide.

"I admit it's messier here, but the Commander always has nicer things, and I happen to be married to them."

Hange pinches your cheek before kissing it.

"Ha-ha, cheeky. That's why you’re my wife."

Hange leaves you to your devices and walks around their desk. They pour themselves a glass of water before looking out the window. They watch a pair of new recruits walking in the quadrangle.

Hange smiles to themselves. The sight reminds them of when you first met, back when you couldn't even stand within three feet from them out of embarrassment. Hange was from the graduating class two years above you, and by the time you joined the Scouts, they had already earned their spot in the regiment's chain of command.

"What are you thinking of?" You appear beside them, having left your work on the counter. Hange giggles and points at the two suspecting love birds in the courtyard below. "Ah. From the 107th?"

"Yep! Looks like us, huh?"

You snorted.

"No way. They don't even seem to talk to each other. You, on the other hand"—you elbow Hange gently—"ran your mouth all day long until my ear fell off."

"You loved listening to me talk!" Hange retorts. You look at them, unamused. "Alright, I might have annoyed you at first, but you secretly loved having me around."

"Unfortunately, I did," you say with a sigh. Hange pats your head, laughing to themselves.

Suddenly, a knock sounds on the door. Hange orders them to enter.

"Commander!" A soldier from the 106th Training Corps calls with a salute. “Captain Levi requests to see you.”

Patting your head turns into combing your hair. Hange continues the endearing action as they raise an eyebrow at the soldier.

“About what?”

“About a prospective meeting with General Zackly, sir.”

“I’ll be there in a few.”

The soldier salutes again. Before leaving, he sees the Commander tell you something before kissing you on the lips. When the Commander looks back at the door to see him still standing there, he runs out in a hurry and shuts the door sheepishly.

Scurrying away from the scene, he runs into a friend.

“Hey, Holger,” the soldier greets. He looks at Holger worriedly as if he’s seen a ghost. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah, Wim,” he replies. He looks over his shoulder, gawking at the hallway he just came from, the one leading to the Commander’s office. “I was wondering…”

Wim squints his eyes at Holger’s mumbling. He tilts his head to the side.

“I can’t hear you.”

“I was wondering…” Holger mumbles the other half of the sentence.

“I still can’t hear you.”

Holger steps forward. Wim follows. Leaning closer to his friend, Holger whispers into his ear.

"I was wondering, is the Commander seeing someone? Maybe one of us, the Scouts?"

Wim is taken aback.

"How would I know that?"

"Because!" Holger hisses. He takes a cautious look over his shoulder to make sure that no one else is around before proceeding. "The Commander... They were with the Squad Leader of the Fourth Squad when I entered their office."

"Hmm..." Wim thinks to himself, rubbing his chin. "Why would you suspect a relationship over that?"

"Because the Commander kissed her!"

Wim's eyes widen. He stands there speechless, but he communicates with Holger through his eyes, asking for an affirmative answer to a question he never spoke: "Are you telling the truth?"

Suddenly, you emerge from the end of the hallway, humming a melodic tune as you flip through the yellowing pages of a book. The two soldiers stand there, unmoving. They cannot run to save themselves.

"Why, hello there," you greet with a sweet smile upon passing them. You close the book. "Do you need anything?"

They salute. Holger shakes his head.

"No, Ma'am! We were on our way."

You nod.

"Great! Because trust me, you don't want the Commander finding you dilly-dallying in the hallway of their office." You laugh lightheartedly, but Wim and Holger can't find it in them to laugh along as they fear their superior more than anything. "Anyway, off you go, and have a nice day, you two!"

As you walk along your merry way, the two soldiers look at each other dumbfounded before tending back to their duties.

Locomotives are great Marleyan inventions.

It turns out that locomotory wheels are conical in shape to avoid derailment when the tracks turn at a certain point. Connie remembers Armin mentioning something about centrifugal force, a concept he doesn’t understand enough to engage in intellectual discussion, but something he wants to ponder on to find out if it's worth learning in order to build the tracks from the Walls to the harbor.

The last time he checked, he doesn't really need to account for "centrifugal force" when laying steel on the ground. Connie may not be as intelligent as Armin, but he can understand that far. So really, he doesn't understand the need for Armin to ramble about "centrifugal force" under this scorching heat.

Mikasa hauls ultrahard steel from the cart to the end of the track. As she works on the welding, Armin chases Sasha around who has called dibs on the last pint of water. Connie and Jean curse behind Eren's back for suggesting they work on the railway instead of the new recruits who probably have nothing better to do.

Connie wipes the sweat off his forehead. Catching his breath, he decides to slack off for a few minutes. He watches Jean defeatedly sit on the ground panting, his fedora hat shielding his face from the sun.

Connie snickers. He finds the fedora hat on Jean funny. He looks like a rich snobby civilian from Wall Sheena.

To his left, Mikasa lays the blocks of steel neatly on the railway. Connie notices the scar she got from the Battle of Trost four years ago and the bandaging around her right arm that covers a tattoo of the Azumabito's crest.

Everyone has tiny details of themselves that normally go unnoticed, it seems.

As Connie wonders what his would be, he hears the clopping of hooves from the distance, followed by you, Hange, and Levi on horseback.

Connie helps Jean back up and they form a circle around the new arrivals.

"Ah! Working hard under the sun, I see?" Hange teases the group while Jean complains. You laugh beside them, bringing your left hand to cover your mouth. Connie notices.

"Since when did you guys get so tall?" Levi clicks his tongue, peering up at him with an irked expression. Connie continues to stare.

He doesn't know if he's seeing things correctly. For all he knows, it could be the heat messing with his brain. On your left ring finger, however, sits a metal band with a sparkling stone on its bed. Even as you put your hand down, Connie ponders on this discovery and zones out for the entirety of Hange's chattering.

He only manages to hear they cannot count on Hizuru to negotiate with other nations before staring at your hand like a creep. No one seems to notice his gawking, though, because he gets lost in his thoughts for a solid minute.

The last time he checked, you didn't wear a wedding ring, and you weren't into wearing jewelry at all for the fear of losing them at work. Although Connie isn't your closest friend, he believes he would have never missed out on this very important information about your life, given that you have survived many battles together along with the crew.

"...The world can't see our faces. Why would they ever trust us?" Connie snaps out of his thoughts and watches Hange throw their hands out. "So... let's meet them ourselves. If they don't understand who we are, we just have to teach them."

Meet them ourselves? Connie thinks to himself. We're going outside?

As the others reflect on the idea, Connie thinks of what he would do and should do upon arrival at the Marleyan mainland. He once again zones out, now staring at Hange as he does so.

Wait, what's that?

Closing his eyes, he shakes his head. Beams of sunlight bounce off Hange as they wave their hands around while speaking.

He narrows his eyes. Hange stops moving. They drop their hands to their side.

He sees it.

A metal band fits perfectly on their left ring finger, slightly different from yours in design, but too similar to conclude one thing.

Hange and (Y/N) are married?!

Connie looks into the distance, wide-eyed. He begins to rack his brain for clues, idle instances and memories that could have hinted at your relationship.

He focuses too much on his searching that he doesn't even notice you, Hange, and Levi retreating to the Walls and leaving him and the squad once more.

It must have been the heat yet again when he sees Hange put a discrete hand on your waist as you pass them on horseback.

Ever since the formation of an alliance with Paradis military, Onyankopon has been running around non-stop with Yelena to speak for the Anti-Marleyan volunteers. As expected, he rarely gets a day off without running into trouble, but when he does, he makes sure to enjoy it all by the ocean, where the Marleyan chefs have set up a dine-in food service by the dock.

He's sharing a table with Yelena when he hears a familiar voice fast approaching. His face lights up.

"Hange!" he greets the Commander with his hands up in the air. Hange sits on the chair beside him. "What have you come here for?"

"I ran an errand nearby, so I decided to come." Hange waves at one of the Marleyan chefs and shouts their order. The chef nods silently, his anger for the island devils long gone. "What are you up to?"

"I was thinking of some improvements for the gear you use to move around." Onyankopon hums, thinking if it would be a good idea to bring it up now. "Although that could be a discussion for another day."

"I would love to hear it!" Hange looks at the blonde woman sitting across them. "What about you? I take it that you've explored the island by how much work you've been doing."

"Unfortunately, nobody can beat the Commander in that sport," Yelena replies. Hange laughs bitterly. "I've been doing well, thank you very much. The people at Shiganshina are surprisingly welcoming, but I prefer the ones at Wall Sheena much more."

Yelena sips on the green tea in front of her. Hange stares blankly.

"O-oh! I'm guessing it's the weather or the district architecture?" they assume. Yelena shakes her head.

"While I fancy those things, I believe Wall Sheena has much more interesting… women. Some of them I eye particularly," Yelena remarks. "Has that ever happened to you, Commander?"

"W-well," Hange stutters, unsure of what to say, "no, it hasn't."

"Oh." Yelena smirks, placing her chin on top of her hand as she leans forward, studying Hange. Suddenly, she looks at their left hand intently, making them follow the direction of her stare. "Then what could possibly explain the new band on your finger if it weren't for a charming man who sought after you in the richer districts?"

Hange mentally sighs. They roll their eyes inside their head.

Onyankopon clears his throat.

"I believe I should stay out of this," he says, leaning back on the chair.

"It's alright. This is just small talk," Hange reassures him by giving a joyful response. They look back at Yelena. "Anyway, I find the outer districts more homey than the inner ones, but to each their own. I would have to correct you on two things, though. First of all, I was never sought after. I chase."

Yelena tilts her head to the side, intrigued. It seems very Hange-like to busy themselves chasing after people.

"And the second one?"

As soon as the food arrives, Hange grabs the big glass of water and downs half of it in one go.

"I have never felt interest for a man. Surprising?"

Yelena chuckles.

"Right, I should have detected it that far. No, it isn’t surprising," says the blonde. "I find women endearing as well. I apologize for my assumptions."

"I apologize, too." Onyankopon bows his head in guilt albeit being a spectator. Hange waves their hand to dismiss them.

"That's one lucky woman, I would say. It isn't often that you meet and marry a Commander," Yelena continues. Hange doesn't know how to feel about her persistence, but they've observed Yelena to be very persistent over the past two years. Her nagging is expected. "So? If she doesn't live in the inner Walls and the Commander doesn't have the time to roam civilian grounds... do we know her?"

Hange saw this coming. They knew Yelena would be able to deduce that far.

Instead of a proper response, they shrug.

"No idea, but as perfect as she is, I can tell you that you wouldn't get along well." Hange looks at Yelena's plate, steaming with food. "She would pick at your food if she had your meal, then she would give me the rest."

Hange invites Onyankopon to take the first bite and they begin to dine. Yelena is left laughing at herself.

"You got me, Commander Hange. I'm sure she is beautiful like the ones I'm fond of from your regiment."

"Of course she is."

As Onyankopon shifts the subject into something else, Yelena eats her food piecemeal, thinking of the mysterious identity of the Commander's wife. You must be a soldier yourself, but Yelena hasn't noticed anything out of the ordinary from the many people Hange surrounds themselves with. Yelena can usually tell when people are together thanks to her keen eye. It should be generally easier to find out who you are since there isn't a lot of women Hange is associated with, but her radar is still deeply challenged.

She shrugs. She'll figure it out in time.

Months later, the new gear comes in.

You open your trunk. As expected, the gear is similar to that of the Anti-Personnel Control Squad's. The main components of the vertical maneuvering gear are still there, save for the blade compartment replaced by single-use cartridges and pistols. The gas cylinder is wider than the ones from the previous gear, now attached to two axles strapped to the back harness.

You look to your right. Mikasa's equipment is missing the set of firearms in favor of blades. She stares at her trunk.

"We need you at the forefront in attacking the intelligent Titans," Levi speaks behind her. "No use in giving you stupid pistols. You can kill humans even with blades."

Mikasa nods. You look at your gear once more. No blades, just pistols.

"I'm guessing this makes me in charge of the human killing?"

Levi thinks to himself.

"Not quite."

You knit your eyebrows.

"Hange has other plans for you. Ask them."

Later that day, the Scouts are ordered to try on their gear and practice zipping around the Forest of Giant Trees to get accustomed to them. You and your squad watch as Mikasa flies around, flawlessly carrying four Thunder Spears on each arm.

A hand rests on your shoulder. You look behind you to find Hange in the new gear and the complementary black suit, their oval glasses replaced by goggles. You nod to your squad and they disperse promptly, leaving you and Hange alone.

"Looks like you've done it again, Commander. At long last, there are no major issues with the gear."

They sneer.

"It wouldn't be possible without the Anti-Marleyan volunteers. I owe half of it to them." They examine you in your uniform, eyes scanning your entire body like they haven't just done so a couple of minutes ago. "That sure suits you. Have you gone around?"

"No, actually," you tell them after muttering a shy 'thank you'. Suddenly, you place your hands on your hips as you remember something. "Hey, wait a second. Why don"t I have blades in my trunk? Are we not letting the Fourth Squad attack?"

Hange looks at you, unsurprised, as if they expected such a question.

"I need you to stay on the airship as backup," they reason.

You look at them dubiously.

"Just me?"

"And your squad."

You shake your head.

"I don't know. There seems to be a hidden motive behind that."

"Are you questioning my decision?" they challenge.

"I'm questioning you as your wife," you say, another one of your tricks to dodge insubordination. Hange scoffs. "What exempts my squad from this?"

"Squad Levi will be at the frontline if we're up against the Nine Titans. Your squad will only attack when things go astray. Until then, your job is to scout aerially and make sure that nobody intrudes."

You open your mouth to argue, but Hange hooks their gear to a nearby tree.

"Last one to get out of the forest is a loser!"

"Hey—!" Your words are interrupted by them flying away at top speed. You grumble. "Ugh, Hange!"

Launching a grappling hook on the nearest tree, you propel yourself forward as you chase them with all your might. Hange takes a sharp turn halfway through, but you predict their actions a second too early. They whiz past trees in random directions, passing fellow soldiers in the same uniforms that camouflage them all too well, but your agility allows you to keep up.

"Wow, you're getting too close," they remark upon looking over their shoulder and finding you only two trees away. "Maybe I should keep you with Levi at the frontlines— (Y/N)!"

"HELP ME!"

The operating device that controls the right grappling hook of your gear stops working the moment you dislodge the left hook from the tree behind you, sending you free-falling from 70 meters in the air. You press on the right-hand device again but to no avail. You try the left, but the steel wire is visibly stuck after immediate retraction.

The wind blows the hair away from your face as you free fall. All it takes is approximately 3.8 seconds for you to hit the forest floor, but when you protect your head and brace for impact, you are caught by Hange just in time.

"O-oh my gosh—" you try to process your thoughts as you clutch your heart.

Hange settles you down on the ground. The Scouts nearby halt their training and land on the surrounding tree branches, observing the aftermath of the incident. Members of your squad and Levi's arrive moments later, followed by numerous soldiers with inkling curiosity at your desperate shriek.

Still shocked, you tug at Hange's suit to thank them, but they look furious.

It's not your fault, but you feel small under their gaze.

Hange is a different person when mad.

"Are you okay?!" they ask frantically, one hand patting your body for any signs of injury as the other holds you tightly. Hange repeats the question, but you can't answer properly as you try to come into terms with the shock. You've used broken equipment before, but none of those instances were as life-threatening as this.

Hange notices your body trembling, and they take it as a sign to stop asking you any further.

"I'm sorry, love. I'm not mad at you, I just... ugh!"

Their face contorts into frustration once more. How is it possible that everyone else's gear is working perfectly fine, but yours isn't? Hange made sure to keep their instructions clear as the new equipment were distributed among the soldiers: keep the Fourth Squad's and Squad Levi's the most defect-free.

As Levi approaches, Hange remembers the engraving on the body of the device that should be present in everyone else's gear: a unique serial code that should differ from each one. They gently turn you on your side to check the engraving.

Their blood boils.

"Everyone, stop whatever you are doing!”

In the far distance, you can hear the soft whirs of the anti-personnel maneuvering gear coming to a halt, clearly hearing the voice of their Commander.

“Alright, now tell me which USELESS DIMWIT in the Walls decided to give MY WIFE the broken gear that I instructed MANY TIMES to get rid of before coming here?!"

The entire forest remains quiet, possibly even quieter than before. The Scouts stare at the Commander, reflecting on their words with mouths agape.

They collectively don't know which piece of information to process first: the fact that Commander Hange is fuming in anger of a possible sabotage or the fact that they had just revealed your marriage. Somewhere in the crowds of soldiers, a few gasp at the latter detail.

Albeit still trembling, your face heats up at Hange's outburst, feeling a hundred different pairs of eyes looking down at the both of you.

You shake Hange's arm.

"I-I'm okay, you were there just in time, Hange—"

"Until I find out the idiot who did it, nobody is leaving this stupid forest!"

"Oi, Hange. Have mercy on your wife." Levi points at your shaking form. Your head faces the ground, afraid to look up given the commotion. Two of your squad members rush beside you for comfort. "It could have been intentional. Don't act rashly now."

Hange inhales deeply to respond to Levi's statement, but they hesitate as rationality strikes them. They momentarily let go of you to push their goggles to the top of their head before squeezing your hands tightly.

"I'm so sorry. Change out of your gear and leave with your squad. I'll meet you later."

You find it better to follow than to disobey them. Standing up from the ground, you immediately lean in for a hug. Although not as intimate as you normally would, Hange embraces you back and you feel even more eyes peering at the two of you.

"Thank you so much. I love you."

"I love you, too."

As you leave with the Fourth Squad, Wim and Holger stare at each other, their jaws reaching the floor. They can't communicate freely in the environment they're in, but their wide eyes are enough to articulate the incredulity and satisfaction of knowing that they were right all along.

By the foot of the trees, Connie stands in between Armin, Jean, Eren, Mikasa, and Sasha, who are equally dumbstruck by the revelation.

Connie looks at Sasha, whom he has amazing telepathy with.

Did you know this? Sasha asks. I did not know this.

I think I knew this, Connie replies.

How do you 'think that you know this'? Sasha asks again. Either way, that's not fair! I didn't know!

Connie shakes his head. Nobody did for certain. Maybe except for Captain Levi.

The ride back to the Survey Corps headquarters is silent. You're too shameful to talk to your squad members as close as you may be, but you're grateful for their understanding of your boundaries.

On your way to the headquarters, you pass by the Anti-Marleyan volunteers with Yelena notably in the crowd. Her face brightens up the moment she sees you in the new maneuvering gear; she thinks you look a thousand times prettier than your day-to-day style. She makes her way to your sauntering horse, then tries to catch your attention with a friendly wave of her hand.

Before she can speak with you, one of your squad members taps her shoulder and shakes his head. Yelena slows down her pace and decides to lag behind with the man who had tapped her.

"Squad Leader (Y/N) doesn't want to speak to anyone at the moment," your squad member explains. Yelena raises her eyebrows, awaiting further explanation. "She is following Commander Hange's orders."

"What does the Commander have to do with whom she speaks to?" Yelena asks, finding it ridiculous that Hange would impose such a dumb rule for you to follow.

The man looks panicked.

"Well... she is the Commander's... wife," he replies, unsure if he should be spreading such information that was only revealed to him not more than 20 minutes ago. Yelena nearly stops walking.

What the hell did he just say?

A random memory from many months ago occurs to her.

Onyankopon, the Commander, and the Marleyan chefs. The dining service by the harbor. Yelena noticing the wedding band on the Commander's finger. Commander Hange mentioning their preference, making their interests clear.

Yelena deducing that they were married to a fellow soldier.

"Apologies, but I will be on my way," the man bids goodbye and commands the horse forward to catch up to the rest of the squad. Yelena is left by the side of the road, alone in shock.

She chuckles bitterly.

Out of all people, she thinks to herself.

At the very least, Hange was telling the truth. You are beautiful.

[romanoffsbish]

Forever Mine

Natasha Romanoff x F!R (College AU)

Warnings: Angst -> Fluff / HE | Classism / Break-Up | Insecure R | Jealous / Possessive Natasha | Violence

Natasha was supposed to be having the time of her life, it was her final year playing college ball and she was hoping to end it on a good note but you threw her off her game. So, the night before another she found you at a party… | WC: 7,252

Smut: Rough -> Soft | Fingering (Both) | Oral (R) | Thigh-Riding (N) | Denial / Overstimulation | Choking

18+ | Minors DNI

Natasha glared across the room as she caught a fool with their eyes on you—the love of her life (the ex). You smiled politely; sweet, the way that always made her face hot and her heart skip—the most beautiful feeling.

Everything was perfect, but then you ended things. Nonsense uttered about focusing on school but you were not dressed like someone who preferred solitude.

You looked like you were here to fuck and forget, which only further soured her mood. Here she was waiting, hoping to see you since you won't answer her calls and you were relaxing at a frat party in a scandalized fit. It only made her heart ache even more for owed answers.

——

Her first thought was to yell at you, to cross the room and scream at you in front of your peers until you apologize or run out crying. The rational side of her could see you were out of your element, while they told jokes you nodded but your smile had lost its shine. It was clear to her you were definitely not feeling joyful.

Which is more in line with what she expected since you two were just madly in love a month ago, then you came back home from Christmas vacation with her family in Malibu, where the weather was dreary. It was a weekend full of pretentiousness, her parents to blame but with you at her side she could actually handle it all.

One smile from you and she'd settle, you were so calm and loving, everything she felt she didn't deserve but nonetheless she clung to with firm arms. Every time her parents upset her, she'd find and pull you close and you would let her without a single prying question, the two of you would naturally melt into pure tranquility.

Unfortunately that peace you brought her now ceased to exist, you changed in a blink, the quiet car ride home alarmed her enough, you fell asleep on the couch that night then somehow she lost her entire heart in three days when you stumbled right out the door—you left.

She shared her New Years kiss with a bottle of Rosé, the one that Wanda gifted you on your twenty first birthday, when everything was so much simpler.

You were saving it for your second anniversary, which was meant to occur a few days ago, but you walked out before that could happen so she took a large swig then poured the rest of the bottle out onto your cacti that filled a corner of her house. Now you lived in a friend's dorm until you can find somewhere else to stay. The redhead begged you to stay, even offering to stay in a hotel until you could find somewhere secure and safe.

You refused and rushed out to avoid sobbing in front of her and begging her to just love you even if you would never be good enough for her; Natasha was luxury.

You were too, but beauty was in the eye of the beholder and you were trusting the hoaxed, who lived to judge. Natasha had a suspicion for what your motive was. The breakup has been on her mind every day and it is what keeps her up at night. She should be furious, it is her right after all, but all she feels is deep pain and regret.

Regret for not publicly calling out her family for ever shunning you; making sure you felt her love, she saw a flash of unwillingness and regret before you turned away from her and ran out the door with two bags and there in turn lies the pain, not being able to love you. A set of tears slid down her cheeks as she remembered that night, the inevitable memory spiral underway.

Her mind cleared when she heard you say no way, there were a million reasons for it but she assumed the worst based on her petty observations. Natasha saw a look of discomfort on your face and her nonchalant resolve crumbled, the rage she felt towards you turned into something she could express as she walked over to the both of you and punched DJ square in the face.

"Oh my god," you gasped, "Natasha what the fuck?"

"The prick should have kept their hands to themself!"

You rolled your eyes, prepared to defend your friend but DJ rushed forward and head-butted Natasha in the nose, blood gushed and you felt queasy at the mess you had made by ignoring their encouragements to talk with her, maybe if you had this headache wouldn't be.

They ran with the violence though, leaving you frozen in place, unable to move in their tumultuous direction.

Until Natasha easily got the upper hand seconds later, tapping into the power of the Greek gods to punch the poor kid in the gut. Your lanky friend went flying and you realized it was time to intervene before cops arrive.

DJ bounced back fast and went to swing next but you jumped in between them and the brunette faltered. A sigh of dejection left their lips and they lowered their fist but the glare didn't waver. "Watch your back, Red."

You sent them off with a smile of appreciation and they nodded like it was a secret code. Natasha wore her envy close to her chest until it spread to her features.

"Are you really already seeing other people," she cried, a direct contrast to her glassy eyed glare, even when her words are angry she can only express devastation.

"Natasha," you pled, "come with me upstairs, please."

The redhead didn't want to give you the grace of a shameless admittance. You humiliated her by breaking her heart before the semi-finals game that DJ had to save. Natasha was the best on the team, coming in at only 5'3 but she had unbeatable court skills. That was supposed to be her night for scouts to truly take notice of her, she was meant to shine, but now, instead she is on the eve of the finals on the verge of being benched.

Instead of practicing her free throws down at the court with the metal chains; sprinting short distances in manic repetition, or most importantly, getting sleep; she is intermixed with drunk college idiots for you.

Because, as much as she hated admitting it, she just can't do any of those things without you being her personal cheerleader anymore—she is exhausted.

Something you noticed when you finished wiping her face clean of the blood and smudged makeup. Under it all, you found winter kissed cheeks where faint freckles remained, waiting for the rays to bring them back, the urge to kiss over the bridge of her nose arose. A soft, instinctual smile graced your face until you caught sight of her dark circles and dry, flaky skin. "Natasha."

It was a whisper but she heard your shock and guilt. Though the redhead misunderstood your concern, and boasted, "they had it coming, you needed protection."

You reached down to rinse off the rag, then began to smooth it over her face once more, the warmth of the fabric blanketed her in false serenity as you couldn't just let her be cocky and vaguely noble. "You don't need to protect me Nat, and especially not from my friends." Natasha rebuffed you with a promise, her tone venomous, "I will always protect you from tools."

"You shouldn't," you changed your approach, and just as expected she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, why's that?"

You sighed regretfully, "I'm not yours anymore Nat..."

"Says you," she grunted, "I had no say nor an actual explanation. Just lies about focusing on school as if we weren't both already focused students at the start."

"We're on different paths," you weakly tried again, moving to gently clean her discolored, swelling nose. "Don't," she warned as she momentarily turned cold, her eyes hardened and she pushed your hands away only to disgust you as her hands popped her nose back into place, she took in a shaky breath and you broke even more seeing the way she tried to hide her wince.

"Please, just let me take care of you Nat, you're only hurt because of me." Natasha scoffed bitterly, "that's a gross understatement if I've ever heard one before."

"I—," you flinched and Nat regretted her harshness instantaneously, her scowl quickly fell into a frown.

There was no satisfaction like she thought there'd be in rightfully scolding you for breaking her heart. All that was left in her mind was to receive the truth for it all.

"Why?" her murky, viridescent eyes filled with tears and you sighed sadly, "I heard your parents Nat, what they said, and I couldn't help but to see the end." You felt it was time to be honest, leaving the ball in her court on if she even wanted to fight for this or if she was angry enough that she'd pick her family over you.

Natasha's expression did a 180 as you confirmed her worst nightmare, her features rightfully downcast, she was pissed off, but wasn't exactly sure who at just yet, them for ever interfering or you for not talking it out.

"What they said isn't true," she growled, "not to me."

You chuckled humorlessly, "they're right Nat. I am not going to ever be at your caliber. I'm going to be a low wage teacher for heaven's sake, you'll be an engineer."

"So what? Those are jobs!!" Natasha lost it and you fed off her anger, gut gnawing detest clear as you spoke on, "Melina said it best, you're beautiful—better, and I..."

Natasha harshly slammed her lips to yours, body seamless as it slipped off the counter and spun you around until she had you corralled. The upset woman blindly reached behind herself to lock the door, then she pushed you into the marble until you whimpered.

The way your body was bent back over the sink hurt, the side of your face being pressed onto the chilled mirror. Natasha was just trying to silence you, to keep you from saying anything remotely self deprecating, but then she couldn't stop herself from seeking more.

In a haste manner she smoothly lifted you up from beneath your thighs and hoisted you onto the counter like you weighed nothing and proceeded to kiss you. All rational thought left you as she devoured your soul, just like she always did whenever she kissed you quiet.

A metallic taste pulled you from your desires, you pulled away and tried to push her back but it was fruitless. Natasha was soft in nature, when she wanted to be—her eyes used to regard you so, but now they were hard and terrifying. Most weekends you'd spend laying your head on her stomach that had a soft bloat for you to snuggle against. Right now though, with her entire body tensed you were reminded of her strict gym regimen and diet, designed just for her scholarship.

"Please," she begged, something that momentarily stunned you since she never was one to beg. "I need this Y/N, like a fire needs air to breathe, I need you."

"You have to let me go," you tried to sound genuine but she could hear the tremble in your voice. "I-I can't be the reason you lose your family Natasha. Yelena ne—."

"I'd give everything and everyone else in the world up if it meant you'd be by my side," she cut you off, her heart would shatter if Yelena took her parents side but it would be bearable if you were there to hold her tight.

"I'm not worth it Tash," you tried again, pushing with all your might because you knew how close the sisters are, but Natasha wouldn't relent on this. Instead, she burrowed her face into the warm space between your shoulder and jaw that was made just for her to do.

"You're worth plenty," she mumbled against your skin that now felt the warmth of her love as she suckled.

"Na-Nat," you moaned and she hummed in sync, "I need you to let go," she paused abruptly for emphasis, using your own words against you like a power move, "of this idea that I'm somehow better than you, Y/N."

"You—." Natasha cut you off, "don't need you to speak for me—especially when you parrot my idiot parents."

For the first time in forever you were silent, allowing Natasha a moment to just observe your sullen face. There was no spark left in your eyes to mirror your adventurous soul and it broke her heart even more which the redhead never thought possible. If she never heard from her parents again she'd avoid a felony.

"Yelena loves you by the way, something you know."

"I do," you admitted, "but they're your guys parents."

"Fuck them," she commanded, "they don't matter."

"They love you two." Natasha shrugged. "Yeah, but love shouldn't have limits, Y/N, and if theirs does then it's worthless to me. I want something real, and deep and could give two fucks less about your damn net worth."

Natasha decided right as she saw your longing glance that now is as good a time as any to finally confess her feelings, "I-," but she was suddenly nervous. A moment of heavy silence passed, your eyes curious and hopeful, yet guarded. "I love you," she admitted the truth she'd failed to so many times before. It had to be perfect, but then you said it first and instead of screaming it back she kissed you with so much passion you blanked.

That night she made love to you, but it wasn't enough.

Not only did you fail to see her devotion but you heard her parents, whom she once highly respected, dismiss you as worthy of her love anyways because of status.

They only had money because Melina works for the Starks, yet somehow they thought they were genuine elites. Nobody invited the family to galas, they just had an oversized house and sports cars to sell the image.

All her life the redhead was told how to exist to keep the whole facade up, what she should wear, how to impress adults, where to go—whether that be for dinner or college, and the list goes on until she finally ended her parents overbearing reign on her future.

Natasha chose engineering because it came easy to her, the same way that teaching and nurturing did to you, the exact reason the redhead fell for you, it pains her to see that what she loves most is being used against you.

Especially because what you are is light and love, and no amount of money could pay for such attributes, it was just organically woven into the foundation of you. It's what made you the perfect candidate for education.

Natasha is a firm believer that teachers make the world go round, even if she's had her fair share of the spawns of Satan himself, the ones who would punish her for her undiagnosed and therefore unmanaged ADHD. It wasn't until junior year that she found herself a you and if not for that she would be living without truth.

Mrs. Rambeau, known to her as Maria during lunch, was her first period Calculus teacher. The woman was stern at a first glance, but without the rowdy crowd of classmates she was soft and hilarious. The moments spent with her eased Natasha's own deprecating voice.

It was her who convinced Natasha to go for what she wanted and not to follow her mom into a lab or her dad into a lifelong play of sports that'd lead her to coaching and to the inevitable breakdown of her body over time.

At her graduation it was her she sought out first, and where she met her wife, Carol and their daughter, Monica. The couple had laughed knowingly at the awestruck teenager before Maria hugged her tight. Then Natasha lifted their little girl, letting her hang off her flexed forearm and found her heart melted as the sweet girl with the dimples and swaying curls giggled.

Natasha saw her future clearly through them; a family, something she only could have with you in her arms.

"I'll give up engineering," she declared, "be a teachers assistant to the prettiest one this towns yet to meet."

"What?" You shook your head, "don't be insane now."

"I'm afraid I've already fallen off my rocker detka," she teased, but you didn't share in the humor of the moment, her smile turned into a frown as she sighed, "I lost every last good part of me with you; the only way to bring me back is with our love restored."

"Natasha, I," you paused, a bit unsure where to start, but it didn't matter because she always knew what to say. "I'm no better than you," she continued with a smile that spoke of honesty. "I'm beneath you."

"No," you rebutted and she shook her head with an obvious expectation. "Seriously Y/N/N, if you don't teach the next generation then there's no future!!"

You chuckled, finally easing into your ex's embrace, "Natasha, I will hardly make a difference in their lives."

"You are so clueless," she groaned, "I love and hate that about you the most. Because, when you trip over your words and I kiss you silent it's perfect." Her lips quirked reminiscently and yours easily followed, then she was back to her enthused speech, "Yet, when I am telling you just how amazing you are, you still push back. I just want you to see what I do, let me love you."

"You love your family," you reminded her once again and she shrugged once more, growing tired of your baseless argument. "Not as much as I love you detka."

Natasha snorted painfully as your breath hitched, a bit too amused by your shock, as if her sentiment wasn't clear prior, even with the absence of her words. "The only question is do you love me enough to let me lead."

"I—." Once again you paused, but this time it was because you couldn't refrain from yanking her back into you for a kiss. A rushed 'sorry' slipped from your lips between steamy, sloppy open mouthed kisses, meant mostly for the wince as your nose had nudged hers but it was emotional in tone so she understood it held a much deeper meaning. Forgiving you was easy...

Especially when she had your body to release her anger upon, her fingers slipped between the tense skin of your abdomen and skirt, "is it okay?" As soon as you moaned yes her svelte fingers slipped over the wet hot mess she'd created, pulling breathy moans from you as she parted your slick lips with her twitching fingers.

Natasha knew what she was doing, teasing you was her specialty, known to build you up until you were crying tears of immense joy. The redhead was lowering you into a false sense of security though, her thumb lightly pressed into the nub that pulsed with need then she changed the pace and plunged into your tight walls.

"Oh fuck," you threw your head back and hoped the glass wouldn't shatter, fortunately it didn't but you sure did break the sound barrier with your cries as she went from one to three fingers between a heartless set of thrusts. Her palm pressed and dug into your clit every single time her digits slammed back into you, each time she reached even deeper in as your growing arousal made stretching you out so easy. You trembled with such need the redhead could've cum on the spot, the same way you felt with the vicious pace she'd set.

It wasn't too far from your normal encounters, as soft as your relationship was, Natasha was very passionate in the bedroom. There was usually a delicate flair to the way she would pound into your cunt, but this time it was deliciously vicious. To the point that breathing became a struggle for you as the redhead masterfully brought you close to the edge. Teetering was all you could do though as she never let you fall fully, which was so unlike her, usually you had to beg her to stop..

The free hand not buried within you lifted your shirt and tossed it across the bathroom in one fluid motion. Her tongue swift and warm as it trailed down the side of your neck, lathing over the brutal marks as she left them behind. Natasha needed to remind you and the entire campus who was going to forever have you, which is why she continued on down. Impatience at the forefront of her mind as she remembered what it was like to bring you to the edge, so she ripped your bra and you felt the reminder of immense pleasure as her tongue curled beneath your nipple, lips suctioned to your heated skin as she began to suck and nibble.

Drool pooled under her chin and slid down your skin as she lavished both of your breasts, keeping you a muffled moaning mess but no matter the waves of pleasure that followed the curl of her fingers or the ruthlessness of her teeth, you just couldn't reach that special place of pleasure because the redhead also knew just what not to do and it was starting to hurt.

"Na-Natasha please," you finally gave into the desire, needing release and not understanding the denial as your thighs impulsively tried to shut around her arm. The redhead considered it, always loving when you begged, but she couldn't just yet, her fingers stopped but they remained buried deep within. "N-no! Why?"

The redhead released the side of your breast that had just been caught between her teeth, the burn of her former grip lingered and weakened your fortitude as you caught a glimpse of her heavy turmoil. "Natty?"

There was a level of despondency that alarmed you. Ever since she saw you tonight, her mind just couldn't stop wondering—have you been with someone else? The sickening thought, that it could be DJ, made her behave irrationally, her fingers tensed inside of you.

"Who's been taking my—," Natasha's growl was cut off by your abrupt plea, "Natasha, look at me." She didn't. Your voice was strained from priorly screaming, but even so it remained strong, "look up, come on baby."

Still, she remained frozen, trapped within her mind as her fears continued to mercilessly taunt her. It broke you all over again to see just how insecure she had become since the breakup. Knowing your choices led her to this moment, where she'd doubt you, hurt a lot.

"I am, and always have been yours," you practically begged her to believe you, tone sincere and hardly influenced by your need to cum. "I have not, and would not have been with another. I only want you Nat, please." The redhead lifted her gaze from where her chin was pressed into your breast to find your earnest face. She believed you, but she was still so mad and kept her forgiveness shadowed behind dark eyes. "I'll believe it when everyone else does; scream my name..."

The way her calloused fingertips brushed over your most sensitive spot within as she curled her digits, holy hell—you nearly blacked out; the corners of your vision blurred as your eyes rolled when her move repeated, over and over, each new thrust more aggressive than the last and that sent you cascading into your bliss after having already received her veiled approval.

A loud scream of her name that became a desperate chant until eventually you were no more capable of an incoherent set of babbles as she kept up her brutal pace was, well, it was clarifying. It finally put the redhead at ease with your truth, she was able to feel as your walls squeezed her in place with every desperate cry of her name that dripped from your chewed up lips.

The bitter tension left her body in a whoosh but all that did was soften her thrusts. A warm, wet kiss left at the base of your neck made your walls quiver with the aftereffects of the high and it became apparent then that Natasha didn't have the interest to stop herself.

"Nat," you called out hoarsely, "you need to rest."

Though your body resisted the message your mind was sending as it reacted pitifully when her wet fingers departed your warmth, just to slide up and slowly stroke your clit, steadfast on keeping you engaged.

"I'll rest when I'm full," she teased against the side of your breast, where her tongue returned to trace over your sensitive skin. "N—," your words faded into a gasp when her teeth grazed your sore nipple just before the redhead began to suckle again, with so much passion and effort you'd think you were feeding her. In a way, you were as the lust clouded your responsible mind, and just like that you were giving into her slightly.

Your fingers, fueled by desire, roughly wove into her hair and the passion was back on, in full force as she released your nipple with a loud pop as she groaned. A strong arm slid beneath your ass and pulled you from the counter and in a flash you found yourself pressed into a frat boy's lumpy mattress. Natasha admired you up close and purred huskily, "such a pretty thing."

"N-Nat," the redhead slipped her tongue into your mouth and sullied your protest into obscurity as her rough hands explored your every curve. A whimper vibrated beneath her palm, having had slid up to wrap her fingers around your throat, the way you mutually craved. There was a possessive, domineering glint in her eye the moment she pulled away to see the result.

You were always such a worrier, so she knew the only way you'd shut up is if she made you—it was also such a turn on for her to watch you go cross eyed every time she cut your access to air off, it was a delicate play of pain and pleasure she had mastered, it always left you desperate for more, something she saw in your eyes just before your lips met again in a passionate kiss.

Her teeth had clashed with yours and you tasted the metallic consequence, which only made you feel hotter. Both of her hands slid down your sides, painfully slow, you could barely breathe as her toying with you worked you up. Natasha's clit pulsed with yours when she felt your thighs tremble as her fingers oh so gently landed on the slippery skin, but with a coded firmness as she'd gripped onto them. The look in your eyes told her she'd won, the smirk let you know she knew; she spread you out further, pecked your lips and spoke, "I am going to devour you now Y/N, I've been deprived long enough."

Before you could grapple with your conscience and deny her on the basis of her own wellbeing she was situated with her face before your slicked lips. The aroma of your essence naturally wafted her way and the saliva that filled her mouth was autonomic enough to inspire her to surge forward to lap up the trails of you that ran down your plush thighs. Every once in a while she'd stop to play with your heartbeat, suctioning her lips at the apex of your thigh, nearest to your mound that only further glistened with neediness.

Natasha knew she had a game to prepare for, the same way you did—but she saw prep differently than you. Sure, sleep was important, but if she was expected to win, she would need to have her taste of you first. After all, you should remember her game time ritual; to fuck her pretty, good luck charm dumb the night before. It had never failed her, until you disappeared of course, which only proved, to her, that this sequence mattered.

A groan left the redhead when she finally dove into you, but fortunately for her you found pleasure in the way she let her pain vibrate through your intimacy. Your back quickly arched as her tongue swirled around your clit and she took pride in knowing you were so distracted by the pleasure she gave you. In your right mind, you would've pushed her away, but that's exactly why she worked so hard to get you to be this pliant..

"Mmmm," you expressed your feelings through a low hum as your hips twitched and pressed your core further against her face, letting her tongue reach even further within, where you by some degree tasted even sweeter. This subtle change always drove the redhead to lose her mind as she strained her neck just to reach your sweetness again. The carnal hunger drove her hands to grip your thighs tight enough to leave bruises and press you further apart, the sounds that came from below were down right lewd now, fueling your praises along and leaving Natasha's boxers stuck to her skin.

"Ohhh shit," you shrieked when you felt the tip of her tongue barely graze a particularly sensitive spot, dots of white filled your vision and Natasha hardly heard your mindless praise with the way your thighs tried to double up as earmuffs. If not for her trained strength, she would likely be deafened to your waves of pleasure, which she needed to fuel her own but she managed to keep you apart just enough to hear your pretty cries.

You were so heavenly, Natasha was overjoyed to have you like this again, her hollow walls quivered with such a need as she felt your juices drip down her chin, that she nearly readjusted both of your bodies to fuck your face but she was too desperate to bring you to climax. Which is why she pulled her tongue out, chuckling devilishly against your sensitive folds when you whined in protest, you looked down, dazed. It was the hottest thing to witness as she locked her gaze with yours.

Natasha placed a few open mouthed kisses to your pussy lips as she slowly made her way up to your clit, dark gaze stuck on yours, you stopped breathing for a moment when you took her appearance in. A bit of the lust wavered from yours as she slowed it down, and she saw the concern in yours as the bruising had worsened.

Before you could grapple with your sound morality her tongue softly caressed your neglected clit, you mewled and nearly fell back down but Natasha wasn't having it. "Eyes on me detka," her gravely tone sent a delightful shiver down your spine—you were enraptured as you watched, and felt, her swollen lips brush over your clit.

"Na—," you were going to beg for relief but stuttered as two of her fingers teased your entrance, she slowly pumped her fingertips in and out as her lips only covered your clit, offering no real stimulation. Until she finally broke the silence, "give me everything."

Her lips suctioned around your swollen nub, and you nearly blacked out as her fingers slid all the way in, predatory eyes piercing into your closing set. Your left side jutted off the bed as the intensity of the pleasure you felt was just too much for your body to bear after so much overstimulation. Natasha swiftly readjusted her body, arching her back to give her wrist more space to move, but mostly to allow her to hold your body down with her right arm pressing into your stomach.

Sweet arousal continued to fill her mouth as it gushed up with every thrust of her fingers, you were so close and she wanted to be closer to you. So her thumb replaced her lips on your clit, as they were traveling up your body, knees holding you open as the arm holding you down now held her up. Your thighs trembled and most of your body ached but you welcomed her tongue down your throat without resistance. It was as if all you needed was to taste yourself on her lips because just like that you were squirming, trying desperately to close your legs and this time Natasha allowed you to.

Once again she readjusted, pressing her covered core against your thigh, you felt the warmth and fell apart. The kiss you two shared broken as you both moaned in mutual ecstasy. You felt so desperate to get her off further, even though you were exhausted, so your hand slid into her shorts to find the results of her climax. There was thought of protest, but Natasha missed this and knew she wouldn't last long so there was no need. 

With skilled fingers you spread her arousal around then easily slipped two of them inside her warmth, pumping in and out slowly like she preferred, at first. The pace picked up when she clenched around your fingers, you began to kiss her again, and after just three firm curls of your fingers within her she came once more. In a matter of seconds you greedily pulled your fingers from below to slip them into your mouth.

You softly hummed around your fingers as you were reacquainted with your girlfriend's divine taste. The moment your lips were free you felt hers, it was a warm kiss full of sensuality as she mixed your arousals with her exploratory tongue. It made your out of order body feel as if it could actually go on for the entire night.

"I want more," she rasped against your lips, you met her with a soft giggle and she fell into you with a pout. "I want more too, Tasha," you sighed, your hands firm as they squeezed her hips, emphasizing your words. "But we should really get your nose fixed up and then get some sleep, since you need to be court ready."

Natasha reluctantly agreed, and moved to help you to clean up, she readjusted your clothes until you looked untouched by her, then she kissed you. You felt her love already but smiled as she said the words so softly, you hugged her tight and returned the sentiment. It was a perfect moment, her hand caressed your neck while her other gripped your opposite hip from behind.

For a moment you both ignored responsibility and just held each other close. A loud knock pulled you both from the peaceful embrace and you looked to your everything with wide eyes. Natasha was amused, a part of her wanted to rip the door open and walk out with you on shaky legs so everyone knew you were hers.

The other, more mature part knew to protect your dignity so she found an escape route instead, just in time for the drunken idiot to pull out their room key. She tore the sheets off their bed, stuffing them into a frat duffle she'd return later and rushed you onto the balcony, that conveniently had a set of diagonal stairs.

You ran across the street to her car, laughing as she held you back from opening your own door, her arm wrapped around your waist as she kissed the side of your neck affectionately. Once the door was opened by her, she allowed you to move forward while rushing back to her side so she could settle you in. You rolled your eyes and waited patiently as she turned the key in the ignition, turning the heater on for you before she buckled you in, then tugged on the strap to check it.

Soon enough she was driving you out of the area and towards her apartment, with her hand on your thigh, her focus remained on the road but her fingers gently traced shapes into your exposed skin at the red lights. Offering you comfort that you appreciated, as this is your first time in the space since you left. If you asked Natasha yesterday, she'd say you deserved to feel bad, but after a few minutes with you she felt otherwise.

It was quiet as you entered, the both of you moving around as if you never parted. You greeted Liho, and waited for Natasha to let you know she was ready as she went on to prepare the shower for you both. It gave you time to see nothing had changed, except that even more photos of you two together had been put up. You smiled as your heart cracked a bit at the depth of her.

It was overwhelming to go from genuine questioning to so assured in her love for you. It was easier though when she looked at you, hand extended and body bare. You let her guide you to the bathroom, undress you, and devote her time to taking care of you. Then, once you were both dressed for bed you did the same, you straddled her on the toilet and patched her nose up.

You deposited kisses to her unaffected skin, and lips with every wince and made sure not to take too long addressing her nose. Natasha preferred quick and painful to slow and still somewhat painful. There wasn't much you could do anyway but to apply an ice cube bag for as long as she'd allow then put a splint on.

In appreciation or infatuation, you received a deep kiss but you were not going to fall prey to her charm, again. You both needed to rest, so you departed in a hurry.

When you got out of the bathroom you expected to lay down on the tempurpedic mattress you missed just slightly more than your lover. But just as your behind nearly met the mattress you were scooped between buff arms, a tired giggle leaving you. "Not so fast."

You hadn't a chance to respond before she whisked you out of the apartment in your thin pajamas, but now that you've adjusted to being outside you whined, "it's cold," and the redhead giddily jumped into action. In a matter of seconds you were enveloped by warmth and cedar-wood, the familiar scratch of her letterman jacket brushed against your skin and you smiled. It was a brief moment of comfort until you heard her yawn.

"Natasha, it's two in the morning and your bus leaves at six," you instantly scolded the redhead, who now sported a skin tone nose splint that you hoped would blend well beneath her foundation. "I need to practice, the game is tomorrow, today is just travel and practice so we can sleep on the ten hour bus ride," she decided.

"We?" Natasha grinned. "Of course, just like before."

You couldn't help but to tease, "What if I had plans?"

Natasha smirked, her shoulders shrugged lazily as she took a perfect shot and mused, "they'd be something to cancel, I believe." The ball, as if on her side, swooshed into the metal net and her suave, inflated ego returned. "One might say this game will go down in history."

You rolled your eyes but a smile overtook your face as she came to deposit a kiss to your lips, as is tradition with these late night practices. The redhead admired you fondly, one hand cupping your cheek as the fingers of her other traced the yellow felt on your back; the perfect figure eights helped to calm her when she felt the push back against her fingertips, a touch to remind her that this—you, were real. For the first time in over three months the woman felt like she could breathe, having you in her arms made her forget her objective.

Then you giggled, teasingly calling out to her, "Natty?"

Natasha hummed, her hazy gaze met yours and your heart melted at the peace you watched settle in her. You felt guilty having to ruin the moment, especially after being the reason she was clinging, but you got it together, and firmly spoke, "get back to the net."

The redhead could've cackled, because with the late time you were actually just an adorable little grump, not your usual intimidating self. She considered challenging you, but she remembered how important the upcoming game is so she pulled you out with her.

"Natasha no," you cried, a body that felt like jello from a long day was not meant for the court. "I am tired." The redhead rolled her eyes and assumed the position, making you scowl, but you mirrored her body anyways because you love her enough to suffer through this.

Ask Natasha, and she'd say you were being dramatic because you were smiling from ear to ear whenever she got around you and yanked you into a rushed kiss. It was a flurry of movements, you could hardly register them, so you were likely not challenging her in the slightest but you were improving her performance.

"If I make this shot," Natasha caught your curious gaze and met it with a smirk; it'd been so long, the sun rays were casted around her and you couldn't believe you ever let her go, she was mesmerizing—to the point that you barely heard her tease, "we get married in Vegas."

"Absolutely n—," you were cut off by the squeal that left your own lips as her body abruptly collided with yours, an arm wrapped and flexed behind you having pulled you in to keep your arms from blocking her. The clang of the net, and your loud protests were shut out of your mind the moment the redhead kissed you, it was full of tenderness, a vulnerability you felt deeply.

"I will make you mine," she promised, and you melted further into her chest. "One day soon, you and I will walk down an aisle and into the rest of our lives, Y/N."

"Yeah?" Natasha pulled back to catch your expression, the tone you took playful and sweet, but your gaze was nothing short of a dreamers. Like you were starstruck by the redheads words, as if they were unexpected and the truth was they probably were to an extent, since you only just heard her true feelings. She nodded and you took in a shallow breath then chuckled in disbelief, this woman was going to be the death of you. "Maybe."

"Care to elaborate?" Natasha was intrigued, not having expected you to accept her faux proposal at the crack of dawn but nonetheless, she was excited just the same. "If you win tonight, I'll let you plan a better proposal."

Natasha grinned wider than she ever had before, at least in front of you, the red tinted her cheeks against her usual expression of perceivable neutrality and you suddenly were being lifted off of the ground. Giggles left the both of you in visible puffs, the cold morning air no match for the warmth of your shared love. A loud engine rumbled in the distance and the redhead caught sight of the bus as it turned into the lot. "Then I guess we shouldn't miss the bus, Mrs. Romanoff..."

Unbeknownst to you, as you laid your aloof head on her chest in the bus meant to lead her to victory, that the ring was already waiting for the day you'd say yes.

[thesturniolos]

guilty pleasures (part 1 )

m. sturniolo x reader

authors note: this picture is actually sickening, need him too bad 🤞

this is all creds to my bae @iheartchrissturniolo thanks for the idea hun < 3 (part 2 including your idea yet to come)

summary: matt has a bit of a crush on his best friend, he’s fantasising ;)

warnings: smut, swearing !!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

she looked heavenly by the pool today, irresistible to the point where my heart ached. i knew i couldn’t have her, i’ve only been reminding myself everyday for the past 6 years and it’s agonising.

the way the droplets of water fell off her golden skin, the bikini that accentuated her curves, oh so perfectly. and knowing i chose it for her was like the cherry on top of the cake. blue- my favourite colour - and hell she knew it when she bought it, she even told me. “i wonder why you picked this one” i remember her slight giggle after she said it, voice like silk, one that plays in my head at night.

she drags her hand through her hair, shaking it a little to get rid of the water, and boy do i wish it was me doing that. for me to be the one to look after her, to do the small things that weren’t so small to me. her eyes are closed and even though she’s been in the water, her makeup remained flawless - not that she needed it, she was absolutely gorgeous with and without.

she didn’t think this however, always telling me how she wishes she looked like anybody else. if she could only see what i see, just for a second, she’d never think that again. she’s better than any supermodel, the ‘prettiest of girls’ according to society weren’t a touch on her. plus, they didn’t come with her personality- she’s a real life angel and i’ve been blessed with even being in her presence.

i would spend every minute and every hour of my day telling her every little thing i love about her from the colour of her nails to the shape of her lips, i don’t care about the dents in her thighs or the stretch marks on her stomach, she’s perfect.

she’s walking closer to me with an arm outstretched, my eyes landing on the matching tattoo she has with me and i smile. i sometimes forget we had that done, which almost instantly brings me back to reality that she is and always will just be my best friend. i cannot afford to lose someone as special as her which is why i have to push those feelings to the side, as much as we want to be free.

her being so close to me and looking at me with those eyes, dark eyes that could mean so many things, made my cheeks blush the slightest red and i become desperate to hide this. what kind of friend blushes like a crazed guy in love when they look at them? it’s just a look, god.

“you got a towel?” there was that voice again, a voice i wish was in my ear forever. it wasn’t high - pitched nor was it deep, it was just in the middle, soothing. reminds me of the times where she held me whilst i cried, the bestest friend there is. reminds me of when she was so utterly drunk and slurring over her words, what was it again?

╭┈┈┈┈╮

“matt” she prods at my arm, waking me up.

“wassup” she frowns looking at my tired state, moving her hand to push hair out of my eyes.

“i’ve got a secret” i frown now, it’s 3am goddamn.

“what’s that”

“you promise you won’t tell anyone?” those little doe eyes drive me crazy, keep looking at me like that and i’ll have an accident.

“i promise” she leans in closer to my ear, her hot breath on my skin.

“i had a dream about you the other day” now i’ve piped up. i don’t care about the time or the sleep in my eyes, she fucking dreamt about me, i’m wide awake.

“oh yeah? good or bad?”

“depends”

“what’d you mean, depends?” once again, driving me crazy. she just knows how to do it.

“well, it depends how you take it.”

“go on.” i’m begging for this now, i need to know what the fuck happened, it’s killing me.

“well, we were doing something,” she twirls my hair in her hand, not looking me in the eyes yet all i can focus on is her and her words. “something best friends don’t do.”

“like what?”

“fucking.”

╰┈┈┈┈╯

held a chokehold over me. every night when i got in to bed i imagined her sleepy self, squirming about in her sheets to the idea of me pounding into her. suddenly i didn’t feel so bad about the hundreds of wet dreams i’ve had ‘bout her, we’re even.

but it only made me more delusional that we could actually be something. she was drunk and it was a dream, i was being dramatic if i thought it was actually something.

“yeah, it’s just there.” i say, pointing to the floor. she bends down to pick it up and i get the best sight of her boobs, pressed against the fabric of her bikini, pushed together ever so slightly. they looked so smooth, so pretty. something i just couldn’t take my eyes off..

“hello? matt?” she swipes her hand in front of my face and i’m so utterly embarrassed, knowing i’d been fixated on her tits. what an assy thing to do, how do i even begin to explain something like that?

“i- uh- i’m sorry! i wasn’t-“ she smiles at me and reaches out to scruff my hair, once again her boobs being directly in my face. is she doing this on purpose? because i’m about to cum in my pants.

“i take it you just really like your choice of bikini, hm?” she laughs, moving the towel to rest it on her hip as she turns around and struts off towards our house. she fucking knows what she does, not just to me but everyone.

i’ve been ignoring the poking in my pants for a while but it’s more prominent then ever now and i need to do something about it or i’m gonna come undone right here right now. it might be pervy but i quite literally cannot be around her when she’s close to naked, my mind travels to the dirtiest of places and to be honest, i’m careless.

if she’s going to act so calm about riling me up like that, then i’m gonna embrace the way she makes me feel. how she makes my cheeks hot and the wet patch that forms in my boxers when she whispers in my ear or now, shoving her boobs in my face.

praying that my jeans cover my painfully obvious hard-on, i quickly walk into the house, making a bee line for my bedroom, desperate to do something about what was happening in my pants.

“you okay, matt?” shes looking at me with a frown, the towel in her hair now as she begins to dry it, still wearing that flattering bikini that is just about to tip me over the edge.

“mhm, i- um, just need to do something.” i look around to see if my brothers are anywhere to be seen, something to distract me from this conversation, i so desperately need to get to that bedroom.

“oh? why’d you look so flustered?” she says with a smug, little smile.

“no reason. i just- i just need a second.” i go to walk away. as much as i would love to stay and talk, right now that is not what i need.

“need my help?”

tags: @strniohoeee @sturnsbaby @sturniolopepsi @malsturns @mattslolita @mattitties @mattsbratt @mattsturniolos @mattsturniolosgf @chrisdevora @christinarowie332 @chrisolivia4l @ilovemattsturn @sturniolossmut @sturnioloswife @sturniolosstar @freshlovehacker @kirby0strombolli @recklesssturniolo @lovingmattysposts @oversturn @ilovemattsturn @urfavstromboli @estelleswrld @strawberrysturniolo @dailysturniolo @deatthmatch @hoesformatt @justangelheree @klarasmith @kvtie444 @cabincorematt @caitifilms @bluesturniolo333 @mattsturnioloswattpad

[epiphainie]

buck meta

ohhh boyyy. i've been putting this off for weeks because it takes me a minute to be objective about buck with how it feels about him around here sometimes but i wanna put all my thoughts somewhere for once and all so here you go, for my 20 followers who like to read my meta 💛

now i've been thinking about how to frame this entire thing, and i keep going back to buck's passivity that people (including me) has talked about since the breakup because this is one thing i never felt in consensus with. when people say buck's passivity it's always about him not calling tommy when he wanted to, how he should go after him and tell him he loves him, and to this day i cannot see what that would change. even if tommy was willing to reconsider his stance during the breakup because all he needed to hear was those three words (which i don't think he would). it would only put them back into this pattern where buck's passivity during the relationship would continue to be an issue.

@alchemistc wrote this awesome tommy meta the other day about how tommy's way of talking about his past in this polished way where he presents these facts like they have no emotional bearing on him anymore created an environment where buck had no way of knowing more about tommy without pushing. now i'm not gonna rehash that because i think her meta is perfect, but i wanna bring it back to buck here and his unwillingness to push. buck who's known for inserting himself in places where he's not even welcome (with eddie's entire life, with taylor and her dad, with abby and her mom). but also buck who has kept hearing he's "too much" or "making things about himself" and has a string of failed relationships in his past, suddenly finds himself in one where it feels as transformative and special as the first time he fell in love. he's comfortable, he's happy, they nominally have started on really strong foundation etc. now this is kind of a side note but while i think part of this is due to how tommy treats buck, i think another part is the freedom he finds in not having to act like "the man" in the relationship, which is awesome because heteronormal roles in relationships suck and buck has always been the giver in his relationships, but only till it skews the other way and you forget the "mutual" part of being in a relationship.

i think this combined with tommy's "water off my back" way of bringing up things about himself that again catie mentioned, and i also wrote about here, really made buck unwilling to rock the boat. do i think he was ignoring tommy when tommy was bleeding his heart open to him? no. again, the way tommy shares things about himself (like just look at the way he talks about gerrard's 118 being oppressive or the one time he brought up his dad; which he again does with the eddie reveal but we'll come back to that) doesn't really invite more digging, especially from a guy like buck whose way of inserting himself in places and wanting more has cost him many relationships.

then the abby fiasco happens. this is likely the first time buck has felt anything conflicting about tommy, especially something he has a personal connection to (now tommy doesn't know this obviously but the way he talks about being closeted with abby and breaking abby's heart is also so reminiscent of how he talks about anything to do with his personal story lol what a guy) and buck genuinely SUCKS at dealing with conflicting emotions. he's such a head in the sand guy when it comes to things that concern him personally and emotionally. he refused to acknowledge that abby had left him for a year, spent almost as long ignoring that him and taylor were on a downward trajectory, pretended eddie leaving didn't make him feel weird till it came out as him acting out and being passive aggressive, he didn't even crack open the book on his sexuality beyond what this relationship means. it is SO in character for buck and i felt this way since the moment i watched 8x06 when people were going "that's so ooc of him" to deal with the storyline (my daily reminder that characterization in an ongoing story is dynamic and there's not one true way for characters to act)

so he learns about abby, he's already unwilling to dig too much into tommy lest he hit something tommy doesn't wanna show, and this time he also has a personal connection to it. he's not gonna "make it about himself" in front of tommy obviously, so he tries to resolve and process the entire thing before the next time they even see each other. he makes peace with it, he's ready to go back to their undisturbed bubble of peace, there's no reason for them to not continue on as they have been.

then he miscalculates his level of damage control.

now i genuinely think that all buck has told tommy right before the breakup is earnest, in that he wants to be with him as long as they can see into the future, he'd love to live together, hell maybe he even thought about marriage, but his motivation for saying these at this time is all wrong. namely that he wants to forget about the one thing he perceived as threat to their relationship so far, pretend he resolved it all in his head, and they can be back in their honeymoon.

then tommy breaks up with him. now i keep going back to tommy's insecurities about buck outgrowing him or finding someone else (someone else later becoming eddie) is a smokeshow to cover for his actual fear of investing in this relationship longterm and seriously, not because he's flaky, but real commitment would require him to open even more of himself to buck. because while these insecurities might have been building up, it's buck's mention of their future that triggers tommy. now i always give tommy more credit in terms of how aware he's of the situation, what he's doing/feeling, but also what buck's doing/feeling, under his layers of bullshit, so i think a part of him foresees the pattern with buck that doesn't spell out confidence in the longevity of their relationship. but this is not what buck hears.

buck doesn't hear "you can't even bring up your issues to me" or "you never ask for more when you seem overtly invested in everyone else's lives" what buck hears is "you're great, i would like to be with you, but you will hurt me whether you mean it or not, so i can't give us a real chance" tommy leaves buck with nothing to reflect on other than that what he's feeling is not forever and he'll cause tommy heartbreak.

now this is where i get back to buck calling tommy in the aftermath. i genuinely think buck calling tommy in the mindset he was in post-breakup would be useless, and the 118 not encouring him was the right thing, because look at buck in those eps. he's upset but he's upset about being in the state of tommylessness. he doesn't do any introspection about what motivated the breakup, what would cause tommy to think that (partly because tommy doesn't give him much as mentioned above lol), and most importantly how he feels beyond "sad" he's not angry, he's not hurt (on the surface), he's making up scenarios about tommy being injured so they can reconnect and take each other back and pretend it's okay. to me THIS is buck's passivity. his unwillingness to take things apart in himself.

so months go by, they're both in a limbo, then they see each other again, and immediately fall into acting the same easy way. buck brings up being dumped but only as a joke because that's the diatance of how willing he is to think about it, tommy sidesteps that comment entirely, buck doesn't ask for more, and they're two amicable exes who clearly still have sexual chemistry and are down to fuck, sex is the easiest thing to buck and they have a great night.

in the morning, buck thinks tommy has left and why wouldn't he? as the party who said "i can see a future for us" and in response got broken up with with "well i can't" i'm not even saying that buck was entirely blind to the possibility of tommy's mind changing, i'm not saying his "what changed?" was in disbelief because tommy is so tightly closed, but i also can't see his "this doesn't have to change anything" as him throwing tommy's feelings in his face (between this line and "tommy is so vulnerable" i lost a couple of years of my lifespan). it's an out in case they're not on the same page after their great night together and can you blame buck for being cautiously optimistic instead as the person who was told their relationship won't last because his feelings are not permenant and will cause the relationship to fail?

i see people taking buck's "are you not scared anymore i won't break your heart?" as him thinking he could never hurt tommy but i think the exact opposite. buck who takes on the blame of things that are not even his fault (like chimney leaving in s5), to the point it genuinely feels like he's making things about himself, who punishes himself emotionally, in my opinion, would just chew on that line for months. especially when tommy didn't give him anything else. why would tommy think buck will break his heart when buck was being so careful with this relationship to begin with? i think buck is aware of his capacity to hurt tommy (or anyone for that matter) especially because we've already seen him hurt tommy, apologize, and ask for a second chance right at the beginning of their relationship, but i don't think buck quite grasps not pushing can also hurt their relationship, come off as disinterest, make tommy latch onto every little think because he's already looking for ways to sabotage himself.

anyway i think, "this doesn't have to change anything" is clearly just an optimistic prompt for them to actually talk about what changed, and "you're not scared i'm not gonna break your heart anymore?" is buck hopeful tommy believes him now when he says he wants a future for them, and i think tommy sees it as that as well but then. he does his own cautious thing where he brings up eddie by downplaying what he felt re him during their relationship. what i love the MOST about this scene is how tommy's careful way of dropping personal nuggets was the one reason buck held back from pushing at all, but here precisely the way he brings it up sets buck off. i genuinely think that if he gave buck any other reason or this reason presented differently, without making a joke of tommy's own insecurities but also buck's feelings, buck would just take tommy back. he was willing to the moment tommy first walked out of that loft, he's had ZERO DESIRE to question tommy's choice or how it made him feel, but this pushes him into the territory where we for once see him feel something about this breakup other than "sad bc i'm alone again". he's justifiably angry because he's hurt and it is so delicious to me after how the show sets up their breakup where maddie suggests if buck's scared tommy will hurt him like he hurt abby, to which buck obviously says no because buck never even thinks other people can hurt his feelings, and then the breakup plays out with tommy leaving him hurt, precisely for the reasons josh spells out.

tldr; to me so many of bucktommy's issues boil down to both treading so carefully because of how much they wanted to make it work and neither being willing to share much of their baggage and not asking more in return. will it change? eh. do i think the show will have buck process all his feelings in front of tommy? i don't think so. at most we'll get an "i'm sorry, i didn't mean that thing about not having feelings for you" and we're lucky tommy responding with "i'm sorry i left" then kiss kiss smooch smooch. which i will take, i will take all the crumbs, but i think it'd be awesome for buck's character and their relationship if buck felt comfortable to bring up all his hurt and conflicting emotions to tommy, realize he can push with his own bullshit but also push tommy to share back more of his bullshit. my kindgom for buck and tommy to be the safe haven to each other where they can lay their hurt, neediness, insecurities, fears, anger with.

[kamaluhkhan]

TIME TO PRETEND

pairing: luke castellan x gn!poseidon!reader word count: 5k chapter summary: you're the eldest child of poseidon and the hero of the last great prophecy. you left your demigod life behind after defeating kronos. now, years later, you find yourself back at camp half blood for the summer.....which means dealing with luke castellan, and all that history (tension?) left unresolved between you. warnings: some nicknames for reader are based on female characters (mermista, sailor neptune) but they're still written as gender neutral. reader has tattoos. mention of alcohol + death (post-titan war). spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series, mostly references to the last olympian. timeline is all over the place but set in the early 2000s for vibes. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 author's note: welcome to another product of my pjo hyperfixation !!! i wanted to finish the nemesis!reader series first but it's summer and i felt like reworking my tsitp series in a camp half-blood setting with bb luke. so prepare for childhood friends to lovers drama! summertime vibes! nostalgia! angst! would love to know what y'all think about this and if you want a part 2 so feel free to scream at me in the comments. otherwise, enjoy and thanks 4 reading 💙

♪: time to pretend by mgmt

YOU’VE GOT MAIL!

1 new message 

from: LukeNotSkywalker

to: Mermista86

subject: you are GETTING that record deal

Hey,

Your demo CD just came in the mail — and, Connor as my witness, I’ve already listened to it five times!!! 

It’s amazing. You’re amazing. The label would totally lose out if they didn’t sign you. 

Things have been pretty chaotic around here, with the summer term happening soon. Speaking of which: are you coming back? Chiron gave me the list of returning campers and counsellors this morning and said he hadn’t heard from you, so I thought I’d ask. I know you’ll be busy with the band, but if you get the chance, it’d be really great to see you.

Anyways, I’m leading the next Shield & Sword session, so I’d better go. Talk soon ;)

- L

FOUR YEARS LATER

TURBULENT WATERS? ALT-ROCK BAND MIDNIGHT SIRENS HIT ROUGH PATCH AFTER LEAD GUITARIST GETS INTO VIOLENT ALTERCATION 

the cover is the nail in the coffin: a blurry picture of you, an electric blue guitar forgotten at your feet, lunging forward into a crowd, with your bandmates on stage behind you in shock. 

you’d gone all this time without any major incidents, and one stupid chimera managed to burn down everything you worked for in one fell swoop.

“that’d be $8.50,” the cashier informs. 

you tear your attention away from the magazine, instead fishing through your pocket for some change. meanwhile, the cashier furrows their brow, leans down slightly to get a better look at you underneath your sunglasses and baseball cap. 

“hey, do i know you?”

“nope,” you say instantly, slapping a $10 bill onto the counter. “keep the change.” you gather your pile of necessary roadtrip supplies (slushies, m&m’s, and goldfish) before rushing out the door, your half-brother trailing behind you.

you slide into the driver’s seat, set each slushie in a cup holder, and hand the rest to percy once he’s slipped into the passenger side. 

“seatbelt,” you remind him. you shake your hair out after removing your baseball cap disguise. “i promised your mom i’d be responsible.” 

percy does as he’s told, though not without mumbling about how he’s practically an adult and a demigod who’s been in much more dangerous situations than a car ride up to long island. you just tell him to put on some music, even though he has a point. he’ll be 18 in august and you’re only five years older, but the fact is that you gave sally jackson your word. 

plus — you’re his older sibling, so gods forbid you let him get hurt. a seatbelt seems like a band-aid solution for one of the most powerful demigods out there, but still.

percy flips through a few radio stations while he sips his blue raspberry slushie. when he doesn’t find anything good, he opens the glove compartment and surveys your music collection before sliding a cd into the stereo. 

instantly, the familiar sound of david bowie’s voice eases the tension in your shoulders.

“good choice?” 

you nod and percy smiles triumphantly. you reach over to steal a few goldfish from the bag he just opened and ruffle his hair playfully, for good measure. 

you’re perfectly happy, driving along a long island highway while getting lost in the glam rock world of ziggy stardust, but it isn’t long until percy interrupts: 

“are you finally gonna tell me what happened, or do i have to read it from some trashy gossip magazine like everyone else?”

“well, your dyslexic ass can barely read so….”

you look over at him briefly, and laugh when you see him stick his slightly-blue tongue out to you. 

“at least my dyslexic ass is actually decent at ancient greek. luke told me you failed the reading test, like, a million times.”

your heart twinges at the mention of your old friend. 

friend.

if you could still call him that. 

thankfully, percy doesn’t give you much room to dwell on the past, too focused on your drama-filled present.

“so, what is it? you got kicked out of the band? lost everything? have nowhere else to go?”

you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “i did not get kicked out.” 

“then, what happened?”

“just the usual.” you shrug. “monster attack, mortals who can’t see through the mist. i tried to explain it away after — something about how i saw someone in the crowd attack another person and i stepped in to help. most people bought it, but the media loves drama and the label’s worried i’m a flight risk now. apparently, everything will blow over if i just keep a low profile for the next few months. so….no. i didn’t lose everything.” you take a deep, like when anyone other than children of poseidon are about to go underwater and they’re not quite sure when they can come up for air. 

“i just don’t really have anywhere else to go,” you finish.

“damn.” percy offers you a blue shark gummy (or whale - you and percy had already debated the shape of the candy that sally packed for the trip, and the jury’s still out). you gratefully accept. “well, i know it’s not the best reason, but i’m excited to spend the summer together.”

despite everything, you find yourself smiling. 

“me too, kid.” 

“it’d give me a chance to kick your ass in sword-fighting.”

“you wish!” you nudge his shoulder, both of you giggling. once the laughter’s died down, you glance at percy once more. “hey – did you tell anyone i was coming?”

percy shakes his head. “why?”

you take a long swig of your drink until you’re on the brink of brain freeze. 

“no reason.”

it’s just after lunch when you arrive at camp half-blood. 

you weren’t sure what you were expecting — maybe not some futuristic technological developments that had been discovered within the years you were gone, but definitely not for camp to look pretty much exactly the same as when you left. 

instantly, you find comfort in the familiar scenes: a dragon, peleus, guarding the magical borders; dryads and satyrs picking strawberries in the fields next to the forest; chiron standing near the central guidepost, greeting and guiding every camper in the right direction.

chiron smiles down at percy and practically does a double take when his eyes land on you.

“mx. l/n! it has been a while. are you here to drop off your brother, or do you plan on staying for the summer?”

before you can answer, someone appears behind him. 

“perce! hey!” 

“hey, luke.”

luke gives him a side hug, and percy shoves him away with a laugh when he ruffles his hair. it’s then that luke acknowledges you, though he looks like that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“i thought i’d never see you again. what are you doing here? ”

chiron turns to you expectedly. “i believe you have yet to answer that question of mine as well.”

“staying for the summer…” you adjust the shoulder strap of your backpack, uneased by luke’s cold demeanor. “i hope that’s okay.”

“of course!” chiron’s smile grows wide, eyes crinkling. “you’ll resume your position as head counsellor of cabin 3.”

“so i’m dethroned? just like that?” percy guffaws.

you nudge percy’s shoulder. “fulfill the next great prophecy, and then we’ll talk.” 

percy rolls his eyes playfully. luke, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to appreciate your tongue-in-cheek remark. his jaw tightens, and he suddenly finds a deep interest in the clipboard he’s holding.

chiron clears his throat, likely sensing the tension. “yes, well, i’m sure you remember how things work around here. if not, mr. castellan has been keeping this ship afloat. he's always here to help.”

“always.” luke smiles, but it’s elastic, threatening to snap at any moment. someone calls his name, and he walks away to deal with whatever chaos is waiting for him.

summer — age 15

you weren’t exactly conscious when you first arrived at camp half-blood. 

apparently, coach hedge, a satyr and protector, found you just in time and had to practically drag you up half-blood hill after a particularly gruesome fury attack. 

when you woke up and saw luke sleeping next to you in a chair, his curls overgrown and falling onto his eyes, you thought you had died and gone to elysium. 

you took in your unfamiliar surroundings. some sort of infirmary, with only your best friend next to you, the one you hadn’t seen in almost a year since you’d parted ways. 

then, you remembered what was happening before you passed out; it was more likely that you were being tricked into a false sense of security by that fury, who definitely planned on devouring you later.

with a newfound sense of urgency, you decided it was time to get out of there before it was too late. you were reaching for your knife when you felt a hand grab your shoulder. without losing a second, you twisted your body around, weapon at the ready.

whoever it was watching over you sure looked like luke. he was wearing a bright orange shirt and leather cord necklace with one clay bead. another point of difference was the jagged scar that cut across his left cheek.

“it’s just me,” he said, gently. “you’re fine here. you’re safe.”

you weren’t convinced, kept your knife in front of you to keep distance. “prove it.” you narrowed your eyes. “tell me something only luke would know.”

“you’re left-handed.”

“that’s a great observation,” you scoff.

“storm is your favourite x-men character.”

“that’s a very popular opinion.”

“your aunt would make us mango lassi after swim camp when she got home from work,” luke tries for the third time. “and, my mom - she used to call you ‘starfish.’”

your heart skipped a beat.

that was the confirmation you needed. 

the knife dropped from your hand, clattered on the wooden floor, as you pulled luke in for a hug. you were greeted by a familiar scent, that pear shampoo luke loved because it made his hair so soft, mixed with the smell of fresh pine trees. 

“it’s really you,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

despite sleeping for gods know how long, you were exhausted. you rested your weight into luke, but he didn’t seem to care.

“it’s really you. i thought i’d never see you again.”

“where are we?” you asked, breaking away to face luke. you ignored the wooziness you felt throughout your body; luke seemed to sense it, his grip around you tightening. “are annabeth and thalia here, too? how’d you get here?” your thumb traced the unfamiliar scar on his face. “what happened? are you okay —”

“i-i’ll answer all your questions, but you lost a lot of blood.” luke guided you to lay back down in bed. “we’ll explain everything. just get some rest.”

a third scenario entered your mind: this was all a dream. you’d close your eyes and when you opened them again, luke would be gone. you’d be alone again.

you couldn’t let go of luke’s hand, even as he tucked you back into bed. you tugged his wrist, silently urging him to join you.

“will you stay with me?” you finally croaked when he continued standing. 

luke looked at you, and you nodded once as final confirmation. then, he removed his shoes and slipped into the bed next to you. it was luke, all sweet pear and soft curls and strong heartbeat, and you held on to him in fear that he might slip away.

“always,” he whispered.

during the orientation video you were later shown, you learned that camp half-blood’s motto is keeping young heroes safe (mostly) for over three millennia!  

luke had used that word, too. safe.

chiron told you this was to be your new home as he walked you to the poseidon cabin. he told you that you were safe now, though you noticed how the word almost got caught in his throat. he gave you a sad smile you didn’t quite understand.

you did wonder, at first, if those words were true: this place, a home for you and other children of gods. somewhere safe.

and, well.

you came to understand chiron’s general melancholy a few weeks later, and every week after that. he was used to training and sending heroes off to their potential death, and you would be no different. stolen lightning bolts, deadly quests, cryptic prophecies. a pending war between divine forces you had been entangled with long before you knew. heartache and betrayal and loss beyond measure. 

but, there were other things, too. 

annabeth, fitting in perfectly at the athena cabin, continued being her genius self, leading her team to victory every capture the flag game. she was extra patient in helping you with ancient greek, especially after chiron had given up.

chris rodriguez, luke’s half-brother, would tell you jokes from across the dining pavilion, knowing that you hated sitting alone at the poseidon table. michael yew, son of apollo, taught you how to play guitar at the bonfire one week; you’d ask for more and more lessons until you could start playing on your own. charles beckendorf made you a celestial bronze sword that shone like that burst of light when the sun hits the ocean at sunset. it transformed into a ring that you would never take off, unless in battle. you might not have gotten along with mr. d, but you spent free time picking fresh strawberries with his son, castor. you made matching friendship bracelets with silena beauregard, who was really the only person you confided in, about how you maybe possibly felt something other than friendship when it came to luke. she told you about her crush on clarisse larue, the daughter of ares whom you would always partner with during sparring practice. you taught ethan nakamura, who didn’t have his own cabin as the child of nemesis, how to properly hold a sword. thalia’s tree stood tall at the top of the hill where you almost bled to death, protecting you and everyone inside the magical borders. you, annabeth, and luke would share a picnic there every thursday.

you had been on the run for so long, always looking over your shoulder for monsters, sleeping with one eye open to be one step ahead of death, jumping from one place to the next so quickly to avoid danger.

so, yes. 

it was nice to stay in one place, where you knew you were as safe as demigods could be. it was nice to spend your time learning and training and laughing instead of just surviving. 

it was nice to have a place to call home. and people to call it home with.

now 

the first week passes in the blink of an eye, and it’s like you never left.

tie-dye, volleyball, strawberry picking, kitchen duty, and cabin inspection. 

luke has everyone on a tight schedule — one, you notice, conveniently places the two of you at opposite ends of camp at all times.

still, you catch up with clarisse and the stoll brothers, spend time with annabeth and percy, say hi to pollux and katie gardner and others you vaguely recognize as five years older than what you remember. there are also a lot of faces you don’t recognize at all.

of course, you try not to think about the faces you wished you could see: friends you grew up with and would never have a laugh with again, younger campers you had trained who would never grow up. all lost because of the gods and the titans and a prophecy you never asked to be a part of. 

it’s a side effect of being back here; their ghosts are harder to ignore.

again — trying not to think about it.

anyways.

climbing wall, armory, sword-fighting practice, archery field, and free time on the beach.

to conclude: capture-the-flag, a friday night camp-half blood tradition.

you’re praising annabeth for her latest strategy that led to blue team victory when you notice luke. he was also on the blue team, but instead of celebrating with the rest of you, he’s speaking to someone who’s wearing a red helmet. they seem to be in a heated discussion, one that luke is not wanting to continue. his tells are the same, after all these years: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching for an out.

you give it to him.

“sorry, i need to borrow this guy.” you say, grabbing luke’s wrist. “camp emergency.” 

if the person said anything, you didn’t hear it, because you were already dragging luke away from the crowd, towards the armory shed. 

“what’s the emergency?” luke wonders, brows furrowed in concern. he has deep shadows under his eyes, too. keeping the ship that is camp half-blood afloat has clearly taken a toll on him. 

“you wanting to get out of that conversation. you’re welcome.” you wink at him; luke flushes, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s annoyed, or if he's just flustered. “so, are you gonna keep ignoring me the whole summer?”

you put your helmet on one of the shelves and turn back to luke. you expected him to start removing his armor as well, but he doesn’t. he just glares at you, arms crossed over his chest.

so, he’s annoyed, then. 

“what do you expect?” luke hisses. “you can’t come back here and pretend that everything can be like it was when we were kids. things are different now, especially between us.”

you decide to take him up on his challenge. 

“oh? tell me, luke, what exactly is different between us?”

luke shakes his head in disbelief. you remove your chest plate, and that’s when the tattoo on your waist becomes visible. it’s a magnolia, like one of the flowers that bloomed on the tree outside may castellan’s house. 

something in luke softens, then. he sighs. 

“you could have at least given me a warning.”

he storms off, and you’re left half-armored, wondering what he meant by that.

you figure it out once a few of you settle down for a late-night, underground poker game, and you’re trying not to stare at luke’s hands.

it starts with you telling yourself that you’re just trying to predict what cards he’s holding, figure out if he’s bluffing, and if he’s about to lose everything he’d so confidently bet on. 

but then you notice the silver thumb ring that thalia got him for his 17th birthday. you notice an array of hair ties and elastic bands he keeps just in case a camper needs them, and woven bracelets given to him by his admirers. you notice how the tattoo on his wrist is covered. (it’s hidden well, but you know it’s there — you’d gotten one of a wing, the kind that might be found on a pair of magical red converse, at the same time)

you also notice the forest green painted on luke’s nails, the same shade worn by the person beside him.

van, the new head counsellor of the hephaestus cabin. you’d seen them at staff meetings, but you somehow did not notice that they were dating luke. 

he moved on — is that why luke needed a warning? is that what's changed between you?

it’s fine. whatever. so what if luke has a new partner? it’s not like the two of you were anything, officially. 

luke has a new partner. they’re wearing matching nail polish. they’re one of those couples.

well, van is also wearing a nickleback shirt and luke hates nickleback, unless that fundamental part of his personality changed, too. 

“yo, sailor neptune. you in or not?” travis brings you out of your daze, by using a nickname luke once called you.

back before becoming heroes, when you and luke were just kids, you’d watch cartoons in his living room on saturday mornings — x-men, she-ra: princess of power, teenage mutant ninja turtles, sailor moon. a lifetime ago.

you look around the table and see that everyone has been waiting for you to take your turn. even luke raises an eyebrow at you.

“yeah.” you clear your throat and throw some chips into the centre. “i’m in.”

you have decent enough cards to keep you in the game, and you’re comfortable that you can play the odds in your favor. the stoll brothers are good liars, you know that, and so is luke. malcolm pace is good at strategy, but thankfully not as good as his half-sister annabeth. pollux, who had invited you to the game, already folded along with butch, the son of iris who has a rainbow tattoo on his bicep to prove it. beside you, lou ellen, daughter of the hecate, contemplates her next move. clovis has fallen asleep, true to their title as head counsellor of the hypnos cabin. you can’t get a read on van, but they keep raising the stakes so confidently, and you’ve always liked a good challenge.

soon enough, it’s only you and van in the bet. when it comes time to reveal your cards, you curse yourself for overplaying your hand.

“good game,” van says to you as they collect their winnings. “you really had me going there.” 

“yeah.” your smile is strained, but it’s there nonetheless. “tried my best.”

“guess the curse of achilles doesn’t help as much in poker as it does in capture the flag.” 

“excuse me?” you raise an eyebrow.

luke, who had one arm casually draped around van’s chair the entire game, pulls away. “van, maybe don’t —”

“it’s not like it’s a secret, luke. they’re the prophecy kid, everyone knows they bathed in the river styx to be able to fight kronos. it’s camp legend.”

other than you, luke, and van, everyone else is occupied with something else. connor busies himself shuffling the cards, while lou ellen, malcolm, and pollux get up for more drinks. it seems like butch and travis have their own bet going to see who can balance the most chips on clovis’ forehead without waking him up. 

van waits for an answer. you’re a little queasy, and it’s not from the wine pollux managed to snag from his dad’s office. you’re suddenly faced with the reality that your life is reduced to a legend. you try your best to swallow that feeling, of being made into a greek tragic hero while your heart is still beating, and your life is still a mess.

“that’s relevant, why?”

“just that some people might consider the invulnerability thing an unfair advantage in physical competitions like capture the flag,” van explains. “increased strength and all that.” 

“that would mean nothing without a good strategy,” you counter.

“that’s what i said,” luke grumbles. 

you recognize van now as the person luke was arguing with earlier. it must have been about this. 

about you. 

“okay, y’all were best friends, so luke is obviously going to take your side.”

you’re not sure what stings more: friends or were. 

“although, he never really talks about you, which is weird because you’re, like, famous in and outside camp.”

ouch. that definitely stings the most. luke winces slightly, almost like he feels it, too.

“alright, alright,” connor interjects, shuffling the cards in his hands. “another round?” 

you’re the only one who decides to call it a night. everyone says goodbye; even van, who’s blissfully unaware of the effect their words had on you. luke avoids your gaze. the game continues without you.

percy’s snoring provides enough cover as you sneak into your shared cabin. you try to sleep, but it doesn’t come easy. 

you feel the spot underneath your rib, the one spot you’re truly vulnerable, ache.

summer — age 17

for the first time in your life, you couldn’t breathe underwater. you were swimming in acid, and your skin was melting away.

at least, that’s what it felt like to bathe in the river styx. achilles could have mentioned that, but all he gave was a cryptic warning about anchoring yourself to what makes you mortal.

you really tried at first. you thought about your friends at camp. you thought about percy, about your aunt back when she was still around. you even thought about may castellan, burnt cookies and saturday mornings.

the pain was too much, though. 

you were forgetting where you were, who you were. with every passing second, you were dissolving into nothing.

“if you wanted to go for a swim, you should have told me. i would have worn my swimsuit.”

luke’s voice echoed across the waves. you tilted your head up to see him sitting on the dock above you, his feet dangling into the water. he had rolled up his jeans to just above his ankles so they didn’t get wet, but his shoes were still on, which was a bit strange. the sun made his eyes look like burnt amber, his teeth sparkling as he smiled at you. 

okay. cool.

you were at camp. it was mid-afternoon, free period. the two of you had been at the edge of the lake, until you became impatient and jumped in, fully clothed. behind him, you could see that annabeth, thalia, and percy were waiting for you on the shore. they were each wearing orange camp shirts, which was also strange; you couldn’t remember a time when you were all there together, as campers.

“we better go, sailor,” luke said, amusement laced throughout his words. “come on. those cabins aren’t gonna inspect themselves.”

luke extended his hand to you. when you hesitated, he added:

“i can’t do this without you. will you stay with me?”

you reached up and grabbed luke’s hand.

always.

you emerged from the water, catching your breath as you collapsed on the sand. 

“oh gods. are you okay?”

your cousin, nico diangelo, son of hades, knelt down next to you. he tried to check your pulse, but you waved him away. your eyes searched for luke, but he wasn’t there, despite feeling the ghost of his hand in your own. 

oh.

you weren’t at camp; you were in the underworld. it was nico’s idea for you to take on the curse of achilles so that you’d be strong enough to face kronos. 

“did it work?”

you got up, a bit uneasy on your feet at first. nico helped steady you, his hands cold on your skin.

you felt….stronger wasn’t the right word. you felt adrenaline coursing through your veins, like you could swim across the biggest ocean without pausing once. like you could defeat an entire army and not break a sweat. maybe even take down a titan or two while you're at it.

you needed to see luke again, to meet him and the others in manhattan before it was too late.

“let’s hope so.”

now

you always loved mornings at camp half-blood. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water peaceful.

the morning after that impromptu poker game, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. you’re awake after a rather sleepless night, deciding to go for a quick run before breakfast. you get dressed and grab your mp3 player, as quietly as you can to avoid waking up percy (who, truthfully, could probably sleep through a hurricane anyways). 

you jog from one end of the beach to the other. you set a steady rhythm, somewhere between the beat of your music and the sound of waves gently washing over the shore. when you make your way back down to where you started, you notice someone sitting nearby.

luke doesn’t say anything when you first sit next to him. he’s wearing a dark blue hoodie over his usual orange shirt, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. you imagine that he confiscated it from a camper on the way here. 

“morning,” he finally whispers, eyes fixed towards the ocean. 

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time luke spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply. 

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, luke surprises you by taking a lighter out of his pocket. he lights the cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you. 

it’s such an odd, though not unwelcomed, gesture. a peace offering, you figure, but it’s just so not luke that you can’t help yourself.

“is golden boy luke castellan, offering me contraband? what planet am i on?”

the hint of a smile creeps onto his face. “like i said: things are different now,” he echoes his words from the night before, but this time you don’t sense any hostility.

you take a drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

you decide to offer a peace offering as well, and present to him one of your earbuds — he accepts. you have to slide across the sand to move closer to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

i’m feelin’ rough, i’m feeling raw / i’m in the prime of my life….

as the song plays, you glance to see luke nodding along, tapping a finger on his knee to the beat. he lets the cigarette smoulder in his other hand.

we’re fated to pretend / to pretend / yeah, yeah, yeah….

when the song is over, luke turns to you. 

“new group?” he brings the cigarette to his lips, then gives it back to you.

“kinda.” you inhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs before explaining. “this is considered they’re breakthrough album. they’re from connecticut, actually.”

“oh, yeah? guess that’s where all the talent is from.”

luke bumps his shoulder against yours knowingly. you feel your cheeks heat up at his praise, his witty sincerity.

this is familiar — you and luke, at the beach, sharing music. it’s familiar, and for a few moments, you can act like there isn’t a wall between you, of unresolved feelings and harsh words. you can pretend that nothing has changed.

“you know, nickleback are from connecticut, too. which means you just called them talented.”

luke coughs on some smoke as he exhales with a laugh. “what? no i didn’t!”

“in a roundabout way. i always knew you were an undercover fan,” you tease.

“i have better taste than that.”

“do you?”

“you’re fucking with me,” luke deadpans.

you crack a smile. “yeah, i’m fucking with you.”

“gods, you scared me for a second,” he laughs, and you can’t help but follow. luke glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his dark brown curls, the ever-changing color of his eyes. golden, radiant. 

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure van would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope luke doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, luke still knows you too well, whether he likes it or not.

“you don’t get to do that.”

“do what?”

luke scoffs. “be jealous.” 

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, lu. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your cabin, the beach and luke further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

[azsazz]

In Safe Arms (Part 2)

Bodyguard!Azriel x Celebrity!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Hey ! Ik u are hella busy and I am so proud of ur for ur publication , but if u ever get time could u do a Celebrity reader x bodyguard az?

Warnings: A little PTSD for reader alluding to a horrific incident but not much described besides blood.

Word Count: 3,702

Notes: Happy New Year my loves!

(Part 1)

_________________________________________

You’re jolted awake at the rocking of your SUV dipping into a pothole.

Your spine straightens on its own accord and your bleary eyes snap open, frantically scanning the space, on high alert. Your heart pounds in your chest as you desperately try to take in your surroundings. Outside the window, there is nothing but darkness, the skies and scenery draped in midnight-hour black.

It takes you more than a second to realize where you are. In the back of an SUV on your way to your parent’s charity gala that you cannot miss. Except that the weather in New York took a turn for the worse, a heavy blizzard that no news stations mentioned before you fell into an exhausted sleep last night. No planes in, and no planes out.

Which meant that you had to find alternative transportation to make it to Chicago before the gala, which meant that Azriel had to arrange safe travel for you to get there on time, his job already on the line from his mistake only days ago.

Not the kiss. Not the weak fucking moment he had in the bathroom of your suite after a passerby tossed an unknown object at you that split the skin above your brow.

Your parents don’t know about the kiss. You tried to convince Azriel that it wasn’t worth telling them, and he tried to convince you that it couldn’t happen again.

His eyes had been hard. He’d been wearing that same stoic mask he showed up on his first day with. “We can’t do that again,” he’d said, like the kiss was transactional. Like he didn’t feel the passion that lit your entire body up, the wanting in your bones.

No kisses have happened in the days since.

Your eyes connect with Azriel’s through the rear-view mirror and the sight of your infallible bodyguard has you relaxing against the warm leather seat, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Azriel says softly. His rough, gravelly tone sharpens his apology.

“It’s fine,” you brush off, but it’s not fine. Nothing that has anything to do with you is ever fine.

Silence takes over the car. He hasn’t even turned on the radio to keep him company while you slept. You frown at the thought, then realize that silence is probably what Azriel is used to, what he prefers.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you admit.

Azriel’s gaze stays focused on the road, not another vehicle in sight. “You needed it,” he defends, and you shrug.

“Where are we?”

“A few hours away from the Ohio border,” Azriel answers. You glance at the neon glow of the clock. It reads just past one in the morning, which means that you still have seven or so hours of driving to go, depending on how bad the road conditions are.

You’re supposed to be in Chicago by ten a.m. for brunch with your parents and the charity director for the gala, but with all of the delays that have happened since New York, you’d much rather spend as much time as you can away from the crazy normal that is your life. This unexpected road trip feels like a breath of fresh air that you didn’t know you needed.

You squint, peering around the passenger seat. The roads are clear from snow, piled high on the sides of the highway, but that doesn’t mean that there can’t be patches of black ice to look out for.

You decide to keep Azriel company. You don’t want to be sleeping the night away peacefully while he navigates through four states to get you back to your parents. You know for a fact that he’s gone days without speaking a single word nor getting an ounce of sleep, but right now, with the dark of night blanketing the car, it feels cruel.

Azriel protests when you unbuckle and climb over the console, claiming the front passenger seat. His hands are white-knuckled around the steering wheel and he tries to keep his focus on the road, though you do catch him sneaking a protective peek over at you more than once. It makes you want to snort with amusement, there’s no threat here, unless he hits a patch of aforementioned black ice, but you trust Azriel with your life, so you should be fine.

And you are. Azriel’s shoulders don’t lose a strand of tension until your buckle slides locked with a click. Even then, he can hardly relax. “You shouldn’t be up here.”

“And you shouldn’t be driving this late at night,” you retort easily, kicking your feet up on the dash. Azriel’s hand comes down over your knee before you can fully prop up your legs, guiding you in a gentle yet stern matter to keep your feet on the floor. You follow his command so that he doesn’t banish you back to the back seat.

He hardly acknowledges you, focusing on the task at hand. Delivering you in one piece to Chicago in time to arrive at all of your scheduled meetings. He will not fail your family a second time.

With his focus pinned on the road, you drink your bodyguard in. His eyes flicker from the rearview mirror to the side mirrors to the windshield in meticulous rotation. You trail your gaze down the straight slope of his nose to his pink, plush lips. You haven’t stopped thinking about his mouth on yours since the desperate kiss you shared in your hotel room two nights ago, and a warm heat coils low in your stomach at the memory, waking you up.

“You look tired,” you murmur, distractedly. He does. The gray circles under his eyes aren’t the only thing giving Azriel’s exhaustion away. It’s in the way he blinks slowly, but forces his eyes wide. It’s in the way he drums his fingers against the steering wheel for something to focus on other than the road. It’s in the empty cup of coffee stacked on his old ones. He’s stopped thrice tonight for a caffeine boost and you slept though them all. He’d be jonesing for another if you hadn’t climbed up into the seat beside him. His entire body is tightened with alert now that you’re here.

He isn’t tired, he’s wired. Three large black coffees might have been too much, but it’s your presence that has Azriel more alert than anything. His skin heats at the feeling of your eyes on him, can feel every movement you’re making from across the console.

He taps his fingers against the wheel to expel the nervous energy. You wonder what’s going on because Azriel’s resolve never cracks like this. Everything was fine when you were in the backseat, asleep. He didn’t have to interact, possibly mislead you. He was free to dig into his mind, overthink every little thing that’s happened between the both of you since this little journey began.

He knows you too well. He has to. He’s read your file, like he does with all of his clients. Somehow, you’ve managed to worm your way into his mind, deeper than a flesh wound.

“I’m fine,” he assures. He rubs a hand down his jaw, the short stubble tickling his skin. He needs to shave.

“We should stop for the night,” you protest, catching glimpse of a sign on the side of the highway that shows that you’re only a few miles away from a town to get gas and sleep.

“We need to be in the city early,” Azriel refutes. He chances a glance over at you. Your arms are crossed over your chest and you’re wearing that stern, determined look on your face that makes his cock twitch in his pants. He keeps himself carefully still. “We don’t have time to stop.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that we stop for the night, Azriel,” you reply. “I was telling you that we are going to stop for the night.”

He should protest, he knows that he should. He doesn’t know anything about this town, if it’s filled with lunatics or people who’d try and harm either one of you for your expenses. The decked-out, expensive SUV is a sign screaming rich.

You don’t remove your glare from him until he veers the vehicle onto the exit ramp.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“I’ll take the chair,” Azriel says, eyeing the single bed in the room. “I won’t be sleeping anyway.”

Your nose scrunches. You stare at the chair for a long second and return your gaze to Azriel’s. The entire point of stopping for the night was to rest, to let the storm that caught up to you play out and hopefully finish the drive with clearer conditions.

Something clenches in your chest. You’re not sure if it’s your heart or your stomach or both.

He won’t sleep because there is only one bed.

“So, you’re going to sit in that chair,” you repeat like you don’t understand. You don’t, and you point to the faded green armchair. The rests are made of a blonde wood and the back of the chair sits so straight that there’s no chance anyone could actually fall asleep in it. “And do what? Watch me sleep?”

His jaw sharpens, the muscles flexing as he clenches his teeth. His hazel eyes follow the point of your finger for a fleeting second before returning to yours.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s watched you sleep.

“I’ll turn the chair toward the window,” Azriel answers like this is a solution. If it makes you uncomfortable, he will even wait in the car.

The real solution would be for him to get in the fucking bed with you and sleep for a few hours. You saw the stack of empty coffee cups in the car. You saw the strain in his posture, the way he was forcing himself from giving into his exhaustion.

A disbelieving noise crawls up your throat. He’s so fucking stubborn. It’s not like you’re both eighteen and the prospect of touching looms over you. No, you’re both adults. You’ve seen him sans clothes, even if it was an accident, and Azriel has been in the room with you during fittings with designers your father fully didn’t trust. He may have been turned toward the window, you toward the mirror, but there was always the thrill that maybe he’d peek over his shoulder, give you a long once-over, that maybe some sort of want would infiltrate his hard, hazel eyes.

You’ve imagined it more than once.

“Azriel,” you scold. You busy yourself with moving your luggage to the empty desk in the corner. The table wobbles as you set your things on it, but it stays upright. You quickly move back toward the bed and tug the blankets back, doing your best to reign in your cringe as you think about the possibilities of what could have gone on in this dingy motel room on the side of the interstate. You’re used to luxurious, five-star hotels catering to your every need, not rundown motels that reek of mothballs and crime.

Ghosts. Are there ghosts?

“We stopped here specifically so you could sleep,” you try to argue, but you sound distracted, and Azriel’s gaze snaps to yours, his shoulders straightening like he’s going into protective mode.

He catches you staring dazedly at the bed. Your fingers are curled tightly into the blankets, lips pressed together tightly. Your chest is rising and falling more quickly, and he rounds the bed, coming to your aid.

Azriel knows the life you’re used to living. What you must be thinking about a place like this. He could say something mean, mention how spoiled you are, how it’s just like the hotels you usually stay in, minus the amenities. He wants to tell you that people have done worse things in nicer rooms, especially the ones you tend to stay in, but he knows that your frozen features are due to something else, a dark memory that edges up every once in a while.

“Let me get you some fresh blankets,” he murmurs. His hand comes down around your wrist gently, drawing you slowly from your daze. The heat of his body sears through the thin fabric of your pajamas, and you latch onto that as you squeeze your eyes shut and force the memories away.

“No,” you choke, sounding much more put-off than you’d like. Azriel knows your past, you remind yourself, he knows everything about you, this isn’t you looking weak. You’re only human. “It’s fine, I—” you swallow roughly as a smatter of red conjures behind your eyelids. You try hard not to flinch, but it’s there, the blood on the walls like some fucking mural.

You look down at your hands, painted with the same crimson. Your clothes, and as you drag your eyes up to the bed—

“Hey,” Azriel snaps, hand planted firmly on your cheek, tearing you from the awful memory. You blink and your eyes latch onto his worried hazel ones. You didn’t even notice Azriel turning you around, how your hand went from clutching the sheets to fisting in his black button down. “You’re not there, you hear me?”

You nod because your throat is too tight to do anything else. Tears brim your eyes and Azriel wipes an escaped drop that drags down the apple of your cheek. His touch is too soft, too tender.

You pull away, ripping yourself from his hands. You turn toward the bed and don’t allow the dreadful recollection another thought. You slip between the sheets and try to hide your trembling movements by tugging the blankets all the way up to your chin.

You can feel Azriel’s presence behind you. You always can, whenever he’s in the room. It’s like the two of you are magnets. There is an attraction to him that you can’t place.

He knows that you won’t be sleeping now. That the harrowing memory of what you’ve been through lingers in the surface of your mind and if you should fall asleep, it will only haunt you worse.

Azriel’s known about your past, the terror that you’re trying so desperately to run from, to forget. It chases you like death is on your heels, ready to grip you with its bony fingers and drag you into the dark. He’s been briefed on how you might respond when the trauma inevitably claws its way back, but this is his first time experiencing it happening to you. How it grips you around the throat and threatens to consume you.

His jaw aches from grinding it so tight. The one thing that he can’t protect you from is the one thing he wants to protect you from the most.

He has a job, and this is part of it, he tells himself as he kicks his shoes off.  

“Shove over.”

“What?” You ask, confused. You peer over your shoulder to see Azriel shrugging off his jacket. It leaves him in a black t-shirt that clings to his body exactly the way you want to. You never thought you’d be jealous of a piece of clothing, yet here you are. You carefully tear your gaze away.

“You need to sleep and I know your stubborn, spoiled ass isn’t going to do it if I’m not doing it with you” he pauses. That sounded so fucking wrong, but Azriel trudges on. “So, shove over.”

You fight the smile that threatens to curve your lips at his comment. If it was coming from anyone else, you’d be offended, but you know that Azriel doesn’t mean it as anything other than a joke. You scoot further toward the edge of the bed, shivering at the cool sheets. Your goosebumps only prickle further when Azriel’s weight hits the mattress, and the warmth of his body washes over you.

You try not to let your breathing shallow as he settles himself in. He’s not even touching you, for Mother’s sake, and yet you’re responding as if you’re a teenager lying beside her childhood crush.

“Don’t think about it,” Azriel’s voice startles you.

You might smile at the rough demand in Azriel’s tone if you weren’t feeling like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for someone to come up behind you and shove you off.

“Easier said than done,” you mutter. When the light flickers out, your body locks, and the memory explodes in your mind like a fucking gunshot wound.

“I said, don’t think about it.” Azriel’s voice is a gruff command in your ear, snapping you back into reality. Your heart is pounding against your ribcage, and you can hear the struggle in your lungs as you try to gulp down what little air makes it through your constricting esophagus.

Hands wind their way around your waist and you don’t have a second to struggle before Azriel tugs you back into his chest, molding his body against your back. A warm, heavy arm is draped across your side, and his hand finds your shaking ones beneath the blankets, offering you a lifeline.

You clutch onto him. Azriel murmurs softly in your ear but you can’t make out the words. They’re in a different language. French or Italian or Spanish, you think. You sure that if he was speaking English, you still wouldn’t understand with the way that you’re focusing on fighting past the demons in your head.

The room is pitch black. You always sleep with a light on, even if it’s just the screen of your phone lighting up the darkness. You haven’t been in a blackened room like this since that night, and Azriel knows it, which is why, with some maneuvering, he turns on the flashlight on his phone and sets it on the bedside table, illuminating the room in an awful white light that has you all but melting into his body.

“Thank you,” you whisper. It sounds much too loud in the quiet of your motel room.

“Go to sleep,” he answers plainly. His bluntness almost makes you smile.

But you can’t go to sleep, and not just because of the lingering aftershocks of your memory. As those slowly eke away, you focus on the feeling of Azriel’s body pasted tightly against yours.

You swear you can feel every muscle that is packed onto his hard body through your clothes. Your ass is nestled against his front, and you want to wiggle oh-so badly, to writhe against him in the hopes of feeling what he’s working with down there.

He’s still fully clothed, you notice. Didn’t think twice about climbing into the bed behind you to console you. You wonder if he’s uncomfortable before realizing that with his military trained past, he must have slept in worse conditions than this before.

Which makes you cringe. Here you were, freaking out about a fucking motel when there are people who are going through much worse. Embarrassment flares your body and you squirm uncomfortably.

Azriel’s arms lock tighter around you, and he tugs you closer. You didn’t think there was a closer, but there is. His breath fans across your ear when he speaks. “If you keep moving like that, we’re going to have a lot more than a blizzard and stiff fucking sheets to worry about.” He sounds callous, but there’s a strain to his tone, one that has all of the fiery feelings in your veins converging between your thighs.

Your movements halt immediately. “Sorry,” you say, but there’s no sleeping now. Not when his words are out there, hanging in the air. That if you kept moving, you’d have a different kind of stiffness to think about. One that you’re much more interested in than the starchy sheets.

You close your eyes anyway, trying to fight off the interest stirring low in your gut. The image of Azriel naked, rolling on top of you drifts into your mind. Your pussy clenches when he slowly parts your legs and flashes you a devious smile before lowering himself between your legs.

Movement has your eyes jolting open. You’re holding your body so tightly that Azriel would be terrible at his job if he didn’t know that you weren’t asleep like you should be.

“Sleep,” Azriel reminds you brusquely. His hand splays across your stomach, his thumb stroking across the soft fabric of your shirt in a soothing motion, or what would be a soothing motion if you weren’t three seconds from creating the foulest dirty thoughts about him or two seconds away from actually doing something about it.

“Okay,” you breathe, trying to force annoyance into your words instead of the arousal that slips out anyway. Azriel’s thumb falters and you swear you feel something against the curve of your ass twitch. Your breath catches in your throat and now you know that the movement against your hind wasn’t a part of your imagination.

The noise you let slip has blood pooling into Azriel’s cock. He refuses to move, refuses to do anything except squeeze his eyes shut and practice the techniques he learned in the Royal Marines to keep himself in fucking check. He promised that after the kiss in the bathroom that he would keep away from you, that this relationship would stay professional only.

Professional feels so fucking far away from this.

You find the courage to whisper. “Azriel?”

He grunts in response, to let you know he’s awake and listening, and you like the sound all too much. “That doesn’t sound like sleeping.”

“I’m not sure that I can,” you admit.

Azriel sighs softly, his breath tickling your neck. “You didn’t even try,” he answers simply, but his fingers begin tracing a soft, soothing pattern across your forearm. You latch onto his hypnotic touch, wishing it would move further south. “Just think of better things. I’m here, and you’ll be alright.”

I’m here, and you’ll be alright. Because he’s your bodyguard, your protector, and he won’t ever let anything happen to you, mentally or physically.

You shut your eyes and think about those words, the soft touch from a man so callous and strong, long until you fall asleep.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hi, I'm curious about why you think that voldemort wanted to recruit lily potter as a death eater. Is it because the prophecy said "thrice defied him"? (defy also means escape, defeat, challenge, disobey etc. but i dont think it means deny) I don't get why someone would try to recruit a muggleborn to commit a genocide against other muggleborns and muggles. Like, nobody asked hermione to join in the 2nd war. And how would the other pureblooded death eaters react to that? wouldn't voldemort lose a little bit credibility with that? Make it make sense?

Hi 👋

First of all, "defy" can 100% mean they chose not to join the Death Eaters:

As they resisted/disregarded Voldemort's offer, I think this is a valid usage of the word.

Second, this idea came from this JKR interview:

MA: What about the three times-- The thrice-defying of Voldemort? JKR: Of James and Lily? MA: Of Neville's parents. Well, James and Lily, too. JKR: It depends how you take defying, doesn't it. I mean, if you're counting, which I do, anytime you arrested one of his henchmen, anytime you escaped him, anytime you thwarted him, that's what he's looking for. And both couples qualified because they were both fighting. Also, James and Lily turned him down, that was established in "Philosopher's Stone". He wanted them, and they wouldn't come over, so that's one strike against them before they were even out of their teens.

(Source)

Now, I tried to find the PS quote JKR referenced, and this is what I could find:

“Now, yer mum an’ dad were as good a witch an’ wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an’ girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst’ry is why You- Know-Who never tried to get ‘em on his side before…probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin’ ter do with the Dark Side. “Maybe he thought he could persuade ‘em…maybe he just wanted ‘em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an’ — an’ —”

(PS, Ch4)

So, we know Hagrid didn't know of any recruitment attempt, if it happened, or why Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow. And it's another case of JKR not remembering what she wrote in post-book interviews, and another thing she didn't really think through.

Because Hagrid really doesn't know much, his statment isn't all that relaiable, and even then, he suggests Voldemort would've wanted to recruit Lily if he thought he could, so really — it's up to personal headcanon and wheather you take JKR's word of god on the matter as canon or not.

All the "thrice defying" has a lot of space for headcanon and speculation to come in since JKR didn't really think it through. Personally, I am not a fan of the idea that "every arrest of a DE" counts as "defy", but I'm not opposed to the idea that Voldemort offered James and Lily to join him as teens (when they were still at school, probably).

What's important to note for further speculation is that Voldemort doesn't really believe in blood purity.

He's a half-blood, and he thinks he's better than all his followers. Voldemort repeatedly shows he doesn't actually care about implementing anti-Muggleborn laws, his followers are invested in no, is he interested in ruling at all (a. He wasn't in the UK when the ministry fell. b. He remained so unpresent that Umbridge could walk around with his Horcrux and claim it as her own family heirloom without dying. c. Lupin implies all the muggleborn registration laws from DH weren't around the first time, again, Voldemort isn't there, these are laws his followers made. He, personaly, doesn't give a shit and doesn't care if muggleorns, muggles, purebloods or whoever lives or dies. It doesn't concern him in the slightest. He actually personally kills more purebloods than muggleborns). If he found a muggleborn talented and powerful enough to be worth his time, he wouldn't mind that he's/she's a muggleborn. Voldemort cares first and foremost about power:

There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it…

(PS, Ch17)

If you have power, anything else doesn't really matter. And even power is optional if you're useful to him in some other way. Talking about PS, Quirrell was a weak wizard and the Muggle Studies Professor — but he was useful, and in the right place at the right time, so Voldemort recruited him.

Hagrid clearly believes in PS Voldemort would recruit muggleborns, and JKR mentioned it in other interviews, so she is pretty consistent about that:

‘Snape’s ancestry is hinted at. He was a Death Eater, so clearly he is no Muggle-born, because Muggle-borns are not allowed to be Death Eaters, except in rare circumstances.’

(Edinburgh Book Festival, 15 August 2004)

By the time he would be potentially recruiting super-talented muggleborns, he would have a lot of control over his followers. We see he has no problem torturing and punishing them, and from how Karkaroff and other DE respond to Voldemort in GoF, it's clear his treatment of them we see is nothing new.

So, if Voldemort says the muggleborn stays, some DE are definitely going to feel various ways about it — but none of them are going to question him, that would be suicide. It would cause some unrest, but the likes of Lucius Malfoy would shut up out of self-preservation, and the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange would justify Voldemort's behaviour in their head somehow.

So, I don't see that part as contradictory at all, actually.

And I don't think Hermione is a good analog here. Hermione is known to be good friends with Harry Potter, and she has done nothing to attract Voldemort’s attention besides being around Harry — Lily, as a young witch, probably didn't do anything noteworthy either, but my headcanon is that Snape vouched for her.

We know Voldemort recruited as young as 16-year-olds:

and when he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve . . .

(DH, Ch10)

So, it's possible, and likely, Snape and Mulciber, and others were already getting involved with Voldemort in their 5th year. By SWM (end of the Mauraders' 5th year), Snape would've already been 16 (born January 9th, 1960), and possibly already a Death Eater officially, or about to become one that summer. Lily's talents might have been vouched for by him, the fact that she was part of the Slug Club, which Voldemort would be familiar with, will be another mark on her talent.

(James is easier to explain why he would be a potential recruit as a rich pureblood who likes hexing people)

So, I can see it working, though I don't think it's super likely. But I like the idea that the first time James and Lily defied Voldemort was each on their own separately, before they were a couple — I don't know, I just like that as a concept. That they defied him on their own and not just together.

[lovscb97]

synopsis: nerd!chan headcannons. that’s it. that’s the tweet.

tags: nerd!chan x cheerleader!fem!reader, fluff, meet cute, nerd!chan being in love, mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, nerd!chan being an inexperienced cutie, etc

wc: 1.48k

add. notes: while you guys wait for nerd!chan pt. 2 as i need to complete writing it and cannot really Do that w/ my current busy schedule (im nearing the end of first sem so i have lots of assignments #sad), i thought i’d treat u guys to some headcannons about him in the nerd!chan universe :3 enjoy!

part 1 / part 2 / drabble #1

. . . 

#one. meeting you for the first time

chan has always been a shy kid. he doesn’t stray from his introverted bubble of close friends that he’s either grown up with or gotten to know through extra-curriculars, nor does he ever participate in social activities like parties the way most people in his university do. it’s his firm belief that he has no means to engage in stuff that will, in his words, lower his intelligence and distract him from his studies. he’s perfectly content remaining the way he is; a social outcast (according to changbin at least), because at the least in that sense he’s gaining something from not wallowing in alcohol every other night.

you, on the other hand, are actively always taking part in gatherings as such, having fun with your cheer girls and drinking to drown out the bitter reality of life (although you’d never admit that out loud). it’s your firm belief that college is for letting loose and having fun before entering the corporate world, and what better way to do that than to grind against strangers and throw away all your responsibilities for a night (or ten)? you don’t have too much regard for your studies, but you do have a strong policy on your social life.

it’s because of these reasons that in terms of both hierarchy and hobbies, you and chan couldn’t be any more different. you’re two sides of two separate coins, and if you were to swap lifestyles, you’re sure neither of your friends would recognise you both. what he likes, you loathe, and what you like, he loathes. so why did you do mesh so well? why did you two even begin this charade? 

and how in the everloving fuck did chan even get to know you in the first place? 

it all started before the first day of the first semester. orientation was about to finish right around the corner, and everyone was obviously buzzing with excitement on commencing their first term in university. one guy made the mistake of mentioning throwing a party at some nearby club, and it quickly spread to the entire group of first year students. naturally, it spread to you and your friend group, and it also just happened to spread to the small circle of chan’s best friends, who dragged his ass to the party the day of despite his incessant complaining that he wanted nothing to do with what was happening.

that was, until he saw you.

you’d had one too many shots to drink, stumbling into the balcony after having been separated from your friends and coincidentally landing up where chan just so happened to be admiring the scenery. he’d caught you in his arms as you lost your footing, heart racing and ears reddening at the sound of your drunk giggles. “i bet you’re a ladies man.” you’d teased him, raising a finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, which only made him stutter even more. 

your friends eventually did come to find you and take you back with them, barely even batting an eye at chan who tried to make sure you were being cared for properly as his pleas and tips on handling a hangover the next day fell upon deaf ears. and when jisung and changbin came up to find him, he was completely out of it, stuck in a daze as he repeated all the random information about yourself that you’d rambled to him in his head. he’d pressed a single hand to his chest whilst ignoring his friend’s questions about what the hell he was doing, instead focusing on the feeling the rapid rhythmic beating of his heart under his palm.

it was that night, that chan's love for the moon transcended to his love for you.

#two. kissing you for the first time

chan is just as much of a nerd as they come in every cliche. 

when he met you, when he got to know you, and when he first began whatever twisted relationship he currently has with you, he was completely inexperienced. he knew next to nothing about pleasing a girl that wasn’t acquired from his knowledge of scouring the internet, and he also knew next to nothing about the world of pleasure he was in for. when you’d first leaned in to initiate a kiss, he’d merely pushed you away gently, gasping over his words as he tried to explain to you how new this was all to him.

but you didn’t mind. you didn’t mind that he’d never even gotten close to holding a girl’s hand unless he counted his elementary school crush, and you didn’t mind that he barely knew what to do with you. you didn’t mind that you had to teach him the ropes of everything (mostly because it fed into your corruption kink), and you didn’t mind it even when you had to reassure him you weren’t going to judge him as you got him to relax before leaning in once more.

and when your lips had touched his for the first time, chan swore he felt sparks fly. you were soft, and sweet, and real. instead of being a mere figment of his imagination or the skin of the back of his hand, your presence was electrifying. the way your mouth had moved against his, the way you’d let out a soft sigh at the feeling of it pressing back into him, and the way you’d pulled away and flashed him the prettiest smile he’d ever damn seen in his life before, it was all so dizzying. 

“you’re a pretty good kisser.” you’d winked at him afterwards, and he felt himself flush under your gaze which only made you double over in laughter. you’d even leaned in once more to plant another soft kiss on his lips before motioning for him to continue with whatever demand and supply topic he was teaching you about. chan didn’t give a fuck about that anymore though, the only thought on his mind the entirety of the rest of your study session how to get better at kissing you, and when he could look forward to doing it the next time.

#three. what he likes about you

if anyone asked chan what he likes about you, he’d be at a complete loss for words. not because there’s nothing he can come up with beyond superficial reasons, but because there’s too much that he has to say and isn’t sure of where to actually start.

chan isn’t even sure when he fell for you in the first place. yes, when he first met you that fated night on the balcony at that premature freshmen party he caught feelings for you, but those feelings snowballed and grew into something much larger as the days went on. each night was filled with replaying your conversation (although he barely spoke out of his shock upon seeing you) and wondering what it would be like to be in your presence once more. it got to the point that his friends began asking him why he was spacing out so much during classes and staring at one specific section of the lecture hall, but he didn’t have the courage to admit it was because of you sitting there. 

to simply put it, chan likes everything and nothing about you. he likes the fact that you’re nobody like he’s ever met before, you have a fire to yourself that nobody comes close to claiming, but you laugh sweet enough to extinguish that flame at the same time. something about you draws him in, tantalising and captivating in nature but all too consuming to the point he can’t get you out of his brain no matter how hard he tries. the time you came up to him to ask if he’d help you with tutoring, his mind almost short circuited because holy shit, were you actually talking to him in real life instead of the made up interactions he plays out with you before going to sleep? and you knew his name and who he was on top of that? it was too good of a dream to be true.

that’s precisely why chan can’t let go of you now. even if it hurts him, even if it’s painstakingly hard to be hidden from the public eye whilst being together with you, he doesn’t want to let go of you. because letting go of you entails that he’s giving up on his aspirations of being with you, and chan is nothing next to a quitter. he’ll have you in any way he can, even if that means not abiding by his friends’ requests to just let you go and being kept in the dark by your lack of confrontation for your feelings.

at the end of the day, chan is head over heels for you, and that’s something that’ll never change. 

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[h2llish]

⁀➷ ˖ tough love

notes ─── we love rollo <3 so this is my contribution to @cloudcountry 's event!

ROLLO FLAMME ─── if you don't care, you're not sure anyone will.

warnings ☆ fluff, some comfort, can be read platonic or romantic, gender neutral, reader is not yuu, playful teasing, lowercase intended, takes place after the event btw

the sky had become dashed with yellows and pinks as the sun began to set, and many of your peers began to retire from the rush of class. you would've liked to join them, but like clockwork, your routine left you climbing the belltower as the time on your watch struck six, with your books abandoned at the bottom for you to come back to. (if anyone stumbled across your belongings, they knew to leave it be, far too used to the routine of you and their president.)

you believe you had come to recognize every miniscule difference in the planks with how often you'd climb them, navigating the corners like your body had memorized every turn. and perhaps it has, since you've been climbing the belltower for more than a year every day to meet him at the top.

"there they are!"

you smiled and tilted your head respectfully as you reached the top of the tower, greeting the gargoyles that lived with the bell. they'd come to recognize your face, knowing you by name, and always waiting for you to reach the top at the same time, every day. ─ you'd only ever been late once, when you hadn't been aware of the quicker passage to the top. but since then, you'd always be there, even when you fell ill with a cold, or found it difficult to walk after a bad bout of food poisoning (specific, perhaps, but it did happen, and yet you still came at the exact time in which you promised you would. even if that did lead you to receiving a long scolding).

one of the gargoyles, who had always been more talkative, and seemed much older compared to the rest, waited to gesture over to the bell, where you could just barely see someone sitting on the other side. "we're especially quiet today."

"is that so." you sighed, gripping the bag on your shoulder with a lazy shrug, nodding at the gargoyle in your thanks.

rollo hardly batted an eye when you took up spot beside him, setting the bag down safely, and leaning back on your hands with an exaggerated sigh. "you know, having to climb all these stairs every day, gets exhausting." you said ─ a jab, you always made sure to poke at him. it was a test, something you've done since you were kids. you'd learned that his reactions to your jokes always told you how he was feeling, how open he was to talk to you.

"then stop climbing every day." he replied, rolling his eyes but not giving you the satisfaction of a glance your way.

you gasped, as dramatic as he'd known you to be, "but this is my time where i have you all to myself! i'm offended you'd say such a thing!"

"you're ridiculous."

"says the guy who is brooding all alone here in a tower." you snickered, and he finally looked at you, sending you a glare. but you hardly felt any anger behind it; at least not at you. ─ the anger you were used to seeing since the incident was always directed elsewhere, stewing, grieving.

"i'm not brooding." he scowled, and you raised your eyebrows, as if challenging that claim.

"sure you're not." you clicked your tongue and grinned.

he was talkative today, expressive ─ a rare occurrence with him. you'd consider it your lucky day if you didn't know he's only ever like this when his guard is down because he's simply too tired to keep it up. he's known you since you were small, you'd been there since the start of it all, and yet he still found it so difficult to relax. ─ you knew why, and you grieved for him when he could not.

he went silent, a scoff his final jab at your teasing, turning his head back out to the city that the bell overlooked, watching over it like a knight to its queen. the same city you can still vividly remember being covered in flickering flowers that drained you of the magic you built up if only to be at his side when he got into the college. ─ you remember being in the dorms, attending to any students who might need your help. and you remember when they started to fall unconscious. you remember looking outside as the flowers spread, until you too, went dark, only to wake sometime later with the mission of finding rollo to make sure he was okay. (he was, and you think you know why.)

"are you hungry?" you asked, crossing your legs and leaning forward.

"no."

"liar." you quickly rebutted, turning your head to him with narrowed eyes, "you didn't eat lunch."

"and how do you know that?"

"i know everything, my dear rollo." ─ you always made sure he was taking care of himself, always there to support even when he remained oblivious to it. you remember making that promise to yourself as a kid, to look out for him when no one else would, when he didn't know how to grieve, and he scowled and cursed at every mage that crossed your sight.

you grabbed the bag at your side and reached into it, pulling out sandwiches and bottles of water, "i brought you something to eat." you held it out to him with a look that told him he had to take it. he did, and he didn't need to say thank you because you knew that when tomorrow comes, he'll have your favorite pastry waiting for you, like he always did when you make sure to care of him where he lacked. "i would've cooked for you, but alas, i simply had no time."

"thank the stars." he sassed, and you would've gasped in surprise if you hadn't been expecting. ─ he really was so talkative today, lucky you.

"we are still sitting at the top of the tower."

"your threats have no effect on me." he scoffed, before taking a bite of the unwrapped sandwich.

you snorted and glared at him with faux annoyance, "see if i ever come back here."

a side glance as he chewed, before he jabbed back, "what happened to having me all to yourself?"

"i can manage."

"you're much too terrible at lying."

he's right, but you think that applies only when it came to your care for him.

and you know it will be the same tomorrow. ─ just as your watch strikes six, when the sky is painted with yellows and pinks as the sun begins to set, and many of your peers begin to retire from the rush of class. and although you would like to join them, you'd still find yourself at the belltower, like clockwork, with your books waiting for you to return to them, and a bag on your shoulder with sandwiches inside because you'd know he'd probably forget to eat lunch. and you'd find something else to jab at him about, to see how he's feeling, and know what he needs you to be.

because you made a promise to care for him, because you're not sure anyone else will.

do not repost, translate, copy, or run my writing through an ai

[themissinghand]

aahghh i'm happy that your requests r open :33 i want to ask for a Jinwoo x sleepy male/gn reader.. basically the reader falls asleep somewhere but always wake up in the most random places. Bellion has found them sleeping somewhere in the shadow realm more than once and no one knows how they got there. it's actually concerning-

this can either platonic or romantic idc rly

take care!

Solo Leveling: Sleepy Bois are Cute Too!

Summary: 3 times that Jinwoo caught his partner falling asleep on him, and the one time he didn’t. Not in any particular order.

In which Jinwoo is worried, but you reassure him every time. 

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x sleepy GN! reader

Note: Last one for 2023! Will be back in the new year :) 

Warning: None. Just fluffy goodness. 

★・・・・・・★

Jinwoo is worried about your sleeping antics.

He’s worried that when you fall asleep, he will never find you again. 

He took all the precautions, making sure there was a shadow soldier by your side when you fall asleep, keeping a tracker on you (with your consent of course!), and even taking you on his missions to ensure you don’t disappear on him. 

“Jinwoo-ah, don’t worry, I can protect myself.” 

Sure, you were an A-class weapon maker, and yes, you knew how to use your weapons well, but no matter how much you reassure him, Jinwoo is a protective person by nature, knowing how dangerous the world can be. 

He also knows how dedicated you are to your craft, spending days on end without sleep or food to create S-class grade weapons for the world to marvel at. 

But it was only more of a reason for him to protect you from those greedy hunters and associations! 

Perhaps that was where your sleeping habits stem from, the lack of sleep.

It didn’t start off this way, as at the beginning of your relationship, Jinwoo found you cute for dozing off like a baby. 

It was during a movie night, where the two of you cuddled on the bed, and holding each others’ hands. You dozed off very shortly after the movie began, and Jinwoo couldn’t help but pull you closer into a hug. 

Loving your warmth and the peace you bring, Jinwoo easily fell asleep by your side. 

Only to wake up with you not by his side. 

In panic, he rushed around the shared home to find you, only to get a call from his sister, and see you at his mom’s house. Apparently, Jinah found you sleeping in Jinwoo’s old room.

“It happens sometimes…but don’t worry! I’m usually safe.” Your reassurance didn’t make Jinwoo feel any better about it. 

The next time, it was when the two of you were bathing together. 

Jinwoo hummed, satisfied and relaxed, as you washed his hair, scratched his head, and massaged his shoulders. Your voice was soothing, as you told him about your next weapon idea. 

Until suddenly, he felt a hard knock onto his back, making him turn around quickly to see you dozing off. 

He withheld a snicker before he switched your positions, and had you lay on him. 

“(Y/N), how could you sleep in the middle of doing something?” Jinwoo whispered, and although he gently rocked your body, he didn’t bother trying to wake you. 

Jinwoo made sure you were comfortable, and finished the bath, before carrying you like a princess to your shared bed. 

“Jinwoo?” Your slurred words made him smile, and he placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“Bedtime, your favourite time is here.” 

“Yay~” Your dopey smile made him happy as he covered the both of you with a blanket. Jinwoo snuggled close, and this time, made sure to hold you tight, so you wouldn’t disappear on him again. 

Your little snores, and light breathing lured him to sleep. 

The next day, you were gone. 

This time, he searched the home, and even checked with his mom and sister, but nothing. 

This time, he panicked, and immediately searched everywhere for you. 

Like a parent who lost their child, he searched far and wide, until he found you sleeping on top of the Korean Hunters Association’s building. He immediately hugged you close, waking you up from your drowsy state. 

“Jinwoo? What’s wrong?” You who have just woken up from your long sleep didn’t understand why Jinwoo was hugging you so desperately. You patted his back as you rested your head on his shoulder. 

“Are you okay? How did you even get up here?” 

“What are you talking about-” Finally registering your current location, you were shocked. 

“This isn’t our home.” 

When Jinwoo registered your confusion, then acceptance (almost too easily), he couldn’t help but feel helpless. If you didn’t know how you got here, and he didn’t sense your disappearance twice in a row, Jinwoo knew he had to be careful. 

This was when you and him talked of the dangers and of the precautions you should take to ensure your safety. 

One time, Jinwoo had a nightmare. 

Of the times where he was still an E-class hunter, where he was still weak, poor, and helpless. 

Of the times where he had nothing to his name, but only shame and disappointment. 

He felt powerless, feeling the shadow of a cold blade cutting into his flesh and warm blood spill from his body. 

“Jinwoo!” 

He woke up to you calling his name and wiping his face. 

“Jinwoo! Are you okay-” Jinwoo hugged you tightly, knocking the air out of your lungs for a moment, as he inhaled your scent. 

He then noticed you wearing his hoodie, clearly oversized for you, and your messy bed hair. 

Then he remembers you, who had taught him how to use different weapons, and how to not get scammed by weapon dealers. 

From then till now, you have supported him, and he has found your talent in return. 

“There there, my little king.” Jinwoo smiled as he felt little pats to his back, and kissed the crook of your neck. 

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

“Always.” 

The next time, when you disappeared, Jinwoo knew where you were immediately. 

He didn’t panic, nor did he fret, though this time, he really did question your abilities as an A-class weapon maker. 

Were you really an A-class hunter at this point?

Jinwoo observed, perplexed, as you once again emerged from an unexpected slumber, this time in the shadow realm. 

With a yawn, you flipped to the other side on the throne, and without any sense of danger, you curlled into a ball, and fell asleep again.

Jinwoo quickly went over to you on the throne, and picked you up, before sitting down and placing you in his lap. He made sure you were comfortable before he looked to Bellion for any explanation. 

“My Liege, I…have no excuses. I was unable to sense any changes in the shadow realm and was unable to find out how Their Highness was able to arrive here.” 

Bellion, equally puzzled, knelt before the two of you, ashamed. 

“Bellion, stand. It’s not your fault. Even I can't sense when they disappear. But keep others updated on the situation.” Bellion nodded, before standing and leaving you two space. 

"How does this keep happening?" Jinwoo asked, and sighed, concern etching onto his face. Even so, he caressed your cheek, and woke you from your slumber.

Like a cat, he saw you scrunch up your face, and even pushed his finger away, before popping open one eye.

“Jinwoo? Where am I now?” It became a habit of yours now to observe your surroundings every time you woke up. 

“In my realm, in my castle, and on my throne.” 

“Huh.” It took a moment for you to process.

“How did I get here?” 

“No idea. But I'd rather have you here than outside.” 

“Well. This is new.” You ruffled your messy bed hair, before a hand pulled your chin back to face Jinwoo. 

“You were sleeping on my throne…were you thinking of me?” Jinwoo’s hand slowly cradled your face as he stared at you with intent. 

“Maybe?” You cheekily answered, before replicating the same action back. However, you steal a quick little peck to the corner of his lips. 

In the next moment, his mouth lands on yours passionately, completely taking your breath away as he pulls you in further and further, until you’re completely at his mercy.

Pinned to his throne, wearing his oversized black silk pajamas, and puffy lips, you realize that maybe you should learn to control your sleep antics. 

[itsvenera]

ship: sasuke x fem! reader

genre: fluff

sasuke is travelling around the shinobi world during the blank period and he falls in love with a shinobi from one of the smaller villages like, the hidden waterfall after going on missions with them and eventually after a few months of knowing them he confesses ☺️😉

Sasuke x fem! reader

author's note: Once I read the request, I immediately had a scenario forming in my head and the whole story kind of "wrote itself"! I feel I did move a bit from the original request, but I really hope you still enjoy it! <3 Thank you so much for your ask!

Warnings: none really (Sasuke may be a little bit ooc? idk, it's always hard to decide with him, isn't it?)

“Again.”

Taking a deep breath, your hands instinctively moved in front of your chest, forming the now way too familiar hand signs. Feeling a burning sensation forming in your stomach, you brought your hand up to your mouth, creating a cupping motion and exhaling a large wave of water from between your lips. One by one the targets across the wall opposite of you fell on the floor, unable to withhold the strong pressure of the water.

A thin wooden stick suddenly slapped you across the wrist, making you drop your hand with a wince.

“Again.”

Gritting your teeth, you repeated the action, spewing a large amount of water from between your lips, while twisting your body towards the right side of the room. Moving your aim across the wooden targets that stood in a row, you made sure to hit all five of them, before dropping your hand away. Turning towards your teacher, you slightly bowed your head, before clasping your hands in front of you.

Yakizo, the middle-aged woman who your family hired to be your teacher, looked at you with squinted eyes, before clicking her tongue and letting out a scoff.

“Hmph”, she walked around you, the end of the stick hitting the lower end of your waist, immediately straightening your posture,

“You are not fit for a fighter. Perhaps you should focus more on your healing studies.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks, a strong metallic taste filling the inside of your mouth.  The strong urge to snap back at the woman was making your fingers tremble and for a second you entertained the idea of unleashing your water wave jutsu directly at her always scowling face.

Your life has not always been like this.

Years ago, when your father was still among the living, you were trained alongside your brother Shibuki in various fighting techniques. But once he passed away and your sibling became the village head, everything changed. After drinking some of the Hero Water, Shibuki feared that his life span would shorten the same way it happened to your father, which would leave you as the only remaining member of the head family.

And that thought alone was enough for Shibuki to become paranoid and overly protective of you.

You were rarely allowed to go on missions and when you did - they were always lower-rank missions, way below your level of training and skills. Your lessons started to focus primarily on healing and medical ninjutsu, a decision made by Shibuki since "the village would benefit way more from having a highly-skilled healer, than another fighter".

When you refused to give up your fighting lessons, your brother decided to hire Yakizo to be the one teaching you. She was a bitter lady in her late 40s, who was a decent fighter, but a questionable tutor. She refused to let you practice anything more advanced than basic water release attacks and even then, she has always found something to critique.

"Lady Y/N", a voice called out. Both you and Yakizo turned towards the door, where a young male servant stood with his hands clasped behind his back, "Lord Shibuki request your presence."

Nodding your head, you turned towards your tutor, before laying your palms against each other in front of your chest and bowing respectfully. She never returned the gesture, instead clicking her tongue and twirling around, making her way towards the exit. You waited for a minute after her exit, before finally exhaling a breath of relief.

"Tough session, huh?", the servant asked, leaning against the door frame and smiling at you. You playfully rolled your eyes, before making your way towards him.

"Isn't it always, Suni?", you joked, exiting the room, "I don't understand why Shibuki insisted for her to be my teacher. I am pretty convinced she hates me."

Suni hummed in agreement, quickening his step so he could be beside you. Despite being from different social classes, both of you shared a strong friendship, which was formed early in your childhood days. Being the only person who knew the real dynamic of your strained relationship with your brother, he was also the only person you could fully relax and be open to.

"Perhaps this is exactly why he chose her", he said, tapping his index finger against his chin, "Maybe he hopes that since she is so awful, you are going to give up fighting altogether."

You snorted at his words, but you saw the logic behind them. And knowing Shibuki, it would not be surprising if that was his interior motivation for the choice.

"If it is going to make you feel better, I heard he is sending you on a mission", Suni said, bumping your shoulder playfully with his, "And this time it does not involve picking any fruits or vegetables."

A small spark of curiosity appeared in your eyes and you looked towards Suni, silently inviting him to say more. He, however, remained silent, choosing to move his gaze ahead instead.

"Are you not going to tell me more?", you pressed, leaning your head towards him, while trying to catch his eyes again. The way his face suddenly reddened and his eyes twitched in every direction but yours led you to believe that he knew more than he was letting on.

Fortunately for him, before you could enquire more, you both found yourself in front of the wooden sliding doors of the grand hall. Suni gave you a small apologetic smile, before sliding the door open.

"Lady Y/N", he announced your presence, before stepping aside and clearing a way for you to enter. Stepping inside, your eyes immediately fell on two male figures sitting opposite each other in the middle of the hall, one of which was your brother.

"Sister, welcome", Shibuki smiled and stood up, making his way towards you. You bowed your head towards him, before turning your attention to the other man. He remained seated with his head tilted down, calmly sipping from a small cup full of jasmine tea. His long raven locks fell in front of his face, blocking most of it from your view, but revealing enough for you to get an idea who he was.

"Please come meet our guest", Shibuki enthusiastically said, offering you his arm to grab, before he started making his way back to the centre of the hall. The man, who so far has not acknowledged your presence in any way, finally stood up, turning his head towards you. His onyx eyes met yours and for a second, you felt your breath hitch in your throat.

Finally finding yourself in front of him, you politely bowed your head, patiently waiting for Shibuki to introduce you.

"I don't believe you met last time you were here", your brother said to the man, gesturing with his hand for all of you to sit down, "This is my sister, Y/N. One of the best medical ninjas in the village, despite being still in training."

You bit your bottom lip, biting down the urge to snap at your sibling. Instead, you choose to let a tight-lipped smile spread across your face, but you couldn't help the slight gritting of your teeth.

"This is Sasuke Uchiha", Shibuki continued, this time turning toward you, "He is a ninja from the Leaf Village, who kindly agreed to come here to help us with our current problem with the threats we received last week."

Sasuke's face remained stoic, his eyes focused on you. Unlike you, he did not offer any type of response or a greeting, instead choosing to take another sip of his tea, while his gaze remained boring into you.

"Very kind of him, indeed", you commented, refusing to give up in this little staring contest you found yourself in. You couldn't help but feel your body becoming more tense as time went on, a feeling of uneasiness setting deep inside your stomach. Not because of the foreign presence, but rather from the fact that you still did not have even the slightest idea of what Suni was talking about earlier.

"Right?", Shibuki brought his own cup to his lips, closing his eyes once the warm liquid made its way down his throat, "With allies like this, the people of Takigakure would have nothing to fear about."

"Forgive me my bluntness, brother", you said impatiently, your foot twitching nervously under the small table between you, "But what is the reason you have requested my attendance today? I assume it is not only so you introduce me to... your ally."

Before your brother can even open his mouth to reply, Sasuke's deep monotone voice sounded beside you:

"I need a guide."

"A guide?", your head snapped toward him, one of your eyebrows raising in a questioning manner.

"I need someone to be my guide during my time in the village", Sasuke calmly explained, his face remaining expressionless, "The threats you have received are made by a shinobi who, I suspect, are from the village. Their familiarity with the area is already to their advantage."

"I am afraid my duties do not involve providing tours to foreigners", you countered, your eyes squinting at him, before moving your gaze to Shibuki, "Brother, I told you that if you send me after them, I am fully capable to-"

"Enough!", your sibling's voice boomed, immediately silencing you, "Y/N, we already talked about this. You are not fit for fighting."

"But I am a shinobi! I just need a chance to prove myself and-"

"I SAID ENOUGH!", Shibuki's hands slammed on the table. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming his trembling body. It was a rare occasion for him to shout at you.

"You are to escort Sasuke during his time in the village. I believe you are going to be a good example of our village's hospitality and make sure he is feeling comfortable. You are going to accompany him to the neighbouring lands during the course of his investigation."

Your brother stood up from his chair, casting a quick glance at the clock on the wall opposite him. Nodding his head at the servants sitting in the corner of his room, he turned his attention back to the Leaf ninja.

"Please accept my apologies, Sasuke Uchiha", Shibuki's eyes quickly turned to glare at you, before they focused on the young male again, "I am afraid my sister sometimes forgets her lady manners and her place in this village. However, I believe she would be of great help in your pursuit of these criminals."

With those words, he bowed his head toward the man, before stepping aside and giving you one last warning look.

"Take Sasuke to his room and maybe for a walk around the village this afternoon", he commanded, before pointing his index finger at you, "And no fighting."

You reluctantly nodded your head, embarrassed that a foreign ninja became a witness to your little family row. Disagreements like this were not uncommon between you two, but so far they were rarely witnesses, and when they were, it was usually by people working at the Residence.

Once you were alone with the Uchiha, you took a deep breath, a polite fake smile forming on your lips.

"Well, then", you said, while getting up from your place, "I better take you to your room. Please follow me."

You turned on your heel and started walking, without waiting for him to get up. Your eyes met those of Suni, who gave you an apologetic look, before sliding the door open for you.

Walking through the corridors of the Residence, you had to look back a couple of times in order to make sure Sasuke was following you. He has remained silent the whole time, yet you could feel his gaze burning a hole in your back every time you faced away from him.

Finally arriving in front of a heavy wooden door, you grasped the handle and pushed it open, letting both of you inside. Quickly moving towards the window, you pushed the curtains aside, letting the daylight in.

"We are delighted to have you as our guest", the rehearsed words used for every guest made their way out of your mouth before you could even think about them, "I will be back later this afternoon, once you have a chance to rest. Meanwhile, if you need anything, a servant will be made available for you soon. You can let them know if you desire any food or refreshments."

Not waiting for a response, you started to make your way out, before his deep voice made you freeze in place.

"Your brother is right."

"I beg your pardon?", you turned towards him, waiting for him to elaborate. Sasuke was not even looking at you, instead focusing his attention on removing his cape and swords from his body. Your eyes fell briefly down his body, acknowledging how swiftly he worked his robe and weapon belt, despite having only one arm, but quickly made their way back to his face once he spoke again.

"These criminals are dangerous", he stated, grabbing his bag and starting to unpack it, "They have to be dealt with quickly and efficiently by a skillful shinobi, before they cause even more problems."

"I am a skillful shinobi", you protested, narrowing your eyes at him. Your fingernails pressed against your palms, a painful reminder that you were speaking to a guest and you had to hold your tongue behind your teeth.

"You said you were a healer", he looked at you, arching a brow. It happened just for a second, but you could've sworn that you saw the corner of his lip twitch upwards in what looked like a smirk. It disappeared as fast as it came, leaving his expression blank.

"Shibuki said I was a healer", you corrected, emphasizing your sibling's name. Sasuke hummed, looking you up and down, before focusing on unpacking his back again.

"And is he mistaken? Given your attire, I can already assume you are definitely not a fighter."

"Well, your assumption is wrong", the words came out more snarky than you intended, yet you did nothing to correct the way they sounded. Something about the way he was speaking irritated you - his tone, so calm and collected, sounded almost mocking in your ears. You couldn't help but feel judged by this stranger - whether it was because your brother has said something to him earlier or because he simply lacked a basic respect towards women - you did not know, but you did not like it.

Sasuke did not say anything else, instead letting out a low "hn" sound. He continued putting his clothes away, neatly arranging them by colour and size in the wardrobe. You stood in your place, following his movements with your eyes, before looking down at your dress. Technically, he was right that you were not dressed as a ninja - your long flowy light green kimono would be highly impracticable in a real fight, despite the fact you wore it during your basic training earlier. However, you felt unfairly judged, considering that you were at your own home, so of course you are not going to wear fighting attire.

Irritated by his earlier comment, you decided to bite back:

"You may have fooled my brother, Sasuke Uchiha", your voice came out low and sharp, "But the villagers, including myself, have not forgotten the terror you and your team of rogue ninjas have caused to our neighbours and allies. Do not mistake our hospitality for an opportunity to try and harm our village."

The words made Sasuke's movements halt for a while, his eyes glancing towards your through the thick curtain of raven hair covering half of his face.

"You have heard of me."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"We live in the Village Hidden by a Waterfall, not in a hole in the ground", you replied, turning towards the door again, "And even then, I believe your reputation would've found its way there too."

Before exiting you made sure to stop, giving him a chance to give you any sort of reply, which he did not. Instead, he remained silent, and after a minute of waiting, you heard him walking towards the wardrobe again, carefully arranging his stuff. Realising you won't get a response, you left the room and made your way back to the training grounds.

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

A few days have passed since Sasuke's arrival. Little words were exchanged between you, and when they were, they were primarily you explaining the layout of the village and him asking questions about the security around the area.

Being his guide was way more draining than expected. The large amount of time you spend in silence and his always blank expression soon started to bother you more than you'd expected. It was obvious that neither of you was thrilled with the other's presence, but you felt like you at least tried to pretend to be polite and appear unbothered. Something you couldn't say about him.

"He makes a lot of sounds", you complained one afternoon while sparring with Suni, "It is weird. It is like he has never interacted with another human being till this point! He just "hn"s and "mm"s all the time!"

The boy laughed, successfully blocking your swing towards his neck.

"You seem way too bothered about it", he commented, his smile dropping once you cast a harsh glare at him, "Just try to ignore him. I doubt this mission would last that long anyway."

You rolled your eyes, stepping away from Suni and wiping the sweat forming on top of your brow with the sleeve of your top. Taking this as a sign that the fight is over, he took a seat on one of the nearby rocks and passed you his pouch of water. Thanking him, you took it from his hands and took a large gulp of water.

"One mission this is", you mumbled under your breath, before taking a seat next to him, "I'm just walking the Uchiha around the village like he is on some type of holiday. Meanwhile, the threat to our village remains unresolved and my brother keeps holding me back."

Suni's eyes filled with sympathy and he laid one of his hands on your upper back, rubbing soothing circles.

"Shibuki just cares about you", he tried to reason, his words gentle and calm, "You are the only family he has left."

"As he is mine", you argued, turning your eyes towards your friend, " But I would never deprive him of the liberty of making his own choices. It's not fair! It is not right! There is a whole world out there I haven't even seen!"

You let out a sign, a feeling of guilt immediately washing over you. It was not Suni's fault for how you felt. And deep inside, you knew he was right - your sibling treated you the way he did, only because he was trying to protect you.

Sensing the way your body tensed, Suni wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you towards him and landing a comforting kiss on top your head.

"Lady Y/N", a cold voice sounded behind you, making you jump away from the boy and turn around. Dressed in his cape and holding his bag over his shoulder, Sasuke Uchiha's dark eyes stared intensely at you, not acknowledging Suni in any way.

"Sasuke", you cleared your throat, suddenly feeling embarrassed by the idea that he may have heard your conversation. For how long was he sitting there?

"How can I help you?"

"I am leaving the village", he bluntly said, his eyes briefly moving to Suni and narrowing, before focusing back on you, "I believe I have all the information I need now."

You stood there silent for a while, both shock and confusion forming inside your mind. What was he talking about? What information? When did he even gather it, given for the past few days he was just silently walking around?

"I, um...", you opened your mouth, but quickly closed it again. You assume that you should have felt relief hearing his words, but for some reason, it never came.

Shaking your head, you offered him a tight-lipped smile, before moving towards him.

"That is great news", you said, your tone not matching the expected enthusiasm, "Please follow me. I will take you to my brother, before we provide you with enough food and coins for your journey."

Nodding your head to Suni as your "goodbye", you started walking towards the stairs of the Residence. You couldn't hear the Uchiha following you, but at this point, you have learned that he moved so silently, that it was impossible to hear his steps with the average human hearing. His long shadow, however, was an indicator that he was closely walking behind.

Your fingers were just reaching for the doors and about to open them when he spoke again:

"Come with me."

Your movements halted and you felt your breath hitched. Turning your head, you looked at him, sure that you have misheard him.

"Excuse me?"

"Come with me", he said again, this time taking a step closer, so he was towering over you, "We are leaving in an hour."

Opening your mouth, no sound came out, and you closed it again, before repeating. There was dozens of thoughts flooding your mind, yet none of them could make their way to your lips.

"I.. I can't! I have duties, I-", the words died on your lips and you suddenly felt unsure how to justify it.

"Duties of a 'healer', I know", the corner of his mouth twitched just a bit upwards, his expression suddenly looking almost humorous, "Your people seem to be of good health. I am sure they will manage a few weeks without you."

The mention of the word "healer" seemed to act like a switch for you and you managed to gather your composure. Your face hardening, you turned away again, grabbing the door handle one more time.

"It is not about that."

He hummed behind you, staying still.

"That's what you wanted, wasn't it? To finally have a chance?"

Closing your eyes, you nodded your head, before you let out a dry chuckle.

"I wish it was that simple", you mumbled, finally entering the building. Before you could make more than a few steps, however, a calloused hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you lightly backward. You turned around, ready to question him, but stopped once you noticed how close he was to you.

"It is that simple", he stated, his fingers finally releasing you. His eyes traced your face from your forehead to your lips, before they stopped at your own, "I can find my way to the grand hall. You go and pack your bag. I will see you at the gates in an hour."

Before you could protest, he started walking away with a hurried step, leaving you alone in the corridor with a choice.

Either to finally give yourself what you have been craving for all your life or willingly give it up once and for all.

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

There was either something genius about Sasuke Uchiha or something severely wrong about him.

There was no other explanation of how he convinced Shibuki to let you go with him outside the village and for an unspecified amount of time, on top of that. Either way, whatever tactic he used, he refused to share with you, instead saying that your sibling agreed straight away.

Surprisingly, Sasuke insisted on walking, saying that while it was a slower method of moving, it was a better way of caving your energy and chakra. The logic behind his decision was questionable, but you did not argue further, instead deciding to follow him. So far, he has failed to share any details about your pursuit of the criminals, other than both of you are heading towards the Hidden Stone Village.

Hour by hour, the sun was moving lower and lower towards the horizon, letting the forest around fall in darkness.

"We better find somewhere to rest. It is going to rain soon", he observed, looking up at the dark grey clouds that were slowly traveling your way. You followed his gaze, nodding your head, before looking around you. You were surrounded by trees and there was no sign of any caves or shelters, you could use as a cover for the night. Your trained ears, however, caught another sound.

"There is a river nearby", you stated, turning towards the sound of moving water, "We better set a camp there, so we can refresh in the morning."

Just like you suspected, just a few minutes walk away from where you stood, was a stream running in the middle of a small meadow. Wasting no time, you took your jacket off and started going around, collecting fallen branches, bark, leaves, and everything you considered necessary, in order to start building a short-term shelter for the night.

Sasuke watched you with interest, deciding to help you with some of the bigger branches, despite having one hand. While you knew that even like that, he was at least twice more capable of handling himself, you couldn't help but feel bad at his effort to felp.

"It's okay. I've got this."

He scoffed, ignoring your words and lifting some of the materials off your hands. You quickly dropped what you were carrying and grabbed the branches and bark back, while giving him a stern look.

"I said I've got this."

Sasuke looked at you in surprise and after a minute, he raised his hand in a defensive motion. Putting the branches on top of the pile on the ground, you again lifted all of the stuff, making your way towards the middle of the meadow.

"You have an attitude problem", he calmly stated, while watching you build the frame for your shelter. You couldn't help but let out an obnoxious snort, looking up at him with a small smirk on your lips.

"That is very rich coming from you", you mused, wrapping some of the branches together. Sasuke's eyes narrowed, but he remained quiet, knowing that you did have a point. He watched you for a while, before deciding to start unpacking some of the food and drinks you brought with you.

"You don't talk a lot", you decided to break the silence, still expertly working your hands at making a secure frame on top of which to lay the bark and leaves.

"I have nothing to say", he replied, his voice waving just the slightest at the end of his sentence. If you hadn't listened carefully, you would have missed it.

"That's usually said by people who have awful lot to say."

Sasuke didn't answer and you assumed that was the end of your short conversation. Lifting the wooden frame you managed to build, so it stands, you started to carefully put pieces of bark and leaves on top of it. Putting the last few ones, you felt the first water droplets landing on your skin.

Both you and Sasuke hurried under the shelter, escaping just by seconds the moment the rain intensified. The space was quite small and you had to sit extra close together, your shoulder and knee pressed against each other. While in any other scenario, you would feel quite uncomfortable by the close proximity, now your attention was solely focused on the raging weather outside.

The last time you left the village was before your father passed away. To you seeing the outside world again was almost like a surreal dream and you tried to engrave every single thing inside your mind, knowing that another chance like this may not present itself for a long time.

"I hate the rain", Sasuke suddenly said, bringing you back to reality. You snapped your head in his direction and before you could stop it, a loud "pfft" sound left your lips.

"How could anyone hate the rain?", a quiet chuckle left your lips and your eyes lifted towards the sky again. Rain was a rare occurrence in your village and definitely something that was admired by your people. It was believed that it carried good luck and prosperity.

"It brings bad memories", was all he said, his eyes staring at the distance. You raised your brow, expecting him to continue, but when you looked at him, he seemed lost in what you assumed was a painful memory lane.

Crawling on your knees, you exited the shelter, goosebumps covering your skin the moment the cold water drops hit your skin. Your hair immediately became drenched, sticking to the side of your face, but the small smile that started dancing on your lips hinted you are anything but bothered by it.

Your hand extended towards him, inviting him to take it.

"Come."

He looked at your hand with an unimpressed gaze, before lifting his gaze to your face and clicking his tongue in annoyance.

"Do you want to catch a cold? Come under."

With a playful roll of your eyes, you grabbed his hand and tugged him toward you, not hard enough to pull him completely outside, but enough for his sleeve to get wet.

"Are you insane? Now I am all-", his irritated rant got interrupted the moment you laid your fingers on top of his mouth, laughing at his sour expression.

"Is the great Sasuke Uchiha intimidated by some water drops?", you taunted, tugging his hand again, "Come on, stop being a coward."

"I'm not-", he started saying, before letting out a sigh. Gritting his teeth, he crawled after you, his eyes narrowing in annoyance once the water quickly made its way through his clothes and hair. Exhaling an angry breath of air through his nose, he glared at you.

"Happy? Now we are both drenched."

You shushed him with your finger, pulling him away from the shelter and towards the middle of the grass meadow. Once you were satisfied with the place, your dropped on your knees, pulling grumbling Sasuke down with you.

"What are you doing?", he sighed, reluctantly following your silent commands. Sasuke was not one to let someone drag him left and right but he knew there was no point in arguing with you, as it seemed you were just doing whatever you wanted, without real consideration of how he felt about it. He couldn't help, but question if taking you with him was really a good idea.

And then he felt it... a gentle touch brushing the sticky hair out of his face, exposing both of his eyes to you. His immediate reaction was to grab your hand and pull it away, but you slapped his fingers with you other hand before he could do so.

"Let them go."

His eyes widened, unable to move away from your own. The way you stared at him, full of hope and expectation, made his throat suddenly feel dry. Raindrops continue to fall on both of you and he could swear that the way they reflected the moonlight made you appear... almost ethereal. Almost like all of this was one strange dream, one he was not really sure he wanted to wake up from.

"You said the rain brings bad memories", you continued, blinking through the heavy drops falling on your face, "It is time to let it wash them away. Let them go."

He opened his mouth to reply but no words came out. Instead, he closed his eyes, letting the vivid images of his bloody past flood his mind. They felt so real, he almost thought he was experiencing it all over again, the only thing reminding him of the reality being the warm feeling of your hands holding his hair away from his face.

He would never be able to explain what happened that night. Perhaps he was tired, or having a weird sensation due to the cold... But something has changed. When he woke up the next day, you were already up, cooking some fish for breakfast. Looking up at him, you smiled.

"Beautiful day, isn't?", you pointed up towards the shining sun, while inhaling the smell of fresh grass, "It's like the forest had a fresh life brought into it. Wouldn't be possible if the skies hadn't cried their tears last night, I'll tell you that."

And for the first time he had known you, he openly agreed with what you said.

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

You and Sasuke travelled for three months together. During this time you visited many different places, including his home village Konoha. He has not shared any details in your pursuit of the criminals threatening Takigakure, but you assumed that your long journey meant that they kept moving from place to place. It annoyed you that they always seemed to be one step ahead of you, but you used the opportunity to enjoy the scenery and experience the culture of nations, you have only read about in books.

During these months, both of you also grew closer, and you were surprised to get to know the man who was hiding behind this emotionless mask he presented to the outside world. What you thought to be a selfish and arrogant ninja, turned out to be a deeply wounded and hurt individual, who continued to seek its place in this world. He shared with you what happened to his clan, his raging teenage years, spent seeking revenge, as well the truth he learned from his brother during their final battle. He talked you through his journey of change and his ultimate decision to travel the world in an attempt to atone for his sins.

You, on the other hand, had far less to share with him about yourself but still did open up about your dream to be a fighter, your strained relationship with your brother, and the heavy burden you felt growing up in a society where women were expected to act and behave in a certain way.

"Sometimes I'm sick of being Lady Y/N", you shared one day, while you were walking through the woods, "Sometimes I want to be just Y/N."

Sasuke hummed at your words. One thing that hasn't changed is his preference to make noises, rather than use words.

"There is nothing wrong with being both", he finally said after a minute, and you clicked your tongue, before crossing your arms in front of your chest.

"But I don't want to be both", you huffed, annoyed that he couldn't just agree with you and instead wanted to counter your point, "I don't want to sit in pretty dresses and practice medical jutsus all day long. I want to fight for my people and protect them! I want to be a warrior."

Your words made the man stop in his place, turning toward you with unreadable expression. Staring into your eyes for what feel like couple long minutes, he finally lifted his hand towards your head, before flicking you on the forehead with his middle finger.

"Ow!"

He let out a low chuckle, something you have heard only once since you've met him, his expression looking amused, while yours seemed annoyed.

"There are far too many warriors there, damaging the world", he said, before pausing for a minute, looking up at the sky, "and far too few, who can heal it."

Your lips twitched sideways, brows lifting in surprise at his sudden wisdom. Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you continued walking down the forest path,

"The most I've fixed is a broken wrist of a child", you admitted, grumpily, "The truth is that our ninjas do not get assigned a lot of missions, therefore they do not get hurt. So my healing record is just as bad as my fighting one."

"You healed me."

Those words made you stop in place. So far you've indulged only in two fights and Sasuke managed to handle both of them pretty much by himself without even a scratch on his body. So what was he talking about?

"What?"

He took a few steps towards you, stopping right in front of your face. You were not sure if the sunset was casting it's light into his pale skin or if it was a result of some other optical illusion, but there was the slightest hint of rose colour covering his cheeks.

"You are the most stubborn, impulsive, impatient, and assertive woman I know. You also have a massive attitude problem", he said and you felt your jaw drop. Was he serious right now? Clutching your fists next to your body, your eyes narrowed and were ready to fight back, before he continued:

"And believe me, I know a lot of women with attitude. Yours is unmatched so far."

Pushing him on the chest, you managed to make him stumble a step back, while you got directly in his face. With cheeks and ears reddened from the blood boiling beneath your skin, you were unsure where his sudden passive aggression was coming from, but if he was seeking a fight, he was going to get one.

"Yeah? Well, that's funny, considering you are the most arrogant man- Hmpf!"

Sasuke's hand covered your mouth and he smirked seeing the rage behind your eyes, while shaking his head.

"See? Too impatient", he said, before moving his hand and flicking you on the forehead once again, "It is this tough personality and behaviour, that is often too much to handle, that makes you the woman I admire and respect so much. You showed me what is really important and taught me how to let go of the past... past which has been haunting me for years and which heaviness I believed I was destined to carry for years."

The beating of your heart suddenly increased, loudly drumming against your ribcage. A warm feeling spread inside your stomach, making your muscles tense. You loudly gulped, bringing your hands up to move his palm away from your mouth. He let you do it, relaxing at the feeling of your warm touch.

"Are you saying..."

He nodded.

"I am saying that during these past three months, you made me feel and experience things I have never before. Seeing the world through your eyes felt like... it felt like I was seeing it for the first time too", he moved his glance sideways, focusing on the little white flowers poking out of the grass next to you, "You have brought a fresh life into my existence."

You stayed silent, your brain taking some time to process his words. Sasuke's hand became tense in your hold, a sign of his anxiousness as a result of your lack of response. He was about to pull it away when your fingers dipped into his skin, a small playful smile playing on your lips.

"Say it."

"Say what?", he looked at you confused.

"Say "I like you.""

"I've literally just did that", he deadpanned and you rolled your eyes, tugging him close to you by his arm. Pushing your face into his again, you tried to ignore his musky smell, instead focusing on remaining a serious expression.

"You didn't say it directly, you just hinted at it", you pointed out as a matter of fact, tilting your head to the side, "I want to say it directly."

"No."

"Coward."

You stepped away with a smile, but before you could pull your hand, he laced his fingers with you, before starting to walk again. His expression and attitude seemed completely nonchalant, but the slightest blush covered the side of his cheeks, neck, and ears. You smirked a little, deciding it is enough teasing for now and giving him a light squeeze with your fingers, while continuing your journey through the woods.

"I like you too."

"I know", he said, his voice giving away the small smile on his lips. Clicking your tongue, you slapped him playfully on the shoulder, before your eyes widened.

"Wait a minute...", you stopped in your tracks, noticing the waterfall in the distance, "We are back home."

"We are", he confirmed, seemingly unphased by the fact you were back to the Village Hidden by a Waterfall, completely empty-handed. Not only you did not capture any of the rogue ninjas that threatened your home, but you didn't seem to have made a lot of progress in finding who they were during the few months you were away.

Running in front of him, you laid your hand on his chest, stopping him from continuing forward.

"Wait", you panted, your brain erratically thinking of what you should do, "We can't go back. We have not found those ninjas yet, we-"

"They have been in prison for months now", he interrupted you, "We captured them on the morning of the day we left."

Your mouth fell open and you tried to pull your hand away from his grasp, but he held it firmly. Unable to control yourself, you slapped him on the chest with your free one, emphasizing each word with each hit:

"You. Tricked. Me!"

Sasuke pulled you forward, using the opportunity to wrap his arm around your shoulder and press you against his chest, stopping your movements.

"I didn't trick you", he defended himself, "I said I was leaving because I had all the information I needed, which I did. I knew who the rogue ninjas were and I left Shibuki to deal with their punishment."

You relaxed in his embrace, processing what he said. So the whole time while you thought you were chasing some genius criminals... you were just travelling from place to place?

"The day we left... You said there is a whole world out there you haven't even seen", his words brought you back to the day you sat in the gardens, complaining to Suni, "I wanted you to have that."

His words soon started to fade away and your focus shifted to the sound of his heartbeat. Your arms, which were limply hanging down, slowly moved around his waist, pressing him against you as a silent "thank you". Your eyes set at the horizon, following the shapes of the dark clouds forming in the distance.

"It's going to rain."

His chin gently relaxed on top of your head.

"I like the rain."

cc artwork: Arthur Zima

[billiethepumpkin]

Best Pain I Ever Felt: Eijirou Kirishima x Reader

Warnings: Rated R. This content is intended for readers ages 18 years or older. If you are a minor, do not interact.

Contains: Fem!Reader. Descriptions of violence. Descriptions of injuries. Emotional.

Featuring: Eijirou Kirishima.

Author's Note: All characters are written to be adults because I am an old fuck :)

You saw it on the news.

Everyone had. You had probably a dozen text messages and at least three phone calls from people who loved you asking if everything was alright, if you'd had any word.

If you had, your heart wouldn't be sitting in the soles of your shoes right now. It seemed impossible. Your mind was trying to convince you that you hadn't really seen what you just saw. But you did. There was no denying that it was real. You knew by the warm tears that fell down your cheeks without any beckoning.

Red Riot had taken on a massive attack. He had been fighting some villain that you had only heard of a couple of times. You guessed he was supposed to be a small time villain, but the way he was attacking Red Riot... It seemed relentless, like he was made for killing even the toughest heroes.

Red Riot, who took every hit without so much as flinching. Red Riot, who refused to let any of the pain show, no matter how badly it felt like his skin and bones were on fire. Red Riot, who kept going back for more, ready to defend his city and the rest of the world, if it came down to it.

Red Riot, who loved you deeply. Red Riot, who bought you flowers after any mission that kept him away overnight. Red Riot, who took baths with you and gave you massages, even though his work days were much more taxing than yours. Red Riot, who would go to the ends of the earth to protect you, to show you that he loved you.

The villain had tried to escape, but was so beaten and exhausted after his showdown with Red Riot that he was easily arrested. The last image of Red Riot that the news had shown was a split second of him knocked out on the ground, covered in scrapes and bruises, bleeding from the side of his head. You wondered how long it would be before somebody at the agency called you. It had already been twenty minutes. Maybe, you thought, their not calling was a good sign. Maybe it meant there was nothing to report, that everything was fine. Maybe it meant that he was okay.

Or maybe it meant that people at the agency were drawing straws to figure out who was gonna break the news to the boss's babygirl...

You couldn't sit there anymore. Someone had to know something about what happened. You tried to call the receptionist at the agency--nothing. You guessed it was kind of late, probably past her normal business hours. You tried to call a different agency number. And when that failed, you tried to call your husband's cell phone, because maybe someone from the agency had it and would be able to give you some kind of answer as to what the hell was going on.

No answer.

At this point, you stopped thinking. You got in your car and drove to the agency. Somebody had to tell you.

When you got there, the office was eerily quiet. You walked around for a little while. Finally, someone came walking down the hall in the opposite direction. "Hey, Ms. Y/N," he said. "You didn't hear? Red Riot's at the hospital."

After figuring out which hospital, you didn't even bother to say goodbye to the man as you rushed away. You begged the front desk at the hospital to give you any information on your boyfriend. But when she couldn't reveal anything to you for privacy reasons, one of Kirishima's sidekicks called to you from a few feet away. "He's going to be fine," he reassured you, leading you to a bench outside the room where he was resting. "He was hurt pretty badly. He has a concussion and a collapsed lung, along with needing several stitches and a heavy dose of pain meds. But he's okay."

For the first time since you watched the story on the news a little more than an hour and a half ago, you took a massive breath, your hand falling onto your chest in an attempt to ground yourself. You felt tears well up in the corners of you eyes. "Thank you," you muttered as the sidekick opened the hospital room door for you.

And there he was. Your Kirishima, wrapped up in bandages and hooked up to several monitors for his own health. His eyes were closed, resting. You could hear his labored breathing, even through the oxygen tube in his nose.

How could someone do this to another person? Someone as wonderful as him? You silently swore you were going to personally hunt down whoever had done this and take care of them yourself. Then you remembered they'd already been arrested. You guessed there wasn't much to be done about it.

You caressed his arm, still sweaty and covered in dirt after his fight. His eyes opened at your touch, and he looked right at you. "Hey, babygirl," he said, smiling sleepily.

"Hey," you said, your smile and tears intertwining. Your fingers laced with his, dried blood and debris now smearing over your hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Not bad right now," he answered. "Doc's got me on all kinda pain meds though."

"You scared the hell outta me," you whispered, quickly wiping the tears away before they could completely fall down your face.

Kirishima's hand reached up to hold your face, catching any of the tears that continued to fall, regardless of how you commanded them not to. "'m sorry, honey," he responded.

You shook your head and held his hand against your face "No, don't be sorry," you told him, kissing the dirty palm of his hand. Seriously, he just took a massive beating, and somehow he feels like he needs to apologize? "What did the doctor say?" you asked him. You already got some information before.

Kirishima took a deep breath. "Concussion. Collapsed lung," he said. "Doc said if everything looks good, I can go home tomorrow."

"That's good," you remarked. "I'm gonna take a few days off so you have an extra hand."

"You don't have to do that," he tried to say.

"I'm gonna take care of you," you told him.

"Pshh, I'm fine. You don't have to do anything for me," he tried to claim. Even in his words, you could tell that he was a little unsure. Red Riot was the toughest hero you knew. And Kirishima was the strongest man you knew, even beyond quirks. Kirishima moved a little, seemingly trying to move himself to the side a little. He winced with every single movement, shutting his eyes tight to brace himself against the pain. When he couldn't take it anymore, he gave up. He stopped moving and allowed tears to fall down his cheeks. "Shh, shh," you breathed, wiping his tears away. "It's okay. You're okay. Don't try to move."

"You mean to tell me I can't even make room for my girl on the bed?" he argued with himself. He was trying to make light of the situation, but his voice shook in frustration as he remembered just hours ago, when he was the hero people called when they needed someone tough. Now, he couldn't even shift his weight in a bed.

"I don't think you need to make room for me, babe," you rolled your eyes.

"Y/N, please," he asked. "Everything hurts, inside and out. I'm practically bedridden. All I want is to hold you. Please?"

You pressed your lips together, thinking of a response. You had half a mind to double down, to tell him you'd sit right next to him, but that he needed to rest in the bed. But you knew better than that. You knew he'd at least be here for the night, seeing as it was already almost nine o'clock at night. And you knew it'd be torture for him to not be able to do anything for himself the entire night. You could give him this one thing. You sat next to him on the bed, as closely as you could get to him, and you carefully laid your head on his shoulder. He was wincing before you even lowered your full weight onto him. Once you were fully situated, he took another deep breath, and his pain seemed to ease. "Does this hurt?" you asked, being careful not to press anywhere that would be too painful for him.

"Yeah," he asked, his face spreading into a sweet smile. "Best pain I ever felt."

[berberriescorner]

"Through It All"

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: There aren’t many things that put Rio on edge. Most people see a calm, cool, and collected individual. Keeping a level head is his specialty. What happens when the person he loves most needs him to be strong for both of them? Get a glimpse of what it’s like seeing him hold someone down through thick and thin, in sickness and health. If you know, you know.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS AND AUTHOR’S NOTE**

Warnings: Angst…like seriously. You’ll understand once you read the author’s note. This fic contains sweet, soft, fluffy Rio. The fic includes some of my crazy humor with a smidge of the character’s inner thoughts. If reading about gynecological procedures makes you uncomfortable, this may not be a fic for you. It doesn’t go into great detail, but it is mentioned and sheds a bit of light. If mentions of the ins and outs of fertility is a soft spot, please read with caution. It isn’t my intention to bring anyone down, but this story is based on parts of my own experiences. Again, the note will explain more.

Author/Personal Note: Okay. Where to start? So, as some of you may know throughout the past two years I’ve been getting cycles of iron infusions. This year, after making several complaints and an ER visit or two. I had an ultrasound performed, which led to me getting surgery months later (the procedure I had done recently). I’ve been spending my days at home recovering, and it’s given me time to reflect. Damn, it’s been a rough couple of years, but I’m so thankful through it all. It’s difficult having a plethora of health issues. This situation put so much added stress on top of it all. As a woman, hearing you have a fibroid. Learning it’s best to get it removed to protect your fertility is scary as hell. You get it done, get sent home, and though you have loved ones taking amazing care of you. It’s still a difficult, challenging process. At times, it’s lonely. No one but you can fully wrap your head around the emotions and feelings the body is going through. It’s pretty wild.

Anywho, sorry y’all. Let me stop rambling and get to the point. We all know how overactive my imagination is. Being stuck in bed, my mind has been wandering. I thought to myself why not take this experience and channel it into a fic. I’m hoping that this will also be a comforting story to anyone who’s been through the same experience. Here is a look at how I envision Rio taking in the experience with his lady. I plan to write at least two more parts for this. Happy reading my lovelies! I wrote this on a whim, in celebration of my birthday, so ignore the grammatical errors my loves. I may come back and do some more editing. Depends on how I’m feeling.

Word Count: 1,800+. 

Inspired By💜:

Random fun fact: Toni Braxton and I have the same birthday😆. Happy Birthday, Queen💓.

Everything was still as a deafening silence fell across the room. It was as if each occupant was afraid to utter a single word. Your mother pretended to distract herself with a Kindle book as your father paced the floor quietly. They’d share a glance each time they checked their watch, smiling at one another in comfort and reassurance. 

Then, together, they directed their attention toward the chair in the far right corner. It was tucked in a tight corner next to a window, giving little relief and comfort to your husband, Rio. He, too was anxious, but no one would ever know it. He was always able to still his facial features. Never one to give his emotions away. The only person who could read him wasn’t in the room. You were on the other side of the building and the reason for your families’ nervousness. No longer able to stand the constant glances and silence, Rio stood from his seat. He released a breath, rubbing his palms against his jeans. Turning to your parents, he stated, “I’m going to grab a quick cup of coffee from the cafeteria. Would you two like something?”

Your mother, a gentle, nurturing soul, responded for both of them.

“No, baby. We’re fine. Don’t worry. I’ll come find you if we receive news.”

Rio ducked away in a vacant spot in the cafeteria, hands folded over top of the steam of the coffee. He searched for peace and solace until a jolting vibration exploded in his jacket pocket. Fumbling for the phone, he answered without looking.

“What they say ma-. Oh, my bad. Wassup? Everything good?” Rio listened patiently before snapping. “You know this is something you could’ve handled yourself, right? I don’t have time for the three stooges bullshit today.”

He instantly felt a slight pang of guilt. Rio realized that the stress and worry of his current situation were influencing his mood. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed. Inhaling, he continued, “My bad bro. She’s been in for three hours, and it’s got me tweaking. Nobody’s giving us any damn answers. It’s a non-invasive procedure, but it’s still considered major surgery. I just need to hear she’s good.”

“It’s all good, boss. I know you’re worried about wifey. She’s a strong woman. Boss lady’s going to be alright. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. Call me as soon as you know something,” Mick responded.

“You're right. Thank you for holdin’ shit down.”

He laid his phone on the table, burying his face in his hands. The last few moments he spent with you were on repeat in his mind. Rio returned to the present, hearing the chair opposite him slide backward. His eyes connected with your father’s, and he readied himself for wherever the conversation would go.

It was no secret that the two hadn’t always seen eye to eye. The two men sat for several minutes before your father started speaking.

“I’ll be honest with you, man. You’re not at all what I envisioned for my daughter.”

“You seriously want to have this conversation right now?”

“Now wait, son. Let me finish.”

Hold up. It’s son now? Where is this going? It didn’t even sound disrespectful. It doesn’t sound like he’s trying to play me on some sucka shit. I’ll hear him out.

Rio nodded his head, giving your father the floor.

“I may not know all you do for a living, son, but I know you’ve managed to make a comfortable and safe life for my baby girl. When it comes down to it, that’s what I’ve always wanted for her. It took me some time to come to terms with it, but I know, without a doubt, that you’re doing everything in your power to make her feel protected and loved. Let me just say what I’m getting at,” he chuckled. “You’re good at hiding it, son, but I know you’re worried. Hell, so are we, but that’s alright.”

Rio’s head dropped, shoulders slumping. He took the opportunity to be vulnerable finally. Your father’s acceptance allowed him the space to do so. He felt a comforting grip land on his shoulder. Your father finished, “Baby girl is going to be alright, son. With all your love and support, she’ll be back on her feet soon. Now, you take a few more moments to yourself. Don’t be surprised when her momma wraps you up in a big hug when you head back. She’s worried about her favorite son-in-law.”

Rio chuckled, “I’m her only son-in-law, sir.”

“Even better. You ain’t gotta share. That sweet woman sure knows how to smother people in love.”

“You’re daughter is the same way. It’s one of the many things I love about her.”

“Which is why you understand my reasons for being so guarded. That’s my baby girl. Enough with that ‘sir’ shit too. Call me pops. My son may not like that, but I get a kick out of irritating him anyway. He’s overprotective of his sister.”

“Y’all gon’ try to take me out if I ever mess up, huh?”

“What I look like snitching on myself? Let’s not ever get to that bridge, son.”

The two men shared a laugh, but everything turned serious when they saw your mom power walking towards them. Rio's heart began thudding in his chest.

“Ma, what’s wrong? Did-.”

“Relax, sugar,” she cooed, rubbing a hand against both men’s arms. “The nurse said the doctor should be ready to talk to us in about fifteen minutes. Let’s head back to the waiting room.”

Fifteen minutes came and went. Your mother couldn’t help but crack a smile at both men. They both started fussing about how long the surgeon was taking. She felt sorry for the man once he approached them. The doctor, attempting to apologize, was cut off by an impatient Rio.

“You good, doc. We understand these things take time, but excuse us for being anxious. We were under the impression this would be about an hour-long procedure. How’s my wife?”

The surgeon explained himself. “That’s what we anticipated, but the process took longer. Your wife’s last ultrasound a few months back showed a fibroid the size of a plum. Sadly, it grew to the size of an orange, which would explain why things grew more difficult during her last few cycles. However, you’ll be happy to know that we managed to do it laparoscopically, and everything looks great. She’s being taken to recovery now, but we’ve decided to keep her overnight.”

All three of your family members asked, “Why is that,” in unison.

“We just want to keep an eye on her for the next twenty-four hours. Given gas was used to see things more clearly, we’d like to monitor her. We’ll need to see that she gets up and walks to get things flowing. I just want to be sure she gets it moving out of her system. Also, since she’s anemic, we just want to be extra careful. I promise everything went well, and she should be ready to go in the morning.”

Each family member felt at ease. The trio waited for an invitation to your recovery room. Though he wanted to be the first person you saw when you woke up, Rio encouraged your parents to go first. The two visitors' only rule irritated them all.

Your eyes fluttered open, and your parents laughed at the slurred responses given to your nurse. Your parents took turns kissing your forehead, expressing encouraging words. Your father, now at ease, left the room in search of Rio.

“You might want to hurry back there. She’s still a bit loopy. Baby girl has been asking the nurse, where my husband? You got my baby acting ratchet in this hospital,” he joked.

“Aye, she was like that when I met her,” he laughed, walking towards recovery.

Rio slid behind the curtain, laying eyes on the most precious sight. You were in bed, laid back, eyes closed, singing off-key as your mother held your hand, laughing. The nurse stepped beside him, giving a small giggle.

“She’s been looking for you. Ma’am, the man of the hour is here.”

Your eyes popped open as you halted the song. “My husbannnd! Hey baeee,” you winced, given the pain and having a hoarse voice.

“Mama, you back here wildin’ ain’t you? How’s our little patient doing, ma,” he directed toward your mom.

“Crazy as ever. This girl opened her eyes, looked at me, and called herself whispering. Loud as ever, she asked me if she still had a uterus. Her daddy would’ve turned red if he were capable.”

They both shared a laugh as you did your best to shrug shoulders. Wanting to give you two privacy, your mom went to sit in the waiting room. Rio turned to you, holding your hand. His lips brushed across your knuckles, and he shivered at how cold they were. Wrapping his hand around yours, he tried warming the digits.

“My momma ain’t answer my question though,” you mumbled, eyes closed.

Rio smiled, “What’s that now, mama?”

“My uterus. Sis still in there, right?”

“Yes, darlin’. What makes you think it’s not?”

“I signed them papers, man. In the event of a ‘mergency, they were going to take shawty,” you sassed, words still slurring.

Rio did his best to hold back a cackle. Clearing his throat, he replied, “Mama, you straight. Everything went according to plan. There was no emergency. The fibroid is out. It was bigger than expected. That’s why it feels like you were out for a while.”

“Aight bet. So when we making babies,” you asked, wincing again.

“First off, sit still, mama. Your body is pretty sore right now.”

“Baby, I’m drugged up! I don’t feel nothin’.”

“Second. You’ll be recovering for four to six weeks. You’re not going to be in any type of mood for all that. I believe the surgeon said no sex for two to three weeks. No babies for at least six months, darlin’. They just sliced your uterus open and stitched it back together, mama,” he explained, running his thumb across your lip.

He laughed at the pout etched on your face. Rio caressed the side of your face, kissing you gently. “On some real shit. I was worried out my mind over you, mama. I’m so glad you’re good. You’re my world. The clock kept ticking, and I was about to lose it.”

Your eyes connected with his, “I’m right here, papa. I’m good. We gonna be good. No matter what,” you whispered. Even through the drugs and drowsiness, you could feel his angst. Rio could read between the lines. He knew what you were trying to communicate. It had been on both your minds heavily. Your eyes connected with his. Rio saw the unshed tears you were holding back, and he swallowed hard, nodding his head in agreement. No matter where this path led, Rio knew, in his heart, that he loved you with everything in him.

Baby or not, we’ll still feel fulfilled and happy. My life’s purpose is to love and give you the world.

This piece was both personal and therapeutic for me to write. I truly hope you all enjoyed it. Please be sure to comment and reblog, it's appreciated. Now I'm about to go eat some birthday cake and read some amazing fan fiction😆.

Divider credit💜 : @firefly-graphics

tagging💜 : @4everbrookemarie @darqchilddaydreamz @astoldbychae @sunshine-flower

@nightlywords7 @starrynite7114 @amorestevens @fineanddandy

@rio-reid-whoreee @that-one-anxious-mango @novaniskye

@alertyoulikeitsamber @1andonlytashae @lovedlover @blkbutterfly816 @banana123pudding

[tazmiilly]

hii sorry if this has already been answered but I see that in abw ford is often drawn with a wheelchair or cane and I was just curious if there was a specific reason behind it? (like condition, etc.) tbh I personally find the drawings rly comforting as someone w chronic pains I heart ford and how u draw him sm <3

This was answered with the help of my partner so i say “we”

The reason we started doing it is because it’s fucking awesome, but there wasn’t anything specifically in the ABW Journal 3 passages that alluded to him having mobility aids, if that’s what you’re asking. Everything we’re about to discuss is stuff that we just came up with on our own.

Without going into too much detail, in February of ‘82, Ford fell and fractured his right tibial plateau. Due to several factors - the fate of the universe being at stake, Ford’s own fragile mental state, the looming presence of Bill, etc. - Ford did not immediately seek treatment. He tried to “suck it up” and “tough it out” for quite a while, which of course only exacerbated the injury, and by the time he finally did go to a hospital, his leg had been permanently damaged. He walks with a limp and has long-term arthritis in that knee.

Additionally, to protect his mind from Bill, Ford had Fiddleford perform a DIY sci-fi craniotomy on his parietal lobe (this is their universe’s equivalent of the metal plate being installed in the head). Again, though, circumstances being what they were, it was a messy procedure, and Ford has been dealing with the side effects of the surgery ever since.

Most of the time he walks with a cane, but there are plenty of instances in which he uses a chair, such as if he has to travel long distances, navigating difficult terrain, or even if his pain is just particularly bad that day. (Caroline note: I made a whole post about his various mobility aids! You can read it here!)

So the big difference in this universe - what makes it “better” - is that Ford is not forced to be alone and adrift for thirty years. Ford’s problems don’t go away immediately, but he doesn’t have to face them on his own. In this world, he has access to help and, though he struggles to at first (this is Ford, after all), ultimately accepts it. We have a ton of notes about where the exact point of timeline divergence is, what exactly happened, and a great deal of these do contribute directly to his use of mobility aids, but I think the really important thing is that he doesn’t feel he has to stand alone. He can depend on others for help and he can use a cane to walk around and he can use a chair if he needs a break.

[w2soneshots]

Brother’s best mate -W2S

words: 0.8k+

warnings: smut, swearing, alcohol consumption.

summary: you and harry meet through your brother ethan. After a night spent with the side girls you crawl into bed with your favourite guernsey boy.

notes: I haven’t written anything like this in ages!🤭 hope you enjoy🔥🫶🏼

Liked by wroetoshaw and 301,583 others

y/username: spending time with my favourite people💞 (even if it's on a golf course😒😂)

Tagged: @faithloisak @behzingagram @wroetoshaw

-comments-

faithloisak: aw I love you

-> y/username: ❤️🫶

y/nfanpage21: she's so 🌼🧺☕️🧘‍♀️🥐 coded

user19470245: omg they went to golf together😭

user83271430: the pic of ethan and faith is adorable

Last year I moved to London to be closer to Ethan when Faith fell pregnant, to help her and to spend more time with the both of them. I also bought an apartment so I'm just a 20 minute drive from them. I finally met the sidemen at the gender reveal. I'd never actually been introduced to them before, which was weird because they are basically the reason Ethan has a career and they helped him so much a few years ago when he was in a really dark place. Me and Harry didn't immediately hit it off, don't get me wrong I thought he was attractive but he's also very awkward and was wary that I'm his best mates sister.

After almost five months of being friends with the group, going to little parties or just hanging out with them me and Harry kissed. I knew it was bound to happen since we had both quickly developed a large crush on each other but after it had happened we'd decided not to tell anyone (especially Ethan) before we knew we were actually good together. It took just one month before we were officially dating and decided it was the time to tell everyone. Of course we told Ethan first, he was shocked but (to our surprise) happy that his best mate and sister were dating. Everyone else was so excited.

We've now been together for 6 months and only told the fans recently. Today I'm going to dinner with: Talia, Faith and Freya for Talia's birthday. Harry had a more sidemen shoot today so wouldn't get home until six. I had a shower, dried and styled my hair, applied some makeup then chose an outfit. I was on my way out just as Harry arrived back. "Wow," He glanced down at my outfit before returning his attention to my face "you look beautiful." I smiled "thank you Haz, I'll be home by ten." "You better be, I can't wait to rip those clothes off."

I arrived outside of the restaurant, thanked the uber driver then spotted Talia getting out of another car. I quickly walked towards her "happy birthday!" We excitedly hugged each other. "Thank you! Freya's already inside." She beamed. "Ok. I think Faith's running a little bit late, let's just go inside." I replied. We headed into the fancy restaurant and were taken to our table where Freya already sat. When she spotted us she immediately leapt from her seat. She said happy birthday to Talia then we all sat down. Faith arrived a few minutes later and we ordered our drinks.

After eating our starters, mains and desserts me Freya and Faith split the bill (not before trying to convince Talia to let us treat her for her birthday). Thankfully I had only had two drinks so I was just a little tipsy. We left then ordered a taxi. Freya was dropped off first then Talia and I was third. I said goodbye to Faith then hopped out.

y/username

Liked by miniminter and 480,231 others

y/username: my girl @taliamar 's birthday dinner with @freyanightingale and @faithloisak 🤍💫

-comments-

taliamar: I had the best night ily😘

-> y/username: ily

freyanightingale: 💓💓

y/nfanpage21: omg you look stunning!!

user91037494: I love that the side girls are actually friends irl it's so cute

When I got up to mine and Harry's apartment I unlocked the door, opened it, kicked my shoes off and dropped my bag. "Haz?!" I shouted through the apartment. I walked through into the bedroom, Harry sat waiting patiently for me "Hey." My mouth curved into a smile "hi." I jumped onto the bed next to him. "Have fun?" He asked. "Mhm" I hummed.

I turned to him and pecked his lips. The kiss deepened, he grabbed the back of my thighs and pulled me onto his lap. I reached my hands down to the belt wrapped around my waist, I pulled it off and threw it to the floor. I moved Harry's hands from the back of my thighs to my ass. He groaned into the kiss then rushed to pull the zipper down on my dress, then he pulled it off and over my head, leaving me in just my matching black lace bra and underwear set. Harry broke the kiss to look down at me "you're so fucking beautiful." He rasped. I pulled his shirt over his head, followed by his pyjama pants. While Harry unclipped my bra, allowing the straps to fall from my shoulders.

Within just a few minutes we were both completely naked. Harry flipped me onto my back. I whimpered as I rubbed my thighs together, desperate for any sort of friction. "Harry, please." I cried out. "What do you want baby? Use your words." "I need you to fuck me."

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader | p. 8

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

a/n I'm so sorry for the hiatus. My mental health isn't where it should be, and my brain isn't in writing mode. I finally got this written down, and I left it alone for a while until I felt a bit more creative again. Hopefully, this chapter is good enough. Love you all!

-> <-

June 1983 . . . again

It’s so silly to be upset about something as ridiculous as a birthday. Big deal! You’ve had plenty of those in the past.

This morning you crumpled up a piece of paper taped to your fridge into a tight enough ball that your fingers began to pierce the flesh of your hands. Then, you toss the stupid note into the trash. Your mom left again. This time she and Brad are going to his vacation house.

Brad is yet another nobody she met after her shift at the strip joint in the sketchy part of town. Rich men flock to escape unhappy marriages, and pray on the poor sad strippers. Your mom keeps having too much hope that one of these men will pay-out and he will buy her a big fancy house. Unfortunately for her, their ruse will always draw her in. She does a few lines with them, and lays on her back for less than she’s worth. How could she even bring herself to this?

Eddie does try to cheer you up when he shows up to your house for the annual birthday celebration and the lights are dim throughout the house, and you’re slumped over your sofa like a deflated balloon. Somehow he coaxes you to get off of that couch. He encourages you to get yourself dressed by handing you shirts and handing you pants until he gets a grunt of approval out of you.

After you put on your clothes, you’re practically carried out to his van. You hesitate. After your mom swore something bad would happen if you get into his van, you’ve been sneaking rides now and again. Eddie’s also been giving you lessons when she’s not around. You frown. Gripping the handle tight, and with purpose, you swing open the passenger side door.

“Yes!” Eddie pats the seat next to him. Your boldened confidence sparks joy in him. That is until you give him the meanest mug known to man. And, you don’t mean to be harsh. You actually don’t realize that Eddie’s heart sinks when you grouch like this.

Rubber hitting gravel tunes out your huffing and puffing. When you hit the pavement, the shocks thud underneath you. Eddie says he’ll fix those eventually. He can’t fix the band equipment rolling in the back though. That’s something that just happens because he’s the only one in the band with a big enough rig to store all of this junk.

“I forgot to ask if you’re hungry,” Eddie says over the gray cloud covering your head.

You thunk your head against the window. It’s nearly eleven in the morning, and you haven’t had anything to eat. You’re not hungry. But, your stomach disagrees letting out the most aggravating groan. Why do bodies do that? The moment that someone mentions food, or when the room gets quiet - your stomach growls. It’s humiliating!

“I could eat,” you hold your stomach.

The way through to you is almost always food, or a brand new book. Eddie doesn’t have the time to drive all the way to Indianapolis to get you books from The Bookshelf, which is your favorite place to receive books from (or so Eddie can guess because he hasn’t gotten you anything you hate yet). So, he instead takes you to the next best place; Benny’s Diner.

It’s a hot spot. That’s mostly because it has been almost the only spot since ‘53. Yes, you’ve heard enough of Wayne’s stories from his younger years. He and his brother, Al, spent enough time downing milkshakes and getting brain freezes there. A part of you wants to ask Eddie more about his father, and if he is truly as bad as this town says he is. Eddie pretends not to recall a lot of his youth that was spent with his father, but behind those big brown eyes he’s got stories he could tell if he wanted too.

You slide your way into a booth across from Eddie after being seated by a snooty waitress with low hanging jowls and no patience for the teenagers, who, arguably, gives Benny’s the most buisness.

Some jock from the basketball team clambers over the back of the booth like a monkey to scoop fries off an innocent girl’s plate. Rightfully so, she swats at him, then aims a bottle of ketchup at his nose.

“Hey Wheeler,” the man dubbed ‘King Steve Harrington’ cups his hands around his mouth like a bird call to get the attention of Nancy Wheeler, who is just a booth and a half away with a thick chapter book between her fingertips.

Nancy meekly looks up without saying a word.

“It’s summer time,” he snorts. “What are you reading for?”

Tommy, another bone-head, clocks Steve in the shoulder with an open palm. This seems to encourage Steve’s prepubescent behavior. And, Steve jogs over to the table to bother Nancy some more.

What more is there to say about Steve? Steve Harrington. The man had enough brain cells to form one thought, and that was usually “party at my house!” Yes, after every basketball game that the Tigers won (which is a lot of games to be fair), you could find almost every member of the student body at his house.

It seems that Steve doesn’t care that his parents are never home. You wonder what they do to live in such a cushy house that’s bigger than most of the houses combined in Hawkins. Maybe you wouldn’t mind living like this if your family was rich too.

“What can I get you?” The waitress holds her pad of paper in one hand, and a sparkling red pen in the other. She puts all of her weight on one hip, so she can tap the other foot on the tile below. Her patience is running thin, and those kids on the other side of the restaurant are really starting to make her angry.

You speed through the menu, “strawberry milkshake and fries.”

Eddie orders a burger that he asks to be left a little bloody. When she glares at him, he moves on to order a vanilla milkshake without a wince when she snatches his menu from his hands.

Usually, Eddie will order some kind of burger that he has to add extra bacon and extra onions on top of. His favorite line is usually “bloody and stinky.”

If you weren’t feeling so bummed about your birthday, you might ask him if he’s on a diet. That always revs him up to push his stomach out and to talk with his belly button. Sometimes Eddie can be so childish - and really, you find him funny.

Today you wanted to be under five feet of dirt. You could finally get some peace and quiet after all that humming and worrying that goes on in between your ears. Your mom should be worried about you - not the other way around.

Eddie watches you become the booth behind you. Someone might as well have thrown water on you, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you started sobbing ‘I’m melting!’ right about now. Not like he’s seen the Wizard of Oz or anything. It’s not important enough to ever be mentioned out loud.

“Happy birthday?” Eddie tries to cheer you up. “Look, I know it’s not a cake and some candles. I don’t know. My dad and I never celebrated my birthday, and look how I turned out.”

You try not to be mean, so you let a sarcastic comment slide off your tongue. “You have tobacco in your teeth.”

The habit Eddie promises himself to quit. It’s just cigarettes, weed and the occasional sip of beer or two (or downing half a case by himself) for him. He’s got to stay healthy if he wants to make it to fifty. That’s high balling his life span. Okay, let’s say Corroded Coffin makes the big leagues in a couple of years, and Eddie at least wants ten good years with them - thirty. Thirty years is well enough for Eddie Munson. Er- that math isn’t right. Is it?

Eddie sucks the tobacco leaves out from his teeth, while you pick at the napkin in front of you. Seeing you so down nearly tears him in two. Having an absent parent himself, he knows the disappointment that’s eating you from the inside out. For years, Eddie would wake up in hopes that his dad would just show up completely sober. If he’s really optimistic that day, then his mom would come too. They’d be a big happy family and live in the suburbs. There would even be space for uncle Wayne.

Eddie knows the fantasy is just that. But, it isn’t about him. Your head is nearly touching the table, and he’s not so sure how to fix this. There isn’t really a way to fix this, is there?

The waitress returns with two shakes that she places down in front of you. A straw emerges from her apron pocket. She leaves you.

Your milkshake is questionably pink, but the real chunks of strawberries pressing against the glass make you forget what you’re about to consume. A glass of whatever the chefs get in those prepackaged containers that come in powdery. With a little mix of some milk, you’ll hardly taste the chemicals. with chunks of strawberries pressing against the glass. A wedge of whipped cream towers atop the shake with a strawberry dipped right on top.

Something that Eddie realized recently is how bright your eyes get when you’re excited. Inflating like a balloon, you sit straight up to stick the straw into the thick shake. Your lips kiss the straw without much thought, as Eddie begins to drift away from the restaurant.

In front of him, Eddie could dive deep into why he’s chosen you as his best friend. Because at first Wayne was just babysitting the neighbor kid and you could have easily been ignored from the next day after. Eddie finds you interesting.

Your lashes flutter away from him to the space behind him. As though in slow motion, his fantasy snaps.

“Jeff!” The sugar has already rushed to your brain in the absence of food, and in a fog you hiccup, “Hi, Gareth!”

Eddie whips around in time, before the two boys get too close to the booth. Their clothes are sticking to their bodies, and a fair amount of sweat graces their foreheads. Aside from being sticky, their mood is pleasant. Jeff tucks a helmet under his arm, as he approaches in a cool step.

Gareth swipes the sweat from his brow because really the hair sticking to him makes him itch, before causing a rash due to him mindlessly scratching his forehead off. He resists the tempting sting.

Meanwhile, Gareth also refuses to admit that the reason he stopped Jeff on their bike ride into town is because you’re sitting at a booth across from Eddie. Despite knowing how close you are as friends, there’s a grumpy troll deep in his belly that’s stomping on his gut that tells him to ‘just make sure.’ He rolls his shoulders back, and begs his face to quit frowning.

“Who knew the circus was in town?” Jason Carver cups his hands around his mouth. “Freaks!”

Chrissy Cunningham whacks him across the chest for being rude. As much as she likes Jason, his attitude towards the nerdy group that they all share the same high school with does really bother her. She puts up with him because she’s already introduced him to her parents, and maybe in a few years he’ll calm down.

While Jeff, Eddie and Gareth are more or less used to the treatment they receive from the goon squad, you can’t help but notice the way Gareth shoots a glare behind himself. This goes ignored by Jason, as one of the girls at the table has a spilled her soda. Surely, Jason would have caught the venomous stare and thrown Gareth halfway across the room. You don’t go looking for that sorry of trouble.

“‘Sup!” Jeff greats Eddie and yourself. “What are you two up too?”

“It’s her birthday,” even though he does like Jeff and Gareth, Eddie wishes the boys could take a hint and scram. Jeff has other intentions and does the polar opposite by plopping down nearly on Eddie’s lap.

“Happy birthday, girl!” Jeff wishes. “Got any big plans for the day?”

You shrug, “my mom is out of town, so I don’t really have anything going on.”

“What’s she out of town for?” The boy scrunches his nose up, and Eddie elbows him in the side. A desperate attempt on his part to get Jeff to shut-the-hell-up. “Business?”

“Sort of,” if only the business your mom conducted brought more money back to the house, instead of drugs.

A tickle lifts inside your throat that you swallow down. Perhaps the glossiness in your eyes could be hidden behind your lashes, and suddenly your drink becomes a lot more interesting. Flicking the condensation on the glass, Jeff leans over to whisper to Eddie about something.

“Gareth,” Jeff turns to the boy standing awkwardly at the head of the table. He hasn’t dared sit next to you, yet. “Can you entertain the birthday girl? I gotta talk to Eddie about something out back.”

Gareth opens his mouth to protest, but the words die flat on his tongue because Jeff and Eddie have already scooted from the booths. Their “business” is a classic exchange. Gareth’s been apart of a few of these dealings. In some ways, Eddie’s a bit of a douche come pricing on his supplies.

Everyone at Hawkins has bitten into the apple per se. It’s only when they need him that Eddie’s treated decent. So, Gareth supposes Eddie has his reasons to up-charge certain clientele.

There’s no word as to why Gareth gets the treatment, but he supposes there’s a reason or two.

Someone loudly clears their throat behind Gareth. It’s the waitress from earlier holding two hot and heavy plates of food. Gareth apologizes to her rolling eyes, before sliding into the booth across from you without much thought. The waitress drops the food off, then without another word she scurries off back to the kitchen.

“Jesus,” Gareth stares at the grease pile in front of him. “What did Eddie order this time?”

“They definitely spat on that,” you question your fries. “You know Eddie.”

“Oh, yeah,” treating society like they treat him, as always.

Gareth pushes the plate to the right where the sun kisses the burger through the window. It doesn’t look any more appealing in the light than the shadows in front of him. The silence between you and he is filled with drumming that comes from Gareth tapping the table.

You offer him your fries just to get him to knock it off. It’s not annoying, but his fidgeting is making you just as anxious. The tension subsides when Gareth pops a fry into his mouth.

“Can I ask?” He swallows, before speaking.

You raise and drop your shoulders unsure you want to answer. But, Gareth takes this as permission.

“Your mom has been out of town for a while?” It slips as more of a question, but the statement is put out there. Your mom is an absent parent. The only one you have.

“She came home for a short time with-,” you don’t know why you’re still defending her. Maybe she’ll come around one day and she’ll realize how great having a child has been. Doubtfully, “her coworkers. Er- but she suddenly had to go out of town. Meetings.”

The coworkers in question are the bums that stay after hours to give her a reason to party. Lately, the parties have bled into the living room. You’re stuck holding out in your room until they sober up enough to slobber out onto the street like a pack of dogs on the loose.

Dogs behave better than them.

“Meetings,” Gareth repeats as a mutual agreement not to press anymore questions, then quickly pops another fry into this mouth. This time he misses the landing, and the fry darts off of his cheek.

It’s hard to remember when the two of you hardly got along. That Gareth had been stubborn enough to decide that you would become a distraction for Eddie and the band would suffer. It now seems that there’s a different storm brewing instead of the one before it.

You cover your mouth, but the sweet melody brushes past your lips. Gareth goes a bit pink in the face, as he covers up the glee that he has at least amused you today.

The diner has quieted by the large group of teenagers getting up, and leaving through the front door. Nancy stays at her table reading a chapter book, and is most certainly grateful they’ve all gone. She won’t admit to keeping Steve Harrington’s phone number, but she will tuck the napkin tight in her pocket.

Music plays overhead that you hadn’t heard when you first came in. It’s fifties. An appropriate theme for how old the diner looks. Bright red booths. Checkered floor. Stainless steel instead of gold metal. It’s classic.

Gareth watches your eye wander away from him, as he decides how he wants to pull your attention back in. If he didn’t know any better, Jeff and Eddie were taking a suspicious amount of time to get back. That’s not to say he’s complaining. Any time getting you away from Eddie is getting Gareth that much closer to becoming bolder about his intentions with you.

Your heart skips inside your chest when Gareth’s knee knock into yours underneath the table. In not so many words, you hear him out and you understand him. A bit of relief settles your belly, but not before another aggravated weight of tension.

Pavlov and his damn dogs! That familiar jingle of the front door has both Gareth and you scooting back in your chairs. The heat from his body fades away from you.

Eddie and Jeff return.

“I told you they wouldn’t kill each other,” Jeff snorts.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Actually,” Gareth stands, so Eddie could have his place in the booth again. “We should get going.”

“I got something to do later,” Jeff pats his left pocket at his hip. No one is as amused as he is by his joke, but you pity him a laugh.

Before they can leave, a hand swings out to grab Gareth by the wrist. Eddie’s got wild eyes and a goofy grin. The boy is devilish, but he’s not the devil.

“What?” Gareth raises his brow.

Eddie retracts his grasp, and instead replaces it for an open palm reaching towards Gareth. “You owe me ten.”

“Eddie,” you scold. “He didn’t even touch your burger and he only ate a bite off of my food.”

Over the last couple years, Eddie has gotten better and better at the theatrics. When your at school together, he has this little habit of standing on top of lunch tables. You’ve gotten cautious now, and you’ll move your lunch before he kicks goalie kicks it across the room. Does he practice these monologues? One will never know with him.

“Not for breakfast, sweetheart,” his tone is firm. You’ve never been ‘sweatheart’ before. Sure, you have nicknames for each other. That’s just - weird. “I saw you with Jeff the other day. Ten bucks, big boy.”

Jeff and Gareth smoke sometimes from the stash that Eddie gives Jeff. After upping the charge for Gareth, they have a method that outsmarts Eddie. Or, at least their method used to outsmart him. Despite flunking a few classes, Eddie’s quick as a whip in his street smarts. There’s no getting around him!

“Come on,” Gareth protests, but reaches around for his wallet. “You can’t share amongst your good friends?”

“There’s nothing in the rules that says you can’t,” Eddie explains, “but, when you’re explicitly smoking from him to snag a free deal - Gareth, I feel duped!”

“Eddie,” you scold with open palms face down on the table. “It’s my birthday, and you can’t torture my friends on my birthday.”

Eddie snorts in disbelief, “it’s Gareth.”

You’re stone cold. That look might just pop Eddie’s head clear off. When did you give a shit about Gareth?

There hasn’t been a time yet that you’ve expressed any concern over Gareth. Jeff - yes. There was the time that Jeff had a paper due, you went through his mistakes in red ink, so that he could make corrections. You’re really good at writing. You should be with all the time you’re stuck in those notebooks writing away, and never letting anyone take a peak. Or, when Jeff needed to learn how to bake cookies for his Home Ec final. You were there too. But Gareth? Were you ill?

Eddie’s expression softens as he releases Gareth.

“Fine,” he sighs, “I’ll let it go.”

Gareth isn’t quite sure if he should thank you in front of Jeff and Eddie. Mostly because Eddie keeps one-eyeing him over his burger. Jeff wants to ask how you learned that trick on Eddie, as he can be quite persistent when he wants something done his own. Meanwhile, you’re snacking on another fry like it was nothing.

Before Eddie wants to start any more trouble, Jeff whisks Gareth away in a flash. They’ll probably smoke together, while digging an even bigger trench that they’re in with Eddie.

You’re left to enjoy a quiet meal with your best friend. Occasionally, you beg him to chew the food in his mouth with his lips shut. You’ll give up sometime when the burger is halfway down and done with.

Eddie won’t let you pay even though he’s practically down to dimes, quarters and dollar bills. It’s your birthday, and you’re going to be treated like the golden princess you are. Anything to let Eddie see your gleaming white smile is a win to him.

You don’t have a chance to spend much time with Eddie because he’s got an unspecified “something” to do today. It’s probably the band. They’re practicing this afternoon.

With that, you hop back into the passenger seat of his van. Eddie takes the long way around to your house, so you can practice your drum solo on his dash board. Slowly, you’ve picked up on a few of Eddie’s favorite songs. One day you might out-drum Gareth, and you could join the band.

Only in Eddie’s fantasies - not that he has a lot of fantasies about you. There’s an occasional rip in his friendship with you, as he likes to put it. A fluke. You’re not a fluke. It’s all him.

Anyway, you’re landing flat foot in the dirt right in front of your abode. Eddie wouldn’t let you walk the few steps across from his trailer. It’s silly how he does that. You wave like he’s going to be leaving for a journey to a far away land, instead of driving a couple feet and parking his van in front of his trailer.

You’ve got plenty of clean-up left to do inside of your home. There’s dirty dishes piled in the sink, the counters are covered in food and you might as well sweep the floor since you’re in there. The bathroom could also use a mop. Oh, but you might as well clean the entire bathroom. Because what’s the point in mopping if the bathroom isn’t clean?

The clock on your mother’s bed stand reads close to four in the afternoon when you finally finish making her bed with freshly washed sheets. It’s taken you hours, but the home is just starting to smell less like dread and a little more like hope - and lavender. You got a deal on room spray from the bargain store in town.

Stretching your arms way above your head, you decide to celebrate with a hot shower. The water running over your aching shoulders would feel good right about now. Plus, the towels are fresh from the wash as well.

Clean.

It’s such a simple, yet rewarding feeling. You don’t get to experience it all that often.

Cigarettes have stained the walls of your home, and buried themselves deep into your carpet fibers. There’s even a few burns here and there from your mother’s habit of falling asleep with a cigarette between her fingers.

You wrap yourself in a towel and forget about that for a moment. It’s just you and a bottle of lotion across your skin.

From your bedroom window, you can see Eddie pulling into his trailer once again. Back from band practice, Eddie skips up the steps to his trailer. You stop in the moment when Gareth jumps out of the passenger side. A dark t-shirt with missing sleeves and a pair of worn down denim shorts differ from this morning’s sweats. You don’t mean to stare, but really is it that awful to look over the menu? You’re not even ordering anything.

Snorting at yourself, you close the curtain for your own privacy to change and to loosen the thoughts bleeding your innocence. You throw a shirt over your head, and suddenly hear a single knock at your front door. It’s loud like a knock anyways.

Dressing yourself decently in a comfortable pair of pajamas (you have no plans to go anywhere), you head straight to the front door to figure out what the noise could be. Maybe your mom had come back, and she drunkenly forgot her keys.

Actually, the knock is a much prettier sight. There’s a bouquet of flowers in bright rich purples. You wonder who remembered your favorite flowers are these little orchards with the white center. There’s a card poking from the center of the bundle with Eddie, Jeff and Gareth’s nearly illegible handwriting. You hate to call their new band-mate ‘Freak,’ but he has signed the card as well. It says ‘Happy Birthday,’ and you coo.

You pick the bouquet off the porch by the glass vase the flowers are displayed in. Inhaling sweet aromas of warm days reading a good book in a field, you could cry.

“Thank you!” You wave to Gareth and Eddie, who are hiding neck deep in the engine of Eddie’s van pretending not to watch your reaction. They don’t really know much about girls, but you are one and so they try to make you feel different than them. They want you to feel special.

Eddie half waves like he’s too cool to admit what he’s done, but Gareth pops his head from the van and spins around to get a good look at you.

You hardly notice Gareth’s lingering gaze, as you’ve already closed the front door of your house with you inside.

It doesn’t take long for the phone to ring.

“Hello?”

“Are you ready?” Robin’s voice comes through clear and bouncing with energy.

You snicker. “Ready for what?”

“My mom is on her way to pick you up, you’re sleeping over at mine tonight,” she says as a matter-of-fact.

“Am I?”

“Eddie called me,” she explains, “Happy birthday by the way - oh! Your mom is a bitch.”

Robin begins rambling about the times your mom has irritated her because that’s what you two do. Among all things, Robin is your sibling by terms of the longevity of your friendship. She’s the only person to get away with calling out your mom directly to you.

“Robin,” you pause her rant. “If you want me over, I need to get an overnight bag ready.”

“Oh, right,” she clears her throat. “Five minutes.”

“Five?!” You exclaim. The line goes dead.

Oh, Robin. How you love her.

-> <-

[July 1983]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax