#the 'we will break you in half' squad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sp0o0kylights · 2 months

Text

"Valentines Day is a capitalistic scam made to sell chocolate and flowers!" Eddie Munson bellowed, leaping to the top of a cafeteria table not even ten minutes into lunch.

"Do you think he was born like this, or just dropped on his head as a baby?" Heather asked, rolling her eyes as the super senior began waving his arms around, getting way too into his annual “anti-valentines day” rant.

Steve, who'd tuned out the dramatics in favor of trying to figure out how he could ditch school, only heard her because she’d begun running her foot up his leg.

Directly in front of Patrick.

As if half the school didn’t know he planned on asking her out after school.

Long over being a part of these kinds of games, Steve kicked out, forcing Heather’s leg off his.

He did it harder than he intended and immediately winced, as if he hadn’t meant to do it at all. Aimed a sad little look at her, softening his eyes in the way he knew ladies loved while murmuring a quiet "sorry.”

A pudding cup was offered as an additional apology--which Heather, thankfully, accepted.

Crisis averted, Steve used the movement of handing the cup over to get his legs well out of Heather's range. He had other things to think about today, and getting drawn into whatever drama Heather was trying to brew wasn’t on the list.

Particularly given the basketball team as a unit had started snubbing him out.

"Newsflash ladies! Your man isn't taking you to some shitty restaurant because he loves you, he's doing it because he hopes you'll give it to him in your car!" Munson continued, voice growing impossibly louder.

A crude gesture followed, involving hip thrusts and hand jabs.

Several of the cheerleaders shot him disgusted looks as he did it.

"Definitely dropped on his head." Carol said, glaring at Munson as his little group of freaks and geeks cheered him. "More than once."

Steve hummed an agreement, more on automatic than from actually listening. He knew how to look like he was paying attention, even if his head was deep in possible escape plans.

If he dipped at the last minute to the bathroom on the way to fifth period, Tommy wouldn't have time to stop him and he could make a break for his car…

That just left making up a plausible enough excuse as to why thee Steve Harrington, whose single status was the current hot topic of the school, left school early on Valentines Day.

("Candy, sex, the overwhelming affection of all the ladies." Tommy drawled out that morning, practically preening. "Valentine's Day is the best holiday man. Just look at all this!"

He waved a hand at his locker, which was absolutely covered in paper hearts.

"The rally squad put hearts on the lockers of everyone on the basketball team, Tommy." Carol argued, rolling her eyes. "Steve’s is practically buried in them.”

Tommy opened his mouth to respond, no doubt with something else teasing and rude, but Carol’s elbow caught him in the gut first.

“If you keep acting like this you're not getting any sex." She warned.

"Aww baby, don't be like that. You know you're the only one for me." Tommy teased, with a wink that prompted Carol to smack him on the shoulder.

Laughing, he added: "Besides we can't fight or we'll miss our favorite game. Which poor gal thinks this year is the year Steve will take her out on a date!"

Carol allowed Tommy to put an arm over her shoulder, the two of them turning knowing grins on their friend as a singular unit.

Even if Steve hadn’t felt like their friend in a hot minute.

Not in the way he used to.

"I do love watching them stutter through their little confessions.” Carol admitted, like this wasn’t something they’d loved doing since middle school. “I wonder if anyone will ever top Cindy Komer."

Steve almost wasn't fast enough to cover his wince--that particular incident had been painful for him and Cindy.

Steve still had no idea what he'd said to make the then-freshman cry.

He thought he'd been nice about turning her down, but judging by Carol constantly quoting what he'd said, Steve had a feeling he'd accidentally been an asshole again.

Not that anyone ever thought it was accidental.

“Steve? Hel~lo? Are you listening?” Carol said, snapping to get his attention and God did Steve hate that.

Never realized just how much until Nancy but after she’d pointed out that Carol treated him and Tommy both like her dogs, well.

It was hard not to notice--and be a bit resentful.

“God you keep doing this, you’re turning into such a space case.” Carol continued, the edge back in her voice. The same one she’d been using for a while, like Steve was on her last nerve. “Please tell me you’re not still mooning over Nancy fucking Wheeler.”

“No.” He snapped, only to know instantly that was the wrong move, and try to fix it before Carol blew up. “No--I’ve just already had to fend someone off today. Like first thing--I was barely out of my car.”

There, that should keep Carol and Tommy both off his back for being “angry” and it wasn’t even a lie. He really had been asked out earlier, though the girl had been gracious about his rejection.

Of course, this kind of instant redirection came with a price--and in this case, it was being absolutely hounded for more information.

“Oh shit who!? Was it that Buckley girl?” Carol perked up immediately, like a hunting dog scenting prey. “I swear she stares holes in your head, she’s so weird…” )

"This isn't about romance! It's about showing who has the most cash, gets the most sex! It's a pathetic social ritual you're all falling for!” Munson yelled, jolting Steve back into the present. “I bet none of you even enjoy it!”

"Tell that to all the girls Steve’s dated!” One of the younger basketball guys hollered, prompting a wave of laughter from the rest of the cafeteria. “They seem to enjoy it plenty!”

Steve couldn’t see who had said it, and should have felt the normal wave of smug warmth that the team had his back.

Except his team had already proven they didn’t.

Were in fact, siding more and more with Hargrove, just as Tommy was.

They were rapidly approaching a watershed moment. Steve could feel it, the same way he’d always been able to tell when a crowd was about to turn.

He was losing, but was still on top of Hawkins social spaces enough, had caught it early enough, that he could turn everyone’s favor--if he wanted.

Emphasis on ‘if.’

Munson spun to face his table, hair whipping to smack him in the face. The guy had clearly been trying to grow it out, but right now he looked like one of those poodles Carol's mom loved so much.

So said Carol, anyway.

"You sure about that?" Munson challenged, a crazed grin breaking across his face. "Rumor has it King Steve lost his groove ever since Wheeler dumped him!"

Steve grimaced, though he was secretly thankful Munson went with "dumped" instead of "cheated on" (or any of the other vile words Billy had flung around, spreading across the school in the sick, crawling way rumors moved.

Hargrove had been positively brutal about the whole Jonathan and Nancy thing, and the only reason he wasn't here now to spin this whole situation against Steve was because the guy always vanished at lunch.)

Tommy's face morphed into an affronted snarl, hands slapping down on the table. He turned expectantly to Steve, waiting for "The King" to get up and "handle" Munson.

Like Steve even cared about this dumb high school shit anymore.

It took him a moment to realize Steve wasn’t planning on doing anything. Was in fact, going to remain perfectly quiet, other than an eyeroll and half-assed middle finger in Munson’s direction.

Tommy let out a disgusted scoff in his direction and then decided to handle things himself.

(Like that had ever been a good idea.)

“Shut up, Freak. The only game you have is in the prison showers.” He snapped, half rising from the table. “Isn’t that why you keep your hair long? So all the boys will actually fuck you?!”

Whistles and yells lit the air, though Steve didn’t miss how the girls at the table looked taken aback at the sheer vitriol in Tommy’s voice.

Even Carol looked startled, eyes sliding to meet Steve’s as if to confirm she hadn’t just imagined it.

The three of them had always been good at this kind of mindless high school banter, but this over the top, crude shit?

It wasn’t Tommy’s style.

It was Hargrove’s.

(That was its own growing issue.

The way Tommy was gravitating towards Billy.

How Carol kept expecting Steve to act like he used to.

That she blamed his “outbursts” on Nancy, snidely mentioning that Steve had better have learned his lesson about “changing his personality for pussy.”

Even now Steve knew they were only defending him because Munson was the one saying it.)

“I didn’t realize Harrington still had his attack dog!”

Munson put a hand against his heart as though injured, staggering dramatically backwards.

“I thought you were too busy putting your tongue up Hargrove’s ass to bark at people!”

Tommy immediately fired back, letting loose an uninspired string of curse words and something about Eddie being queer again. Steve didn’t hear the specifics--didn’t care to hear it, even as things started to spiral out of control.

All he wanted to do was go home.

Ideally before Billy got back from lunch and decided to make a spectacle himself, because Steve could feel that coming just as he could everything else.

He was running out of time to come up with an excuse to get out of here without making a production out of it, and Munson wasn’t someone he wanted to piss off today, given he’d half hoped to buy weed off the guy before he ditched.

…Which was looking more and more unlikely given Tommy had just screeched some insult that had put Munson’s sights back on Steve.

“You sure? Cause Harrington looks like he’s just gonna sit there and take it, just like he takes everything Hargrove and Wheeler and anyone else throws at him.”

He leered, leaning forward as if to see into Steve’s very soul.

“I don’t know if anyone else has noticed, but our beloved King here hasn’t exactly been defending his crown. If anything, he’s abandoned it.”

The world stopped.

This was the first time someone actually called him out on the fact that he often let whatever crap Billy spewed go. That Nancy and him had a few awkward encounters publicly, with at least one of them starting a rumor that she’d told Steve to fuck off.

(She hadn’t of course, but Carol had stopped running damage control, and Steve was feeling the effects of her ire.)

Silence echoed, and Steve realized with a dawning sort of horror, that Munson was waiting for a response from him.

Just as the entire cafeteria was.

The catalyst was here, brought on early by one Edward Munson.

With a startling amount of clarity, Steve realized he was done.

With his so called friends, with the girls who’d tried corning him all morning, with Hargrove and just--everything.

He was over it.

If Billy wanted the crown so bad he could fucking have it.

(If Tommy wanted to pretend he was tougher than he was by mimicking the dick, then he could have that too.)

“This is stupid.” Steve announced, dropping the masks he so carefully wore. The ones he kept having to fix, because the Upside Down and its related demons (human and non) kept taking chunks out of it.

He stood, feeling the weight of the room press down on him as he faced them all down.

“Yeah--!” Tommy started to pile on, seeming to think Steve was about to unleash hell, and got the surprise of a lifetime when Steve turned and jammed a finger in his face.

“Shut up.” He snapped.

Knew instantly he only got away with it by the fact that he’d caught everyone off guard.

King Steve did a lot of things, but he rarely blew up.

“This is stupid.” He reiterated, voice booming across the lunch room, “ You wanna fight? Fine, but leave me out of it.”

“The King doesn’t want to play? Why I never thought we’d see the day!” Munson clucked his tongue, and without missing a beat Steve turned to him.

“For someone who is always screaming about nonconformity, you sure are happy to attack anyone who doesn’t do what you want.”

Steve’s voice was loud, but he wasn’t screaming. Wasn’t yelling or throwing his arms around.

He didn’t need to. Had never needed to.

“I heard you going off on that guy whose lunch you're standing on yesterday, because he wanted to watch the Colts play.” Steve continued, voice cold. “Half of your friends are terrified of you, because you’ll scream at them just like you accuse us of doing--and let’s be real here, Munson, you do it more.”

In a dramatic move that absolutely, 100% came from Dustin and his theatrics, Steve shrugged his letterman jacket off and bunched it into a ball.

“You might as well crown yourself King, because you’re the exact same as the rest of us. Here--you can start with this.”

Cocking back an arm, Steve let the jacket fly. Watched with everyone else as it landed neatly right at Eddie’s feet.

Shell shocked, Munson’s eyes drifted from Steve down to the letterman jacket and back. They were massive, those stupid eyes of his, but at least it meant Steve could see the realization wash over the guy in real time.

Steve should have felt smug about it. His past self would have.

Presently?

He just felt tired.

“You’re welcome to jam it up your ass.” He finished, before giving his own sarcastic half bow to the room.

The cafeteria was dead silent. Not a fork was scraped, or a loud piece of chip chewed. All eyes were on Steve, some waiting to see if Eddie would let him have the last word, others just shocked to see Steve lose his shit in front of them.

Idiot he was, he tried to rally anyway.

Even Tommy, who’d partly stood up, hands pressed against the lunch table looked shocked.

“What the fuck Steve!?” He sputtered, and it wasn’t long before half the basketball team was muttering similar remarks.

They were ignored.

Whispers ripped across the room when Steve turned on his heel, striding towards the exit and making it clear things were over, but Tommy didn’t give up.

“Fuck you Harrington!” He hurled at his back, Carol now standing and placing a restraining hand on his arm. “You’re not fucking better than any of us!”

Steve didn’t even look back.

"That's my point Tommy." Steve said, loud enough to be heard. "No one is better than anyone else. You lot are all just buying into your own bullshit.”

Then he was slamming through the doors, and out into the sunlight.

xXx

He didn’t want to go home.

Not anymore, which was ironic in a way that made Steve’s face screw up in a grimace.

Here he’d been dying to go to his stupid house all day, and now, after losing his shit and undoubtedly, the last of his social standing, he just didn’t feel like being by himself.

All alone, in a house too big for him, full of nothing but dark corners and a phone that never rang.

So instead, he wandered, reminiscing on how Valentine's Day used to be his favorite day of the year.

Steve loved the gesture of it all--the romance, the wooing. The butterflies floating in one's stomach, mixing with fear of rejection and a burning kind of hope towards starting something new.

Of course, Steve also had always had a girl in mind, when he celebrated. Now, after Nancy…

He did not.

It felt weird to go to Skull Rock--the place he himself had made into Hawkins hottest makeout spots. Likewise all the local restaurants were off limits--too many adults knew how much he loved the holiday.

Steve didn’t want to face that. The expectations, the knowing winks that would slide into uncomfortable frowns. Any possible advice given wouldn’t be appreciated, and the last thing Steve wanted was to get the “everyone has an off season, son” speech.

So he’d stayed away from his usual haunts. Explored some storefronts instead, the Beamer parked in front of Family Video as he wandered.

Had an entirely too peaceful two hours, which of course, meant he had to bump into someone.

At least, Steve thought dully, whole body tensing in preparation, it was Munson.

Not Hargrove, or Tommy, or hell--the children, demanding he help them fight some other fucked up creature the government had accidentally summoned.

“Hey Harrington.” Munson said, and it took a moment for Steve to realize the guy was embarrassed. “I uh, I need to talk to you.”

Steve just stared at him.

“If you couldn’t tell from earlier,” He warned, “I’m a little done talking for today.”

Or any day, for the foreseeable future.

“Yeah no--I, I got that. I--okay.” Eddie stopped rocking on his heels, before giving his entire body a shake, like the guys sometimes did while prepping for a game. “Hear me out, and then you can deck me or leave or whatever makes you feel better.”

“I’m not going to deck you.” Steve said, exasperated and frazzled and not wanting to do this whole song and dance a second time.

Not that it mattered, because Munson had already launched right into whatever it was he needed to say.

“There’s this book right? My Uncle got it for me. It’s a fantasy book all about this big battle and there’s these wizards in it, and--” He stopped himself, shaking out his hands.

Like he realized he was rambling and needed the movement to get himself back on track.

“I always--I guess I saw myself as a Gandalf kinda guy? Like I was this shepherd herding these lost sheep. A person who intimately knew all the dark forces of the world and could be a shield for them. Do not pass and all that.”

He chuckled, but it was weak, and he killed it almost immediately.

“...Okay?” Steve said, knowing he was supposed to say something here, even if he had no idea what.

Maybe something about how Gandalf the Grey wasn’t exactly a shepard given he’d led the hobbits straight into Mordor, but saying that meant admitting Steve knew what Lord of the Rings was, which wasn’t a conversation he felt like getting into.

Particularly not because he’d only read the damn things after losing a bet to Dustin and Mike both.

Munson nodded, as if acknowledgement was all he needed.

“I thought that’s what I was doing. I wasn’t and I didn’t realize I wasn’t until you pointed it out. You shouldn’t have had to point it out. You shouldn’t have had to say any of what you did.” He rushed to add, oddly sincere.

"Is this…" Steve might be confused but catching on, an uptick at the corners of his mouth as the tiniest spark of amusement leaked through. "an apology? Are you trying to apologize right now?"

Eddie groaned, flinging his head back. "No!”

Then immediately;

“Actually yes, but--”

Which caught Steve off guard enough that he laughed, and had to hide it with a cough.

“I am sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said that shit about you, especially not about you and Wheeler. It's more than that though.” Munson swallowed, before squaring his shoulders. “It’s that you were right."

“I was right?” Steve repeated dumbly, because fuck, he couldn’t believe it either.

Not that Munson heard him. Eddie always had been hard to stop once he started, and Steve had been in enough classes with the guy to know the train had left the station.

"I did yell at Jeff because he wanted to watch that stupid football game.” He began, and Steve got a front row seat to watch as one Eddie Munson word vomited his way through a myriad of emotions.

“I fuckin’ lost it on Grant because he missed band practice to drive his sister to some thing. Gareth looked like I was going to hit him when I asked if I had really been that bad--same exact look he gave Hagan and those other assholes that cornered him in the bathroom two weeks ago!”

“Tommy did what?”

Steve was promptly ignored.

(Or more likely, Eddie simply didn’t hear him, too lost in his own voice to realize Steve had said something.)

There were a lot of mentions of the Gandalf guy. Where Eddie thought he’d gone wrong, and even something about a glowing eye thing that had Steve a little concerned until he realized Munson was talking about Sauron (and also made Steve realize that he’d been pronouncing Sauron in his head wrong, oops.)

“I called up this friend of mine who graduated. She’s always been no nonsense, so I asked her for her advice.” Munson said, finally seeming to slow down a little. “She told me I might as well eat my own doctrine because I sure wasn’t living by it, and that if I wanted to fix it then I should start by apologizing. To everyone but--to you, first.”

Eddie took a step back, winging out his hands as if to present himself.

“So here I am. Apologizing.”

A pause wherein neither of them did a thing, which caused him to awkwardly add; “To uh, you. Harrington.”

“Yeah I got that.” Steve said, because what else was he supposed to do here? “Good for you? I guess?”

“Most people either forgive a guy or tell him to fuck off.” Munson pouted, and mimicked like he was kicking at a rock.

It made Steve want to laugh again, though he shoved the urge down.

“Someone once told me,” He said instead, speaking slowly to make damn sure he didn’t let slip this piece of advice came from a middle schooler. “that apologies without actions don’t really mean anything. They’re a start--they let people know you’re aware you screwed up, but no one’s going to trust you if you don’t follow through. So I can forgive you, but I think you’re better off doing this with one of your friends.”

Someone who would hug it out, or at least tell Eddie how he could be better, at least.

Rather than argue, Munson just titled his head back, eyes to the sky. Like he was really thinking on the words, before giving a sort of accepting sounding noise.

“Trying too.” Steve admitted with a sigh.

“That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it?” He asked, head coming back down so he could stare at Steve.

“The thing in the cafeteria was a good start.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie grinned.

“Yeah. Don’t think Hagan’s gonna see it the same way though.”

“We were falling out anyway.” Steve admitted, and hated how easy it was to say.

That they really were just going through the motions of friendship. Had been, ever since Jonathan had punched Steve in the face.

“Think you lost more than just him as a friend, to be honest.”

“Pro tip about the actions thing, Munson?” Steve said with a snort, once again unsure of where this conversation was going, “Nice people don’t typically point out when someone’s turned into a social pariah.”

“No, I get that. Say,” Eddie’s grin had grown, which Steve would have taken poorly except he invaded Steve’s space with a goofy little hop. “I think you might be in need of some new ones!”

“New…friends?” Steve hesitated, very unsure of what was happening.

Munson promptly stuck his hand out. “Yup! So--hello, my name is Eddie Munson, and I am here to apply for the position as your friend!”

Steve snorted, but the harshness of it was taken away by the grin on his face.

He took Eddie’s hand, noting how doing so made the older teen’s smile widen.

“Nice to meet you Eddie, I’m Steve.”

Excited, Eddie waived their arms up and down, with far more enthusiasm than the gesture required.

“How about we cement our new friendship by renting a truly terrible horror movie and drowning our woes with my other good friend, Mary Jane?”

Then he waggled his eyebrows, like that was something scandalous.

“Tempting me along with weed, huh?” Steve mused back, sticking his hands in his pockets once Eddie let him go. “Guess you’re a little like Gandalf the Gray after all. Just don’t send me on any missions.”

“Steve Harrington.” Eddie gaped, pure delight spreading across his face. “Have you read Lord of the Rings!?”

He got a shrug and a sly; “Maybe.” in response.

It was worth the barrage of questions, even if the rapid fire pace of them nearly gave Steve a headache.

(Just as it was worth it several months later, when Steve was comfortable enough to instigate wrestling matches with Eddie over the dumbest of things.

One particularly semi-drunk tussle over the remote led to an interesting discovery when Eddie popped a boner, and then frantically tried to escape when it brushed against Steve’s leg.

Instead of panicking--or letting Eddie bolt in his panic, Steve just dropped his whole weight down, effectively pinning the slimmer man to the floor.

“Steve.”

Eddie said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear it, the word filled with desperation.

The kind of tone someone whispered a prayer in, a sort of pleading that Eddie did better with his eyes than his voice. Or would have, given his own were firmly scrunched closed the second he realized he’d been caught out.

Except--

“Not right now I’m thinking.” Steve told him absently.

Which he was. Speed thinking even, if that was a thing.

Because if two plus two equaled four (which it did) then feeling the exact same, fluttering excitement about Eddie’s boner as Steve had Nancy’s breasts, equaled…

“The fuck? Steve--”

Steve shushed him.

That pulled a frustrated, embarrassed groan from Eddie that went directly to Steve’s own dick, not that it needed much help waking up.

“I think I’m having one of those crisis’s Robin is always accusing the basketball team of having.” Steve informed Eddie dutifully, the dots done connecting.

Eddie, still refusing to open his eyes, snorted.

“Whatever man. Can you at least be decent and hurry up with the beating? This is embarrassing enough.”

“I’m not going to beat you up.” Steve said, thankful that his brain managed not to add some shitty comment about the entire town being awash in rumors of Eddie’s sexuality. That he’d confirmed it here wasn’t exactly a surprise.

“I’m going to try something. If you don’t like it, let me know.” Streve added, before screwing up his courage and leaning down.

That of course, got Eddie to open his eyes.

“Wha--” He managed, before Steve’s lips were on his.

For one single, blissful moment, Eddie Munson’s mouth was too busy to talk.

“Yeah?” Eddie said, voice wrecked, and oh, Steve liked that.

“Huh.” Steve muttered, when they broke for air. “Well that’s new.”

Liked the way Eddie looked at him more, hesitant, but with heat in his gaze.

Steve had always been good about knowing what to do with heat.

He leaned back down, pecking lightly at Eddie’s lips, and was delighted to find Eddie not only let him, but kissed back.

“Not bad, Munson, but I think I could give you a few pointers.” Steve muttered, nose ghosting alongside Eddie’s. “Let me show you…”

One boyfriend, several weeks, and another interdimensional monster later, Steve found himself socked in the arm by none other than his coworker, Robin Buckley.

In her defense, she’d confessed her love for Tammy Thompson, still somewhat drugged on the Starcourt bathroom floor, only for Steve to tease her that at least his boyfriend could actually sing.

“God you and Eddie Munson.” She muttered after, smile on her face. “How did that happen?”

Steve knocked his shoe into hers, returning the grin unabashedly.

“So remember last Valentines Day?” Steve started, all too eager to finally tell someone who understood about the best thing to ever happen to him.

Robin of course, would soon also be ranked in that same chart, but Eddie didn’t need to know that. )

#DADDYS BACK #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #pre steddie to steddie #0o0 fanfics #be gentle with me I JUST got my computer back lmao #this was a warmup I finished out #Ive been writing at work on my lunches #yes I have been working on adopt a jock #and the third part of the holiday hellfire fic #I think I stared at that steddisy one once #maybe #IDK this whole ass month has been a blurr

3K notes · View notes

going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

Text

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 3 ] || [ Chapter 5 ]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.6K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 4: John?

The lads sat in the common room of their floor at the base. Gaz and Soap had just finished a round of Gran Turismo on the PS4 they had set up, while Ghost sat at a table in the corner on his work laptop.

“Ye think the Captain’s married?” Soap mused aloud once he set down his controller on the coffee table.

“What kind of question-” Gaz quipped in confusion as he turned to look at Soap.

“He never talks about a missus Price...” Soap explained. “or second mister…” He added.

“That’s not a question you want the answer to.” Ghost said in a dismissive tone from his corner.

“Why not L.T.?” The Scot grumbled.

“People’s lives are private for a reason, Johnny.” Ghost said with a shrug and a tired look.

“Ye, but the Captain’s not like you, L.T.” Soap retorted with a chuckle.

“If anything, he’s worse, Johnny.” Gaz remarked as he looked at the two other men. “Simon’s reserved but Captain Price is pretty open.... except for that side of his.”

Soap went silent for a long moment, seeming to ponder what the other two were saying.

Then, the Scot shook his head. “If he was married, he’d be easier to deal with, I reckon.” He grumbled. “And I think I’ve heard of him going out and getting laid before.” He added. “Last year, especially.”

“You’ve heard that too?” Gaz asked as he bounced a bit in his seat and straightened up, intrigued. “Fuckin’ hell, I thought it was just me. I’ve been dying trying to keep my mouth shut about it!” Gaz added.

“So d’ye think he hasn’t gotten laid lately, then?” Soap asked. “He’s been bloody moody since early last year with Shepherd and Graves…” He added.

“Oh, he definitely has a major case of blue balls.” Ghost remarked, drawing both the other men’s attention to him and causing their jaws to drop.

“L.T.!” Soap said with a surprised chuckle. “That’s bad of you! You’re not being the Captain’s good ol’ boy…” He joked.

“Oh, piss off. Just saying. It’s obvious the boss’ pent up.” Ghost remarked.

“I say we get him laid.” Soap remarked with an impish expression.

“And how do you suggest we do that? We hire him a prostitute?” Gaz asked with raised brows.

“No? Obviously not!” Soap said with a head shake.

“Good, can’t imagine the Captain appreciating that very much.” Gaz added.

“No, but we’ve gotta think of something! He’s impossible to deal with.” Soap remarked.

“I’ve told ‘im to his face and he asn’t done shit to fix it yet.” Ghost remarked from the corner.

“You’re kiddin’? L.T. you told him to get laid?!” Soap gasped in surprise.

“No, I’ve told ‘im to get ‘is ‘ead on straight.” The Mancunian quipped and shrugged, turning his attention back to the laptop in front of him.

“What about a dating app profile?” Gaz suggested and the Mancunian and the Scot both turned to look at Gaz with intrigued eyes.

“I’m getting my spare phone!” Soap announced as he got up and rushed out of the room.

“He has a second phone?” Gaz asked Ghost who simply shrugged.

It took almost an hour and a half and a few beers in their systems (thank God they were on break for the evening), but eventually tey had set up a fake profile for Price.

Sure, the pictures were grainy at best, but they worked well-enough. Courtesy of Soap having a habit of taking covert pictures for his snapchat and sometimes catching Price in them... (and other times just taking pictures of the man directly).

It had been mostly Soap and Gaz doing the work, however when it came down to writing the bio, Ghost gave quite the helpful input… By the time they were done, it genuinely looked like it had been Price writing it.

The lads high-fived each other. Even Ghost joined in! He looked to be in a good mood… Maybe it was the beer, or maybe something he was doing on his phone. Gaz had spotted him texting someone and chuckling to himself.

As Soap began swiping mindlessly across all the pictures of people on the Swiping page, Gaz sat next to him, peeking over his shoulder.

“People are going to read the part on the bio that says we are not Price, right? Because I don’t want ‘em to feel like we’re catfishing.” Gaz remarked.

“Don’t worry! If they don’t, we’ll unmatch!” Soap announced as he kept moving his finger repeatedly and quickly to the right. He was liking everyone, in order to get a fairly good sample size for Price. They didn’t know what kind of person the Captain liked after all…

Just as Soap’s finger is slowing down due to the amounts of profiles he liked… He spots it. And then Gaz does.

“No way!” Soap interjects. “I know this person! I matched with them on my own account!” He remarks as he clicks on your profile.

“Bloody hell, me too.” Gaz remarks, causing Soap’s head to turn and his jaw to drop.

“Wait, ye’ve got a Tinder too?” Soap asks to which Gaz nods.

“Yeah, to get laid.” He says with a shrug and a mischievous smirk. “Our chat was bloody funny.”

“Mine too!” Soap quips and chuckles. “Had a right laugh with them earlier.”

“Let me see?” Ghost asks, curious, and he slides over, bending over the back of the couch to look over Soap’s other shoulder.

“Small world. They matched with me too.” He remarks dismissively.

Both Gaz and Soap turn to look at Ghost like they’ve seen, well, a ghost.

“YE’VE GOT AN ACCOUNT TOO, L.T.?!” Soap shrieks, louder and more high-pitched than a grown man with his natural timber should.

“I’ve got a life, MacTavish.” Ghost retorts.

“No, we know that, sir.” Gaz says softly.

“Just didn’t think ye’d be on dating apps.” Soap nods.

Ghost simply shrugs and pulls back, walking back to his corner, in an armchair which he took as his own in the last hour.

“Was that who was makin’ you laugh earlier, Simon?” Gaz adds.

Ghost simply gives him a look that can be interpreted as a tired ‘Yes’, before he looks away to keep working on his laptop.

“Should we Like their profile, then?” Soap asks with a chuckle.

“Uh… yes?” Gaz adds, laughing along. “I can’t wait to see their reaction to it being us behind the screen.” He adds.

Soap clicks the green heart button to Like your profile and then immediately hops on DM once it presents a Match. Before he can write some nonsense, Gaz steals the phone from his hand and starts typing on the cracked screen.

John: well hello again you: hello? you: how can it be again though? you: never saw your 'captain' before in my life. John: no but uve seen US John: sorry! allow us to introduce ourselves formally

“Sir, does your profile have you listed as Simon?” Gaz asked as he raised his eyes from the screen. Once Simon nodded, he resumed typing.

John: our names are kyle john and simon

“Johnny, not John, mate.” Soap corrected Gaz right after he hit send.

John: johnny* sorry

They could only imagine the look on your pretty face as you realized who they were.

you: get out! you: no way!!!!! you: all three of you?! John: ye you: wait is this what simon meant when he called himself a traveling consultant? is he a soldier like you?

“L.T. they’re already accusing ye of lying to them.” Soap quips, causing Ghost’s eyes to shoot up from his laptop.

“Lying? Huh?!” He asks in confusion as he puts his laptop aside and rushes over to the couch. He sits on the armrest next to Gaz so he can look at the screen.

He then snatches the phone from Gaz’s hand, pulls off his right glove, and types a reply with now bare fingers on the cracked screen.

John: I wasn’t lying. John: I just omitted the truth. I don’t go about bragging about my career. you: sure sure sure ‘John’. you: sooo you: is this some kind of weird joke? are you playing a prank on me all matching me individually and then using a fake account?

Gaz snatched the phone from Ghost again.

John: kyle here and no John: we really want our boss to get laid John: he’s miserable you: well im not the one night stand type really you: its why i didnt accept to get together with any of you.

“L.T. YOU TRIED TO SLEEP WITH THEM?!” Johnny asked with another gasp.

“So did you!” Ghost retorted.

“I never thought you were the type!” Soap said with a smug little smirk on his lips.

“Oh piss off, they rejected us all.” Ghost retorted. “So it shouldn’t matter.”

As they kept bickering, Gaz remained laser-focused on texting you and, just as they got heated, he spoke up: “They accepted.”

“Wait wha-” Soap said as he whipped his head down to look at the screen, just narrowly dodging Gaz’s nose and Ghost’s head.

“Bloody hell they did!” Soap yelped as he pulled his head back.

“They wanna go out with Price and ‘see where it goes because he seems like a nice man that needs a break from the three of you’?” Ghost read from the DMs on the screen.

“Ow.” Soap quipped in mock-injury.

The three men raised their eyes and met each other’s, before all their faces morphed into confusion.

“Did they… Did they just reject all three of us for a man that isn’t even aware of this account?” Soap asked aloud, undoubtedly voicing the thoughts in all their minds.

“It seems that way.” Simon said as he looked away.

They all went quiet, each of them quietly contemplating all their life’s choices that led them to the moment they got rejected for a person that isn’t even ‘real’.

After long minutes, Gaz spoke up. “How are we going to tell the Captain he has a date?”

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

IF THE GIF DOESN'T WORK FOR YOU: CLICK HERE

taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthoney , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader

1K notes · View notes

ghouljams · 2 months

Text

Hockey au my light my love. The most chaotic boys. The Goon squad. The bane of coach Price's existence.

"Just talk to 'er mate," Soap nudges Ghost's shoulder. Poor guy has been staring you down all night, glaring like you walked in with his brother.

"What am I s'pposed ta say," Ghost grumbles over the lip of his beer. His eyes hardly budge from staring, watching you like a hawk as you laugh with your friends.

"Oh use a pickup line," Gaz chimes in, leaning around Soap at the bar.

"Good on ya Gaz," Soap pats the man on his shoulder in agreement before turning back to Ghost, "pickup line breaks the ice, get 'er to laugh and youre in."

"You're not suppose to break the ice," Ghost turns to look at his teammates. Soap groans, Gaz snorts, taking a sip of his drink.

"Go up to her and say something hockey like," Gaz chews his lip, thinking, "you should get two minutes for tripping, because I just fell for you."

"That's a good one," Soap says, almost surprised, smacking his hand against Gaz's chest.

"I know," Gaz boasts, sipping his beer.

"Got a better one though," Soap grins.

"Let's hear it," Gaz tips his head, yielding the proverbial floor.

"You want my sweater? 'Cause I think you need my name and number."

"Pretty good," Gaz nods, "how about this one-"

Ghost stands from his seat as Soap and Gaz go back and forth. Pickup line, he can do that, that's easy. He's good looking, he can talk to pretty people in bars. He stops next to your table and watches you turn to look up at him, your smile good natured and your brow raised in question. He stares at you a moment longer, God you're pretty. Prettier up close, he can't take his eyes off the sparkle in your eyes or the crooked tilt of your lips. You're waiting on him to say something, you deserve something good for putting up with his staring.

"Hi," he starts and your smile grows a little wider and everything flies out of his head, "I'm Simon, I'm a goalie."

"You play for the 141 right?" You ask, grabbing your drink to take a sip. It's something dark on ice, it tips in the glass like bourbon. Ghost nods. "You've got a .9 save percentage."

".921," Ghost corrects, "and six shut outs."

You set your drink back on the table and grab your jacket, Ghost doesn't move when you stand, even if it means you nearly bump into him. He wouldn't be mad if you did. He's hoping for it actually.

"You should take me home," you tell him, and Ghost wastes no time settling a big hand on the small of your back to lead you out into the cool night air.

He only realizes the mistake he made in the morning when you shake him awake the next morning and tell him, "We have practice at six, get your ass up."

Ghost groans and cracks his eyes open to stare at you, half asleep. "We?" He asks, not sure what you have to do with him or his practice schedule.

"New team manager nice to meet you," you pat his cheek and roll out of bed, "get your ass up Riley, we got a long day ahead of us."

Ghost sits up, watches you fish around on the floor for your underwear and tries to make the cogs in his head turn the right way. He's gotta stop getting into fights, he thought you said team manager. That- he'd know if you were his manager. He knows the team manager.

You toss a tee at him with a 'what are you doing?' look, "hell are you sitting around for ya fuckin' muppet? You got practice."

Ghost grabs the tee and tugs it over his head with a grumbled swear. You better stop yelling at him or he's gonna fall in love with you.

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley x oc #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x oc #oc: goose #hockey au #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick

638 notes · View notes

asbealthgn · 1 year

Text

(based on this post. it ended up longer + less lighthearted than i anticipated)

The ding as the microwave timer finishes lines up perfectly with a frantic pounding on the front door, and it makes Steve jump.

He just got home from the championship game twenty minutes ago. Now he’s heating up a TV dinner because he forgot to eat beforehand. He spends about one and a half seconds dithering over whether he should get the tray out of the microwave before or after answering the door, but the pounding has only gotten louder. So he leaves it where it is.

“Alright, I’m coming,” he mutters as he heads for the front door. “Goddamn.”

When he opens the door he barely even has time to process that it’s Eddie before the other man is tumbling inside, jetting out of sight back towards the kitchen.

“Eds?” Steve calls after him, shutting the door and locking it. “What’s wrong?”

There’s no answer. Back in the kitchen, Steve can’t see Eddie at first. Then he hears the shallow breathing coming from under the table. Steve leans over and sees Eddie curled up there, arms wrapped tight around his knees, eyes wild.

“Baby, what happened?” Steve asks. He gets on the floor and crawls under the table, pushing a chair out of the way so he can sit next to Eddie. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders, pulling him in. Eddie’s shaking like crazy and as he leans into Steve, his shallow breaths turn into sobs.

At a loss for what else he can do, Steve strokes Eddie’s hair, murmuring soothing things in his ear. He doesn’t know what caused this, but he’ll do everything he can to make it better. Eventually, Eddie’s sobbing subsides and his breathing evens out. He’s still shaking, but this is progress.

He lifts his head and looks at Steve. His eyes are puffy and red, cheeks streaked with tears. Steve brushes them away, tucking a lock of Eddie’s hair behind his ears. “Can you tell me what happened, sweetheart?” he asks softly, “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“I—” Eddie says, eyes welling up again. “I don’t—” He shakes his head sharply.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Steve says, “You don’t have to.”

Eddie shakes his head again and takes a shuddery breath. “I don’t understand what happened,” he says, voice strained. “It was like—shit from a movie. It shouldn’t be possible.”

Something about that is a cold drop of fear in Steve’s belly. Impossible things that happen in Hawkins are never short of catastrophic.

“What was it?” he asks.

“She—she started lifting and—and breaking—”

“Who?”

“Chrissy,” Eddie whispers, voice tiny and fragile.

Steve rubs a hand up and down his arm, trying to transfer comfort through his fingertips. “Cunningham?”

Eddie nods. Steve sort of knew Chrissy when he was still in school, only because she was on the cheer squad so they ran in similar circles. He thought she was sweet, but didn’t really know her that well other than that. He definitely didn’t know that she and Eddie knew each other.

“So—” Steve shifts. “When you say breaking—”

Eddie lets out a distressed sound, somewhere between a whimper and a sob. “I don’t know how else to explain it,” he croaks, shaking his head. “It was like someone was pulling on her, lifting her up, and—I don’t know how, Steve, because there was nothing touching her but she just lifted off the ground and then—all her bones—”

He cuts off as the tears take over again. Steve holds him tight as he cries, his own dread pooling in his stomach. This definitely sounds like some Upside Down shit. He needs Dustin, or Robin. Someone who can investigate this and figure out what’s happening. But for now, Steve can hold his boyfriend, do what he can to help.

When Eddie’s breathing starts evening out, he lifts his head off Steve’s shoulder. “The cops—they’re gonna think I did it,” he whispers, “I—I don’t know what to do, I don’t—”

“Eds, breathe,” Steve says, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re safe here. No one knows we’re together, so they won’t come looking for you here. You can hide out here until we can clear your name.”

“But—how is that even possible?” Eddie asks, eyes wide. “What happened—no one will believe me. I don’t know why the fuck you even believe me.”

Steve nods. “I can’t really explain it, like, literally, I don’t know how to, but this kind of thing has sort of happened before,” he says. He takes Eddie’s hand and squeezes it. “There are people who are smarter than me who can help. I promise.”

Eddie keeps watching him with those big eyes.

“Do you trust me, Eds?” Steve asks softly. After a moment, Eddie nods. Steve smiles. “Good,” he says. He kisses Eddie’s forehead. “We’ll figure it out.”

After a while, he coaxes Eddie out from under the table and sends him upstairs to change into pajamas. Steve takes Eddie’s keys and goes outside to pull his van into the garage. Dad’s car is currently at the airport, so there’s an empty space. If this is still going on when his parents get home in three weeks then he’ll just have to figure something else out.

Back inside, he spares another second and a half’s thought to the TV dinner still languishing in the microwave. It’ll have to wait. His boy is more important.

He takes the stairs two at a time, only slowing when he hits his room so he can ease the door open. Eddie is in bed, curled up under the covers, staring blankly at the wall. Steve changes quickly into pajamas and then gets in bed next to Eddie, pulling him into his arms.

“You’re safe, Eds,” he murmurs against Eddie’s hair. “I promise.”

The problem is, he can’t really promise anything. If the Upside Down is open again, Steve can’t guarantee anyone’s safety. He thought it was over, that the gate was closed for good when Joyce blew up the Russian machine. He thought he could keep Eddie away from this dark and twisted world. But if Eddie has to be dragged into it, then Steve will do everything he can to make Eddie feel safe.

They fall asleep clinging tight to each other, like maybe it’ll stave off the shadows.

“Hey!”

Steve looks away from the TV at Family Video to see Dustin and Max barging through the door. “Steve,” Dustin says as they approach the counter.

“Did you guys see this?” Steve asks, gesturing to the TV. He’s not sure he can reveal how much he actually knows without revealing how he knows it, but it’s definitely important to get the kids aware that the Upside Down could be involved.

“How many phones do you have?” Dustin asks, completely ignoring the news broadcast.

“Someone was murdered,” Steve says.

Dustin gives him an exasperated look. “How many phones do you have?” he repeats.

The hell is this about? “Uh, two,” Steve says, glancing at Robin. She looks just as lost as he feels. “Why?”

“Technically three if you count Keith’s in the back,” she adds.

Max and Dustin share a significant look. “Yeah, three works,” Max says.

Nodding, Dustin slings his backpack off his shoulder and plops it on the counter. Steve frowns. “What are you doing?” he asks just as Dustin shoves the backpack hard, sending it tumbling to the floor inside the counter along with several tapes. “Whoa, what are you—”

“My pile!” Robin shouts as they back away and Dustin launches himself over the counter.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Steve says, throwing his hands up as Dustin’s feet knock over another stack of tapes. “Not my tapes!” Dustin completely ignores him, heading straight for the computer. “Dude! What are you doing, man?”

“Setting up base of operations,” Dustin says matter-of-factly, typing away on the keyboard.

“Base of operations?” Robin asks as Max joins them behind the counter, having gone the long way around.

“Stop,” Steve tells Dustin, “Get off of that.”

Dustin doesn’t budge. “No,” he says, “I need it.”

“Need it for what?”

“Looking up Eddie’s friends' phone numbers.”

Steve’s stomach drops. What the hell does he know about Eddie? Why does he need to get in touch with his friends? Shit, Max lives across from Eddie at the trailer park. Maybe she saw something. Maybe they think Eddie’s guilty.

“Seriously, guys,” Robin says, collecting tapes and rearranging them on the counter. “Maybe on a Monday you can play around in here like toddlers, but it’s Saturday. It’s our busiest day.”

“Alright, look, Robin,” Dustin says, putting up a finger in her direction but not turning around. “I totally empathize but this cannot wait until Monday.”

“What, ‘cause calling all of Eddie’s friends is an emergency?” Robin asks.

“Correct!” Dustin says.

Shit shit shit. What do they know? Steve needs to get them the hell out of here before they decide to go calling the cops on Eddie.

“Do you want me to strangle them or do you want to do that?” Steve asks Robin, trying to distract himself from his panic.

She grins at him. “We could take turns.”

Dustin turns to Max. “Can you just fill them in while I do this?”

“Fill us in on what?” Robin asks. She and Steve both turn to look at Max, who sighs.

“We think there might be something going on with the Upside Down,” she says.

Steve feels Robin’s hand shoot out and lock around his wrist. He glances at her and sees the panic on her face. Weirdly, all he feels is relief. So Max and Dustin’s investigation is about the Upside Down, not about accusing Eddie. That’s definitely positive, all things considered.

Max glances at Dustin and then back at Steve and Robin. “The murder happened right across the street from me,” she says, “The girl that got murdered was Chrissy Cunningham, and I saw her going in with Eddie. Honestly, he might be guilty, but the lights were flickering around when it would have happened. And when he left, he looked terrified.”

Yeah, Steve can vouch for that. Who wouldn’t be?

“So, we’re trying to track down Eddie to find out what really happened,” Max says, gesturing to Dustin. “We need to use your system and your phones to call around and see if anyone’s heard from him.”

Steve swallows. “Uh, that might not be necessary,” he says.

“I know you have a weird vendetta against him,” Dustin says, not looking away from the computer as he keeps typing, “But it is imperative that we find Eddie immediately.”

“No, I get that,” Steve says, sighing. “I’m saying I know where he is.”

Dustin stops typing and turns around. “What?” he asks, looking dumbfounded. “How?”

Steve scratches the back of his neck. No taking it back now, he guesses. “He, uh, came to my house last night,” he says, “That’s where he went after Max saw him leave.”

“Did he tell you what happened?” Max asks.

“Sort of,” Steve says, “He was really upset, obviously, so he couldn’t really—”

Dustin waves his hands frantically. “Hold on, wait,” he says, shaking his head. “I thought you and Eddie didn’t even know each other. Now suddenly you’re close enough that he went to your house?”

“Long story?” Steve offers weakly.

Robin nudges him with her elbow and gives him a significant look. “One that I would really like to hear,” she hisses. Okay, so she’s on to him. Maybe that’s not so surprising; they basically share a brain. And he came out to her a few months ago, so the pieces are all there.

At the very least, the kids accept that Steve and Eddie know each other and abandon their ridiculous scheme to call all of Eddie’s friends. They want to go to Steve’s house right away to talk to Eddie, but Steve refuses to drive them until his and Robin’s shift is over. They threaten to bike there, but Steve eventually manages to convince them that there’s no way in hell Eddie is opening the door for anyone.

So once their shift wraps up, Steve, Robin, and the kids bundle into the Beemer so he can take them back to his house. He’s apprehensive about this, not sure exactly how Eddie will react. But he knows Dustin well and will probably recognize Robin and Max by sight, so surely he’ll know Steve didn’t bring strangers around. Right?

He parks in the driveway on the off chance that someone drives by at the exact wrong moment and sees Eddie’s car in the garage. Urging the others to be gentle, Steve unlocks the front door.

“Eddie!” he calls, not wanting to worry him with the sound of the door. “It’s me!”

“Hi!” Eddie’s voice calls from the kitchen, sounding significantly less distressed than he did this morning. “Baby, did you know you left a TV dinner in the microwave?”

He appears in the entryway looking soft and a little rumpled in a pair of Steve’s sweatpants and a green crewneck. His eyes widen in surprise and horror as he sees the others, but their heads have all snapped to look at Steve. Dustin’s eyes in particular are bugging out of his skull.

“Did he just call you baby?”

#everyone take bets on whether they try to play it off or own up to it #never used a TV dinner as a motif before that's a first for me #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet

3K notes · View notes

probadbatch · 17 days

Text

You know what I really like about Phee?

She is ride or die with these boys and Omega.

Need somewhere safe to lay low now that you're finished with Cid? Phee will take you to her home and see that you are welcomed like family. You need help tracking down intel on a top secret imperial project? Phee's on it. Want to break into an imperial prison and free a world class douchebag so you can break into an even more secure black ops site later? Phee's got you, no questions asked.

Yeah, back in the first half of season two it probably was just that she had the hots for Tech and liked having some extra muscle with her on her adventures. But by the time she takes them to Pabu, it's super clear that she cares deeply about all of them. Lyana tells us that Phee has never brought anyone to Pabu with her but we see her bring the squad there like it was the most natural obvious thing in the galaxy.

Yeah she and Tech had their almost-thing but even now when Tech is (supposedly) gone, she sticks around. It was never just about what she wanted from him. If it was, she'd be gone too. Maybe she stuck around a little for Tech's sake, to honor him, but mostly it's about how much she loves them all as her own family.

And just like CF99, she'll do anything for her family.

#tbb #the bad batch #star wars #phee genoa #tbb spoilers #bad batch spoilers #saw some bullshit and since the best way to respond to bullshit is to love even harder - here we are! phee is great! i love phee!

478 notes · View notes

frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 9 months

Text

part two to this little thing 'cause i saw these tags on the last part from @stevesjester and actually kicked my feet and giggled about it

After Pretty Boy kissed him, Eddie walked back to the staff break room in a daze.

His slow lumbering gait still managed to scare some folks, though, so that’s a plus.

He opens the door, slowly turns to close it softly, and leans back against it once it is.

“Eddie? You okay?” Comes a voice he’d know anywhere. “Wait, that is you, right? You’re supposed to be Piggy Man tonight?”

Eddie pulls the rubber mask off, making his stomach flip thinking about the last time it was pulled up. You know, ‘cause he’s a sap.

Chrissy takes in his shocked, sweaty face, “Oh my god, you okay? What happened?”

He looks up at his roommate (best friend, sister) in her bloody cheerleader costume, an ironic holdout from their time in high school, and breathes a laugh, “I fell in love.”

“OMG OMG tell me everything right now!!” Chrissy bounces over to him excitedly and pulls him down to the bench of their one (1) break table, a sagging plastic picnic table.

He looks up at her bright happy face and barks out a half hysterical laugh, “I can’t believe you’re this excited about me potentially falling in love with someone I’m literally being paid to scare.”

“Oooh, so they were a runner??”

“Yeah, literally in this case.”

“Start talking, Munson, or I’m going to throw all your guitar picks down the garbage disposal.”

“Okay, okay, Jesus Christ.. Okay, so I did my usual creepy husky voice at him, called him all the usual things,”

“Let me guess, you started with ‘pretty boy’?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause he’s pretty. Duh. Damn was he pretty…”

“Uh huh. And you fell in love with him ‘cause he was pretty?”

“No, no of course not, listen to this:” Eddie sits up straighter in preparation for the story. “I had him backed into a corner, right? The fake gate over in section 2B,”

“Ah yes, of course.”

“Yeah! And when I lunged at him, he caught my arm, and spun me around.”

“Shut. Up.”

“No, never. SO he’s got me backed against the fence, and he–I swear to fucking Jesus H. Christ–lifts my mask up and kisses me.”

Chrissy starts to squeal incoherently. “Eeeeee!!! Shutupshutupshutup!! Holy shit there’s no way this happened!!”

“Look, 100% serious right now; he kissed me stupid, and spun around and booked it again.”

“Pretty Boy distracted you with a kiss to escape!?! I cannot believe this, c’mon..” Crissy grabs ahold of his arm again and pulls him out of the breakroom with her insane unchecked leftover cheer squad strength.

“Whoa, what? Where’re we going?? He’s probably gone by now! I was standing over in 2B like an idiot for a while after he left!!”

“Not that, we gotta go see Argyle.”

“Argyle why—ohhh shit. Oh my god, you think they caught it on camera?” Eddie’s actively following her now.

The two burst into the warehouses’ security office, where they’re met with the backs of two ‘zombie’ guards (and the leftover smell of weed).

“Argyle, Jonathan, you need to look at something for us,”

“Is it the footage of Eddie’s makeout sesh in 2B? ‘Cause we’re waaayy ahead of you pompom.”

“Ah!! Holy shit he was telling the truth?!” Chrissy bodies between the two, sending Argyle rolling away on his chair, and Jonathan staggering back a step.

“Dude, that’s so cool of your boyfriend to come to the haunt, keepin’ us in business.” Argyle directs at Eddie, though still spinning slowly in his chair.

“He’s not my–you thought he was my boyfriend?”

“Yeah man, why else would you look at him like that.” Jonathan points down at the screen.

Chrissy re-winds it again and Eddie watches himself charge forward at Pretty Boy (damn, he’s still pretty though this grainy footage too, how the fuck is that possible??), get spun and–oh shit, they’re right.

“Oh Jesus Christ.” he hangs his head into his hands, falling down into Jonathan’s previously abandoned chair.

“Sooo…he’s not your boyfriend..?”

Chrissy re-winds the footage again. Squeals happily.

“Nope. Just met him tonight.”

“Wow dude, that’s like, love at first sight if I ever saw it.”

She re-winds it again, squeals.

“Yeah I know, it’s embarrassing as shit, alright?” Eddie’s still talking into his palms.

Chrissy snorts at that, “Not for you! Well..kinda..but him too, did you not see that pause?”

“...What pause?”

His question goes unanswered as Jon and Argyle move back in over Chrissy’s shoulders and after a few seconds both “Ohh…” in sync.

“The fuck’re you talking about?”

“Look,” She re-winds the tape once again and points, “Watch after he lifts your mask.”

So he does, and..okay, there was a pause.

“...So?”

“He totally fell in love with you at the same time you did him. Fell with him. With each other?”

“You both fell in love at the same time.” Chrissy says what Jonathan was trying to. “We have GOT to find this guy somehow.”

Chrissy records the footage on the screen with her phone, intending to post it online to find the guy, but Argyle’s positive he’s gonna show back up tonight.

“Give him a chance, pompom, he’s totally in love too, remember?”

“Fine, but if he doesn’t come back today, I’m posting this. Maybe it’ll get us some more business too.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer.

“No.” Yep, there it is.

So, he rolls his eyes, puts his mask back on, and finishes out the night like everything is normal and he didn’t just fall head over fuckin’ heels for a random (hot) stranger earlier.

He’s done for the night before Chrissy since she’s got a lot of that fake blood to try and wash off, so he grabs up his stuff and heads out the front, intending to wave bye to Gareth at the front counter before braving the frigid late fall wind to warm up his car (and move it closer to the entrance so Chrissy doesn't have to walk in the cold).

“See ya Ed,” Gareth calls, and he waves over his shoulder at him as he passes, his attention pulled to a blonde with a choppy bob looking in through the glass of the door, partially silhouetted by the bright ass headlights of a shiny Tesla parked behind her.

He can see the shadow of someone in the driver seat too, as he gets closer and opens the door for her, their face only partially lit up through the tinted glass by the glow of a phone screen.

She starts rambling off immediately after the door is open. “Oh my god, I thought we were too late and you were closed and I completely didn’t even realize I’d left something here when we were here earlier an–”

“Nope, no worries, ma’am, just go talk to Gareth at the front counter and he can tell you if someone turned in…whatever it is you left here.”

She says her thanks and scoots past him, and he spins quickly towards the side lot where his old Neon is parked.

He glances back when he hears the bell chime over the door, a bit delayed (probably the wind holding it open), and sees that the Tesla’s stopped beaming their headlights into the front door, that’s nice of them.

He unlocks his car and gets in, turning the engine over and cranking the heat as high as it’ll go. Once the engine stops it’s signature ‘I’m cold as fuck rn, don’t even try to move me’ rattle, he drives to the front door to wait for Chrissy, pulling in next to the burgundy Tesla.

He scrolls down TikTok for a couple minutes before a banner pops up on his screen

Chris C.: oh my holy fucking shit eddie, get your ass back inside!

Panicking, he races back in through the door, not even bothering to shut off his engine (or close his car door for that matter), thinking shiny Telsa duo is like, robbing the place or something, but as soon as he gets back in, he’s stopped dead in his tracks.

His heart’s still beating a mile a minute, but now with nerves.

Because standing infront of the counter are Chrissy (who’s actually vibrating with excitement), choppy blonde, and…

Oh fuck.

No way.

“H–hi, hi. I’m Steve, you’re Eddie right?”

He can’t help the grin that splits across his face. “Hey, pretty boy.”

thanks to @henderdads for rightfully pointing out that modern day rich boy steve would probably have a tesla <3

tagging everyone i saw in the tags of the last post that seemed interested in more/wanted to see the aftermath lmao: @bangarangdarling, @tartarusknight, @kas-eddie-munson, @wormdebut (AMAZING url btw), @vecnuthy, @perseus-notjackson, @homosexual-having-tea, @matchingbatbites, @scarcrossdlvrs, @anzelsilver, @auroraplume, @kkpwnall, @wildwildsoul, @bennys-burgers, @steveharringtonssluttywaist

#steddie #st #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #st ficlet #steddie ficlet #platonic hellcheer #chrissy cunningham #jonathan byers #argyle #gareth emerson #modern au #noelle writes

2K notes · View notes

fictionismyreality3 · 1 month

Text

How Price Flirts

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it

Notes: I am a pure and holy person (I would wear his bucket hat while we fu-)

the cheekiness of this man is only rivalled by god 😤

he will tease you and he WON’T stop until your a blushing mess

little quips about how you’re wearing your hair differently, how your uniform looks, what you’re reading on your breaks

once he’s okay with the fact that he likes you, he doesn’t give a fuck about anything but making you his

if your younger than him, expect comments about your age

“Come ‘ere, little one.” “I’m literally an adult, John.” “You’re still little to me, sweetheart.”

he won’t admit it, but he has a massive age gap kink 🤤 and it WILL influence how he interacts with you

in his eyes, you’re the most precious thing ever

every little thing you do is just so cute and he would gladly show tell you

if you make a mistake during training, he’ll be on your ass for the rest of the day

not in an annoying way tho, he’ll just endlessly joke about how “you seem distracted, luv’”

if you’re shorter than him he’s gonna use you as an arm rest 🤭

he WILL come to stand beside you only to rest his arm on top of your head and WILL keep a totally straight face the whole time, not missing a beat if he’s talking

but he’s not just a cheeky bastard

he’s insanely protective 😭 like to the point where it’s probably unhealthy

when you and the team go out, he’s always either within 10 feet of you, or sitting with the squad and glaring at anyone who comes near you

the man will use all 6’ feet of himself to stand between you and anyone who he thinks doesn’t deserve to look at you have good intentions

he’s big and he knows it

if you’re sitting across from him and he catches your gaze straying he will spread his legs to make you stare at his cock slip up

once he’s attached to you he’s not letting go easily

when you’re around other people who aren’t in the 141, he’ll take off his bucket hat and put on you 🥺 and won’t let you take it off

you wouldn’t realize but everyone else with half a brain knows it’s his subtle way of marking his territory

#headcanon #john price x f!reader #john price x y/n #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x female reader #captain price x female reader #captain price x y/n #captain price x you #captain price x reader

510 notes · View notes

lethalchiralium · 1 year

Note

If ur taking requests can we get something like Ghost still doesnt trust fxreader at all even when they are together for like 1/2 years and she gets all sad and starts distancing herself tyxxxx

No More | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: guys. guys i mean it keep the requests coming i love them. also : captain reader? because girlboss??? it’s kinda shitty but i love messy. gives me better control of future chapters :)

CALLSIGN: Mercy

warnings: angst, cussing, realizations and sort of heartbreak.

summary: You’ve been with Ghost for a year and a half - you allowed him into things you kept safe guarded, and realized that he has never done the same for you.

REMINDER: This is a side-blog, not my main! If you have any questions, feel free to message this blog or reblog! Reblogs are always appreciated - as well as any comments, they keep me motivated to write stuff like this!

SERIES MASTERLIST

You thought he would grow out of it. He’s an adult; given, he’s a very fucked up soldier, but an adult that has done adult things. He’s a few years shy of being in his thirties, and he doesn’t even understand the basics of having a girlfriend. He doesn’t understand a lot of things, and even though you’ve explained to him more times than you can remember, he still didn’t understand you after a year and a half of being together. Sure, you are on the same squad, you leave separately on break but always end up in the same apartment. The apartment that had framed pictures of you, your family, your dog - yet it always feels like he doesn’t give you anything.

It’s been a year and a half and the only personal thing you got out of him was a story about his brother when they were younger. You had told him countless stories of you and your childhood best friend, your single dad who fostered and adopted you. You even told him about your childhood dog who got hit by a car when he was young and still lived to be 15, about the very short memories you had of your godfather before he passed. You had told him everything, you had put your full trust into him and he hadn’t even given thought into putting an ounce of trust into you.

You couldn’t help it when you started to close yourself off - a trauma response from those years in the orphanage, then the system. You took less and less patients, eventually getting confronted by your Lieutenant, “What is going on with you, Captain?” You had given them a half-assed answer, “Got a lot of papers to go through from Price. It won’t be a long time.” And you kept yourself locked in your office, looking over case files and possible missions you could go on to escape this. Escape the feeling that has been gnawing at your soul since the last time you left your apartment with him three months ago. The feeling of distrust, of emotional abandonment.

You didn’t stop your tears when they came every night after Ghost had visited, but you never cried in front of him. You figured that would give him more ammunition to keep you at arm’s length.

Your hand ran across the hefty manila folder, the other held onto your vest collar. You opened the folder.

It was a stupid decision, you knew that. He would never let you get out of his sight, let you be anywhere without his knowledge and approval. But you needed something different - you needed somewhere where you felt like you could breathe, with people you trust and have put trust into you.

Your dog, Cerberus, whined from your cot across the room. You’d been sleeping more in your office than your own room, you figured it was because you were mentally preparing to be out on the friend with your old squad, and definitely not because you couldn’t stand to be in the same room as Ghost. He never let you move away from him in missions, never let you out of his sight when on them - it was suffocating, feeling like you were inadequate in a field you spent most of your life in because of the man you loved with everything you had. You gave him your all, your everything - he definitely made you feel that it would never be enough, without him even speaking a word.

Your eyes read over the mission again. Reconnaissance on a couple of enemy bases, a patrol of safe houses in the area to make sure they were still secure. That and to infiltrate a top secret base deep in the mountains to retrieve information on a possible illegal uranium enrichment plant being constructed. Your eyes darted back across the room to Cerberus, you whistled lowly. The German Shepherd leapt off your cot, scrambling to sit in between you and your desk, he plopped his heavy head on your lap. You smiled at him, scratching behind his ears. “Good boy, Cerby.”

Your team consisted of your good friends, Logan and Hesh Walker, as well as Keegan Russ. You remembered how threatened Ghost was with how close of friends you were with them, you had chose to follow him to 141 instead of stay in the comfort of the Ghost Crew. A choice you had regretted earlier, but not now. You felt a lot better equipped with such an intense task force, you have more medics than before and an actual base to stay in - that and Price seemed a lot more relaxed now that Hassan and Shepherd were no longer a problem.

Cerberus’s ears perked up and he darted out from under your desk as you heard thunderous footsteps coming towards your office.

“Lay down.” You ordered your dog, he looked back at you before he skittered back onto your bed. You stood, your seat wheeled backwards half a foot. It was only five more seconds before your office door slammed against the wall, Ghost stormed in and shoved it back into the frame with his foot. He held up a folder just likes yours before he growled loudly, “What the fuck is this?”

You closed your own folder, moving your hand from your vest collar and splaying your fingers on the cardstock. Your eyes stayed down on the folder stamped, “Classified.”

“You’re going on a mission with the Ghosts?”

Your eyes looked over some stamped patient files, taking them in your hand and opening a few to se did you had signed them.

“Price told me five minutes ago. You’ve known for how long?”

You closed the files and whistled lowly again, the clicking of claws against the concrete was heard as the massive search and rescue dog curled around the back of your legs. You didn’t even have to look to know that he had his hackles raised - when you were on guard, so was he.

Ghost marched forwards and slammed his folder down on your desk, his fist clenched as he growled, “Answer me.”

“A month.” You muttered, eyes staring at the folders in your hands before turning away. You’ve cried over him the night previous and the seven before that, must you face him?

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” His voice was gruff, appalled. “That’s reckless. And you told Price not to tell me? Really?”

“It was need to know.” You answered, placing the files back on your desk before you stepped around your dog to the head of your cot where your duffle sat open. He followed, keeping a distance of six feet from you because of Cerberus curling around your legs and staring at him. Your hands grew shaky as you began to double check everything in your bag.

“I tell you whenever I leave for any mission, any fuckin’ errand, and you don’t dare tell me about one of the most important ops we’ve had in months? Why are you going?”

“They need a medic, they requested me.”

He scoffed. “We need our medic.”

You slowed down, hand brushing over your beige t-shirts as you spoke, “You have my lieutenant, Gomez.”

“I want you here.” His voice softened a little, you shoved the clothes down farther in the bag, pulling out your spare medkit and opening it, eyes darting over its contents. “I only trust you to patch me up.”

You slammed your spare med-pack closed and back into your duffle. You quickly zipped it, sharply saying, “That’s funny, ‘cause you seem not to trust me any other time.” You turned to look at him, eyes brimmed with tears.

His eyes widened. “What?”

“You don’t trust me, Simon. You never let me take my lead when we’re on missions, let me be near you, let me talk with other people.” Your arms crossed over your chest, tears slicing hot on your skin. “You don’t trust me. do you even want to be in this relationship?” Your hand went up and quickly wiped away your tears. “Because it certainly feels like you don’t.”

He stood there, stunned - his hands at his side, he had no idea what to do with them. “Of course I do.” He took a step forward, cautiously placing his right hand out. “Of course I trust you.”

You backed away then, your calves bumped into Cerberus, your hand reached down to touch his head - an attempt to calm yourself. “Then why can’t you put a little faith in me? A little faith that you are the one I go to sleep thinking about? That you are the one I worry about when I’m out on the field, instead of my own safety? That I wouldn’t ever do this to you?” Tears fall rapidly, your heart beat roughly in your chest - anxiety was gripping your diaphragm. “I trust you with my life, Simon. I have since we got together. It’s been almost a year and a half and you still don’t even trust me to have your back.”

He just stands there, arms at his side - his eyes stared at you, dark and full of pain. “I do. I do trust you, Y/N.”

You threw your duffle on your back and walked towards him - shoving a finger into his chest, looking up at him. “You have this whole mission to think about this, about us. Because I can’t be trusting you blindly when you don’t even trust me to breathe.”

You moved around him, whistling for Cerberus. The dog swiftly followed you out of the office, and you slammed the door behind you. You swiftly walked down the corridor, and as soon as you turned the corner, your back hit the wall. Your hand flew up to your mouth, pressing into it to muffle the loud sobs that fell from your throat. Cerberus pawed at your leg before pressing his head to it.

____________________

part 2 here!

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley #simon riley call of duty #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley request #lethal chiralium #lethalchiralium

4K notes · View notes

angelltheninth · 9 months

Text

Best Friend Simon Makes Out with You During a Movie

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, making out, friends to lovers, size difference, confession, shy!Simon, best friend!Simon

A/N: Who doesn't Netflix and chill with their best crush friend?

Movie nights are frequent for you and Simon, its so hard to find time to spend together because his missions are getting more and more frequent

For such a big and tough guy he cries very easily during romance and Pixar movies

You'd never make fun of him for it of course, or tell on him to his squad, you think its very sweet

Simon runs very hot so when you're cuddling there's no need for a blanket most of the time

"Think these two are gonna confess any time soon? It's been over half the movie and all they've done is sigh heavily and pine for one another." Thanks to his commentary its never boring watching any movie

You feel his arm sneaking to your hip, pulling you a bit closer little by little until your head is against his chest

These cuddle sessions are quite frequent, "I think your taste in movies is getting worse. We already know what's gonna happen. Is there any else we can watch? Or do?" As he asks that his eyes flicker down to your lips, your cheeks burning, legs rubbing together, "You cold? Come here, I'll warm you up."

Simon lifts you up by your hips, your legs now at his sides as he's taking wrapping you up in a hug, "Hey, since the movie sucks, can I try something? Tell me if you don't want it."

Carefully and slowly he presses his lips to yours, waiting, not applying any extra pressure and stays like that for what feels like a very long time

Well you didn't pull away so that's a very good sign for him

Another kiss, a longer one, he waits again, for you deepen it, for you to invite him in, "Shit. You have no idea how long I-" He stops his own confession with the next kiss, and the next, and the next

Suddenly it clicked, why he always wanted to make sure you knew that he wasn't seeing anyone, that he never slept with anyone while on duty

When your hands start to go under his hoodie he breaks the kiss, "Wait. No, no I... can't do this if you think this is just a one night stand. I like you, I have for a long time. Yeah. Why do you think I always pick romance movies? I need to go back on duty tomorrow but when I get back do you want to go out? Not just as friends this time."

In the mean time neither of you cared to pay attention to the movie for the rest of the night, occupied by each others lips instead

2K notes · View notes

charliemwrites · 4 months

Text

Part 6 of SpecGru (former 141) reader; Simon’s perspective again.

Content: brief implication/mention of reader having idle suicidal ideation. In the way of “I don’t care if something happens to me” kind of way. Happens during a phone call between Price and reader’s new captain.

Please be careful and safe. If someone needs this part summarized, let me know. I love you all very much <3

Here’s the truth of it: Simon never meant for you to leave.

You were too close, that was true. He did everything short of actually hurting you to drive you away. Treated you like a plaything, took your kindness and patience and feelings for him for granted. Left you cold and alone in a hospital bed — unable to see you pale and half-dead all because you were so goddamn headstrong…

That had put it all in vicious perspective. That he couldn’t keep you safe; knowing him, following him, would surely end with you on a metal table rather than a clean hospital bed.

In hindsight, he knows it was as much for his own sake as yours, trying to force that emotional distance between you two. But he just… he can’t do it. Not again. Not you. You’d break him.

But he never meant for you to leave. Not really.

Maybe take an extended solo mission. Or just break off the romance of it all. Maybe you’d stay away for a while, give him time to sort out his feelings and shove the useless ones back into the pit they belong in.

He didn’t expect you to be gone as soon as you could stand.

“You said yourself, Simon, she’s too young and reckless. The 141 can’t afford to babysit her,” Price explained.

“She nearly got you killed, LT,” Soap pointed out. That was before he found out that you were gone for good, not just on disciplinary leave.

And when he did…

“No. No, she dinnae…” he wiped a hand down his face, eyes going a bit glassy. “Why? Why would she… didn’t we mean anythin’ to her? I know we were all a bit on the rocks but ‘s just cos she gave us a scare…”

Gaz took it the hardest, showing up most morning with red-rimmed, puffy eyes. He tried texting you a hundred times; they never went through.

He and Soap begged Price to reconsider, saying that he had no right to kick you out without consulting the rest of the squad.

“I just told her that she should consider transfer,” Price corrected, steely.

“Same fuckin’ thing, ain’t it?” Soap raged. “What else ‘s she gonna do when it’s her captain sayin’ it?”

And Price had finally crumbled, his stubbornness giving way to a clearer head and regret in the aftermath. Simon knew how he felt; had been haunted with the same gut-wrenching feeling for two weeks by that point.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have…” he wiped a hand down his face. “I’ll call Laswell, see if she can put us through.”

As it turned out, your new team had deployed you almost immediately. You were gone, relying on teammates you barely knew, and there was no guarantee when (or even if) you’d be reachable again.

When Laswell put Price through to your new captain instead, he scoffed down the line.

“That how the great John Price sends off his own?” He gruffed.

“I take care of my own,” Price replied, narrow-eyed.

“That’s explains it then, doesn’t it?” A shifting on the other end. “Well, she’s one of mine now, at least; better off that way I think.”

He was on speaker phone with the SpecGru captain. Shouldn’t have been, but it wasn’t a confidential call. So the rest of the 141 was there, vibrating with the effort to stay quiet.

Simon balled his hands into fists, arms crossed. He didn’t trust anyone with one of theirs. No, you belonged right there with the rest of the 141. They could keep you safe, keep you alive.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Price growled.

“Let me just ask you this, Price. And only because I need to know how to take care of her.” A pause, shuffling of papers. Something heavy and almost… hesitant in the silence before- “Did she always have this DNR order?”

Price’s office turned to ice. Simon’s entire shuddered, cored out. The arm of the chair Soap was occupying cracked. Gaz’s hand was covering his mouth, blood draining from his face.

“No,” Price answered, voice little more than rust.

A grunt on the other end.

“Thanks for the insight,” your new captain replied, sounding nonplussed. “At least you were good for something.”

The line droned, dead.

—

You’re standing with the rest of SpecGru, beaming like each and every one of them hung a star just for you. They orbit like you’re the sun, even Nikto, holding you in his arms, letting you lean back against him.

(You used to look at Simon like that. Used to let him hug you like that on the occasion he was weak and gave into the temptation to hold you.)

Every time he looks at you, it’s like a stranger with your face all over again.

You hold your shoulders differently. Tilt your head different. Have a certain control over your facial features better than any mask Simon’s donned.

Today you’re dressed down from your tac uniform. Specifically, your long-sleeve thermal has been replaced by a sleeveless gym shirt. It reveals that tattoo he caught only a glimpse of before — a big, intricate thing from your shoulder down your wrist.

(He and Johnny were going to go with you for your first tattoo. You asked them for all sort of recommendations. Enjoyed tracing Simon’s sleeve when he let you.)

There are more scars too. Burns, bullet grazes, jagged knife marks and patches from bad scrapes.

Nova is finishing up the wrapping on your hand, the other already done. You’re listening to something Russ is spouting off about, whatever it is making you laugh loud enough to be heard where Simon is lurking.

“C’mon,” Johnny says, bumping shoulders with Simon. “Know we fucked up yesterday, but we can try again. Maybe letting her beat the shite out of us will help clear the air, aye?”

Simon forces himself to look away. He already knows you won’t be glancing over.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Maybe.”

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #sad fic #angst #former 141 reader #specgru reader #simon ghost riley

1K notes · View notes

wileys-russo · 4 months

Note

Jessie Fleming

Reader is a physiotherapist at Chelsea, and always spends time in the physio office. :)

regular visitor II j.fleming

getting to work that day you hustled to grab your bag out of the car and hurry inside, well aware that due to some shitty london morning traffic you were running twenty minutes late.

it wasn't a game day thankfully but you knew this would set you back as you had appointments lined up all morning back to back, emma wanting all of the girls to have a quick check up and check in since most of them had only just returned from international break.

"morning!" you sang out with a rushed smile, swiping your card at reception and almost sprinting off toward the physio's office, arriving with a sigh of relief seeing there wasn't a line of disgruntled players yet.

"emma called a squad meeting so everythings been pushed back, you're fine. breathe!" linda the other physio on today assured as you collapsed at your desk with a groan, limbs on fire from running. "thank you!" you gestured up to the sky making the woman laugh and sit down across from you, running you through the schedule for the day.

"so peter and will are in for the afternoon too?" you clarified, the check ups having been moved to after lunch as linda nodded. "makes it smoother to go through the whole team without having to rush anything." the woman explained as you nodded in agreement.

a knock at the door gained your attention as you looked up to see a familiar face hovering in the doorway. "morning jess!" linda greeted them, taking her copy of the schedule and gently sliding past her, off for a meeting with some of the training staff.

"ahh first day back from break and you're the first face i see fleming, how unusual." you teased as the canadian gave you a sheepish grin. "you know maybe i should just get you your own personal bench at this point." you continued with a wink as jessie blushed.

"are you here for help or for a chat?" you asked, half serious and half joking, the midfielder rolling her eyes playfully. "strictly a professional visit, but we always chat anyway." jessie pointed out which you couldn't deny, but the footballer also had no leg to stand on as she did often find herself hanging about in your office in little bubbles of free time.

"tape time?" you laughed knowingly, a flurry of nods greeting you as you gestured for her to take a seat, the girl frequently in the same position. "so how was being back home?" you questioned with a smile, grabbing out what you needed as jessie hauled herself up onto the bench.

"cold. you think this is bad? canada is fucking freezing man! the icicles have icicles." the canadian shook her head making you laugh, missing the way she lit up at the sound. "so whats troubling you today then?" you asked moving to stand over her as a panicked look crossed her face.

"what? what do you mean?" jessie stammered out nervously. "with the tape. what do you need taped?" you chuckled, jessie exhaling with a nervous chuckle. "oh! right. left knee, took a wild slide tackle and its felt a little tight since." jessie shrugged.

"mm yeah its feeling okay, there is a little tension but have you done much in the way of cardio since you;ve been back?" you asked, massaging her knee and thigh between your hands as jessie opened and closed her mouth.

"jess?" you asked with a concerned frown when she didn't answer, the midfielder shaking her head for a moment. "oh! not really. i only landed two days ago and i've been trying to fix my sleep schedule." the girl admitted with a small smile.

"mm the joys of jetlag! did you see your family when you were home?" you started to tape up her knee, jessie recounting a few stories, brightening up anytime she managed to make you laugh.

"-so you made her eat snow? harsh!" you shook your head with a smile. "not eat it! the snowball just happened to accidentally, maybe a little on purpose, hit her in the mouth." jessie held her hands up in defence as you playfully rolled your eyes.

"poor cloe. never knew you were such a sore loser fleming." you teased, tapping her thigh to let her know you were done, taking a step back as jessie frowned already missing the contact of your hands against her skin.

"i am not!" jessie huffed, crossing her arms. "sure." you drawled sarcastically with a smile. "now go! if you're late for strength training emma will have my head." you chuckled as she hopped down and you sat back at your desk.

"hey would you maybe want to-" you looked up with a quirked eyebrow and the eye contact seemed to suck the question from her as the canadian shook her head, waving it off and hurrying out of the room.

you'd just finished taping up a few more of the girls later in the day when you saw the familiar face pop back in. "again! what can i do for you jessica?" you laughed, turning around and missing the way both guro and niamh shot her a knowing look, shoving the canadian as they left the room.

"my calves are really locked up." jessie pulled herself to sit up on the bench again as you hummed, grabbing out a bottle of massage oil and gesturing for her to lay down.

the girl breathed a sigh of relief as you began to massage out the knots and tension in her lower legs, and though that wasn't the reason she'd really come here it was a bonus.

"so how was your break?" jessie asked, propping herself up on one arm to look at you. "well i'm not a footballer so i didn't have one!" you reminded with a laugh, the midfielders face flushing bright red in embarrassment.

"oh shit i'm sorry i didn't-" you waved off her apology as you moved onto her other leg. "it was much more quiet around here with only a few of the girls needing treatment. caught up on all my paperwork!" you smiled with a wink, jessies head thumping back down onto the bench as she looked to the roof.

"alright! all done." you squeezed her ankle and moved to wash your hands. "oh wait! my uh, my shoulder is a little tight. we were doing...throw ins!" jessie sat up as you narrowed your eyes.

"mm well we can't have that." you gestured for her to turn around as you gave her shoulder a squeeze. "higher or lower?" you asked, the canadian guiding you to where her 'pain' was.

"okay, shirt off." you nodded as jessie quickly stripped off her training top leaving her in only a sports bra, and you caught the red which coated her cheeks before her head faced the wall.

"so what are you doing after work?" jessie asked, wincing at the awkwardness in her tone. "going home." you answered with a smile, working through the small knot in her shoulder. "oh! cool, cool." jessie nodded, pulling a face which she was grateful you couldn't see.

"you know, if you have something to ask me, you can just ask." you encouraged, unsure if you were misreading the situation but having a feeling she was dancing around her true intentions. "no no i don't want to bother you." she shook her head, knee bouncing nervously.

"okay. because you know if you wanted to ask me out you can just do it. instead of making up all of these injuries and excuses to come and hang out with me in here during work hours." you spoke casually but the words caused jessie to choke on air as she spun around and pulled her shirt back on.

you watched with amusement as the canadian opened and closed her mouth clearly in shock. "you're cute jess, but we gotta work on your confidence!" you patted her leg with a smile, stepping back a little.

"i'm free tonight, if you were wondering." you sat down at your desk and pulled out millies file, seeing her for a one on one next. "okay! would you like to get dinner?" jessie hopped down and played nervously with her hands.

"i'd love to." you answered softly, watching as her face lit up. "okay. awesome! great." jessie nodded happily, making a beeline for the door as you cleared your throat. "would you like my number so we can make a plan for dinner?" you asked, her face paling as she nodded.

you held your hand out for her phone, saving your number in it and handing it back to her. "better text me fleming." you warned playfully as she backed out of the room. "i will! promise." you melted at the grin on her face as she left, hearing her footsteps thud away.

"oh hey! you look beautiful today by the way." your head lifted up as hers popped back in, sending you a charming smile before running off again.

"see you're already getting better with the confidence jess, keep it up!"

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #woso blurbs #woso community #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming

558 notes · View notes

setsugekka · 11 months

Text

❥summer hair = forever young (m)

↳ Only three weeks after being broken up with by your long time partner, you’re dragged along for your friends summer vacation plans despite your best attempts at staying home to do little more than feel sorry for yourself.

Day one? Dinner and a movie.

Day two? The bar down the street that smells like old socks.

Day three? Well, that’s the waterpark, and the cute, blonde lifeguard that seems to make the lazy river his mainstay is a bit of a sight for sore eyes.

lee jeno x fem!reader — summer fling, strangers to lovers, fluff, light angst, porn with plot, explicit sexual content. [18,1k wc] cws: alcohol consumption, penetrative sex, oral sex (f), praise, dirty talk, body cum-shot, Lee Jeno has a Big Dick.

J♡ [22:40]: i just think with summer coming up it's probably for the best, we had fun but we both knew it wasn't a forever thing anyway

A year and a half. Just like that.

Even now, two days after the break up text from your boyfriend — the boyfriend that you were very much in love with and very much thought it to be at the very least a potential forever thing with — you find yourself coming back to it. Rereading it. Wondering what it was that brought the two of you to the here and now of it all.

Though, the pictures of him at a party that had been posted the following day sort of gave it away, you suppose.

Still, there had been talk of future plans, futures together and what that looked like. Maybe not quite a family and the white picket fence just yet — but there had been discussions over romantic dinners and between the sheets after some particularly enjoyable bedroom romps. At least, you had thought as much.

In hindsight, a break up always causes you to put every interaction leading up to it under a microscope. What could you have done differently, better, how could you have avoided the reality that you now find yourself in.

You choose not to reread over the texts you've sent him since, mostly out of humiliation of the fact. Through the crying and the begging and the reducing yourself down to someone that you don't even recognize even in the worst of times, the only thing that makes it that much worse is the lack of any such acknowledgement from a man who had once promised you so much of himself. Not granted even so much as a conversation — hell, he couldn't even be bothered to meet you in person to do it properly — the most likely case? Jaehyun met some girl at some party that in the moment he felt was worth ending the relationship for.

And in times like this, you realize it's difficult to think that you ever really know someone at all.

In the following weeks, your friends are kind, but even you can tell that they begin to get fed up with your insistence on being miserable over a guy that couldn't grace you with even an ounce of the same thoughtfulness.

Constantly turning down plans in favor of staying home on the couch with a bag of snacks and some shitty romance flick, the squad of pals that you've collected over the years only becomes more and more pushy of your getting up and out there once again — in the nicest way, of course. Comments about how he wasn't even that handsome (a lie) and wouldn't end up being all that successful anyway (also a lie) sneak themselves into conversations at any brief moment that any of them can sneak them in, as if attempting to convince you of the fact; rather, the reminder of him only serves as just that. You don't need it, because you're still at a point of pain in your chest where Jaehyun is always there. Knocking, jabbing, not allowing himself to fall off from your mind even for a second.

They mean well, but these things take time. You're thankful that with summer vacation coming up and the girls having plans to go out of town for a few weeks that you'll be granted a small amount of reprieve from the barrage of commentary, at the very least.

That is, of course, until the day comes.

"Rise and shine, darling! We're going on a mission!"

Waking to the shrill voice of one of the girls as she rips the covers off of your body — simultaneously exposing your freshly opened eyes to the offending illumination of the sunlight outside as another girl pulls open the curtains of a window just across the room — you briefly attempt to reach for the duvet before instead accepting defeat and instead slumping back into the cushion of the mattress, anticipating whatever nonsense these women have in store for you this time.

"What kind of mission?" You ask with a dry and throaty groan.

With blankets bunched in her arms, a girl with long, silver hair brings herself just next to your head while you remain lied and despondent in bed. "Today we leave for summer vacation."

One eye cracked open at the words from Winter's mouth, you groan again before answering her. "Yes, you all leave for summer vacation. I told you I wasn't going."

"Why?" Another girl chimes in from the doorway. A beautiful woman with long, silky black hair. "So you can stay here all month long and continue feeling bad for yourself? That guy was a fuckin' loser anyway."

"Karina."

"What?" She adds in retaliation. "He was."

Still standing by the window and with a white curtain in hand, Giselle rolls her eyes at her friends bluntness. Really, you know them all to believe it to be the case, but Karina is the only one willing to go to such feats to speak on it.

"What she means is that it would probably do you some good to get out and come away with us," Giselle amends, garnering a rather unbothered shrug from Karina along the way. "It's only two weeks, it certainly couldn't hurt."

Sighing at the words, you remain laid out in the comfort of your bed. Staring at the ceiling, you realize that there is still a small part of you that can't help but consider the possibility of Jaehyun calling you to tell you of the mistake that he has made, that the two of you should meet up and rekindle things, and the thought of being far away and well out of reach should that time come to pass causes an uncomfortable twisting in your gut that you're not all that ready to disclose to your friends in the room.

Partially because you know it to be so far from the realm of possibility, and partially because it's not a conversation that you're all that interested in rehashing with them now, either.

Regardless, you know there to be truth in their words. Staying home and feeling bad about where your love life has ended up thus far is not going to serve you: not in the near or the far future. Knowing as much, it then begs the question...

Is it worth throwing away an entire summer vacation for?

Inhaling slowly, your lips part to speak, but as your eyes fall upon Winter once more, you watch as her face begins to twist into that of glee before the words even begin to leave your mouth.

"Yes!" She exclaims with a jump before turning and ushering the other girls to begin packing belongings for your last minute trip.

It's only a few hours over to the next town by the beach, anyway, so if they forget anything of importance you'll easily be able to find something to make up for it upon arrival. You leave them to it over the calamity of delighted squeals as the women shove your belongings into a bag, and as you stare up at the ceiling over your head for one last time before your departure, you can't help but wonder: what are you getting yourself into this summer?

Four hours and twenty minutes in the backseat of Ningning's luxury SUV.

It's not the worst way to get somewhere, but the additional hour of travel time most certainly could have been shaved off if any of the people in the car capable enough of navigating a GPS application.

Instead, the time there offers you far too much ability to live with your own thoughts about whether or not you're in the right headspace to truly be making this trip. Granted, it's a little bit too late for that now on account of not being able to back out should you even want to — rather, you can't help but wonder if you're already regretful of having allowed yourself to be dragged along for such a thing.

Every ten minutes or so you check your phone for a message, not that you're keeping track or anything.

The concern is alleviated for a time upon finally reaching the summer beach house, at least. From the outside it's nothing fancy; perhaps appearing as nothing more than a typical, large family home at a glance — but putting together the knowledge of it being just walking distance from the sandy coast out back and the large count of at least six bedrooms inside — you know it to be far beyond just the way that it may present. Expected, of Ningning and her affluent family, and at the very least you're thankful in knowing that you'll have a bedroom for yourself that most likely has a lock on the door should you wish to take some time away from the girls at hand.

You feel somewhat guilty in thinking that, though: friends that you've known since the beginnings of high school and now well into the tail end of higher educational years, people who have been with you through thick and thin and through all of your poor decisions, messy break ups, and rash meltdowns. For whatever reason, this one feels different. The desire to be away and alone with nothing more than your feelings of sorrow, and sometimes you find yourself even lamenting the fact that you have to acknowledge anyone or anything outside of that.

It's good to feel your feelings, this much you know. It's probably better to not allow them to consume you, however uncomfortable it is, though.

Blonde hair swishing through the air as she twirls with keys jingling in hand, Ningning turns with a wide smile to the rest of you as she pushes the front door open and subsequently removes herself from the doorway to allow you all to go before her. "Home sweet home!"

Upon entering the premises, you can't help but think that 'sweet' may be an understatement: two stories and ceilings higher than you can really even fathom with more window paning serving as a perimeter than proper walling — it's most definitely a luxury home, and one that you couldn't really fathom ever owning for yourself, or even really being able to afford renting for a getaway such as this without the additional help of a well-off pal.

It's beautiful, and it makes you realize just how lucky you are to have friends willing to drag you out of your misery to force you to come along and experience it with them.

"Bedrooms are upstairs except for the largest one, which I'll be staying in on account of familial ties," the girl proudly explains as you all enter and set your bags down in the living room area. "Kitchen is to the left, as is another, smaller living area, pool, deck, and then obviously you guys can figure out how to get to the beach."

It goes without saying, because even though the sun is out upon your arrival, you can't imagine not being able to see the crashing of waves even in the nighttime from where you stand now. Looking out towards the coast, it makes your heart swell with promise and thankfulness once over.

You gotta give it to them, they might have been right.

Still, you've checked your phone twice since you've arrived.

"Should we freshen up then have dinner?" Karina asks suddenly and with evident excitement in her voice. You all nod.

"Dinner and a movie in on the first night," Winter adds, grabbing her bags once again. "But after that I expect nothing but trouble until we have to go back home."

Somehow, you don't doubt that to be the outcome, either.

Day two is simple, and much to Winter's displeasure. You, however, are a bit thankful for it on account of your inability to truly settle in. It helps after having gone to the bar just down the way and having a few drinks — that always does the trick in getting you to dreamland, but the aid of alcoholic beverages isn't one that you wish to rely on as a crutch for sleeping during your two week stay and without another plan of action, you think it best to take it easy and lie a little low for what may be the remainder of the trip for you.

When day three rolls around and Karina excitedly throws out the option of the enormous, landmark of a waterpark that the city is known for — everyone is beyond elated at the suggestion, even you.

Some sun and a little outdoors could probably do you good, and on top of that, you'll be far too exhausted from a day out not to get a good nights rest by the time your body meets the comfort of your bed.

With swimsuits on and towels in hand as the five of you enter the gates of the park, you realize that you had overlooked how busy it would be — and by quite a wide margin.

Crowds not really your thing and especially not during some of the hottest days of summer, you bite back any possible complaints you could have and instead focus on the positives: you and your friends are looking fine as hell, there's a comfortable breeze that you couldn't be happier to feel right about now, and your phone is tucked away inside of a locker — far from your sight until the day is over.

You're hopeful for any thoughts of him being just as tucked away as a result, too.

In the meantime and barely out of sight long enough for you to even notice, Giselle pops back up to your side with a bright blue slushie in one hand. "What should we do first?"

"Where did you even get that?" You can't help but question.

Turning and pointing, Giselle brings your line of vision over to a shirtless man standing at a small kiosk only a few feet away. "Hot guy selling them."

"We should definitely see if there's any more of those around here," Karina adds upon looking, and as a result, you cock your head somewhat confused. "Slushies?"

"Hot guys," she confirms sternly.

The thing about post-break up heartbreak is that often times the blinders to other people some times turn themselves on without your knowing it.

That is to say that even though you're not actively thinking about Jaehyun, and there are extremely attractive men here, you can't say that you're all that interested in the fact.

Standing back, you find joy at least in watching your friends enjoy themselves as they flirt with strange guys and playfully pat their arms and shoulders — laughing at jokes that aren't funny but for this, we can pretend — you know it all too well, and you suppose that from an outsiders point of view, it certainly is amusing, and given how long the line is up to this slide, you're thankful for the entertainment.

Nearing thirty minutes in line for one attraction in the hot, beating down summer sun is far from your idea of a good time, but you can see the end soon approaching, and while you cannot imagine that the ride down be worthy of this sort of gathering of people, the faster you can get up there, on the ride, and down, the better.

With only a small family of four ahead of your group now, you and the girls stand just near the very top of the water slide. Sweat pooling in all sorts of places that you'd really rather it not on account of the heat, you find yourself nearing the end of your willingness to enjoy this place, and more than that, you're happy that this is one of those slides that holds numerous people at once so that no one has to wait to get down from what you might consider now to be the highest mountain in the pits of Hell.

The family goes along their way, and with Karina ahead of you and the other behind you, the girl leans back to whisper towards you through the loud shouts of happy children surrounding you.

"Oh, girl—"

Granted, you don't know what this means as you continue with the last couple of steps to the top. Not until you get up there and your eyes land on precisely what it is that you know garnered that type of reaction from her.

Standing just beside the opening of the slide and preparing an inflatable tube for your party of pals, he doesn't take notice of you and yours before your lot does of him, and for that you're somewhat thankful considering the way that your eyes rake over the toned, tanned, display of arms and a bleached-blonde undercut of hair with the sides and back all too freshly shaven, at that.

With a loose tank top covering his torso, you can't help but feel a bit disappointed in the fact. A modest man working at the waterpark, you think, and it brings a bit of a grin to your lips despite the joke only being known to you.

In that moment and with it now being your turn to ride, he looks up and makes eye contact with you, in particular — a wide smile of teeth that's matched by an equally pleasant eye smile, as well — punctuated by a small freckle just at the lower corner of his right eye.

"First time riding?"

"What?"

You realize as soon as the affronted response leaves your lips that it is no ones fault but your own that you've responded to such a normal question in this way. Perhaps entirely on account of your eye-fucking the cute lifeguard before he even manages to get a word in edgewise, you watch him cock his head to the side inquisitively at your answer before snorting out a bit of a chuckle through his nose and continuing on as if you're not a complete fucking freak in public.

"Is it your first time? On this ride?"

"Oh," you answer back as normally as you can possibly muster up. "Uh, yeah, first time."

"Cool," he says, holding the raft still while your friends climb on and get into position beside you. "Hold onto the railing, don't let go, don't stick your hands out and try to touch anything along the way."

With a knowing grin, Karina leans forward to grab his attention as he pulls you and your girls towards the opening of the slide. "What happens if I lose a finger? Are you going to come down there and rescue me?"

It's flirtatious, although you can't help but think the logistics of it could potentially use some work.

But with little more than a shake of his head and a smile, the cute blonde answers the inquiry in the best way you think him to know how.

"I work at a waterpark, don't think you want me sewing anything on you back together. Have fun!"

And with that, the hot lifeguard disappears into the dark, black abyss of the waterslide.

When the day comes to a close and simultaneously, the park itself, with gentle sunburns gracing you and your friends skin and with slushies in hand, the five of you finally retrieve your belongings from the lockers near the entrance.

You check the screen of your phone to find little more than a text from your mother, asking how you're doing and if you're having a good time.

Looking forward to the day in which not finding a message from your ex won't make your throat feel like swallowed needles, as well.

"I see everyone made it out with all of their appendages."

The voice and joke are familiar in a sort of way that you can't seem to place just yet, but upon raising your sights from the depressing display at hand and towards the person in which the words have come from, it all comes rushing back to you at lightning speed. Eyes wide and taken quite aways aback, you just about drop your phone and as a result of scrambling to not let it meet the wet concrete of the floor below, nearly make a mess of the icy, blue beverage in hand, as well.

Thankfully, neither disastrous outcome make themselves to be — but still, your inability to be even a little bit normal in front of a man you've known for all of two minutes is getting a little out of hand, at this point.

Still in the same white, cut up t-shirt from back at the slides, the two of you make eye contact for a moment before you realize that you should probably actually say something to him in response.

"Yeah, well," you start with a nod back behind him and towards where Karina stands. "She was the one with intent to remove fingers, not me."

Pausing to glance back over his shoulder and acknowledge the other woman, he gives her a nod before turning his attention back and towards you.

"Good, because I really mean it when I say I can't sew for shit."

You can't help but chuckle at the words. "Would be quite a repertoire of skills under your belt if that were to be the case."

"Indeed. You live around here or on vacation?"

Sly, you think to yourself. Granted, you don't hate the attention especially since he seems keen on directing it to you, in particular. It does beg the question, however, of how much of a point is there to any of this, really? A summer fling can be fun, sure, although not exactly your usual speed of doing things — and especially not off of the back of some of the worst heartbreak you've ever experienced — you look the man in front of you over just one more time before parting dry, chapped lips to respond to him in some form or another.

"Vacation," you grant him, albeit slowly, as if anticipating something suspicious in his questioning. "Why?"

It's sort of a stupid question, you know.

Perching a well-defined arm up against the metal locker next to the both of you, he leans into it and maintains eye contact with you before answering as much. "We should do something while you're in town."

Reeling at how forward he is, your answer comes out a bit more stuttered than you would have liked to begin with. "I—I'm not sure there's much point in tha—"

But regardless, Karina is there to interject, anyway.

Nudging herself into the scene and with her own phone in hand, the woman stands between you and him to do something that you stand a bit half and half on: it's somewhat annoying, and a bit out of bounds especially as friendships go to be giving out your number to men that you've only barely just met...however...

He is so fine, and a bit charming, to boot.

"Here's her number," you hear your friend say as she stands with her back towards you. The whole thing takes place in a matter of seconds, and as he slides his phone back into his pocket, Karina makes haste in whisking herself back out of the scene, but not before flashing you a knowing, mischievous smile.

"Trouble that one is, huh?" He says, thumbing back over his shoulder as she disappears into the rest of your friend group.

"You have no idea," you sigh in response, and now resigned to the fact that this is definitely going to be some kind of thing, you figure it best to move along towards the next most obvious course of action. Whatever this is going to be, after all. "So, what's your name?"

Corners of his mouth pulling into an all too pleasant curl, you hate how much it sort of makes you melt at the sight of it. An unfortunate side effect of much too attractive and seemingly also kinda cool guys, you figure.

"Jeno," he says, as if delighted by the fact that you would ever even ask. "Lee Jeno."

Over the next handful of days — through a shocking amount of quiet evenings spent at home around take-out boxes and cheap wine with the girls — texts from the cute blonde at the waterpark that you now know to be named Jeno come far more frequently than you realize you had anticipated.

For one, he knows that you don't live around here so you can't imagine there to be much of a reason for him to be pursuing you for much more than a fun romp in the sheets, only to then never speak to you ever again. It's not an arrangement you're all that opposed to under normal circumstances, though you can't help but consider that where you are mentally and emotionally right about now is far from normal circumstances.

And two, he hasn't really laid on the same sort of aggressive, sexual interest that you may have expected from a guy looking for that sort of thing.

In fact, talking to Jeno is just pretty...casual.

Seemingly making it a point to text you late into the night and right before bed (incredible timing every time, you note), you chuckle every time thinking that this time to be the one where he comes on strong. After all, most men only text women that they're interested in this late at night for one thing and one thing only, so every time as the chime of your phone receiving a message comes through, you arm yourself with the armor of anticipating something heinous to some degree — you can only hope that it's not a dick pic, at least.

Phone in hand, lights off and snuggling into the plush, comfortable sheets of your bedding, you unlock your phone and navigate to your messaging application to see just what it is that lies in wait for you this evening.

Jeno [01:23]: good morning, or night, i never know how to announce myself at this time of the day

It's sort of annoying the way you can't help but smile, but you're thankful enough for the fact that he is unable to see the effect he already has on you in such a way.

In the wake of being told that you're not wanted, not desired — sometimes it's nice to have a reminder that not everyone feels that way.

You have no intention of engaging in anything more than basic flirtation with this man, but hey, that can be enough.

You [01:24]: how do you always know exactly when i'm settling in for bed?

Typing bubble popping up immediately after sending your message, you can't help but wonder just how eager this guy really is to be the receiver of your full attention.

Jeno [01:24]: i have karina on look out so she can let me know precisely the right time to hit you up

You [01:24]: creepy, but i respect your willingness to tell me, at least

Jeno [01:25]: well, you know what they say, honesty is the best policy. what are you guys doing tomorrow night?

Taking a moment to mull over the question before you begin typing your reply, you answer him easily, but mostly out of curiosity in why it is that he's asking.

You [01:26]: i don't think we have anything planned? you can ask karina ;p

Jeno [01:26]: very funny, are you going to hold that terrible joke over my head forever? anyway, my friend is having a party at his place, parents out of town for a week, you guys should come by.

You're none too proud of the way your heart beats just that much harder for a split second in time at the coming through of the invitation. Still, play it cool.

You [01:27]: i'll ask the girls tomorrow if we have anything going on and i'll get back to you. are any of your friends cute?

You're not sure you've ever seen the typing bubble pop up that quickly in your life after sending that message.

Jeno [01:27]: really man? already trying to scope out my friend group to see if you can get an upgrade? :(

You [01:28]: i have friends...they will want to know...it will likely be a huge deciding factor in whether or not we show up at all so think carefully lol

Jeno [01:28]: fine! yeah i guess some of them are handsome, not quite as handsome as me but you know what can you do? hehe

Rolling your eyes but with grin still plastered across your lips, you begin typing your response back to him.

You [01:28]: i'll pass the message along then

Jeno [01:29]: cool. get some sleep then, you really shouldn't be texting strange men so late at night anyway, who knows what could happen hehehe goodnight, rest well

Part of you wants to rebuke the claim despite very much having already considered it for yourself, but in an effort to not appear too interested and too eager, you simply leave the conversation alone and with that as the last message sent for the evening.

Butterflies in your stomach and the promise of who-knows-what at this party tomorrow leaves sleep hard to come by, but you figure it's at least a little worth it if it means checking your phone for text messages from a different man whose name starts with a 'J' for once.

Of course, you're none too surprised once you find yourself at said house party.

A bit more rambunctious than what you'd typically like to find yourself at back home — with slews of college-aged people running, yelling, dancing and talking amongst themselves as well as throughout the entire premises of the property both in and outside — as you and your friends make your way inside to the enormous stacking of alcohol bottles and disposable plastic cups, it's one particularly bright head of blonde hair that catches the corner of your eye as he makes his way across the room and towards you with a smile.

Nudging your arm gently with his elbow, as if to say 'I told you so' about your being there at all, Jeno grins even wider once your eyes meet. "So? What do you think?"

Looking around briefly, you glance back towards him with suspicion plastered across your face.

"I'm starting to think you might be too young for me."

Jeno reels at the suggestion with eyes wide and full of shock. "Why? Adults can party. You don't party?"

"I do, just not typically messy frat house parties...at least, not anymore."

Knitting his eyebrows together and slanting his grin, Jeno cocks his head sideways to look at you with something of a twinge of judgment. "It's a beach town, and a popular destination for summer breakers obviously, what do you expect? Maybe try winter break, next time."

Nudging you again to punctuate the thought playfully, you look back towards Giselle who quickly pushes an alcoholic concoction of you'll-never-know into your hand with a grin before her and the others begin to disappear into the crowd.

"Wait! Where are you guys going?"

"You have your date, we're going to find ours," Winter answers back with a casual flip of her hair. Then, her attention pulls to the man standing just beside you. "What was his name again?"

"Jaemin."

"Whatever," she says quickly and as if nothing he could have possibly responded with would have made any sort of a difference either way. "We'll be around, we all have our phones. If you need someone, you know how to get us."

Panic subtly settling in at the thought of being left alone with this guy that you barely know at all, it's not that you feel unsafe with him, or that you can't trust his intentions — no, it's far from anything so insidious that has your nerves firing and the anxiety bubbling up in your gut.

What if it's awkward?

"Ta-ta!" Ningning chimes as the four of them walk away, and it's in that moment that you realize you are deep, deep into the lions den, now.

In a room full of busy people, you can't think of a time that you've ever felt quite so alone.

Then, you feel your phone vibrate. A message from Karina.

Kari [20:42]: let the hot guy from the waterpark make it all better :p you know what they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else

Turning your phone far out of sight of Jeno upon reading the message, another comes through before you have the chance to begin typing any kind of reply to her.

Kari [20:42]: or bent over by someone else, or on top of someone else? well you can fill me in on the details when he's done filling

You don't bother reading the rest of the message as you quickly lock your phone and shuffle it back into your pocket, but you're thankful enough when your attention comes back to Jeno that in the meantime he has struck up conversation with another guy just beside him. It gives you a moment to look him over for the first time, too: messily slicked back blonde hair and black button down shirt that's equally messily tucked into far too nicely fitting black jeans with a carefully placed aesthetic rip at one of the knees.

He looks good, and you're glad you didn't over or underdress in your fitted jeans and simple blouse, also.

"This is my friend, Renjun, he's the home owner...well, sort of," Jeno starts once he realizes you're finished with the nonsense going on within your cellular device. "He's one of the handsome ones we touched on briefly last night."

Introducing yourself in kind, you shake hands with the new acquaintance as he laughs at the concept of being discussed. "Thanks, happy to know I made the cut, I guess. What are you doing talking to this fuckin' guy, anyway?"

Jeno's eyes widen at the sudden attack. "Hey! I just complimented you, come on!"

Not helping the laugh that erupts from their jest, you take a sip of your horrendous drink before responding. "It's been a little out of my hands from the get-go. I'm just sort of along for the ride, he keeps texting me every night, what am I supposed to do?"

"Ah, yeah, I've heard that about this one before," Renjun nods and sighs, with Jeno spiraling into disaster beside the both of you all the while. "Can't let him start texting, he'll never quit. I hate to tell you, but you're basically married, now. He's a level five clinger."

"I am not a level five clinger!"

"That's unfortunate," you casually respond, carrying on the conversation with Renjun as if Jeno not even standing there at all. "Hopefully he doesn't have any weird quirks that are hard to live with, then."

Renjun shakes his head as he takes a sip from his own cup. "Nah, he's a pretty simple guy, all things considered, I think you'll have a pretty easy time with this one."

"Well that's comforting, at least."

"Hello!" Jeno finally interjects with success, stalling the ongoing banter and bringing both of your attention back to him. "I'm literally right here!"

Smiling then, Renjun brings a heavy hand up and to the back of Jeno's shoulder before turning on his heel and beginning his exit in the wake of destruction. "Have fun, call me if you need anything."

With a lull in the ongoing messiness that so far is this evening as it stands, you and Jeno stand calmly before one another for a few moments with no words spoken; that is, of course, until his lips part and he gently offers up an idea of his own.

"Want to go some place quieter so we can talk?"

There's certainly a distinct level of unease that courses through your bones with every step you take towards the second level of the home. Passing by people already paired off for the evening and making out on the steps for what feels like forever — you can't help but wonder if this is some kind of preliminary entry into what he thinks is going to be on the agenda for the evening. Yes, you had already considered this much, and yes, you're aware of precisely the types of things that go on at parties such as this, but it doesn't mean that just because you're here and to see a guy, at that, that you're resigning yourself to partaking in any such festivities.

Jeno leads the way, and once the two of you make it up to the dimly lit hallway lined with a handful of doors — some open, some closed, and a handful of people leaned against the walls engaging in their own, private activities — it's as he continues towards one of the open doors of what you could only presume to be a bedroom that your heart sinks into your stomach and you dig your heels into the ground.

"I don't—" Is all you can manage out, because it's awkward and you don't really want to make an ordeal out of this either. You don't know this man, and especially not well enough to know how he'll take to being denied the thing that he seems to be under the impression that he will be obtaining tonight. As a result, you lay out the 'soft no,' in hopes that it will be enough to get the point across.

Head turning and glancing back at you upon hearing the words, you're a little taken aback by his response: less because of any of the potential, aforementioned reasons, but rather...because he appears confused.

Did he really think he had it in the bag that easily? Just because you showed up tonight?

The thought is enough to raise a level of irritation in you that has you feeling comfortable enough in asserting yourself just that much more. "I don't want to—I'm not going to—"

It still takes a second, but when he finally realizes, it seems to hit him like a semi-truck.

"O—Oh, no! No, no! That's not...I wasn't...I didn't think—"

Hands up in front of his chest as if in full retreat just on account of the mere implication of it, you're a little charmed by the tinge of blush that takes across his cheeks and especially highlights his ears.

But more than that, you believe him in his earnest.

"I just thought because it's quieter up here, no music and less people...I didn't think anything was going to—we can keep the door open! Or go back downstairs, anything is fine by me."

You're charmed, just a bit. You hate to admit it to yourself, and you certainly aren't going to admit it to this man, but you are.

Offering him a gentle smile, you nod back towards the direction in which he had been heading just prior. "It's fine, we can go—" you say, stepping forward again with insistence that Jeno do the same, and as the two of you meet side by side once more, you're careful to add one more addition, just for clarity sake.

"—But keep the door open."

A couple of days later and once the banging drum of headaches and hangovers have worn off, with the friend groups now thoroughly enough enmeshed on account of Renjun's family home and an absolutely unfathomable amount of adult beverages, the next most obvious plan of action is set into motion.

Dinner and bowling.

One thing about this town that you've come to realize is that there is little to do — and especially during the summer time — that doesn't directly involve alcohol and partying. With most restaurants and shops closed until the middle of August at least, the guys are happy enough to inform that there is still one mainstay left that doesn't involve having a terrible time the next morning.

The dinner seating is something that you can't help but take note of: two, long tables pushed together by the wait staff to accommodate such a large party of patrons, with Jeno sat right across the table from you, you notice the way that certain budding couples seem similarly paired off. It's sort of cute, in a way, but you choose not to pay it much mind. Sure, chats with the handsome blonde just along the way serve as a pleasant way to pass the time, and you'd be lying to yourself (and doing a terrible job of it, at that) if you tried to say that you hadn't at least briefly considered where else this could go just for a fun little before the vacation were to come to an end.

Just as the thought comes to its conclusion in your mind, your eyes come up and meet Jeno's over the brim of his beer glass.

That charming-ass eye smile.

Slowly, he brings the glass down while maintaining eye contact, his hand disappears under the table, and you watch his eyes fall to whatever it is that he's doing under there.

Your questions are answered promptly, however, by the vibration of your phone in your jacket pocket.

Jeno [18:12]: interesting seating arrangements we've got here

You try to bite back your smile. Easier said than done, and dealing with his texting antics much simpler when from the comfort of your own bedroom.

Still, you play along and begin typing our your response.

You [18:12]: almost like they're hinting at something

Jeno [18:12]: i'm not too good at signals, need someone to spell it out for me hehe

Glancing back up from your phone, you catch his eyes as he does the same with a knowing grin plastered across his lips.

You [18:13]: you'd have to ask them, i don't know anything about it :p

Jeno [18:13]: okay will do, but speaking of spelling it out...you look amazing tonight

Stilling in your seat at the sudden forwardness of the message, a typing bubble pops up again just as quickly as the previous message is received.

Jeno [18:13]: like really...you looked amazing the other night at the party too. do you always look amazing or is it just when you happen to be seeing me?

Clearing your throat, you shift in your seat just slightly before reaching forward and taking the glass placed in front of you into hand in preparation for a much needed sip of water. You ignore him purposefully, but you can feel the sharp gaze of the man in question as he monitors your every move.

Jeno [18:14]: don't think i didn't notice the way you were looking at me the day we met :0

Unfortunate, but you had been a bit obvious, largely on account of not having expected being faced with seeing this man ever again. You'll have to reel it in better next time.

You glance up again, this time with intention of meeting his eyes — from across the table, Jeno sits with one corner of his lips curved upwards ever so slightly, as if knowing precisely what it is that he's doing. Not surprising, of course, he's not coming onto you now on accident — but he's never been this forward and the only thing you can really chalk it up to now is the dwindling time left on yours and the girls remaining vacation time.

As they say, 'shit or get off the pot.'

But are you interested? Frankly, you're not really sure.

Handsome? Without a doubt. Nice? Sure, seemingly so. Trustworthy? Probably enough to enjoy a night together.

However, you can't help but remain starkly aware of the still gaping whole in your heart where Jaehyun not so long ago resided.

Looking over his features again, Jeno takes another sip of his drink: messy, blonde hair, beautiful eyes, the most charming smile and all accented by that devastatingly stunning mole seated just on his cheek bone.

Yeah, maybe you are, because when you take him in as he sits before you now, just like this, enjoying each and every physically enamoring aspect of a man all the more infatuated with you, as well — you can't help but wonder...

God, how nice is your dick, then?

And just like that, is if everyone in the world having a window of insight into your mind, your phone vibrates again. Naturally, your first thought being another text from Jeno as your eyes remain glued to him, but with every round of vibration that sends through the device it quickly dawns on you that not only has he not dipped his vision back down from you to fire off another round of flirtation, but rather that the disturbance coming through is not a text message at all.

It's a phone call.

Looking down, the number isn't one that you recognize although the location code is. Eyebrows furrowing in thought and vague concern as the screen continues to illuminate in your hand, you feel the gentle tap of a foot under the table and from quite evidently — right in front of you.

Eyes now upwards again, you meet Jeno's concerned ones, but you don't have much time to quell whatever worry he may have before you're up, out of your seat, and heading outside to take the call.

Your first thought is one that sends anxiety through every nerve under your skin: family or friends in emergency, god forbid something terrible having happened, but once you reach the parking lot and are met with the cool breeze of the coast just down the way — when you answer the phone, you come to find yourself no more quelled of fears upon hearing the voice on the other end.

"Hey," the voice says, low and seemingly already defeated. "Sorry, I know you're out of town, I just wanted to talk to you."

Heart beating nearly straight through your chest and hands shaking as you strain to hold your phone to your ear, you stand in silence as your mind races with the how's and why's of what this is and could mean.

After having not received a reply for so long that you don't even notice the amount of time passed, the man on the other end speaks again.

"Hello? Are you there? It's Jaehyun, sorry, I changed numbers."

"Uh, y—yeah, I know who it is, sorry, I'm just—" you pause again to think through your words carefully, as well as garnering yourself more time in an attempt to steady the quake in your voice. "—I wasn't expecting to hear from you."

Chuckling lightly, he carries on, and just before he does you catch a glimpse of the blonde previously seated across from you at the table as he carefully exits the establishment to check on your whereabouts.

"Yeah, I know. Is it a bad time? I think you might agree that we left off on the wrong foot."

Swallowing down the lump in your throat as you quietly acknowledge Jeno's presence, you're not entirely sure where to go from here. The way that your heart thumps strongly at hearing Jaehyun's voice again is one that's hard to ignore, but the way that he broke up with you and only now is contacting you again lies equally as much on your mind.

He doesn't deserve a conversation, and especially not a second chance, but it doesn't change the fact that deep down you want to grant him both.

For better or for worse, however, now isn't a good time.

"I'm out with the girls right now but I can call you tomorrow night, when there's less going on. You know how they are, always have me up to something."

"Sure, you have the number, call me any time," he says with the most calm and nearly adoring of tones. "I miss you, have fun."

"Th—thanks," you answer slowly, and with that, the call ends.

Standing in the middle of the parking lot with Jeno only a few feet away in silence, you suppose that it's probably written all over you the sort of affect that something like this has on you. Despondent and borderline broken after having only so much as heard a few simple words from a man who despite all of his poor treatment of you still holds such a strong place in your heart...

There's no other word for it, simply put, it's pain — and soul-crushingly so.

You can hear he gravel under Jeno's shoes as he slowly approaches you, and there's a small part of you that wishes he just doesn't. Go back inside, stop pretending to care about this or us beyond just wanting a quick fuck, quit playing the nice guy.

But you know you're projecting, and you bite back the venom of your thoughts so that they don't manifest into underserved words.

"You okay?" He sheepishly asks and with concern weighing heavily on his features. You force a half-assed smile in response.

"My ex-boyfriend called," you huff out a laugh. "Broke up with me over text a bit ago, now he wants to talk. Said he misses me."

"And you're gonna tell him to go fuck himself, right?" Jeno says, and much to your surprise. Not used to such a strong response from him in regards to, well, much of anything.

Shrugging, you let out a defeated sigh. "Maybe? No? Probably not."

Silence. Then you glance back towards him.

"I love him."

"Yeah, of course you do, it's fresh," he says delicately, closing the distance between the two of you to take your wrist into one of his hands and carefully usher you back inside. "But that doesn't mean he's deserving of it."

"I know."

A small squeeze of your wrist, as if just to let you know that he's there despite your already being well aware, and looking up towards him as the two of you re-enter the building, Jeno smiles at you widely with teeth and eyes on full display in a way that sort of reminds you to just live in the moment — the here and the now — and to worry about that, whatever that is, later.

"I'm just a guy, I get it," he starts with his face leaned into the side of your head to whisper the words directly into your ear. "But sometimes accidents happen on purpose."

Turning to look at him and meeting so close to his face that it has you just about startled, you roll your eyes and snort at his attempt to bestow aged wisdom upon you in your time of need.

"That doesn't make any sense, is that your idea of giving advice?"

Slinging an arm up and around your shoulders to pull you in tighter against him, he once again brings his face to the side of your own. "Yeah, how'd I do?"

"Terrible."

"Hey, but you laughed, though."

As it turns out, there are perks to making friends with the guy who works at the waterpark.

That is, beyond his good-looks, pleasing disposition and the fact that he tends to be quite into you, when Jeno invites you and yours back to the waterpark for some free-entry fun, the five of you can't help but take him up on the offer.

Besides, it gives you just that much more reason to have your phone out of sight and subsequently out of mind.

Rather than the typical morning arrival, however, Jeno tells you to come later in the evening on account of things tending to be more quiet. This turns out to be the case and much to all of your delight as the crowds have long since thinned out and lines to rides are much shorter than your last foray at the place of amusement. Still, it's less time to do as much as you all probably would have liked, and as the closing hours quickly approach, you and the girls make your way back to the lockers to not only collect your belongings, but once again meet with the man who brought you all there to begin with.

You come to realize that you're quite fond of how he looks fresh off of a work shift, with tousled hair and a bit of a sun-kissed glow to his skin only amplified by the glisten of water and sunscreen — when Jeno approaches the group you find that while yes, you have seen this man now numerous times before so the way that he looks is of no surprise to you, something about him like this, like right now, is different.

And as usual, when it comes to Jeno, you're the only person in the room.

One strong arm up and against the metal just like the time previously meeting like this, he all but cages you in as he leans casually against it to speak to you. "I've got to stay a bit late to do some minor maintenance in the backend, want to stay with me and we can go out afterwards or do you have somewhere to be with your friends?"

It's a lovely offer, and the idea of seeing a waterpark long past closing is an enticing one just for the thrill of it, but you're not one to pass up on dinner with the girls that brought you here for an after hours slide ride.

"We were actually about to head out to dinner, text me when you're out though and maybe we all can—"

"No. Way!"

The shrill voice comes from Ningning this time, and a bit to your surprise as it's typically either Karina or Winter with something loud and boisterous to say. Regardless, the woman comes up quickly from behind Jeno with arms crossed fiercely as if personally slighted by your unwillingness to ditch her.

"Dinner at the lil' diner down the block can wait, when the hot lifeguard asks you to stay after closing, you stay after closing."

"Ningning..." you bemoan first, only to look up at Jeno who is far too busy feigning a lack of listening in to the situation playing out right in front of him.

"Stay," she insists again, slinging a t-shirt up and over her shoulder before slowly sauntering away as if having won the war that she, herself, started. "We'll see you later—"

And just before disappearing entirely with the other women, she turns back once more with just another thing to add.

"—If you come home tonight, that is."

Jeno's work in the the back where some of the machinery is kept is quick and for that you are thankful on account of it being mind-numbingly boring watching him do anything at all that he is meant to do there. The flex of the muscles in his arms and back growing bland far sooner than you might have anticipated, you're happy to hear only twenty or so minutes in that he's finished and the two of you can carry on with your tour of the premises now that there is no one else there but the both of you.

As you walk, he tells you fun stories of silly happenings since his three years of working there has begun: tales of lost belongings on slides and peoples swim bottoms being stolen by the waves of the pools that artificially craft them, the two of you laugh into the calm, night air as you circle back around to the large river that spans nearly the entire lot of the waterpark — calm and meant mostly for simply lounging about in the sun, Jeno sits at one of the small tables offered just at the side and motions for you to sit just beside him, as well.

Still in nothing more than your swimsuit and a towel, it feels oddly comfortable. In fact, despite your checking, you haven't caught the man eyeing you down at all — not that that leads you into a false sense of believing that he simply hasn't, because frankly, you know better than that.

But at least he's willing to reign it in in the event that you could see him in the act.

And on top of that, you've been stealing glances yourself, anyway.

"Things good?" He asks, and it feels so abrupt given the timing. You know what he's referring to with eyes honed in on any possible change of your expression, but you attempt to maintain composure whilst under the proverbial microscope of his view.

"Yeah," you sigh, leaning back into your chair casually. "Everything is good. Sort of not looking forward to leaving next week."

Jeno smiles at the words. "Yeah, this town is fun, but only on vacation. I think you'd find if you lived here all year around you'd miss it back where you're from."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Just gonna have to make sure you get the best this place has to offer then," he says with a groan as he brings himself back up and to his feet. Hand extended out towards you with an offering to help you stand, you stare at him blankly for a few moments before slowly taking it and allowing yourself to be hoisted upwards. "Shall we take a swim, then?"

"Are we allowed—"

The thought suddenly cut off by the sight of Jeno reaching down and pulling off his loose, white tank top shirt. And sure, it's loose enough that you've more or less caught a glimpse of everything under there already, but not like this, not on full display.

"No, absolutely not," he laughs as he chucks it into the chair he was only just sat in. "But no one checks the cameras anyway and they already know I'm here after hours as it is so it's not going to ring any alarm bells that there's movement on site. Is that a yes?"

You pause. You need the moment to think this through, not that you even really want to. Deep down, you sort of know what this means, at least to the most basic extent, and sure — you can decline anything at any time and you're pretty certain he'll take it in stride — but still, saying yes to this is effectively saying yes to something.

"Yeah, let's take a swim."

The water feels colder now without the sun beating down on it but you come to find that the trade off is the way that the overhead lights as well as the submerged ones illuminate the water in such a beautiful way that everything glitters all around you. Following Jeno's lead as you both wade through and into one of the man-made rock sculpture caves that under typical servicing hours, lend much needed reprieve from the sunlight — now instead you feel a bit something like a character in a fantasy film: a mermaid coming back to her home as the wetness of the ocean glistens off of the barely lit walls of the faux-rock now surrounding you in hideaway.

Realistically, the scene is nothing special, but right now and with present company, your feeling of being locked away and hidden from any potential prying eyes feels especially heavy knowing precisely the thoughts that have weighed on both of your minds ever since they very first meeting here.

As silence falls between the two of you and you comfortably place yourself with your back against the smooth offering of rocks, you use it as a moment to take in the sight of him while he's not paying attention: shirtless and with flesh on full display, Jeno brings a hand up and out of the water to push his hair back and out of his face before catching hint of the fact that he has an audience, after all.

Then, he slowly closes the distance between the two of you, and with the tiniest grin of understanding perking at the corners of his lips, you suppose that there's a part of you that sort of always resigned yourself to this.

And really, what's summer vacation if not for having a summer fling?

One hand planted against the firm offering of rock on either side of you, caged in but feeling neither scared nor small on account of it, Jeno brings himself close enough to you that you have little more option that to struggle with your footing at the bottom of the pool and allow him the gentle insistence of settling between your legs.

Slowly, he dips his head down and towards you, but you pause the moment to speak in a whisper.

"You brought me here to do this, didn't you?"

To that, he only smiles again before continuing with the movement. "You came knowing that."

A gentle first kiss, perhaps much more so than you would have anticipated; rather than coming in hot and heavy from the start, the true feeling of being with and near him instead comes from the way his chest presses you tightly into place as his mouth slots firmly against your own. It's a little breathtaking, and somewhat overwhelming having been caged in like this by him, but with every forward movement of his lips and tongue against your own you can't help but feel as though the breath being pulled straight from your lungs, and with intent, at that.

The first, testing grind of his hips against you has you gasping into his mouth, and the sinister curl of his lips tells you that he couldn't be more pleased by the reaction.

One, strong hand dropping down from the rocks behind you and instead holding firm at your thigh from the underside, Jeno holds your leg up and out just enough to maintain the open space so that he has precisely the access that he desires like this, and with another slow, deliberate grind of what you know to be the solid length of himself beneath much too thin swim trunks, you can't help the way that your head lolls backwards and just about slaps into the solid structure behind you.

Pulling from your mouth as if to allow you the ability to breath, warm lips trail down your jaw line and back around to your ear, but rather than speaking anything in particular, the man simply allows you to listen to the quiet moans and exhales that drop from his lips as a result of the friction forming between the both of your bodies.

With every simulated drive of himself into you comes a breathy, needy sound fallen from his mouth. On top of that, with just the right angle, paired with just the right amount of speed and force behind his hips...

Surely you won't cum like this?

But with how heavenly he sounds against your ear and the tensing in your thighs and abdomen, you pull your bottom lip up between your teeth hard with eyes clenched shut as if not wanting to make it so evident just the effect he's having on you like this. Squirming within his grasp, and your orgasm feeling just on the cusp but ever so slightly out of your hands, you huff out with frustration and throw all caution to the wind in a desperate whirlwind of pleading events.

"Please, God, I want you," you whine against his ear. "Want to feel you."

It's a terrible idea and you know that, for a plethora of reasons. However, you're horny and on the edge of cumming and cannot possibly be concerned with any of them. You've been good enough up until now pretending to have little to no interest in his cock at all, but enough is enough, especially as it glides against you rock hard and barely clothed between your bodies.

Jeno, for better or for worse, has other plans.

"Want that too," he whispers against your ear, the hot puffs of his breath washing over the otherwise warm, wet smooth of your skin. Unfortunately, instead of freeing himself from the very same confines that plague you, he merely picks up the pace of his hips against yours.

As well as aiding with a slight shift of the angle at which he grinds against you.

Turns out, that'll do the trick.

Orgasm fast approaching now as he repeatedly presses his hips against the apex of your thighs, he continues with the original train of thought. "You ever been fucked in a body of water like this? Doesn't make for great lubrication, unfortunately—"

You can't be bothered to pay all that much attention to the science lesson, and with your hands gripping into his back and biceps as he continues hard and fast against you, you feel the distinct feeling of his teeth dragging down ever so slightly against the column of your neck in such a way that it has your head spinning and toes curling with how close to the edge you are like this.

Not for long, though, as he finishes the thought entirely. "—Want that glide to be so fucking smooth."

Frankly, you're not used to hearing him curse all that much, so when he does it's especially meaningful, so when he shoots down your begging for him to fuck you instead because he has far more delightful plans for you in the future and under more optimal circumstances, you couldn't bite back the shriek if you had tried as your orgasm tears through you with so much force that you swear you may crack a tooth with how tightly your teeth are clenched through it.

And like a good boy, Jeno 'fucks' you through it as every shockwave of release jolts through your body and your clit begs to be untouched. Releasing the grip on you, he pulls his face back around to look you in the eyes with an all-too-proud grin plastered across his lips — though, you don't get much of a chance to fight him on it as those very same ones quickly meet yours just as adoringly as the first time.

When he pulls back, he's still smiling — odd behavior for the un-orgasmed half of the equation, you think, but before speaking, the man brings a hand up to your forehead to delicately wipe away a handful of stray hairs that found their way there in all of the debauchery.

Eyes meeting, you can tell he has something to say, and that you're probably not going to like it.

"You wanted me to fuck you, and raw at that."

"Oh come on!" You groan in playful embarrassment, pushing him away from you with desperate splashes of water left in your wake as you escape. Jeno only laughs as he trails behind lazily.

"You did," he reaffirms with a teasing chuckle. "You so did."

The following days come to pass far quicker than you had anticipated, you're soon to find.

With every day, every moment now seemingly enmeshed between the groups of friends, time with Jeno is more common than time away — no one hears about the goings on at the waterpark, at least, not on your end (and you have reason to believe that he hasn't said anything either on account of the fact that Jaemin would never shut up about it if he had) — but there's evidence enough in the distinct change of something between the two of you as the brief, casual brushing of hands slowly transforms into open and public slotting together of fingers during movie nights and not-so-concealed presses of kisses to the temple of your head at any time that Jeno seems to be able to close the distance between your bodies.

It's nice, and you can admit as much to yourself without fear or worry. The problem lies in the fact that therein resides so much more than it simply being nice now, and in fact, you're somehow managed to stumble yourself precisely in the line of fire of what it is you had sort of been hoping to avoid this entire time.

Granted, it's not necessarily worth a conversation on account of logistics and the more or less of what this is, but still, even with it only having been two weeks since you've met this guy, he reads a bit like an open book, and if there's one thing you're fairly certain you have down about him and the way his mind works, it's that he wants to have that talk, regardless of the realistic outcome.

Really, it's the least you can do on account of the whirlwind, summer romance you've happily found yourself wound up in, in spite of everything.

On the last night before you and yours leave to go back into the city, the blowout house party is at home; Ningning's summer house. An excellent decision on account of the fact that the five of you can pack up early the day before and simply wake up to leave the next day with little more to worry about than some final touches and your hangovers as a result.

Though, leaving the next day is far from what you currently wish to be attending much thought to.

With folding chairs strewn about around some of the tables in the back yard, as well as the barbecue that's fired up and attended to by Renjun, Mark and Giselle; with a red, plastic cup in hand as you sit facing out towards the crashing waves of the beach, you can't help but allow your gaze to fall to the side and onto the object of your desire that was never really supposed to end up as much more than simply the hot guy that worked at the waterpark.

Instead, you watch him as he engages in a conversation with Winter — a playful argument about which dog breeds are cutest — and it's times like this that you make a conscious effort to take mental snapshots of this moment, right here, right now. Making sure that you never forget this feeling, never forget what it was like to live in this time with the guy who sports such quintessential summer hair and reminds you of what it feels like to feel young once more, and forever.

Eyes curved into perfect, crescent shapes and a matching perfect smile as he laughs along to whatever it is that your friend is saying, suppose he must feel the heavy weight of eyes upon him as he shifts to grant you his attention once more.

There's a few seconds of silence, but you watch the way his face melts from one of joyous laughter to something that's more akin to fond adoration.

"Want to go talk?"

Jeno doesn't look all that surprised when you say the words, and instead offers you the gentlest of smiles, as if already anticipating as much, anyway.

"Sure, let's talk."

It's colder the closer the two of you get to the waves of the water, the sound of them crashing lightly against the muddy sands that lie beneath — with the sun just about set already and hues of orange with purple only barely peeking out from above the costal line — with legs dangled over the side of the small, wooden pier, Jeno slings an arm up and over your shoulders to tug you closer against himself, partially for the warmth and combatting the breeze, but really, just because he wants to have you there.

"Have fun?" He finally asks, you nod against him.

"I've kind of fallen for you a bit, ya know that?"

To this admission, Jeno reels so hard that it has you looking up at him — he looks far more shocked than you would have anticipated going into this because...obviously? And as a result, you snort out a laugh. "What? Isn't it obvious?"

"I mean—I'm just...surprised, I guess?" He admits awkwardly before settling back into place. "We're having fun and I was trying so damn hard, but I didn't think it actually worked."

"You're kinda oblivious, yeah?"

Jeno laughs. "I've heard that before, yeah."

With the words now out in the open, you allow there to be some silence between the two of you — something of a ruminating of what this is and what that means between the two of you right now, with no real need to add anything more to it in immediate time.

Instead, the two of you look out towards the water — still painted with pinks and purples as the sun sets over it for its final few minutes before nightfall.

You inhale to speak, though you're not thrilled about it despite its necessity.

"We can't...keep this going, you know," you say first, choosing words carefully as you carry out the thought. "It was fun but you know...back to real life, back to home."

Glancing up to gauge his response, Jeno only smiles as the words for a few, passing seconds before looking down at you and responding.

"Yeah, I know."

Through more silence, you think that you can feel it in his chest the way his heart beats in such a way that the sadness of the circumstances is evident. An unfortunate reality of such things: sometimes it really is wrong place, wrong time, wrong location, wrong...everything but you.

Standing again and heading back inside with fingers interlocked, you can't help but think of how the thing they never tell you about short term relationships is that they can be just as meaningful, just as impactful as long term ones. There's nothing inherently lesser, or worse, or meaningless about them — a snapshot in time where everything between you and someone else was perfect and incapable of being tarnished, at that — really, it's an ideal circumstance, especially as someone with a desire to rekindle hope in the concept of loving and being loved.

Just because a relationship ends, doesn't mean it lacks value.

And when you go back home, you'll take Jeno with you: perfect hair, perfect smile, and adorably unaware disposition all packaged up as a reminder of how good it can be to simply be.

Getting back inside, after enjoying the inviting sights and sounds of the quiet outdoors, the unrelenting boom of loud music and yelling friends pierces your ears in such a way that you can't help but attempt to curl in on yourself and escape from it. Jeno takes notice with a squeeze of your hand upon arriving to the kitchen, quickly pouring drinks for each of you and then dipping down next to your ear.

"Want to go upstairs where it's quieter?"

Yeah, of course you do. Still one last thing on the agenda for this trip, after all.

Discarding nearly full cups and making your way up the stairs; through the hallway that's all too familiar to you by now, you can't help but call back to the last time you'd done this very same walk, with this very same man: a few key differences now compared to then that are worth taking note of, however. For one, Jeno's grip on your hand as he leads you up despite not even being entirely sure which room it is that you'd once called yours is, and two, you now find yourself far more open to any potential scenarios that may arise.

In fact, you're hoping that they do.

Swapping places and taking the lead, Jeno follows just behind you as you open the door to your bedroom — stepping inside where all of your packed bags and other such belongings not yet able to be stuffed away until the very last moment lie about on countertops or draped over chair backs — when the two of you step inside, you realize that there's a part of you that has sort of already come to this conclusion a long time ago. It's difficult to pinpoint the exact moment, and likely well enough before the late evening spent alone with him at his place of employment, rather, your memory lands at that time in the parking lot, when your ex called, and Jeno was right there to pick up the proverbial pieces of you.

It wasn't much, just that he was there. Sometimes that's enough.

Turning back to face him, it's a quick movement and so much so that the surprise of it is evident on his face with wide eyes and a late response to the feeling of your lips on his, but more than that, the sound of the door shutting behind his back and locking into place by no ones insistence but your own.

He's quick enough on the uptake, however; hands coming up to slot gently on either side of your face to pull you just that much more into the kiss — and with the length of your body pressed just as hard against him as he stands pinned between you and hard wood, the close proximity is just so giving in how you're able to catch every hitch of his breath in his throat and forced back groan in his chest.

You pull back, and with a wickedly playful grin across your face. "You've been waiting?"

To that, Jeno scoffs before bringing hands down to your shoulders and gently pushing you to step backwards towards the bed. "Only as long as you have."

The removal of clothing is quick but never quick enough despite the flurry of fabric strewn about the floor through the incessant need to kiss and be kissed by him. Rather, the two of you only part from one another if it's required to discard something that now, more than ever, is no longer desired.

The irony, of course, is in the fact that the both of you have already seen so much of what there is to be seen. Swimsuits only leaving so much to the imagination, as is the same for the pool boys usual choice of lazy attire — you come to find that when presented differently, the absence of clothing and the emergence of skin that you think you've already grown used to couldn't be further from the case. It looks different, feels different — the smooth palm of your hands sliding over arm muscles that you've already felt so many times before as his teeth catch at the bottom of your lip in a kiss that only becomes that much more heated with every passing second — the man that you've known all of the way up until now still might just have so much more still to show you.

At least, that was your impression from the waterpark festivities that evening.

Creating space between your bodies only long enough to plop yourself back and onto the mattress, Jeno wastes no time in following you as he slots himself between your legs and once again kisses you as if never able to have enough of it. One hand pressed into the mattress beside your head, the other trails down the length of your form to settle right between your legs — and now, with no barriers between you and him but his own undergarments — just one, casual dip of his middle finger shallowly between your folds is enough to have your breath hitching differently against his lips.

He grins at the reaction, but says nothing.

Instead, he dips his head down leaving a trail of kisses and nips of his teeth into the flesh of your neck, shifting his positioning back and just enough to be able to mouth over one of your nipples with a firm, swirl of his tongue. It's nice, but nothing special — at least, not before the same pad of his finger between your legs finds such light but evident purchase against your clit.

Slow, careful circles rubbed against you, back arching ever so slightly off the bed and up against his mouth as he continues teasing licks against your flesh, it's a certain kind of torment feeling so much and not enough all at once, and you can't help but consider one fact: he knows it.

You're not one to beg (well, other than that one time), and you're certainly not going to be undone so easily by a guy that for all intents and purposes you barely even know, and biting back a groan, you tightly knit your eyes shut in hopes that perhaps he's not torturing you on purpose — dragging this out because you both know it's the first and last time you'll ever get to have it — and surely he'll make quick work of you soon enough.

But the slow, down and inward press of the same finger towards your opening, only to replace the empty spot with his thumb has you thinking otherwise.

Jeno barely penetrates you with the single tip of his digit — if he does, it's so shallow that you can barely even feel it — a crime in and of itself, but amplified by the fact that you're racing towards the point of no return in what it is that you want, and if he insists on teasing you with the opportunity of being filled by him, then little does he know that he's stumbled upon the grandest of unravelings of you.

A heavy exhale, you decide you have to look down to take it all in, and especially if you're going to have a chance at saying words at any point in time. As you crack an eye open, Jeno switches breast to take your other nub between warm, wet lips — and it's then that he digs a finger into you just a bit deeper than before and all the while maintaining attention to the aching bundle of nerves held captive beneath his thumb.

Now you're frustrated, and you're not sure you can hold evidence of that back much longer.

With another heavy exhale, you attempt to bear down your hips against his hand to feel more of him, but to that, Jeno looks up to meet eyes with you wearing a look that almost tells of disapproval.

"In a hurry?"

You groan, not entirely sure if at the words or the implications behind them.

He wants to take his time.

"No, just—" you all but whimper, head thrown back against the pillow beneath it once again as if resigned to simply being along for the ride with this man. "—Kind of killing me, here."

"Why?" He questions with lips still feathering against the skin of your chest.

Then, the finger far too casually settled at your opening is slowly driven in to the last knuckle, and it feels fucking electric.

"This what you want?"

For someone who has always had a low tone of voice, you're not sure where the next few levels in drop have come from, same going for the erotic gravel that courses through his throat with every word he says against you. Either way, that in combination with the full length of his middle finger buried in your cunt already has you wondering just how it is that you're going to get through this particular night.

Guys like this are supposed to kiss you, get a blowie, maybe give you the sloppiest oral sex you've ever had (but hey, at least the effort is there), and then fuck you into the mattress for a full, mind blowing three minutes before rolling onto their backs and passing out.

So, what the fuck is this?

"Yes," you resign yourself to answering, because presumably you won't receive much else if not for your going along with it. Squirming against his hand again, you feel him pull from you ever so slightly before once again burying the hand deep against you.

Jeno hums before speaking again. "I don't think it is, but I think you're willing to settle for now."

Oh, he's so annoying when knuckle deep in pussy.

It's then that he pulls himself up and into a knelt position between your legs: not removing his hand from your pussy, but instead, bringing the other one — now freed — to the same position.

The new thumb coming down to collect the slick collecting around his finger, he brings it to your clit to focus one hand entirely on that motion, and now leaving the other to focus entirely on the place where he enters you. Now, however, with far more range of movement and ease of angle, Jeno settles into a smooth, rhythmic flick of his wrist to once again simulate fucking you the way that you really want him to.

Everything but what you actually want, and it's driving you fucking insane.

It's almost perfect, though, and that you find irritating in and of itself. Glancing up at him, Jeno's attention is spent mostly on watching you and your face, only occasionally allowing his eyes to drop down to take in the sight of the absolute mess he's making of you now.

He adds a second finger, and with it, a slightly faster rhythm.

Still trying not to sound entirely defeated and fucked out, in the absence of your moans, instead the room fills with the familiar, wet sounds of the work that he's doing on you — and upon the realization, you might have to just moan, it's less humiliating than this.

A certain curl of his fingers, however, and you don't have to weigh the pros and cons any longer as the sound is ripped from your throat whether you like it or not.

"Oh," he whispers in the event of it, as if pleased by his sudden findings. "You liked that one."

"Sh—Shut up," you barely manage out in reply before another groan falls from you, and while you're frustrated and horny, you muster up the desire you begin making requests. "Faster," you whine out, hips grinding down against his hand in hopes for more friction against your clit.

"Demanding," Jeno coos in response, though not heeding it whatsoever and much to your displeasure. Instead, you feel another shift in the mattress from his movement, and despite being somewhat terrified of the next thing that this guy could have up his sleeve for you, you look down towards him...

Only to find him settling face first with your pussy, and two fingers carefully finding their way back inside of you.

"You're lucky I'm kind of a pushover," he says with a small chuckle, and punctuating it with a long, firm lick through the slit of your pussy that has your entire body trembling with promise. "You want to cum, then I'll make you cum."

There's not much to say to that, and not that you'd be able to on account of his lips quickly attaching themselves around the very spot that craves the attention. Less than that is the amount of time that you have to think over the fact that you're not going to be able to hold out very long due to him toying with you up until this moment, either. You consider that there's always a bit of ego involves in situations such as this — not wanting to appear too eager, too interested, but you suppose it's long past that point now, anyway.

With fingers dug deep inside of you and the expertly pointed grind of his tongue against your clit — relentlessly quick and just like you'd asked of his hand only moments prior, he's definitely trying to make you cum, and he most certainly is going to get his reward, as well.

Bottom lip pulled tightly between your teeth as every muscle in your lower body tenses for the impending release; one hand gripped into the sheets just below and the other coming up to find purchase in the bleached blonde hair that you've grown so fond of after such a short time — you're not able to say much as it feels as though every breath is being sucked out of you by the man as he teeters you on the edge one last time before pushing you over it — instead, you're somewhat displeased by how easy it is to say his name in little more than an airy chant; over, and over, and over again as he finally topples you over into orgasmic release and with a rush hitting so hard and so fast that any sound that once would have escaped from you is instead replaced with a silent shriek of nothingness as a result of your dry, spent throat.

You need a moment before anything else happens — many moments, in fact — of heavy breaths and a heaving chest as you attempt to collect yourself in the aftermath of it all, and there's a split second where the thought crosses your mind that if this was all that would amount from your night together with him, that might actually be good enough.

Still plenty of time left in the evening, however.

Finally, you pull in a full breath of fresh air before looking back down towards Jeno: face cradled in one hand and gazing at you with nothing but proud adoration in his eyes, you're annoyed but not enough to ignore the disheveled mess of hair atop his head, as well as the wet glisten of you that's still happily sported along his chin.

"Good?"

He's so annoying.

You roll your eyes. "Yes, you like being praised or something?"

"Doesn't everyone?" He playfully responds, once again dragging a finger through the prominent wetness of your folds. "Look how wet you are, so good for me."

You know he's toying with you, not meaning anything in particular by it, but you're not proud of how evidently correct he is, either. Regardless, he changes the subject fairly quickly beyond it.

"Are you down and out for the night already?" Jeno chuckles, pulling himself up and into a kneeling position once again and if anticipating the fact that you'll tell him you're not.

It's only then that you finally get a real, good look at the lining of what lies hidden beneath the last remaining black garment on him.

Not done, not even close.

Sitting up only long enough to grab an arm and pull him back down with you, Jeno catches himself with both palms splayed out on the mattress as you pull him into a kiss once again. This time is different, however. Beyond the taste of yourself so evident on his mouth, he kisses you in a way that's far needier, less held back than all of the other times before. Always wanted you, and probably painfully so, but not enough to ever put that above anything else at hand.

But, suppose it's his turn now.

Hand dipping down between both of your bodies and wasting no time slipping into the black fabric to feel him, your fingers wrap around the smooth flesh of his cock in such a way that already has him sighing into your mouth — it's sort of addicting, the way he sounds and feels and looks like this, at the mercy of you and only ever really wanting you since the moment he laid eyes — in ways, it's a job well done, and now he shall receive his prize.

Though, you're not even really sure which one of you is winning, now.

It's difficult to get a feel for metrics just by touch — but thick and plenty long enough come to mind in a way that's far too dizzying to spend too much time thinking about. You give him a few lazy tugs before Jeno pulls up and away from you entirely to hang over the edge of the bed and fish out the most obvious thing from his pants pocket.

"Came prepared," you casually comment, and when he comes back up with the package in hand, he only sighs in relief.

"Not a chance I was going to fuck this up by not thinking ahead," Jeno responds firstly, finally shuffling the fabric at his hips down and revealing the full sight of himself to you. "Though, you'd let me hit without it anyway, I guess."

"Oh my God!" You whine in embarrassment, reaching up to playfully slap his arm as he rolls the condom along himself. "Moment of weakness, I would have come to my senses."

Settling back down lengthwise against your body, Jeno kisses you hard once more as you feel the distinct wrapping around your thigh of an arm that intends to have you fully splayed open for him. Once finished there, the same hand comes between you — dragging the wide, length of his cock through your wetness before even attempting to push inside.

It's similarly torturous to before, however, and your squirming beneath his body is evidence of it enough.

Forearm holding his body weight, Jeno shifts his hand upwards so that he can touch your face as he continues to bring you to madness — soft kisses peppering not only your lips but your jaw, cheeks, and even falling down onto your neck — you can't tell if he's doing it purposefully in hopes that you'll beg, or if he truly has no idea just what it is that he's doing.

You believe it to be the former, though.

Regardless, he's a man worn thin of patience himself, and your requests are not needed to feel the incredibly present stretch of him entering you.

Embarrassingly slick for him and well prepared, you're reminded of the comment he made back the last time you two shared a moment such as this — how he wanted it to be different, right, in some ways, and as the feeling of him pushing to fill you to the brim brings you to nearly dizzying new heights — with fingers gripped into the skin of his back and shoulders and teeth gritted, you can kind of see why.

You don't want to say his cock is perfect, but it's pretty fucking good.

Once fully seated inside of you, Jeno brings that hand back to your thigh to pull it wide and away. Rather than moving right away, he allows you some time to get used to him — no stranger to a big dick, but a wide one certainly tends to take a second each and every time. In the meantime; lips trailing down your neck, sucking and biting into the skin as you try to bite back the whimpers that threaten you already — unfortunately, you're soon to find this man to be no such help in you maintaining your composure.

Stray fingers curled into your hair — not to pull or cause pain, nothing more than simply holding you there — you become starkly aware of how consumed you are by him now, and with hot breath cascading across your ear and cheeks, you're once again faced with that same low, gravely tone of voice from earlier that had you coming nearly undone in the palm of his hand.

"How do you like it?"

Barely coherent enough to register the question, you feel the shiver the words send down your body as a result of it, all the same — as if somewhere in your subconscious well aware of the implications long before your present and aware mind capable.

Before you can answer, however, his voice drops lower and down into a whisper against the shell of your ear. "How do you want me to fuck you?"

Another chill, and with it paired with one shallow drive of himself against you.

"Been dying to feel you cum around my cock, so please," he says, and this time with desperate emphasis coloring the plea at the end.

"Tell me how you want to be fucked."

The shivers subsequently pooling right between your legs and at the very spot where Jeno enters you — you know well enough that he can feel the way your cunt clenches down hard around the thick of him with every pointed, filthy word that drops from his lips. More than that, however, is the way your fingernails dig that much harder into his flesh at the promise of finally receiving precisely what it is that you want from him.

To be fucked stupid, and borderline incoherent.

He doesn't wait for an answer from you before beginning a calm, steady rhythm against you, though. Smart enough to know that regardless of your answer, you both do require friction from this sort of engagement — rather, just like the time before it's the particular way his breath hitches and he softly groans into your ear with every tight, wet hug of your pussy against his thrusts that is quite possibly doing you in more than the actual action itself is.

No matter, though, because your mind is made up.

"Harder," you whimper out for him with hips pushing up to meet his actions. "Fuck me harder, deeper—"

His next drive into you has your entire body moving up the length of the bed, as well as any further words or thoughts lost somewhere in the mix between.

The next shift in positioning is quick, so much so that it has your head spinning ever so slightly as you feel him bring his torso off of your own to prop himself up and over you once more — it's better leverage for harder thrusts, and even more is the capturing of one of your stray wrists in hand just before settling himself in place. Effectively pinned beneath him, there's a brief moment where he stills — flashes you a look to check in and make sure you're not displeased with the new development, because there's always a bit of growing pains in an attempt to take the lead, be sexy, and more than that, not overstep any boundaries.

But really, you know he just wants to do whatever it takes to make you cum as hard as possible, and it's a commendable effort, that much is for sure.

Two, three hard drives into you with your wrist pinned just next to your head and you're all but crying out for him. Figure, that's probably motivation enough.

Jeno continues to fuck you hard, but not especially fast as every drive of his length into you is deliberate, pointed, and angled perfectly to find and continue to rub against that particular spot that has you tensing and shaking beneath him. Watching him from this angle above you; muscles firm and flexed with every calculated thrust, mouth only slightly hung ajar as eyes that now remain nearly glued to the place that the thickness of his cock disappears inside of you with slickened ease — it's hard to imagine that you ever considered not allowing yourself this moment in time, because God, he's going to get precisely what he set out for.

Glancing up from that place, Jeno's eyes meet your own before clenching shut tightly to take in the feeling of you. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good."

He was right, the praise thing is pretty fucking excellent. Might as well pay it back.

Bearing down to meet one of his thrusts, you whine out for him in response. "Feel so good," you start before another hard pound of his hips against your own interrupts the thought. "F—Feel so big."

With that, you feel his hips falter ever so slightly, paired with a light chuckle falling from his lips.

"Don't say that," he says in a laugh. "Talk about how big it is and I'll cum in two second flat."

This knowledge piques your interest, hand that remains unpinned coming up to lightly cradle his face. "That's what does it for you, huh? Like hearing about how big your cock is? How full I feel when—"

"I'm serious!" Jeno then gasps suddenly, stilling his motions between your legs altogether and laughing all the while. "I'm not joking, I will cum right now if you keep it up, no one wants that."

You laugh to match him. "Okay, okay! I didn't realize it was that bad..."

Dipping down again, Jeno kisses you hard and firm on the mouth before pulling back up and delivering a single, hard drive of himself into you. "It's bad, and if I cum before you do I'm going to put my fucking head in the blender, so may I?"

"By all means."

It's out of scene and not a particularly sexy conversation, but it is one that reminds you of all of the things that you seem to adore about the man. Someone who can be everything and at a moments notice: caring, funny, sexy, good in bed, bad in bed should the moment fit — it serves as all the more reason that you're thankful for your making of the decision to go through with this, after all. Not just for the sex, because sex can be found anywhere — but rather, because of this particular moment right here and now, shared with this particular man.

And that, you can't find just anywhere.

Jeno wastes no time settling back into things as he fucks into you hard once again, but also faster than previously. There's something about the new angle that he's settled himself in — a perfect lean of his torso over yours that has the shaft of his cock rubbing perfectly against your clit in such a way that has your body tensing and nerves firing with each and every thrust of himself into your cunt. This time, over the sounds of wet and skin meeting, instead it's you that's heard in particular over everything else — with no way or ability to bring yourself back down from the impending doom of the orgasm that's now threatening to rip through you at a moments notice.

Of course, Jeno notices, and probably feels as much with how tightly wrapped around his cock you are — and if he's close to cumming himself, you can't tell through his composure as his steady hips never once falter through the loud whines and whimpers that fall from you on account of him.

"Close?" He asks, well aware of the way you fall apart beneath him and with no other interest than you get you precisely there.

You nod quickly. "Harder, harder, fuck—"

And you don't have to ask twice as Jeno once again settles into a different position — unpinning your wrist and instead bringing both of his large, strong hands down to clasp onto the dip of your hips for leverage — instead now he holds the ability to not only fuck up into you, but also pull you down onto his cock, and in even quicker, harder succession.

You sort of wish you could have enjoyed the feeling of him like this just a bit more — the full, thick pull of his cock against your walls with every fluid drag of himself against you — but instead, Jeno is only granted a handful more drives of himself into you like this before you're crying out and cumming hard around him in electric pulses and waves of clenches down around his length.

Reduced to nearly whining, Jeno doesn't stop his relentless force into you in chase of his own release now that his job here is done, and rather, you're not quite satisfied with the impending end of this scenario just yet, either.

"Cum, baby," you whisper out to him, and you're certain that you can see the way the pet name all but deep fries his brain in real time with the clench of his facial features upon hearing it. "Want you to cum on me, wanna see it."

Another shockwave to an already far too aroused mans brain, he attempts to shake it off long enough to focus back on the task at hand but shortly thereafter realizes that there isn't much left to focus on. Four or five more hard thrusts into your cunt, Jeno quickly withdraws from you — peeling the condom from his glistening wet length and swiftly palming over himself in quick succession to bring himself the rest of the way there over your messy, exposed pussy and stomach.

But really, you just want to watch him stroke it.

A beautiful sight: a man desperate and on the verge of orgasm, fast at hand to bring himself over the edge, the muscles in Jeno's abdomen tense as he teeters on the edge of release for your viewing pleasure, and as his breaths begin to hitch in his throat only to be replaced by short, pained whimpers, you deliver the killing blow for him.

"So big, cum for me baby—"

Granted, you hadn't planned much of a script in your head past that point, but it would go unneeded anyway as you watch Jeno's fist stutter to a halt halfway down the shaft of his cock before emptying his load atop the already messy pool of wetness gathered at your spread open folds.

And perhaps nothing better than the loud, anguished groan of his release as he slowly finishes stroking himself over your cunt and to completion.

Kinda defeats the purpose of condoms but the two of you will have to take that up with the health clinic another day.

Slumping down and onto his back next to you, both with quickly rising and falling chests in an attempt to breath air that brings something other than the scent of sex, Jeno is the first to lean into you to press a kiss to your temple, just like so many times before.

"Good?" He asks.

You hum coyly before shrugging. "It'll do, I guess."

"Nice, that's what I am for. Have all the ladies in town like 'eh, it was this or reruns of Friends."

Smiling, you inhale deeply with thoughts of this. All of this, and just how nice it is. You wonder briefly if this is a life you could see yourself getting used to — being had and held by the man lying next to you — before the stark reminder of it not even so much as being an option settles in once more.

Short term relationships are valid, and giving — and you couldn't possibly end this one off on a better note.

Take it for what it is.

Waking together in the morning is as nice as the night before, albeit far less involved. Even through the entanglements of limbs and an incredibly pointed lack of clothing on either of you, you're the first to stir with Jeno still lying beside you, although quickly met by the man to have gentle pecks and other such trinkets of adoration bestowed upon you in what is now your final couple of hours left together.

In the shower, there's a moment that you think maybe it can be done after all, and as Jeno stands with toothbrush in hand and mouth full, when you dip your head out to make a mention of the prospect to him, once your eyes meet you can't help but cower back behind the stained glass from which you had come.

Don't ruin this, just let it be.

With bags lazily packed and messily stuffed into the car, the friend groups say their goodbyes at around noon, and with the way that some of them go, you think that you and Jeno far from the only two who consummate their relationship on the final night.

It's sort of sad, in a way, but you suppose you're glad you're not alone in feeling this way.

Turning to face Jeno one, final time — eye smile and freckle that you've grown so fond of — his hands come up to cradle the sides of your face before pulling you into a tender kiss for the final time, his eyes never leaving yours in the pull back even for a second.

Hands dropping to pinky fingers on each hand interlocked as you begin to make your way to the vehicle, you're thankful at least that Jeno have the ability to maintain a strong facade in the aftermath of all of this because frankly, you're not so sure how well you're going to fair once it's all said and done.

There's a pause with arms extended as you open the car door, the link between you and him now stretched nearly as far as it can be held by a mere two fingers — all the while, his gaze never falls from you.

And neither does his smile.

"Safe drive."

Two unreasonably gut-wrenching words.

"We will."

And just like that, you're off.

Arm propped up on the side of the door, the inside of the car is dead silent. You know why. Everyone knows why. No one really wants to talk about it.

Then, your phone buzzes.

Digging it from your bag, you're not entirely sure what to expect, though you're hoping not to find one thing in particular. Instead, you're pleasantly surprised by the name that flashes up on the screen.

Well, suppose that's a bit of an understatement.

Jeno ♡♡ [12:22]: so, what are your plans for winter vacation, anyway?

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2 (probably)

#jeno smut #jeno x reader #jeno x y/n #jeno x you #jeno scenarios #jeno fanfic #jeno imagines #nct smut #nct x you #nct x y/n #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios

1K notes · View notes

going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 23 days

Text

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 28] || [Chapter 30]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ cw: illness, injuries, hurt/comfort, fluff Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: they're very sick... poor babies

Chapter 29: Taking Turns

The next couple of days were rough.

Between:

Kyle unable to bend down or stand straight for too long before his hip protested;

John unable to stretch himself in any direction due to his lower back hurting;

Johnny limping from his knee and with an arm on a sling;

and Simon having… not quite the flu but something? and getting dizziness spells every time he moved…

You haven’t gotten any proper rest either and have been running back and forth trying to help care for all of them.

They try their best to help, really… But the amount of groans, winces, and strained voices you hear whenever Kyle tries to make you all food, John tries to bend down to help with laundry, Simon tries to sweep, or Johnny tries to do anything two-handed… It’s hard.

Your flat suddenly feels too small for them, for you.

Haven’t slept in your bed the whole weekend… But hey, at least you get to cuddle Simon all night every night. He’s like your own heater…

It comes to a head on Monday morning. You’ve gotta get to work… It hurts you to leave them like that, all alone, all day, in the state they’re in.

“So… there’s the spare key-” You handed the spare to John who had tried his best to be up with you for breakfast, leaning himself on the wall by the front door as you talk in hushed tones, Simon sleeping barely a couple feet away on the couch, actually getting rest.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine-”

“John…” You murmured as you looked up at him, your face showing nothing if not a deadpan inquiry. “You’re all dying.”

“We’re not dying. We were but we’re doing so much better after having you dote on us all weekend, darling.” He replied with a playful smile, which was cut through by a little wince that made his blue eyes press shut.

“Right.” You retorted and rolled your eyes. “Because you’ve gotten so much better, huh?” You taunted and shook your head.

“It’s fine… we’ve got… 3 or so functioning pairs of legs, 2 spines, 3 and a half pairs of arms and 3 working heads…” He trailed off, humourously listing the unaffected parts of their ailments.

“Ah yes… And somehow none of you are functional at all.” You teased again, smiling playfully, receiving a sigh and a conceding in the shape of an eye roll from him.

“Anyways,” You told him as you cupped his face. “You get back to bed… And try not to die, all of you. This flat isn’t mine, I don’t think you should die in here.” You added.

“Copy that.” John nodded with a chuckle which drew another wince from him. He kissed your forehead lightly then limped his way back to bed.

You had just gone on your lunch break when you shot the lads a message to check on their state:

you: how r u all doing? 👀

By the time you came back from lunch, you hadn’t gotten a reply to your text… And normally that wouldn’t worry you…

If it weren’t for the fact they’re bunked down in your flat because they’re all injured or sick.

You went back to work with your phone in your pocket, patiently waiting a text from them…

you: pls tell me ur alive

Even with that message, it still took another hour and a half for an answer to come.

You were about to jump ship and go home early by then, when Johnny answered you.

Johnny: souo you: what? Johnny: soup Johnny: [1 Video Attachment]

The video you got was not one you expected.

Firstly, it was a very zoomed in 10 seconds of one of your metal pots with a heeping quantity of chicken noodle soup boiling in it.

Then, the camera panned over to display Kyle, John and Simon sprawled on the couch, head’s dangling back over the edge, snoring away.

“We made soup… bonnie.” Johnny said from behind the camera, his voice groggy and dragging, a consequence of the strong painkillers he had been taking for the last 3 days after his gunshot.

“Gonna have seconds… it’s so good…” He announced in a conspiratory tone and shushed the video before he finished the video.

How they managed to force themselves to stand up and stay awake long enough to cook a whole pot worth of soup, you have no idea.

But, hey, at least they were alive. And that eased your worries.

And so, you got back to work, finishing your work day.

Coming back to work, you were surprised to find the flat in a similar state as when you left, which was surprising considering you expected a mess of dishes and food left for you to clean.

The boys had also moved from the couch and to the bedroom, their snores and heavy breaths coming from down the hall, as well as the sound of the shower running.

You closed the door carefully behind yourself, took off your shoes and padded over to the kitchen with the little shopping bag worth of things you bought after work.

Just as you’re about to start putting things in the fridge and cupboards, a figure show up at the kitchen door, making you jump a bit and huff a breath of surprise.

Turning to look at him, eyes wide and startled, you come face-to-face with a glistening wet Kyle wrapped in your last clean towel. There you go, needing to do more laundry again.

“Hi, Kyle… Didn’t hear you come in.” You admitted with a smile as you looked at him.

“Hey, lovie… How was work?” He murmured as he approached you and kissed you softly on the forehead. He certainly seemed a bit more mobile than yesterday when you put him to bed.

“It was good… I see you boys made yourselves right at home, huh?” You gestured vaguely to the pot of soup on the back of the stove, lidded to keep for later.

“Yeah… John had the idea… Sent Soap to the shops to get the chicken and the carrot and all…” He trailed off as he nuzzled himself against you, an arm wrapped around your waist as he rubbed his nose against the crown of your head.

“I see… He was able to carry everything one handed?” You asked playfully, earning a chuckle from Kyle.

“Surprisingly yes…” He trailed off and smiled as he lowered his head to steal a soft peck from your lips.

“What about cooking? Who did that?” You asked playfully as you returned the kiss, then, slipped away from his arm wrapped around you. You resumed putting things away in the cupboards and fridge.

“We took turns…” Kyle admitted a bit sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “Every 10 minutes we’d switch spots with each other and sit on the couch…” He trailed off and chuckled.

“I see… I can imagine how that went… the four of you lot wobbling back and forth between the kitchen and the sofa… leaning your head on the cupboard because of the pain while you TRIED to shred chicken and stir the soup and all?” You joked.

“It was miserable… But the soup’s really good…” Kyle admitted.

“Yeah, bet it is… Johnny sent me a text about it…” You added with a chuckle. “Now how about you dry yourself up and get dressed before you catch something, hm?”

“Or you could warm me up instead…” Kyle quipped and winked at you.

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

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #141 x reader

816 notes · View notes

awfcspencer · 28 days

Text

Long Live || leah williamson x reader

prompt: The journey of the Euros, Leah's ACL, and then returning.

warnings: mentions of injury, some instances of angst

“I said remember this moment. In the back of my mind. The time we stood with our shaking hands. The crowds in the stands went wild.”

All summer you had watched Leah and her England national teammates endlessly work for this opportunity, a chance to play in a Euro final and hopefully win the Euros on home soil. The tournament had begun swimmingly, solid wins against Austria, Norway, and Northern Ireland, ending the group perfect, with zero goals conceded. It was the perfect triumph heading into quarterfinals with Spain, a worthy competitor that brought a different style of play into the tournament. This would be the first time the England side would be thoroughly tested and you could only hope for the vital win.

The Spain match was certainly the most stressful thus far, it had you pacing back and forth praying to some sort of God to allow a miracle to happen and England to move forward. A goal slotted in the back of the net by Ester González sent you into a full-blown panic, but luckily Ella equalized near the end of regulation time to take the game to extra-time. A danger of a strike from Georgia sealed the 2-1 win for England to send them into the semifinals with Sweden.

Throughout the tournament, you were allotted minimal time with your girlfriend, between training and media duties, you had to rely on text messages and late-night facetime calls for communication. You even kept those to a minimum so that Leah’s main focus could be on leading England to a Euros final, especially because she was captaining the team. You vividly remember the night she had called you to let you know the news and your heart beamed for your lover every time she stepped on the pitch with the armband. The inability to not actually spend nearly enough time with Leah had been unfortunate for you, but you knew what this meant to her and you would do it every day over again if it meant that she could play to her very best. Later on you would find out that Leah had kept a very detailed journal of her days on camp, sharing every single memory and thought with you after the come down of the tournament when she returned home.

You could also tell just how the sport of women’s football was growing at each game, thousands of fans attended the matches, breaking records at each stadium. You even spotted several little girls and boys wearing your girlfriend’s kit, imaging one day your own kids wearing their mother’s number on their back. You swelled with pride at every match, seeing Leah’s passion for the game and her ability to lead her team, she and her team were finally getting the recognition they had worked so hard for and starting a new wave of young women playing football.

The next opponent, Sweden, brought one of the most historic goals with Alessia finding the back of the net with her backheel. A 4-0 win that sent England into the finals to face a powerful Germany team. You were overjoyed with happiness while you spent half the summer supporting your girlfriend at various stadiums across England and her dreams were so close you could taste it. At every single game, Leah would look up at her section and you would meet her with flashing eyes and a dimpled smile, you were always there and Leah loved every minute of it.

“I’m so proud of you baby! Onto the finals!” You congratulated her as she made long strides towards the section where you sat, hugging you desperately close. You mostly kept the interaction brief and short to allow her to visit with the several family members that had continuously showed up to support Leah.

She kept you close though, basking in your presence with an arm laced around your waist as she conversed with the people around you. You also spent some time congratulating different members of the England squad who you had come to know through Leah, ushering them well wishes and good luck’s as they passed by.

The Germany game brought you endless nervousness and stress, you desperately wanted your girlfriend to win, you saw all the hard work her and all her teammates had poured in and you wanted nothing more than them to be rewarding with a historic win. The first half ended goalless as you held close to Amanda, she had been by your side all tournament long and you both knew how desperately bad England and Leah wanted this win. Ella came on as a substitute and gave England the lead 1-0, but not long after, Germany unfortunately equalized, sending the match into extra time tied 1-1.

You hadn’t been able to sit the whole match, anxiously swaying back and forth as you watched. The next goal felt like it happened in slow motion, a corner kick by Lauren that bounced off of Lucy and luckily entered the patch of Chloe who nearly sealed the Euros win with an incredible goal. An all-around effort of time wasting and the final whistle blew, ‘England are European champions’ rang throughout a nearly sold-out Wembley stadium as the crowd erupted in cheers.

You jumped up and down while embracing several of Leah’s various family members into hugs, cheering amongst yourselves as you celebrated. England had done it and you were ecstatic for your girlfriend. Once finished with mandatory media duties and celebrating with her teammates, she made her way towards you.

“You’ve earned this love, Leah Williamson European champion!” You exclaimed with tears in your eyes as the confetti fell. “I am so, so proud of you. I’m speechless right now, just so happy baby. You did it!”

“I couldn’t have done it without your support.” She happily expressed, lifting you up while swinging you around as your fingers threaded through her hair, a wide smile cemented on your faces. You met her lips with a bruising kiss, thinking back to all the lonely nights in bed without your lover, remembering all the sacrifices she had made to make it to this moment made this moment all the more sweeter. Your childhood neighbor turned best friend and then eventually lover from Milton Keynes had led her country to a European championship and you couldn’t be happier.

To this day, watching her raise the trophy with her team had been one of your favorite memories, also the copious amount of partying and celebrating that ensued after the finals into the early hours of the next morning.

“You held your head like a hero.”

April 19th will always be a date forever engrained into your mind. A matchup between Manchester United and Arsenal at Leighs Sports Village where Arsenal looked to avenge a 2-3 loss to the Manchester side at the Emirates in the beginning half of the season, fighting to stay in the top of the WSL standings.

You’d woken up early this matchday, looking at the alarm clock that read a few minutes after 8 A.M. in red numbers. Stretching out your limbs and rolling over to your lover who lied in a deep sleep, her chest rising and falling slowly. She looked peaceful and you decided you would let her rest a little longer, knowing that waking a sleeping Leah too early resulted in a grumpy Leah, and you undeniably knew that Leah would snooze her alarm a few times before actually getting up anyways.

You took the time to properly make Leah a sufficient breakfast that included necessary carbs and protein to fuel the athlete, knowing the defender’s usual ham sandwich pregame meal would not be efficient enough for her to play to her best potential no matter how many times you had told her. You’d checked her kit bag twice to make sure she had everything she needed and even added a little post-it note that told her how much you loved her and wished her a good game, placing it in her left boot so she could find it right before the match.

“Good morning super star, ready for today?” You asked the blonde when she came shuffling into the kitchen a half an hour later, rubbing her tired eyes and still dressed in her pajamas. Meeting her upon her entrance in a warm embrace before you ushered her towards the kitchen table to eat her meal while you finished up making yourself a coffee. Manchester United always gave a valent effort, especially when they played against the Arsenal red, but you had little to no doubt that Leah and her squad could pull out an important win.

“Ready as ever, I feel good,” she told you in between bites. “You’ll be there right? I need my good luck charm in attendance.”

“Of course I will baby, wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You told her as you joined her at the table, a large grin plastered across the defender’s face. “But you really need to hurry, you have to leave in 20 minutes.”

“20 minutes?” the blonde questioned, glancing down at her watch to check the time which indicated she indeed need to put a pep in her step. “Where has the time gone? Thank you for breakfast baby.” Leah said placing her dishes in the sink and meeting you back at the table to pepper soft kisses on the side of your cheek.

“Leah, you hit the snooze button 4 times this morning and have the audacity to be shocked you’re running late? Honestly woman you surprise me every day.” You teased towards her as she ran to get dressed and do in her hair in the bedroom while you finished your breakfast at the table, mindlessly scrolling on your phone.

Several minutes later she waltzed out in the Arsenal sweatsuit combo with her sudoku book in hand and her iPad in the other. She met you at the door where you held her fully packed kit bag up for her as she sent you a thankful smile when you placed the bag on her shoulder. You carefully tucked a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear that had fallen out of her ponytail, secretly chuckling to yourself at the endless hours you told Leah how much she would regret getting a fringe after the photoshoot was over.

“Love you baby, play well today. Score a goal for me, yeah?” You whispered in her ear, throwing your arms around her neck, hugging her close before pulling her in for a passionate kiss, only forcing yourself to separate when you remembered Leah needed to be leaving or she would miss the bus.

Leah opened the door before turning back towards you, “Just one more hug before I leave? Please?” your girlfriend begged and who were you to deny her, pulling her in for another warm, tight embrace.

“Now go Williamson or you’re going to be late.” You told her, practically having to shove the blonde out the door and closing it quickly behind you to avoid her forming some sort of wild excuse for another hug or kiss. You quickly finished up cleaning the last reminiscent of breakfast before getting ready for the match yourself, throwing on your ‘Williamson 6’ kit and getting into your car to drive to the stadium.

------

The stadium was rambunctious, fans filling nearly every inch, excited to watch the next 90 minutes of football between two talented sides. You watched during warmups as Leah carefully scanned the crowd for her section of family and friends, sending her a wave and a smile when your eyes finally met hers as she returned the actions. Soon enough, warmups had ended, and the match was set to begin and you were on the edge of your seat, knees bobbing up and down until the whistle blew. Leah had already sent you a text that she found your little not, accompanying the message with a smile selfie holding the post-it.

Watching Leah play the sport she loved was something you would never take for granted, especially after this game.

It all happened so fast, one second Leah was on her feet and the next, she wasn’t. It was normal for Leah to play aggressively, using her body in ways to excel her game, not wanting to potentially give up anything to the opposition. It was a move she had done countless of times in training and on the pitch, so you expected her to bounce back up quickly and continue on. But she didn’t get up.

Looking down as your girlfriend lay face down on the pitch pounding her hand on the pitch in pain broke your heart in indescribable ways. Each second that passed that Leah did not get up sent a dagger farther and farther into your chest, wanting nothing more than to run onto the pitch and console your girlfriend. You were sure you hadn’t let out a single breath since she went down and it felt like every Arsenal fan, player, and coach also held their breath, they’d seen the injury with Beth, and then with Viv, and now they might have just witnessed another, the dreaded three letter word. The stadium fell eerily silent, everyone unsure of what to say or do next while the medics attended to your wincing lover, and it cut directly right through you.

You found yourself murmuring, “Get up Leah. Please, just get up baby. Please be okay,” as you watched from your seat, heartbroken with shaking legs and red rimmed eyes.

The images of your tear-stained girlfriend limping off the pitch haunted your eyes every time you closed them as you tried to regain your composure throughout the rest of the first half. You wanted to run back towards the changing rooms and demand someone to tell you what was going on, but it would do no good, Leah was with exactly who she needed to be with in this moment but that didn’t necessarily make you feel any better. Sat in the stands you thought about the next leg of the Champion League that she could possibly miss, or the World Cup that was set to happen in the summer, but you forced those thoughts out of your mind, reframing your brain into thinking that Leah would be okay, and it was a minor injury, nothing to worry or fret over. She would be okay, she had to be okay.

An Arsenal staff member had come and found you not long after the halftime whistle blew, he didn’t say much, just a request to follow him. He led you through the underbelly of the stadium and into the physio room where you saw the most gut-wrenching sight. Your girlfriend lied on the cushioned physio table as various trainers examined her knee, her baby blue no longer shed tears and her agonizing demeanor that she showed on the pitch was gone. Instead she lied in a catatonic state while everything happened around her, until she saw you enter.

You step forward towards her, meeting her at her side at the table, still unsure of what the diagnosis was. Your hands interlaced with hers immediately, brushing your thumb back and forth over your lover’s knuckles. She tilted her face to you and uttered the most gut-wrenching letters.

“ACL.” She said monotoned with a tightened jaw and thin lips. You knew she would still need a scan to properly confirm the diagnosis but the instant flash of pain that quickly subsided and the pop of the knee that she described to you after undoubtedly pointed to the tore muscle.

“Oh baby.” Your heart raced wildly. “I’m so sorry.” Releasing a shaky breath that you weren’t aware you were holding in. You don’t really know what to do, you open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out.

“Oh love, I wish I could take away all the pain from you.” You told her in a whispered hush just loud enough for her to hear. They were the only words that felt right in the situation as the trainers around the two of you talked among themselves on how to proceed next.

Leah wanted to leave as soon as the physios allowed her to, you assisted in getting her to your car that you had driven to the stadium while the Arsenal staff collected her belongings and brought them to you. You sent them a quick thanks and drove home as quickly as you could. This was all new uncharted territory, Leah had never been injured for a potential prolonged time like an ACL injury would have her sidelined and not being an athlete yourself, you couldn’t exactly understand what was going on in your lover’s mind.

The days before her scan were hard, Leah still didn’t say much, keeping to herself in your shared bed a majority of the time, but each night when she believed you were asleep, she would cry with sobs that wracked through her body and sent overwhelming pain and hurt through yours.

A doctor’s appointment and an MRI scan that you accompanied Leah to confirmed the dreaded injury. The medical team discussed the next steps to Leah and yourself about surgery and rehab treatments and after what left like hours, you were finally able to take Leah home.

In bed later that night, Leah worked tirelessly trying to type up a statement to say to her social media to let her fans know what was going on, but with each sentence she typed, she would quickly delete it, leaving her with a blank note once again. The two of you hadn’t really talked about the extent of the injury and what it means for the two of you just yet, again, it was all uncharted territory, and you didn’t want to say the wrong thing and make her more upset than she already was. She’d finally come up with the right words she was looking for and sent out the message, promptly closing her phone and setting it on the bedside table after.

You set down the book that you had been reading right before bed and turned to your girlfriend’s sad eyes.

“Oh my sweet, sweet Leah.” You cooed, pulling her into your arms, gently tilting her chin to look into her eyes before saying, “You know you don’t have to do this alone, because I care about you, okay? And I will be here every step of the way.”

“Please, just hold me.” She cried, and that is what you did, clutching onto her body with a strong hold, rubbing circles into her back as she sobbed into your arms until she eventually tired herself out and fell asleep.

“Of all the years that we stood there on the sidelines. Wishing for right now.”

Driving Leah to the hospital on the day of her operation was when the injury really felt real, up to this point the whole situation had felt like a bad dream, hoping to wake up and Leah would be perfectly fine, but that never happened. You tried your best to keep spirits high in the operation room and distract Leah the best you could by remembering to grab her sudoku book before leaving the house and making Leah pose in her oversized hospital gown for a picture. You told her every positive affirmation you could possibly think of as they wheeled her out of the room, clutching her hand until the last very second she wasn’t in reach, and then you waited, waited for what felt like years.

You’d already taken the time to text Beth and Viv separately to discuss in what ways you could best aid Leah during this journey, talking about what worked and what didn’t work. Several of the Arsenal girls had sent their well wishes to you for Leah, knowing by now she was already in surgery, you sent them a quick thank you message and promised to text as soon as she was out. You also already had the house set up to assist in rehab, purchasing the ice machine that Beth had raved about and miscellaneous things that you had bought online after reading about the best rehab techniques for ACL injuries.

Leah’s rehab was filled with the highest highs and the lowest of lows, but nonetheless, you were right by her side through every step, even when she didn’t want you to be. The first few weeks right after surgery were probably the worst part of her rehab and you could tell the toll it was taking on the defender as she would lash out at you over the simplest of things, quickly apologizing after she realized her negative outburst.

Leah had to physically relearn how to walk and relearn how to use the weak muscle and she felt herself doubting her body’s ability to measure up to what she was before the injury. She spent long days at the Arsenal facility, focusing on her rehab to the point where it was all she thought about, every move she made was to increase her ability to get back on the pitch.

You tried to coax Leah into confiding in you for how she was feeling but most nights it turned into an argument where Leah claimed she didn’t want to talk about it and that she was fine. You knew how badly she wanted to just play football, especially when she had to resort to watching the Champions league matches from the couch with her knee propped up with a few pillows.

“You don’t have to be so stoic all the time Leah, crying isn’t a sign of weakness, you know. You can’t just keep it all bottled up. You have to let it all out of you, otherwise you’ll just explode.” You told her as you watched the match, watching as Leah’s lip trembled a bit as she watched what was supposed to be her on the pitch.

“I’ll never be that me again, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. I don’t know who I am anymore without football.” She said, her eyes never left the television but you could tell the tears threatened to fall.

“You’re still you Leah, the same Leah who leads Arsenal’s defense, the same Leah who led England to a European championship, you just have a new ACL love.” Leah curled more into you, placing her head in your lap while you ran your fingers through her blonde hair.

“I am so very in love with you, thank you for everything, I know I haven’t been the best girlfriend recently but you are my everything.”

“Oh Leah, my sweet, sweet Leah, you are nothing but perfect, sure the journey has not been ideal but I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid my eyes on you and an ACL injury doesn’t change anything about how I feel about you. I just need you to let me in, talk to me about what is going on in that pretty little head of yours, okay?” You bent your head down to place a soft kiss on her cheek, and you felt Leah give a small nod in your lap.

Watching the World Cup from your shared home also felt like a punch to heart, knowing that if this injury hadn’t occurred, Leah would be there and you would too. The Australian times meant waking up early, most days you were up before the sun, but Leah woke up every match day and watched as her team continued to win throughout the major tournament. When England made the finals, you knew Leah needed to be there and she knew too, next thing you knew you were on the long flight over. The loss in the finals was hard but there was so much to be proud of and you knew the England girls found comfort in having Leah in attendance.

The second half of Leah’s rehab was much better, especially after the conversation you had as Leah now let you in, told you how she was feeling through every high and low of recovery. Once Leah was able to get back into the gym and very light football trainings, her spirits were lifted dramatically, she was closing in on her return to the pitch.

Throughout recovery, Leah did several media outings, finally getting the time to attend the events and let herself really enjoy having a break from football, trying to look at the positives in the situation. You accompanied her to nearly all the events and took the time to thoroughly enjoy just being a couple, relinquishing in the time allotted allowed to just be with Leah.

“Hold on to spinning around. Confetti falls to the ground. May these memories break our fall.”

With every month that passed since Leah’s injury, you knew she was getting closer and closer to stepping back on the pitch. She had now joined in on full training and was looking very solid. You thought back to all the tribulations Leah had overcame to get to this very moment, all the nights she sobbed in your arms and wished everything had gone down differently, all the days she spent cooped up inside doing her various stretches and rewatching her previous matches.

All of the members of the Arsenal physio staff had worked diligently to get Leah ready to return, they had done well in their efforts when Beth and Viv returned and you were sure they knew when Leah was ready, on account that Leah herself was ready to return.

You sat on the couch after returning home from work, searching through the television channels to find something on that was worthwhile that wasn’t some trashy reality show. A click of your front door and your girlfriend practically ran into the living room, jumping on top of you on the couch, screaming words you couldn’t exactly catch because she was speaking so quickly.

“Lee slow down. What happened?” You asked, pushing the heavy blonde off of you and throwing her to the side of the couch, chucking a small pillow at her as she made a loud huff when you forced her off you.

“It’s happening baby. They said I can come on during the Reading game, most likely in the second half” the blonde exclaimed from the top of her lungs, standing nearly bouncing off the couch with energy.

“This is everything you’ve been working towards baby, all your hard work has paid off. I’m so proud of you baby. You’ve earned this moment.”

You couldn’t help but jump up and down at the news, you were really the only person who was able to see every up and down of Leah’s rehab journey and you had stuck by her side every step of the way.

The League Cup against Reading couldn’t have been better, the Arsenal were up 4-0 when Leah came off the bench in the final half hour to replace Jen. The crowd roared like never before when Leah began warming up and erupted when she was finally subbed on.

To make the moment even sweeter, Leah went on to provide an assist to Beth near the 80th minute to make it 5-0. You held your breath each time she moved on the pitch, the images of her injury replayed in your mind over and over, but each time Leah moved and dribbled around, she proved that she was fit to come back and be an even better player than before. The game ended with a win and you couldn’t help but run towards the pitch as soon as the final whistle blew and Leah found you immediately.

You give in to the magnetic pull between the two of you, wrapping your arms around the back of her waist and pulling her against you, your lips crashing into hers. Your heads twist and tilt and readjust clumsily. You breath hard against her sweaty, salty skin as she drags her fingers down your jaw and off the end of your chin over and over, trying to pull you impossibly closer.

“Oh my Leah, you’ve really outdone yourself. I am so deeply proud of you.” You told her once the two of you separated, wiping the small tears that feel from her eyes.

It was nearly almost an exact year from the date the Leah tore her ACL that she made her return to Wembley for the England squad and you couldn’t be pleased with your lover.

“If you have children someday. When they point to the pictures. Please tell them my name.”

Several years down the road, you were sat with your wife and two daughters at the kitchen table looking over various scrapbooks and photo collections just reminiscing.

“When did mama get hurt?” Your eldest daughter, Emily, asked, pointing to a photo that you had taken of Leah in her oversized hospital gown right before her ACL surgery.

“I hurt my knee in a match and I had to get surgery to fix it.” Your wife told her.

“Was it scary?”

“It was a little bit scary, but I had mommy by my side and all your aunts at Arsenal to help me through it.” She explained, wrapping her arm around your waist and pulling you closer to her chair and giving you a small kiss on the cheek.

“This is the picture when mommy was able to play again. She was out for nearly 9 months.” You told her, shifting the photobook to the next page that had all the pictures you’d taken during the Reading match.

“9 months? That is like a million years.” Your youngest daughter piped in.

“It sort of felt like a million years some days.” Leah said looking down at her watch, “Okay girls, bedtime, remember we have to wake up early for Emily’s match.”

You gave each of your daughters a tight hug and kiss while wishing them a good night’s sleep and making sure to tell Leah no funny business, she had a habit of letting the girl’s convince her into reading more than one bedtime story.

While Leah put the girls to bed, you made sure to pack Emily’s kit bag, packing tiny ham sandwiches cut into triangles into the bag, a habit that your wife instilled in your daughter before each match. When Leah returned to the kitchen, she pulled the post-it notes from the junk drawer and began writing a note to Emily, wishing her good luck and telling her how much the two of you loved her, a habit you had done with Leah before her games.

-----

Kinda hate how this turned out but it is finished nonetheless

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso #woso community #woso soccer

345 notes · View notes