#tiny bit of fluff
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Condemned to Jealousy
Fandom: Star Wars, but where Fives was listened to, Palpatine is gone and the Republic is winning the war once and for all.
Pairing: Fives x Reader, unrequited Crosshair x Reader
Content: Angst and a little bit of fluff.
Warnings: Mentions of blood.
Word Count: 1642
A/N: Mando'a translations are 'mesh'la' = beautiful, and 'ner kar'ta' = my love. I wrote this in an evening so it's rather messy, but I've had this idea on my mind for a couple of days and actually wrote it for once.
When he hears that the 501st are on shore leave too, Crosshair bristles. All he wants is some quality time away from the front lines with you, and now he knows that his chance is squandered. Whilst you had been working with Clone Force 99 since Echo joined, as his personal medic (keeping his biomechanics running smooth, as well as helping with the trauma of Skako Minor), you were previously assigned with the 501st. That meant that you were going to meet up with Troopers that you had once served with and Crosshair would be deprived of your presence. He tried to push down his annoyance at the fact, but the sniper barely lasted an hour pretending to be fine. The grumpiness of his amplified over the days before their shore leave, culminating to the present moment: sitting with his brothers in a booth at 79s, brooding over a glass of whiskey and staring daggers into the table surface.
The music around the bar pulsed with energy, the floor filled with various clones who were moving with the steady beat – either with each other or with a nat-born who’d taken interest. Some clones still wore their plastoid, some wore their blacks, or a mix of the two. Some clones even wore civ clothes, although it was somewhat rare. Most of the colour adorned by the clones here tonight was, of course, blue. Too much blue, Crosshair thought to himself as his eyes shifted over the crowd, looking for you.
It took him a while to find you, for you and those you were currently with were hidden by the throng. By then he saw you; the first glimpse he saw was of you with a wide grin spread across your features, eyes crinkled slightly, laughing at something one of the clones around you said. There are three of them with you, Crosshair identifies. Two of them are bald and tattooed, the other with slicked back hair, a vaguely anchor shaped beard, and a tattoo upon his temple. Crosshair narrowed his eyes to get a better look at the tattoos. Bald Trooper No.1 has blue lines wrapping around his scalp and onto his face; he is dancing near you, shimmying quickly and with no rhythm. The sniper actually recognised Bald Trooper No.2: Jesse. He was on Anaxes and they had a mutual dislike of each other, making Crosshair wrinkle his nose as he observes the close proximity of the clone to you… Even if Jesse is laughing at Bald Trooper No.1 and now seeking to playfully tackle him. However, Crosshair’s distaste at Jesse’s presence quickly diminishes as Bearded Trooper wraps his arm around your shoulders, turning his head to reveal his tattoo in greater detail to Crosshair – an aurbesh five. He knew this clone too, but had met him only briefly after the rescue of Echo, for he was his batch-mate, Fives…
The ARC Trooper with aurbesh tattoo looks down at you, a toothy smirk spreading across his features. His honey hued irises sparkle in the throbbing lights and you realise as your eyes lock that you have missed this man so much.
Before being assigned to the Bad Batch, before the rescue of Echo, you had served with the 501st. You got on with all of them, Rex, Jesse, Tup, Hardcase, Kix, and even Dogma, who was a little hard to like at times. But Fives… On your first day with the legion, and after being introduced to Rex’s squad as their non-combat doctor, Fives had come up to you with that smirk of his and hit you with the cheesiest pick-up line you’d ever heard. Yet, you still blushed. Not because of the line, but because of the one who’d delivered it. From then on, you’d harboured a small crush on the ARC Trooper, who flirted with you any chance he got. He visited your medbay upon the Resolute often – most clones tended to stay away, save for their regular health check-ups, but Fives seemed to like the place more than Kix. It was through these visits that you began to get an inkling that you were not the only with a slight infatuation. It lead to the moment, in the middle of Fives’ routine health check after some time in the front line, where you both ended up acting on those feelings towards each other. From then on, the pair of you had been together, in secret, not because of some rule against clones and nat-borns being together, but due to violating the rules of the workplace. Yet, now that you served with the Bad Batch, not with Fives and the 501st, it was becoming more and more tempting to be not so secret about your relationship.
That is why, as you look into Fives’ eyes, his arm about your shoulders, you decide to raise a hand to loop around to the back of his head, your fingers slipping between his brunet locks. He raises a brow slightly, although as his eyes become hooded it is clear that he is having similar thoughts to yours.
“Mesh’la,” he mutters in his deep baritone, “I don’t want to keep this secret anymore.”
“Fives… Neither do I.”
In that moment, Fives pulls you in for a kiss, his lips encompassing yours softly. In that moment too, you hear the smashing of glass. You break away from Fives, who groans with frustration, yet too looks towards the source of the noise. You both expect it to be nothing much, maybe overly drunk patrons. It’s not nothing, as the table where your current squad sits is now in disarray and a certain member of Clone Force 99 is staring deadly daggers at Fives. The said clone makes an awkward sound in confusion, eyes flicking towards you with a hint of panic within them as he whispers in your ear, “Ner kar’ta, why is he glaring at me?”
You shake your head slightly, partially in disbelief, but also to indicate to Fives that you don’t know. “He’s usually grumpy, but I’ve never seen him like… this. Let me deal with this.”
As you talk with Fives, Crosshair is swiftly stomping over. Before Fives gets a chance to respond to you, a fist lands directly in the side of his nose, causing him to stumble and nearly pull you over with him. You untangle yourself from Fives, seeing red in the corners of your eyes as you turn to face the assailant, Crosshair. He looks enraged. However, your expression gives him a run for his credits.
“Crosshair! What the kriff was that?!” The entirety of the bar has their eyes on you as you shout, many of the 501st in the bar moving to gather around. Jesse and Hardcase, who were with you in the moments before the incident, have stepped in to check on Fives, who is holding his nose that gushes with his own crimson blood. Rex, who was sitting with the Commanders, has stood up and approached slowly, ready to step in to be the mediator, and alongside him is Cody too, the pair ready to work the dynamic duo as always. Kix is currently pushing his way through the crowd towards you as well, seeming to go full combat medic mode at the commotion. The Bad Batch have reacted too, all slightly differently. Wrecker has leapt from his seat, ready to fight. Echo has quickly moved to grab the oversized clone, and Hunter too has stopped his brother from starting a whirlwind of chaos, although seems to be more relaxed about potentially letting Wrecker off the leash if there is good reason to. Tech still sits in the back of the booth, awkwardly looking over his datapad at the situation. All of them wait, however, to see how Crosshair responds.
The silver haired sniper hisses an exhale, before snarling his words, “The reg kissed you!”
In your eyes, it is a pretty poor excuse. “So?!” You call out, your anger bubbling up with the increasing heat.
Crosshair narrows his eyes, taken aback by the question, yet this time he has a better response, spoken quietly this time, his words now laced with venom, “It looks like you’re being taken advantage of…”
If you hadn’t been drinking then maybe you would have said something better, but what comes out of you is spat that the sniper with frustration at his apparent blunder.
“I’m dating Fives, I ain’t being kriffing taken advantage of!”
Crosshair’s expression falls for a moment, a look of abject horror upon his features. Yet it disappears as quickly as it appears. He seems done, done with everything now. Turning around, to head towards the exit of the bar, he growls, “Kriff you…” He leaves then, storming out. Hunter drags Wrecker along with him after their brother, whilst Echo lets go to rush across to you and Fives, whose nose is now clogged up with napkins from the bar to stop the bleeding.
It is as Echo comes towards you and Crosshair steps out the door of the bar that the realisation of what truly happened hits you. All those around you disappear as your entire focus turns to Fives. You rush over towards him, the shouts of the clones about you trying to disperse the crowd falling on deaf ears as you throw yourself against Fives, wrapping your arms around him.
“I’m sorry, Fives-“
“Ssssh, ner kar’ta, not your fault. He was just jealous.” Fives wraps his arms about you, engulfing you in his warmth and comfort, placing a gentle kiss atop the crown of your head.
Meanwhile, Crosshair storms away from 79s and into the night of Coruscant, he realises that he will always be jealous in regard to you. Jealous because you are the one thing he cannot have, for Fives has already claimed you.
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Thanks for reading!
#no beta we die like clones#the clone wars#fanfic#fives x reader#fives x you#arc trooper fives#ct 5555#crosshair#tbb crosshair#kinda crosshair x reader#but not really#crosshair has an unrequited crush and doesn't know how to deal with it#the bad batch#angst#fluff#tiny bit of fluff#star wars fanfiction
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ONLY LOVE CAN HURT LIKE THIS ! — Lee Minho
pairing: bsf!Leeknow x fem!reader
genre: unrequited love, angst, literally straight up sadness
warning(s): mentions of insomnia, mentions of past poor eating habits, hurt, one sided/unrequited love, mentions of vomit, comparing yourself to other people(?). i think i that’s it, let me know if i should add anything else!
You didn’t know what you were expecting when you never confessed to Lee Minho, but it definitely wasn’t that he was going to magically confess to you. He was your best friend, confessing to him would mean risking ruining 12 years of friendship. Sure, you weren’t expecting him to be single but to hide his relationship from you and then announce his engagement was shocking to say the least. Especially since you were hopelessly in love with him.
You first fell for him when you were 15. You were humiliated in front of the whole school by someone who you thought was your friend. Minho rushed to your house and comforted you, spilling reassuring words and affirmations as you sobbed in his arms. His caring nature was something to not overlook. As much as he tried not showing it, he truly did care for the people he was close to.
Yet here you were, 23 years old and still in love with the man you once thought would be yours. But not everyone can have what they do wish for, right?
The night he had announced his engagement, he glanced at you with guilty eyes as your friends glanced at you with pity. They knew you loved Minho. He was the reason you never dated anyone. Minho wasn’t the best person to date in High school. As most people would have described, he kissed a lot of girls. Under the bleachers, at bus stops, at his house. Anywhere really. He was a player. And you were to watch from a distance with a pit in your stomach and tear-filled eyes.
You would sob for days knowing you couldn’t have him. Knowing your place in his life was to be his best friend and nothing more. You were there to witness everything he went through, his achievements, his worst moments, etcetera. You were there when he talked to you about his first time, when he had his first girlfriend, when he broke up with said girlfriend. And all you could do was smile and play the role of the good best friend you were.
So now you were here, at his wedding, standing behind his bride as they exchanged vows. You tried to contain the tears that were threatening to fall. Eyes landing on your dear friend Chan who gave you a sad smile.
You knew it was selfish of you to hope that he would somehow call the wedding off, or that she would, in fact. You knew you had to be happy for him, but you just couldn’t. I mean how could you, seriously? You had been in love with him for 8 years, but you never said it though. You were a coward. You still are one.
As you heard the words “You may now kiss the bride”, that’s when your entire world finally collapsed, and you were finally brought to reality. Lee Minho wasn’t yours and he was never going to be. You stood there with a smile as you clapped, hoping you didn’t look upset at all.
When the party had started, you excused yourself and headed to the restroom. You found an empty stall and crouched down, finally letting the tears you were holding in for hours spill. This time Minho wasn’t there to comfort you like he always would. He was out there with his wife. You were alone, with no comfort whatsoever.
You tried to muffle your sobs, but you were sure it was audible for the people outside the restroom. After what seemed like forever, you walk out of the stall and look in the mirror, noticing how your once perfect makeup was now smudged and your eyes were puffy and bloodshot.
You washed your face, getting rid of the excess of makeup and walked out of the bathroom, body crashing into the one and only LeeKnow.
“Y/N hey! — hey…hey what’s wrong are you okay?” His voice softened as he looked down at you, noticing your puffy eyes. His hands going to cup your cheeks until you backed away.
“Y-Yes, I’m all right. Just feeling a little sick you know. I think I might head home right now.” You noticed the ways his eyes held a sad emotion in them, he sighed and gave you a slight sad smile.
“Hope you feel all better Y/n. I’ll pack you some of the snacks at the table so you can take some home to eat later—”
“No! I- I mean, no, it’s fine. I think if I eat anything I might vomit you know. Anyways I have to go now, congratulations again.”
With that, you quickly left. Not bothering to look back knowing you would burst into tears once again. You go back to the party and grab your bag, bidding goodbye to the bride after explaining you had to go. As you were walking towards the parking lot, you heard your name being called making you stop in your steps and turn around.
Chan.
“Are you okay? Actually, don’t even answer that, obviously you’re not. I’ll take you home.” He states as he places an arm on your lower back, guiding you to his car. You sit on the passenger sit and immediately burst into tears again as Chan closes the door to his car.
“I- It hurts. It hurts so bad Chris!” You sobbed; your body engulfed by Chan as he wraps you in comforting arms. He places his palm on the back of your head and spills reassuring and comforting words. Your mind taking you back to that day LeeKnow comforted you when you were 15, eight years ago. The day you first fell for him.
“Chris, I suffered so much because of him! I- I know it isn’t his fault and I know I’m being selfish right now, but I love him. I always loved him. There were days in the past where I couldn’t get an ounce of sleep for months because of him. All I kept thinking about was him and how I would only be the best friend in his life. I stopped eating little by little because I noticed how he usually went for the girls that were really skinny and slim. I was so hurt Chris. I’m so tired. I want it to stop.” You cried, sore voice cracking in the process.
“Shh, Y/n. Listen to me. Everything is going to be okay; you have me. I’ll be by your side. I know life is kicking your ass right now, but I promise you, you hear me. I promise you everything will be okay in the end. You’ll find someone better, someone who will cherish you and love you. Trust me on it, sweetheart.”
His voice calms you down, your rapid breaths finally slowing down. Your teary eyes looking up at him as you whisper a ‘thank you’, your voice too sore for you to talk.
“No problem, that’s what I’m here for. What I will always be here for.”
#skz#stray kids x reader#tiny bit of fluff#stray kids#skz angst#lee know#skz leeknow#leeknow angst#lee minho angst#lee minho skz#stray kids angst#skz oneshots#leeknow oneshots#sad#straykids angst#leeknow drabble#lee minho drabbles#lee minho x reader#leeknow x reader#lee know x y/n#lee know x you#lee know oneshot#lee know angst#lee know stray kids#unrequited love#kpop#kpop angst#kpop x reader#skz x y/n#lee know x reader
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Call Me Jake Part 2
CW: adult language, PTSD, character using derogatory language towards herself that can be triggering to differently abled people, references to kinky shit
WC: 3226
Tagging: @wildbornsiren @withahappyrefrain @writercole @wombtotombx @fuckyeahhangman @hangmanapologist @sebsxphia @kryptonitejelly @gretagerwigsmuse @callsignhurricane @callsign-phoenix @iguana-braces @lorecraft @chara-hugs @mikkorantanev @andrei-svech @dempy @starshine-hockey-girl @himbos-on-ice @hockeynshit @babeekakes @hockeywocs @trippedmetaldetector @bluecruz97 @blue-aconite @ellabellabus07 @smokey102 @therebeccaw @the-hottest-lieutenants @mayhem24-7forever @marvelousmermaid @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @tallrock35 @shanimallina87 @ratcatcher2world @hoe-on-the-range @assmanselke @hope-love-equality2 @callsign-valley @littlebadariell @atthediscowithoutpanic @seasonsbloom @a-reader-and-a-writer
Jake always knew he was the golden child. It wasn’t necessarily fair but that was how it was. He was the apple of his ma’s eye, pa’s favorite, even his older sisters all adored him. Ma claimed he came out of the womb charming and with a wink that had the nurses all swoon. But Jake’s favorite person was Gramps Seresin.
Gramps had earned a Purple Heart and a Distinguished Flying Cross in World War II. But Gramps always said he did his duty with a twinkle in his eye. Much different than Pa who bragged about how many commies he shot down in Vietnam whenever he got a chance. Jake noticed that Gramps always looked tense when Pa got drinking and started bragging.
“Jake, my boy, war is serious business. Taking life isn’t easy and is nothing to brag about. The most important thing I am proud about is as Commander, my whole team made it home after serving in the Pacific. Duty and Honor, that’s what matters the most, Jake,” Gramps had said while Pa was bragging to his friends.
Even though Jake was cocky, arrogant, and very sure of his skills as he made it through Annapolis, Flight School, SERE, and Top Gun, he kept those words from Gramps in his mind. After going through air strikes in Afghanistan and Iraq, he wouldn’t now, not with Maverick and Rooster still there-
Jake sighed as he sat up in bed, the sheet falling down to his waist. The nightmare was back again. It only happened occasionally now but when it did, it was with a vengeance.
The nightmare was always the same: Admiral Simpson didn’t give the okay, Jake flew off anyway, but he didn’t make it in time. The enemy got Mav and Bradshaw and Jake watched them die before the enemy took advantage of his indecision to take him out too.
Reality was much different but there was always that what if lurking in his mind, ready to torture him at night.
Groaning, Jake got up, opening his blinds. It was a new day and he had a bunch of Fucking New Guys (FNGs) to corral on this shore tour at NAS North Island. For some reason, Cyclone thought he would be a good mentor to some newly winged lieutenant junior grades before they joined their squadrons. Not that he cared; Jake had a plan for his future and stuff like this was part of it as he made his way up to lieutenant commander, commander, to one day being Admiral Seresin, air boss and future Fleet Commander.
Pulling on a pair of shorts, Jake made his way to the bathroom so he could take a leak. Right after he washed his hands, there were several knocks on his door. “Fuck off,” Jake yelled.
“Can’t, you fucking douchebag,” was the answer. Jake shook his head before brushing his teeth, making the person wait. After several minutes, he strolled through his apartment to the front door.
“Bradshaw, as I live and breathe. Why the hell are you at my front door?”
Rooster snickered. “I was checking to see if Dot was here, Hangman. You two got kinda hot and heavy the last several nights.”
Jake gritted his teeth. So, he had put the moves on the only person to beat him at pool at The Hard Deck. She flirted back but in un-Hangman-like fashion, he didn’t seal the deal that night or the other night. “Actually, she’s not here. Why?”
Rooster furrowed his eyebrows, suddenly feeling concerned. “I hadn’t heard from her since Wednesday.”
Jake’s expression went from mocking to concerned. That was about three nights ago. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t talked to her, Rooster, not since she turned me down and got in her car.”
“At least you saw her get in her car. Alright, I gotta go.”
Curious, Jake wanted to know where Rooster was going because he was feeling worried himself. He didn’t even really know the damn woman, he didn’t know why rooster came to his place, but fuck, he cared.
Slamming his door closed, Jake’s ambivalent mood turned sour. Dorothy Kazansky was hot, she had a mouth filthier than the average aviator, and legs that went on forever. Also, every time he flirted with her, the glares from Mav and any other old timers there were worth it. Plus, that ass would look amazing bent over for him to spank and bite.
Brewing himself some coffee with a stove top percolator, Jake went to his fridge to take out breakfast. This week, it was protein overnight oats with chia and flax seeds for breakfast, quick and easy. Grabbing a spoon, Jake took a bite while waiting for his coffee to finish brewing. It seemed like Dot was probably more trouble than she was worth but Jake had enough experience to tell when someone had sub tendencies. Dot definitely had sub tendencies and Jake wasn’t above teasing her to poke at them. Grinning to himself, Jake decided that he would stop flirting with her to get her in bed for now. But the entertainment that came from teasing and flirting with her wasn’t worth giving up, yet.
****
Some nights were better than others. Some days were worse than others.
Dorothy sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes. The past two days had been hell on earth. Her head hurt, her body hurt, but worst was the phantom pain from her right leg.
Dorothy’s right leg shouldn’t hurt, it was a complete prosthetic leg below her knee. But whenever the nightmares about the crash returned, the phantom pain came back with a vengeance. It was so bad, it hurt to move.
The pills were looking at her from her vanity, mocking her. Percs 10, enough to kill the throb, make it go away, but also make her feel like a zombie. It would make all the pain go away, including the grief for Dad, her career, everything. It had been two years since Dad passed away but whenever the pain was this bad, Dorothy felt fresh new waves of grief. The last time she saw Dad, she was at NMCSD after being transferred from Walter Reed. Dad saw his only daughter crippled in her bed, right leg gone under her knee.
Dad had written her letters and sent her texts, telling his Dot that she was going to be fine. But Dorothy didn’t feel fine, she felt horrible and she was ready to leave home again. Then an image of a sun kissed man with sea green eyes filled her mind and Dorothy cursed, “Fuck.”
Hangman Seresin was going to be a fucking problem.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”
Dorothy was out of water too. Grumbling, she finally got herself out of bed. Unfortunately, water was a necessity. Grabbing a bottle of water, Dorothy chugged it before grabbing an energy bar. Biting it, she dropped it as she heard footsteps outside her room. They were faint but getting stronger and Dorothy thought of her options as she clocked her potential weapons next to the bed. Then the door was flung open and Rooster came in.
“Good, you’re alive.”
Dot pulled a hand over her face as Rooster flicked on the light. “What the fuck, Bradley?”
Rooster moved quickly to Dorothy, pulling her in his arms for a quick hug before letting her go. Then he pulled the chair from her vanity and sat down. Dorothy sat back on her bed and looked at Bradley expectantly.
“You went incommunicado for long enough that we got worried. Be happy it’s me and not Mav or your mom.”
Dorothy bit back what she was going to say. Rooster was right; she didn’t want her mom or uncle Mav to see her like this. Instead she watched as Rooster grabbed a bottle of water and one of the pill bottles on her vanity table. Then he came over to her bed and sat on it. “Here Dot, it’s a Perc 5. You need it, I can see how much you’re in pain, princess.”
“Fuck you,” Dorothy grumbled as she took the pill and the water from Rooster. Swallowing the pill, she downed half of the bottle of water as well.
Dorothy felt a sense of shame as she fell back against her pillows. Before the crash, she had her life together, as an Air Force officer and with the help of Kevin. Now, she was a hot mess and if Kevin was here, he would be completely disappointed in her. So disappointed that the punishment would be straight up punishment, not funishment.
“You know, Dot, you’re miserable. You gotta stop beating yourself up and making yourself miserable for what happened,” Rooster started.
“That’s easy for you to say—”
“Dorothy, Kevin left me a letter that explained somethings that went on between you two that he told me to open a year after he passed.”
Rooster felt extremely weirded out; Dot was basically family, like a little cousin. The letter from Kevin basically said that he and Dot were in a consensual dom/sub relationship and that if Dot was still spiraling a year after he passed, Rooster should encourage Dot to join a kink community and possibly find someone to replace Kevin.
Rooster really had no idea what it all meant but given how Dot was starting to withdraw more often, he decided it was time to say something.
Staring at the ceiling, Dorothy bit her lip. “Kevin did tell me in his last letter to me, that I had a year to mourn before he would start to get me together.”
Bitterly laughing, Dorothy turned her head to look at Rooster. He wouldn’t understand, none of them really did; the only people she told were her parents. Kevin was a fellow officer; they had met the first time Dorothy was sent to Afghanistan. Within a week, they knew they were meant for each other. After a year, they went from a vanilla relationship to a BDSM one with power exchange. It was bedroom/home only but it gave the reckless Dorothy the structure she loved and gave Kevin someone to take care of. Then the crash happened and Dorothy was honorably discharged from the Air Force.
Kevin stayed in the Air Force but he got shot while on leave. Exactly thirteen months ago today, he passed away. Dorothy looked at the date on her watch and she sucked in a breath.
Rooster gave Dorothy a hug. “Remember, we are here for you, Dot.”
****
If you had asked Jake a week ago if he would have enjoyed dealing with a bunch of FNGs, he would have laughed in your face.
Becoming an instructor at a Fleet Replacement Squadron (FRS) during this shore duty hadn’t been part of his plans. Jake was still assigned to VFA-151 but on loan to the Dagger Squadron out of San Diego. But they had just finished their latest classified mission and most of the other members had rejoined their previous squadrons. So far, it was just Jake, Rooster, Omaha, Payback, and Halo still left.
VFA-151 was not up for deployment for at least another year and Jake was in no rush to go back to Lemoore. So getting his flight hours with boys who were set to go to VFA-154 and 192 was worth it for him. Now, the workday was over and he was headed to market because his ma had raised a man who could get himself his own groceries. Then he was going to something called a munch.
Jake hadn’t even planned to mention anything about looking for something more permanent to Coyote. He was Hangman; women were never an issue. Shit, the boys in Lemoore were glad he was still in San Diego. Better chances for all of them. But it had come up while Coyote came over for beers before flying back to Oceana.
”So, do you think you’d have a problem if I got back with Phoenix,” Coyote asked while staring out into the San Diego night.
Hangman snorted. So he had messed around with Phoenix a couple of times and so had Coyote. It hadn’t taken long for Hangman to realize that two dominant people like him and Phoenix couldn’t coexist in anything outside of a platonic relationship. Part of him was surprised that Coyote was talking about getting back with Phoenix but Hangman wasn’t going to judge. “No issue at all. She’s not my type either.”
“Please tell me you’re not saying she’s hot-“
“Phoenix is a smokeshow but I like my women submissive and willing to do whatever I want them to do.”
“Ohhhhhhhh.”
There had been a companionable silence before Coyote finally said, “You know, Hangman, you can try something like a munch to meet someone willing to do that for you. That’s how I ran into Phoenix.”
“Oh wow… okay, I had questions but they are now answered, Yote. But what is this?”
Now, Jake was headed to one later, in civilian mode. DADT had been repealed but this was still something he had to be very careful about. But if it was a bunch of bronies and neckbeards, Jake was going to leave immediately and take all of Coyote’s money at pool for the next year.
After changing into a black tee, some jeans, and flip flops, Jake got into his truck and made his way there. It actually wasn’t bad; there were a couple of neckbeards but it was mostly people his age who lived in the area. There were a couple of people Jake knew from base but they all politely ignored each other. It was easy as Jake used his middle name, Chandler; easy to remember but still not his first name or call sign.
However, Jake found his composure shaken when Dorothy walked in. She wasn’t new to this as a bunch of people yelled hi.
“Ohhh, you need to meet Snow White,” the woman to Jake’s left said. He already forgot her name but she had sweet brown eyes. “Snow White hasn’t been around in a while but I have a feeling you two are in similar fields.”
Jake wasn’t paying attention as he watched Dorothy greet everyone else. She hadn’t even realized he was there until the woman called, “Hello Snow White! Over here!”
Dorothy turned around, her eyes blinking in surprise as she recognized Jake. But the woman bounded up to her and gave her a hug. Jake slowly smirked as he realized that Dorothy was Snow White. This night was definitely looking up.
****
Rooster had told Dorothy to tell him no details when she told him she was going out to a kink community event but she felt like he would want to know how this happened. Hangman was sitting next to her and she wanted to snuggle into his heat. But then, Rooster would probably want to haul her back into the house.
Uncle Mav had told her that Hangman got around when he found out that she had been flirting with him. Her mom had helpfully said that Hangman was a younger version of Mav which had made everyone laugh at Sunday dinner last week. Dorothy was far from a virgin but she had needs and she didn’t think the cocky asshole could meet them. Then tonight happened and she was thrown for a loop. She had found Hangman very attractive that first time she played pool with him, but now, she wouldn’t say no if he asked if he could come over.
The munch was coming to a close and Dorothy reluctantly stood up. It felt good to be out and about again but the real world was calling. “It’s good to see everyone again,” she called out as she got ready to give out hugs.
“Snow White, wait for me,” Jake drawled. The slight Texas drawl to his voice definitely had an affect on some of the other people there, to Dorothy’s annoyance. But she just nodded as she finished giving hugs and saying goodbyes.
After finishing, Dorothy turned to Jake, motioning for him to follow her outside. Once outside and over by her car, Dorothy sighed. “You’re the last person I thought I would see here, Hangman.”
“I’d say the same except everyone knows you. But I’m new to this.”
Playing with her keys, Dorothy paused for a second. “New to this?”
“New to actually coming out in public. But to this… no. Just the longest I’ve been stateside.”
Jake closed his mouth as he realized he was starting to ramble. Steeling himself, he moved closer to Dorothy to where they were close but not touching. “Not going to press you but the last time we were at the Hard Deck, you said you’d think about letting me take you out. I know it was a joke but I want you to honestly think about it.”
“Why should I think about it,” Dorothy questioned as she put her hands between herself and Hangman. His cologne smelled so good and the whole vibes, this was so fucking different than pool at a Navy bar. Maybe it was pheromones from something else, something unexplained going on. But Dorothy looked up into Jake’s eyes and those green eyes were like emerald fire.
“I may not have done anything in public before but I can tell there is a good girl inside you looking for someone to tell her what she needs to do.”
Jake brushed a hand over Dorothy’s hair before leaning closer. “When you’re ready, you know where you can find me.”
Straightening up, Jake smirked as Dorothy took in several deep breaths. “Whatever,” she finally muttered before she opened her driver’s side door.
“Get home safe,” Jake instructed before Dorothy gave him the finger. Chuckling to himself, he made his way to his Ford F-150.
****
A week passed since the last time he saw Dorothy. Hangman from a couple of weeks ago would have cut his losses. Jake, however, was willing to wait a bit longer. According to Rooster, Dorothy had VA appointments and other shit that was just a bit more important than him. But Jake was very close to becoming impatient. Then the doors to The Hard Deck opened and it was Dorothy in a pair of sinfully tight blue jeans and a pink tee shirt. Licking his lips, Jake put a toothpick in his mouth as he watched Dorothy make her way over to him.
“Hi darlin’.”
Dorothy rolled her eyes as Hangman checked her out. He looked absolutely delicious in his summer whites, a marked difference from the usual service khakis they wore. Then he stood in front of her, sunglasses hooked on his shirt, pool cue in hand. “Missed you yesterday.”
“I had something more important to do than hangout here,” Dorothy teased. It was true, she had her therapy appointment and it had gone well.
Jake smirked, his green eyes twinkling. “Something more important than me? Sugar, you just hurt my feelins’”
“So dramatic, Hangman. Anyway, I thought about your offer.”
“Ohhh?”
It was just one word but there was a lot of meaning in it. Dorothy bit her lip, noticing how Hangman’s eyes followed her action. Moving closer to him, she whispered in his ear, “Pick me up Saturday at 6 and you’ll know my full answer.”
#hangman top gun#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#jake seresin x oc#hangman x oc#jake hangman seresin x oc#ptsd#living with ptsd#top gun maverick#top gun maverick fic#top gun fics#hangman x kazansky oc#jake seresin x kazansky oc#future kink#future smut#future filthy smut#tiny bit of fluff
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Eddie's at a party, lunch box in tow, and he's making a fucking killing.
He sets up shop in the crowded kitchen, but that doesn't stop him from spotting King Steve in the living room. Harrington's face is still fucked up from the fight with Hargrove, and he's tipping a cup almost vertically into his mouth. He's not too surprised when--the next time he spots the jock--he has a can of beer in each fist.
More customers flood up to him, and he can't help but be a little grateful for the distraction. Harrington is one unrequited crush he just can't kick.
Lunch box cleaned out, Eddie heads outside for a smoke. He's fishing his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket when he hears a snuffling sort of shuffle that sends his heart racing.
He edges forward, just enough to make out the heap of a person half-heartedly sitting up against the house. A person in fitted blue jeans, tight polo, and Member's Only jacket; swoop of chestnut hair catching in the flash of fire from Eddie's Zippo.
"Harrington?"
The guy startles, stability wavering, eyes blinking too much. "Munson?"
"You alright, man?" He asks, though he can already tell that Steve is most definitely not.
Steve shrugs. "Why do you care?" It's not mean, sounds genuinely curious.
Eddie gets it. He has no reason on earth to show concern about King Steve. In answer, he taps his boot against Steve's sneaker, giving him a small smile. "Not sure. But I'm here, so..."
"Just needed some air. Clear my head."
"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asks.
"One or two,"
"Dozen?"
Steve laughs. "You're funny. Has anyone ever told you that?"
"I've heard," Eddie says, can't help but laugh a little too. "Wanna talk about what's going on?"
Eddie thinks that'll be a "no," but then: "Nancy dumped me."
"Yeah, big news."
"Ugh, people are talking about it?" Steve whines. It's really cute and Eddie hates himself for noticing. Hates himself more when Steve loses his balance, tips onto Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie doesn't tip him back.
Eddie can tell that Steve isn't fully with him anymore. He's a little afraid to leave the guy alone, so Eddie talks about the latest Hellfire campaign. Sober Steve Harrington probably has no idea what dnd is, but the drunk version is kind of a rapt audience.
He's just explaining about owlbears when Steve's voice, soft and sad, says "I just want someone to love me, you know?"
The admission renders Eddie speechless for a second, his chest fucking aching for the jock. He says "Oh, Stevie," knows he sounds too sad, is sure of it when Steve's nose wrinkles (it's cute; it's so fucking cute. Eddie hates himself for noticing).
Before he can backtrack, Steve slumps over, body going limp as he passes out. "Jesus H Christ," Eddie barks.
With a heavy sigh, and way too much fondness, Eddie stands. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."
He gathers Harrington up in his arms--dude is heavy--and carries him around to his van.
---
Steve wakes up, head throbbing and tongue fuzzy, with no idea how he got home and into bed. Can't really recall anything after he stumbled outside, aside from talking to Eddie Munson. But maybe that was a dream? Either way, he's home, not really any worse for wear. It's enough to let him forget all about it; what's one drunken party in a life full of them?
That Wednesday, he opens his locker after the final bell, and a Hershey bar falls out. He picks it up, flipping it over to see a note on the foil wrapping, "thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up." It's not signed, and Steve slips it into his backpack, knowing he's got a silly smile on his handsome face.
The little gifts continue to show up once or twice a week. Candy, plastic vending machine toys, sketches of the school grounds, caricatures of classmates and teachers. Sometimes they even come with a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize.
Along with the little treats, he starts seeing Eddie Munson kind of everywhere. And it's not like Steve hadn't seen him before--guy was hard to miss--but he was never around this often. Wasn't around this often and he and Steve had never shared a smile, a quick bob of the head, a quiet hello.
It isn't long before they're talking. Nothing much, nothing serious. Complaining about teachers, about classmates; sharing weekend plans. Only now Steve can't pretend to not notice the way Eddie dimples up when he smiles, the subtle muscles that bunch under the sleeves of his Hellfire Club shirt, the long litheness of his legs. Steve knows he's attracted to other guys, it's just that he didn't realize he'd be attracted to Eddie.
The gifts keep coming. Once, he opens his locker to find a plastic ring fashioned into a golden crown and a note that says, "made me think of you, Stevie." There's something about the "Stevie" that catches deep in his brain, but he can't make it connect to anything.
A few months later, Steve opens his locker and pulls out a drawing. This one--it's of him. He's gazing out into space in a way that managers to be dreamy and wistful. The Steve in the drawing is lovely, and it makes something clench deep in his gut, that someone sees him like this.
Steve tries to be more aware of the people in his surroundings, to figure out who his admirer is. He's not very good at it, even as more sketches of him--all depicting him as a gorgeous, ethereal thing he definitely isn't--show up in his locker. Especially when, so often these days, the person he sees the most is Eddie.
---
The presents in his locker continue into April, and would probably last until the end of the school year, but Steve's got a migraine starting. He keeps aspirin in his locker, gets a hall pass out of English to get some.
When he reaches his locker, though, someone is already there, with the door open. Someone in ripped black jeans, heavy black boots, a black leather jacket, and patch covered denim vest.
"Munson?" He asks. His heart beats so hard it reverberates in his ears, making it hard to hear.
Eddie jumps back, hands fluttering, face flushing bright red. "Ste--Harrington! I--uh--," he's backing up, his hands held out from his body, like he's pushing Steve away even though they aren't touching.
"Were you--?" Steve tries to ask, but the words won't quite come. There's familiar warmth low in his stomach, a twisting that has nothing to do with his impending migraine.
"I wasn't doing anything, I swear," Eddie says. He's breathing hard, eyes too bright, and Steve thinks he might be about to cry, but then the metalhead is turning away, starting to run.
"Eddie, wait!" Steve calls, chasing after him without much thought. "Please!"
Eddie doesn't stop until after they've crashed out one of the side exits, are alone outside.
"It was you? Leaving the--?"
Eddie nods, presses his hands to his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Harrington. I just--"
"Don't be sorry," Steve begs. "It's been--I liked it."
"Even now that you know they're coming from the freak?" Eddie spits. He still hides his face behind his hands.
"It's sort of been the best part of my year, if I'm being honest."
Only now does the metalhead remove his hands, blink back at Steve, dark eyes wide with shock. "Really?"
"Yeah. It made me feel-- important, I guess? Like, maybe someone saw me as something more than King Steve."
Eddie smiles now, looks down at the pavement. "I just didn't want you to think that you weren't--" he stops then, presses his mouth tight.
"Didn't want me to think what?"
"That you weren't loved, Stevie."
The statement hangs between them, Eddie's face pinking again, as the words wrap their way around Steve's heart. Loved. That he's loved. It clenches at every part of him, and he surrounds himself with the truth of it, what all those little presents were saying without words.
"Eddie, I--" he's overwhelmed by the gesture, the meaning, the reciprocal buzz in his chest, because Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson, loves him, and this fact is turning Steve's world on it's head in the best way.
"I'm sorry, Steve, really. Please don't hate me, or--or--"
"It means so much to me," Steve says, his voice a little broken. He reaches a hand out, slow, telegraphing the movement. "Can I?" He whispers.
Eddie nods, and Steve strokes the skin of his face with his thumb. "Thank you."
The metalhead nods, leaning into Steve's touch, they shift close, until their foreheads meet, until they share the same air. They stand that way for a while, long enough that they hear the bell ringing, and only then does Steve break their quiet. "Eds?"
"Yeah, Stevie?"
"You wanna hangout some time?"
Eddie laughs. "Yeah. I really, really do, sweetheart."
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#ficlet#one shot#secret admirer#fluff#a tiny bit of angst#friends to lovers#feelings realization#feelings confession#pining eddie munson#oblivious steve harrington#mutual crushes#high school au#eddie is in love with steve
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hello!! i haven't posted in a few days because i'm working on a bit of a project :) but i hope this is able to sate you
i tried to make the cat look as fluffy as possible hehehe
#i've undergone a bit of a style change!! you may have noticed#it's very minor#and i'll continue to draw in a more pixelated style in the future#but i wanted to make this shit look EXTRA soft >:)#g/t#giant/tiny#borrowers#fluff#g/t fluff#g/t art#cat#ocs#oc: mags#cat...#cat...MATTRESS#he needed an upgrade from the bunny#which i plan to redraw with color#i had to edit these tags like three times i kept forgetting things
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congratulations to @nightgoodomens for making me write the first ficlet of the year! this is so schmoopy and soft it almost makes me want to turn it super angsty instead—but i didn't, so enjoy the happiness while it lasts. inspired by this post.
you can also find it on ao3!
-
"Amazing how they came up with this all on their own, isn't it?"
Crowley leans back and stretches his neck as far as it will go, losing himself not in the noise but the spaces between sparks, the stars no one can see but are there living and shining nevertheless.
They find themselves on a different rooftop every year, always close enough to see it all but far enough away to create their own bubble of shared joy. His coat is hanging open, the cold, smoke-saturated air rushing past him, and when he closes his eyes just for a second, he can pretend the fireworks exploding above him are galaxies being born; his creations, still right where he put them after all this time.
Next to him, Aziraphale hums quietly, knowing all too well that Crowley is not expecting a response—nor would he hear it if he were to give him one. Instead, he keeps his gaze on his face, tracing the lines of his profile as he carefully pulls off his gloves, finger by finger, before stuffing them into his pocket. He remembers, oh, he remembers, the innocent love he saw flowing through him back then, before time, before earth, before Mother became God became the Almighty.
Before all they loved was lost, one way or another. Then again, while defying all possible odds, they managed to find it once more, not just in each other but in humanity.
Another explosion showers them with sparks that will never reach their skin, and a bright shout of joy follows right after, Crowley's eyes impossibly wide.
"Beautiful," he whispers, and Aziraphale cannot stop himself from tentatively pressing their palms together.
Absently yet with deeply ingrained care, Crowley intertwines their hands, pulling him closer to point at a spot in the sky, and there is smoke on his lips and warmth in their bodies—the same heat, given freely, shared.
"If you go that way, do you know where you'll land?"
Shuffling towards him until he can rest his chin on Crowley's shoulder, he carefully lifts their joined hands to brush a kiss over his knuckles, still watching him, carving out a spot for his fire-lit face in his memory.
"Alpha Centauri," he replies softly, leaving another, almost imperceptible kiss on his cheek.
"Alpha Centauri," Crowley confirms, leaning their heads together, and for a while, the world is everything he ever wanted it to be.
#alex writes good omens#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#good omens season 2#go2#aziracrow#crowley x aziraphale#ineffable husbands#ineffable wives#ineffable spouses#happy new year#to more writing and ineffable idiots#fluff. too much fluff. makes my skin itch#tiny tiny bit of angst because otherwise i would have exploded on the spot
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hii! i just saw the mha men as girl dads thing and it was so cute😭😭🥹
could i request the same concept except maybe they’ve returned from patrol very late at night and saw their little baby asleep (or awake, take your pick✨) at the front door waiting for them?
thank you 🩷
SYNOPSIS. returning to find their child waiting for them.
TAGS. dabi, tamaki, mirio x reader, established relationship, fluff, mentions of blood, burns and scars.
NOTES. hello hello! i’m so glad you enjoyed it 😭 your request made my heart flutter and i really enjoyed writing this (baby fever was seriously activated) <3
dabi:
— He’s drenched in rainwater, another’s blood and decorated with a couple of new slashes. None too deep, but still ones to be cautious of. He steps through the front door with a groan, and considering it’s 3am, he’s surprised to find the hallway light still on. When he hears a soft snore, his heart skips a beat and he tenses, only to glance over at the bottom of the stairs to find his three-year-old son dozed off.
— Dabi takes a moment to process the preciousness of the moment, the stinging from his scars barely felt amongst the warmth in his chest. He smiles faintly, a very subtle expression, kicks his boots off on the doormat and picks the boy up. “You idiot. You know I don’t come home until late,” Dabi mumbles, huffing out a sigh. He could’ve caught a cold like this, or have a sore neck from his sleeping position.
— “You’re here,” you whisper from the top of the stairs. Dabi’s gaze is quick to find your face, admiring your disheveled hair, tired eyes and sleep attire. “He insisted he’d welcome his Dad home from his mission. He’s been down there all night,” you chuckle softly, heart fluttering when Dabi ascends the stairs and presses a kiss to your neck, wrapping his free arm around you. You take note of the blood on his arm and give him a look of annoyance, one he knows to acknowledge by heading into the bathroom for you to patch him up.
tamaki:
— It’s almost midnight when Tamaki comes home. The second he walks in, he's quick to lock the door behind him carefully. He’s panting from exertion but evidently calmer now that he's home, carefully pulling his shoes off just as he hears a small, sleepy whine. He looks over to the coat rack by the door to find his two-year-old daughter sleeping under it. However, from the sound of the door locking, she’s already starting to flutter her eyes open.
— “Papa!” she gasps once her vision focuses. She scrambles to her feet, almost tripping as she dashes towards him and jumps into his embrace. He’s quick to catch her and hold her tight with a small gasp, hesitant from all the blood on his hero suit. “Hey, what are you doing up so late?” he whispers, patting her back. “Where’s mama?” His daughter goes into a long rant about how you're already asleep and how she's been waiting for over three hours, sitting by the door with her snacks beside her.
— Tamaki lets out a breathy laugh, ruffling her hair. "Determined to welcome me?" She nods frantically. "Well now that you have, I think we need to get you to bed." But by the time he says that, she's already asleep, head resting on his chest and her sleepy whines starting up again. Tamaki smiles contently, rubbing her back as he walks up the stairs, into your room and places his daughter down to sleep before getting ready for bed himself.
mirio:
— It's not too late when Mirio returns, about 10PM, but he's still careful when locking the door and pulling his shoes off. He makes his way into the kitchen to wash his hands, only to see you and his daughter sat at the dining table, anxious expressions painting your faces (or however anxious of an expression a five-month-old can muster). The moment he steps foot into the kitchen, you notice him, holding your daughter in your embrace as you speed-walk towards him.
— "Oh my God, love, are you alright? Who's blood is that?" Your brow is furrowed as your run your hands along his chest, his abdomen, and up to his neck. Mirio tenses at the intimate contact, flushing a light pink, but he quickly assures you that "I'm a-okay, sweetie. This blood isn't mine, some low-level villain got in my way last minute, so this is just the result," he laughs softly. His daughter squeals and coos, reaching for her father. Mirio wipes the blood off his chest before snatching her into his arms and spinning her around, their giggles filling the air.
— She starts to tug on and play with his cape, wrapping it around herself in an attempt to play hide-and-seek. Mirio indulges her and, while she's in his arms, starts running around in a mocking attempt of trying to look for her. You exhale at the sight, relief filling your chest to see his usual demeanour. Your daughter refused to sleep until she saw the beaming face of her father, and now that she had, she still didn't seem like she was going to sleep any time soon.
#changed mirio's one up a bit because mirio with a tiny baby is absolutely adorable#tamaki amajiki x reader#mirio togata x reader#dabi x reader#mha#bnha#mha x reader#bnha x reader#bnha headcanons#mha headcanons#mha scenarios#bnha scenarios#bnha fic#mha fic#my hero academia#mha fluff#bnha fluff
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HII ROOOOO
It's been so long since I've sent as ask oh em gee :3
Anyways
Beating levi in a game he really didn't expect you to win at and him being all pouty but perks up when you give him pity kisses<3
HIII SUGAR!! omg It has been awhile- I hope you’re doing good <333
Awwww that’s so cute-
Levi pouted, his cheeks turning a bright red as he turns away from you, "You cheated!" he knows you didn’t- couldn’t have but how did you beat him???
"I did not!" you retorted, biting your lip so you don’t laugh at him. He does this everytime you win a game- it’s basically another game now. "C’mon, stop being a sore loser and cheer up…” you pause for a second, “I can make it up to you~”
You lean over, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. you can hear him gasp and see Levi’s whole body stiffen as he turns to face you and you kiss him on his lips.
You feel Levi huff against your lips before he slowly leans into the kiss, soon enough, he’s deepening the kiss his forked tongue tangling with yours <3
After breaking the kiss, you looked into his eyes, a mischievous glint in yours, "better now?" you ask with a grin.
Levi swallows hard and nods, “B-better…..but I think I deserve another kiss!” he says it in a rush and this time you do laugh, grabbing your controller again and tossing Levi his “Beat me at a game first!” “Huh?!? Oh you’re on!” he’ll do anything for another kiss after all-
#tiny bit different but my brain ram with silly lil idea jsjsjsj#:)#obey me!#obey me levi x reader#obey me leviathan#obey me leviathan x reader#obey me fluff#obey me levi fluff#x reader#levi x reader#om!#obey me#om! leviathan#om! levi x reader#om! x reader#roro writes
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Scent
(fluffy supercorp ficlet, post-6)
She… she had done nothing wrong. Catholic guilt is a bitch.
Those were the thoughts in Lena’s head as she wandered down the hallway to Kara’s apartment - cookies in hand, freshly showered, ready for a movie night that would no doubt result in the two women cuddling in bed together as they fell asleep, Lena agonizing over what could never happen with her straight best friend.
Things felt so settled now, so final. Oddly calm after Lex and Nyxly had been dragged to the phantom zone. Kara and Lena had worked so hard to repair their friendship - and with each step closer they took, the pain in Lena’s chest would flare, the desire to want something more and knowing she could never have it.
Her friendship had rebuilt with Andrea, too. It took practice, learning to forgive, learning to see the fears and circumstances that can drive one to do unforgivable things. But it only felt right, to learn to give others grace, for all the grace her friends had given her.
She didn’t expect to fall into bed with Andrea that morning. It felt like an apology, an absolution. It felt like a way to calm her desperate body down before she went to see Kara. And in the aftermath, it had been clear to both Lena and Andrea that this wasn’t a flame that could be rekindled. But there was kindness and there was friendship, and there was a tranquility as Lena approached Kara’s door.
The knob turned when Lena was three steps away, Kara opening the door with her characteristic smile, clearly having picked up on Lena’s heartbeat or footsteps with her superhearing. It made something warm and fuzzy bubble up in Lena’s chest, how eager Kara was to see her.
“Hey!” Kara said cheerfully, as Lena stepped inside, Kara’s arms going around Lena’s shoulders in a hug, Lena grabbing tightly in return as Kara continued, “So I was thinking we could watch Labyrinth? It’s classic, Davie Bowie and puppets-”
And then Kara froze.
Lena frowned in confusion, stepping back as their hug suddenly finished, Kara’s eyes darting between Lena’s with a shocked expression, a hint of red rising in her cheeks.
“Darling? Are you okay?”
“Y-yeah,” Kara said, shaking off her sudden nerves like a dog. “Uh. Movie?” Kara said, her demeanor almost back to normal.
Lena smiled - confused, but sufficiently soothed. “Labyrinth sounds fine.”
So they popped some popcorn, unpacked the cookies Lena brought, and took their seats on the couch for the movies to begin. But… something was off, Kara somehow tucked to the opposite side, only their feet lightly touching instead of the usual cuddling up against each other, arms wrapped around or someone’s head on someone’s thigh.
Lena looked up as the movie played, missing the warmth, wondering where the familiarity had suddenly gone. Kara’s eyes were on the screen, but it seemed her mind was wondering, and Lena was itching to know why.
Lena turned back to the TV, letting the movie play, her mind searching. Kara had seemed totally normal in the Tower the previous day, when they had decided on a movie night. And normal when she opened the door, even. Until they hugged…
Oh.
Lena could feel the tempo of her heart increase, as she mulled the possibilities. Superstrength, yes. But also superhearing. Supervision…
Fuck.
“Lena?” Kara asked, her eyes - now concerned - on the brunette, no doubt due to Lena’s racing heartbeat. “Are you okay?”
Lena leaned forward, grabbing the remote and pausing the movie, before leaning back again.
“You… you have superscent?” Lena asked, eyes firmly on the coffee table rather than Kara’s face. But she didn’t need to look to know that Kara’s eyes were widening.
“I, um…”
“Even…” Lena swallowed. “Even after I showered…”
“It’s barely there, Lena,” Kara said softly. “And it’s not my business.”
The gentleness in Kara’s voice finally gave Lena the bravery to look up. “I- I don’t have to spend the night, Kara,” Lena whispered.
Kara’s eyes widened. “No! No, Lena, it’s not- it doesn’t bother me-”
“It does,” Lena said simply. “That- that’s okay, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable-”
“I’m not uncomfortable!”
“You’re all the way across the couch,” Lena said dryly.
Kara’s shoulders fell, in seeming realization - that in her pensive state, she hadn’t been as physically affectionate as usual, she had pulled back instead - “Oh Rao, Lena, that’s not what I meant.”
Lena bit at her lip, looking down, swallowing hard in an effort to remain composed. I should go home.
“It’s just, I thought you were straight, and…”
“I get it, Kara.”
“And I’m jealous.”
Lena blinked, looking back up, to a Kara whose face was red with embarrassment but whose eyes were clear with resolve. Kara had long ago promised to stop hiding things, as uncomfortable as it may be, and Lena knew how hard Kara was fighting against her instincts. “There is nothing wrong with you,” Kara said vehemently. “I just need to get my feelings for you under control. That’s all.”
Feelings for me? Lena blinked again. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Kara asked, confused.
“Don’t get your feelings under control.”
Kara’s brow crunched, confusion, before shifting into the slightest tinge of hope. “But you’re with-”
“I’m not. And we were both very clear on that. I’m not with her. It was a goodbye more than anything.”
“Oh,” Kara said, her eyes widening, the hope turning into the barest hint of a smile. “Really?”
“Really,” Lena said firmly.
Kara shifted a bit on the couch. “I-” She looked down on her knees, thoughtful. “I’m going to ask you out tomorrow. Properly. With flowers and everything.”
Lena grinned. “I’m going to say yes.”
Kara glanced up, smiling back. “Movie?”
“Of course.”
Lena pressed play again, the two falling into their normal habits - Kara’s head ending up in Lena’s lap, as Lena combed her fingers through her hair, before they eventually ended up in bed, for their very last platonic sleepover.
#not working on my multichap or my one shot but a secret third thing (this ficlet)#supercorp#supercorp fanfic#tiny bit of rojascorp but it doesn't last#supercorp ficlet#fluff#mel writes ficlets
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Steve had always loved daisies.
A small patch of daisies had always grown just beyond the fenceline of his backyard. Protected and untouched from the clean-cut yard the Harringtons had. Steve loved to stick them in his hair, loved that when his hair was a bit longer he could fit whole bunches of them in.
The girls at school showed him how to weave them into flower crowns. He'd sit in a circle with them giggling as they wove the flowers together before dancing around the flowers in the field. One day Steve had come home with a crown still in his hair. His father made sure he learnt that daisies were for girls, he didn't go to the girls circle after that. Now Steve's crown was made of thorns and hollow popularity.
Eddie had always loved sunflowers.
His mum would keep a big vase of them on the windowsill. Big and yellow and bright, a beacon of love through the gloom of Eddie's childhood home. His mother would take him to the sunflower field every weekend to pick new ones. She showed him how to roast the seeds to eat and helped him find sunflowers bigger than him.
When she died, Eddie visited the sunflower field as often as he could, picking flowers to bring to her grave. The day Wayne took him in was the last day he left her some. There were no sunflower fields in Hawkins.
Those young boys were older now.
Together they sat in a field down the hill from where Dustin was calling Suzie. Eddie's head laid in Steve's lap, softly dozing as his boyfriend ran his finger through his curls. After awhile he realised Steve had stopped and so he looked up at him, blinking at the sunlight. Steve's face was punched in concentration as he finished weaving together the pile of daises he'd picked from around them.
"What've you got there, Stevie?"
"I made you a flower crown," Steve said smiling softly as he placed the crown on Eddie's head.
"I'm King of the Flowers, don't think I'll be beating those gay allegations anytime soon, sweetheart."
Steve giggled and smiled down at Eddie as he began to play with his hair again. Turns out Eddie was wrong, there was one sunflower in Hawkins, and he was the prettiest one of all.
#some fluff to make up for last night#like a bug hug for everyone ive made sob over my last post#stranger things#steve harrington#stranger things s4#eddie munson#st4#steddie#stranger things season 4#theres a tiny bit of angst#just bc steddies bio parents are shit#fluff#ficlet#flowers
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A Treasured Friend I Alicent Hightower x Reader
Smuffy Christmas, December 3rd I Masterlist
For @eyelinerandcigarettes Thank you for sending in a request Fae, you're amazing and I'm still fangirling over the fact that you read my little fics 🩷
Prompt: Brushing a strand of hair away & Nipple play
Summary: Queen Alicent’s closest companion offers her an evening of relaxation to escape the pressures of court
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, AFAB reader, slight angst (canon-typical homophobic sentiments and misogyny), kissing, longing, petting, nipple play, secret relationship
Word Count: 1400
---
“Do you ever find yourself reminiscing about those days? When things were easier? Happier?”
The Queen’s amber eyes search yours for a glint of recognition; for confirmation that you long for those days as well.
She appears exhausted after a day filled with countless obligations, the weight of the Seven Kingdoms heavy on her delicate shoulders.
You remember the time she speaks of as if it was mere moments ago.
It was summer. You spent your days going for long walks in the gardens, arms locked together and giggles escaping your lips unhindered. Sharing secrets, drinking tea while sitting on plush cushions laid out on the grass, feeding each other cake until your bellies were about to burst.
Taking any chance the Seven granted you to touch her. Hold her hands in comfort as she spoke of her dreams for the future; speculating about her future with you as her only audience. Allowing her to revel in the comfort you provided her. Free from the shackles of duty, speaking only from the heart.
It was hard to not regard her with fondness back then. As it is now. Every time you lay eyes on your Queen, your heart seems to skip a beat, making you chest tighten in anxious enchantment.
She truly is marvellous.
A treasured friend.
You’d been close ever since you first arrived in King’s Landing, dragged to the capital by the chains of duty. The union with your husband was announced shortly after his second wife perished in the birthing bed, prompting you to leave girlhood behind and follow him as he was called to the capital.
Though melancholy had consumed you as you packed up to leave the only home you’d ever known, meeting the future Queen, Alicent Hightower, proved to be nothing less than a gift from the Gods, granting you a companion on foreign soil.
The familiarity the two of you quickly adopted was to be expected, for girls often found solace in each other's company. The touches you shared, the fleeting kisses you placed on each other’s cheeks were merely a display of the close kinship shared. Nothing more. You were still girls, and girls could indulge in intimate touches with each other.
As a token of your friendship, of course.
Years have passed since your first encounter. Now you are both married women; mothers even.
“Days like those will come again, your grace”, you assure her with a gentle smile. “Days filled with fulfilment, when our only worries depend on whether or not we will be able to walk back to our chambers after enjoying too much cake”.
She smiles at your jest, though you sense her reaction is more of a display of kindness than one of true amusement.
---
You lay the last cushions out before the hearth in the Queens chambers, admiring the work you’ve spent the better part of the evening perfecting.
You’ve prepared a picnic almost identical to those you shared in the gardens in the hot summer climate. Only now, you throw the cushions in front of the hearth in the Queen’s chambers, opting for hot tea instead of the chilled kind you’d enjoyed under the scorching sun.
It may not be the luscious greenery of the summertime gardens surrounding you, but it will do.
The heat from the fire warms you face, the tea in the pot next to you emitting steam from the thin spout pointed toward the ceiling. You’ve changed into your chemise, determined to spend an evening in utmost comfort.
Determined to show your close companion how much she means to you.
The heavy door of the Queen’s chambers opens with a creak, alerting you of her arrival.
She looks tearful as she takes in the scenery, the same solemn expression she often wears. Though this time, her glassy eyes do not make your stomach churn in compassion. The smile that breaks out on her face tells you she’s content.
“What is all this?”, she breathes, voice barely above a whisper.
“A chance to reminisce”, you reply, clearly pleased with the success of your scheme.
She moves in hurried steps, swiftly taking a seat next to you.
As you pour her a cup of steaming tea, you ask her about her day. She asks you about yours. Your conversation slowly turns more heated as you share each detail of your lives with each other.
You discuss life at court, upcoming noble events, motherhood. Though you grace on the topic of husbands, you quickly change the subject, neither of you desire to dwell on your spouses longer than necessary.
The better part of your days are filled with dutiful thoughts of them.
Eventually, your excitement falters, conversation turning hushed as you speak of things only the two of you may indulge in.
Of what could have been.
When one shiny auburn curl of your Queen's hair falls to hide her face, obstructing your admiration of her beauty, your hand flies up to tuck it behind her ear on pure instinct.
Leaving said hand there to cup her cheek is wholly intensional, though.
Alicent’s eyes regard yours intensely as she leans into your touch.
A silent question of whether you’d like to continue.
The hand still on her cheek provides the answer.
She leans closer, soft, plush lips making contact with yours in a sweet, chaste kiss.
‘Tis how it always begins.
Far from how it ends.
You deepen the kiss, moving closer to Alicent’s softness. Your tongues soon intertwine, finding a gentle rhythm as you explore heartfelt intimacy together.
As your tongues grow bolder, so do your touches. The Queen's hands seem restless, caressing your thighs, hips, and waist in hurried strokes. The pleasure you secretly indulged in always felt different from the one thrust upon you by your husband. It was gentler.
Kinder.
A type of closeness reserved simply for the two of you.
Alicent’s hands move up your stomach, making the butterflies in your stomach sprint in spiralling wingbeats.
Your fingers briefly leave her softness to untie the strings at the top of your chemise, shaky hands pushing the fabric down to reveal your bosom, hoping that your Queen will grant you the feel of her skin directly upon yours.
She knows your desire as well as you know hers, lips leaving yours to travel down towards your exposed chest.
Her hands move to grab at the sides of your exposed chest, fingers gliding over the soft skin.
You sigh in content, relaxing as your body moves down to lay on top of the abundance of cushions you’d prepared.
Alicent lets her tongue taste your skin, lovingly capturing your soft flesh between her teeth. The intimate touch sends sparks of bliss through your body; you feel intoxicated with want as your eyes flicker down to observe the Queen as she offers you pleasure.
Her face moves to the side, the softness of her cheek making contact with your heaving bosom. You wish to keep her there forever.
Your back arches as one delicate finger moves to experimentally circle the outer line of the peaks of your breasts. You bite your lip to prevent a pleasured sigh from escaping.
Would it be too indulgent?
Alicent seems displeased with your restraint, moving to gently grace her teeth over the nipple of your right breast.
You push your body against her mouth, sighing loudly as bliss takes over your being. To your delight, your queen indulges your neediness, lips closing around you. As she suckles your flesh, you move your hand to her head, threading her auburn locks between your fingers.
This closeness feels more fulfilling, more intimate than anything else in your dutiful life. Something purely for the two of you to enjoy.
Your eyes close in pleasure as the Queen continues to suck and lick at your nipple, her hands still restlessly roaming across your body. Your eyes open when you feel her slightly pull away, looking up at you with dark eyes, spit-covered lips glistening in the candlelight illuminating her apartments.
“You are my closest confidant, my lady”, she whispers against your skin. You detect her shy smile despite the heaviness of your eyelids.
“Let me appreciate you”, she commands, lips again finding your breast.
‘Tis how it always begins.
Simply closeness between two women.
Closer than most.
---
A/N: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a comment or reblog 😘 I was heavily inspired by historical accounts of women "just being friends" and "sharing a close bond" whenever they were intimate with other women. I really enjoyed writing this piece, thank you again for requesting it, Fae!
#this is a tiny bit late due to brainrot pls forgive me#alicent hightower x reader#alicent hightower smut#alicent hightower fluff#alicent hightower fanfic#alicent hightower angst#alicent hightower x oc#alicent hightower x you
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happy birthday, @withacapitalp! i hope im not that late! i am so glad to be your friend and i am glad you were born. ily! long islands on me! 🥂🍾💗
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There’s this damn spring festival in Indianapolis. It’s pretty popular among young-ins and people from small towns come to visit it every year. There are local vendors, activities, mini concerts. It’s where Eddie thrives the most, he has gone every year since he can remember.
His first mistake was mentioning it to Dustin. The second was agreeing to his insistent pleading if he could come with Eddie to Indy.
Because after Eddie finally said yes. The news— unsurprisingly— reaches El, and wherever El goes, Will goes, and of course, wherever Will goes Mike goes. Then Max hears and also wants in and of course, Lucas also wants to go. So now, it’s the whole damn party. Of course, he can’t handle all the kids. So now, all the adult kids are coming too.
And listen, he thinks they’re all great. But he’s been wanting to get out of Hawkins and away from them to just— breathe. Also, that’s a lie. Eddie doesn’t want to get away from them. He specifically wants to get away from Steve fucking Harrington and all the confusing feelings he have for the very straight man.
Of course, that doesn’t work out.
Because now they're stuck in the middle of a crowd. Eddie has never really understood why people said they felt like a sardine in a can, but right now, he fully understands. He should have known it was going to be busy. It was a Saturday and it’s one of the biggest festivals in town.
He will never say it, but Eddie thanks Steve’s very strong maternal instinct. He can worry for himself right now, because he knows the kids are together due to the very strict buddy system Steve instituted. Now they just have to get to the damn corn dog stand, which Steve declared as their meet up place.
“Eddie.” Eddie whips his head to see Steve staring intently at him. Oh yeah, Steve’s his buddy. “We have to get out of here.”
Eddie nods faintly but doesn’t answer. He has to keep his breathing in check. They’re fine, and the kids are fine. There’s a crowd but they're not after the kids. They're not after Eddie. They’re not after him. It's not an angry mob. Not after him for killing Chrissy. Not—
“Eds.” Steve pushes against the people to get to him. His brown eyes track his face before he sighs in worry, “Hold my hand.”
“What?” Eddie croaks out in disbelief.
Steve looks around, before whispering, "Baby, I think you're one step away from a panic attack. It's too fucking crowded."
And before Eddie can say anything else, Steve captures his hand into his. He doesn't intertwine them together because they're still in public and though they're in the city, it's always good to be safe. But Steve still holds Eddie's hand so tightly, like he's afraid that Eddie's going to vanish from his sight.
"Don't let go, okay?" Steve asks, which is ridiculous, and crazy. Because now that Eddie's holding his hand, clasped together like two ends of the same parenthesis, he doesn't think he could ever let go.
Eddie nods, and Steve pulls him in front of him, shielding him with his arms so people won't bump into him. It weirdly feels like a hug. If he has to describe it, he will say it feels exactly like the moment Wayne hugged him after he came out to him. It's safety, warmth, and overwhelming love and protection.
Steve maneuvers around the crowd like a pro. He dodges people without hitting them and takes them out of the fucking crowd in the middle of the market.
Before he knows it, they're out of the crowd and sitting on a bench. His breathing is finally getting better, but Steve still hasn't let go of his hand. Not when he bought Eddie a drink, not when he instructed Eddie to breathe with him, not when the kids came and asked what was wrong, only to be shooed away.
Eddie's not sure why he's so shaken to the core by this certain touch. He's always been the touchy-feely one. He throws an arm on Steve's shoulders, pats his head when Steve does something ridiculously adorable, and nudges him by the ribs when he says something funny. Steve's never initiated touch, Robin says it's because of the "complete lack of love and care from his parents."
But Steve's right here. Squatting in front of him. Holding his hand as he waits for Eddie to calm down. Looking at him like he— loves him. How could Steve ever be the product of lack of love and care, when he seems to have an abundance of it?
"You doing better, Eds?" Steve asks, his eyes are bright against the lights. He's looking at Eddie like Eddie's something to be cared for, to be loved, like he's something precious.
Eddie wants Steve to look at him like this. Selfishly, he wants to have it for the rest of his fucking life.
Eddie blinks at him, and accidentally, intentionally, stupidly, spits out, "I think I am in love with you."
Steve freezes. He blinks at him.
The world behind them slows down. There's a kid winning a prize a few stalls down, and a man bargaining for a vase on the other end. Someone's order is ready at the food stand and someone just won the bingo. There's a band playing and they're fucking playing Whitesnake's Is This Love.
It's one of those simple, but beautiful moments. Those that make you feel like you're nothing but a small particle in this big, vast world. Eddie basks in those moments sometimes.
However, at that moment, Eddie doesn't. If Steve looks at him like that for the rest of his life, Eddie doesn't think he'll ever feel small again.
He lets the world fade into a quiet noise. Nothing else matters. Nothing, but Steve Harrington.
He just stares at Steve. He just stares as Steve's face breaks into the biggest smile he has ever seen and it quite literally feels like watching a sunflower grow right in front of him. It's a smile that overflows, from the way he beams at him, from the way his eyes wrinkle, the way his nose crinkles.
Eddie's never seen Steve smile this big before and its damn beautiful.
"You sure about that?" Steve asks. There's insecurity in it, but also hope.
Eddie's never been this sure about anything else in his life, so he says, "Yes."
Steve softens, "Alright. That's good."
"How is that good?" Eddie whispers.
"Because, I—" Steve turns over their hands on his lap, and finally— finally— intertwines them. And shit, maybe there is a God, because this feels sacred, a love made just for the two of them.
"Because, I think I am also in love with you."
"I wish I can kiss you here," Eddie says, making Steve laugh, and it spills out of his body so beautifully Eddie wants to keep doing it for the rest of his life.
"Slow down, cowboy," Steve giggles, but the way he tightens his hold on Eddie's hand tells the opposite of his statement.
"Steve! Eddie! Look at this!" Dustin screams from the nearby booth, where El just won him a teddy bear.
"Yeah, you have to come. El's not doing anything. It's just pure talent!" Lucas sarcastically shrieks back.
In the background, El's giggling like crazy. Which 100% means she's using her magic. Eddie can't help but smile at the kids. He's glad he bought them with him to have fun.
Steve immediately stands up at that, their hands breaking apart at the motion.
"Oh God. I told her not to use her powers." Steve's about to rush to them— maternal instincts and whatnot— before he stops in his tracks and turns to Eddie.
Steve softens, holding out his hand to Eddie. Eddie takes it without hesitation.
"Don't let go?" Steve asks.
Eddie stares at him, before he whispers a vow just for the two of them, "I won't. I promise."
True to his word, he doesn't let go. Not ever.
Eddie has no intention of ever letting Steve go.
#this might actually be the most romantic ficlet i have written#i want what they have#please god ive seen what youve done for others#tw panic attack#just a tiny bit#im emotional#steddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steve harrington x eddie munson fluff#steddie ficlet#steddie headcanons#steddie hc#dae writes#daeheadcanons
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our baby sister ; asl
↻ fluff, overprotective sabo, luffy being luffy, comedy (??), grammatical errors
↻ pairing ↬ asl x (platonic) fem!reader! x sanji
@br34ky0ursp1n3 asked: Hello! So I was wondering if you could make a modern au fic with the classic asl brothers! Could it ofc be with a fem!reader as the youngest of the four and they're all at a restaurant, a waiter about reader's age starts flirting with reader right in front of her brothers?? Thank you and have a wonderful day! 😋
a/n this was sitting in my draft for so long. im really sorry for procrastinating :( making sanji the waiter bcs its fun.
“hmm... what do you think? should we take her out to celebrate?” ace asked sabo. the blond thought for a moment. “i mean...” he hesitates. “we should!” luffy suddenly chimed in. “she’s done amazing on her tests! but she probably should have done better than me,” luffy added quietly on the last part.
sabo and ace quickly punched luffy’s head. “as if you’re any better!” ace scolded. “you know better that i did better,” ace suddenly added. and he gets a beating from sabo. “no, the two of you did worse. seriously?! how could you two failed all of the subjects except for p.e class?!” sabo scolded them, crossing his arms together.
suddenly, you barged in through the door, squealing as you held your test results. “i. got. straight. a’s!” you screamed, shoving the paper in front of your brothers’ faces. ace and luffy only watched with their mouth wide open while sabo looked at you proudly.
“we’re taking you out to celebrate,” sabo announced, smiling widely at you.
.
“can you believe it?! i still have a good laugh thinking about that story!” ace slapped the table while laughing loudly. “i swear the look on luffy's face when grandpa caught him skipping class!”
you and sabo laugh along. “but you got caught too!” luffy quickly added. this makes ace’s face to go red with embarrassment. “and your face was deffinitely funnier!” luffy laughed loudly this time. ace’s laughter already died down the moment luffy mentioned his involvement.
you take a sip of your drink while smiling at your brothers. the waiter finally arrives with your food. “here’s one special drink for a beautiful lady,” the man smiled at you. “oh, you’ve got it wrong. we didn’t order this,” you denied the drink politely.
“is there any other beautiful lady here?” the blond smirked. “it’s on the house,” he added. “sanji? what are you doing here?” luffy asked, tilting his head in confusion. sabo was fuming with anger. he cleared his throat loudly and glared at sanji. “yeah, what are you doing here, sanji?” sabo said in a low, threatening voice.
“i work here, of course!” sanji revealed proudly. “i thought that my attire was obvious enough,” he added quietly. “anyway, i hope you guys enjoy dinner. especially you, beautiful,” sanji said, kissing your hand before taking his leave.
you flinched when sabo suddenly slammed the table. “the audacity of him to be touching our baby sister!” ace and luffy only shrugged and continued eating their meals. “sabo, relax. he was just being nice,” you chuckled. “he was clearly flirting with you!”
this caused your two other brothers to gasp. “he was flirting with y/n?!” they said in union. ensue to your brothers bickering that the four of you got kicked out of the restaurant for being too loud.
#luffy x reader#ace x reader#sabo x reader#asl x reader#ASL brothers#asl fluff#portgas d ace#SABO#ace#tiny bit of sanji x reader#fluff#one piece#one piece fanfiction#one piece fluff#one piece oneshot
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Read Part One here
cw: implied child abuse
Eddie's coming over for coffee. Not Eddie with Nancy and Robin or Eddie with the kids. Just Eddie.
They haven't been alone in 9 years and now Eddie is coming over for coffee.
They're friends, of course. After Vecna they didn't have much of a choice, but they've never talked about it--that they used to be something.
After Steve kissed Eddie goodbye for what turned out to be the last time, they didn't see each other again for months and months, except for a devastatingly fleeting moment in the Family Video parking lot. And the next time after that, Eddie's pinning him to the wall of a rickety boathouse, a broken bottle to his throat.
What's going through his mind, his body, at that moment is relief. For days, weeks, months, he ached for Eddie's touch again, and even though he was in danger, he relished in the push of their bodies together. Thought, if this is how he dies, he won't mind going.
But they don't talk about it, about them, because Eddie is on the run and Max is going to die, and they have to save the world, so there's no time. In the aftermath, it's the least of their worries, and now it's been almost a decade and Eddie is coming over for coffee.
The thing is, it's not like Steve has been pining away for a love long lost in the intervening years, and neither has Eddie. They've both had longterm, serious relationships; Steve almost got married. But for Steve...Eddie is the one that's lingered, the one that knocks around his ribcage on late sleepless nights, the one that makes him dream of what might have been. Because Steve truly loved his other partners, but Eddie--nobody will ever compare.
Someone is knocking a rhythm at his front door, and he can't stifle his smile even as his heart runs riot in his chest.
"Hey, man," he says, remarkably nonchalant as he takes Eddie in. Still beautiful, still brimming with energy; his smile wide and dimpled, bouncing on his toes.
"Harrington!" Eddie grabs him into a quick side hug, slapping his back. "Since when do you wear glasses?"
Steve chuckles, touching the horn-rimmed frames. "Oh, god, Robin forced me to get them back in '87? Too many concussions." He touches his forehead. "I usually just wear contacts."
"It's a good look," Eddie says. He's very much not looking at Steve, eyes roaming around the Chicago apartment he's been to many times before.
He watches as Eddie spots the display of his own books, index finger slowly slipping across the spines in a way that makes Steve remember when those same fingers would slide down his spine. He stifles a shiver, turns towards the kitchen.
"So, how's New York? How's the book coming?"
"Livin' the dream." It's not flippant, not like how most people mean it. Eddie leaks genuineness, always has. "The book though...it's a little rough."
Steve sets the coffee maker going, brings fresh pastries and a couple plates over to the table. "I can imagine. It doesn't--it doesn't have to be the same, you know?"
"Yeah, if only I hadn't written three other books leading up to the evil mind wizard," Eddie chuckles. He grabs a croissant and tears it in half. "It'll be alright, Harrington. I'll figure it out. I lived through it the first time, after all."
Steve doesn't remind him that he almost didn't, that they almost didn't. Instead, he pours coffee, listens as Eddie talks about how to fictionalize the worst month of their collective lives.
He splashes milk into Eddie's coffee, taps in three scoops of sugar. He carries it to where Eddie waits, still talking about the logistics of Vecna-slash-Henry-slash-One in his novel, but his words abruptly stop as his hands wrap around the porcelain.
"Steve?"
It's only then that Steve realizes what he's done--made Eddie's coffee like he took it back then, made it without thinking, totally on muscle memory, when the best of his mornings were spent in Eddie's arms.
His cheeks glow crimson and he grips at the back of his neck. "S-sorry." He says. "It--is this still how you take it?"
"Yeah." Eddie's eyes fall from Steve's face, his own cheeks pink. "It's--yeah. Still the same."
"I'm sorry--"
"--Steve, I--"
They don't laugh. They both stop speaking and look at each other, faces still red. Steve thinks there's nothing for it but to get it all out now.
"I'm sorry, Eddie." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I never came back. I'm sorry I didn't explain why. I'm just--really, really sorry."
Eddie's eyes are hooked on the table top, fingers twisting and twisting his coffee mug. "Can I--why? I waited and you--why?"
Steve swallows, but it gets stuck in his throat, and now he's the one who can't look up from his hands.
"My parents got home early," he manages. "My dad, he was waiting for me. I guess one of the neighbors thought it best to tell them who I'd been spending my time with."
Silence falls over the table, and he chances a look up at the man across from him, the one whose knuckles bite into his lips, whose eyes shine with unshed tears.
"You should've called me. You should've--you could've stayed with us. We would've kept you safe."
"Eddie, I couldn't. I physically couldn't," the admission costs him so much.
"Steve," Eddie chokes on his name, voice nothing but anguish. "Did anyone--You could've--you were all alone."
He shakes his head. "Robin knew. She snuck through my window to take care of me, but my parents--I couldn't--" This time the words really won't come. "We made a plan. We started that job at Family Video, and we saved up our money."
Now, Eddie's face is creased with grief. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."
Steve shakes his head, smiles despite the wreckage around his heart. "You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. I left you with no explanation. I broke your heart. And--and--" He thinks, what does it hurt to say it at this point. "I love you. I love you so much. I convinced myself you were better off without me, that we could have a clean break and you could get over me."
Eddie's hands cover his face, muffle the sob that slips out. "Get over you?" He whispers. "There's never been one like you, sweetheart."
He slides around the table to kneel at Eddie's side. "Hey." Deep brown eyes stare back at him, Eddie's face wet with tears. "It's always you, Ed. Always. I didn't want to say anything, if you had moved on, but--"
There's not really any transition from them talking to them kissing; Steve slips into it like he did all those years ago, when he first asked for Eddie's kiss. Their mouths slot together, their bodies fit like they always used to, perfect puzzle pieces. Steve's knees give out at the first brush of Eddie's tongue, and they collapse into a heap on the kitchen floor. Even then, they don't part.
Eventually, Steve does break the embrace, face flushed and hair a disaster, glasses hanging off one ear. "Okay, trying to be responsible here. Should we take a pause, go on a date first? Slow down?"
"Nine years isn't slow enough?" Eddie's pupils are blown, hair frizzed around his head.
"When you put it that way," Steve can't help but laugh. "I just want to do right by you, Eddie. Make up for--everything."
Eddie grins down at him, that sunshine beam smile where his dimples pop. "Tell you what, how bout you take me to bed now, and I'll let you take me on a date tomorrow?"
"Oh, you'll let me?" Steve rakes a hand through Eddie's mane of hair. "I don't think you'll have any choice."
"You sure about that, Stevie?" Their lips are so close, the brush with every word.
"Uh-huh," Steve's having trouble keeping his eyes focused, overwhelmed by the sheer force of Eddie Munson. "Never letting you go again, Ed."
Surprise! Part 2! I genuinely had no intention on doing a follow-up, but so many of you asked so nicely that it gave me this idea. Sorry if I miss anyone in the tag list and thank you for reading! @everywherenothere @tiny-enthusiast @emma-elsa-0000 @fuzzyduxk @moonythepluviophile @anaibis @rhapsodyinalto @bunk12bear @tillystealeaves @velocitytimes2 @s-trawberryv-eins @marklee-blackmore @ignoremyworld @its-a-me-a-morgan @goodolefashionedloverboi @starman-jpg @djohawke @adaydreamaway08
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#getting back together#mutual pining#fluff#ficlet#part 2#time jump#a tiny bit of angst#here's the happy ending#implied child abuse#part one was august i guess part two is the one#we were something don't you think so#and if my wishes came true it would've been you#jk eddie is the one#they're in love your honor#steve's parents are pieces of shit
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Welcome to Chapter 1 of the TAoLaW "dramatic" reading
What can I say, the theatre kid in me needed to record this in audio format.
Have I mentioned how much I love this fic? Yes? Well I'm saying it again, I LOVE THE ART OF LOVE AND WAR!!!
If you haven't read it please go read it.
Index Page | Chapter 1
The Art of Love and War Is written by @fireflywritesgt and the audio reading is recorded and posted with permision.
#OK IM ACTUALLY DOING THIS#I’ve been wanting to record dramatic readings of GT fics for a LOOOOOONG time now#but have been admittedly self conscious of my voice#but I finally bit the bullet#I did it#I recorded this chapter while I had the house to myself#Personally I still hear flaws in the audio which I assume were from getting too close to the mic#none of my edits were able to fix it so I guess I have to live with it now#if and when I have time I might re-record this chapter to fix this later#I recorded chapter 2 in the same sitting so that audio will be ready sooner rather than later#personally I think it sounds better#Hope you guys enjoy this#it was really fun to do and I’d like to do more in the future#g/t#giant/tiny#gt#giant tiny#borrowers#g/t fluff#Mighty Records#the art of love and war#taolaw#taolaw audio drama
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LOST WITHOUT YOU ☆
INFO: 2812 words, Alhaitham x gn!reader, a little mildly suggestive content (16+)
SYNOPSIS: after focusing your whole life on studies and beating Alhaitham, you find that you've lost yourself, and you don't know how to put yourself back together.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is so rushed and bad but the ideas just kept flowing out and suddenly I wrote a whole short story 😓 (unedited pls lmk if u find errors! likes and reblogs also very much appreciated!!!)
It was never a competition – not to him, at least.
Him, with his cold, unwavering demeanour and even colder, unshakable gaze.
It never was a competition, but to you, everything was. You hated it all. You hated his expression, permanently arranged in disdain, and his withering glare. That look that he always gave you, always the same, blank stare.
Above all, you loathed his overwhelming sense of self importance. He carried himself with such an air that you felt absolutely unremarkable next to him, and in your drunken wishes, you yearned for him to be put in his place.
Wishful drinking, you called it, and such was suited to a night like this. The night before receiving the results for your final exams, the only one that really mattered in your seemingly futile quest to outshine Alhaitham.
Your roommates were fully aware of your infatuation, though you wouldn’t call it that. They teased you for locking yourself up in your room while they went out socialising and bar streaking, most often returning with the reek of alcohol staining their clothes, passing out on the couch.
They thought you weren’t a drinker, too, but truthfully, you only saved drinking for important occasions, and this seemed like an occasion important enough. With a flair for dramatic, you had claimed yet another bottle of cheap wine off the kitchen counter before retreating to your room, several glances of concern and curiosity following you down the hallway. Seated on the miniature balcony, you twisted open the cap on the bottle, wincing at the wine’s harsh bitterness as time slipped by, minutes blurring into hours with hushed murmurs outside your door.
They cared, they really did. But you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge them, not with your thoughts too occupied with outdoing Alhaitham to amount to anything substantial. Your roommates already thought you were a studying fanatic – those looks of concern weren’t a first time occurrence as you trudged up the stairs with the wine in tow. You didn’t care enough to correct or reassure them – though were they wrong?
You hardly left the house enough, if it weren’t for classes and your job, you’d be a hermit. It felt suffocating, sometimes, the life you’d given yourself. Though ahead in all other aspects, you couldn’t help but feel like you were falling behind. Everyone was falling in love, while you fell behind, caught in the grinding cycle of academics and validation.
Melancholic and dramatic, you were, when you were drunk. Though others may be hopeless romantics.
“[name]? Someone’s here to see you.” Your roommate knocks on your door.
You don’t glance over your shoulder as the knocking becomes more insistent. “No thanks.”
“May I come in?” A familiar voice echoes from down the hallway. Your hand freezes halfway to the bottle.
The door creaks open, and you turn around, slowly standing up and steadying yourself on the railing. Alhaitham stands in the doorframe, only his silhouette visible through the light pouring in through the hallway.
You’re suddenly far too aware of your pyjama pants and well worn hoodie, folding your arms across yourself. “Why are you here?”
He stands there for a while, completely still. Then he sighs. “I don’t know.” Stepping across the threshold, he starts to close the door behind him.
“I didn’t say you could come in,”
“Sorry.” He says. After a brief silence, he leaves.
You stand there, confused, with unspoken questions hanging in the air.
Then, the door opens again.
You’d never seen him so unsteady before, gaze darting around the room and a flush high on his cheeks. His Emerald eyes are bright as he steps into the dim light of your room. “I have to come in.”
You frown at him in confusion. “Why are you here?”
The moment doesn’t seem real as he crosses the room, joining you on the balcony. Quiet lingers around the two of you as you give up asking for his motive and simply reassume your position at the railing. Maybe you’re too tired or burnt out to care, but as he hesitantly joins you, casting you indiscreet side glances, you offer him the bottle.
A show of camaraderie, perhaps.
He shakes his head, and you take a swig from the bottle, yourself, before setting it back on the low, rusty coffee table.
He fidgets with his hands, turning the ring on his index finger over and over. It clicks with the ring on his other finger, occasionally, resonating an irritating ticking noise.
“Can you stop? What do you want?” You finally outburst, startling him. Alhaitham faces you now, entirely focused on you. But his usual look of casual disdain is gone, and you’re not sure you recognise the man staring at you.
His features bathed in moonlight, his gaze looks softer than it ever had before. The soft breeze brushes his hair across his forehead, and you can’t help but wonder how soft they’d feel to your touch.
“I want you,”
Before you can fully register his reply, he draws you in, one hand reaching around your waist, another reaching softly into your hair, and kisses you.
You fail to register anything at all – all other sensation is irrelevant with the sheer feeling of the warmth of his lips on yours. It feels so wrong, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away.
It’s intoxicating. He tastes like wine.
He withdraws, expression blank again.
“What?” You utter, and abruptly, as if snapping out of a stance, he flees your room with such rapidity that you have to consider whether or not it was all a dream. As his footsteps echo down the hallway, you run a hand through your hair, tousled by his touch, snatch the bottle from its place and drink deeply.
–
The autumn chill drifts in the air. Other students dawdle about on the lawns, boisterous laughter echoing across the courtyard. Your class sits in solemn silence. You with your ringing head in your hands, and him with his back turned to everyone, focused on the lecture hall’s door.
When you woke that morning, the morning after that, you were insistent on believing that it was a dream. But the empty bottle lying on the balcony and the ring on the ground said otherwise.
You turn the metal ring over in your pocket, running a finger over the miniature inscriptions on the inside.
‘Empathy, the double-edged sword’
You’d been fretting over how to return the ring, avoiding the primary subject on your mind – overshadowed with the return of the test papers.
The minutes tick by in anxious silence until the door bursts open with a professor whose arms are filled with papers.
If it weren’t for the pounding hangover, you’d be laughing at the anticlimactic atmosphere. The professor grumbles under his breath as he hands out the exam papers and results, not offering a general comment on the class’ results.
He reaches Alhaitham, and gives him the pleased look he always gives him. The class launches into whispers of speculation.
The professor’s walk down the aisles of chairs seems like it takes forever, and you have half a mind to snatch the stack of papers out of his hands and wildly search for yours.
Until he stops in front of you.
A slight smile as he hands the paper to you.
“Well done.”
A perfect score.
Over your shoulder, someone announces it to the entire class.
Alhaitham meets your eyes with a soft smile and a nod. A ninety nine is hastily scrawled onto the front page with red ink.
Relief; Your heart and head feel light, but your stomach is filled with butterflies. It should feel liberating, but you’re unsure what – how – to feel. The past few years had led up to this moment, but it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like you thought it would, like the victory you’d hoped it would’ve been.
As quick as it was, your relief is gone, quickly replaced by a sinking feeling of foreboding as you walk out of the classroom, congratulations falling on deaf ears.
–
It’s midnight, again, and you’re awake, tossing another empty bottle into the corner to join the others.
Your roommates were overjoyed for you, they cooked you a celebratory dinner, toasted to your success, and teased you about going clubbing with them that night. Yet you turned them down like you always did, because nothing felt right anymore.
That gaping hole in your heart, previously haphazardly filled with academics, now felt like a great, yawning chasm with no bottom in sight.
Your entire purpose had been fulfilled, and you had a bright future with job offers lying in your emails, untouched, but it didn’t feel complete.
You realised that you lost yourself.
In trying to become better than someone else, you’d lost yourself, and you didn’t know how to find a way back.
“[name], we’re going out, are you sure you don’t want to join us?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
A slight pause. “Okay. Also, your friend from before is at the front door. Should I let him in?”
You vividly recall the intoxicating, wine stained taste of Alhaitham’s lips against your own, the sensation of his fingers tangling in your hair, and his hand bracing your waist on this very balcony. The ring sits in your pocket, the tiny scrap of metal heavier than ever – a burning weight.
“Sure. Send him up here.” You manage.
Melancholic and dramatic were a few of the things you were when you were drunk, but you were also known to have made horrifyingly bad decisions.
You hear your roommate walk down the hallway and down the stairs. You hear the front door open and close. You take the ring out of your pocket and start turning it over in your hands, pacing around your balcony all the while.
A knock on your door, and you snap to attention, waiting a while before weakly calling for him to enter.
The door slowly creaks open, and his silhouette fills the doorframe. He leans against it, seemingly unsure of whether or not to fully enter.
A long silence ensues.
“Are you here to take your ring back?” You start, holding it out.
“Oh. Yeah.” But he doesn’t cross the room. So you do. You walk toward the door, stepping into the light of the hallway as he steps back.
His cheeks are flushed, gaze darting and fleeting.
With more daring than you’d ever displayed, you grab his hand and slide the ring back on, marvelling at his fingers – long, slender, pale. Pretty. A scholar’s hands.
“Thanks.” He murmurs, looking up from your hands, meeting your eyes for the first time.
The soft look is back again.
“Congratulations, by the way.” He starts, removing his hands from yours. “Professor said we were going to share valedictorian.”
You nod, suddenly immensely uncomfortable. “Not surprised.”
He nods as well, seemingly sheepishly, muttering something under his breath that you don’t catch.
“What was that?”
“Kaveh said that if I don’t tell you tonight, he’d tell you himself.”
“Well tell him that I said thanks.”
He rubs his face with his hand, exasperated. “No, not congratulations,”
“Then what?”
He gives you a long look.
“Are you going to stare at me all night?”
“Archons, I don’t know what you do to me.” He takes your face in his hands and brings your lips to his.
It all feels so right. Alhaitham tastes just as intoxicating as he did the first time, only now, there’s a fervour behind his movements. The cherry wine on his lips is exhilaratingly rich. You could get drunk off his taste alone.
His hands boldly move down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin – in return, your hands wander his torso, teasingly skimming the skin beneath his shirt. He shudders, pulling away, although the sheer intensity of his gaze tells you that he won’t be leaving you this time.
“Does that tell you what I'm here to tell you?”
“Might have to explain a little more,” You rasp, catching your breath.
Some sort of restraint within his self control snaps, and he pushes you into your room, locking your door behind you.
In light of what happened after that, you were tremendously grateful that your roommates had left to go clubbing.
–
Neither of you were sure what it was.
The morning after, he’d left before you woke up. Rather than feeling betrayed, you appreciated his absence, as it gave you time to gather your scattered, alcohol imbued thoughts.
It soon became a regular thing, where he’d stop by your shared house – that you’d never given him the address to (although he later explained that he got it from Kaveh) – to see you. It wasn’t always a hook up, sometimes he dropped by in the middle of the day if you were around, and made conversation.
The first few nights, however, were actively avoided. He would always hurriedly change the topic or avoid the question, averting your gaze. But it didn’t matter now – or so you thought – as he sat on your bed, watching you read.
A month ago, you’d have kicked him out without a second thought, but here you were, making idle conversation about something as ordinary as TV shows and work with him while you read.
It felt nice – right. It felt like you’d known each other for years when you were intent on resenting him for your entire college career. It felt so secure that you’d forget why you hated him.
“What’s on your mind?” He asked, flipping through one of the novels lying on the bedside table.
“You.”
Alhaitham rolls his eyes. “Of course I am.”
You hit him lightly with your book. “Pretentious little shit.”
“Wounded.” He deadpans, setting the book back down.
“Seriously though, I find it so weird that you’re sitting on my bed and making normal conversation with me when a year ago I’d have given you a black eye if you showed up to my house unannounced.”
He frowns. “Why?”
You level him with a blank stare. “Are you being sarcastic?”
He shakes his head, expression genuine.
“You’re not kidding?” You set aside your book, leaning in. “I hated you, you know that, right?”
“What?” His expression is one of genuine surprise as he takes in the apparently new information. “Since when? Why?”
“You have to be kidding me.” You laugh at the comical nature of it all. “You didn’t know?”
He stares at you, mouth half open in shock. “The whole time?”
You nod.
He lies down on your bed, still digesting the discovery. “I thought…”
“What did you think?”
“Your friends always just said that you didn’t socialise a lot, I thought you just didn’t know how to socialise or something,”
You sit and observe him in silence for a while.
“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m surprised” he runs a hand through his steel grey hair. “It was so obvious, now that I think about it. How could I have not realised?”
“Your turn. Tell me.” You suddenly say, lying down next to him. “What did you want to tell me the first night you visited me?”
He goes quiet. He’s quiet for so long that you have to check if he’s still awake. His gaze is pointed at your ceiling, the glow in the dark stars there.
“I’ve been somewhat in love with you for the longest time.” He finally admits, voice thick.
“You what?” You sit up, mouth agape. “What the fuck?”
“If you want me to leave, I’ll go.” He says, sitting up as well. “I figured I should tell you eventually, and that time is now.”
Quiet ensues, as it so often does when you’re around each other. Not an uncomfortable sort of quiet – the quiet that speaks louder than words.
You’d both been blind the whole time. You, for your infatuation with him – with beating him, with his person, with his attitude and, though you’d never admit it to him, his looks – and him, with his one sided love for you.
And though you’d both been too near-sighted to see the other person in their entirety, now your cracks are showing. The recesses in his facade of steel, and the fractures in your mask of indifference.
Two puzzle pieces. Pieces that could mould to each other, shaping and weathering with time.
So when he makes to leave, you grab his hand. A silent question. The tension eases from his shoulders, and Alhaitham pulls you off the bed, wrapping you in his arms.
The past few weeks with him have proven nothing but the possibility of loving him. That the hatred that you’d accumulated over months of blind infatuation masked the presence of something far more confronting.
You couldn’t recognise yourself in the mirror anymore. So much of you was missing. But maybe, the two of you could find yourselves in each other.
written by @delat1ne, published 27th of August 2023
#genshin#genshin impact#alhaitham#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham fanfic#alhaitham fics#genshin x reader#genshin angst#genshin imagines#alhaitham angst#alhaitham fluff#theres a tiny bit of fluff if you squint#melodramatic asf#college au#genshin college au#genshin modern au#academic rivals#academic rivals to something like lovers#open ending ish?#ive never actually written this much in one sitting this is a new record for me#i don't normally have the attention span to do this much at once cries#thank you to everyone who actually reads this absolute monster of a post
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