#reader is asexual

"Hey! It's the barracks bunny of the 141!" Your left ear lifts up and swivels towards the sound of the voice, looking up from your lunge. "What, you didn't get fucked hard enough not to be able to run? I guess since you've been with them long enough they've stretched you out."

The soldier, no, the rookie, puffs his chest with every word of his insult, his fox tail lashing behind him. There were a few other rookies snickering behind him, watching the two of you interact with hungry eyes.

"So you're unoriginal and a virgin. Muscles don't stretch out. They snap back." You hum simply. "If you know what's good for you, go run your laps and do your warm-ups. Sargeant Soap is your trainer today, is he not?" You stand up, muscles sighing happily from the stretch and release.

"Oh, is he your favorite? Which hole does he take the most?" The rookie goes to take a step towards you when a snarl rips through the air. The rookies shoot into a line, standing in formation with eyes fixed forward. You don't even flinch, lowering your ears with a small smile.

"Hey Johnny. Did you do your stretches for the morning?" You inquire, giving him an expectant look.

"Of course! I always feel the difference when I don't do them. Did I hear one of these Muppets giving you a hard time?" Johnny asks, running his tinge over his teeth as he glare at his line of rookies.

"Oh, just the usual bold talk from a bunch of pups who never learned the value of an inside thought." You sigh wistfully. "I'm sure you can take care of it."

"Oh, I could. But I want to enjoy a run today. I think Ghost is free this morning, though!"

There is an audible gulp from the rookies, and you smile.

You didn't really care what happened to the rookies once Ghost started barking orders at them. You knew he was extra frustrated to have rookies to punish instead of going on his morning run.

When you bring Price his lunch that afternoon, he perks up when you walk into the room. "Hey, Y/N, sit down, please." Price insists, glancing down hungrily at the two sandwiches, side of fruit, and two cookies you were handing him before setting it aside.

"If this is about the incident this morning, Sir, I promise I'm fine." You assure him as you sit down across from him and give him a smile. Price nods slightly and clears his throat.

"It shouldn't have happened. It's not acceptable." He looks guilty, his eats dropping slightly on his head.

"John, it's not like you could've known they would've acted like that." You catch his eye and give him a small smile. "I know I look more vulnerable, and you want to protect me, but I can protect myself. I know you will always look out for me."

"Until training season is over, try to stay with one of us on base. If someone puts their hands on you, I'm going to lose this job." He half jokes, giving you a warm smile.

You can hear the anger in his voice, but it's not directed at you. Part of you wants to protest because you don't need bodyguards around base. It's the look in Price's eyes when he looks at you, which makes the words stop in your throat. He's angry that he has to assign bodyguards to you, not because you were incapable but because others made you unsafe.

You stood, walking around the desk and giving him a hug. He stays still for a moment, turning his head into your hair and grooming your ears to self soothe. You let him, settling down in his lap so he could sniff at you, feel you close to him. So he could remind himself you were safe.

"I'll text you when I wake up. You can stretch with me in the morning." You offer after a few minutes pass, pulling Price's plate close. "You need to eat. Your medicine needs to be taken with food."

"You and your medicine." John huffs, resting an arm around your waist as he digs into his food.

"Do your joints feel better?"

"Yes." He grunts begrudgingly.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Your tail wags smugly and Price chuckles down at you.

"Hush. The dehydrator is going to be delivered soon." Price says, which makes you perk up immediately. "Thought that would make your day better."

"Of course it does! I have a few recipes I want to try." You giggle, settling down into his lap while he continues to eat. Price knew he should let you get back to work, you had your own job to do after all.

But you didn't seem to be in a hurry, and Price was going to keep you selfishly to himself for now. If you were here with him, he could guarantee you were safe.

OH MY GOD THIS IS NOT A DRILL I AM UPDATING SOME OF MY SERIES CHAPTERS!! Today is my day of birth, of creation, of breach. The worms blessed me with this lovely chapter and there will be more to come soon for the other stories in my multi part series masterlist! Promise.

It’s a complicated feeling.

Love.

That feeling that builds in your chest every time you look at the person who holds your heart. Like the world slows just a bit when your shoulders brush or you catch a smile on their face.

There are different kinds of love.

The warm and gentle, familial kind that offers safety and comfort.

The playful and loyal kind you feel for a friendship spanning years.

The protective, unspoken kind—the kind where, if that person were to disappear, your whole world would go dark.

The white-hot, burning kind that leaves you breathless and wanting. Passion and lust for each other, all hands and gasping breaths.

It’s those last two that have you up at night lately.

It’s been months since you moved into the Tower with the rest of the team. Your days have been spent training and going to debriefs, sure—but they’ve also been filled with gentle, comforting moments. That kind of peace you only feel when you’ve found a place to call home. And you know a large part of that feeling is because of one person who lives here with you.

Bob.

Sweet, playful, timid Bob.

You hadn’t expected to bond with him so quickly, to feel at ease just because he’s next to you.

The quiet mornings spent drinking coffee while the two of you watch the sunrise in comfortable silence—that’s the only way you can start your day now.

You’ve built a routine around being near him.

You’re not sure when it started. You just found yourself standing closer, brushing hands, smiling at his words. When he wasn’t there, your mood would sink—as if he held the key to your happiness.

Days spent going on grocery runs together, planning meals, then cooking for the rest of the team. Wandering bookstores or visiting cafés when the Tower felt too suffocating.

You can’t think of a day spent without him nearby.

And it’s confusing.

You’ve never really thought about the concept of romantic love. Never felt the need to explore the idea of sharing your life with someone. Never felt that hot, burning passion that leaves people tearing off clothes, hands grasping, breaths hot and staggered.

The thought of your sweaty body pressed flush to another while you lose yourself in the act of pleasing—it almost makes you uncomfortable. The need to have sex to prove love has always been one of the main reasons you never bothered with relationships.

Frankly, the idea of sex made you nauseous. Too many fluids and sensations. That kind of closeness always seemed invasive—panting and flushed against someone else.

You always thought you couldn’t have that kind of love without that desire, and you were resigned to the fact that you would be alone forever.

You didn’t mind. Not at first.

But now you lie awake, turning over the feelings you have for Bob. They’re confusing. And they hurt.

You’re scared to admit that the feeling clawing its way out of your chest is more than friendship.

It’s that suffocating need to be near him. The constant thoughts about him.

You’re in love with him.

But where does that leave you? Even if he felt the same, you can’t offer him everything a loving relationship is supposed to have. You can’t give him that primal, passionate part that people need.

So you tuck that feeling away. Lock it up.

And give up on the idea that he could ever love you just as you are.

~

You don’t mean to avoid him. Not really.

But you’ve pulled away.

Just a little.

Not enough for anyone else to notice—Bob still sits beside you on the couch during movie nights, still finds you in the kitchen for breakfast, still asks if you want to help him pick out new houseplants for the common room.

But the touches you once leaned into—shoulders brushing, knees knocking—now feel like dangerous territory. So you flinch, just barely. You duck your head, offer him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You don’t mean to. You hate it.

But it’s easier than the alternative: blurting out I’m in love with you but I can’t give you what you deserve.

Because what if he says he loves you too?

And what if he means it in the way the world defines love? What if he wants that burning, breathless thing—bodies tangled, skin on skin, need carved into the space between your ribs? You want closeness, yes. You want intimacy. But not that kind. Not the kind that makes your stomach twist with discomfort and dread. Not the kind that’s expected, inevitable, normal.

And Bob—he deserves normal for once in his damn life. Doesn’t he?

You curl tighter into yourself as the thought sinks in. It’s not fair. He’s the one who made you feel like home. He’s the one who made you laugh until you cried, who took your hand during a panic attack and held it like it was the most natural thing in the world. He’s the one who never pushed, never prodded, just… showed up. Again and again. Just Bob.

God, you love him.

But you’ve read enough books and watched enough movies to know how these stories go. You know how they end. And people like you—people who don’t want that, who feel love in other ways—don’t usually get a happy ending.

So instead, you sit across from him at the Tower kitchen table, chewing the inside of your cheek while he talks softly about new chili recipes. You try to pretend your chest doesn’t ache every time he looks at you with those soft, golden-brown eyes.

And then he stops mid-sentence. Tilts his head.

“You okay?”

You blink. “Yeah.”

His gaze lingers. Gentle, but searching. “You’ve been… different lately.”

You force a shrug. “Just tired.”

He’s quiet for a moment too long, eyes searching your face like he’s trying to piece together something that doesn’t make sense. And then—softly, like it aches to say it—he speaks.

“Did I… did I do something wrong?”

You shake your head, quick and instinctual. “No. No, Bob. It’s not—”

“Because if I said something, or crossed a line, or—God, I don’t know. I just… I miss you.” His voice cracks, and suddenly the words start to tumble out faster, less controlled. “I’ve been trying not to make it weird, but I feel it, okay? You’ve been pulling away and I didn’t know if it was me or if you were just… done. With whatever this is.”

You swallow hard.

“I thought maybe it was my fault. That I made you uncomfortable. And if I did—if I screwed this up—then I’m so sorry. I’ll stop. I’ll back off. I’ll get over it.”

Your breath catches. “Get over what?”

Bob laughs, helpless and a little self-deprecating. “The stupid crush I’ve been nursing since the day you moved in.”

Your heart breaks.

He keeps going, like he’s bracing for the end. “I didn’t mean to make it weird. I wasn’t gonna say anything, but it’s driving me crazy not knowing what I did wrong. So if it’s that—if you found out how I felt and it made you want to run—then I get it. I’ll deal with it. I’ll—”

“No.” The word rips out of you, louder than intended. You force yourself to breathe. “No, Bob. That’s not it.”

His brow creases. “Then what is it?”

You’re trembling, fingers twisting the hem of your sleeve like it might keep you from unraveling completely.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you whisper. “That’s the worst part. You did everything right. You’re… you’re sweet. And safe. And so good to me, and I’m in love with you, and it hurts like hell because—”

You stop, biting your lip, throat burning.

“Because what?” he asks, softer now.

You look away. You can’t bear to see his face when you say it.

“Because I can’t give you everything people want in a relationship. I can’t offer you that kind of closeness—that kind. I’ve never wanted it. I don’t want it. Not with anyone.”

You force yourself to meet his eyes. “I’m ace. Asexual. I don’t want sex. And I know that’s something most people need, and I’ve made peace with that. But I never expected to fall in love, and now that I have, it just… it feels cruel. To want you and know I can’t give you everything you deserve.”

You expect silence. Or pity. Or a soft, understanding smile that means goodbye.

But all Bob does is stare at you—open, stunned, and soft in the way only he can be. He takes a breath, eyes wide.

And then, barely above a whisper:

“…That’s what you’ve been afraid of?”

His voice is so quiet, so stunned, you can’t tell if it’s disbelief or confusion or something worse. You can’t read his face. He’s just… staring at you.

And that’s somehow worse than anger. Worse than rejection.

You feel yourself shrinking inward, shame curling tight around your ribs like a vice. You knew this was coming—you knew—and still the ache of it cleaves right through you.

You force a shaky breath, eyes fixed on your hands so you don’t have to see him walk away.

“I get it if you need time. Or if this changes things. I just—” You break off. Swallow hard. “I just needed you to know why I pulled away. It wasn’t because I didn’t feel something. I did. I do.”

Still, he doesn’t speak.

You finally look up.

He hasn’t moved.

His mouth is parted slightly, like he wants to say something but the words got caught somewhere in his chest. His brow is furrowed, his hands gripping the edge of the table like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, throat tight. “I should’ve never let it get this far. I should’ve known better.”

He blinks at that, something flickering behind his eyes, but it’s gone too fast to name.

And then you add, voice barely audible, “It would’ve been easier if I didn’t love you.”

His shoulders jerk like he’s been struck. But still, he says nothing.

So you do what you always do when it hurts too much to stay: you stand.

Slowly. Carefully. Like moving too fast might break whatever this is beyond repair.

“I should go.”

You’re halfway to the door before he finally speaks.

“Wait.”

It’s just one word, and it hits you square in the spine.

You stop. But you don’t turn around. Can’t.

Another beat of silence. Then:

“You love me.”

It’s not a question. Just… wonder. Disbelief. Maybe a little broken, like the words don’t feel real in his mouth.

You nod, even though he can’t see it. “Yeah.”

A pause.

“You thought I’d leave. Because you’re ace.”

Your voice is barely there. “Not leave. Just… not want this.”

“Why wouldn’t I want this?” The question bursts out of him, raw and cracking with emotion. “You think I only want you if I can sleep with you?”

You flinch at the edge in his voice, even though it’s not anger. It’s something sharper. Something hurt.

“No, I just—” Your breath catches. “I’ve seen what people expect. What they need. And I’m not that. I’m not—enough.”

Now you turn, because you have to. Because the silence behind you is suddenly too loud.

He’s standing now too. Still gripping the table like he’s afraid of what’ll come out if he lets go.

His eyes are glassy. And when he speaks again, his voice cracks.

“You’ve always been enough.”

The room feels like it’s holding its breath.

“I didn’t say anything because I thought you didn’t feel the same,” he says, voice trembling. “But I was happy just being near you. Being yours in whatever way you’d let me. I didn’t need anything else.”

You stare at him, heart in your throat.

And you’re crying too now. You can feel it—hot and silent and unstoppable, tears sliding down your cheeks before you can even think to stop them.

“A messy pair, it looks like,” you sniffle, voice thick with emotion. You drag your sleeve across your face and look up at him, really look—searching his expression for any sign that this isn’t real. That maybe he’s just being kind. That he’s going to realize later this isn’t enough.

But all you find is that same gentle care. That familiar worry for your well-being. That quiet, unmistakable want—not the kind that burns, but the kind that stays. The kind that holds.

You take a step toward him. Then another. And another, until your arms are wrapped around his middle and his are circling your shoulders like he’s afraid if he doesn’t hold tight enough, you’ll vanish.

He presses his cheek to your hair, exhaling like he’s finally breathing again.

“This… this is okay?” you whisper into the space between you. Your voice trembles. “You still want this?”

You feel him nod first. Then his hand finds the back of your head, fingers weaving gently into your hair as he murmurs against your temple, soft and steady:

“It’s more than okay. I want everything you have to offer. Just you. As you are.”

You close your eyes. Let yourself feel the warmth of his body against yours. The safety in his arms. The steadiness in his voice.

But you need to check, “I’ve never been in an actual normal relationship. I don’t know how to make it right..” voice small.

“I don’t want some perfect idea of a relationship—I want you. However you come. However you love.” His hand rubbing slow grounding circles on your back as he speaks.

“If something’s ever too much, or if something doesn’t feel right,” he continues, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, “you tell me. We work through it. Together.”

Your chest tightens, not from fear this time, but from relief so full it almost hurts. You nod, lips trembling.

“I want to be close,” you whisper. “I just… I need it to be slow. And on my terms. I don’t always have the words right away, but I’ll try.”

“I never fell for you because of what you could give me. I fell because you’re you.” He looks down at you making sure you see how sincere he is.

“If I get to spend my life just loving you the way you want to be loved… that’s the best future I could ask for.” Bob says quietly.

You lean your forehead against his, both of you damp-cheeked and quiet, sharing breath.

Then he smiles—crooked and warm, with just a hint of nervous laughter. “This is probably the worst time to say it, but… do you still want to help me repot the monstera?”

You let out a watery laugh, and something in your chest finally, finally unclenches.

“Only if you don’t drop the soil all over the carpet this time.”

“No promises.”

And just like that, the world starts to stitch itself back together—slowly, gently, one soft moment at a time.

~

You always thought love had to look a certain way.

Lust. Fireworks. Desire burning under skin, mouths pressed together in desperate need. That was what everyone seemed to chase. That was what people wrote poems about, what characters clung to in the stories you never saw yourself in.

And for a long time, you thought that meant love wasn’t for you. That you were a puzzle piece no one would ever quite fit with. That maybe what you had to give just wasn’t enough.

But then came Bob. With his awkward smiles and oversized hoodies and gentle eyes that held galaxies of patience. With his hands that never reached until you offered. With the kind of love that didn’t ask you to change or contort or become anything other than what you are.

It’s different. What the two of you have.

But not lacking.

Not half of something.

Not less.

It’s quiet hands brushing in the hallway. Shared meals and bad jokes and early mornings where you say everything without a single word. It’s building trust one heartbeat at a time. It’s safety. And laughter. And presence.

And it’s love. True, real, full-bodied love.

Not in spite of your boundaries, but because of them. Because you were brave enough to speak, and he was kind enough to listen. Because you laid yourself bare and he stayed.

Because you chose each other, knowing exactly what you were choosing.

This is your kind of love. Powerful not because it shouts the loudest, but because it never asks you to shrink.

And as he reaches for your hand again—fingers intertwining with yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world—you realize you were never missing anything.

The nurses helped you by letting you volunteer with the rookies who needed someone to sit and talk with them. They all enjoyed your presence, and you made a mental promise to visit the infirmary at least once a week to visit anyone feeling down in recovery.

The month passed painfully slow. Even though you were counting down the days of the teams return, you were caught off guard by they get back four days earlier. You were walking around the inside of the base, heading toward the living room when two arms wrap around your waist and lift you off the ground.

"Jesus!" You yelp, defensively kicking a leg back for a second only to hear a familiar chuckle. "Price! You're back!" The excitement in your tone dies down immediately when Price sets you down and growls a little in your ear.

"What are you wearing!? Why do you smell like that!?" Price interrogates as he sniffs at your ears and face. He could see your ears drooping, nose twitching like crazy as you listened to his words.

"Like what?? I mean, I ran out of my regular body oil, but -" Johnny buries his nose into your neck, also having snuck up on you for a snuggle. "Johnny!" You scold harshly when he nips your neck a little too hard for your liking and snarls in your ear. You swat his forehead and force his head away from you despite the dejected whine he gives you.

"Sorry, Y/N. I know we're being mean... But you smell different. You don't smell like us or like your usual smell. Don't like it." Johnny whimpers, his ears low and tail tucked between his legs.

"Well, don't nip at me so hard, okay? Your teeth are very sharp." You warn as Price starts rubbing his head back and forth across your shoulder. "Are you scenting me!?"

"We have too, Y/N. You gotta smell right." Price murmurs, and that's all you get out before Kyle and Simon descend on you with furious sniffing and huffing.

Almost an hour later, Price had placed an order for your body oil in bulk. You'd also been sandwiched between all four of your pack mates, who spent the whole time scenting you. Your bed wasn't meant to hold all of you, but Johnny and Kyle fought over who got to groom your hair and ears, while Price and Simon nuzzle and rub their faces against your tummy and shoulders.

There were a few nips, which you didn't scold unless they were a little too rough. You couldn't help but grin and giggle the entire process. Not only was your team back, but they had seeked you out first. They were acting like a little pack of puppies, whining and pouting at their den mothers.

"Alright! Boys!" You plea through some giggles, which gets all of their focus on you. "You all haven't eaten properly in a month. I need to make you dinner." You insist as you try to wriggle yourself from their grip.

"We'll order something!" Johnny insisted immediately, and Kyle nods eagerly beside you.

"Please? Just tonight?" John asks quietly as he rests his chin on your stomach. You huff a little, but you could hear the soft thumping of tails and you couldn't fight the four sets of puppy eyes facing you.

"Okay! Just tonight. I also re did the living room to look more like a den. We can eat there tonight. Like a sleepover." You offer, watching as Simon reluctantly pulls himself away from the cuddle puddle to grab some take out menus for everyone to look over and choose food from. When he returns, he drops himself down happily onto the bed.

CRACK!

The bed sunk down immediately, the room falling completely silent for a long moment. "And here I thought I'd never break a bed frame.." You joke, slapping a hand over your mouth after. Johnny barks out a quick laugh, and everyone soon joins in. You were laughing so hard you couldn't take a breath, letting out a snort when you tried to take in a breath.

That sent Kyle back into a fit of giggles, spurring Simon's loud rumbling laugh. After five minutes of laughing and ten minutes of trying to pry yourselves out of the beds wreckage, you were standing above the sucken mattress.

"Well. I guess we will be having a sleepover in the new den, huh?" You tease as you turn to Simon. He looks a little guilty, his ears lowered as he nuzzles your head slightly. "Oh, Simon, don't worry about it, okay? I'll get a new bed frame soon. Right now, it's time to order food and watch a movie."

"And more cuddle pile?" Kyle asks hopefully, pressing his nose against your shoulder and looking up at you.

"After you all take a shower. We all stink now. I promise I won't use my other body oil." You swear, making all four wolves grumble happily.

I wanted to tie back the original drabble I wrote for this into an actual chapter, and I needed some fluff before I do introduce a little bit of angst... maybe. I'm sensitive so it might not happen lmao. Hope yall enjoy :]

"Ghost, stop submitting. You aren't in trouble. Sit up, please." You kept your voice firm, buy unable to stop yourself from trying to be gentle. Ghost eyes flick to yours, whining slightly as he slowly sits up, his legs still pressed to his chest as he watches you with wide eyes. "I have an ice pack. When I give it to you, put it under your shirt and against your chest."

You explain, moving closer to him but approaching from the side. If Ghost wanted to get up and run out of the room, he was free to do so. The last thing you wanted to do was block his exit and make him feel trapped. Ghost stares back at you as you offer the ice pack, not moving to take it, so you very tentively set it down in his lap.

"Under your shirt. It will help calm you down." You explain and move your hands back. You aren't sure if you could touch him yet. You want to pet his head or take off his mask that's getting wet under the eyes from big tears that silently fell from his eyes. It was still raised just over his nose, his chin still messy from licking his plate.

This wolf man was easily 3 times your size, and you read about what this task force did. You knew how strong, skilled, and ruthless this man could be. But all you saw at that moment was a scared little pup.

Your chest aches as he takes the ice pack, obediently sliding it under his shirt and pressing it against his skin. You nod in approval. "That's it, hun. I have a kettle on the stove, I don't want you to be caught off guard if it whistles." You explain to him, talking would hopefully draw him out of his panic, and you wanted him to be aware of his surroundings.

Ghost looks at the mess on the floor and then back at you, his chest hitching with a sob he refused to release. You take a deep breath, carefully reaching forward and stroking the top of his head. "Ghost, im gonna take off your mask, if that's okay with you. I want to clean up your face." You offer tentively, Ghost leaning into your touch just slightly.

He nods once, quickly, and you gently peel up the mask and take it off, being careful with his ears. "There we go." You hum softly, setting the mask within reach and taking a handkerchief out of your back pocket. You always carried one for wiping tears, snot, or blood away. "Can I wipe your face, hun? I'll be gentle." You offer, taking in his face.

He was cute, those wide blue eyes even softer, almost rounder, without the mask, a scar across his nose and one that dragged from his right temple, down to mid cheek. A surge of protection filled you, but you kept your hands in your lap until he nodded again. One quick movement, but it was the permission you needed to begin carefully wiping his face.

"I-I made a mess. I'm sorry. I'll clean it, I'll buy more plates, I didn't mean-"

"Shh." Ghost falls silent, whining at you as he curls his tail around himself. "I'm not mad, hun. Do you know what happens when we make a mess?" You gently brushed your knuckles over his now dry cheek, watching him lean into the touch just slightly. "We clean it up. That's all. Tomorrow, I'm going to the store, and I could buy so many plates there."

You opened up your hand, placing your palm against his cheek to hold his face still as you wiped his nose. Some would think that you were treating him like a 3 year old, wiping up a grown man's face and talking to him like a spooked fawn. But it was working, Ghost letting his head rest fully into your hands. His eyes, red rimmed but free of tears, never looked away from yours, hanging onto every word like it was gospel.

"Plates are replaceable. You hear me? I can buy a million new plates, but I could never find another you. And I don't think your team could either." You fixed him with a soft smile, stroking under his eye with your thumb. "The water should be hot enough now. Come with me, and I'll get you the broom and dust pan."

Ghost nods along to your words, slowly standing up when you do and taking the ice pack from under his shirt. You gently take it from his hands, noting to ask him if it had helped ground him later. You guide him to the kitchen, opening up the small cleaning supplies closet and handing him the broom and dust pan.

"I can wipe up the food mess after you sweep up." You explain, your voice going a little softer than before. Ghost nods, and heads back to the dining room. His ears were up again, not perked, but at least they weren't pinned, and his tail was no longer tucked.

Small victories.

After shutting off the stove, you grab two mugs, getting down a few boxes of tea. There were a lot of options and you weren't sure what he would like. When he came back and dumped the plate and food into the trash can, you slide over the mug.

"I wasn't sure what kind you wanted. I'll go clean up the rest." Your team leaves no room for argument. You put up the broom and grab the swiffer, sneezing when dust shakes off of it. "Oh this place is going to need a nice deep clean." You chuckle as youu head to the dining room and Ghost lets out a small chuckle.

Once everything was clean, and you both had a cup of tea, you settle on the counter as you sipped away at your herbal tea. Ghost stood close to you, his tail slightly wagging. He wasn't leaning on you, just standing close enough that some would feel uncomfortable.

But you didn't. You knew that Ghost wasn't ready for a hug, he wasn't ready for you to groom his hair and ears, or to kiss his forehead. But he was ready to seek some comfort in you, being in your space.

"Would you like to come to the store with me tomorrow? I'll need help picking out food." You offer, watching as his nose twitches, sniffing you curiously. He looks at you, nodding a little at you. "Drink your tea hun. Than we're gonna clean up from dinner."

"It's been 30 minutes, we need to check on him!" Soap was pacing in the living room. He looks over at the kitchen door again, back at Price who shakes his head yet again. Soap holds back a growl of frustration, his head whipping around when he hears the door open.

You walk out with Ghost close behind you, almost stepping on your heels as you both join them in the living room. "You okay, Ghost?" Price asks, watching as he sniffed at you the way he had earlier.

"Yes Sir" Short, simple, to the point. The room relaxes a little at that, Gaz coming over to give Ghost a nuzzle. Gaz was the most affectionate out of them all sometimes, and Ghost happily nuzzles him back.

It was getting late, and you knew you'd be up early to go to the store and make breakfast. "I'm going to shower and head to sleep. If anyone wants to join Ghost and I at the store, I'll be leaving by 7." You said as you wave goodnight, give Ghost a pat to the shoulder, and head to your barracks to get your sleep clothes.

You pretended not to notice Ghost's tail wagging when you pat his shoulder, but you can't stop smiling. Small victory, yet again.

Seriously so so grateful for every coomment, reblog that I get on this story (Or any story on here for that matter.) I haven't written in so long and to have so many people that like my writing, so thank you guys! Also I will have more Itsy Bitsy soon!

"What? What does that mean?" Simon asks curiously as he slumps into his seat at the kitchen table. You turn to face him, a look in your eyes that he can't quite put a finger on, but it's gone before he can ask you about it.

"I don't really feel romantically or sexually attracted to anyone. Like, I think you're cute, but I feel that about almost anyone. The only thing that makes people ugly to me is if their bad people." You explain as you turn your attention back to your pan.

"I'm not exactly a sweetheart, Y/N."

"But you're a better man then you give yourself credit for."

Your tone leaves no room for argument, and when the microwave dings, you take out of a bag of minute rice. Simon sits silently after that, watching as you add the rice to the pan. He recognized the smell now as the stir fry you'd been making for the last two months.

"Aren't you sick of stir fry?" He asks as you take down two bowls. You'd stopped asking him if he was hungry after a week of moving in with him. You'd simply make another plate for him, set it down, and there was an understanding that he would always eat it.

"I've had the same routine for 7 years, Si. You're the newest edition to my life, and that was six months ago." You were grinning as you slid the plate across the table to him. "That's enough about me. How was work?" You plop down in your usual seat and dig into your dinner. Simon smiles a little, lifting his mask over his nose to begin eating.

"How did you know you were asexual?"

Your crocheting pauses as Simon asks the question, and you watch as he leans against your door frame.

"Well... I tried hooking up with a guy once. And it wasn't fun. At all. He didn't do anything wrong, and I didn't hate the experience, but the longer we made out, the less I liked it." You explain, shrugging your shoulders a little. "That, and I thought sex wasn't real. Well, outside of reproduction, I mean."

"You thought sex wasn't real?" Simon laughs, not meaning to laugh right in your face, but it was a funny statement.

"Yeah, yeah, yuk it up!" You groan, but you're grinning at him, and Simon knows he didn't take it too far. "I was raised really religious. The sex education didn't exist for me, so I just thought that for every child you wanted to have, you'd have sex that many times. One kid equals one sex." You burst into a small fit of laughter when you say it out loud, and Simon can't help but join.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He says through chuckles, shaking his head. "So you... what never feel horny?"

"Oh, I do! Maybe it's tmi, but I jerk it, like, 3 times a day. Masterbation rules!" You chuckle, getting even louder when you see the look on his face.

"Three times a day?" He mutters in disbelief. He thought Johnny's habit of jerking off first thing in the morning was bad, but you were even worse. "Well, at least you have an outlet for it."

"Why are you asking me?" You ask after a long moment, turning your attention back to the yarn craft in your lap.

"Just curious. Never met someone who doesn't date or fuck before." Simon answers honestly, not missing the way your eyes flick up to study his face. He could see the faintest smirk there, but you just nodded your head in understanding.

"If you have any other questions, you can ask me." You offer, and Simon nods before he walks away. He left your door open how he'd found it and glanced back at the doorway before going to his own room.

Oh, he had questions all right. But he wasn't ready to even ask himself those questions yet, let alone hear your answer. He was worried that you might have opened a door for him. One he couldn't close now that he might've found an answer for how he feels.

"So, are you ever gonna date the roommate you've been living with, or can I give them my number?" Kyle asks one day as they file out of base from a long two weel deployment. "You've been there, what, a year? And you two are strictly platonic still?"

"We're in a partnership." Simon states simply, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "Neither of us date, and we both want someone to spend our time with. It works for me." He continues when he gets slightly confused looks from his two Sargeants.

"So... are they single? Or are you two together?" Johnny asks in confusion, trying to understand the dynamic. "Friends with benefits?" He offers and Simon snorts.

"No. Y/N helped me realize something about myself. And I really like being around them. This leave, they are taking me on a train ride to Pennsylvania for Squankapalooza." Simon explains, simple and to the point, but it didn't truly answer Johnny or Kyle's question.

You pulled your car up into the lot at that moment, parking and stepping half out to wave, and Johnny and Kyle. "Hey there! Let's go, Si! We've got to be at the train station at seven!" You order, and Simon stomps out his remaining smoke and giving the two men a wave.

"I'll bring you both back a trinket." He says, half joking, and heads to the car. "You already packed and ready to go?" He asks as he slides into the passenger seat.

"Yes, except food. We're gonna stop and get a good meal, then grab snacks for the rest of the ride, deal?" You offer, helping him move his suit case to the back seat.

"Yeah, perfect. Rock, paper, scissors to choose?" Simon teases and you give him side eye.

"You always manage to read my mind. We'll just go to the steak house." You chuckle, shaking your head playfully.

"Sounds good. I missed you." He says honestly, taking your hand and giving it a squeeze. You lean over and kiss his cheek, giving him a warm hug.

"Missed you too. I'm glad you're home." You whisper. Simon sighs, drawing you closer and placing a kiss to the top of your head. This is what he'd always longed for. Someone to love, who loved him. Who he could miss, and be missed by. No firm strings of expectations, desires to fulfill and demands of specific affection.