house-of-kolchek

[house-of-kolchek]

Please I am begging for a follow up to dress you cannot leave us hanging like that (you totally can for the record but like if you have more of the reader I don't know calling Leon out on his emotional constipation then like you should totally share it)

ITS HERE ITS HERE ITS HERE ITS HERE

ITS LIKE RIGHT HERE

[house-of-kolchek]

Dress (Part Two)

Leon Kennedy x Reader

OK I KNOW ITS BEEN A HOT MINUTE SINCE PART ONE BUT I LITERALLY REWROTE THIS THREE TIMES I APOLOGIZE

Also I love you all.

Word Count: 3.6k

Part One (18+)

Ok this is slightly (significantly) more drama than I was initially planning so. Enjoy my tears.

You didn’t get your dress dry cleaned. 

In fact, for a long time it remained in that pile, pooling at the foot of your bed. You were too afraid to call at first, your stomach churning with guilt, rejection and most of all, shame. And finally, two weeks later when you did try to call, the phone didn’t make it three rings before it was sent to voicemail.

So, with growing resentment in your eyes, you turned your phone off completely.

But still, as you stopped seeing him at work, that nagging itch in the back of your mind convinced you to ask around - even begging Hunnigan to assure you that yes, he was still alive in the least.

With that knowledge, you resigned to staring at the dress on your floor. The rumples in your sheets from your unmade bed - having not properly made it since that night. You felt like you were going crazy, biting at your nails and asking question after question to yourself in the silence.

Was he more drunk than you thought?

Did he think it was something else?

Did he regret it - did you ruin something over a one night stand?

The six week mark came and went. You’d finally picked up your dress a week prior, dumping it into a bag for donation, or just garbage, you weren’t quite sure. At this point, that stain was probably cemented into the fabric. You’d gone through a deep cleanse of your room, your apartment, anything to push away the plaguing memories of that night. If Leon wasn’t going to get back in contact with you, you would just have to move on.

Which was, of course, easier said than done. 

“Raven two- are you still with me?” The voice in your ear snapped. You cursed, glancing back at the smooth wall in front of you. The questions in your head were starting to follow you everywhere - even into work. You couldn’t help but wonder if you should have been working in the state you were in, but who would accept “My best friend and I slept together and then he disappeared” as an even remotely valid excuse?

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just looking for intel,” you muttered into the piece, picking at your nails, and the bits of dirt catching underneath them. The hallway behind you was long, leading to a sealed door. “There’s a door here that’s locked with a biometric scanner. The name matches our guy though.” You continued to study the panel, lightly running your fingers along the seams until - bingo.

With the edge of your knife, you pried against the gap in the panel, until the screen flew off, falling to the floor with a crack. Within a second, the lights had dimmed, a faint echo of an alarm bleating across invisible speakers. You cursed under your breath, taking a moment to analyze the collection of wires and motherboard looking things beneath the panel. 

What the fuck did any of them even mean.

“Fuck it.” You grabbed a handful of wires, and in a final hail mary moment, yanked them all from the panel. The alarm grew to a shriek, though you caught sight of the door shifting, just enough to indicate that the lock had faltered. Honestly, you had no idea how that even worked. 

“What the hell is going on in there?” your earpiece rang again. Your operative sounded less than thrilled.

“Well, let’s just say the security in this place is weird,” you huffed, reaching to pry the door open enough to slide into the office. “I made it into Brown’s office though.”

“Good,” she sighed. “From what I can tell they’ve dispatched a team towards the office. You’ve likely got two minutes before you need to be out of there, so get the notes and go.”

You nodded to the empty room, your brows furrowing as the lights within the office continued to flash. A computer was still on, the login information filled in.

How convenient.

You raced over to the computer, snatching a random flash drive from the desk. Clicking the login button, you watched the foreboding circle on the screen as the information loaded, your heart soaring as the desktop flashed into view. Wasting no time, you hit the files tab, plugging in the USB and copying anything, everything that you saw. You filtered through the email tab, copying the most recent files onto the drive as well. 

And then, a chorus of voices caught your attention. 

As the drive process edged towards completion, you searched through the room again, your attention catching on a door on the opposite wall. Praying that it wasn’t a closet, you ejected the drive, your arms flailing to grab at a pile of file folders, each labelled with three lettered initials. Hopefully they were important; you didn’t have the time to care. 

In a haste, you wrenched the door open, and-

“Fuck me.”

It was a closet.

“Harper,” you hissed into your piece, pushing forward between the hanging jackets and a mop handle. “I’m a little stuck in place right now, and I would really appreciate any backup.”

“Where are you?”

“In a broom closet. In Brown’s office.”

You heard a frustrated curse. A chorus of frantic typing on a keyboard before Harper’s voice was back in your ear.

“Okay, hang tight. Kennedy’s on his way.”

Wait.

“Fucking hell,” you cursed, wondering why the world had decided to curse you further in this clusterfuck of a mission. “How far out?”

“Five minutes. He was already on his way to the building.”

???????

You let out a whispered acknowledgment, falling silent as the first voice burst through the room. And then another, and another, until you were counting five low voices, assigning each other different areas to scout.

There was no way you could hide in here. Your free hand fell to the knife at your waist, shifting to the holstered gun along your thigh, and then back to the knife. It was safer. 

Better for close combat.

As Harper’s voice echoed “three minutes” into your ear, you heard a shuffle of footsteps halt directly in front of you. You held your breath, unsheathing your knife and loosening your knees into a short crouch.

The door flew open, and you lunged.

The first man let out a shout as you barrelled straight through him, sending him stumbling back off his feet. The four others - plus another surprise attendee - all whirled around to face you, their guns drawn. In a second, you ducked to the side, shuffling yourself behind the computer desk. You gave up on the file folders with a curse, throwing them over the desk towards your attackers.

In the distraction, you unholstered your gun, switching your knife to the other hand and crossing them together. Ducking your head over, you took a shot, hearing a pained cry. You shot again, creeping closer to the side of the desk. If you could sneak your way around and out the door, you could-

“He’s there.”

Another round of gunshots, ringing with that familiar weight, cut through the room. It felt quicker than three minutes, and you couldn’t help but peek your head over the desk.

Leon’s expression was stoic, his brows drawn into a line as he let loose another spray of gunfire. Two men fell to the ground, clutching at their legs. You took the opportunity to shoot out from your position, circling around towards the door. You took a few shots of your own, downing another two attackers as Leon’s arm reached out to force you behind him. 

You didn’t waste any time, grabbing his wrist and running from the room.

“Are you okay?” He huffed from beside you, having just barely caught up to your pace. You nodded, not trusting the words in your throat. His hair had gotten longer in the weeks, and there was a new hollowness just below his cheekbones. The sight of him sent a pang of emotion through you, and you chose to ignore it, keeping your expression blank as you raced towards the lab entrance.

Leon called your name as you escaped the building - surprisingly easily as no other security detail came after you. Your back flared, but your feet ignored the will of your mind, turning you to face the agent. With his long hair, wearing that familiar leather jacket and a pair of knitted brows. The sight of him, after those weeks of radio silence, of forcing you to question yourself over, and over again.

You weren’t relieved to see him. There was no spark of joy, no twinge of grief in your heart. You were angry.

“What the fuck do you want, Leon?”

He recoiled at the venom in your voice, his lips tightening further into a frown. You wanted to feel bad, to apologize and reach out for his hand, as you’d done in every argument before. But you couldn’t allow yourself to do that.

Leon cleared his throat.

“You’re bleeding,” was the only thing he said, directing his gaze to your side. You glanced down, taking in the dark, damp spot against the navy fabric of your shirt. The pain in your side didn’t even flare up until you pressed a hand to the wound, a sharp breath hissing between your teeth. Leon stumbled forward a step, his arm stretching out, until you caught his gaze, and he faltered.

It was quiet for a moment, the dull throb in your side beginning to grow in intensity. Leon’s gaze fell to the side, his teeth catching his bottom lip. If you had to hazard a guess, he looked angry, but you couldn’t tell why. 

“Just get me out of here,” you breathed, after another moment of silence between you two.

—

You didn’t let Leon come with you into the infirmary, much to his vocal protest. You received a visit from Ingrid, her expression remaining mostly concerned, though her lips held a tight line, and some prodding got her to admit that the agent had mercilessly been pestering her regarding your wellbeing. 

Why now?

You remained steadfast, refusing to confront him and allow yourself to fall back into whatever spell had prompted this whole disaster in the first place. You wallowed, you caught yourself staring at his contact in your phone. You listened to the low, muffled timbre of his voice outside your room and fought the urge to call him in, face the time, the distance that’d been placed between you two. You forced a wall up, defensive and as strong as you could muster.

You kept that wall up for five days. And then Ingrid decided she’d had enough.

You were leaning against the bed, packing up your few personal items to take home when the door opened, signaling Ingrid’s arrival.

“Hey - do you think we could stop at a drive thru on the way? I swear to god I need an actual meal-”

You shut right up as Leon Kennedy stumbled into your room, looking like a feral cat as he shrugged Ingrid’s hands off his shoulders. Her gaze found yours, unrelenting as she gestured between the two of you.

“Change of plans. Leon’s driving you home. Figure out whatever the fuck is going on between you two or I swear to god I am leaving you to die on your next missions,” she hissed, slamming the door shut without another word.

You all but shriveled into ash, your throat tightening as the man that had plagued your mind for the past two months scowled at the wall. He rolled his shoulders, biting the inside of his cheek as his gaze slowly, sloooooowly found yours.

“What have you been doing here, Leon?” you finally sighed.

“You need to be more careful.”

You huffed. “Noted. As if you have any right to tell me that. I’ll ask again: what are you doing here?” 

“If I hadn't shown up, who knows what could have happened.”

“Leon-”

“You know, you’d most likely be dead!” His voice grew in pitch, his gaze growing harder as he took a step towards you. You took a step back.

“Leon-”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that reckless,” he hissed. 

“Well, what the hell do you think caused that?” you shouted. Leon’s mouth finally snapped shut. His jaw clenched, his gaze falling away from yours.

“You can’t just disappear for six weeks and-” you cut off with a hissed curse, reaching for the sudden flare of pain in your side. Leon’s arm shot out, and against your better judgement, you stepped away from it, holding a hand out to stop him. You watched him wince.

“You can’t just do that to me and pretend everything’s fine, Leon,” you finished. He looked hurt, his hand coming up to cover his face under the facade of brushing a stray hair away from his eyes. And the silence between you grew for a long moment.

“I know,” he finally breathed, his voice clipping at the end of its sentence. When you spared him a glance, you noticed the tightness of his fists, his nails digging hard into his palm as his gaze remained unfocused against the floor. You swallowed against the lump in your throat, forcing the words out from your lips.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked, and his gaze snapped back to yours in a moment. Before he could get a word out, you were talking again. “Did I take advantage of you? Because I swear, I thought you were fully coherent. Hell, I’ve seen you in a much worse state without any problems, but maybe I read into something and I forced your hand and-”

Leon’s hands found your shoulders, and you physically jerked out of your thoughts. You watched his face twist into something that looked like pain as his hands flew off of you with a muttered apology. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I swear,” he muttered. “I did everything wrong. I just…”

You waited. And he took a breath.

“Let’s get you home.”

You let his words balance on your tongue, your gaze slipping away from him. Your brain felt like mush, both relieved and disappointed. Overall, entirely unsure of what to think. So, with a silent nod, you let him slip your bag over his shoulder, his hand hovering over your shoulder as he led you out of the infirmary and to his car.

God, you’d missed his car.

The door shut behind you, and you immediately noticed your chapstick, still settled in the second cupholder between the seats. His bags were still strewn across the backseat, along with one of your old hoodies, the only neatly folded item on the seat. Leon flicked on the radio as he drove home, keeping the volume low enough that it almost blended with the noise of the car along the road.

You recognized the song, something you used to sing to your curtains at night. Something about a fancy dress, bought for a single person.

You reached across the dashboard to switch the radio station.

Throughout the drive, you made too much effort to sneak some glances at him. He looked tense, his grip on the wheel almost as tight as his jaw. He had that familiar knot in his brows that told you of the racing thoughts in his own head. And every once in a while, you’d catch him as he snapped his attention back to the road.

By the time you arrived at your home, you’d actually tired yourself out trying to analyze his thoughts. 

Leon parked the car, glancing towards your front door. Though it wasn’t dark, the moment felt familiar. The awkward silence, the silence that thickened the air. So, before it could get too reminiscent, you practically threw yourself out the car door. 

Leon was on his feet as you shut the door, looking over the roof of the car to meet your gaze. He’d already reached to grab your bag, hoisting it over his shoulder.

“Can I help you bring this in?”

You fucking hated this distance between the two of you.

“Do you want to come in?”

Leon barely hesitated - only enough for his shoulders to relax - before he nodded, circling around the car to follow you into your home.

You shut the door, directing Leon to just drop your bag by the pile of stuff in the hall, before you trudged over to the couch, falling into the comfort of the cushions. He sat next to you, much closer than you would have expected. You spent a long moment staring into space, mustering up the words you needed to say before finally letting out a heavy sigh.

“Why did you disappear for two months? And then why did you show up? Why did I have to listen to you outside of my hospital room? Why did you leave in the first place?” 

As you asked them, your questions didn’t seem to stop, and Leon seemed to pick up on the increasing urgency in your voice as he caught your hand, rubbing a circle along your knuckles because he knew it would calm you down. You wanted to pull away from it, to keep that fiery wind in your sails before your resolve completely crumbled. Yet as you started to pull away, his grip tightened on your hand, a sharp breath sounding from his lips. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his own nose scrunching as he thought. “I thought I ruined something, that maybe I took advantage of you and ruined things.”

“So why not just talk about it?” you pressed. “I mean, we’ve seen each other through much worse.”

Leon was quiet. (I’m about to hit you with the cheesiest fucking line known to man)

“I mean, what could be worse than fucking that up and losing you?”

There was a strong wave of pure feeling that crashed through your chest. Something that felt like grief, like adoration. It felt like pain and bliss all tied up together in a bow. It was like you were teetering at the edge of a cliff and something in his words had just anchored at you. But at the same time, it felt like you were watching each other crumble apart next to each other. 

Without any warning, you burst into tears. 

Leon’s breath caught in his throat as you flew into him, wrapping your arms tight around his neck and pulling him as close as possible. He was trembling, his own arms wrapping around your waist, as he buried his nose into your shoulder.

It was rare to see this kind of emotion from him. His voice was trembling, and his grip on your waist was tight enough that you wondered if he was scared to let go. Those walls you’d watched him carefully craft over the years crumbled right in front of you, and your heart couldn’t help but swell at the outpouring of those emotions he’d locked up for so long.

“Can you forgive me for running away?” he asked. Pleaded, really. His eyes grew wider in your silence. A part of you wanted to wash away the past weeks, draw him right back into your arms without another battle. The smaller, more bitter part of you wanted to keep arguing, to show him just how much he’d hurt you. 

But this was Leon. He was your closest friend…. And he was looking at you without any defense in his gaze. He held only sincerity, if not a little bit of fear as he waited. You’d been more honest with him than anyone else, and in a moment you simply knew with utmost confidence he would offer you the same. So you asked.

“What did that night mean to you?” you asked, fighting against the tightness in your chest for volume. As you pulled away to face him head on, his gaze softened. His lips twitching in the first smile you’d seen in months.

“You said you bought that dress for me,” he started, his gaze unwavering. “And I swear I saw heaven. I meant every word I said. And I want you. I want to be with you.”

The words were simple, but they made your heart soar. 

“You’re my person,” you muttered. “Always.”

And Leon let out a huge breath, his eyes falling shut and his shoulders sagging before he surged upwards to kiss you.

When he kissed you, it felt like he craved you, like he couldn’t live without the feeling of your lips against his. He held you tight, his fingers digging softly into your back. You let your own hands curl into his shirt, your lips parting just enough for his tongue to prod against the seam.

Leon broke away from you for barely a second before he kissed you again, soft and so tender that you felt like glass about to shatter. Your thumb brushed against his cheekbone, feeling the warmth of his skin, the tickle of his hair, simply reassuring yourself that he was actually there in front of you.

He pulled you close, closer than you could even have thought possible, his hands curling into your shirt. When he finally pulled away from you, his forehead resting against your collarbone, his breath shook. Your shirt grew damp, and your arms tightened around him.

“Y’know how much I missed you, you fucking dumbass?” you sighed, and Leon let out a weak chuckle. He lifted his head slowly, his nose barely brushing against your jaw as you found those ever familiar baby blues of his.

“I think I have some idea,” he whispered with a short grin.

And you kissed him again.

TAGGING:

@chaosandbubbles @obsessedwithtoomanythings @navstuffs

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy x reader

[house-of-kolchek]

GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS IM SO PROUD

The Terrifying Ordeal of Falling in Love with Leon Kennedy

So this story WILL be posted on tumblr, but if you want to read it now, the first 6 chapters are live on AO3. This story has taken me months, and it is 40K words! I am so proud of it, I actually sobbed when I typed the last word.

Link: The Terrifying Ordeal of Falling in Love with Leon Kennedy

Leon: @house-of-kolchek @bonnibuckets @athanasia-day @muffimtv

Everything: @chaosandbubbles @kassiekolchek22

[house-of-kolchek]

Leonsayinggoodgirlleonsayinggoodgirlleonsa-

But what if Infinite Darkness Leon called you good girl

*inhales*

nsfw under the cut, good morning lmao

His head thrown back into the pillows, his large hand on the back of your head as you took as much of him as you could. His eyes shut and you had never seen such a prettier sight, the way his abs clenched and the moans only you could pull from his lips.

"Fuck," He groans as you tried to deepthroat his cock, feeling the tip hit the back of your throat, your tongue ran under the underside of him.

He's panting, he's moaning and you can feel him throbbing, as you snuck a hand - gently playing with his balls, he hisses.

"Good girl, good fucking girl." Leon moans as he held your head, thrusting his hips, fucking your mouth.

And what a good girl you were, making him feel so good after a mission nonetheless.

[house-of-kolchek]

Leon Kennedy's Bed (18+)

Leon Kennedy x Reader

@obsessedwithtoomanythings said "Leon Kennedy's Bed" and I took that personally. ENJOY THIS AND I PROMISE I'M WRITING DRESS PART 2

Word Count: 1.3k

Leon’s bed was simple. The sheets were a little messy, pillows and covers thrown together as a result of his early morning job requirements. When you had to rush out at a moment's notice, there wasn’t exactly time to tuck the corners in a militant style.

The sheets themselves were basic, light grey in colour and void of any pattern. It was familiar, the way Leon liked it.

Until you were thrown into the mix.

The messy covers were downright rumpled as your back hit the mattress. Sheets clung to your sides, twisted around your fingers when you dug your hands down. Leon barely felt the soft fabric over his own hands, his focus honed in on the way your breath tickled against his browline and the warm velvet of your skin against his lips. 

He settled onto his forearms, digging his weight against your hips. With a pleased sigh, you released his sheets, caging your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling into his scalp. Leon hummed his approval, fixing a particularly steamy bite to the junction of your collarbone. He soothed the mark with his tongue, practically preening at the sound that escaped his throat. 

It was a moment he almost thought was a dream, even going as far as to pinch himself, expecting to wake up in an empty, cold bed, with a particular problem against the sheets instead. But when he blinked, you were still there, your legs tangling against his waist and your hands gently massaging at the back of his neck. 

You reached for his hand first, prompting him to shift his weight slightly as you guided his fingers to trace under the line of your shirt, against the skin of your waist. He growled, drifting his hand up further, and drawing a long sigh from you as he traced the underside of your bra. 

“Can I take this off?” he whispered against your skin, chuckling at your eager nod. He helped you sit up, just enough so he could pull the shirt over your head, and unclip your bra with practiced ease.

He sat up on his knees, taking in the sight of you. Your eyes, hooded and glazed. Your hair fanned out against the sheets contrasting against that plain grey he was so familiar with. The smell of your skin that he knew would cling to the fabric, driving his mind crazy for days. 

It didn’t take him long to decide that he liked his bed much better with you in it.

With a muttered curse, he moved to strip his own shirt off, beaming at the way your eyes dipped downwards, widening with something he could only define as wonder. Your hands drifted up, sliding against the top of his thighs and just missing the aching spot between, instead brushing lightly against the curves and contours of his abdomen. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, tracing over one particular scar near the side of his waist.

“You’re gonna tell me about all these some day, right?”

Leon blinked. The softness and care in your voice was unexpected, especially given the context of your situation. And yet, his chest bloomed with a fuzzy warmth, and he only knew further that he was never going to let you go. Leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips, he nearly stuttered on the words against your ear.

“Every one. Promise.”

You smiled against his jaw, your lips brushing across his skin oh so delicate. Gently turning his head, you gave him another soft kiss. And another, until that soft warmth between you grew back into that sparking heat. 

Your thumb traced along the length of his collarbone, drifting lower as you teased the skin of his front. Leon sighed against your lips, dipping his tongue against yours and biting softly against your lip. He muttered a curse as your thumb teased the waistline of his pants, tugging the elastic down and shimmying your hips against him.

Oh, he was hard.

His touch growing frantic, Leon stood from the bed to yank his pants off, reaching for your own with a hot kiss just below your belly button. He teased every new inch of skin he revealed, leaving messy kisses all the way down to your knees. And as he came back up, he placed his lips directly on your clothed core, drawing a sharp gasp from you and sending your hands flying into his hair.

Leon caught sight of one of your hands, falling to the sheets beside him and gripping tight. A sense of possession struck him, sending even more blood rushing south. These were his sheets. And he was about to paint them with every part of your essence. With a growl, he wasted no time ridding your underwear, and diving into your core with teeth and tongue.

You arched your back, squinting your eyes shut and twisting the sheets beside you. Leon’s arms looped around either one of your legs, draping them over his shoulders as his tongue drew various patterns over your clit. Your core pulsed against him, tightening over nothing until he teased you open with his thumb, dipping in just the tip and massaging the edges of your walls. 

A jerk of your hips had him twitching against his boxers, and he broke his mouth away from you to strip off the final garment. You whined at the loss, lifting your head to look down at him with knitted brows. And in a moment, Leon was pushing you up on the bed, practically folding you in half as he lifted your legs back over his shoulders.

With his name on your lips, you whined, his mouth returning to your head and two of his fingers teasing at your core. As you rolled your hips against him, Leon bucked his into the mattress, groaning at the friction against the sheets. 

The mix of his movements and the vibration of his noise had you moaning out loud, your nails digging into whatever they could reach. Leon rutted into the sheets again, setting a lazy, feel-good pace as your breaths grew shallow, your voice rising in pitch. 

Leon fell into a haze, the smell, taste and feeling of you drawing every one of his thoughts away. You squeezed his fingers, reached a hand to pull at his hair, twitched to the pace of his jerking hips. Your words were slurred, incoherent as you babbled your praise, pausing mid sentence to let out the loudest moan.

He curled his fingers up, spread them apart in a scissoring motion just as you reached the edge, clamping down on him fully. You shouted his name, told him you were cumming as you pulsed around his fingers. Your thighs tightened around his head, and Leon was so focused on every movement you made that he didn’t even realize he was driving himself to the edge.

His release hit him like a train, his vision flashing with stars as a strangled moan escaped his throat. His hips stuttered against the mattress, the sheets darkening as he spilled onto them. Your legs slipped from his grasp, falling around his shuddering waist.

As Leon finally relaxed, taking in a deep breath, he found your bleary gaze. With a grin, he leaned back, massaging his thumbs into your legs as he took in the ruined sight of his bedsheets. There was something erotic about the darkened stains against the cloth, both from him and you. Evidence of what had happened. And he liked it. 

Leon pulled you into a seated position, pressing a long kiss onto your lips as he turned the two of you over, falling to his back with you resting across his chest. His arms wrapped tight around you, your chest rising and falling against his with the long breaths you took. 

“So. Round two?”

You hummed, taking in the ruined bed beneath you. “How about the shower?”

Oh, he could work with that.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader

[house-of-kolchek]

Dress (18+)

Leon Kennedy x Reader

gif is not mine but I'm still obsessed with it.

@chaosandbubbles I take your Taylor Swift prompt and raise you: "But what if it was angsty?"

Pls be nice I wrote this and did not edit it :')

Word Count: 3.3k

“Leon.”

He turned, clearing his throat, eyes searching for the familiar face belonging to that voice. You greeted him with a smile, your eyes bright as they found his. Leon grinned back, taking a few steps towards you, and stopping to look you up and down.

“You look great!” He reached a hand out, offering assistance in getting up to the stairs. A perfect gentleman.

Your ears burned, your cheeks growing pink, and you hoped that either your makeup, your hair, or the dim lighting of the hall would be enough to hide it from the man as you hooked your arm around his, allowing him to lead you into the party.

Leon himself was dressed very well, just toeing the line of appropriate for a work event. He was in a fully black suit, rather than the usual navy and white set he sported in the white house. His silky button down was open, showing off the skin of his collarbones, leading down to the first hints of his chest. 

It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before, but it still had you practically buzzing. 

“New dress?” Leon whispered as you made your way into the crowded banquet hall. The interior was lit in a dark wood, creating a warm, inviting aura. “I haven’t seen that one in the rotation before.” 

You nodded, deciding against elaborating any further. The woman at the shop had complimented your appearance when you tried it on the week before, noting that it was just perfect for the occasion. The slit along the side rode up to your mid-thigh, exposing the strength in your legs and the flash of the complimentary heel you’d chosen. The dress made you feel strong. You would even dare to say it made you feel sexy. 

Leon’s gaze hadn’t left yours, and you found yourself stuck in it. You’d found yourself caught in looks like this more recently. The softness in his gaze, the flicker of movement in his focus that was so quick you’d convince yourself you’d only imagined it. His looks like those made you feel special, like you were the only thing he was seeing.

And at the same time, his arm broke away from yours. 

Your smile barely faltered, and you stayed put as Leon travelled throughout the room. In all technicalities, this was a work event, and so you found yourself seated at a random table with some other agents you recognized.

Taking a seat beside Ingrid, you greeted her with a smile, blushing as she raved over your dress. Idle conversation passed between the group, and you remained generally silent, listening in and chuckling at all the right moments. It was quiet enough and only slightly boring.

“What’s this whole gala celebration for, anyways?” one coworker of yours - Beth - asked. Her cheeks were rosy, clearly having been through a few drinks at that point. Ingrid pushed a glass of water in her direction. 

“To recognize the accomplishments and importance of all the DSO agents,” she recited, remaining fairly monotone. You couldn’t help the snicker building in the back of the throat. Even Ingrid thought this was stupid - and that was saying something.

That itchy feeling of being watched washed over you suddenly, and you drifted away from the conversation. Lifting your head, you swerved back and forth until the offending pair of eyes were found.

Leon was standing in another group, all while his eyes remained focused on you. It was clear he was ignoring every word, as his lips twitched, and he flicked his fingers to the side in one of the ‘secret gestures’ you’d come up with over the years. Nodding your head, you watched his grin widen before he excused himself from the conversation.

It didn’t take long for him to arrive at your table with a drink in either hand. You took your designated cocktail from him, offering your thanks and stealing a sip of his whiskey. Leon rolled his eyes, moving to elbow you softly in the side, though you dodged away at the last minute. As you turned to face him again, you noticed his eyes flicker back up, from where they had been studying… something. 

You raised a playful brow, willing the onslaught of heat to stay away from your face. It didn’t listen.

“How many of those have you had?” you asked, walking with Leon across the room. The conversations were starting to exhaust you, and you hadn’t even been present for an hour. You took a generous sip of your drink, allowing the gentle burn of the alcohol to warm your throat. 

“This is only my second, mom,” he teased. You raised your hand up in surrender, before poking him in the side. It was easy, poking fun at each other and sharing those closer, tender moments that others wouldn’t even dream of. 

As the night dragged on, Leon drifted between your side and a few feet away. You lost count of the mindless conversations, the bored jokes from the other employees who didn’t want to be there either. You had only made it through your second drink, glancing over to notice that your friend was on the tail end of his fourth.

He seemed a bit more loose - as loose as Leon Kennedy could get at least. Some of the smiles, the laughs he shared with other guests seemed even genuine. It was a pleasant sight to see, one that others didn’t get very often. Genuine, carefree smiles like that were even an uncommon occurrence with you.

You hummed as Leon’s hand found your back, gently interrupting your conversation. It drifted lower as he settled beside you, forcing some of the breath from your lungs. In that moment, you wondered if he knew the reactions he elicited from you, if it was a game, a sign, or if he was just innocent and clueless. 

You didn’t get the chance to find out, as another man in a suit bumped into Leon’s arm, sending the last few sips of his drink spilling out of his glass, and straight onto your dress.

“Hey!” Leon snapped, turning to reprimand the offender as you muttered a silent curse, taking in the darkening amber stain against the pale fabric of your dress. Leon was quick to notice the stain as well, letting out a curse of his own as he searched for a napkin.

“Shit - I’m sorry.” Your name fell from his lips, his focus on removing the stain until you rested a palm on his shoulder.

“It’s fine, Leon. I can just get it dry cleaned,” you soothed, and he stopped his ministrations, though there was still a furrow in his brow. You glanced around the room, taking in the thinning crowd. “I think I’m ready to take off anyways. Are you good to drive?”

Leon paused for a moment, and you could see the gears turn in his head as he contemplated his level of sobriety. 

“Probably not,” he admitted, letting out a weak chuckle. At least he was honest. You shook your head, bidding your coworker a quick goodbye and making your way towards the exit doors. 

“C’mon, you can crash at mine.”

Leon followed behind you, muttering a quiet thanks as you lead him to your vehicle. It wasn’t the first time you’d let him sober up at your place overnight, though it was nice to see that he wasn’t overly drunk. He still seemed to have his wits about him.

Though he did seem particularly fond of staring at you while you drove.

“What is it?” You sent a glance to him from the corner of your eye. His gaze finally flickered away, towards the oncoming road as his lips pursed together. He seemed to be deeply in thought, and you glanced towards him a few more times before you stopped anticipating an answer.

You weren’t too far from your house, anyways.

“I’m really sorry about your dress,” he said again, and a quick glance confirmed he was looking at you again. You sighed.

“I promise, it’s okay.”

Leon was quiet, but his brows were twitching and there was a small frown on his face, as if he was truly upset about something. After a moment, you let out another breath. Maybe it was the way he’d been staring at you through the car ride, or at the gala. Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol in your own system. Or maybe it was just this build up of feelings you felt towards your friend of many years. The man who’d kept you sane, been alongside you at every achievement and fall.

“I only got this dress for you anyways.”

As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you begged God to return them. The silence felt loud, your clipped breathing turning into what felt like a scream. 

“What do you mean?” Leon asked, his voice was low, growing raspy. Conveniently, you’d just arrived at your home, and you pulled the car into the driveway before you could meet his eye.

Were you really about to admit your feelings for the man? In the car, clad in a stained dress that you’d bought purely in hopes of silently catching his attention?

“You’re my best friend…” your words were tight, the rest of them dying on your tongue as you met his gaze. He was looking so intently at you, blinking slowly, his own mouth moving as if he were running a list of thoughts through his head. 

And maybe he understood the words unsaid, because the next thing you knew, he was kissing you.

…

Leon had seen your room before. Many times, even. In the years you’d known each other, grown closer, Leon had seen nearly every aspect of your life. He’d seen your hungover mornings, your nightmares and your raging bedhead as you searched for coffee. He’d seen you fall apart and pick up the pieces to put yourself back together. Leon had spent many nights on your couch, even in your bed - on opposite ends with at least two pillows stuffed between you two. 

But Leon had never been in your bed like this before. Not with a lusty look in his eyes and his shirt split open to the last button. He propped himself on his elbows, watching as you kicked your heels to the corner of your room. By the time you’d made it to the foot of the bed, he was sitting up, gathering the skirt of your dress and bunching it upwards as he wrapped his arms around your lower back. 

“God, this dress. It’s driving me fucking crazy,” he whispered against your jaw. You had no time to be concerned by the slur between each word as his mouth found yours, capturing your lips in the messiest, sexiest kiss you’d ever received.

Your hands flew around his neck, streaking up into his hair. He hissed between your lips as you tangled your fingers between the darkening strands, scratching against his scalp and tugging at the ends. His teeth tugged on your bottom lip, his tongue briefly meeting yours before his kisses fell back to the corner of your jaw.

Leon pulled you forward, and you all but fell into his lap, the unexpected motion causing you to tug particularly hard at his hair. His head snapped back, but he made no indication of any pain. He merely groaned, tilting his head before he moved to suck a harsh mark into the side of your throat.

“Fuuuuck,” you breathed, letting your hands slide down over his shoulders, resting against his biceps. You felt them flex as his hands slid further up your back, dragging the fabric of your dress with it.

“Arms up,” he growled, and you listened. There was a brief loss of contact as the dress was pulled over your head, and as your arms fell back down to his shoulders, you couldn’t keep the blush from dusting across your cheeks. You opened your eyes, waiting to see Leon’s reaction.

But his gaze wasn’t on your breasts, your panties, or even the exposed skin of your stomach. His eyes were on yours, a little bit glossy and heavy with lust, but they held that glimmer; the softness that had been skipping your heartbeats for months, years.

You heard the fabric pile to the floor, and Leon’s warm hands rested on either side of your ribcage. And then he leaned forward to kiss you - gentle and warm compared to the searing ones he’d been offering to you all evening.

And only after that did his attention finally fall to your chest. His gaze darkened again, growing even hungrier than before as he wrapped one arm around you, using the other to brace the weight as he spun you to land on your back against the sheets. He leaned back, finally shedding the button down and offering you a moment to just look at him, clad in nothing but messy hair and a pair of black dress pants. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him back to the bed.

Leon fell over you, supporting his weight on his forearms as his lips attached to your collarbone. He left a mark just under the bone, trailing his lips downwards until he reached your breast. He ran his tongue flat against one perked nipple, tweaking it with his fingers before giving the other the same treatment. One of your hands returned to his hair, the other reaching under his arm to run your fingers along the strong muscles in his back. 

He dropped his hips, grinding his core against yours and drawing a gasp from your lips. Your sounds only seemed to spur him on, as he repeated the motion, his lips faltering on your breast as a ragged moan cut through his throat. Instinctively, you drew him closer, meeting his hips, and digging his face further into your skin.

With a growl, Leon bit down on the spot just above your breast. You whined, throwing your head back into the sheets. His hand traced down the length of your abdomen, teasing at the skin of your waist, the line of your panties, until finally, two fingers circled your clit through the fabric. You let out a long breath as his tongue prodded against your skin, your senses catching as he pushed the fabric of your underwear aside to trace along your entrance. 

“You’re such a tease,” you murmured against his cheek as he leaned up to kiss you again. You felt his grin on your jaw as one finger curled into you, wasting no time in prodding against that rough spot within you. You rolled against his hand, your clit brushing against the heel of his palm as he snuck another finger in, twisting and curling them together until you were panting, breaths hitching in your throat. 

Leon’s breathy laugh warmed your throat, as his lips traced and sucked deep marks into your skin. Your grip fell to his shoulders, digging your nails in which each curl of his fingers. Your hips jerked to meet his hand, driving yourself further into a pleasure-seeking daze. 

You muttered his name, and Leon tilted his head up to look at you. The lighting was dim, but you could still see the glassy, dazed look in his eyes. His gaze flickered across your face, landing on your parted lips, before his thumb curled against your clit, and you threw your head back as your release washed over you. 

Leon looked absolutely drunk on you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, his hand stuttering in its movements before finally pulling away from your core. With a whine, you curled further into him, brushing the top of your thigh against the front of his pants. He groaned, his teeth sinking into the corner of his lip as you traced your hands from his shoulders, down along his solid chest. You traced the ridges of his abs, your stomach twisting again at the hard edges in his muscles - you’d seen Leon shirtless countless times before, but never had you been able to appreciate his dips and curves in his kind of way.

His patience seemed to fall apart at the seams, because the next thing you knew he was bucking against your thigh, digging his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. He reached for his belt, freeing the buckle with a surprising swiftness and shimmying straight out of his pants.

“Can I?” he breathed against your neck. He was already prodding against your entrance, running the tip along your folds, your clit. With a gasp, you nodded, and he groaned. “Use your words, baby.”

Baby.

“Fuck- Just do it already!” you whined, and he wasted no more time in entering you.

Leon started with shallow thrusts, inching in deeper until he finally went flush against you. With a long exhale, he stalled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion, and based on the scrunch in his brows, to hold himself back from the edge he was teetering on. And then he fell over you, caging you in between his forearms, and his hips started moving again. 

Your senses were full - almost too full - because it was Leon. It was Leon and he was looking at you like the rest of the world meant nothing, and his lips were brushing against your shoulder and he was with you in the most intimate way. 

And you let out a breath in his ear that sounded a lot like a confession.

—

When you opened your eyes, your senses felt like they were fuzzy. It took a moment to fully recollect the events from the night before. A stain on your dress, Leon unable to drive home, the sight of his clothes falling to the floor.

An arm tightened around your waist, bare and incredibly warm. 

You felt Leon’s steady breaths against your hair, his nose digging between the strands. One of his legs was tangled between yours, and his also bare chest was flush against your back. He was still asleep, muttering incoherent gibberish under his breath as he seemed to snuggle further into your form. And it felt amazing.

You stayed unmoving and quiet in that position for a long few moments, your mind going over and over the night before, until Leon’s breath stuttered as he fell out of his slumber.

Your eyes were still closed when Leon shifted, a quiet grunt catching in his throat as he stretched. With your back to him, you could only hear the sharp intake of breath, feel the way his fingers brushed against your arm.

You heard the silent “Fuck,” under his breath.

There was something in that word, something with more substance. It was strained and low as if he was fighting against something. It sounded like that time he approached the president, laced with guilt over the bad news he was about to share. It reminded you of the time he’d really fucked up. Admitting to you how he’d thrown himself needlessly into a firefight, almost losing his life in the process. That guilt in his voice had your heart plummeting into your stomach. So you didn’t open your eyes. You didn’t move, regulating your breathing to the best of your ability.

Leon sucked in a breath, gently detangling his arms and legs from your own, and snapping the threads of your heart with them. You felt the soft structure of a pillow against your back as his warmth left the bed, and the sheets fell flat beside you. There was a flurry of steps around the room, another whispered curse. A short rustling of clothes and the ring of his belt. 

Another long, pensive breath.

You stayed firm. You didn’t open your eyes until you heard the soft click of your bedroom door shutting.

And you didn’t hear from Leon for six weeks.

@obsessedwithtoomanythings hi I love you

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil

[house-of-kolchek]

Okay buddy. I need a snippet of Leong. Please 🤣🤣🤣

Ohhohohohohoho

Get ready friends because it’s actually not at all what you’re thinking:

—

You grimaced at the security footage, watching as a figure missing too many limbs tackled a man in a dark suit jacket. Through the grainy footage, it was still easy to spot a sharp gleam in the attackers eyes, and the splotches of red and rot that decorated its face.

“When was this?”

“Yesterday evening,” Bailey replied, her eyes still trained on the screen. “Mr. Bidel was brought into the station after a call from his wife claimed he was threatening her with a knife. Four hours later… this.”

You sighed, glancing back to the screen as the video looped again, replaying the officer’s untimely death over again. No matter how long you’d been doing this, it still sent a wave of grief and sickness through you.

“So clearly it’s some sort of virus,” you started. It was obvious in the rotted flesh, the visceral, hungry attacks, so much like every other BOW you’d encountered before. “But who’s got their hands on it this time?”

Bailey turned to the computer screen, clicking the mouse a few times and projecting varied articles and photographs up to the large display screen. Your eyes flashers over the photo of a suburban neighbourhood. A factory. The words NEW RC plastered on a large sign.

“All directions point towards an Umbrella Copycat.”

Your heart felt like it was in your throat. You hadn’t been there in the initial Raccoon City incident. The fall of the first Umbrella. But you didn’t need to - you’d heard the stories, it was the literal reason you had this job. So this couldn’t be a coincidence - finding the RC initials and the word “Umbrella” within the same sentence. But…

“How did no one see this before?” you demanded. “It’s so obvious! Like - you see those initials right?” Wasn’t it the departments entire job to watch out for this kind of thing? Prevent those horrors from ever occurring again?

“Because this is likely one of the most secluded townships in the United States. It’s literally underground. It was sheer luck that the Bidels were on vacation when this occurred, and the processing went through a “public” station record system.” She sighed between the words, reaching to massage her temples. There was a strange sort of defeat from her posture, something you hadn’t seen before. It didn’t sit right with you.

“So what’s the plan then?”

Bailey met your gaze. There was something still unsaid there, something you found yourself suddenly afraid to hear.

“Mrs. Bidel hasn’t been heard from since the incident,” she sighed. “Her husband worked at the factory, and her interview indicated that they weren’t planning on returning home. We’re incredibly low on intel, but underground sources have managed an in. You’re going undercover as the Bidel’s… successor. You’re going to gather intel so we can put a lid on this before it erupts.”

Ohhhhhh there was a lot in those few sentences. Undercover. In the suburbs. Cut off from the rest of the country, to gain information about a nameless company that turns people into zombies and makes them disappear.

Sometimes you wondered why you kept this job.

“Something on your face tells me that’s not all,” you groaned, leaning back into your chair as she fixed you with a concerning sympathetic look. She shook her head, and suddenly your heart was in your throat again.

“The neighbourhood seems to maintain a particular… niche.” She trailed off, her nose scrunching with distaste. Another picture fluttered past the screen. A collection of happy looking couples, in full PDA mode all cuddled together with big smiles.

Oh god.

“You’re going in with a partner, to play the roles and properly fit in.”

When she didn’t continue, you cleared your throat.

“Who’s the partner?”

After a moment, she let out a long breath, uttering two words that struck an intimidated sort of fear into your heart.

“Leon Kennedy.”

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil #upcoming

[house-of-kolchek]

GUYS HOW COULD I FORGET LEON KENNEDYS BED

I was tagged by @prettyiwa!!

rules: post the names of the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it. Tag as many people as you have WIPs

Current WIP titles (these are all for JJK):

Chimera

Ice & fire chap 13

Sonrisa

Three wishes

The executioner

Kill me before you go

Is it really noncon if he’s hot

Bunny costumes were made for breeding its in the rules

These are the ones in my pages folder I probably have so many AOT drafts in Google docs that I won’t finish 😭 if you’re curious about any feel free to ask me hehe

Uhhhhh ignore if you’ve been tagged already & no pressure ofc!! @pu-re-love @brujaovermoxy @strawberrystepmom @suget @bloompompom @his-sweet-vixen @todoshoki @nagumoan + if anyone else sees this and wants to do it!!! ❤️❤️

[house-of-kolchek]

Ahhhh thank you for the tag!!

These are all for Leon Kennedy rn because of the CHOKEHOLD HE HAS ON ME THANKS.

Leong. I will not elaborate.

I need something original here

Hungry

Vanilla

Someone send me tissues because I’m crying right now

OK ALSO BONUS TWO MORE FOR VAXILDAN THAT MAY OR MAY NOT BE FOR MY LOVE @kawaiiwitch224

Fae pollen shit idk

Thief of a heart

All I ask of you is that you embrace my spastic file titles in the way I have 🥹

I love you: @chaosandbubbles @obsessedwithtoomanythings @kassiekolchek22 @uhlunaro @hugmekenobi @multi-fandom-imagine @lorebite

I was tagged by @prettyiwa!!

rules: post the names of the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it. Tag as many people as you have WIPs

Current WIP titles (these are all for JJK):

Chimera

Ice & fire chap 13

Sonrisa

Three wishes

The executioner

Kill me before you go

Is it really noncon if he’s hot

Bunny costumes were made for breeding its in the rules

These are the ones in my pages folder I probably have so many AOT drafts in Google docs that I won’t finish 😭 if you’re curious about any feel free to ask me hehe

Uhhhhh ignore if you’ve been tagged already & no pressure ofc!! @pu-re-love @brujaovermoxy @strawberrystepmom @suget @bloompompom @his-sweet-vixen @todoshoki @nagumoan + if anyone else sees this and wants to do it!!! ❤️❤️

[house-of-kolchek]

Here. It’s my heart. You’ve taken it. It’s yours.

And In Dreams, We'll Meet Again

Leon Kennedy X Reader

A/N: I have never played resident evil or watched anything other than random Leon Kennedy compilation videos but now I'm in love with him. I'm writing this for @house-of-kolchek who requested something angsty. I am not fully up on the lore of this game, so bear with me. I fell so much in love with this man that I am now going to watch playthroughs to bring you better content! In the meantime, I am very educated on Jason Kolchek and write for him a lot if you want to check me out! Also, I never write grief. I am usualy the fluff queen so this is new for me!

WARNINGS AND TAGS: Major character death, grief, angst, drug use, alcohol use, depression

Word Count: 2.6k

Main Masterlist

“AND how does that make you feel?”

How does that make me feel?

How does it make me FEEL?

How the fuck do you THINK it makes me feel?!

That’s what you would want to say, but you didn’t. You shut your mouth tight, jaw clenched as tears threatened to spring from the corners of your eyes. You pulled up your hoodie—his hoodie—around you, drawing warmth from it as your therapist stared at you with soft, unjudging eyes. You weren’t going to answer her question because it was a stupid-ass question, and she knew it was a stupid-ass question. 

“Y/n?” She prompted again, and you turned your icy glare on her, tears spilling down your cheeks as her blue eyes met yours. Blue eyes. Just like—like—

“It makes me feel fucking horrible!” You snapped at her, drawing away from her gaze, from her hand that looked like it yearned to place on you a comforting touch. You stared out the window, at the rain falling down the glass, at the horribly ugly gray sky that swirled just like your tumultuous emotions. “It’s been a month— a month—since I lost my fiancè! How the fuck am I supposed to fucking feel?!”

Your therapist was quiet, looking you over, before her eyes landed on the Raccoon City hoodie that you still adorned. The one that had never been washed. The one that you never took off. 

“Do you ever feel like maybe—just maybe—you’re not allowing yourself to move on?”

Your entire body burned at the question with anger. Or, maybe agony. Probably both.

“Fuck you!” You screeched as you got up from the couch, pulling your drawstring bag onto your shoulders and flipping her the bird as you made your way to the door. “It’s only been a fucking month since my fiancè fucking died! And you have the fucking nerve to say that I should be moving on?!” You scoffed at her, but you knew that she could see the tears that were streaming down your face, just as thick and heavy as the rain had suddenly turned outside. 

“I don’t fucking need this,” you decided, your mind likely running as you thought of all of the other ways that you could get over this grief. “I don’t even want to fucking be here!”

“This therapy is mandated by your job!” Your therapist yelled as you ran out the door, making sure to slam it shut behind you. 

“Yeah?!”  You called back, glaring heavily at the terrified receptionist. “Ask me how much I fucking care!”

You would probably never set foot in that office again.

⛈️

THE next time you went to therapy, you walked in sullenly, looking ashamed and a bit embarrassed about your actions two months prior. You couldn’t even really say what you’d been doing the past two months, living life in a fog, grief overwhelming. You’d know you needed to go back to therapy when you started having lapses in your memory, and, here you were, unable to specifically recall a single thing that you’d done since…since…

“Why don’t we talk about what happened? That night?”

Your eyes shifted slowly to your therapist and you shook your head.

“No,” you responded sullenly, pulling at the strings of his hoodie. What used to be his hoodie… “No. I don’t want to do that.”

“Tell me what happened, Y/n.”

“I–it—!” You didn’t know why it was so hard to recall, or why it was so hard to put into words. “He fucking died, okay?! My fiancè died. What more is there to even say?”

“Do you want to talk about how your fiancè died?”

“No.”

Your therapist leaned forward then, arms in her lap, bland, semi-blonde hair hanging over a shoulder. She looked almost like the girl you both once knew, the girl you helped save— “You know, if you never talk about it, you’ll never get to the root of the real problem. You’ll never be able to feel better.”

You choked back a sob, hands clutching the ends of his hoodie when you said:

“Maybe I don’t want to feel better.”

⛈️

This session your therapist decided to try something different. Instead of bringing up that day, you’d spent the entirety of the session talking about everything else about…him. How you met, when you started dating, when he’d asked you to marry him.

“That day was happy,” you recalled, a gleam and a tear in your eye as you remembered how beautiful you looked in your bright yellow dress, how Leon had been so happy. Happier than he’d ever remembered feeling before. “He was so, so excited. I remember that. Him feeling so excited. I remember everything about that day.”

“Were you both excited?”

“Yes, I—I think we were both excited. And happy. So fucking happy.” 

Your therapist smiled back at you and leaned back in her chair, seemingly satisfied with your answers. She was writing something in her notebook, her hair shorter than it had been before, you thought. And blonder. 

“And thinking about that day, it makes you happy?”

Your veins turned ice cold as suddenly, all you could think about was the fact that the love of your life was dead. 

“No,” you admitted, feeling the sobs begin to wrack your body. “No it makes me feel—I feel—”

“How do you feel?”

“I feel numb,” you interjected, and suddenly, your hands began shaking in what you thought was about to be a panic attack. Your breaths were coming in fast, shallow pants and you felt the overwhelming urge to scream. “I feel like—like I don’t exist. Like I’m nothing.”

The therapist tapped her pen against her notepad as she stared at you.

“Interesting.”

⛈️

“Let’s talk about the day that your fiancè died.”

“I already told you, I don’t want to do that,” you pushed back, leaning your back as far into the couch as you could without actually feeling it behind you. You stared at your therapist for a minute—having to look away from his eyes, so blue—and absentmindedly played with the ends of your hoodie. “I can’t remember much about it, anyways.”

“Still?”

“Yep,” you confirmed, watching as your therapist pursed his lips and shook his head. “Still.”

“What do you remember?”

“I remember that my fiancè died,” you bit back, uncomfortable feelings of grief and sadness instead of your comfortable numbness swirling around inside of you. “I remember that Leon is so far away from me, in a place I can never reach him. Is that what you want to hear?” 

“I don’t want to hear anything,” your therapist insisted, and for some reason, you thought his voice sounded just a little bit deeper. Something was weird today. Something felt off. “And besides, I’m not the one who needs to know anything. You are.”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” You questioned harshly, taken aback by how flippant and assertive he sounded at the same time.

“What do you think it means?” Your therapist responded cheekily and you scoffed, sick of these stupid games. Sick of these pointless therapy sessions that you probably wouldn’t even remember. You didn’t remember anything since—

“Whatever,” you hissed, staring out the window. It was foggy today. Just like your mind. You winced as something prickled at the back of it, something trying to convey some sort of message, or—or a warning, maybe. “Something’s…weird today.”

“Well, what did you do this morning?” Your therapist responded. You opened your mouth to respond, to tell him all about your morning, but the words got caught in your throat and you found yourself unable to respond. You tried as hard as you could to remember something, anything that you could have possibly done that day, but—nothing. Your mind was as cloudy as the weather outside.

“I—I can’t remember,” you admitted and your therapist hummed in agreement. Like he knew something that you didn’t. Something struck you as odd again, something felt…awful. You leaned in closer to him, eyes squinted as you examined his hair. Blonde, as usual. Eyes—scarily blue. Blue enough to remind you of—of—

“Something’s wrong,” you said again, clutching your chest. “Something feels really, really wrong.” Your therapist looked at you and scoffed.

“Well, your fiancè is dead, so, that doesn’t really surprise me.”

“No,” you argued, insistent that something had changed between your appointments. “Something is wrong with you. You’re…different than before.” And yes, that was it. Your therapist seemed…different. Something changed with him. 

But what was it?! Had he cut his hair? Or lost weight? Or—no, something else. It was more drastically different than anything like that. What was it?

“Different?” Your therapist asked. “Different how?”

“You’re…you seem different than before,” was all you could manage to say, because your brain, for the life of you, could not figure out what had changed. All that was thought was that something fundamental was shifting here, and you didn’t seem to put your finger on it yet. “You seem like a different person.”

“Hmm,” your therapist responded, shaking his head, as if he were analyzing something. “Interesting, indeed.”

⛈️

“Tell me again.”

“I already told you,” you groaned, picking yourself up off of the couch and pacing around the room. “A thousand times. We met in the spring. At a festival. He was there as some bonafide security. He thought I was cute. He asked for my number. I gave it to him.”

“Great,” your therapist responded, a smile on his face. “Now tell me about the day your fiancè died.”

“I don’t remember!” You screamed back, sick and tired of this stupid, stupid game that your therapist seemed to be playing with you. You could somehow recall every single instance you’d had with Leon from…before…but you couldn’t remember—you couldn’t quite recall—

“Where were you that day?”

“On a mission!” You screeched back, fingernails digging so hard into your palms that it looked like they could draw blood. “I followed him there, I told him it was because I didn’t want him to go alone. I knew how to shoot, I could fight—”

“Tell me about the day your fiancè died.”

“I DON’T REMEMBER!” 

“And why do you think you don’t remember?!” Your therapist was equally as aggressive now, standing up and matching your anxious, agonizing energy. “Why do you think that you can recall every specific detail about your lives together except for that day? The day that your fiancè died!”

“I don’t know!” You were sobbing now, sinking to your knees and clutching the fabric of your blood-stained jeans. Your—what? “I don’t know, I don’t know, I DON’T KNOW!”

“Yes, you do,” your therapist responded, and suddenly, his voice sounded familiar. Too familiar. “You do know.” 

Appalled, you lifted your head and rose to your feet and when you saw the man who stood before you, you gasped.

No. What? How?!

“Leon?” Your voice was timid, afraid, and you were shaking as you looked back at your therapist, your therapist who wasn’t that at all but Leon Kennedy. Your fiancè. Your fiancè who— “But you—you’re not—you’re dead, you died—you?”

“No,” Leon responded sadly, looking down at your form. Blood, seeping through your shirt. Dripping onto your pants. Blood, blood everywhere— “No, I’m not.”

It all came rushing back quickly, hitting you like a ton of bricks. 

“No,” you gasped, clutching at your chest. “Oh, oh no—”

“Tell me what happened,” Leon pushed and you were shaking your head, you were visibly upset, he could tell. You didn’t want to tell him. He didn’t want you to tell him.

“Oh, no—” A sudden rush of intense grief, of horribly immense pain all over his body. No, no he didn’t want to remember—

“We were infected,” you recalled, suddenly calm, and your hands wouldn’t leave your chest. Your beautiful, beautiful hands. “We—we made Ashley get cured first, and then you insisted that I go, and—”

“No,” Leon suddenly insisted, and the therapy room was gone. You were back—back in that place, back in that chair—and you thought that there might be tears in his eyes. 

“And you passed out. And when you woke up, Leon, I was—”

“No!” Leon was shaking, hyperventilating, as he clutched the table in front of him, looking very much like he was going to throw up at any minute. You looked back at him with sad, empathetic eyes—those bright, amazingly beautiful eyes that he loves so fucking much. Oh, fuck, those eyes—

“Leon, I have to,” you pressed, your voice broken with tears. “When you came to Leon, I was—it didn’t work on me,” you reminded him, and now he was clutching his head, trying not to hear, trying not to see it anymore. “I was too far gone, there was nothing that you could do—”

“NO!” And suddenly, he could see it all again. Ashley, sobbing over your dead body. Apologizing, telling him it didn’t work, your heart couldn’t take it—it stopped. He tried CPR. He tried everything but you—the love of his life, you—

You were dead. 

“Leon, it’s time to wake up,” you told him, and your bright eyes were gone. Glassy, grey, dead—

“Wake up, Leon. Wake up, wake up, wake up—”

⛈️

“Leon? Leon, wake up—”

The man shot up with a gasp, sweat beading down his forehead and sticking his hair to his face. He turned to the side of his bed—it smelled like shit in his room, understandably so, he hadn’t left it in days—and he spotted Chris sitting there, eyes slightly worried.

“Fuck, man,” Chris gulped, watching him warily. “You were doing it again. The dreams.”

“And you had to fucking wake me up?!” Leon hollered at him, chucking an empty glass across the room, unflinching as it shattered across his carpet. “That’s the only time! That’s the only time!”

“That’s the only time—what?”

“That’s the only time I can fucking see her!”

Leon’s body wanted to wrack with sobs but he shoved it down, clutching his hair in his hands as he rocked back and forth, trying to calm his body enough to go back to sleep. Just go back to sleep. When he was awake, it was hell—all he could see was your dead eyes, staring up at the ceiling, your clothes stained with blood, and all he could feel was the horrible, terrible fucking pain that accompanied the knowledge that you were fucking dead.

“It’s not real, Leon,” Chris said softly and Leon let out a tiny sob, his heart clenching. He knew it wasn’t fucking real. Of course it wasn’t fucking real. “Imagining her as the one that’s alive, using drugs to hallucinate her living without you, instead—it isn't healthy—”

“Ask me if I fucking care.”

“And do you honestly think that these…scenarios, these daydreams that you make up in your head—Leon, do you think that those are going to fucking bring her back?” 

Leon was quiet. He knew it wasn’t going to bring you back. Nothing could bring you back now. Nothing at all. 

He heard Chris shifting beside him. 

“We went through her apartment today,” he informed Leon and the man tried not to hear, tried not to care. “We found this. We thought you’d want it.”

His eyes moved without his consent and his heart broke when he saw it. Your favorite article of clothing. His hoodie. His stupid, old, Racoon City Police Department hoodie.

“Burn it,” Leon insisted, “or throw it away. I don’t fucking care.”

“Leon,” Chris pushed. “This was yours—”

“No!” Leon yelled, and it was coming back, the pain, the awful pain. “No. It’s not mine. It only used to be mine. It’s all only used to be’s, now. Throw. It. Away.”

And then he swallowed another pain pill and closed his miserable, blue eyes.  You were waiting for him there, after all.

forever taglist: @house-of-kolchek @lorebite @yeslieutenant @kassiekolchek22 @buttermykolchek @kawaiiwitch224 @ageofbajabule

[house-of-kolchek]

The Missing Key

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy X Fem!Reader Description: You come across Leon, who is trying to get a locked door open. Luckily, you have a key. But unfortunately for Leon, you are not going to give it up so easily. Warnings: Violence, Flirty Enemies (Mainly Y/N), A Pinch Of Nudity. A/N: For @lorebite. 💖 Word Count: 1k MasterList: 🖤 TagList: @lorebite, @mornandil. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

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I walked along the cliffside, dangerously close to the edge. I didn't fear death since I had no reason to. I watched the castle closely, studying all the details within its stone walls. I knew they had that girl in there, and they would force her to be one of their own. But that man wouldn't let that happen.

That man that I happened to run into on my travels..

He was pushing his shoulder into a big wooden door, his arm muscles flexing as he did so. I stood behind him, smiling and waiting ever so calmly — waiting for the perfect moment.

It wasn't that I wanted to stop him, nor hurt him in any way. I just wanted to have some fun, and fun was what I was going to get when he turned around.

He quit his weak attempts to open the door and let out a huff, before looking over his shoulder to see me standing in his line of sight.

"Who are you?" He asked in a deadpan tone, turning around and resting his hand so casually upon his pistol in it's holster, almost like a warning not to try anything funny.

I chuckled darkly while slowly stepping closer to the man, my heels clicking against the stone floor beneath us. His fingers slowly wrapping around the handle of his gun was not hard to miss, so I put my hand up in defense.

"So, you need to get into this castle?" I asked as I gestured to the door while standing in my place.

He let out a huff of laughter, "What do you think?"

"I think that door needs a key rather than a nice, broad shoulder to lean on."

"Yeah, no shit." He grumbled. "Too bad I don't have the key."

"Yeah, it's a shame you don't have the key." I smiled innocently while putting emphasis on 'you'.

"Do you have the key?" He asked as he raised a questioning brow.

"Hm, maybe I do." I said with a smirk. "Or, maybe I don't."

"I don't have time for these games." Leon let out an annoyed grunt. He took a step closer to me and I took a step back, my grin growing more and more mischievous by the second.

He took another step forward and I repeated his action backwards. His eyes made intense contact with mine as they narrowed, and I knew exactly what he was going to do.

Right as he lunged at me, I moved to the side, barely dodging his predictable attack. The second my feet touched the ground, I pulled my dagger out, pointing it in his direction.

"You think you're so tough?" I cooed mockingly. "Then go ahead; show me how tough you really are."

He let out a growl through gritted teeth as he pulled his gun out. He pulled the trigger in an instant and I successfully dodged the bullet by jumping up in the air, lifting my leg up high and kicking the gun out of his hand as I did so. He attempted to throw a punch but I quickly moved to the side and grabbed his arm, forcefully pushing him back against the wall and bringing my knife to his throat to push it against his skin — but not hard enough to kill him.

"Never bring a gun to a knife fight." I joked as he glared at me — his hands moving to my waist to try to push me back.

"I believe the quote was: never bring a knife to a gun fight." He corrected me before his fingers dug into my waist hard. He pushed me off of him but then, to my surprise, he turned us around so now I was the one with my back against the wall.

He pulled another gun out of the holster strapped to his other thigh and held it against my temple, the cold steel of the barrel soothing the slight headache I had gotten from the short battle for dominance that we had just gotten into.

"If you have the key, I suggest you hand it over right now." He threatened, rage deep within his eyes as they cut daggers into mine. I let out a seductively mischievous laugh, not taking his threat all that seriously.

"Aw, why so serious?" I mocked before biting my crimson lip. My hand moved between us — the backs of my knuckles skimming the rough fabric of his bullet-proof vest — before going to my zipper. My fingers clasped around the cool metal tab and slowly began to pull down, opening my skin-tight black jumpsuit to reveal the key hooked to the middle of my red lace bra.

He froze as his eyes — now darkened with lust — focused on my newly exposed skin, then peered up to gaze into my own. I winked at him and his cheeks turned a bright shade of red before the dumbfounded expression on his face turned back into a mean scowl.

He plucked the key from my bra and took a step back while I did my jumpsuit back up. Fixing my hair as he walked back to the door, I watched his back intently for a moment as he readjusted the key in his hand to push it into the keyhole of the door, much like something else that I knew would be pushing into my hole later on. But I had no time for that now, as much as I wanted to stay and play some more.

I began to walk away, but turned my head to look back at him over my shoulder.

"Oh! Good luck, Mr. Kennedy!" I called out and he turned to face me, a look of confusion and a hint of shock painted on his once so serious face. "You'll need it."

I then turned and walked away, letting my hips sway seductively with every teasing step I took. I ignored his voice calling out for me from behind as I jumped off the edge of the cliff. Little did he know that there was a ledge a lot closer than the full way down, just waiting to catch me. Like a cat, I landed on my feet before taking out my radio once I knew that I was out of Leon's sight.

"I hope that gave you enough time, Ada." I spoke into my radio as a dangerous smirk returned to my face while I began to walk away.

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[house-of-kolchek]

Jason's Panic Attack // Jason Kolchek Oneshot

Jason Kolchek X Female Reader

A/N: Okay this one is still one of my favorite things that I have ever written and I am very proud too announce that I have added an embarrassing amount of smut to the end of this that wasn't there before, so, if anybody dares to read this, I hope that you enjoy it! Again, this is a repost and I used to post under yellowroseskolchek before I invaded her body and now we post here so anyways. Don't steal our stuff, she gets kinda cranky when that happens and it makes me gassy.

WARNINGS AND TAGS: NSFW MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY, panic attacks, seemingly unrequited love, reader and Jason are best friends, roommate!Eric, unhealthy sleep habits, graphic depictions of anxiety, canon-typical violence, jealous!Jason, oblivious!Jason, graphic depictions of PTSD, brotherly-vibes!Eric, self-deprecating!reader, depression, paramedic!Jason(and don't get me fucking started on how HOT that is?!), anti-Rachel this time I'm really sorry, no really she is awful, if you're a Rachel fan run away right now this is not the fic for you, mentions of a previously infected!reader, mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts, guns, past flashbacks, Jason is sort of an idiot, self-sabotaging reader, oh yeah and swearing lol, defensive!Jason, men being idiots, mentions of divorce and cheating, love confessions, making out, hickeys, lingerie, breast sucking, fingering, orgasms, oral sex male receiving, blowjob, shower sex

Word Count: 12.4k yes i know sue me lol

Jason Masterlist, Main Masterlist

YOU were waking up in Jason’s bed, again.

And not in the fun way.

You groaned as you rolled over, off of Jason’s arm that was underneath your neck. You sat up, staring down at Jason—whose eyes were already looking up at you—and you returned his gaze with a soft smile on your face. He sat up, too, and you noticed that his eyes were bloodshot, like he hadn’t slept all night long.

He probably hadn’t; every time you ended up here in his bed, he stayed up all night to make sure you were alright. And it seemed to be happening more and more often these days—the nightmares, that is—and then you ended up taking the elevator up the five floors to the boy’s apartment, staring at their front door as you took a deep breath and gathered up the courage to dial Jason’s number.

Not like it was hard; you had it memorized, and even if you didn’t, he was your emergency contact. No, that wasn’t the hard part; the hard part was knowing that he’d answer midway through the very first ring, his voice sleepy but frantic as he made sure that you were alright. He’d ask if you were at the door, and if you needed to come in—even though he already knew that you were. The hard part was knowing that he did all of this—that he always let you in, that he always held you and made the nightmares go away, staying awake to keep watch over you all night long—yes, the hard part was watching him care for you whilst knowing with every fiber of your being that he would never love you.

Not in the way that you loved him. 

He’d been treating you like his little sister since you’d met him on your first day at base in Iraq—three years ago, now. You’d walked through the doors of Camp Slayer with nothing but an anxious look on your face and in your eyes; earning you the nickname that Jason still used to this day. Panic Attack.

“Hey, what’s the matter with you? You’re lookin’ a little jumpy darlin’,” he’d chuckled, leaning against the pillars once you’d entered the hall. He hadn’t been First Lieutenant, then—he’d earn that title a short three months later—and he walked over to you, cocking an eyebrow as he stared down at your anxiety-ridden face. “Y’alright there, princess? Ain’t ever been to war before?”

You snarled at that, your anxiety melting away as you turned your anger onto him. 

“Don’t call me princess,” you’d threatened, tilting your chin up defiantly, although your hands were still shaking. “And I’m plenty capable of doing anything that you can do.”

Jason had smiled brightly, his eyes gleaming at your words as he chuckled, shaking his head as he drew nearer to you. He shrugged, leaning his hand against the pillar right above your head as he leaned down over to you, nose-to-nose.

“Ain’t no doubt about that, Panic Attack,” he retorted, and although the nickname had made your blood boil at the time, it had quickly and pathetically become your favorite term of endearment. “Just makin’ note of how jumpy you are. You always like this?”

“No.” That had been a lie, and Jason had learned that rather quickly; anytime something new, noteworthy, or terrifying had come up, you panicked, becoming a blubbering mess of sweat, angst, and tears on the floor.

 Usually his floor, and so, ‘Panic Attack’ had stuck—but despite your enthralling woes of anxiety, even Jason couldn’t deny how badass you were in the throes of actual battle.

Jason’s little quips—his nicknames, his protectiveness over you, his way of seemingly always searching a room and finding you—had caught up to you, eventually. Everyone on base knew that you were his best friend, and that he was yours; but it had rapidly become more than that for you only a year after knowing him. And, in the two years that you’d been actively in love with him, he showed no signs that he felt anything for you beyond a friendship. Not even after what happened—a year ago. Down in those motherfucking caves…

You felt a shudder ripple through your body as you tore yourself out of past events and into the present where you were still safely sitting in Jason’s bed. At your visible discomfort, he sat up quickly too, eyes full of concern and quickly scanning over you for any injuries he may have missed before.

“Y/n? Y’alright there, darlin’?” You nodded, stretching out your arms above your head and noting the time on his alarm clock. 11:50 a.m.; you blanched.

“Shit—is that the time?” You screeched, rushing out of bed and bursting out of the bedroom, hurrying to the bathroom—where you kept a stash of your own personal shower stuff, which was okay with Jason but a nuisance to his roommate and your mutual friend, Eric. “Oh, fuck me! My shift starts in thirty minutes, fuck!” 

“Whoa there Panic Attack, calm down,” Jason assured, rushing after you and beating you to the bathroom, blocking the door so that you couldn’t get in. “You’re not gonna be late to work. I’ll go grab the clothes from your apartment and then I’ll drive you over, alright? Crisis averted.” He booped you on the nose with his finger as he smirked and you pouted, allowing him to wrap his arms around your tiny frame as he pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back and resting his chin on the top of your head. 

You closed your eyes as you rested your ear against his heart, listening to his heartbeat and allowing it to steady you with a sigh. “No, you’re not,” you argued, pulling out of his embrace and pinching him in the ribs where you knew that he was sensitive, successfully jolting him away from the bathroom door. “You are going to go back to sleep, because you didn’t get any last night—and don’t lie and tell me that you did, because your eyes are bloodshot right now, Jase.”

Jason’s mouth rapidly opened and then closed again as he realized that it was futile to argue with you, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m fine, Y/n,” he insisted, but as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth, he yawned. His face turned red in a beautiful spread of blush across his cheeks and you held in a dreamy sigh at the sight, feeling pathetic enough already. “Alright, so—maybe I’m just a little bit tired. But I can still—”

“Save your breath, Lieutenant,” Eric’s voice floated into the room, and soon enough, you saw his form walk in from behind Jason, his blonde hair messed in some severe bedhead and wearing nothing but flannel pajama pants loosely tied around his waist. The sight did nothing to you—you only had eyes for Jason—but you noticed that Eric’s presence seemed to set Jason on edge. You didn’t know why; since Eric and Jason had teamed up down in the caves, they’d become a strange sort of friends. You couldn’t think of a single reason that Jason would be upset with him. “I’ll drive Y/n to work. Go back to bed.”

“That won’t be necessary, Colonel,” Jason responded through gritted teeth and you rolled your eyes; partly because of Jason’s stubbornness, and partly because the two men still refused to call each other anything but their previous ranks. And you’d all been honorably discharged from the military, permanently, a year ago. “Y/n and I have a routine—”

“Yeah, yeah, but I’m her friend too,” Eric interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I can drive just as well as you can, Lieutenant. Better, probably, seeing as you got maybe one hour of sleep last night. Are you willing to risk Y/n’s life just because you want to drive her to work?”

“Fuckin’ dammit Colonel, I ain’t riskin’ her life—and can’t you put on a fuckin’ shirt or somethin’?!”

“Guys, shut up,” you interrupted, pressing two fingers to your temples and shaking your head. “You two are being ridiculous; Jason, Eric will drive me to work.”

“What? No—!”

  “You need to sleep, and I’ll come over straight after,” You continued speaking, shooting your favorite man a glare. “Okay? We can watch a movie tonight, and then I’ll go sleep in my own bed so you can not be a walking zombie at work. Alright?” 

Jason grumbled something that sounded like a forced agreement, but his second yawn interrupted whatever tirade he was about to go on. Pressing a small kiss to his cheek—not uncommon for the two of you, platonically—you beckoned him to his bed and then hurriedly hopped into the shower. 

You allowed the scorching hot water to heal your anxieties for far longer than you should have, considering the fact that you were already running late for work today. When you finally did get out of the shower, you took a minute to stare at your reflection in the mirror. 

The bags that always seemed to linger under your eyes were the first thing that you saw and, just like it always did, it made you wince; it had been a year ago yesterday since you’d all fallen down those fucking caves and you were still having nightmares every single night.

Most nights you could deal with it on your own; you would simply stay up, watch a happy movie and chow down on some popcorn and drink chamomile tea, trying to manifest a peaceful sleep back into your life (to no avail). Usually, those nights were the milder nightmares; the raid, falling down the caves for the first time, escaping Dar—the things that you’d felt hope in.

The nights that you couldn’t handle it yourself—the nights that had you outside of Jason’s apartment, begging to be let in—those were the heavy stuff. Jason, getting dragged down a hallway by a vampire; Jason, going after Salim and leaving you behind—Jason, pleading for your life once he’d found out you were infected by one of them, only mere hours after he’d ruthlessly shot Clarice—

That one. Fuck, that one always got to you the most and you always found yourself wondering why he’d done it. Why did he plead for your life? The two of you were close, yes, you had been each other’s right hands at this point but—why was he okay with taking the risk with you and not with Clarice? Why was he willing to risk not only his life, but the life of the team for you—and not for Clarice?

You’d never asked him because, frankly, you were terrified of the answer. You wondered if he regretted it at all; clearly you were here, and you were fine, but it was not without side effects. The nightmares, for one thing; and he dealt with that directly. Every time you ended up in his bed, in his arms, desperately seeking the comfort that only he could seem to bring you, he didn’t sleep. His sleep habits were as shitty as yours were now, and he was doing it all for you. Because he knew that you needed him.

But you knew that one day, he would meet somebody else who would need him. And he would love her, and he would choose her over you, because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you love somebody. And you would be left behind in the dust, never sleeping, holding yourself together through every nightmare and wishing that you were her.

Not because you needed Jason to face the nightmares, no; but because you loved him. Why wouldn’t you love him? There was literally nothing about him that you couldn’t love. Jason was loyal, he was kind, he was funny, he was sexy, he was caring, he was—everything. 

Fuck, he was your everything.

With a groan, you threw your towel bitterly at your reflection, noticing that Jason had wandered in at some point and hung your work clothes on the back of the door where you’d originally gotten your towel. Since you spent a decent amount of nights here, you had a designated towel and a place to hang your towel, and you never bothered to lock the door when you were in the shower. Neither boy really had much company—except for Eric’s new girlfriend, Shanae—and you knew that neither one of them would ever walk in on you intentionally. Eric had adopted you as a sister of sorts, and Jason—well, you knew where you stood with him. 

You hurriedly got dressed in your black shirt and black dress pants, your bright orange apron with the company’s logo stretched across it coming next. You put your hair back in your favorite way to look cute and keep it out of your face, throwing on a tiny bit of mascara and lip gloss that you’d kept stashed in the boy’s bathroom for exactly this occasion.

You cracked open the door to the bathroom to find Eric fully dressed, sitting on the couch and waiting for you with a book in his hands. When he saw you, he smiled, closing his book and walking over to ruffle your hair.

“Hey!” You protested, pulling away with a pout and shoving him away. “I just did that, you asshole!” Eric chuckled lightly, tossing a look towards Jason’s bedroom door, which was left open. The man himself was passed out haphazardly across his bed over the tossed covers, his eyes shut tight and mouth open as he slept. You smiled at the sight, wishing you could crawl back into bed and hold him while he slept—knowing that you couldn’t now, and that you probably couldn’t ever. 

You swallowed a gulp, following Eric out of the building and to his car with just the slightest twinge of sadness, a feeling that you knew all too well. You felt it every time you left Jason’s bed, and every time, you promised that you’d stop doing this to yourself. Stop putting yourself in this situation, stop allowing yourself to be hurt over and over with your own motherfucking idiocy.

“So,” Eric’s voice cut through your thoughts, holding the passenger door open for you and helping you in. When he rounded to the other side of the car, he continued his thought. “The silence here is very telling, Private.”

“Oh my g—just call me by my name already Eric,” you groaned, laying your head on the window and shutting your eyes against your impending headache. “I haven’t been a Marine in a year, and you haven’t been in the Air Force either. Don’t you think it’s about time to let it go?”

“Maybe,” Eric replied with a nonchalant air to his words, and you were certain that if you were looking at him he would have shrugged. “Y/n, I like to think we have a close relationship, so I’m just going to get straight to the point. You need to tell Jason how you feel about him.”

Your heart stopped—your head was spinning, and you suddenly felt like throwing up. Your eyes opened just as quickly as they’d been shut and you whipped your head over to Eric, whose face was conflictingly blank in opposition with his words. 

“How did you—I mean I—I don’t—”

“Y/n, this conversation will be a whole lot easier if you don’t deny that you’re in love with him,” Eric interrupted, turning over to you quickly and quirking an eyebrow. You opened your mouth to protest again, before realizing that it was useless. He could see right through you—as you assumed most everyone could.

“I can’t tell him,” you said instead, pulling your eyes away from Eric and out of your window instead, watching the cars on the freeway zipping by. “He doesn’t—he doesn’t feel the same way. And besides, what’s wrong with the way that things are now, anyway? Why do I have to tell him? We’re both happy with the way that things are.”

Eric was sullen and quiet, not unusually for him, and finally, after several minutes, he sighed heavily.

“I can’t tell you what Jason feels,” Eric spoke, his words sounding clear and calculated. “I don’t know exactly where he stands, Y/n. But I do know that what he feels for you is something deeper than a simple friendship, and I think you know it, too. Who does all that he does for someone that they only see as a friend?”

“But—”

 “Either way, even if he doesn’t feel the same way about you, you need to know, Y/n,” Eric continued, shooting you a sharp glare, as if you’d just interrupted someone with a higher rank than you—like you were both back in the military. “I just think that if you keep on going like this, you’re only going to get your heart broken. Wouldn’t you rather know and not continue to waste your time if he doesn’t love you back?”

“No,” you answered immediately, clicking your seatbelt and watching the strap snap away in front of you as it came undone, staring at the coffee shop in front of you. The same damn place you hadn’t seemed to be able to break away from for a year. “No, I wouldn’t rather ‘quit wasting my time’, Eric; I’d rather have Jason in any way that I can. Even if it’s just as a friend. Even if it actually fucking kills me.”

“Y/n,” Eric demanded, grabbing your hand, his brown eyes wide and incredulous. “You’re scaring me; between this self-destructive behavior with Jason, and your nightmares, and you’ve been losing weight—I’m worried about you; we’re all worried about you. Me, Shanae, I even talked to fucking Nick and you know how much I hate that pri—”

“Well you know what?” You snapped, retracting your hand harshly out of his grip. “All of you should just stop worrying, okay? I have everything under control. I may be younger than you, Eric, but I am still an adult, alright? I can control myself, and I know what I’m doing—okay? So just—just—just stop!”

You exited the car without another word, slamming the door behind you and wiping tears away from your eyes as you hurried into the coffee shop.

Fuck this day.

🌒

The day went by so slowly that time felt like it was literally dragging you behind it. You couldn’t stop thinking about your conversation with Eric, or the way that Jason had looked this morning when you left; exhausted. Utterly, and completely exhausted. And you couldn’t help but think: maybe he wasn’t just exhausted from lack of sleep, but maybe he was truly getting tired of you needing him all the time. Maybe Jason was finally hitting his limit.

You put on a brave face and a smile whilst at work, but inside you were crying out for help. You knew that Eric was right; you hadn’t been taking proper care of yourself, and you were dragging Jason down with you.

You knew that Jason didn’t have work today—he worked as a paramedic, and you didn’t want to talk about how fucking hot that was—and you found yourself absentmindedly wondering what he’d be doing instead. Would he go to your favorite bar? Would he meet a girl there? And, more importantly, had he met a girl there before?

You groaned again, hanging your apron up behind the counter so you didn’t accidentally take it home again. You hurried out of the shop after you’d clocked out, unwinding your hair from its tie and letting it run free. Your eyes brightened when you saw Jason’s large, white pickup truck sitting in the parking lot, the man himself leaning against the back of his seat and listening to something country and way too loud. 

You grinned, thankful that he’d come to pick you up instead of Eric, and hurried over to the passenger-side door, throwing it open and throwing yourself inside. Jason jumped, obviously not having seen you exit the building, but he smiled widely when he caught sight of you.

“Hey,” Jason greeted, reaching out to gently stroke a strand of hair and causing a murmur in your fucking heartbeat. “How was your day darlin’? Not too busy?”

“Pretty standard,” you sighed, smiling fondly at Jason’s soft face when he looked away to pull out of the parking lot. You found yourself staring at him and not out of the window like you had this morning with Eric, and you swallowed down a dreamy sigh at just how perfectly beautiful the man was. “How was yours? Did you get some rest?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yes, I did, but you know that I wouldn’t have minded drivin’ you to work, right? I never mind, Y/n. Gives me some extra time with you.”

His words made you flush, and a shiver ran down your spine; you often wondered how Jason could say things like this and not feel anything for you other than a basic friendship. You wondered if he knew what he was doing to you, or if he was, hopefully, more oblivious than the rest of your friends. 

“You needed the rest,” you insisted, licking your thumb and wiping a stray coffee stain off of his chin. He flushed, but he let you do it, not even stiffening at the touch of your hand. “Eric driving me just once didn’t hurt anything, Jason. Besides, he’s my friend too.”

“Yeah, but it’s different,” Jason argued, his chin hardset and defiant. You raised an eyebrow, a little scoff leaving your mouth at the man’s stubbornness—which, you had to admit, was very in character for him. 

“How is it different, Jason?” You responded, arms crossed over your chest as you demanded an answer. “Because I haven’t known him as long? That doesn’t mean anything, Jason.”

“The hell it doesn’t!” Jason pushed, eyes wide and incredulous as he looked back at you for just a split second before turning his attention back to the road. “Besides, it ain’t just that, Y/n. You spend more time with me, we’re…better friends.”

“Jason, he drove me to work,” you chuckled, unsure of why Jason was so jealous of Eric driving you to work, once. “It’s not like we did movie night without you, or went to our favorite bar or something. You know I only do those things with you.” And you know I’d continue to only want to do those things with you, too. Because I fucking love you, you dipshit.

“But you chose him to drive you to work, over me.” 

You rolled your eyes; for somebody who didn’t feel anything for you, he certainly got insanely jealous and protective over you to the point that you wondered if you were the oblivious one. 

“Jason—trust me when I say I would have preferred you to drive me to work, okay? I chose Eric because you spent the entire night watching over me instead of sleeping,” you explained, working your way out of your seatbelt and worming your arm through his, resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re still my favorite person in the whole world, rest assured.” 

You took a peek up at Jason’s face, noticing a small smile was pulling at the corner of his lips. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes once more, extending your legs and resting them on his lap as he parked in his favorite parking spot in your complex. Jason shut off his truck and turned to you, chuckling when you unbuckled his belt for him and cuddled you into his side, the two of you delaying the walk upstairs by staying in the truck for a beat too long.

“Did he at least put on a fuckin’ shirt when he drove you?” Jason asked and you laughed out loud, shaking your head in incredulity.

“Obviously, Jason, rest assured Eric was wearing a shirt when he went out in public.” Jason didn’t respond, and you felt your eyes fluttering shut as he stroked your ribs with his fingers absentmindedly, your head under his and you struggling with the urge to reach up and kiss him. 

“Nick’s comin’ into town tomorrow,” Jason informed you, and you perked up, lifting your head to look at his face. 

“Really?!” You asked excitedly. “Kay’s coming to visit? Why the fuck didn’t he tell me?” Jason avoided your gaze and you frowned; something was going on here.

“Rachel’s comin’, too,” Jason announced and your heart fell in disappointment. You’d known that Nick and Rachel had started dating again, but you never realized that he would want to bring her here. Not with you and Eric both living here. 

Suddenly, and without your consent, your brain was assaulted with nightmares—memories, actually, and you felt the sudden urge to throw up the nothing that you’d eaten today.

“...What happened? A sickness? A madness?”

It had certainly felt like you were sick—that you were going mad, as well. Your head was ringing, and it burned, like somebody was burning your brain from the inside out. You felt nauseous like you’d never felt before—like there was something moving inside of you that you needed to get out, desperately. Like, suddenly, you were no longer in control.

Salim was still speaking, you thought, but you could no longer hear words—just the hum of his voice turning into a strange, twisted melody inside of your head. The realization had dawned on you at that moment, you remember, what was happening to you. You’d been bitten during the assault, but you didn’t think anything of it. Now, though, you knew better, and you were anxiously watching the white phosphorus that was on the table. 

“They waited for us.”

You couldn’t take it anymore; the pain, the feeling of something moving around and invading your body, the fucking burning. You felt a scream rip through your throat and you had fallen to your knees, your hands clutching the white phosphorus that you hadn’t even realized you’d grabbed. 

“Shit!” You heard Nick exclaim, and Jason rushed towards you—only to be held back by Eric.

“Don’t,” he commanded, and you remember his face, a deathly, pale white. “She’s holding…she has…” 

He couldn’t even finish his sentence but you saw Jason’s face pale and you knew that he’d seen the phosphorus then. You knew that he knew what was going to happen; you were going to kill yourself, to save them. To save him. You were going to lose each other to this. 

You were hyperventilating, you thought, and you could hear Jason desperately calling out your name, sounding terrified and despairing. Nick, who had been your friend for some time now, too, knelt in front of you cautiously, likely knowing that Jason was too hysterical to be trusted.

“Y/n, look at me,” Nick prompted and you did, your eyes teary, wide, and frenzied. You were writhing, your hands clutching at your head and you heard your pathetic shrieks and moans as you felt it moving inside of you, eating you from the inside out. 

Jason had broken free of Eric’s grip and pushed Nick aside, careful not to get too close on the off chance that he accidentally set off the phosphorus. His face was terrified and hysterical, and his eyes pleaded with you to keep looking at him—so you did.

Even back then, you loved him. No one else had quite the pull on you that he did.

“Y/n, please listen to me,” Jason begged, his Southern voice deep and desperate. “Please don’t do this, I—I know you’re scared, but I’m gonna get us out of this, I fuckin’ promise you, okay? Please, I know it seems impossible right now, but just—”

“Jason,” Nick interrupted, as soon as he’d realized that Jason didn’t know. He hadn’t figured out what was going on yet. “Jason, listen—”

“She has it,” Salim interrupted, and you remembered how he’d looked down at you with such horror in his face, and pity in his eyes. “It’s inside her.”

“What?” Jason questioned, shaking his head wildly. “No, what the fuck are you—”

“She’s fucking infected, Kolchek!” Rachel had hissed at him, grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him away from you. “One of those things bit her, and now she’s turning into one of them; just like Clarice!” 

You watched as Jason’s eyes widened and his normally tan face turned a sickly pale, his eyes never once leaving yours. If you thought about it hard enough, you could imagine that he was thinking of poor Clarice—of what had happened to her, just hours before—and how he’d shot her mercilessly without a second thought. Because he couldn’t take the chance; he needed to save everybody else, and she had become a liability. An unknown. And we couldn’t have that.

Looking into his eyes, you knew he’d do the same to you now.

You knew he had to.

And that’s when the vision started.

A burning spaceship, with the head of a monster, heading straight towards Earth as it burned slowly. Aliens; they’d come from another world. 

You didn’t even spare another thought or breath on that as you settled the phosphorus between your knees, tears streaming down your face, and brandished your pocket knife. You didn’t have a choice; you couldn’t let Jason kill you. You couldn’t bear to let him live with that trauma. 

You had to do this yourself. 

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, looking straight at Jason—who was trying to rush you, but being held back by Salim and Eric, not without a fight. 

You wanted to tell him you loved him then, but you didn’t; you knew that would only be cruel to him. Instead, you tore your eyes away from his face and stared down at the phosphorus, the knife in hand, ready to blow yourself up.

But you didn’t; you couldn’t. Your hand just wouldn’t fucking move, despite what your brain was telling it to do. 

Your knife clattered to the floor and you sobbed, breathing in and out as you attempted to steady yourself. Jason was released and he hastily ran and picked up your knife, pocketing it and taking the phosphorus from your hands in the event that you tried that again.

You wanted to reach out and touch him—a hug, a brush of the hand, anything—but it was at that moment that the burning started up again. You doubled over and wailed, Jason right by your side as he pushed your hair back from your face and held you, tears streaming down his own face, his own breath coming in pants as he panicked. 

You were likely going to die—you knew that—so you turned to Jason as Nick held up your other side, both men frantic. 

“They came from the stars,” you spoke, staring straight into Jason’s frightened eyes, hoping that he was listening to every word that you were saying. “This isn’t their home; it’s an ark.” 

You suddenly began to buck viciously, and you weren’t sure if it was you or the thing inside of you controlling your body. All you knew was that it hurt, and you needed to go. You just needed to go. 

“Do something!” Nick turned and looked at Jason, the dubbed leader of the group. “She’s turning into one of them!”

“Hold on, baby girl, you have to hold on!” Jason pleaded, his deep voice husky and maniacal. “Please, Y/n—hold on for me. Hold on for me!”

“It’s…killing…me,” you managed to croak out, attempting to inform Jason of the severity of the situation. They had to act now, and they had to act fast—because if they didn’t, you were going to be one of them and put them all in danger.

You should’ve used phosphorus.

“Jason, put her out of her fucking misery!” Rachel screamed at him, trying to pull him away from you but he wouldn’t budge, his teeth gritted and tears streaming down his face. “Fuck, Kolchek; I’ll do it!” 

“We can still save her!” Nick insisted, and Jason whipped around towards Rachel, his body taking a protective stance over you. 

“There’s got to be a way,” Jason growled at her, his arms grasping you and putting himself in front of Rachel’s gun. “I can’t lose her!” 

His voice had sounded so terrified, so distraught—and you wondered why he hadn’t reacted this way with Clarice. Why was he so okay with letting you live—when he’d been so adamant that Clarice needed to die?

“You should know better than anyone that there is no other way, Kolchek,” Rachel barked back angrily. She moved her gun, past Jason, aiming it right towards your head. “Nick, hold her down.”

“No!” Jason argued, throwing himself back in between you and the barrel of the gun. “No, there ain’t no way we’re shootin’ her!” 

“‘It’s time to think like a Marine, Jason!’” Rachel snarled back at him, her voice unusually tight and shrill. “You need to take your emotions out of it—isn’t that what you said to me about Clarice?! When you fucking shot her?!!” 

“Fuck you, this is different!” Jason’s voice was high, tight, and emotional. All of a sudden, you felt purpose. Hope. You weren’t sure if it was the way that Jason was so protective of you, or that the prospect of losing you made him so emotional, but suddenly, you wanted to live. You didn’t want to die—not like this. Not today. 

“Rachel,” you managed to croak out, and the vision behind your eyes was beginning to get blurry. “Don’t…do it. Please; don’t kill me…please.”

Rachel’s eyes wavered over to you for a second—just the splittest of seconds—but you could see the indecision behind her eyes. 

“I have to,” she insisted, but her voice was cracking under her emotions. “You know that I have to.”

“It’s me, Rachel,” You continued to plead, pushing up past Jason and staring into her amber eyes, pleading for your life. “Please…put down the gun.”

It was at that moment that Jason hopped up, not as certain about Rachel’s humanity as you were, and knocked the gun out of her hands. He pushed her back, holding the gun to her instead, as he ordered her aside.

“Step aside,” he commanded, and she did, shaking her head incredulously. “Step the fuck aside and get the hell away from her!”

“You’re insane,” Rachel told him with a hiss. “She’s going to kill us all, and you’re going to regret this.”

“Salim, watch Rachel,” Jason ordered, and the man did, standing between her and you as Jason turned back to you, hope, caring, and compassion in his teary eyes. “Y/n, sweetheart, I’m gonna find a way to save you. Alright?”

“Why?” You’d questioned, wrapping your arms around Jason’s neck as you held on tightly to the man who had become your literal lifeline. “Jason, why—why me?” There were so many other words that you wanted to say, so many more things, but your mouth couldn’t formulate the things that your mind was currently running in the background. 

Jason’s Adam's apple had bobbed as he stared down into your eyes, his own eyes full of—emotion, of some sort, although you were having a hard time making it out. He pressed a hard, clinging kiss to your forehead and as he pulled away, he said, “Because we’ve got to have hope.”

For some reason, you had the feeling that he’d wanted to say something else. 

He’d tried to carry you to the cocoons that Salim had suggested, but you didn’t get far enough; you writhed out of his arms, and Eric had suddenly remembered the UV light—you still remembered how awfully intense the heat had felt held up to your body—and he burned you, until the parasite exited through your mouth and you were cured. 

This fact had been confirmed by supernatural health professionals after you’d all made it out of the caves; you were not infected anymore, and nothing was wrong with you. 

What Eric had done had worked, and Jason and Nick were right. You could be saved, after all.

Rachel had never gotten over the fact that you had survived while Clarice did not; and you hadn’t really gotten over her nearly killing you down in those caves. When it was all said and done, she’d left Eric and reconnected with Nick, the two of them beginning an official relationship. Suffice to say, Eric wasn’t exactly her biggest fan either.

“Y/n?” Jason’s voice cut through your thoughts, destroying the memory that haunted your dreams. “Y’alright in there? Where’d you go?” 

“Sorry,” you rushed out, shaking your head and steadying your breathing. “Um, Rachel’s coming? Well, just tell Nick that if he wants to see me, that maybe we should do it—”

“Actually, they’re comin’ to go to dinner tomorrow night with Eric and Shanae,” Jason interrupted, and it was clear that whatever he wanted to say, that he wanted to get it over with. He never cut you off when you were talking. “And Eric wants me to go to be a sort of a buffer between the two couples and—fuck, Y/n, I know that this is sort of a hard ask, but—will you come with me? I can’t fuckin’ stand the thought of bein’ a fuckin’ fifth wheel between those three idiots.”

You perked up at the question; did you really want to go have dinner with Rachel of all people? And did you really want to help be the buffer between two bitterly divorced people, a new girlfriend, and the man that Rachel had had an affair with? No, not really, but you also couldn’t let go of the fact that Jason was essentially asking you to be his date for the night. 

Emboldened by some newfound courage, you cleared your throat and asked, “Like, um—like as your date?” You looked up at his face and saw the shock that registered there, immediately feeling the anxiety flood your system as you realized that you’d completely misinterpreted the situation. 

“What?!” Jason questioned, and you could hear the confusion in his voice. When he scoffed like what you’d said was ridiculous, your heart broke again. “No, Y/n that’s—no. We’re just friends, we’d just be going as—friends. It ain’t anythin’ else, Y/n, why would you think that?”

“No—no reason.” Fuck, you could hear the tears getting choked up in your throat. “You know, Jase? I’m actually not feeling so well, so I think I’m going to head on to bed. Can we do movie night on a different night?” Jason opened his mouth to answer, but you didn’t give him the opportunity. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. Text me the address and I’ll meet you there, okay?”

“That’s ridiculous Y/n, I can drive you—” 

“No, don’t worry about it, I’ll meet you there,” you insisted sternly. Pulling yourself away from his hold, you hopped out of the truck and hurried upstairs, praying to every God you could think of that he hadn’t seen the tears streaming down your face when you’d left. 

You couldn’t believe yourself; why had you fucking said that?! How stupid were you? Of course, it wasn’t a date—Jason didn’t think of you that way.

It would never be a date.

🌒

JASON had no idea what the fuck he had done to piss you off last night, but here he was the next morning, trying to puzzle it over. He was no idiot, but he really couldn’t figure this one out; you’d seemed to get jumpy after he’d mentioned Rachel, but you’d left once he’d reassured you that this wasn’t a date.

Had you wanted it to be a date? No, that was almost laughable; you didn’t think of him that way. You’d never been into him that way, and it wasn’t a line that the two of you ever even thought about crossing. Still, you’d never made a comment like that before, and he’d wondered just what he’d done to make you worried that he was hitting on you. He never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable by forcin’ you into somethin’ more, but clearly, he had come across that way.

Fuck.

His only hope was that you’d stormed off because of the mention of Rachel, but he knew deep down inside that it couldn’t have been that—so, here he was, hoping and wonderin’ if you would still show up tonight—if you were gonna feel awkward around him, thinkin’ that he wanted to be more than friends with you. 

And he didn’t want anything more; at least, he thought he didn’t. He genuinely liked where your relationship was at now, he loved having you as his best and closest friend! Even if sometimes, he maybe got the urge to kiss you when you were bein’ cute and you didn’t even know it. Or if he’d almost told you on more than one occasion how fuckin’ beautiful you were—or, if he sometimes wanted to throw you onto his damn bed and show you just how well he could really treat you if you just gave him the fucking chance—

Fuck, no, he reminded himself, shaking his head and pulling on his dressier clothes for the night. That wasn’t a line that the two of you ever crossed, and he wasn’t about to start thinkin’ about it tonight. He valued you; he valued your friendship, and he wasn’t about to throw that away just ‘cause he sometimes wondered how it would feel to have sex with you. Just ‘cause sometimes, he wanted to. 

Jason reached for his phone to call you, confirm that you really didn’t want him to drive you over with him, but you didn’t answer. After a string of curse words, he just pocketed the damn thing with a sigh, headin’ to his truck alone with his own anxieties. 

It took less than ten minutes to get to the restaurant, and he found Eric and Shanae waiting outside for him, both of them looking too visibly tense to go in by themselves. Jason rolled his eyes and waved at them, trying not to laugh at their collective sighs of relief when they saw him approaching. 

“Hey guys,” Jason greeted, clapping Eric on the shoulder and giving Shanae a small side hug. “Y’all seen Y/n yet tonight?” 

Eric and Shanae shared a look of confusion that made Jason’s heart drop into his stomach; had she said something to them? Was she no longer comin’?

“We assumed she’d be riding with you,” was the only thing that Eric said in reply and Jason frowned, shaking his head.

“No, she—she said she wanted to drive herself tonight,” Jason reiterated, still feeling the same stab of hurt that he’d felt last night when you’d said it. He shook it off, just like he always did, and headed inside with Eric and Shanae, the latter seeming anxious to get this night over with. Jason couldn’t blame her; she was meeting her boyfriend’s ex-wife, who he had a long and complicated history with. 

Eric had just recently told Shanae about what had happened to them a year ago in Iraq and, miraculously, she believed him. Jason hadn’t asked for details on how or why, but figured he must have met some miracle woman who didn’t question the insane too much. 

Salim had recently gotten remarried—they’d all flown out to Iraq for that, minus Rachel—and even he hadn’t spoken about the incident to his new wife. 

“Jason!” Nick’s voice boomed throughout the restaurant and Jason grinned at his buddy, hurrying over and giving him their version of a bro-hug. If Y/n were here yet, she’d have laughed and made fun of us, like she’s done so many times before. “Oh man, it’s been too long, buddy. How the hell are you?”

“Yeah, ‘bout a year since we’ve seen you in person,” Jason reiterated, trying not to think about the state they were all in a year ago. “Been good. Busy workin’, mannin’ that EMT shit. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, and then the rest of his free time is spent with you-know-who,” Eric interrupted with a roll of his eyes, and it was clear to Jason that talking about you and him was going to be the way they chose to get through this little dinner party. “He’s probably with Y/n more than he’s at work, don’t let him lie to you.”

“Ah, well that doesn’t surprise me,” Nick laughed, and they all sat at a nearby table, leaving an open seat next to Jason for you, whenever you decided you were going to show up. “Those two were glued to the hip from the moment Panic Attack arrived on base.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Shanae whispered, gesturing softly to the front door of the restaurant. Jason looked up—half-wishing he hadn’t, honestly—because when he saw you, his heart stopped.

He’d seen you dressed up before, but not quite like this; a tight, black dress was fitted over your body, barely compressing your curves and leaving little to the imagination. It was made of leather—and fuck he didn’t even know that he liked leather—but after seein’ you in that motherfuckin’ dress, he fuckin’ loved leather. 

 You’d curled your hair in the way that he’d always loved and you had adorned your eyelids with makeup that made the color of your eyes vibrant, making Jason feel slightly weak in the knees. As you approached, he stood from his chair like the perfect gentleman, a smile on his face as he pulled your chair out for you and you sat down with a measly sigh.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our little Panic,” Nick teased and Jason noticed how your glare towards him was fake, seeing the glint in your eyes at the familiarity of Nick’s use of the nickname. You rolled your eyes at him but you smiled when he came over to your side of the table and gave you a hug. Jason noticed that you were watching Rachel warily, but it seemed like Rachel didn’t notice, as her eyes were currently glued to her ex-husband. 

“Kay,” you’d giggled, sending Nick a soft smile as he made his way to the other side of the table again. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Y/n, you look—wow,” Jason whispered as you turned over to him, a panicked, blanched look on your face as he said the words. Jason gulped, weighing the pros and cons, but ultimately decided to push his luck. “Seriously you—you’re stunning. You’re the most beautiful person here.”

There was a smooth, even blush fanning out across your cheeks but you only nodded your head in thanks, turning away from him awkwardly. The odd interaction only worried him more, and he began to panic as he wondered just what the fuck it was he did to make you act this way. And if whatever he did was fixable, or if he were actually losing you, his best friend, over it.

You exchanged pleasantries with the rest of the group, and the night had seemed to be moving along smoothly; although Jason noticed that you seemed to be consuming more alcohol than dinner tonight. You were oddly quiet—usually, you were the life of the party, gluing everybody together—but you could barely answer a simple question tonight, and Jason could sense that something was seriously wrong. 

Eric, Rachel, and Nick seemed to be getting along well, although Jason could tell that everyone was far more interested in your mood, obviously noticing how strangely you were acting tonight. Nick even kicked Jason under the table, gathering his attention, before he subtly gestured to Y/n and mouthed, “What’s wrong?!” Jason had just shaken his head, just as confused as his friend was. 

Shanae had finally had enough at one point or another, because she smiled sweetly at you and asked, “Y/n, are you alright? You’ve been rather quiet tonight.”

“Yeah, usually I can’t get you to shut up,” Jason chimed in teasingly with the hope of getting you to cheer up, expecting you to do what you always did—poke him in the ribs where he was sensitive, or rib him right back as the two of you laughed about it, maybe even giving him a small kiss on his cheek like you sometimes did.

Instead, you turned to him, a mighty glare in your eyes as you answered, “Well geez, sorry, Jason. I didn’t realize that my voice was such a turn-off to you.” 

Jason’s mouth dropped open and he physically recoiled, shocked at your loathsome reaction to his simple jokes. 

“Whoa, sweetheart, I was just kiddin’,” Jason defended himself with wide eyes, his hands thrown up in the air. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings—”

“Oh, please, you and I both know that my feelings are the least of your concern,” you’d snapped back, and Jason’s jaw dropped open in shock, his heart clenching at the accusation you’d just thrown at him. Rachel took a comical drink of alcohol, her eyes wide, as she pretended not to watch the show that you were suddenly putting on for everyone.

 Shooting the rest of the table a this isn’t for your eyes, glare, Jason scooted his chair closer to you, leaning in so that he could speak to you quietly. He hoped that you would follow suit, knowing that if you caused too much of a scene, you’d be incredibly embarrassed once you found yourself sober.

“Y/n, what the hell?!” Jason whisper-yelled, hurt and enraged that you would say something like that to him. What the fuck did you even fuckin’ mean he didn’t care about your feelings?! He stayed awake all night, multiple times a week, because of how much he fucking cared about you. Where the fuck was this coming from? 

“What the fuck is up with you tonight?”

You only glared back at him, your eyes shining with what he thought were tears. 

“Can’t I just be a little quiet sometimes, Jason? Do I always have to fill the awkward silences for everybody? Am I not allowed to feel a little bit off?” You were rambling now, and tears were flowing down your face freely as you shouted back at him. 

“No, darlin’, of course you can, I just—tell me what’s buggin’ you,” Jason pleaded, shaking his head in confusion. “Let me help you, or fix it, or even just make you feel better—”

“It’s not your fucking job to make me feel better,” you retorted with a hiss, pushing your chair away from him and throwing your napkin down onto the table. “Okay? So just—quit trying.” 

The two of you had forgotten about the others at the table, too wrapped up in your own melodrama to care that you had an audience. Jason was so worried about you—so worried that he was losing you—that he really couldn’t give a fuck who was listening right now.

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?!” Jason hissed back at you, pulling his chair back to you again to regain some semblance of privacy. “That’s fuckin’ ridiculous, Y/n, I’m never gonna quit tryin’ to help you—”

“You are not my boyfriend, Jason,” you clapped back, standing from the table and putting distance between the two of you. “So just, stop—stop acting like one and let me go. Please, just, let me move on!” 

A heavy, awkward, tense silence filled the room after you’d shouted the words, and all Jason could do was watch your chest heave up and down as you attempted not to hyperventilate.

Jason stood from the table too, but he froze at your last sentence, his mouth falling open in shock and confusion. He opened his mouth to say—something, anything, he didn’t fucking know—but he couldn’t force any words to come out. 

“Y/n, let me drive you home,” Rachel offered, standing from the table and putting herself in between Jason and you. “You’re in no state to drive right now, and Nick will come pick me up later.”

Jason saw you nodding frantically, pressing your hands to your eyes as you wiped tears away from them. 

“Yeah, that’s—yeah,” you agreed readily, grabbing your purse and reaching for your keys to toss to Rachel.

“Wait—no,” Jason interrupted, stepping in between the two of you and attempting to get you to look at him. You refused, your face turned down and away, even though his eyes were pleading for anything that you were willing to give him. “No, Y/n, I’ll drive you, please—we need to talk about this—”

“No.”

Your answer—short, firm, and upset—shocked Jason to his very core and he felt his eyes stinging, his heart dropping into his stomach. He shook his head, unable to understand your simple command, and he stepped closer to you.

You stepped away.

“Y/n, please,” Jason pleaded, dropping his hand between you as he held back a shaky breath. “You’d rather go with Rachel than me right now? Are you serious?”

You didn’t answer him, your only movement was one towards Rachel as you handed her your keys with a sniffle. “Can we go now, please?”

“Yes,” Rachel answered, nodding resolutely at Jason. “Let’s go.”

Jason’s heart broke as he watched you walk out of the restaurant with Rachel—a person whom you despised—instead of leaving with him. Your best friend.

What. The. Fuck?

His head was reeling; he had no idea what had just happened and therefore, he had no idea how to fix it. What the fuck had changed in the past twenty-four hours?

“Jason?” Eric’s voice was even and calm, but Jason had a feeling that it wasn’t going to stay that way for long. If there was anybody that was as protective over you as Jason was, it was Eric. Well, not as protective. Jason took the cake on that one, but, still. Eric tended to think with his fists and not his head when it came to you, too. 

“I’m going to ask you this exactly once,” Eric continued. “What the fuck did you do to Y/n?” Immediately, Jason felt defensive, rounding on Eric with a finger in his face and a snarl on his lips.

“I didn’t do fuckin’ anythin’,” Jason growled at him, shoving him back with a hand as Eric rolled his eyes. “Where the fuck do you get off assumin’ that I had anythin’ to do with this?!”

“No offense man, but whatever that was, it had everything to do with you,” Nick interrupted, sharing a concerned look with Eric. Since when were the two of them fuckin’ friends?! “Did something happen between you two?”

“NO,” Jason persisted, pressing his hands to his temples as he began to get a headache. “Everythin’ was fuckin’ normal until—last night?”

“Y/n didn’t come over last night,” Eric argued, crossing his arms over his chest and Jason rolled his eyes.

“What the fuck, Eric, are you the Y/n police now?” Jason asked sarcastically, and Eric glanced back at Nick again. The sight of them looking at each other, like they had some stupid sort of secret about him that he wasn’t entitled to, enraged Jason and he threw his hands down, beginning to pace nervously. “What? What the fuck are you two…lookin’ at?!” 

“Look, maybe you should just…fill us in on what happened last night, and maybe we can help figure out what’s going on with Y/n,” Shanae jumped in, standing in between Eric and Jason as she attempted to play peacekeeper. 

Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair as he nodded. What else was he supposed to do? God knew he couldn’t figure it out by himself. He’d been givin’ himself migraines attemptin’ to do just that. 

“I picked her up from work, like I always do on movie nights,” Jason started reiterating. “Told her Nick was comin’ into town, and that he was bringin’ Rachel. That’s when she first got jumpy—but then, when I asked her to come to this dinner with me, she seemed alright? Well, she did, until—”

“Until what?” Shanae asked kindly and Jason blinked at her, remembering.

“Well, she did ask if I meant as a date,” Jason admitted, furrowing his brows and pursing his lips as he tried to puzzle it out in his mind. “I said no, ‘cause I didn’t mean it like that and even if I had, I knew she would just panic about it, so—”

“Holy fucking shit,” Eric interrupted, rolling his eyes and pointing an accusatory finger towards Jason’s chest. “You’re a fucking idiot, Jason.”

Eric’s words lit a fire in Jason’s chest and he went at him, puffing up his chest as he ran into Eric’s finger, fully prepared to punch him straight in the face and ask questions later. 

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?!” Jason demanded, fully aware that they were garnering stares from other restaurant-goers now. “What the fuck do you mean?!”

“Y/n’s in love with you, you dickhead!” Eric screamed back at him, his face red and eyes narrowed into slits. “She fucking adores your stupid ass!”

Jason’s chest constricted with anxiety and he shook his head; you…loved him? No, not possible; if you felt that way about him, he would have known it already, or, or you would have…you would have told him. Right?

“No,” Jason denied and Eric threw his hands up and groaned in frustration, shaking his head vigorously. “What, you dickhead?! She doesn’t. She’s not. We’re just…we’re just friends!”

“No, Jason, she is,” Nick interrupted with a sigh, waving a hand in apology to the waitstaff. “Y/n has been in love with you for years, Jason. Even before we fell down those fucking caves.”

The realization hit Jason like a ton of bricks, weighing him down as he realized that Nick was right; everything you’d done for him, the way you looked at him, how you only spent your free time with him—it made sense. You were in love with him.

Holy fucking shit—he was a stupid fucking dickhead.

“Oh, fuck,” Jason groaned, clutching at his hair in his own stress. “Shit, fuck, oh, no.”

“Did you seriously not know that Y/n is madly in love with you?!” Nick questioned, bringing Jason a glass of beer that he downed, instantly. 

 “I’ve never…thought about her like that,” Jason admitted, although as soon as the admission left his lips, it felt wrong. Had he thought of you like that? Sure, he had fantasies about having sex with you…sometimes he thought about what it would be like to kiss you, or build a family with you but that didn’t mean—that didn’t mean he loved you. Did it?

“Bullshit!” Nick instantly exclaimed, loudly, causing Jason to jump in shock. Jason opened his mouth to protest or—explain, maybe—but Nick held up a finger with a warning glare that he wasn’t quite finished. 

“You seriously never noticed how much of a fucking wreck you were whenever Y/n was out on assignment?” Nick asked, and Jason gulped as he remembered how awful it had felt, not knowing if you were coming back to him. How he’d thrown things and broke things and been a general asshole to everybody until the second that you came back to the base.

 “Or how fucking moody you’d get when she went out with other Marines on base?” Jason grunted at Nick’s words, and even now, he remembered that he’d felt jealous of Eric just taking you to work—and Eric had a very steady girlfriend. 

“You’re sitting here and you’re telling me that you don’t stay up with her all night long when she has nightmares, just to hold her?” Nick continued. “You’re gonna sit here and you’re seriously going to tell me that you had no problem letting Clarice die when she was infected; but when it was Y/n, you wouldn’t let anyone even think about doing the same to her?! You’re really gonna sit here and you’re gonna tell me that you did all of that stuff and you’re not in love with her?!”

The silence in the room was deafening as the pieces began to click into place in Jason’s mind; his heart was racing, his palms were sweating, and he felt like he was going to pass out.

 “Holy shit!!!” Jason hollered, hopping back up to his feet with his mouth gaping open and a frantic, terrified look on his face. “I’m fuckin’ in love with her!” 

Nick walked over to him with a smile on his face, clamping a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. 

“Yeah, dude,” Nick confirmed. “Take it in. You’re down fuckin’ bad.” 

As soon as the words left his friend’s mouth, Jason knew. Fuck, how could he have missed it?! How could he have pushed his feelings for you so far down that he hadn’t even realized it himself? Fuck, and he knew he loved you too, because he’d almost said it to you—when he thought you were dying, down in those caves and you’d asked why he saved you—fuck he was so fuckin’ stupid!

“Oh, shit, fuck, I need to get to her now,” Jason rushed out, hurrying over to the door and leaving Nick, Shanae, and Eric following behind him. “I need to tell her—fuck, she needs to know—”

“Shit dude, you can’t drive like this,” Nick insisted, wrenching Jason’s arm away from his truck and pulling him over to his car. “I’ll take you, and then Rachel and I will find a way to get your truck back home, alright?”

“Fuck it, I don’t give a shit, just get me there,” Jason begged and Nick nodded, trying not to laugh at the visual of Jason swinging himself into his car as if his life depended on it. 

But fuck, it sure as hell felt like it did.

🌒

YOU couldn’t bring yourself to change out of your tight leather dress. You desperately needed to take off the stupidly lacey underwear you’d worn underneath it—you’d wanted to feel hot, confident—but all it did was serve as a reminder to you of the sex that you weren’t having and that you haven’t had in a ridiculously long time. 

You sighed, staring at your reflection in the mirror and trying not to cry; you were certain by this point that you had ruined whatever friendship that you and Jason had. You’d self-sabotaged, and why? Because you’d let your stupid, selfish feelings get in the way? You were such an idiot, and even if there was a way to fix it, you were certain that there wasn’t a way to forget it.

You thought you heard a knock at the door, but you waved it off, focusing on scrubbing the makeup off of your face. It wasn’t until Jason’s deep timbre of voice floated through your apartment that you stood, frozen, before running out of the bathroom.

There he was, standing in your living room, looking distraught and glancing around anxiously for you. Rachel was gone, you noticed, and as soon as you did, Jason’s eyes found yours and a sense of relief settled across his face.

You stood across the room and downed a half-mug of coffee—Rachel had made you sober up— and you set it down slowly on the counter with a gulp, knowing that if you were going to salvage this relationship, now was the time to do it.

“Jason,” you greeted, walking slowly towards him with your hands up in surrender. “I’m so sorry, I should have never been drinking—and I definitely should have never said any of those things to you—”

“I’m in love with you,” Jason interrupted, his words coming out quickly and desperately, like he really needed to say it right then or he might never get up the courage to do it. Your body turned as cold as ice as you attempted to convince yourself that he’d said something else. Anything else, because, surely, he didn’t say what you think he just fucking said to you.

 “I—I fuckin’ love you, Y/n, and I’m so sorry that I never said it before—”

“What?” You questioned, taking a step away from him and pinching yourself lightly as you tried to deduce if this was real life. Yup; this is real. This is legit. “You—what?” 

To your utter surprise, Jason smirked; and then, he laughed. Out loud. Like this was the funniest conversation in the whole fucking world, but you really couldn’t manage to find the humor in it. 

“I love you, Panic Attack,” Jason continued with a gigantic grin on his face, grabbing your hands and pulling you towards him. You didn’t resist, allowing him to pull you into him as his arms encircled your waist, his one hand reaching up to cup your cheek and press a tiny, sweet kiss to your forehead. “I think I—fuck, no, I’ve always known that I loved you I just—fuck.”

Jason took a deep, steadying breath, leaning his forehead against yours, as if he were drawing some extra strength from you, and you felt your own eyes fluttering shut of their own accord. Funny; my heart is racing and yet, I feel so calm, so steady. How is it possible to have both at the same time? How can one person have this much of an effect on you?

“I’m so terrified that if I let myself love you, I’ll lose you and—Y/n, I can’t. I. Can’t. Fuckin’. Lose. You.”

Your entire chest felt like it was on fire—the good kind, that is—and you beamed up at him, feeling the tears spring from your eyes but not really giving a shit. 

“You’ll never lose me, Jason,” you assured him quietly, reaching up and grasping his face in your hands, giggling as you watched the large, amazingly beautiful smile of his light up his face. “I love you so much, I can’t even think sometimes—”

His mouth was on yours before you could even finish speaking, but you couldn’t give two fucks; you reciprocated the kiss with just as much fervor as he was giving you, and you found yourself leaning farther and farther into his touch, your hands clutching the bottom of his shirt as you pulled him flush against you, begging to feel more and more of him now that he’d allowed you to have the smallest of touches.

“Fuck, you taste fuckin’ amazing, and that’s just your lips,” Jason moaned into your mouth and you laughed—but your giggles soon turned into moans as Jason’s tongues caressed the inside of your mouth, causing an uncomfortable itch to grow inside of your lacey panties. 

Jason was backing you up into the wall now, his hands clutching your hips when you shifted—as if you were now his lifeline. “Damn, baby, please—I want to taste more of you, fuck, please?” 

You could get used to a whiny, begging Jason.

“Damn it, Jason, like you even have to ask,” you responded in kind, pulling down the tiny sleeves to your leather dress and not even having to wait a second before Jason’s lips were attached to your collarbone, sucking vigorously. You just knew that he was leaving you the fucking biggest hickey in the world, marking his territory like a roadmap down your neck to your chest and you shivered with electricity.

“Shit, Jason, I always knew that you’d be good at this,” you whined, and Jason grinned against your skin, his teeth pressing against the thinnest part of your bone and causing a shiver to run up and down your spine. 

“I don’t know where the fuck you got this leather dress from but baby girl, the moment I saw you in it, all I fuckin’ cared about was rippin’ it the fuck off of you,” Jason growled and you moaned against his words, throwing your head back against the wall as his hands pushed the dress the rest of the way down your torso. You opened your eyes just in time to watch as his eyes nearly bugged out of his skull.

“What?” You asked, confused, your eyes raking down your body as you inspected to see if there were any scars or new bruises that you hadn’t noticed you’d acquired. Frowning as you didn’t see anything out of place, you screeched, “What? Jason, what’s wrong? Is something stuck? Are you alright—”

“Your bra.” Jason’s voice was hoarse, constricted, and it was then that you noticed that his eyes were glued to your breasts almost anxiously, his lips trapped in between his teeth and a hissssss instead of a breath escaping his lips as he took you in. “It’s…fuck, is that just pure lace?”

You grinned evilly at him, pushing the dress past your thighs and watching as his eyes wandered down with it. He audibly whined and pulled back when he caught sight of your barely-covered pussy, throwing his head back and running a hand down his face. 

“Shit, darlin’ that—a matching set—oh, fuck!”

Jason didn’t want to waste anymore time talking, apparently, because he was already on his way downtown, his lips locking onto your breast and removing your bra completely. Your fingers clutched his hair, sure your fingernails were raking damage into his scalp, but he didn’t seem to care. Your yelps and moans were pathetic, but Jason thrived on them, intent on making you cum by just sucking your nipples and circling your most sensitive points with his tongue. 

Jason seemed to grasp the art of multitasking, because his hand shot down your body as his teeth continued to play with your nipples, his fingers tenderly stroking your clit and eliciting a whimper from your mouth.

“Dammit baby, you’re so wet,” Jason mumbled on your breast, and he shoved two fingers up inside of you, causing your breathing to hasten as your breaths came out in pants, his thumb continuing to rub your clit and his tongue not showing any mercy on your hardened nipples.

A short, few seconds later, you were there, orgasming intensely as his hand continued its very hard, important work, and you bucked further into his touch, encouraging him to remove your underwear. He smirked as he did so, but you didn’t fucking care, and you wasted no time in pulling his own clothes off of him, making sure that you took your time to appreciate how fucking fit he was. 

Your tongue raked down his abs as you made your own way down Jason’s body, stopping just short of his penis. You looked up at him with big, doe eyes, and Jason looked back down at you nervously.

“Doll, you don’t have to—”

You didn’t waste any time in taking him into your mouth completely, your mouth doing exactly what it knew how to do. He was big, but you knew you could handle it—and the way that he was moaning and writhing had you feeling insanely confident.

It was only a minute into it that Jason tore your head away by your hair, and you looked up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently.

“Quit teasin’ me,” Jason growled at you and you giggled, straightening yourself up to be back at his level.

“If you don’t like my teasing, then why are you moaning?” You antagonized, and you could see Jason’s tongue in his cheek as his eyes brightened and he shook his head at you, picking you up off of your feet and carrying you to the bathroom.

“You fuckin’ little tease,” Jason sneered and you winked at him, allowing him to set you down in his shower. “I want you wet, princess.”

You didn’t bother correcting his old nickname for you—you simply turned on the shower, allowing the hot water to encompass you both as Jason pinned you up against the shower walls, hiking a leg up as he entered you slowly, taking in your face and making sure that you were alright.

Finding the assurance that he needed, he began to pump in and out of you—him being so big that he filled your walls, hitting your g-spot with minimal effort. That, or Jason knew what he was doing, and you were willing to wager that he did. His mouth was biting, licking, and sucking at your clavicle, with one hand working your clit and the other fondling your breasts, focusing heavily on your nipples as he knew that that had made you cum the first time. 

Your eyes couldn’t help but wander up to his hair, now wet from the streaming water, and something about the brown locks hanging down and sticking to his face was so fucking sexy that it made you cum right on the spot—Jason following instantly after.

When the orgasms ended and the high faded shortly after, Jason looked at you, a cheeky smile on his face as he pressed another kiss to your lips, lingering for a long time as he seemed hesitant to let you go. 

“This is real,” you breathed out, and Jason smiled against your lips, your eyes staring at his dimple as it was so close to you now. “Right? This is really happening? You love me? And you want to be—what, my boyfriend?”

Jason laughed out loud at that and you quirked an eyebrow, confused. He only held you closer as he said:

“Sweetheart, I wanna fuckin’ marry you.”

You watched the blush sweep across his face at his admission and you smiled, pulling his head down to yours for a sweet, emotional kiss.

 “I want to take on life with you, baby—one panic attack at a time.”

You giggled, pulling him closer as you pressed another kiss to his lips.

“That was the stupidest joke that you’ve ever made, Jason Kolchek.”

Jason shrugged and turned you around so that your back was pressed to his front, his strong arms cradling around you as he sighed, pressing hundreds of kisses into your wet hair, the water from the shower encompassing you both in a stream of sex and sweetness.

“Yeah, maybe—but it’s the fuckin’ truth baby! You can’t tell me that I ain’t gonna be goin’ through a million more of these Y/n freak-outs!”

Well, yeah. Even you couldn’t deny that one. 

“Yeah, but you’re going to love every second of the panic, Jase.”

You could feel his lips against your back as he smirked.

“Damn fuckin’ straight.”

Jason taglist: @house-of-kolchek @kawaiiwitch224 @inactiveforidk @lorebite @yeslieutenant @kassiekolchek22 @pechvogel @buttermykolchek @emilykolchivans @e-jaegerenthusiast

Forever taglist: @house-of-kolchek @lorebite @yeslieutenant @kassiekolchek22 @buttermykolchek @kawaiiwitch224 @ageofbajabule

[house-of-kolchek]

MY LIFE

Stargazing // Jason Kolchek Drabble

Jason Kolchek X Female Reader

A/N: This drabble was originally written for @yeslieutenant or @obsessedwithtoomanythings. Go follow her! She's great! Just another repost as I move things over to this blog. You also know me as yellowroseskolchek but that bitch is burned now.

WARNINGS AND TAGS: Depression, simp!Jason(honestly do we expect anything different from me at this point?!),

Word Count: 482

Jason Masterlist, Main Masterlist

"I don't know, man, she's just been lying there, staring at the ceiling," Nick sighed, gesturing vaguely to where you were lying in the middle of the room, pretending that the dots on the ceiling were tiny stars and that you were outside. Maybe camping with your family, or--Stargazing. No, you were definitely Stargazing.

"And you ain't got a clue as to why she's hangin' out...on the floor?" Jason asked, again, biting his lip as his mind raced with worries about you. "In her pajamas?"

"No," Nick answered, shaking his head. "It's like I said, man, she ain't talkin' to anybody. Just laying there, mumbling something under her breath and staring at the ceiling."

"I'll go talk to her," Jason insisted, straightening out his shirt and hurrying over to you without so much as another word to Nick.

Jason had been harboring a crush on you since you'd shown up here, at Camp Slayer, beautiful and completely different than any other woman he had ever met. You were tough, funny, and confident--it was like you really knew who you were, and what you wanted and Dear God, it was so sexy.

He'd never seen you like this before, though. Despondent, numb, quiet.

"Hey," Jason greeted as he approached you, kneelin' down to get a little bit closer to you. "Are you, uh, are you feelin' alright?"

Your only answer was a sigh, but you turned your face to him, your eyes bloodshot and exhausted. That only confused him more—he figured maybe you'd been cryin', or you were upset about somethin'---but you looked totally vacant, like there were no emotions at all goin' through your head.

"I didn't sleep last night," you replied, finally, after a few long moments. "I haven't slept in like, a month, actually."

"A month?!" Jason exclaimed, and your head turned away from him, staring at the ceiling again. "Y/n, that's not healthy; are you sick?"

"I'm depressed." The words came out straightforward, monotone. Jason gulped, unsure of how to navigate this—never having had to deal with this sort of thing before. "And I'd just like to lay here, pretending that the patterns are actually stars and I'm somewhere better than this, okay?!"

Jason sighed then, nodding, but what really caught you off-guard was when he suddenly laid down next to you, lying an arm around his own stomach and pressing his head next to yours.

You stiffened, blinking back tears and your voice cracking and desperate in the first show of emotion from you today when you asked: "What are you doing?!" 

Jason turned his face to yours and you must have felt it, turning your face to his as well, nose-to-nose.

"I'm Stargazin' with my favorite person on base," Jason answered nonchalantly, his hand intertwining with yours. "For as long as she needs me to."

Maybe Jason was different from other men you knew, too.

Jason taglist: @house-of-kolchek @kawaiiwitch224 @inactiveforidk @lorebite @yeslieutenant @kassiekolchek22 @pechvogel @buttermykolchek @emilykolchivans @e-jaegerenthusiast

forever taglist: @house-of-kolchek @lorebite @yeslieutenant @kassiekolchek22 @buttermykolchek @kawaiiwitch224 @ageofbajabule

[house-of-kolchek]

MY LOVE

Watch Me Watching You // Jason Kolchek Oneshot

Jason Kolchek X Female Reader

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm moving all of my shit over to this lovely blog--you may have known me before as yellowroseskolchek before tumblr decided to take a shit on me. All of my works will now be posted here, and I am going through and reposting everything. Sorry if repeats are annoying, but it is what it is right now sadly :( Please DM me if you'd like to be on my taglist for my Jason works, and alternatively if you'd like me to not tag you anymore!

WARNINGS AND TAGS: NSFW, MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY, exhibitionism, Simp!Jason, Jason doesn't know how to talk to attractive women, Reader is a tease, assguy!Jason, pushy!reader, showoff!reader, opportunistic!reader, public masturbation, masturbating in front of someone else, sexual tension, cocky!Jason, Jason is a sweet talker, horny!Jason, horny!reader, strong!Jason, sex only protected by BC, GUYS I AM NOT KIDDING THIS IS FILTHY BEWARE, k I warned you though, y'all are a bunch of horny animals I swear--

Word Count: 2.9k

Jason Masterlist, Main Masterlist

YOU could always feel Jason’s eyes on you. Every single second of every single day.

From the very moment you stepped foot on base, his eyes were on you. As much as Jason liked to pretend that he was good at hiding his feelings, the boy couldn’t be more obvious about his blatant staring and gawking, as if he’d never seen a woman in uniform before. 

You were decently attractive—you knew that much—but you weren’t certain that it warranted this sort of attention. The man was normally so fucking confident, sure of himself, but the second that you entered the room? That all went to hell. He’d become a blubbering mess of nonsense, wincing at each nonsensical word that exited his mouth, before groaning and mumbling under his breath that he suddenly had something really important to do. 

There was one instance where you were working out with a couple of the other women in the weight room, and Jason walked in, his mouth falling open instantly when he eyed you in nothing but your very very short, ass-hanging out spandex, and a loose-fitting, flowy crop top. 

“Hey, Lieutenant,” Rachel had greeted, her mouth closed in a tight line as she attempted not to laugh. “You alright there? Or are you trying to catch flies?” 

Jason had shaken his head vigorously, his mouth closing shut, before his eyes downcast and he murmured, “It’s nothin’, I—I gotta go find Nick, I—fuck.” 

And promptly left the room, without so much as a second glance your way.

“You know that boy is like, pathetically into you, right?” Rachel pointed out and you scoffed, shaking your head as you made your way back over to your yoga mat for some squats. “And I know you’re not not into him either, Marine.”

“Yeah, well, if he’s so into me, then maybe he should man the fuck up and make a move,” you’d retorted, more than slightly disheartened that Jason couldn’t even seem to be in the same room as you for more than five seconds. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t flattered—Lieutenant Kolchek was quite the looker himself if you were being honest—but you’d be damned if you would be the one to make the first move. No, if he really were interested in you, he’d have to man up and prove it.

That didn’t mean that you couldn’t help…move things along, though.

You’d deduced impressively early on that Jason Kolchek was an ass guy. His eyes were constantly glued to your ass, and you made sure to walk out of a room with a little extra swing in your hips, directly within his line of sight. He also seemed to be a bit of a leg guy, and you always made sure to show off your calves whenever the opportunity presented itself. Working out on base? Short, tight spandex. Received an injury—even something as small as a scratch—to the leg? Roll up your pant legs until it healed. Extra hot day out in the sun? I’m just saying, spandex is magical.

All of these advances succeeded in keeping his eyes on you at all times, but that’s all that they did. Anytime Jason spoke to you, he was cordial, professional, and clipped. He rarely joked around with you, got to know you, or even scheduled you for the same night shifts. 

No, just showing off your assets in a public setting wouldn’t work. You needed to hit him where and when he was the weakest if you had even the slightest chance of getting any action from him. 

The moment that you realized this was the moment that your plan officially began to form. 

You weren’t an overtly clingy person; if Jason wasn’t interested in anything more than a sexually beneficial, no strings attached sort of relationship, then you could certainly provide that type of need. If Kolchek actually was interested in a real, boyfriend/girlfriend type of relationship? Well, you wouldn’t exactly be the most opposed to that idea, either. Whatever he was willing to give at this point, you were more than willing to take. 

You just needed to give him a little push—show him just exactly what he was really missing. 

It started on a Saturday, as good things often do; it was hot outside, and you had taken every opportunity to be out in the sun, running in a sports bra and spandex. You’d been put on Jason’s “team” today for training, along with a newer recruit, Joey Gomez, and a couple of other guys you knew casually. Jason seemed to avoid you at every turn, giving you instructions without making eye contact or using your first name, even though he’d clearly warmed up to the other Marines. 

You’d rolled your eyes at him a few times—and he must have been looking at you at least a little bit—because the snappy sound of your last name would snap your attention to him every single time, and he’d glare at you, shaking his head before moving onto the next task. You quietly smirked to yourself then, going on to do pushups or run the mile or whatever the fuck came next.

You decided to up the ante—just a little bit, because you didn’t want to scare the poor thing away. You started doing your workouts closer to Jason, occasionally rubbing up against him if you could, making sure that when you bent down or squatted, your ass was in full view of his face.

At first, he didn’t react, Jason only stiffening up or turning his head away from your advances. Eventually, though, you noticed that he began to stand closer to you, as if he, too, were testing the waters of just how far you were actually willing to go.

After a few brushes of your fingers up his arm when you passed, “accidentally” downward dogging your ass into his business, and ensuring that he be the one to spot you for weights, you began to notice how flustered he truly was. His face was red and his breath was coming out in anxious huffs, and suddenly, his eyes were catching yours every couple of seconds with a certain heat beneath them, his teeth capturing his lips as he stared you down.

The two of you played this game for the better part of five hours, until it was time to break for lunch and you sauntered off to the bathrooms, alone. 

Fuck.

 You hadn’t even managed to get him to say five words to you, yet his stare alone was enough to make you absolutely heated. 

You ran to the farthest stall—a communal bathroom, unfortunately, but you were banking on the fact that you’d chosen one so far away that nobody would come to it—and pushed yourself against the far wall, your hands pushing your spandex down and away so fast it was fucking impressive.

Your plan had obviously backfired on you; you’d intended to get Jason all hot and bothered, but instead, you’d ended up that way, and you desperately needed some form of release before you could go back out there and keep training because if you didn’t, you feared you wouldn’t be able to focus on anything but the sweltering heat in your pussy.

Your finger found your nub quickly—way too fucking quickly, but you were much too far past the point of embarrassment to really give a fuck right now. You whined as the back of your head smacked against the wall, your eyes shut tight and your mouth formed in a little ‘O’ as you began to work your little bundle of nerves quickly, hoping for a short and sweet orgasm anytime now.

You were building yourself up quite nicely, your free hand clutching the sink and your teeth gritted as you began to feel the budding energy of release upon you, when suddenly, you heard a noise from just outside the bathroom.

Fuck, you thought to yourself, quickly pulling your hand away from your wet core and snatching your spandex from off of the floor, using them to cover your front and dashing into the nearest stall, closing yourself in and silently praying to yourself that whoever it was hadn’t heard a fucking thing. 

You squinted as you peered through the thin lines of open space between the stall door and the stall walls, your eyes widening as you watched none other than Jason walk in, running a hand through his hair nervously before heading into a stall of his own.

He hadn’t seen you at all, the man completely oblivious to just how filthy this bathroom had gotten and all because of him. 

Your first, and most rational, thought was to pull your spandex on and get the fuck out of there—but suddenly, a lightbulb went off in your mind. It wasn’t every day—or ever, really—that you got Jason alone, yet here you both were. Alone, and halfway across base, where you were certain nobody else would dare to venture out to. Shit, you were pretty certain that the only reason Jason was out here was because he thought that you wouldn’t be.

You let your instincts—and the budding, pleading promise of release—take over, and you exited the stall, coming to camp out directly across from the one you saw Jason in. You weren’t sure what he was doing in there; if he’d come here with the same intentions as you, you certainly couldn’t hear a fucking thing, and if his intentions were purely innocent, well that just turned you on even fucking more.

You smirked to yourself as you hopped onto the bathroom counters, hearing the flush of a toilet and turning your eyes to the cracks in Jason’s stall.

He was looking back at you, eyes wide and visibly anxious.

You bit your lip in a play on seduction, letting your spandex fall to the ground as you “dropped” them, your entire lower half naked and on display for him, if he so chose to watch. Something about the fact that he could watch—that he would be right there, staring at you as you climaxed—made you throb even harder than you already were in the first place. 

Not one to get performance anxiety, you leaned your head back against the mirror with a moan, shutting your eyes tightly as you allowed your fingers to crawl their way back to your folds, rubbing in and out as you whined and thrashed. 

You began to get sweaty, and Jason still hadn’t moved a fucking muscle, but you couldn’t tell between the bars of the stall whether or not he was embarrassed or turned on, so you continued to fuck yourself. You were getting close, and the fact that you could practically feel his eyes on you was doing nothing but amping you up even higher, to the point that you climaxed quickly and easily, letting yourself let out a brief shout as you came quickly.

Once it was all said and done, your hand moving out of you and you straightening yourself up on the counter, Jason exited the stall. His face was red and he avoided your eyes, stalking over to the farthest sink from you and washing his hands quickly, careful not to acknowledge your presence at all.

You stared at him in the mirror, but his face was carefully crafted into a blank canvas, giving absolutely nothing away. You wondered, briefly, if you had fucked up—if you had gone way too far and made him uncomfortable. 

It was only a minute before Jason stepped away from the sink and dried his hands before he turned to you and your now-covered self, his eyes wandering down to where you held the thin fabric of your spandex over your nakedness.

You watched him gulp as his eyes wandered back up to your face, his tongue in his cheek as he stepped closer to you. Your breath hitched as he laid a few fingers on your thigh and they danced dangerously close to your womanhood, his mouth turning up into a smirk as he leaned his mouth to your ear.

“Fun show,” he taunted, and you squirmed under the teasing edge of his fingers, pushing themselves underneath the fabric of your spandex and whisking it away. “But I can do it better than that.” 

Your chest was roaring up into flames now and you pushed him slightly away from you so that you could see his face. Gone was the embarrassed, nervous man that you had known, and here in his place was a confident, dominating Jason that you had never seen before. 

It was hot as a fucking middle-of-July summer.

“Oh, yeah?” You answered, finally finding your fucking voice. You leaned back into him, your fingers grabbing the collar of his t-shirt and pulling him so tightly into you that your noses were touching.  “Then put your money where your mouth is and prove it, Kolchek.”

Jason apparently didn’t need any more prompting, because he grabbed the back of your head fiercely, his fingers intertwined in your hair as he shoved your face against his, his lips smashing into yours beautifully as he kissed the ever-living daylights out of you. He stood in between your open legs on the counter, and even with you propped up this high, he was taller than you. 

Your own hands wound around his neck and kept him close to you, ensuring that he wouldn’t change his mind and back away suddenly, leaving you dripping wet and alone. 

“Don’t know how long I’ve wanted you like this,” Jason mumbled against your lips, his hands pushing up under your shirt and discarding it as you attempted to do the same with his. When you were unsuccessful, you broke the kiss, planting your lips onto his neck instead and sucking, reveling in the way that Jason moaned underneath your touch. You finally got his t-shirt off and threw it across the room, uncaring of where it landed. “So fuckin’ long—”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” you huffed out as Jason’s hands were now kneading your breasts, his lips locked onto your collarbone and sucking viciously. “Why do you think I masturbated in front of you?” 

You couldn’t see Jason’s smirk, but you could feel it on your skin as his lips made their way down your body, paying extra attention to your breasts, belly button, and hips before stopping just short of where you craved them the most. 

“Fuck,” Jason stated, pulling away from you and staring hungrily down at your glistening pussy. “As much as I’d like to eat you out, baby girl, all I can think about is how much I want to bend you and your sassy mouth over and fuck you until you can’t walk.”

You tilted his chin up with your finger, your eyes gleaming devilishly as he looked back up at you. Biting your lip, you leaned in closer to him, capturing his still-covered waist with your legs wound around, pressing your noses together and sucking on the lobe of his ear when you whispered, “You don’t have to be gentle with me, Kolchek; I don’t break easily.” 

That was, apparently, all he needed to hear because he pushed away from you instantly, undoing his belt as fast as he could and shoving his pants and underwear down his legs before he was on you again, pulling you off of the bathroom counter and hoisting you up, holding you so that you leaned against the wall at the perfect height for your waists to match up.

Jason wasted no time—and you didn’t want him to anyways—as he pumped into you at an angle, working hard to keep you up and fill you up at the same time. Your hands were both in his hair and your head was thrown back as you felt his thickness fill all of you, curving in just right to hit you where you most needed him. You couldn’t care less about the pathetic whining coming from your mouth, or the way that you shoved his head into your breasts, begging him to suck you off there too. Jason got the hint and began working your breasts as he pumped in and out of you, hitting a good stride with his mouth on your nipples, his dick inside of you, and his fingers working your clit. 

It was so much sensation at once that you were pretty certain at any given moment you were going to keel over and lose it, and you could already feel that this was going to be the most intense orgasm you may have ever experienced. Jason was stunningly silent as he worked into you, his brown eyes boring into yours as he watched your face make its pathetic movements each time he did something good.

It wasn’t long before the pressure of his fingers alongside the pressure of his member was just too much and you screamed out, bucking viciously as you both rode the waves of your orgasm. In the middle of it, you must have done something just right, because all of a sudden Jason was crying out with a groan too, pushing farther into you as you felt him dripping his load into you, grateful you had been on the pill since you turned eighteen.

When it was all said and done, you were both just a pair of sweaty, blissed-out bodies, holding each other weakly as neither one of you really seemed to want to let go. You rested your forehead on his shoulder and he kissed your cheek with a laugh that made you giggle along as well.

“So,” you blurted out, pulling away from him and caressing his cheek with your hand. He beamed up at you, the gleam in his eyes threatening to bowl you over. “Now that we fucked, do you think we could have a decent conversation one of these days?”

What? It was a valid question.

Jason taglist: @house-of-kolchek @kawaiiwitch224 @inactiveforidk @lorebite @yeslieutenant @kassiekolchek22 @pechvogel @buttermykolchek @emilykolchivans @e-jaegerenthusiast

forever taglist: @house-of-kolchek @lorebite @yeslieutenant @kassiekolchek22 @buttermykolchek @kawaiiwitch224 @ageofbajabule

[house-of-kolchek]

Baby Steps

Leon Kennedy x Reader

Has anyone else ever babysat and just thought "how the fuck?" cause same? Anywhere here's Leon bonding with a baby cause it makes my ovaries hurt.

Word Count: 1.2k

Check out my page for more!

Leon Kennedy was a brave man. He took on hordes of zombies, monsters fourteen times his size. He’d dealt with horror and gore and brushed off threats to his life without the blink of an eye.

But this? This scared him.

Leon watched, his shoulders tensing as the toddler’s lip began to wobble, her face growing red. 

“Please don’t.”

The baby did not listen, her mouth falling open and a wail ripping from her throat. The cracker in her fist turned to dust, scattering across the highchair and down to the floor. With a melancholy sigh, Leon tried a blackberry, also sacrificed to the floor with a scream. 

“I just-” he huffed, glancing to the heavens for help. “What do you want from me?” The child stared right back at him, with wide eyes and wobbly lips. So, with a surprising swiftness, he wiped the remaining crumbs from her mouth, lifting her from the high chair and placing her on the ground. The toddler took off on shaky feet, rushing towards her basket of toys with the tired agent in tow. 

She plucked a stuffed football from the basket, turning to show it off to Leon with a giddy smile. He blinked. Because how on Earth had her mood changed that fast???

The toddler tried again, jerking the toy in his direction, and he crouched down so she could drop it into his hand. In an effort to maintain her newfound energy, he pursed his lips together. With a whooshing noise, he waved the football around watching the wonder in her eyes as she followed his movements. Reaching out her arms, she made grabby fists, and he held the toy out for her to take. 

“How we doing team?”

Leon glanced up at the sound of your voice, having returned from tidying up the nursery. With a soft grin, he stood, reaching to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into his side. He closed his eyes, tilting his head to rest atop yours for a moment. 

“We’ve moved on from lunch to football. Limited screams though, so I’d say we’re doing great,” he mumbled, and you turned your attention to your niece as she toddled around the living room, frantically shaking the football in a tight fist. “Her mood swings are worse than yours,” Leon teased, earning a slap to his chest.

You couldn’t help but laugh though, amused at how your big tough agent was so easily defeated by a one year old. You watched the toddler drop the football, her interest shifting to the collection of books on the wall. You slipped from Leon’s grasp, ignoring his displeased grumble as you handed her one of the sturdier children’s books. She hummed, sitting down on the floor and babbling gibberish as she flipped the book open. 

“How long ‘til your sister’s back?” Leon asked, taking a seat on the couch across from you. You leaned back, propping yourself up with your hands as your niece pointed at a particularly bright picture of a fish. 

“Yes, that one’s green!” you emphasized, before tilting your head towards Leon. “Still another two hours. We can try a walk in the stroller later if you like?” He nodded, letting his head tilt back to enjoy the few moments of silence.

He watched the two of you, reading a book together in a language neither of you knew. It was moments like these that Leon allowed himself to imagine. He could see a little one like that with blonde locks, or eyes that glimmered the same hue as yours. He could imagine a life like that, simple and domestic, where there was no concern about the next mission, the next threat to his own life.

But moments like that were fleeting, as your niece suddenly rose to her feet again, abandoning the book and sprinting with a surprising swiftness back towards the kitchen. You grunted, pushing yourself to your feet to chase after her. Leon chuckled to himself, moving to trail behind you.

You met his gaze, smiling as the baby toddled back over to him, her arms raised and grabby hands directed towards him. With a raised brow, he looked down at her, noting the way her brows scrunched together and a demanding sound escaped her lips. 

“I’d hazard a guess that she wants you to pick her up,” you said, hiding your smirk behind your hand.

Leon gulped.

He scooped the baby up, fixing you with a slightly frightened glance. With a grin, she reached out with both hands, resting her palms on his cheeks. Leon glanced over to you, his heart warming at the pure adoration in your eyes as you watched the scene. Maybe this wasn’t so bad, and children weren’t afraid of him and he was actually a good babysitter.

It was at that moment that your niece decided to twist in his arms, flailing her arms around. As he scrambled to adjust his grip, her fist caught his chin in a swift uppercut, snapping his head back and eliciting a pained oof from him.

“Oh my god!” you cried, rushing over to the pair. “Playpen,” you directed, gently plucking the baby from his arms and placing her in the contraption. She glared up at you with a protruding bottom lip. As you passed along a toy car, complete with opening doors and wheels that spun, she squealed, her mood shifting to delight as she pried apart the mechanics.

“Jesus. Kid’s got quite the swing,” Leon grunted from behind you, cupping at the sore spot on his jaw. You noticed almost immediately the small drop of blood on his tongue, likely where his jaw had clamped shut on it. 

“Yes, she’s gonna be a great baseball player one day,” you chuckled, directing your attention to your boyfriend. “Now c’mere, let me have a look.”

Leon followed your directions, seating himself on the floor next to the playpen. He let you kneel in front of him, your fingers brushing against the red splotches across his jaw with such gentleness, the pain momentarily faded away. His hand moved to rest on your waist as you glanced up to meet his gaze, smiling at the warmth in his expression. You leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to the sore spot.

“I’m gonna grab you some ice, mmkay?” Leon nodded as you pressed another gentle kiss to his lips. His hand slid from your waist as you stood up, his attention shifting to your niece, who’d since abandoned the toy car in favour of staring at him. Her expression brightened at his attention, her brows jumping as if she understood that she had effectively just played the part of his wingman. Leon chuckled, poking at her nose through the netting of the playpen, and drawing a joyous laugh from the toddler. The sound seemed to fill his chest with warmth, and he couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his lips.

“You’re so confusing,” he chuckled, poking at her nose again.

Unbeknownst to him, you stood at the end of the room, hovering just by the doorway with a soft smile on your face, warmed by the sight of the two. 

You’d have to start offering to babysit more often.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #i'm still picturing him as id kennedy because its sexy #and this would literally make him a dilf

[house-of-kolchek]

Twisted Tango (18+)

Vax'ildan x Reader

Enjoy the elf smut. That's all.

Word Count: 6169 (nice.)

It wasn’t often you found the opportunity to dress up. 

So, when the Sovereign Uriel of Emon called for a formal dinner… gala… whatever the hell Percy had called it, you couldn’t help the surge of excitement at the opportunity to let your hair down - literally - and find a nice dress that would outline the smoother aspects of your battle-hardened form.

That, and you hoped to maybe catch the attention of a certain half-elf.

You arrived to the venue, feeling bright and tall in a fitted dress embellished by twin slits on either side, reaching your mid-thigh. Though they felt a little wobbly, you’d chosen the pair of striking heels Keyleth had suggested, giving you an extra couple inches of height and complimenting the colour of your outfit. Having just barely arrived, you’d already received multiple compliments and stares. Even Vex had voiced her approval, shooting you with a knowing look and a quirked brow that sent a flush to your cheeks.

But they were nothing compared to the moment when Vax noticed you. 

The rogue - who was dressed quite handsomely himself, with his usually loose hair gathered to a low ponytail - faltered in his steps, nearly running into Scanlan as his eyes stuck to you. As the gnome started shouting a few choice words, Vax simply ignored him, his attention solely stuck to you. You couldn’t help but catch the slight warmth that dusted Vax’s cheeks, and the quirk in his lips, his gaze flickering from your feet to the top of your head. 

At that moment, Percy took the opportunity to lecture the group on proper etiquette, breaking whatever spell had fallen over the two of you. With that, you simply sent Vax a bashful smile, turning your attention to the gunslinger and preparing to break out your admittedly rusty people skills. 

As your group finally entered the expansive castle, a hand gently brushed against the back of yours, and you glanced to your left to catch Vax’s soft grin. He dipped his head towards yours, stealing your breath away as he dropped his voice to a near-whisper.

“You look fantastic,” he uttered. It was simple and quiet, yet it still sent your heart rate into overdrive. You thanked him, offering a look and a compliment of your own that decorated his cheeks with a matching warmth.

Cute.

Surveying the room, you strayed off towards one of the walls, though you felt Vax’s gaze follow. With a fairly noble history, you found yourself slipping into a pleasant smile, meaningless greetings and empty chuckles. When a racket of noise sounded from the middle of the room, you had to bite back a snicker at the sight of Grog and Pike, throwing back glasses of champagne as if they were shots. 

Your amusement was short lived, however, as your gaze slid over to Percy, your heart dropping at the expression painting his features. Gone was his excitement, his wonder at speaking with all the diplomats, lord and ladies. You instead saw a strange combination of visceral fear and rage swirl in his eyes, and excused yourself from the bland conversation you’d been sharing with a Lady who’s name you’d already forgotten. 

By the time you’d reached him, the rest of the party had joined, surrounding the man in a small circle. His gaze was haunted and distant, and you were nearly at the point of snapping in front of his face before Vex pulled him from whatever trance he was in.

“Those two…” Percy uttered, describing the fall of his home at the hands of the couple - you’d overheard their names as the Briarwoods - Sylas and Deliliah. They seemed unassuming, like perfectly reasonable, if anything rather pompous characters, but if Percy spoke truth…

“Should we say something? To Uriel?” Vax offered, sending a curious glance towards the retreating couple. His brows had furrowed in that slight way, deepening with suspicion. Percy refuted - how could you say anything without any proof?

“Well, it looks like they’re staying overnight,” Vex commented, laying a supportive hand on Percy’s shoulder. You followed her gaze, noting the trunk that was being dragged up a distant stairway. In your sympathy for Percy, and newfound distrust of the couple, you began circulating different ideas of how to find any proof of wrongdoing. 

Naturally, Vax beat you to the punch.

“Why don’t I make myself scarce, and slip into their chambers. See if I can figure anything out,” He suggested, this time earning the group’s agreement. Nodding his head, he turned towards the staircase, until you caught his arm.

“I’m coming with you,” you stated. No room for questioning. “You’ll need a lookout. Y’know, just in case someone else decides their bedroom is a good place to throw a party.”

Vax didn’t resist your grasp, and his lips twitched upward at your joke. With a whispered agreement, he offered you his arm, and you looped your hands around the bend of his elbow.

He guided you through the room, matching the pleasant greetings and smiles you sent towards other guests. If he was impressed by the way you swiftly and politely dodged conversations with the nobles, directing their attention to other bragging opportunities, he didn’t show it. 

Though he did gently elbow your side as you turned towards the staircase, fixing you with an amused grin. 

You slipped up the staircase easily, your arms parting at the end of the hallway, though you continued to crave the soft warmth he’d provided. You followed his lead, ducking behind an archway in the oncoming hallway. You held your breath, waiting for one of the guards to pass through the hall, before Vax ushered you to creep along the wall. He stalked behind the guard, flicking his foot to the side to gain their attention towards the opposite wall, motioning for you to slip past. You watched as he expertly circled around the guard, remaining completely unseen as he caught up to you.

He sent you a quick, cocky grin, quirking one of his brows before motioning for you to follow him into the next hallway. To say you were impressed was an understatement, and you nearly got caught up in your distraction, as by the time you reached him, he was…

Why was he unbuckling his belt?

You watched him throw the belt into the hallway, incredulous as you peeked into the room. The article hit the ground, forming into a snake that clearly caught the attention of the two guards in front of the door to the chambers. With mirroring exclamations of confusion, they raced after the snake, leaving the hall empty. Vax caught your hand in his, leading you towards the door as he picked the lock, the both of you sparing a last glance around the hall before slipping into the room.

“You weren’t going to tell me you’re literally wearing a snake?” You whispered, shaking your hands out. Vax only chuckled, shooting you another cocky grin as you stepped further into the room.

“One of the many tricks up my sleeve,” he remarked, glancing at the door. You huffed out a laugh, keeping next to the door to listen for any commotions outside.

Vax swept through the room, rifling through drawers, papers - even checking under the bed. Finding nothing, he let out a disgruntled sigh, catching your gaze before turning to the last item in the room. You watched as he opened the trunk, yanking out article after article of clothing until it was empty. 

“Wait - look at this,” he uttered, and you stepped forward, watching him run his fingers along the top of the trunk until it made a clicking sound. The item shifted, shelves full of strange items emerging from the sides. The top panel opened to display a wicked looking book with a skull plastered across the front. 

“Well there’s your evidence,” you commented, leaning over Vax’s shoulder as he picked up the book, running his fingers along the cover before flipping through a few pages. Most of the scrawled writing was incoherent, scribbled out in a language you didn’t quite recognize. However, the ominous pictures and sketches of skulls were enough to carve a pit in your stomach. 

“The whispered one?” Vax muttered, hesitating on one page before a muffled voice rang through the hall. Both of your heads snapped up, and you cursed, rushing to refill the trunk as he tucked the book into his jacket. 

“We need a distraction!” You hissed, reaching to pull him to his feet. Your thoughts raced for a moment, gaze desperately flickering throughout the room until your eyes rested on one of the pillars of the bed. Vax grunted as you spun around, leaning your back against the pillar and yanking him forward until his chest nearly pressed against yours.

You couldn’t words, your stomach dropping and your eyes widening at the position you’d put yourselves in. Suddenly, it felt like a stupid idea. What the hell would Vax think? But then the voices continued to get closer - the deep echoing timbre of a man that had to be Sylas Briarwood.

Vax’s lips parted, his brows raising in a sort of confused shock. As you dropped his hands, they hovered in place, right above the curves of your waist. You swore his pupils dilated, his eyes searching your own, before dropping to your mouth. And then, as dread and horror all started to twist their way into your brain, he blinked, a choked sound forming in the back of his throat before he surged to crash his lips against yours.

Your chest exploded in sparks, your brain quickly catching up with you as you attempted not to fall into the kiss. This was a distraction - a way to excuse your presence in the room. It would be easy to play the eager couple getting too hot and heavy to find the right room. You hiked one leg over his hip, pulling him flush against you as his hand cupped the bare skin of your thigh. You found his free hand, guiding it to slide up the side of your torso until his thumb just barely brushed the underside of your breast. 

This was a distraction.

Was it?

Vax let out a short gasp, seeming to buckle further into your form at the brush of his thumb. His mouth was hot against yours, a low sound clipping in the back of his throat as the door opened, and light filtered into the room. 

It was over before you’d even processed it, and Vax broke away from his lips, swinging his head to the doorway and feigning surprise at the new presence. Your lips still tingled as you followed his gaze, catching the eyes of Deliliah Briarwood. Vax’s grip grew tight along your hip, and you fought to ignore the sparks it shot up into your chest.

“Oh dear- we must have ended up in the wrong room,” you drawled, and you didn’t really need to try and add an extra husk to your voice. You caught Vax’s gaze quickly, his eyes flashing with something you hadn’t seen before, something almost hungry as he moved to drop your leg to the ground. “I’m sorry about that, as you can see, we got a little eager.”

The Lady Briarwood’s lips parted, as if she were about to say something, and you finally processed the fact that you might have actually gotten away with it, until her gaze fell on something just past your feet. You dared to follow her sight, your heart dropping as you noticed the open trunk, which must not have latched properly. 

Fuck.

Vax also seemed to acknowledge the fact that you were, in fact, busted, as he scrambled to stand fully, his hand finding yours to pull you behind him. 

“Right, we’ll just get out of your hair then,” he rushed, beginning to yank you toward the door with him, when Sylas Briarwood caught his collar. The man grinned, looking absolutely wicked as his eyes flashed with gold, and then Vax froze, dropping your hand. 

“Wait- Vax!” You cried, rushing to get between the two, when Sylas punched you - hard. You flew backwards, crashing into the wall and falling to the ground. Your head throbbed and the world around you grew fuzzy, Deliliah’s form blurring as she draped herself onto the bed. Shaking your head, you propped yourself onto your elbows, your vision snapping back into place just as Sylas sunk his teeth into Vax’s neck.

He cried out, his eyes flickering back to their normal hue as he fell forward, hitting the ground just in front of you. He was on his feet in the next second, catching sight of you and reaching to pull you up. He stood in front of you with one arm outstretched from his side, and the other clutching at his blood-soaked neck. 

You uttered his name, watching as the Briarwoods approached you with matching wicked smiles. Vax’s hand found yours, and suddenly he was running in the opposite direction, only turning around again to wrap his arm around you, pulling you into his chest as he jumped backwards, crashing through the window. 

You barely had time to gasp before you jolted in midair, Vax grunting in pain as his back hit something solid, and then you were spinning the rest of the way down, only coming to a stop when you both landed in a pool of water. He grunted again, a rush of bubbles tickling your face as you hit the bottom of the fountain. 

With a gasp, you broke through the water’s surface, adrenaline forcing you onto your feet. The water came up to your knees, and you reached to drag Vax up with you, the rogue looking closer to unconsciousness than you liked. You could feel the Briarwoods’ gazes from their window as you hooked your arms under his, struggling against the water to drag him from the fountain. 

“Shit.. Shit- Vax! C’mon we gotta go!” You hissed, earning a half-coherent groan from him as the ground shook below you. You dared to glance up, pure visceral fear striking through you as you watched Sylas step out of the now cracked concrete, and towards you. You had no weapons, no real way of fighting back as Deliliah appeared next to her in a cloud of dark purple smoke. 

Your heel caught on something beneath the water, sending you tumbling back, Vax falling with you and into your chest. You heard a rumbling chuckle from Sylas, as Vax gasped awake, reaching to clutch at his neck again. You wrapped a feeble arm around his waist, feeling his hand brush against your leg pressed against his side. You were fucked, and you knew it. 

And still, Vax leaned forward, pushing off the ground as your arm fell away from him. Seemingly out of nowhere, he unearthed one of his daggers, surging forward on unsteady feet and taking a swipe at the man standing twice his size. You followed suit, rushing to stand and raising your fists. 

Vax swung the dagger again, just barely missing the sleeve of Sylas’ arm. You surged forward in an effort to distract the man, swinging a fist, which he easily caught. He bent your wrist back, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips, until Vax’s dagger dug harshly into the top of his shoulder. 

Sylas barely even flinched, swinging you backwards and reaching around to catch Vax by the throat. You landed back into the water, spitting out a short stream and looking up just in time to see Sylas swipe, leaving angry red slices across Vax’s stomach. He yelped out, growing limp in the man’s grip, and you scrambled onto your feet once more. Without thinking, you plucked one of your shoes from your feet, hurling it at the man’s head and catching him across the cheek. 

He barely flinched, his gaze darting your way before returning to the half-elf. Whatever words he said were drowned out by a shrill cry, and a bird - whom you had to assume was Keyleth - dove across his face, slashing across his cheek with her talons. 

This time Sylas did flinch, throwing Vax across the fountain before whirling around to face Keyleth. Your surge of relief was once again overpowered by fear. You rushed to Vax, your heart dropping at the pool of blood dying the water around him, when a sudden force of dark energy hit your side, sending you flying back once again. You shouted, gripping at your side and flicking your gaze to meet Deliliah’s menacing grin.

“For fuck sake, I am getting real tired of being thrown around!” you roared, kicking your other heel off and rushing towards the woman. You dodged another burst of magic from her, diving in close to swing a leg towards her. She caught the kick, extending a hand and curling her fists. Your eyes couldn’t help widening as a force seemed to squeeze on your throat, fully constricting your airway.

Fuckfuckfuck.

Just as quickly, that force was gone, and Deliliah darted to the side to avoid a sharp gunshot from Percy. Stumbling backwards, you just barely brushed soothing fingers against your neck, sparing a brief glance towards Percy - his teeth gritted and eyes wild. 

You hadn’t seen that look on Percy before.

A shout from Grog caught your attention instead, and you almost wanted to cry at the sight of him covered in angry cuts, Sylas’ blade hovering and seeming to glow. Another shout from Pike had you whirling around, as she fell against a burst of Deliliah’s magic. 

“Wait, where’s-”

Your babble was cut off as a hand caught your arm, tugging you back out of the fountain. You could hear Vex’s voice, her familiar deep timbre and accent, though you couldn’t make out one word she was saying. Suddenly, a huge wall of green vines erupted in front of you, snapping you from a daze as you fell back into Vex’s grasp. 

“Love- are you alright?” She asked, and you frantically met her gaze, before searching the rest of the group. 

Your gaze finally settled on Vax, upright and missing those horrifying slashes across his torso. While Pike must have taken the time to heal him, he still looked worse for wear, blood dripping from smaller cuts as Keyleth supported one of his arms over her shoulders. 

“I’m okay yeah,” you breathed, catching his gaze, and the flickering relief that settled between you two. 

Until Percy let out a wicked scream.

The group whirled around, catching sight of the retreating figures of the Briarwoods. Percy took aim, emptying his barrel without any luck, before whirling around again, his eyes seeming to glow with anger. 

You stepped back.

“You let them get away!” He cried, pointing at Keyleth.

“Hey!” you snapped back, though he wasn’t listening, his attention returning to the Briarwoods’ abandoned footman. He stepped towards the trembling figure - who looked no older than just a boy, really - demanding questions, and receiving shaky, desperate answers. 

“I don’t know anything!” the boy cried, stretching his hands out in front of him. A black smoke seemed to surround the two of them, and the world around you felt like it was growing cold. A gunshot rang out, and the boy screamed as his fingers flew off his hand.

“Percy!” Vex shouted, dropping your arm to rush forward a few steps. You barely heard the argument between the two of them as you watched the boy curl in on himself, a wave of confusion, sympathy, and fear washing over your shoulders. 

And then the palace doors opened, and everyone was ordered to their knees.

–

In the grand scheme of things, you’d gotten off easy. 

It didn’t stop you from grumbling as your weapons were stripped away from you, and the doors to your keep slid shut, clicking with a heavy lock. House arrest, until the council and the sovereign could all determine just what the hell had happened that night. 

While your bones and your head ached, you decided against going to Pike, opting to give her some space as she kept a distant stare at the wall. You could always take the edge off with a spare elixir or two that you’d stashed in your room. 

As you stalked away from your chambers, still tired, but feeling more refreshed than before, you caught sight of Vax’s door, which was just slightly ajar. Peeking forward, you saw him laid back on his cot, his gaze fixated somewhere along the ceiling. Surveying his form, he looked relatively unscathed, save for a few slight scratches, and two angry looking pinpricks along the side of his neck. 

A heavy breath of relief left you. He was okay. 

“Are you gonna continue to stare at me or come in?” his voice rang out, startling you out of your thoughts. With all that had happened, you’d forgotten just how good his hearing was. 

You stepped into the room, closing the door as he pushed himself to a seated position. The silence between you grew stuffy and awkward, your gaze darting from the dim expression in his eyes to the cracked stone tile that laid just at the foot of his cot. Your fingers tangled together, your foot tapping on the ground as you chewed on your lower lip.

“Almost lost you back there.” You intended it as a lighthearted joke, though it felt like it couldn’t quite reach your eyes. Vax was quiet, his brows falling and his lips turning downwards as he took in your expression. Leave it to him, being able to see right through the meek defence you put up. 

“C’mere,” he soothed, and you didn’t hesitate to follow, stopping just a few inches from his knee. Vax reached out, catching your tangled hands and gently tugging you forward until you stood between his legs, having to tilt your head down to meet his gaze. You watched his eyes brighten with every step you took, his shoulders sagging from the tensed position you’d noticed the second you walked in. 

It was like all your words left you, as you grew acutely aware of the way his hands brushed against yours, the little bit of body heat you could feel from him. 

“I’m glad I had you there to watch my back,” he breathed. His thumb swiped across your knuckles, and you felt that tension in the back of your head slowly start to melt.

“I wasn’t worried,” he breathed. “I had you there to watch my back.”

“Your back took too many hits for me,” you argued, your mind flashing back to the moment he threw you both out the window, how he took each impact on the way down. You reached across, draping an arm over his shoulder to rest along his back, hearing a sharp intake of breath from him. 

“It was worth it,” he hummed, gently pushing you back so you could meet his gaze. “I’d rather take the hit if it meant you didn’t have to.” Your heart squeezed at the earnest look in his eyes.

“Why?”

“You’re incredibly important to me,” he answered, sincere as he met your gaze. This time, your heart felt like it might have actually burst. He seemed to notice, a grin forming on his face as his tone grew lighter. “That, and I have to keep you in top shape if we’re gonna make a team.”

It wasn’t necessarily his words that drew you to the fact, more of a combination of everything. The way he gently kept his hands on you, as if reminding himself that you were real. The way he’d kept you out of harm's way, not just that night, but many more in the past. The way when his gaze held yours, it seemed to soften and grow bright again. It was all those moments, and this one now, when he looked up at you as if you were the brightest treasure in the world.

“A team, hmm?” You played along, the fears and worries melting away as his presence drew you in closer. Vax brightened even more, and you watched his eyes flicker with something new and playful.

“Of course. Who else would have come up with such a…” You watched his ears twitch, his throat bobbing up and down. “..clever idea on the spot like that,” he stated, gaze flickering to your lips. Your cheeks grew warm, the memory of his kiss tingling on your lips again. 

“Psh- it didn’t even work,” you rebuked, clearing your throat. Vax’s grin grew wider.

“I would argue that it did work, just perhaps in a slightly different way.” Your raised brow was replaced with a gasp as Vax wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest and spinning the two of you around until he was hovering over you, your back flat against the sheets of his cot. His hair fell loose, fanning over you like a curtain and just barely tickling your collarbone as he met your gaze, a sincere grin on his lips and mischief behind his eyes. 

“Vax,” you breathed, reaching to curl your hands around his forearms. He didn’t move from that position, simply watching you for a moment. It mirrored that moment hours ago, before all the blood was shed when you’d held him in front of you, in that breath between admittance and action.

“If you haven’t been able to tell already, I am quite hopelessly in love with you,” he muttered. His gaze flickered between your eyes, your lips, studying your reaction to those fateful words. Your heart, on the other hand, felt like it was exploding through your chest, as you played the sentence over and over in your head, your brain taking a hell of a long time to process it. 

Just as a slight uncertainty pulled at his expression, you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in to meet your lips in a deep kiss. 

You felt his breath catch in the back of his throat, dropping to his elbows and allowing his body weight to fall on you. You reveled in the warmth, feeling it spread throughout your chest as he tilted his head, pulling back just slightly before catching your lips again. Vax’s kisses felt desperate, as he led one of his hands to tangle between the strands of your hair. 

He held you close as he tasted your lips, and it almost felt like he was trying to fuse you together. Breaking from your lips, he hovered over you for a breath, taking in your features before he was kissing you again, and again, and again.

Your hands slid across his shoulders, resting against his chest as he parted from your lips again, brushing his nose against your nose, against your cheek as he trailed his focus down towards your jaw. Vax sighed against your skin, vocalizing the relief the two of you felt, the sudden outpouring of emotion that had been stewing between you for who knows how long.

“Do you think we can finish what we started?” he muttered, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your jaw and letting his hand trail down to guide one of your legs over his waist. 

And Gods were you eager to agree.

Vax chuckled at the urgency of your legs wrapping around him, pulling him even closer than before. You toyed with one of the many belts across his torso, humming as his lips trailed down the side of your throat. As he reached your collarbone, teasing the skin with his teeth, you managed to unclasp the first buckle, fingers flying to work on the next, and the next, until each strap had fallen loose. 

Seeming to catch the hint, Vax sat up, letting your legs drape across his as he shrugged off his tunic. The pieces of hair that usually remained tied back had fallen across his forehead, framing the sides of his face and scattering across his eyes. It was a beautiful sight to take in, his pupils blown wide, the darkness of his hair and his eyes complimenting the golden hue of his skin. 

It was so different from the put together and suave Vax you knew. There was something unseen that glinted behind his eyes. And you loved it.

You reached forward to let your fingers trace along his surprisingly soft skin. He sighed, melting into your touch as his hands rested on your thighs, tracing upwards and dragging the fabric of your own shirt up as he lowered himself towards you again. He pressed slow, gentle kisses to each exposed inch of skin across your stomach, grumbling low in his throat as your muscles tightened beneath his lips. It felt like you had all the time in the world, and Vax took his time to strip your shirt off, hesitating for a moment to take in the full sight of you.

“Gods you are beautiful,” he breathed, and you felt beautiful. You let out a soft breath of his name, drawing his gaze for a brief moment as he brushed his thumb across the underside of your breast. Again he repeated the action, edging closer and closer to the sensitive flesh of your nipple, until he caught the peak, eliciting a long, admittedly whiny breath from you. Immediately, his head dipped towards your skin, his lips taking place of his hand as he savoured the touch, massaging and flicking his tongue across your nerves. Your hands tangled into his hair, tugging on the strands as you drew his face even closer, heat drawing down and flaring in your core. 

Vax took his time, his free hand drifting along the back of your thigh as you hiked it higher along his waist, a groan catching in his throat at the friction of your core. He rolled his hips against yours once, and you gasped, digging the tips of your fingers into his shoulder. 

“Do that again,” you whispered, meeting his hips with your own. You matched his sigh, your brain slipping into a haze as he ground into you again, the motion sending shots of pleasure into your lower stomach.

And then he slipped his nimble fingers past the band of your pants. 

As two fingers brushed against your clit, you tipped your head back against the sheets. Your lips parted as his continued to savour every inch of your skin, worshipping each dip and curve and scar. Vax shifted to his side, and you lifted your hips, allowing him to shimmy your pants off and toss them to the floor. His hand returned to your core, his thumb tracing your clit as he slid a finger between your folds. You let out a breathy moan, turning to press your lips against his shoulder.

He curled his fingers inside you, massaging that perfect spot and drawing an involuntary buck of your hips. You continued to press merciless kisses and bites against his skin, drawing quiet, clipped moans from him and leaving pinkish marks across his collarbone and throat. Vax continued to massage your clit with his thumb, practically meeting his curled fingers and sending strikes of pleasure up into your chest and down to your toes. 

“Tell me that feels good,” he whispered against your ear, groaning when you answered him with a gravelly voice. 

“Feels so fu-” you cut off with a whine as he spread his fingers to stretch you open. “So fucking good. Keep going,” you pleaded, and he was not one to deny you. He kept up the pace, curling and scissoring his fingers until your back was arching off the bed, and your voice grew higher in pitch. As if he could sense you growing close, he picked up the pace of his fingers, adding one more for good measure. Your eyes screwed shut, and just as your hips lifted from the bed, he slipped his fingers free, fixing you with a teasing smile. “You fucker,” you cussed as your eyes flew open. Vax was quick to soothe you with a harsh kiss, drawing your frustrations away within seconds. As he broke from your lips, sliding his tongue along his shining fingers, your own spark of mischief emerged. 

With a gentle push, he was on his back, looking up at you with hooded eyes and pupils blown wide. His lips were parted, slightly swollen, and he dared to run his tongue between them with a growing grin. Seeing him all shaggy, painted with marks from your own lips and drawing hot, heavy breaths was absolutely delicious. And he knew you liked it. 

He barely had the time to blow a stray chunk of hair from his face before your lips were on his. He wasted no time running his tongue against yours, propping himself up on one elbow and reaching to tangle one hand into your hair. This kiss was sloppy, growing desperate and hot as his tongue fought against yours. You brushed your hand against his clothed length, adding more pressure as you ran your palm down, drawing a long, broken groan from him. You repeated the action, earning more pitchy breaths and moans, until-

Oh my God,

“Vax, I need you inside me,” you nearly whined. He knew what this had been leading to, had actively been working towards it, but still those words had his breath hitching in his throat. He flicked his tongue out to wet his lips, gaze settling on you once more before he scrambled to strip off his pants. 

Before your gaze dropped down, he cupped your jaw with one hand, guiding your lips into another steamy kiss. You whimpered, tongues meeting and teeth brushing against his lower lip as he gingerly pushed you onto your back, draping a leg over until he was hovering over you again. His eyes met yours, a crooked grin on his lips as he ran his length along your slick, before finally letting out a broken “Fuck,” as he entered you.

You groaned at the stretch, feeling every inch of him until his hips were flush with yours. He gave a shallow, experimental thrust, which you eagerly met, sliding your hands to brace against his shoulders. You felt frantic in your movements, grinding against him in an effort to find some friction. To get him to move.

“Love, there’s no need to rush,” he hummed, his lips brushing against your collarbone as he rutted into you. “I want to enjoy you.”

Everything else outside the room simply slipped away. All you could feel was his lips hot on your neck, his fingers digging into your back, and the absolute fullness of him pressing deep into you with each shallow roll of his hips. You panted against his hair, pulling on the strands and drawing low growls from his throat. He voiced his pleasure with a particularly hard snap of his hips, his pace slowly beginning to quicken. 

You eagerly bucked against him, letting one hand fall to trace against his abdomen, across the freshly healed skin of his stomach, and the tightening muscles that drove you wild. He stuttered in his pace, growing distracted at your touch. Muttering obscenities into your ear, his movements grew less calculated, more focused in chasing that release you both so desperately craved.

You arched off the bed, your chest falling flush with his. The added friction of your skin against his, the constant pressure of him hitting that spot deep within you had you frantically clawing at his back, a shout building in the back of your throat. One of Vax’s hands fell from your waist, wringing into the sheet beside you as he gave a harsh buck of his hips, snapping the coil in your lower stomach in two. 

You barrelled over the edge, crying out his name as you pulsed around him. Vax whined, losing himself in your new tightness and riding out his high with a stutter in his hips. When you came down from your high, his arms were shaking, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

He looked absolutely wrecked, though you were sure you didn’t look much different.

Slipping out of you, he rolled onto his back, guiding your head to rest on his outstretched arm. Your breathing slowly calmed, and you found his other hand, playing with his fingers. You felt his breathing against your side, felt the warmth beating off his skin. He was there, and he was solid and he was real.

You glanced up at him, the messy hair that stuck to his forehead, the slight sheen of sweat painting his features and the dazed look in his eyes as he took in your presence. His fingers curled against yours, pulling your hand up to place a kiss against your knuckles, and then one more against your temple.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, his voice low and growing hoarse. “Let’s do that again sometime.”

#vaxildan x reader #vaxildan #vax x reader #vax critical role #critical role x reader #tlovm x reader

[house-of-kolchek]

Back at it again and short circuiting my brain thank you

Keep Your Eyes Open

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader

Warnings: Smut, P in V, female anatomy, reader is called she, lots of talk of guns, but no gunplay (I mean, it’s on the table and it’s in her hand, but it’s never explicitly used for the sexual stuff), dirty talk, crush confessions, Leon asks her out then fucks her.

Words: 4K

A/N: This is my first smut in forever. Cheers to Leon S. Kennedy for bringing back that smut inspiration!

“Listen, you know I consider you a friend… but-” Hunnigan starts, eyes filled with concern as she looks over the piece of paper littered with holes. Let’s just say more of my shots ended up in the wall behind the target than the actual target.

“I know, that’s why I’ve been going every day, Ingrid.” My defense is pointless, and we both know that.

“Your firearm recertification is in 3 days. If your accuracy doesn’t get better by then, you won’t be allowed to carry a gun. Do you understand what that means?” She asks as if I haven’t been losing sleep over the issue.

“I know.” It means I’ll be the only agent in this fucking building who isn’t carrying a gun. “I’ll become ‘the girl who can’t carry a gun’ faster than you can say ‘fuck off’.”

A scowl comes from the agent in front of me. “Language,” she reminds. “Maybe you should ask another agent to help?”

“And let the whole building know I’m about 11 shots away from failing my recertification? Pass. I’ll just go practice some more,” I scoff, before turning on my heel to step toward the door.

“Just think about it! I know a lot of agents who aren’t dicks and who are more than willing to help!” She shouts, but I’m not listening anymore. I step out of Ingrid’s office into the cool hallway, shutting the door behind me with an almost silent click. Taking a steadying breath, my feet begin to carry me toward the place I’ve been seeing in my nightmares lately. The shooting range.

“Hey, rookie!” I hear a voice say, halting me in my tracks before I was able to close much distance between me and the stairs. I turn my head toward the voice. Leon Kennedy.

“What’s up, Agent Kennedy?” It feels formal to call him that, but while we’re in this building, it feels wrong to call him by his first name, given he is technically my superior.

“Agent Kennedy? Feels a little formal,” he says with a teasing tone, and I chuckle at him voicing my thoughts.

“Well, we are at work,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. Leon and I have become an unlikely pair of friends. The best agent in practically the entire country and the agent who is about to fail her firearm recertification. ‘Maybe he’d be willing to help me?’ The thought is dismissed as quickly as it appeared. ‘And make him think you’re incompetent? Pass.’

“True. Still feels weird though, Agent.”

“Wow!” I gasp in feigned surprise. “I’m not ‘rookie’ anymore?” A small smile makes its way across his lips as he chuckles.

“You’re definitely still ‘rookie’, just felt like being nice.” His comment is followed by a brief roll of my eyes.

“Okay but seriously? What’s up? I have some stuff I have to do, unfortunately,” I sigh, anxiety filling me again.

“Well, I wanted to see what you were up to.” The smile is still there. Any idiot with eyes can see how attractive Leon is. Bright baby blues, cut jawline, nose that anyone would be lucky to sit on. I have definitely had more than my fair share of daydreams starring the agent in front of me.

“I was headed down to the shooting range. I have my recertification in 3 days.” I pray he’ll opt to find something else to do.

“Oh, that shit’s a cakewalk.” Yeah, for you.

“I really want to practice a bit more. I get nervous before stuff like this.” Admitting this is not an easy feat, my cheeks dusting a light pink in embarrassment.

“Okay,” he says, and for a moment, I think he’ll depart with a ‘good luck’ and a wave. Why the hell would I be so lucky? “I’ll come with. I’ve taken that test a few times so I’ll be able to reassure you that you’ll pass with flying colors.” My eyes widen significantly, and the nerves suddenly take over my tongue.

“N-no!” I stutter, much louder than I intended. His eyebrows furrow over in confusion at the sudden outburst. “I-I just assume you’ve got better things to do.” Smooth.

“Not really. I was hoping to spend some time with you, so it’s no big deal.” Kill me now. He moves toward me, wrapping an arm around my waist to turn me and walk toward the range. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

This is going worse than I could have ever imagined. The target has maybe 3 holes in it and I’ve unloaded a whole clip of 15 shots.

“Well, it’s better than the last clip,” he chuckles, eyes still locked on my practically unscathed piece of paper. The shots didn’t even hit anything vital. I drop my head to the countertop in front of me in defeat.

“I may as well just hand over my gun right now,” I mutter into the hard surface below my forehead. Leon’s hand rests on my back comfortingly before he speaks.

“No, come on. I’ll help you,” he says, bringing the target closer to switch it out for a new one. I turn my head toward him with raised eyebrows, mostly in a ‘how can you possibly fix this?’, my temple resting against the cool surface now. “I noticed a couple of things you can fix that’ll help.” A sigh, forehead back on the counter. Leon pats my back again. “Seriously. Come on.” I rise up again, cheeks red from embarrassment as he pushes the target back to the required distance. Not that I think I’d do any better if it was closer.

“Leon, it’s pointless.”

“No, it’s not. Raise the gun.” I roll my eyes and do as he instructed. “Okay, first off, you’re locking your elbows. Loosen up.” He says, tapping a finger in the crook of my elbow. A chill runs down my spine at the contact. ‘Wow, it’s been too long since I got laid.’ I drop my elbows slightly, noting that it definitely feels awkward.

“This feels weird,” I mutter. Leon smirks.

“I’m sure it does if you’ve been firing with your elbows like that. Loosening them helps with controlling movement caused by the recoil.” He explains, and I’m grateful he’s actually telling me reasons, as it’ll make it easier to remember. “Do you fire with your feet like that?” I glance down at my position, my feet across from each other, shoulder width apart.

“Yeah?” I say, forming it as a question.

“Bring your dominant foot forward. It’ll steady you more,” He says, his tone definitely airing more on the professional side.

“Sir, yes, sir.” The words are mumbled with a light giggle at the end, and a small smile raises the corner of Leon’s lips.

“Okay try firing now.”

I squeeze the trigger slowly, the jolt surprises me which causes my eyes to close for a split second, and to steady myself, I accidentally move my feet back into their original position. The shot lands in the wall. Again. The disappointment on my face must be tangible from a mile away.

“Okay, I think I can fix this actually,” he says, and I sigh in defeat.

“Yeah I’m sure you can, super cop.”

Suddenly, as if the world is working against me, his much larger frame is pressed against my backside. Feeling his chest rise against my back and his hips grazing my ass, I breathe in a quick gasp. Completely enveloped in his scent, hard lines of muscle and heat practically radiating from him, it’s a miracle I don’t melt into a puddle right here on the concrete. His hands find my ear protection, removing the makeshift headphones from my ears, much to my confusion.

“The problem is,” he says, his breath tickling my ear, and I swear he can feel the shiver that runs down my spine, pooling in my panties. “You’re scared of it.”

“W-what?” I stutter, completely affected by his presence.

“You’re scared of the gun. The recoil scares you, and so does the sound of the shot,” he explains, voice barely above a whisper. “I think you’ll find the sound isn’t nearly as loud as you think.” His arms come up, fingers grazing along my skin which causes goosebumps to rise across my arms. He rests his hands right below my elbows, the warmth practically seeping into my bones. “Let me take the recoil. Just focus on keeping your eyes open.” His words send a wave of heat through my spine and I try and fail to not shift against him. His leg shifts forward, forcing my dominant leg into the position he recommended earlier, which presses his hips tighter against me. I almost topple over from the overwhelming sensation of heat from him mixed with his intoxicating scent filling my senses, and for a moment, my vision blurs and I squeeze my eyes shut to clear the sight. Like flipping a switch, his fingers graze my chin, lightly pressing against the edges of my jaw to get my attention.

“Leon, I can’t-”

“I believe I asked you to keep these open, sweetheart.” The agent’s voice is rough in against my ear, and I can feel the vibrations from his words rumble through his chest against my back. It feels like I peel my eyes back open as they beg to remain closed, and I attempt to get my focus on the target in front of me instead of the man behind me. “Now, squeeze the trigger.”

As I do, his hips move forward against me, and I release a gasp. Focusing on keeping my eyes open. The shot rings out, not nearly as loud as I assumed without the ear protection on. Exactly like Leon said. It makes contact with the paper, inches from the paper’s bullseye. My jaw drops at the sight. I actually hit the target.

“Good girl,” he mutters, arms dropping to rest against my waist tenderly. “Told you. You were focusing on it too much.” I feel my arms relax, pointing the barrel of the gun toward the counter as I attempt to turn around to face him, but his frame is like a brick wall.

“Leon,” I begin before another intake of air comes from my chest as Leon’s lips land on the soft skin of my neck. The reaction is immediate, my hips canting back toward him as I set the gun down.

“Nuh uh, baby. Pick that back up and finish unloading the whole clip,” he breathes into the column of my throat. “Want you to get used to this stance so you’re ready for your exam.” The light kisses quickly dissolve into small nips and bites, a moan tearing from my lips as my head lolls back, resting on his shoulder. He stops immediately.

“Leon wait-”

“I told you to finish firing the clip. It’s only 14 more shots. I think you can handle it.” A breath breaks from my chest as I lean forward, arms coming back up into the position Leon had put me in, although his hands remain on my hips this time. The gun goes off again with a bang once, twice, three times, landing in similar spots as the first shot, although they are definitely getting closer to the edge of acceptable. They are hitting the target though. As I squeeze the fourth shot, the man behind me pushes his hips forward again. “Stop thinking, sweetheart.”

“You know, if you wanted to fuck me, you could have just asked me to dinner.” The words come out much more breathy than intended, and I feel like I’m waving a neon sign that says ‘I want you to fuck me’. He chuckles lowly against me, his breath tickling my ear once again.

“I wasn’t sure how you’d take that,” he admits.

“But pushing your hips into me isn’t more forward than that?” I tease. Fifth shot. Only 9 more. He shrugs.

“I came up behind you to gauge the reaction before I did that though, didn’t I?”

“And what did my reaction tell you, Agent Kennedy?” My words are much softer now as if talking louder would shatter the mood of the room, which is alight with tension.

“That you want me to fuck you silly.” Sixth shot. “Did I read that right, rookie?”

Seventh shot. I nod gently, trying not to seem eager, despite the fact that my panties are practically ruined by this point, heat gathering in my lower belly and twisting.

“Leon, can we just-” His fingers skim over the waistline of my skirt, just barely dipping below it.

“No. Not until I know you’ll pass that recertification.” He’s gone back to nipping at my neck until he finds that patch of skin where my neck meets my shoulder. A moan leaves my lips unbidden, and I can practically feel his smirk against my skin. “Go on, sweetheart.”

Eighth shot. More than halfway done. His hand drops down further into my skirt until it’s grazing across the damp spot on my panties and I feel more than hear the low groan that he releases. “Fuck, baby.” My arms go lax as his fingers draw a single circle over my clit through the delicate lace before he moves to remove his hand altogether. 

“Leon, no,” I protest as he presses his lips against my ear, intentionally using a low rumbling tone.

“Finish. Firing.” The command springs arms back up into position.

Ninth shot. Tenth shot. Eleventh shot.

“Doing so good, baby,” The praise goes straight through me, a wave of arousal leaking through the lace. Hands dropping back down to my clit, Leon pushes my panties to the side easily, swirling a finger through the wetness pooling there before bringing it up to press cruelly against my nerve endings. “Is all this for me, sweetheart?” Twelfth shot. I nod, lips pressed tightly together to muffle the squeaks and sounds attempting to leave my throat from his attention. Thirteenth shot. One more.

As I squeeze the trigger on the final shot, Leon’s fingers press into me harshly, hitting that sweet spongy part inside unintentionally and it causes a jolt in my limbs. The shot hits the wall with a pop. I hear a brief ‘tsk-tsk’ in my ear before he speaks.

“Reload.”

“But I-”

“I said, reload. You’re gonna do all fifteen again.” Dread takes over and I feel tears pool in my eyes in frustration, and Leon coos in my ear at the sight. “Oh, poor baby. You can do this.”

“Leon, please, I can’t. I need-” I gasp, setting down the gun on the counter being careful not to flag either of us. (cause gun safety is a thing).

“What do you need, baby? Tell me.” Cocky asshole.

“You.” The word is nothing but a plea.

“Aw, baby. How about I give you what you need, and then you fire off those fifteen shots? That sound like something you can do for me, pretty girl?” I nod eagerly against his shoulder before his hand is between my shoulder blades, pressing my chest to the chilly countertop.

“What about the door?” I ask, breathless and red in the face.

“I locked it when we came in here,” he mumbles as he grips the hem of my skirt and brings it up until he can see the damp lace covering me. Did he plan this? The question surfaces but before it can leave my mouth, my panties hit the floor around my ankles. “Fuck, I wanna taste you,” he whispers, more to himself than anything, but I groan in protest.

“Please just fuck me, Leon,” I practically beg, impatience leaking from my pores at this point.

“I don’t know babe, I’m kinda hungry,” he says, and I don’t need to turn around to know his signature smirk is plastered on his face.

“I will let you later, I promise. I need you right now. Inside.” His chest presses to my back, bringing his mouth close enough to hear him as he speaks.

“Later? You saying you want more than just this?” The clinking of his belt is audible over my heavy breathing because of course, I’m the only one out of breath. I nod. “I wanna hear it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah. I like you,” I start, arms splayed out flat over the top of the counter, fingers searching for purchase.

“Maybe we should get dinner after this then?” He asks, still smiling. I nod.

“Fucking finally,” I mutter and upon hearing this, Leon laughs. Not a deep chuckle, not a teasing sound, a real laugh. An almost embarrassed laugh. Hands finding my waist and giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“Took my time with it, didn’t I?” He asks, and I can hear the nerves in his tone. He’s embarrassed. Like, really truly embarrassed.

“Yeah, you sure di-” The words are cut off as he presses the head against my entrance, dipping the tip in for the briefest of seconds before pulling out and repeating the process. It feels like hours of this torture, his teasing thrusts and slight grazes over my clit before he finally, finally, slides in to the hilt, bottoming out in one stroke. We both release groans at the sensation of my walls molding to accommodate his length, twitching, and spasming as I tighten unconsciously.

“Holy shit, pretty girl, I wasn’t expecting you to be this tight,” he growls into my spine, hunched over my frame as he collects himself. When he does, he leans back, hands moving from my hips to grasp my shoulders, bringing my front away from the surface til I’m practically upright, his cock still nestled snuggly in my heat.

“What are you-”

“Now, reload the gun.” His tone sends a wave of slick down around his length, and he rumbles a groan against my collarbone.

“What-”

“I told you that you were gonna fire off those fifteen shots.” My hands shake as I grasp the glock in my hands, reloading and then trying and failing to return to my stance, so I opt to just position my arms correctly. “Good girl.”

My finger in place, I take a deep steadying breath squeezing. Leon pulls his hips back and slams back home as the shot rings out, and I stop a scream from ripping free as my hands fly back to the counter.

“Lee, you can’t just do that.” The words come out as more of a moan than actual words, the syllables slurring together like a girl who’s had one too many drinks.

“Yet you still hit the target,” he says proudly. I look up and notice that there are fifteen holes in the paper. Sixteen total shots were taken and only one missed. Shit if I had known this is how to get good at shooting, I would have asked sooner. “Come on. You got fourteen more, sweetheart.”

The other shots follow the same routine as the first.

Shot.

Thrust.

Praise.

By the time I’m on the last three shots, my whole body feels like it’s on fire, every inch covered in sweat from his punishing thrusts, tears dripping from my eyes.

“You are doing so good, baby. Three more.” He sounds as wrecked as I feel, voice gravelly against my pulse. His hands grip beneath my elbows again, pressing them back into the correct form. “You are so close.”

The bullet hits the paper with an audible pop. His cock slams back into me, tip hitting my cervix hard enough that I’m pretty sure it’ll be bruised. Broken moans fall from my dry lips, mouth feeling akin to sandpaper.

“Good job, baby. Two more.”

“Please just come for me Leon, I can’t anymore,” My arms droop, barely able to hold the weight of the gun that I’ve grown used to by this point.

“Come on, you can do this. It’s just two more shots. You are doing so well,” he reassures before sinking his teeth into my skin, leaving a plethora of bruises and marks across the tender flesh. 

“What if I miss?” I ask, anxiety poking through, mind locked on how he stopped last time.

“I won’t stop this time. You’ve more than made up for the shot you missed earlier.” I sigh in relief. Forcing my arms back up, I try to steady myself before Leon’s fingers find my clit and I squeal, completely losing my aim due to the tight circles he’s rubbing. “Take the shot, baby.”

I fire, bullet catching the edge of the bullseye and I feel a swell of pride before Leon presses a deep thrust accompanied by a swirl on my clit, and his name spills from my lips as a plea.

“Please come for me, please.”

“Tell you what, if you get a bullseye, then I’ll cream this little pussy, how’s that sound, baby?” The pace of his fingers doesn’t change, and I can really only nod, mind barely able to remember why we were in here in the first place.

Taking aim. Deep breath. Squeeze.

The bullet lands dead in the middle of the red target. I practically drop the gun from my fingers, relief overtaking my senses.

“Atta girl,” Leon groans, pressing my frame onto the counter as he picks up speed to a fast pace, leaning down to crowd against me. My fingers reach up behind me, bent at the elbows, to cling to his hair that grazes against my temple as my eyes squeeze shut. His name is a broken sound coming from my lips as the coil in my gut tightens with each twirl of his fingers and each pass of his tip against my sweet spot. “Open your eyes when you come for me, rookie.”

Most of his words are just a jumble as the coil snaps and a scream rips from my already sore throat, but I can make out a ‘good girl’ and ‘creaming my cock so good, gorgeous’ here and there through the haze of my orgasm. It takes a few more thrusts before Leon groans and curses, lips pressed to my spine as he spills himself inside my still-spasming hole.

It takes a few moments for us to move again, deep breaths the only audible sound in the silent room. He’s the first to move (him and his damn stamina), sitting up to stand before slowly pulling his length out, watching as his seed trickles out slowly and groaning at the sight. Leon reaches down, pulling my panties back up and adjusting them into place tenderly, mindful of the soreness he had no doubt was blooming. With a small tug and some slight wobbling on my end, Leon helps me into a standing position facing him now, small of my back barely resting against the edge of the counter as his hands hold me steady.

“You alright?” He asks, and I giggle and smile in response, leaning my face forward into his shoulder. He chuckles to himself, pressing a kiss to my hair. “I mean it, you okay?”

“Mhm. I’m good. You owe me dinner though.”

“Of course, need me to carry you?” I nod through a wave of sleepiness.

“Wait,” I say, hands on his chest as he looks at me, blue eyes shining with concern. “Can you kiss me?” I ask, shyness returning full force, and he laughs again. In favor of answering, he leans forward, pressing his lips against mine in a sweet, tender kiss. His lips are dry, as evidence of our exertion. We pull back from the kiss with dumb smiles decorating our faces, and he pulls my skirt down to cover my panties, planting another quick kiss on my mouth.

“So where do you want to go to eat?”

I step out into the hallway, flat shoes making far less noise than my usual heels. Leon looks at me expectantly.

“So?” I skip up to him, lips finding his as my arms wrap around his broad shoulders. Pulling back, I shoot him a smile before speaking.

“Guess who just passed her firearm recertification with flying colors?” I tease.

“Nice! See? I told you, cakewalk.”

Tags: @house-of-kolchek