Tumgik
#claire browne imagine
midearthwritings · 2 years
Text
EpiPen and Girlfriends
When you show up to the ER after an allergic reaction, Claire and Neil finally learn something interesting about Shaun.
Words Count: 1,016
Pairing: Shaun Murphy x F!Reader
Warning: None
Author's Note: This was requested by a very kind anon! It's my very first fic for this fandom so I hope it's not too bad. Also I used my own allergy for this fic just because—
Tumblr media
Holding a small tablet in his hand, followed closely by two of his three residents, Dr. Neil Melendez walked up to the bed you were quietly sitting on. From your cheeks to your hands, itchy red marks covered your skin, and you had to grip the bedsheets to keep yourself from scratching them manically. 
“Good evening,” the oldest surgeon greeted you, briefly looking up from the tablet. “How are you feeling?” 
You shrugged and smiled. “Not too bad, actually,” you replied honestly. “I just feel like ripping my skin off.” 
Melendez nodded before handing your record over to the young lady – Dr. Browne, her blouse read. “Can you tell me what we have there, Dr. Browne?” he questioned. But she barely had time to look at the record when the last person spoke up. 
“It is a case of anaphylactic shock caused by the ingestion of allergens,” Shaun declared, his hands locked tightly against his chest as always. You nodded even if the question hadn’t been from you and looked down at your hands in shame. 
You had been eating dinner with a friend of yours. The both of you had picked a nice restaurant, not too expensive or fancy. Something just nice. And in your arrogant stupidity, you had ordered the one dish you shouldn’t have. You really thought that it wouldn’t be that bad. But here you were, sitting in the ER. And you were the only person to blame. 
“Thank you very much, Dr. Browne, for your diagnosis,” Melendez said again, staring right at Shaun. 
“My name is Shaun. Shaun Murphy.” Shaun corrected, nodding as if to prove his point. “Claire is standing on the other side of you,” he said, pointing at Claire to indicate her position.
Dr. Melendez shook his head and rolled his eyes, and you had to bite your bottom lip to swallow back a laugh. Looking up at Shaun, you noticed his eyes were fixated elsewhere, and you wondered if he had looked at you at all since their arrival. 
“Can you tell us what happened and when?” Claire asked you in a kind tone, pulling you out of your thoughts. 
“Of course,” you said, shifting on the bed to get seated in a better position. “I am allergic to seafood, but usually it isn’t so bad. So tonight, when I went to the restaurant, I ordered a dish that contained seafood. There was barely any of it! So I thought nothing would happen. And after a good fifteen minutes, my skin turned red, and I had trouble breathing.” 
“I see. Do you still have trouble breathing?” 
You shook your head. “Not anymore. I used–”
“The patient used an epinephrine auto-injector!” Shaun exclaimed, cutting you off. You smiled at him and nodded. “EpiPens help treat severe allergic reactions. Although it is still recommended to go to the hospital since another reaction can happen later on.”
Dr. Browne sighed quietly and hugged the tablet against her chest in frustration. You felt sympathetic for her. It seemed like the poor woman never had any occasion to talk. 
“Well, Murphy, since you are so interested in the topic, me and Dr. Browne are going to let you do the patient check-ups before we can send her home,” Melendez told him. He patted Shaun on the shoulder but quickly retrieved his hand. 
“No,” Shaun simply replied with a small smile, his eyes fixated in the distance. “I can’t do that.” 
Claire’s eyebrows shot up at Shaun’s refusal, and the older doctor crossed his arms and leaned towards him a little like he hadn’t heard correctly. 
“You can’t?” Melendez asked.
“No,” Shaun repeated. “A physician shouldn’t treat a family member, a friend, or their significant other.” 
At that, Shaun finally looked at you and smiled proudly. You felt your heart swelling inside your chest and heat rising in your cheeks. The butterflies in your stomach were so strong that you almost missed Claire’s question. 
“Are you a member of Dr. Murphy’s family?” she asked politely.
You shook your head and bit your lip. “Actually, Shaun and I are–”
“In a romantic relationship,” he interrupted you again. He had done it a lot tonight, and you would definitely tease him about it later. 
Next to you, you heard Melendez almost choke, and you shot him a dark look, making him regain his composure immediately. Claire, on the other hand, was much quieter about the discovery, her mouth hanging slightly open. 
The longer they remained quiet, the more you wanted to laugh. You had no idea why exactly, but it seemed to be the year’s biggest event to them. Eventually, you giggled, bringing their focus back on you. 
Dr. Melendez cleared his throat before speaking again. “Claire, you’ll do the check-up. Murphy, you can follow me.” 
Shaun shook his head and sat down on the chair next to the bed. “I have to stay there. To make sure everything is alright.” 
“Shaun, I am alright,” you assured. “I’m certain Dr. Browne is very capable of doing a check-up.” 
Claire smiled and nodded gratefully. But it wasn’t enough for Shaun. Of course, it was never enough unless he was the one doing the work.
“Claire is capable of doing a basic check-up, yes,” he agreed. “And you are alright for now. Something could happen. You could have another anaphylactic reaction. I need to be there if it happens.” 
After a lot of arguing between you, Shaun, and Dr. Melendez, it was decided that Shaun would be allowed fifteen minutes to stay with you and would then be called back to work. You tried not to show it too much, but it reassured you to have him by your side. 
After a few minutes, you felt his hand slowly sliding into yours, and you looked at him questioningly. 
“I heard it is nice to hold the hand of someone scared,” he explained, looking again at something that wasn’t you while he talked.
You frowned and tilted your head. “I’m not scared?” 
“I know,” Shaun replied, wiping the palm of his hand onto his pants. “I am.”
---------------------
All Time Tags: @imnotevenhere9 @shethereadinghobbit @elvish-sky @katbby16 @dark-angel-is-back @shalinizhara @miriel-estelwen @thewhiteladyofrohan @vee-vee-writes @cameronsails @kumqu4t @wlfstxr @thespiritoflife @myselfandfantasy @spidergirla5 @guardianofrivendell
2K notes · View notes
oinkoink321 · 9 months
Text
Tales of Arcadia and Spiderverse
As a fan of tales of Arcadia AND Across the Spiderverse…….my head is filled with thoughts of Douxie, Claire, Krel, Hobie and Gwen being in a band together. Like my heart cannot I’m convulsing and disintegrating at the thought of them all being friends and playing together. THEY WOULD CREATE AMAZING MUSIC I WOULD DEF BE A FAN!! And imagine being their crush or significant other. LIKE THE SONGS THEY WOULD WRITE ABOUT YOU. As a person that’s in love with all these people I am dying and sobbing. That’s it. That’s all I have to say
126 notes · View notes
pancake-lovy · 1 year
Text
the good doctor fics
Does any of you know some good "the good doctor" imagines where reader is having period? Like, period comfort imagines and stuff Because I need that, but there's none in my sight
13 notes · View notes
porcelainseashore · 9 days
Text
Us
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: Guitarist! Leon Kennedy x Singer! Fem! Reader
Summary: You've joined Chris, Claire and Leon in Stars Rebellion as the band's new lead vocalist. If you thought chasing fame was hard, dealing with your growing feelings for a certain blonde guitarist might just take the cake.
Content & Warnings: Rock bands, friends to lovers, romance, slow burn, feelings realization, fluff and angst, swearing, recreational drug use, drinking, implied alcohol abuse, sexual harassment, suggestive themes, panic attacks, religious guilt, other Resident Evil characters (Chris, Claire, Ada, Wesker, Jill, Luis, Brian, Steve).
Authors' Note: Mostly imagined RE4R Leon in this, though he's a cocky little shit in the beginning and mellows out later. As inspo, I’ve had Ethel Cain’s Michelle Pfeiffer on repeat and you’ll see why in the story. Special thanks to AliBelleRosetta for your wonderful feedback!
AO3 Link
It had only been a few weeks since you’d joined the Stars Rebellion, the band you were currently in, thanks to the recommendation of a friend of a friend. You’d somehow coasted along through college, finally free of your parents’ clutches, and made a new life for yourself along the way. It was as if you could be who you really were, without any tied past or history holding you back, and you’d never felt more alive.
You were backstage, warming up before it was time to head out for your first performance. Chris had come over to give everyone a pep talk, while Leon tapped out a beat on the body of his pacific blue Fender guitar impatiently. Claire was nodding away to her brother’s words as she frowned at herself in the cosmetic mirror, the bright LED lights illuminating her flawless skin. You sat at the back, quietly keeping to yourself as you always do, ignoring the jitters in your hands. The adrenaline was kicking in now, you were used to it. Soon, you’d be a completely different person. It was as if once you were on stage, a match was struck and you were on fire.
For now, you contented yourself with recalling the events of how you ended up with this motley crue. It had been a warm, humid Thursday afternoon, when you were done with your classes for the day, and you made your way over to one of the rental practice rooms at the back of a second-hand record store just a little off campus. Your friend Jill had told you that another friend of hers was looking for a new vocalist for their band. Seeing how you’d been singing on and off with various student bands that never really had the drive to go anywhere, she hooked you up, stating that said friend, Claire, was the most determined person she’d ever met.
So here you were, knocking on the door of the shabby, makeshift rehearsal room, covered in countless band and anarchic motto stickers.
“Come on in!” A chirpy, high-pitched voice called out.
The door creaked on its hinges as you opened it by just a crack, enough for you to poke your head through.
“Aw, she’s a shy one,” a boy with floppy, blonde hair who was sitting at the corner, hunched over his guitar remarked. His tone had no hint of maliciousness in it, just pure curiosity.
“Shut it, Kennedy.” The lady, wearing a distinct red leather jacket that matched the color of her hair tied back in a springy ponytail, rolled her eyes before greeting you with a warm smile.
“Hey…” She stuck her hand out, as you cautiously entered the room, taking in the new faces around you. “I’m Claire. You must be Jill’s friend.”
You returned back a feeble smile as you shook her hand. “Yeah, uh, and the Stars Rebellion, huh?”
“That’s right,” a beefy guy with cropped, dark brown hair behind the drum kit piped up. “Our previous vocalist left,” he paused, with his brows furrowed as if he had been reminded of something unpleasant. “You know how it’s like these days.”
You nodded understandingly as he continued. “We’ve got a sweet gig in about two weeks, so we need a replacement fast. You heard our stuff?”
“Yeah, ’course.” Jill had sent you all the recordings and info you needed to prepare yourself for today.
“Great, so-”
“Whoa, hold up a second,” Claire interjected. “Older brothers,” she sighed. “You know what they’re like.” She pointed towards the drummer. “Speaking of which, that’s my very own one over there.”
“Chris, say hello,” she ordered.
“Hi,” his monotone greeting accosted you while he waved over with a drumstick in hand. His confident and no-nonsense persona struck you as someone who was the natural leader of the group.
“Don’t worry about him, he’s really a cuddly bear underneath,” she whispered loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Isn’t that right, Chris?”
He grunted in reply, still looking as stoic as ever, his square jawline unflinching, as if his sister’s words had no effect on him.
“Anyway, I guess you can already tell, I’m on bass.” She swayed her hips a little, gesturing towards the instrument that was strapped around her.
The blonde cleared his throat, seemingly irritated at being relegated to the position of the last person to be introduced.
“And that.” She pointed over to him. “Well, that’s just Leon.”
With a bold smirk, he cradled the guitar to his chest, as his fingers danced along the fretboard, unleashing a cool, intricate riff that spiraled through the air.
“Also a fucking show off,” Claire retorted.
You caught his gaze and the bright blue eyes that lured you in dangerously close, like you were Icarus flying towards the sun. He was one of those boys your father had warned you about. Handsome, charming, but the devil in disguise. You could still hear his stern words about perdition and hellfire booming in your ear. You closed your eyes before they hurt too much.
“So, erm, why don’t we start with the first track on our demo?” Claire’s voice snapped you out of your reverie.
Blinking your eyes open, you bowed your head slightly in response, before getting into position behind the mic. You can do this. A silent prayer reverberated through your head, as the opening chords played.
And just like it happened every time, that magical switch flipped, and you became someone else entirely different from yourself, yet it belonged to every part of you. As you bellowed, growled and sighed breathily into the mic like a rockstar on acid, you noticed a change in the air around you and how your future bandmates looked at you in awe. It felt like an electric current coursing through your veins. It felt like coming home.
You only needed to go through another two more songs, before they were completely floored and decided there and then that they wanted you in. The vibe between the four of you was great, there was no denying that. And you had already started throwing in some moves that were usually saved for performances with Leon, as all of you jammed together.
“That was fucking awesome!” Leon exclaimed, with Claire following suit. Even Chris was smiling widely.
“Yeah, that felt really good,” you panted, a little out of breath from the exertion.
All at once, Chris patted you on the back, cementing your entry. “Welcome to the family.” You felt your heart tug at the last word. Could you really belong here now?
“Nice to finally have another girl in the band!” Claire blurted out, as she pulled you in for a quick hug.
“Mm hm, very nice.” Leon gave you a cheeky wink, before Claire smacked the back of his head.
“Behave.”
“Oh, I will,” he snickered.
You shuddered, wondering how a silly remark like that could get you so riled up, as you chose to suppress whatever thoughts that came bubbling towards the surface. He was just one of those cocky bastards who would let fame get to their head, you discerned. Probably had a bunch of groupies lined up too. So you paid no more attention to him than needed.
A large, rough hand landed on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “You good?”
You shook yourself out of the daydream, coming back to reality backstage, as you eyed the imposing, broad figure in front of you. “Yeah, I’m ready. Thanks, Chris.”
“Don’t mention it.”
As you strode out onto the stage, the crowd clapped and whistled, though the reception seemed rather lukewarm. Perhaps most of them were waiting for the later bands, who also happened to be the more established ones, to play. It didn’t matter though. Your job was to get them hyped up, and you knew how to do it well.
Leon nodded at you, indicating that he’d start running through the beginning licks of the song on the setlist you’d all prepped. At the same time, he gave you an encouraging smile, which eased the tension a little. Even though you’d only got to know him a few weeks ago, you soon realized that your first impression of him wasn’t exactly the most accurate, and that despite being an insufferable prick, he had another side to him that was caring and gentle. He’d patiently helped you run through the songs with him, and even took a couple of your suggestions in improving them. He hung out with you outside of band practice, wanting to get to know you as a person, and trying to make you feel comfortable within the group. Most musicians had a stick up their ass and would’ve never given you the time of day. But he did. You’d even go as far as to call him a lovable asshole.
As the whirring of Leon’s guitar filled the space, you clenched your fist, pumping it above your head as you let out a low snarl into the mic, before belting out the lyrics, your voice raw and powerful as it soared over the riffs and the steady rhythm of the drum and bass. At a particularly heavy drop, you leaped into the air, before landing on your feet and tearing through the vocals as you rocked out with Leon at the front, playing off the energy you exchanged with each other.
It was infectious, like a feverish dream, and the crowd’s excitement grew. Among the sea of bodies pressed together, you could just about make out the look of enthusiasm on their faces, their eyes sparking with the thrill of the moment, as they jumped, moshed and cheered to the music. Time seemed to pass by so quickly, as one song flew into the other. In between, you made sure to introduce the band, thank the organizers and the audience themselves, coaxing more screams and shouts in unison as you teased them about hearing another song, what it was about, praising them on how great of a crowd they were, and with a sly wink, asking them if they could give you more. And they were more than happy to oblige.
In the final track, a devilish grin broke out across your face as you turned towards Chris and Claire, both of them laughing and shaking their heads as they knew what was coming next, before you faced the audience again. Tapping your foot in time to the beat, you murmured sultrily into the mic, “You wanna see me swallow this mic whole?”
The crowd went mental at the proposal as your velvety laughter rang out across the venue. “Come on, you can do better than that.” You pouted, licking your lips suggestively. “How much do you want it?”
Once the crowd roared, you nodded in approval and pulled the cord of the mic taut between your hands, making a grand show of it, as you tilted your head back, slowly inserting the head of the mic downwards into your mouth. As it went in, you bit at the bottom of the head, gripping it securely between your teeth, as you went hands free and a scream ripped through your throat at the climax of the song. 
Sweat and energy radiated from every pore, as your band members kicked into action. Leon jutted his hips out, launching into a fierce, breathtaking guitar solo, his fingers pressing and weaving in and out of the strings like a blinding lightning. Claire remained the grounding force in a whirlwind of melodies, keeping a consistent beat effortlessly, as her head swayed from side to side. Chris added to the wall of sound with each strike and rattle of the snare drums, quickening the pace as he worked in the bass drum pedals and clashes on the cymbals in perfect timing, his eyes laced in concentration on the controlled chaos unfolding before him.
To say you ended in a bright explosion of sound was an understatement. The four of you hugged each other tightly and bowed to a resounding chorus of cheers and hoots, stamping their feet for yet another encore. You saluted and waved at them, your final words spilling out into the mic in gratitude, “Thanks so much, we are the Stars Rebellion! Have a good night!”
As you headed off stage, Leon pounced behind you, pulling you flush against his chest in a sweaty hug as you gasped in surprise. His hair was in a mess, darkened and clinging to his forehead in damp tendrils. “Holy shit, you were a completely different person up there! Y’know, like Ian fucking Curtis or something?” 
He blabbered on nearly incoherently, name-dropping various famous lead singers. “Karen O, yeah? And Alice Glass…”
“God, just give her a break already,” Claire giggled as she shoved Leon off of you.
You stifled a laugh, your meek personality returning the more you moved away from the spotlight. “Yeah, I guess? Um, thanks.”
Leon paused, looking at you in disbelief as he shook his head. “Jeez, just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Lady in streets, freak in the sheets,” he mumbled almost inaudibly as you choked on your saliva and coughed violently at his quip.
“Leon,” Chris warned, as Leon held his hands up in mock surrender. 
Turning towards you, Chris sighed wearily, “Sorry about that. You did good though.”
Before you had a chance to answer, an alluring, provocative voice interrupted. “You all did good out there.”
Spinning around, you came face-to-face with a stylishly dressed lady in a red, skintight catsuit and dark leather heeled boots. A sleek, black bob framed her face, highlighting her sharp features and high cheekbones. You noticed that she focused all her attention on Leon, even though she was addressing the group.
Leon’s eyes widened, her outfit clearly seemed to pique his interest, and you could feel Chris tense up behind you, as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. At this, Claire whispered into your ear with a hint of venom, “That’s Ada, the bassist of Midnight Sun.”
Midnight Sun. That rang a bell. They were one of the more established bands in the scene, though you’d heard rumors about how haughty they could be and that they would stop at nothing to climb their way up.
“Oh, there you are.” A man with slicked-back blonde hair and dark sunglasses sauntered over coolly. If someone had told you that he was an extra from The Matrix, you would’ve believed them in a heartbeat. 
The look of disdain was prominent on his face as he glanced over at you and your bandmates. He clucked his tongue derisively. “Tell me, what is it like being the warm up crew?”
Leon was about to lash out, but Chris’ reflexes were faster, holding his shoulder in a vice-like grip. Leon huffed, as he shrugged Chris’ hand off, conceding to remaining cordial for now.
“Wesker, you’re on next!” A stagehand called out from afar.
The man tipped his head in response, before wrapping an arm around Ada’s shoulders, pulling her away from your group as he smirked. “Watch and learn, amateurs.”
“Bunch of douchebags,” Claire muttered as all of you made your way towards the dressing room to freshen up. 
From the corner of your eye, you spotted Leon peering over his shoulder another time at the lady in red.
━━━━━━━━━━━
“Seriously? That’s what was written?” You groaned, chucking Leon’s phone to the side as both of you lay sprawled out on a picnic mat across a grassy hill which connected to a park. A couple of liquor and beer bottles littered your side. Clearly, this was more of a boozy brunch than an actual brunch at all. You should’ve known better than to trust Leon to prepare something substantial. However, whenever he was around you, it seemed like he would make an effort to control his drinking habits, at least to a point where he was only tipsy but not wasted each time.
Since the last gig, the band had received many other offers to play at various venues and Chris had been eager to accept them all, in the hopes of attracting a talent scout who would spot and sign you to a major label. You’d gone on stage a few more times, with each round bringing you new fans and followers, as well as getting hounded by music journalists. Claire seemed to have a word for everything and this was no exception. She described them as rats, and in particular, a man named Luis Sera proved to be the biggest one of them all.
You remembered his irritating voice which had a slight lilt to it, as he called out for you after one of your shows in the previous month. “Señorita… hey!”
He definitely had a flair for making a spectacle out of everything that he did, and soon you’d discover that he was also a master of exaggeration. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, mi amor.” He bowed his head dramatically, as he took your hand, bringing your knuckles to meet his lips.
In the end, your band had given him half an hour of your time, only for him to grossly alter whatever answers all of you had provided during the interview when the article was published. He had pitted the Stars Rebellion against Midnight Sun, when in your opinion, both bands sounded nothing like each other and he was just doing it to stir up sensationalist shit. In addition to that, he spent most of the article writing about your looks and sex appeal, as opposed to the actual music.
To be fair, that was part of your showmanship, but it seemed like yet another case of sexism in the industry, where other male vocalists weren’t subject to the same fate as you and the handful of frontwomen, who still cut their teeth and pushed forward.
“Great,” you whined, burying your face in your hands. “Now, not only have we become an even bigger rival of Midnight Sun, he’s got people wondering if I can actually sing at all!”
Leon seemed amused by your mini outburst, but was otherwise unruffled by the comments in the article. “That’s what journalists do.” He shrugged. “Create fucking bullshit and drama. What’s new?”
He turned over to face you, taking your hand in his and squeezing it briefly before letting it go. “You’re insanely talented, you know that. Don’t listen to them.”
You smiled at his affirmation. The past months had flown by in a blur, and along with it, your bond with Leon had strengthened. You were the very definition of fast friends, having discovered many similar interests and common topics of conversation between the two of you. Although he still made the occasional off-putting remark, and was a bit of an attention-seeker, especially among the ladies, you enjoyed the time spent with him. It felt like you could be yourself and could talk to each other about anything without judgment.
Judgment. That word aroused conflicting feelings within you. On the one hand, being on stage felt freeing and you could do so many things there that would’ve been considered shameful in any other public situation. It was as though you could ignore the judgment or were immune to it. Yet, when it was time to return to the ‘normal world’, judgment haunted you wherever you went.
“Got a question though.” Leon grinned, and you knew he was coming up with another one of his pesky jokes again. “Can you sing?”
You whacked his chest as he howled with laughter. “Alright, come on, look. We’ll do it together, ok?” He whipped out his phone again, tapping on his music playlist. “I just wanna hear you sing something softer, please?”
Sighing in exasperation, you gave in to his curiosity, clearing your throat as you exposed the falsetto that you’d been hiding all this while in the city you’d run off to for college. Leon joined you on the backing vocals as you flowed through the song together, while you tried to ignore his gaze which lowered at your lips, seemingly entranced by what he was listening to. A blush crept up along your neck as the song ended.
“Didn’t realize you had that side to you,” he muttered in astonishment. “Where did you-”
“Church choir,” you uttered abruptly, hoping he wouldn’t press further.
“Oh.” That seemed to surprise him even more. “Didn’t take you as the religious kind.”
“I’m not.” You swallowed thickly, looking away.
“Your parents-”
“Don’t know, don’t care,” you hissed through gritted teeth, a little harsher than intended.
“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to-” He cut himself off, before sharing about his background instead. “My parents were kind of shitheads too. Well, mostly my old man.” There was another pause, as he shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Liked the bottle a bit too much.”
“I’m sorry.” You placed your hand over his, as he brushed his thumb over your knuckles.
“Don’t be. The band’s our family now.” He shifted himself up to his elbows, kicking mud off his boots. “Anyway, we don’t have to talk about your folks if you want.”
You softened up at this, realizing that he still had your best interests at heart, though a part of you felt like divulging what you had kept to yourself for so long. “It’s embarrassing,” you began. “Singing like that, kinda reminds me of the past I wanted to leave behind.”
Twiddling your fingers anxiously, you continued. “My parents were very into that whole religious thing. You could say it was almost cult-like,” you laughed nervously. “It wasn’t what I wanted to be, so I got out of it.”
Frowning, you pursed your lips as a vague memory of leaving your hometown amid a heated argument and tears came to mind. “Haven’t spoken to them in years. Probably disowned by them by now.”
“Their loss,” he replied sharply, staring you dead in the eye.
It wasn’t something you had expected to slip out of Leon’s mouth, but he had articulated it so transparently. You raised an eyebrow at him in confusion.
“You could’ve been a great televangelist,” he joked, and you chuckled along with him, finding humor in the otherwise unpleasant subject.
“It’s too bad, isn’t it?” You took a swig of the vodka bottle he offered you, wincing as the smooth liquid burned its way down your throat. “You know, when I’m up there performing, it feels like I can be whoever I want to be.”
“You can be whoever you want with me,” he spoke softly. You tried to search for any disingenuity in his eyes, but found none. “I like you all the same.”
“I like you too,” you professed, only to contort your face in horror a split second later, as you realized the implications of what you had just said. “Uh, I mean, not like that,” you sputtered helplessly. “You know, like-”
He rolled his eyes and snickered. “C’mere.” Tugging at your hand, he pulled you in close, giving you a solid hug. 
Gingerly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, inhaling deeply and relaxing in his embrace. Both of you carried a mild scent of alcohol, but you didn’t care. You were just happy to find a like-minded soul who saw you for who you were, as you did with him.
A random thought popped up in your head that you wanted to run by him that instant. It gnawed at your chest, waiting to escape. “Leon?”
“Mm?” You could feel him nuzzling your neck and wondered if he had gone past being tipsy.
“What do you think about writing a softer song? Like something more emotive,” you explained.
He still didn’t let you go. “I think that sounds great,” he murmured into your ear. “We’ll write it together.”
“Just you and me, us against the world,” he added wistfully.
You wondered what had gotten into him, but the idea of working on this creative project together felt right to you. Like a link in the thread of fate that was meant to happen.
“Us against the world,” you repeated, sealing your fate, as you felt his smile against your skin.
━━━━━━━━━━━
On a hot, sunny afternoon, you were grabbing milkshakes with Claire, before heading over to the skatepark, where another friend of hers, Steve, was trying out a couple of new tricks. He had a slender build and spiky red hair, with a punk aesthetic. In other words, the perfect skater boy. You were pretty sure he had a crush on Claire, but she seemed to be either oblivious or ignored it outright. Whenever he landed a cool trick, he’d look over at Claire for approval, only for her to give him a friendly thumbs up. 
While you sat by the benches, Claire turned towards you, wiggling her eyebrows as she commented, “You and Leon have been hanging out a lot together lately.”
“Uh huh.” You tried to appear nonchalant about it, as you sipped on your milkshake guardedly.
Truth be told, the increasing amount of time spent with Leon was causing certain inconvenient feelings to grow within you. You lied to yourself, claiming you saw him as nothing more than a friend. Falling for a lovable asshole was out of the question, especially one who might break your heart. Yet, the day where both of you drank in the park, accepting each other in ways you never thought possible, constantly replayed in your mind. Then there was the song you were working on together, the late-night calls, and the pick-me-ups for days when either of you needed support. He would drop everything to help you, and you were there when he sought comfort.
Each time you saw him flirting with one of the female fans or exchanging coy looks with Ada, you died a little inside. He was just a horny 23-year-old guy chasing after anyone with legs - at least, that's what you tried to convince yourself. So, you stayed silent about the whole affair, holding back how you really felt about him, in order to preserve your friendship.
“Anything going on between you two?” Claire asked casually.
What else could you expect from a final-year Communications major? Of course, she would have picked up on how weird you’ve been acting lately.
Still, you continued fighting a losing battle. “We’re just friends,” you asserted, poking absentmindedly at the leftover froth and cream in your drink with the straw.
She wasn’t having it though. “The question is, do you want it to stay that way?” Checkmate. You could almost see her gloating at you as you froze.
You shook your head, sighing defeatedly. “It doesn’t matter, he’s into other girls anyway.”
“Have you told him?” Crap, she got you there again.
You just gave her a noncommittal shrug.
“Look, I’m gonna level with you.” She set her drink down with an air of determination, as if she meant business. “In all my sad years of knowing that loser, he’s never behaved this way with a girl like you. Maybe he just needs a little push to see that.” Folding her arms, she cocked her head to the side. “You should tell him.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” You sucked up the rest of your drink until there was nothing more than the bubbly, gurgling sound of air and drops of fluid. With a mischievous twist of your mouth, you added, “By the way, you should probably tell Steve you’re not interested.”
━━━━━━━━━━━
When you had finally plucked up the courage to try and tell Leon about your true feelings, things didn’t go exactly as planned. For starters, he had been rather distracted about the upcoming music festival that your band would be participating in and specifically, a promo event that was tied to it. It was all he wanted to talk about, so you couldn’t get a word in.
“It’ll be the perfect opportunity to get noticed,” he pleaded. “You have to go!”
“I’m not- I don’t do very well in these types of social situations,” you argued. “You know that.”
“Excuses,” he huffed dismissively. “It’s gonna be fun, come on.”
“Chris and Claire will be there with you,” you countered again.
Placing his hands on your shoulders, he declared, “No, I want you.”
Although you knew he didn’t mean it any other way, your cheeks flushed as you turned your head away, heart throbbing at the innocuous statement he had just uttered.
“I’ll be there beside you, the whole time,” he promised. “Please, just come along?”
Biting your lip, you weighed your options, even though your emotions had already gotten the better of you, and you had made your decision regardless of what he might say. “You swear?”
“Cross my heart.”
Unfortunately, you wish you had never agreed to him in the first place, because 24 hours later, you were singing an entirely different tune.
Leon had picked you up and headed over to the event with you as arranged. It was held at a swanky members-only club with a lot of pomp, ass-kissing and too much champagne. You felt completely out of place there, but tagged along like a lost puppy behind Leon, who was reveling in the publicity and getting to know who’s who. A number of the other festival bands were there, but you weren’t particularly close to them beyond a courteous ‘Hello’. You fiddled with the cocktail that Leon had got you, praying that the Redfield siblings would show up sometime soon.
At some point, Leon caught your attention, every so often looking over his shoulder for something, or someone. “I, uh, I need to head to the restroom.”
You nodded in puzzlement, wondering why he seemed so shifty all of a sudden.
“Cool, um, I’ll make it quick.” He gave you a sheepish smile and a wink before heading off hurriedly.
He looked even apologetic? You shrugged off that thought, nursing the lone drink in your hands as you thumbed the fabric of your silvery playsuit. After a while, you checked the time on your phone. A good ten minutes had passed, but he hadn’t returned. Weird, did something happen to him?
As you continued waiting, it started to dawn on you how oppressive and suffocating the atmosphere was. It reminded you of the times when you were surrounded by the rest of the community you’d grown up with in church, scrutinizing your every move. Cold sweat formed on your palms as your breathing grew rapid and shallow. A sense of dread developed within you as your vision narrowed.
Oh god, oh god, not here, no… You latched onto the wall for support, trying to apply the tactics you usually used to calm yourself down.
“Hey there!” Claire’s upbeat voice pierced through the downward spiral you had nearly been consumed by. “Where’s Leon?”
“Um, he went to the rest-”
“What the fuck.” Claire’s jaw dropped wide open and when you followed her line of sight, you understood why.
From afar, you spotted Leon and Ada in tow, sneakily heading out of the restrooms. Bold red lipstick was smudged across Leon’s face as he wiped away at it furiously, and his pants remained unzipped, like an afterthought. Ada combed through her ruffled hair with her fingers, adjusting the bottom of her figure-hugging dress. There were no guesses as to what had occurred there. Your mouth ran dry.
“That fucking-” Claire growled. “Ugh, I’m gonna wring his neck!”
“Claire, it’s okay.” You tried to placate her, but your voice was quivering.
She turned towards you, eyeing you sympathetically as she rubbed your back. “I’m sorry,” she offered. “Well, Chris is getting some drinks. Let’s go join him?”
You accepted, making your way towards the refreshments table, still mulling over what you had just seen. As you picked up a glass of sparkling wine, Claire relayed the entire scenario over to Chris, who just shook his head disapprovingly.
A few moments later, Leon had stumbled upon your group. “Where’ve you been? I was looking all over for you!” He barked, visibly frustrated at your disappearance.
Claire scoffed, and without another word, bumped against his shoulder as she brushed past him. Chris followed suit, without the bumping, though he made a face at Leon as he chugged down his beer. They expected you to come along, but you hung back, giving Leon one more chance to redeem himself.
“What’s up with those two?” he muttered in annoyance.
You held his gaze impassively. “What took you so long?”
“Is this a trick question or what?” He couldn’t look you in the eyes as he tried to evade your quizzing.
But you didn’t let up, not budging from your place until you had an answer.
He threw his hands up in exasperation. “There was a queue, okay?”
A rush of disappointment and heartache surged through you. The least he could’ve done was to be honest with you, but he hadn’t even managed that. He was lying directly to your face, which currently felt as if it had been given a tight slap in humiliation. With whatever dignity you had left, you excused yourself from the table, heading over to the Redfield siblings, as Leon looked on in incredulity and disbelief.
You spent the rest of the evening with Chris and Claire, who were mostly interested in the free food and drink, and knew a couple of the chiller, more down-to-earth musicians on a personal level. In an unexpected turnaround of events, you were actually having fun chatting with people who appeared to be on the same wavelength as you and making wisecracks about corporate functions like these.
In fact, it served as a fairly effective distraction from the boy you were pretending didn’t exist. He lurked around like a shadow, leaning against the walls in the corridors and the sides of the rooms. You saw him everywhere, hovering just within reach. Scowling moodily at you and your newfound friends, he tossed back a never ending supply of alcoholic drinks. You suspected he was on the verge of getting sloshed by now, and although a part of you was concerned about his well-being, you didn’t want to play the role of a babysitter, at least not for tonight.
Towards the end of the night, Chris and Claire had decided to take their leave and you would too, after getting some fresh air by the pool. However, this proved to be a mistake, as the minute you were left alone, you heard heavy footsteps shuffling up next to you. You felt a pit in your stomach, knowing well who it was before even facing the culprit.
“What did I do wrong?” Leon was slurring his words, and his eyes were glassy and bloodshot. The stench of alcohol on him was overwhelming.
Wrinkling your nose, you backed away, stating plainly, “You’re drunk, just take a cab home.”
“Don’t-” He grabbed your arm, attempting to steady himself. “Don’t walk away from me.”
“Leon,” you warned.
“What happened to us against the world, huh?” he retorted.
“Did you think about that when you ditched me to fuck around?” The accusation tumbled out of your mouth before you had a chance to rein it in.
His grip on you loosened, as guilt flashed across his eyes. “That- I, it wasn’t-”
“You’ve always been a bit of an asshole,” you interjected. “But a loveable one, who was also sweet and kind.” Tears started to collect at the corners of your eyes. “Now, you’re just completely horrible,” you spat, with a look of disgust plastered across your face.
Leon’s face contorted in anguish as he tightened his hold on your arm again. “Don’t say that.”
“I don’t like you like this,” you admitted, trying to break free from his grasp, as tears started to roll down your cheeks.
He tried to reach out with his other hand and caress your face, but you pushed it away. “Let go,” you demanded.
However, it seemed as if he couldn’t comprehend why you wanted to be as far away from him as possible. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “Can’t we just sort this-”
Then, something in you snapped. All the times when you had finally had enough and set your boundaries in the past, burning bridges along the way, came to a head. “No!” you yelled, shoving him off you, as he fell backwards and landed into the pool with a loud splash.
Some of the spectators laughed and jeered, as he floundered around mostly in shock, while you stormed off the site.
━━━━━━━━━━━
The next band practice session was awkward to say the least. You were running a few minutes late and when you’d reached, you could hear the shouting from outside the door to the studio.
“... sleeping with the enemy!”
“How is Ada an enemy?”
“You’re always messing things up for us!”
“Okay, break it up you two.”
Expelling a hefty sigh, you swung the door open, and the room fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. You could feel their gaze on you as you placed your bag in the corner before getting to your usual position behind the mic, making sure to avoid any eye contact with Leon. The festival was coming up in the next month, and on top of that, you still had a smaller gig to play in between then. The last thing you wanted was for personal issues to get in the way of professionalism, so you buried your emotions deep within the abyss.
“Hey, um, you, uh-” Leon croaked out, trying to get your attention, but you ignored him, turning instead towards Claire.
“Sorry I’m late, shall we get started?”
Despite regarding you with a look of concern, she obliged and Chris counted off before all of you jammed to the opening song.
It continued on like this, where you gave Leon the cold shoulder. You had stopped hanging out with him and only communicated when necessary. He didn’t realize how much he would miss your company until it was gone. Things felt duller and emptier without you. Whenever he wanted to share his joys, sorrows and just the mundane things that were happening in his life, he’d try to call you, only for it to go unanswered. He left you countless voice messages, each more desperate than the last one, ranging from a mixture of hurt, blame and grief. It had only been a little over two weeks, but he was starved and alone, without the person he could truly count on. The song you had been working on together remained unfinished.
During the smaller gig you were playing at, you rocked out with Chris and Claire near the back, instead of vibing with Leon at the front. Maybe you were being petty with the way you were treating Leon, but he hadn’t given you a proper apology since the incident. The chemistry and connection between the two of you on stage was lost. Nonetheless, you gave the performance your all, and the fans went wild, so much so that when you crowd surfed, you ended up with shredded leggings and a bloody mouth. A random fan tried to grope you, but security intervened and you were dragged back up on stage by Leon, whose eyes were clouded with worry and apprehension. However, the adrenaline numbed the pain and you finished the gig on a high note, leaving the crowd buzzing with exhilaration and the sound of thunderous applause. It was a confidence booster and a great way to warm up for the festival gig.
Backstage, Claire helped you with cleaning the cut on your lip, as you reassured her that you were fine and such injuries were inevitable when you threw yourself headfirst into the crowd. She made you promise not to pull that stunt again, at least for the foreseeable future, before leaving you to finish up.
Just as you were heading out to regroup, an older, bearded man with neatly styled, graying hair and donning a snazzy waistcoat approached you.
“Brian Irons.” 
He held out a sleek, matte finish card with a crisp white background, his name in bold, black font in the center. Below, in smaller, elegant sans-serif type, were the record label he managed and his contact details. A thin, silver border surrounded the edges of the card adding a touch of sophistication. You took it from him, rapt by the design.
“Shall we speak somewhere in private?” he offered, beckoning towards one of the empty dressing rooms towards the end of the hallway.
In your elation and unwillingness to turn down such a timely opportunity, you jumped the gun, accepting his request immediately without waiting for your bandmates. Instead, you messaged them the details and informed them you would join them soon after.
“Amazing show,” he complimented. “You really are quite stunning.”
“Thanks, um, Mr. Irons.” You shifted your weight between both feet nervously, unsure of how to respond. Something in the way he looked at you made you seem like a prey caught in a bear’s trap and his words felt loaded.
“For you, it’s Brian, honey.” His lecherous tone sent shivers down your spine.
“Brian,” you echoed, slowly backing away to put some distance between you and the man.
“So, you kids wanna get signed, huh? Stars Rebellion, wasn’t it?” He advanced towards you with deliberate, measured steps, as if he were playing with his food at the dinner table.
“Y-yeah,” you stammered, regretting the decision you had made earlier and the direction this conversation seemed to be steering in.
“Well, I can certainly help with that…” 
Your back was flat against the wall now, as he sidled up to you, eliminating any space between you as he caged you in with his body. His breath felt hot and heavy against your cheek, and reeked of coffee and cigarettes. As his hand rode up your thigh, you closed your eyes, holding your breath as a nauseating wave crashed over you and you tried not to puke.
“The fuck’s going on here?” A sharp, biting voice sliced through the air like a knife.
Brian pulled away and you saw Leon by the doorway of the dressing room seething with fury and a dangerous glint in his eye.
“Hey, easy there, kid. Just getting acquainted, that’s all.” Brian tried to laugh it off as a joke, but Leon wasn’t having any of it.
“Get away from her,” he ordered, his steely demeanor unrelenting. “Now.”
Brian backed off, but came up to Leon threateningly. “Talking back to me like that?” he sneered. “I’ll make sure you’re ruined, punk.”
Leon took a step closer, issuing an unspoken challenge. “Yeah? Go ahead, sue me.”
At this, Brian cocked his fist back before taking a swing at Leon. Leon ducked to avoid the blow, shoving him aside as he unleashed a quick jab which connected with Brian’s nose. Brian fell to the ground, whimpering in pain while covering his face with both hands. Blood trickled down, staining his shirt as he cowered before Leon.
“Touch her again and I swear to god I’ll kill you,” Leon hollered. “You hear me?”
Brian nodded furiously as Leon walked briskly across the room, wrapping his arm around your shoulder before leading you out with him. Once you were at a safe distance, he cupped your face in his palms, examining you for any further signs of injuries.
“You okay? Did he hurt you?”
You didn’t respond, instead you clung to him in a tight embrace as your body trembled uncontrollably. He held you against his chest, resting his chin on your head as he stroked your hair soothingly. Both of you stayed there for a while, locked in each other's arms, until he suggested, “Let’s get you home.”
━━━━━━━━━━━
When Leon had informed Chris and Claire about the events that had transpired, they vowed to keep a closer watch on you and each other. There was now an agreement that if the whole band could not be present at a meeting, then at least two people at the minimum should be there.
Your band had upped the intensity of the practice sessions, as the date of the festival loomed nearer. However, when Jill spontaneously announced that she was organizing a house party at her place, all of you jumped at the invitation, seeing it as a way to let off some steam.
At the moment, you and Leon were in this weird, intermediary state of being not quite friends, yet not quite on opposing ends either. It seemed as if it was eating away at him inside, since the minute he saw you at Jill’s place, he weaved through the throng of familiar faces and approached you, asking if you were ready to talk about the elephant in the room. It wasn’t possible to keep ignoring him forever and you were tired of all the arguments and drama that had occurred lately. So, you decided to let him into your life again, or maybe just a foot in the door for now.
In one of the quieter rooms of the house, you sat beside Leon as he initiated an apology for the first time for his prior actions. “I know it’s not enough, but I’m sorry, I really am.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “I was a complete dick-”
“Yeah, you were,” you replied testily. “I panicked, when you, um, took your time.”
“What? Shit.” He looked down at his hands in shame, balling them into fists. “I’m so sorry. I really didn’t want that to happen to you.” 
Clenching his jaw, you saw him drown in a sense of self-loathing. “God, I keep fucking things up. Please-” He took your hands in his, squeezing them as if he were proposing. “I’ll make it up to you, just give me another chance to prove it.”
“I missed you,” he whispered. “A lot.” It was as if a dam had broken, and he couldn't stop himself from pouring out all his admissions. “You weren’t talking to me, you weren’t returning my calls…”
“Whenever something stupid came up, all I could think about was how much I wanted to tell you about it.” His eyes glazed over, as if he were recalling a distant memory. “Guess I kinda took you for granted.”
Pressing your lips into a thin line, you made yet another decision against your better judgment. Although you had no guarantee that he would not repeat the same mistake, you placed your trust in him again, hoping that this time he would treat you as you deserved. 
“Okay.” You nodded, offering a weak smile. “We’ll try again.”
You yelped as he suddenly gathered you into a snug embrace, grinning widely from ear to ear. “I got you back,” he murmured into your ear.
“Don’t make me regret it,” you teased half-jokingly.
“Guys, get your free shit! Oh-” 
You and Leon quickly disentangled yourselves from each other as you saw Jill staring with her mouth hanging open. “Did I interrupt something?”
“No!” Both of you exclaimed in unison.
Jill rolled her eyes, her face etched with doubt, though she didn’t probe further. “Anyway, downstairs! First come, first served.” She jerked her thumb in the direction behind her, before trudging off to the next room.
“You wanna?” Leon gave you a knowing smile.
“Hell, sure, why not?” You shrugged, once again erupting in laughter with the boy you wanted to cuddle with and strangle at the same time.
So, that was how both of you ended up lying next to each other, strung out on a mattress facing the window. You knew the drill. Jill’s housemates were creative types whose generosity knew no bounds. House parties with them involved usually meant a certain supply of free drugs, which people could choose to engage in recreationally. You figured you were being very rock’n’roll by doing it, but sometimes you enjoyed how open they made you feel, like you could loosen up and forget about the things bothering you.
As usual, you and Leon had taken the same pills as before, both of you agreeing to take care of each other throughout the duration of the high. He held your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, as you giggled over a topic you had been discussing.
“Ready to watch the curtain breathing contest?” he chuckled.
“There.” You pointed in front of you, indicating that the shades were now moving on their own, like ripples in the tide.
“Atta girl.”
It felt nice like this, laying beside him. You could talk to him about anything in the world and he’d listen intently to you. That’s when you thought it was a good idea to make your confession. 
“I’ve liked you for a while now,” you gulped, your heart constricting though the urge to reveal your secret was stronger. “As in, more than a friend.”
He angled his head towards you, gazing at your expression with an affectionate smile. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“Leon Scott Kennedy, asking me why-?” you snorted, clamping your free hand over your mouth as you struggled to hold in your cackles. As if he wasn’t aware he had a reputation for sleeping around with no strings attached. “I didn’t want to be just another notch on your bedpost.”
He tutted and sighed. “You wouldn’t have been. It’s different… with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re one of the few people who’d tell me exactly as it is, you care to listen,” he explained. “It just feels right, being with you, and… I trust you.”
You were reluctant to take what he had said at face value, after all both of you were tripping. As if sensing your hesitance, he professed, “I like you too, a lot.”
Still, a part of you denied it. “You’re just saying that.”
He groaned in vexation. “Am not.”
“Are too.”
Narrowing his eyes at you, he huffed in defeat, “Look, ask me again tomorrow when we’re sober, okay? Pretty sure I’ll say the exact same thing.”
“Fine,” you conceded. “You better not try anything right now though, ’cause I bite.” Baring your teeth, you snarled at him playfully.
“Uh huh.” He burst out laughing. “You’re kinda high off your face, aren’t you?”
“Just a little.” You winked.
“Alright, let’s try to get some sleep,” he grunted, shifting to his side as he extended his arms towards you like an invitation. “No funny business,” he promised.
You relented, nestling yourself into his arms with your back against his chest. He dipped his nose into your hair, breathing in the peace of the moment. Closing your eyes, you drifted off to sleep, your bodies spooned together in perfect symmetry.
━━━━━━━━━━━
The first rays of the morning light filtered in through the curtains, as you awoke to the collective chirps of the dawn chorus. You squinted, pressing a palm over your eyes to shield yourself from the sun, as you stretched yourself out against Leon’s sleeping body and yawned groggily. He stirred a bit from your movement, but easily fell back into slumber, snoring deeply. You remembered everything you had disclosed to him the night before and it scared you. What if he didn’t feel the same way when he woke up? What if it had all been a mistake? How would you be able to look him in the eye now? You felt anxiety rising in your chest.
Stealthily, you lifted his arm off you, creeping out of the bed and making your escape before you had to face the consequences of your actions. Grabbing your stuff, you snuck out of the room, tiptoeing so no one noticed you exiting the front door of the house.
It was about an hour later when Leon woke up, confused to find you missing from the mattress with him. Though in your rush, you had accidentally left behind your notebook, which you carried around with you everywhere to jot down inspiration for song lyrics. Picking up the chestnut brown, leatherbound journal, curiosity got the better of him as he flipped it open to the page you had bookmarked.
As he skimmed across the words you had scribbled down in your off-beat, cursive handwriting, he gradually realized that they were the draft lyrics to the song you had been previously working on together with him, before the temporary break in your friendship. He re-read the text again to catch the meaning between the lines. It was then that it struck him, you had essentially composed a love letter from within, expressing the depth of your feelings and yearning for him. It made his heart ache that you had been keeping this from him the whole time and he had been blind to it all.
Tapping your name on his mobile screen, he called you right away, but it went straight to voicemail. Fuck. What were you afraid of? He thought he had been clear in how he felt about you last night, but it seemed like you had gone into hiding again. 
Showing up at your place directly after this may cause you to retreat even further, but he was determined to win you over somehow. A plan began to hatch in his mind, as he drove home with your book in the passenger seat. Despite his exhaustion from the party, he set out to work on the music for the lyrics you had written, spending the rest of the day and even pulling an all-nighter to finish it.
After about a dozen energy drinks and cups of coffee, he marched up unannounced to the door of your dormitory, where you shared a room with another final-year student from your class, rapping on it several times for good measure. Your roommate opened the door, but her expression gave everything away before she had the chance to concoct any sort of tall tale. She could never really keep a poker face.
Placing his arm against the door to prevent it from closing on him, he called out your name. You appeared in his view then timidly, mumbling to your roommate that you would handle it. She packed up a few things and left, giving you and Leon some privacy.
“Your book.” He passed it over to you, before setting his guitar case down by your bed. “Open it.”
You glanced briefly at him in mild bewilderment, but did as he asked. It flopped open to a page with a deep crease in the center, naturally showing how frequently that section had been revisited. You gasped when you saw a bunch of chord notes written below the lyrics you had penned down from earlier. Your complexion turned a light shade of scarlet upon realizing that Leon had discovered your innermost thoughts, but there was no awkwardness in his behavior towards you, he was calm and collected.
Unzipping the case, he took out his acoustic guitar and perched himself on the edge of your bed. Resting the instrument on his thigh, he grasped its neck, tilting it slightly as he strummed a couple of opening chords.
“I pieced together the melody for this. Maybe you can join in when you’re comfortable,” he suggested.
It seemed he had memorized the entire song by heart, as he didn’t need your notebook for guidance. His mellow, honeyed voice cascaded through the room as he serenaded you with the song both of you had crafted, albeit separately. Now, you were coming together to bring it to life.
Seating yourself next to him, you harmonized with his vocals, pouring the entirety of your emotions and every moment of longing you had built up within you into the music, until the final note trailed off. Throughout it all, Leon had observed you closely, captivated by the raw, unfiltered quality of your voice and the vulnerability you displayed in your delivery of the lyrics.
His gaze lowered from your eyes to your mouth, as he leaned in, brushing his lips gently against yours, kissing you tenderly. Bringing his hand to your cheek, he caressed it, coaxing soft sighs and moans which he returned as you reciprocated the kiss. Panting as he came up for air, he traced your bottom lip with his thumb, feeling every dip and groove, as if mesmerized by its outline and shape. He didn’t need to utter a single word for you to understand that his feelings for you mirrored those you had confessed in the song.
Closing the distance, he pressed into your lips again, this time more fervently, as the kisses grew in intensity. His nose nudged against yours and you felt his warm breath tickling your skin, as he grasped the back of your neck, taking you deeper, breathing every essence of you in. Clutching his shoulders, you parted your lips slightly as he licked along the entrance, allowing his tongue to meet yours, twirling around it as saliva coated your lips, forming a glistening string between the two of you when you pulled away.
Grazing his knuckles delicately across your cheek, he asked, “Do you believe me now?”
You smiled, claiming his lips with your own in response.
━━━━━━━━━━━
The next time you performed the song live was at the festival, where thousands had gathered to watch the impressive lineup of bands. Chris and Claire had fallen in love with it when you and Leon had showed it to them, and were keen to expand the band’s range into something that delved into the territory of rock ballads.
All four of you wondered how it would be received by the audience, as it was rather different from the punk rock style your band was known for. Even so, you were psyched to finally showcase it to the public.
It was the song you ended with on your setlist, and the one which created such a poignant, special atmosphere, that it became a memory you would treasure forever. The hall fell into hushed anticipation as Leon plucked his guitar strings under the soft glow of the stage lights. Each note resonated deeply, minimalistic and stripped back, which added to the earnesty of the music.
Your voice opened the duet, intimate and haunting, as the melody unfolded like a story being told, rich with longing and a melancholic beauty that ached. The audience stood there entranced, as a soulful rhythm built up with the entry of the bass guitar and drums, adding another layer to the sound.
Leon moved towards you, sharing your mic as he sang his part, cementing a bond between you. Locking eyes with you, he pressed his forehead against yours, mingling sweat and tears as you both continued singing into the same mic, your heartfelt lyrics heavy with emotion. Some of the older people in the crowd sparked their lighters, while the younger ones whipped out their mobile phones, swaying them in time to the music, until everything was awash in a sea of flickering lights.
Your lips and Leon’s were barely touching as the last notes lingered in the air. His faint breath fanned across your mouth, as he swept his fingertips along your jawline, resting them under your chin. The space was thick with palpable tension, and your stomach fluttered just as it had the first time he had kissed you. Like a magnetic pull which he could not resist, he placed his lips over yours, kissing you again and again. It was as if the world had paused, just for the two of you. 
Singing this way no longer reminded you of punishment and shame, but rather of the connection you and Leon had. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he led you off-stage, past the phenomenal reaction of the crowd and the fist bumps shared between Chris and Claire.
Ada came around not only to congratulate him, but also to test the waters and seize the opportunity to flirt. Despite that, he held onto you tightly, maintaining a suitable distance from the woman he had previously been infatuated with, yet feeling nothing deeper compared to what he felt for you. It took him more than half a year, an explosive fallout and a few weeks of your absence to realize that. She smirked and shook her head, walking away as Wesker continued to ignore you.
Some things never change, yet some things had.
“How about some time alone?” he proposed. “Just us.”
Us. It was always meant to be about us.
You nuzzled your nose gently with his. “Yeah, just us.”
367 notes · View notes
ashwhowrites · 5 months
Note
Older! Eddie Munson x reader where Eddie and Y/N flirt with each other until one night, the two of them end up having sex (they were drinking), and Y/N is afraid that Eddie didn't like her and that he was just drunk and she starts ignoring him, and Eddie feels hurt bc he likes her, and when he gets to talk to her again, they end up having sex and confessing
I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3
⚠️ smut
Girl next door
Tumblr media
Y/N has lived alone ever since she turned eighteen, she wanted independence from her parents and to be on her own. She rented out a tiny little house in a quiet neighborhood, and that's when she met the Munsons. Eddie and Claire Munson, a couple that Y/N found herself watching from her window.
They fought constantly, and their loud voices filled the neighborhood. She could hear Claire slam the front door every single time she ran out. She'd come back the next day, but just to fight and leave all over again. It was a marriage that never seemed to have a good day.
Eddie Munson caught her eye the most. His long hair, his mature face, the small amount of facial hair she craved to feel against her. His brown eyes, the eyes that she imagined looking up at her between her thighs. He was a wet dream and she had many.
She wondered what he did on the nights his wife left. Did he sleep in their bed alone? Did he miss her or thankful she was gone?
Y/N knew it was inappropriate to not only have a crush on her older neighbor but even worse to have a crush on a married one. But she couldn't help it.
He filled her mind all the time.
When she was in the shower, her hands between her thighs as she leaned against the wall. The image of him behind her, his chest against her back.
When she stood in her kitchen, the window gave her the perfect spot to watch him work in the yard. His white tank top clung to his wet skin, and his hair tied up. His tattoos glistened up and down his arms.
When she tried to sleep but the ache from her cunt kept her restless. When she pushed a pillow between her legs and moved her hips down on it. Her hand slipped under her shirt as she felt her chest. She'll never forget when she reached toward her window, just inches above her bed, peeled back the curtain, and saw right into their bedroom. Her hips froze on her pillow as she watched him jerk off. His shirt was pushed up on his chest, giving her the glory of seeing his stomach clenching as his hand worked on his cock. She barely noticed that she started moving on her pillow again. Her eyes glued on him as she rubbed her cunt against the soft fabric. His eyes clenched and his head thrown back, the white ropes of cum landing on his stomach. The way his eyes looked over, staring right back at her as she came in her underwear. She immediately moved the curtains back, embarrassment in her body when she realized what she had done.
But nothing ever happened and she never spoke to him. It was a cat-and-mouse game, almost. Sneaking looks at each other through the windows.
After a year, on her nineteenth birthday, Claire left for good. Y/N watched as she threw her bags in the car. Y/N kept an eye on their driveway for months, but Claire never came back. She assumed the couple got the divorce that was needed.
But with Claire gone, Eddie went outside more often. And a few times, Y/N found herself in conversation with him. She cursed herself for being attracted to him even more. He was even more beautiful up close.
Eddie invited her in for a beer on a random Friday night. And they got closer. She learned about his life, and he learned about her. He knew she was young, and apologized if it was weird to invite her in. But she didn't care and he honestly didn't either.
On her twenty-first birthday, he declared it was his duty as a friend to take her to the bar. A year passed of her hanging out with him almost every day, and she couldn't stop herself from falling in love with him. He was older, divorced, and at a different stage in life than her. But that made her want him more. She just feared maybe for him it didn't go past sexual tension.
"You look amazing!" He complimented, a smile on his face as she twirled in her dress. Neither knew her dress would be thrown to the floor in the backseat of his car.
She was drunk and he was drunk, both stumbling in his car. Then before she knew it, their lips met in a heated kiss. They were rushed as they tore each other's clothes off. Their tongues tangled together as Y/N took off Eddie's belt and unzipped his jeans. Her body lay against his seat as he settled on top of her, his cock buried in her as he fucked her. She loved the way he stretched her open, his nails dug into her sides, and his mouth attacking her neck. Her brain melted, all she could do was lay back and let him have his way with her.
"How long have you been thinking about this, huh? Don't think I don't see you watching me all the time." He teased, his voice mocking. "Fuck, baby. You feel so good clenching around my cock. Sweet tight cunt."
She whimpered from his words, her hand moving down to her clit. She gasped as she rubbed her clit, moaning into Eddie's face as she felt herself getting close.
She came as the car shook and the windows fogged.
~~~
That was a week ago.
She barely remembers how she got home, but she remembered the feeling of his cock inside of her.
But she's been too scared to see him since. When she woke up alone in her head, the feeling of his skin ghosted her.
She was afraid it meant nothing to him. That he was drunk and didn't mean it. He wasn't interested and she was too young. She couldn't handle the rejection.
She avoided him as much as she could. When she went out to grab her mail the next morning, he was walking over with a smile on his face. She panicked and raced inside.
Or when she was tanning in her backyard and he walked out to grill. Before he could say a word she raced back inside.
Every day she was close to him but she ran away every time.
~~~
Eddie was puzzled by Y/N's behavior. He thought they had a good night together and to him, the sex was the best he's ever had. He could still feel her lips and the way she clenched around him. But anytime he got close to her, she ran away.
He hated to admit he was upset. He didn't plan to date after his divorce, but Y/N was different. She made him feel things he'd never felt. She felt amazing underneath his body and how she came all over him. The lust in her eyes and smeared lipstick.
He liked this girl and now she won't even look at him. Was it just a little fling for her? Like getting the older guy for fun but nothing serious?
Eddie refused to let another weak pass without clearing the air. He wasn't going to let her ignore him.
He grabbed a case of beer and walked over. He hated that he was a man in his 40s, and scared to talk to a fucking girl.
He knocked on the door, impatiently waiting.
Y/N was shocked to see Eddie on the other side of her door. She didn't know what to say.
"Can we talk? I brought beer." Eddie suggested, holding up his case of beer. Y/N stepped aside, she hid from him long enough and now she needs to be an adult.
They went to her living room. Eddie cracked open the beer and handed her one, then cracked his own. He sat next to her and took a deep breath.
"Why are you avoiding me?" Eddie asked, he tried to sound soft but he couldn't help but sound annoyed.
"I'm not." She shrugged, avoiding his eyes as she looked around the room.
"Knock it off, you ran away every time I got near you. And I thought you were mature and I thought you weren't a teenage girl. But I see I'm wrong." Eddie scoffed. She shrunk in her seat, hating the scolding tone in his voice.
"I don't know if it's because we have different generations or shit, but the way I was raised was when you fuck someone, you don't ghost them. I don't know if that's a younger group type of thing. Where you mess around with no feelings involved. So I can sit here and assume these things about you, or you could speak up and tell me what the hell is going on." Eddie snapped.
Y/N couldn't help but feel turned on by the way he was scolding her. His voice was rough and sharp. She almost wanted him to ruin her and tell her everything she did wrong. She placed her beer on the floor, moving over to his lap.
Eddie watched her confused as she sat in his lap. She grabbed the beer from his hand and moved it to the floor. She took his empty hands and placed them on her back, right above her ass.
"Did I make you mad?" She mocked, her lips moving down his jaw. Her hands moved up and down his chest.
"Yes." He spat, his right hand moving off her body, to slam down on her ass. Y/N moaned and jolted forward. Her cunt brushed over his hard cock.
"I'm sorry for being such a brat about it. Maybe I need to be taught a lesson in manners?" Her bottom lip pouted as her hands moved into his hair, yanking on his curls. He clenched his jaw as his head yanked back. His eyes were on her.
"You want me to teach you?" He played along, his hands gripping her ass.
He quickly switched positions, throwing her on the couch, her knees on the cushions and her body bent over it. He stood behind her, wasting no time to yank down her shorts. He slapped her ass once more. Bending down to bite her unmarked ass cheek.
"Now baby, when I fucked you in my car like the slut you are, did you like it?" He asked, his hand moving her underwear to the side. His finger slowly rubbed her clit.
"Yes, sir." She moaned, her mind already melting as his fingers slipped inside of her. She was soaked and embarrassed.
"And don't you think it would have been polite to tell me that?" His fingers fucked inside of her nice and slow. Her wetness dripped down his palm and her thighs.
"Yes, sir." She gripped the couch as he sped up. The sounds of her wet cunt echoed around them.
"But you decided to be a little bitch and hide from me," Eddie growled, his free hand moving to her chest, and squeezing her breast.
"Now what should you say about that?"
"I'm sorry!" She gasped out, he was fucking her hard, his fingers scissoring inside of her.
"Good girl" he praised, kissing down her spine.
"Want your cock." She begged, reaching behind her. But Eddie grabbed her hand and held it against her back. Leaning down towards her ear.
"Oh no, brats don't get my cock. Especially brats who act like I don't exist." Eddie said
"I'm sorry! I am!" She begged but he refused. Sliding his fingers in and out of her as fast as he could. His other hand reached down to rub her clit.
"Why did you do it?" Eddie pushed, he could feel her cunt clenching around him. He knew she was getting close.
"I...I" all she could do was stutter and moan. Her head spun as she felt her orgasm building. His fingers circled her clit perfectly.
"Tell me or you don't get to cum."
"Please, I need to cum!" She begged but he didn't slow down. Forcing her body to get close.
"Say it!"
"I WAS SCARED! I didn't want you to reject me and I like you and fuck, I've liked you for so long." Her orgasm was right there, two more circles on her clit and she'd be cumming. "I was scared it was only because you were drunk and I'd be too young to have a relationship with you. Scared it was sex and that's it." She panted. "Didn't want to be a young fuck FOR YOU!" she screamed as she came, he fingered her through it. He touched her clit with the perfect amount of pressure and attention. She clawed at the couch as she soaked his fingers.
"That's a good girl. Keep cumming, baby. Give it all to me." He praised, fingering her slowly as he helped her ride it out. Her hips pushed back on his fingers as she rode his fingers.
She fell onto the couch, her body weak. Eddie slipped his fingers out of her, moving her underwear over to soak up her wetness. He gave her covered cunt a harsh slap. He turned her around, his hand on her neck as she faced him. Her face was red as she panted.
"My pretty girl, so much more than a young fuck." He said, his knees on either side of her as he placed himself above her lap.
"Really?" She whimpered out, her voice insecure and weak.
"Mhhm, I like you too. And I've liked you for years. Sure, a young pretty girl catches the eye of the neighbor in a troubled marriage. Teases me through the windows, thinks of me when you masturbate, and even watches me jerk off. Practically a porno in the making. " He teased, a smile on his face. "But what if the older neighbor admitted to his wife there was another woman stuck in his head? So she left. And I finally went after you, I made all the moves and we became friends. We got drunk and had the best sex of our lives. And it was great because there were feelings from both of us." He continued.
"I like you, and it killed me to watch you run away from me." He admitted, his fingers tracing her face.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." She apologized, her hand covering his on her face.
"It's okay, I was scared too."
"Does this mean I get to date my extremely sexy older neighbor?" She asked, wiggling her eyebrows. A warm feeling in her stomach as Eddie laughed.
"Mhhm definitely." He whispered, leaning down to smash his lips on hers.
For the first time, they spent the night together. Her head was on his chest, his fingers playing with her hair. Eddie felt loved and wanted, two things he didn't have in his marriage but he found it in the girl next door.
Tags!
@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37
484 notes · View notes
mrsdarkandyandere7 · 9 months
Text
Daddy's Girl
Tumblr media
Pairing: Dark Tangerine x (female) Reader
▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
More at Masterlist
SUMMARY: Tangerine can’t stand his little girl’s tears, especially when you’re the reason behind them.
WARNING: Forced/Abusive Marriage; Implied Kidnapping context; NONCON. 
AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.
Make sure to imagine that lovely British accent of his, hehe. Also I wanted to wait a bit before posting this, but I wanna share this so bad :) enjoy!
--
The loud noise from the television travels to the kitchen, muffling down the sounds of the knife violently cutting down a carrot. Tangerine has a tight grip on the knife, a pissed off scowl on his face as he spits an unhealthy amount of curses. 
He’s so caught up that he misses the small quiet steps that run towards the kitchen and it’s only when there is a hesitant tug on his sleeve that he looks down, finding a small female miniature of himself, standing in her tippy toes in front of him as she raises her arms, her brown curls bouncing. 
He smiles at her, immediately picking her up, pushing the knife far away. Delighted giggles fill the kitchen as he tickles her. 
“What you doin’ here, princess? Are you hungry, sweetheart, cause lunch ain’t ready yet.” he kisses her cheek, his eyes glinting with pure amazement as he looks at Claire. 
His little angel. 
Claire’s laughter slowly dies down and she plays with the rings on his fingers. Her lip wobbles and when she finally looks at him, her eyes shinny with tears. 
It breaks Tangerine’s heart to see her like that and he wants nothing but to slap the shit out of you for making your babygirl cry. 
“I… I miss mommy.” her voice breaks as she starts crying. Tangerine sighs, hole burning in his chest as he gently pushes her head to his shoulder, rocking her in an attempt to calm her down. His hand rubs her back, her small body shaking as she sobs.
“Daddy, I want m-mommy.” she begs. 
“I know, sweetheart, I know. But mommy still needs some time.” he tries to console her but to no avail. 
Claire cries for what seems like forever and when she finally calms down, Tangerine's shirt is soaking wet, the lunch long forgotten. 
It takes several deep breaths for him to calm down and although he wants to go see you so badly, he puts Claire to sleep first.
He tucks her into her pink bed, placing her favorite teddy bear next to her. A peaceful expression rests on her face, exhausted from all the crying and Tangerine kisses her forehead before leaving the room.
Tumblr media
“She fuckin’ cried herself to sleep.” Tangerine shouts to your face, your scalp stinging as his grip on your hair tightens.
“Do y’fuckin understand that? She fuckin’ cried because of you. Cause you’re a fuckin’ shitty mother, that’s what you are.”
Thick tears fall down from your red eyes and you stumble back when he releases your hair, falling back as you trip on the heavy chain attached to your ankle. 
You fall butt-down, pain alastrating on your back but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even compare to the deep ache in your heart.
You also miss her. So much. It hurts that you haven’t seen your daughter in a week, kept in the basement as Tangerine lies about you being sick.  
“All she kept saying was how much she missed you. That she wanted you to feel better so she could finally see you. Fuck!”
“I…I’m so sorry.” you cry out. Tangerine only glares at you, nostrils flaring up. 
“This is all your fuckin’ fault. You just had to act smart, didn’t ya? Fucking’ hell.” his hand meets the wall with a loud bang and you wince, burying your face in your hands, frightened.
You’ve never seen him this angry before. Not even at the few times you tried to run away years ago. For once you’re actually glad that the basement is sound-proofed so that Claire doesn’t have to witness any of this. 
You messed up. Baldly. You should have known better than to plan an escape from Tangerine. 
But you were exhausted. Deeply tired of playing house with Tangerine. As much as you love your daughter but you want a better life. For yourself. For your sweet daughter. As much as you smile and laugh, pretending to be happy and in love with Tangerine for the sake of your daughter, you had reached your breaking point. 
“You're a selfish little’ bitch, only thinking ‘bout saving your own ass.” he snarls. 
You shake your head, desperate. 
“No! That’s not- She’s my daughter too.” 
Tangerine stares at you for what it seems forever and you hold your breath, watching him with a runny nose that you struggle to wipe with the back of your hand.
His hands on his hips as he considers you, neck veins bulging. He runs a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated as he exhales heavily.
“If you really love her, you gonna fuckin’ behave from now on. And I fuckin’ mean it. No more fuck up’s.” he warns you. 
Blinking away the tears, you nervously nod as he slowly walks towards you before stopping in front of you.
“Ya mean it, right? Then fuckin’ prove it cause you’re not leavin’ this basement without provin’ me that you can do better.” 
Confusion fills you until you see the look on Tangerine’s eyes. With shaky hands, you reach for his belt but he moves your hand towards his shirt and your heart drops. 
Not this. 
Tumblr media
It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. You’re barely wet enough yet uncomfortably stretched by your husband’s cock as he slowly thrusts into you.
Given how angry he was, you were expecting him to fully rail you so you were surprised as he went at a slow, calm pace. Good for you.
His head is buried in your neck, low groans coming from him. It’s feel like an eternity as he fucks you gentle and deep till you lose track of time.
You suddenly hiss when his cock rams deep inside you, the thin old mattress softly squeaking under your combined weights. 
He pulls himself on his forearms, facing you as he starts to speed up, quickly slamming his hips forwards with a renewed force and you cry out, hands bawling the sheets. 
“S’ fucking’ tight, darling.” he husked, his sweaty curls falling to your face as he presses your foreheads together. “Gonn’ cum soon, fuck.”
His breathing halts as he fucks you vigorously, urgency in his thrusts. He doesn’t last longer, your velvety walls tightly squeezing his cock just the right way for him to approach his orgasm.
“Fuck, oh, fuck.” with a final harsh thrust, his body tenses up before finally relaxing. Tangerine releases a loud grunt, reaching his high while being balls deep inside you, his hands coming to grab your face as he connects your lips into a needy kiss, the bitter taste of cigarettes on him. 
When he lets you go, you release a shaky breath, feeling gross and violated with his cum beginning to leak. 
His nose touches yours, skin shiny with sweat and his blue eyes half-closed as he exhales, the warm breath hitting your face. He doesn’t seem that angry anymore, men really think with their dicks. 
“That was fuckin’ nice.” he smiles, his knuckles sweetly fawning over your cheek. “Maybe we should consider giving Claire a sibling. I think she’d love a baby brother.”
Tumblr media
977 notes · View notes
rwprincess · 2 years
Text
Stacked (BenderxFem!Reader --Smut--)
Masterlist
Word Count: 4.2k
Synopsis: A good girl has gone bad for Bender. BenderxFem!Reader smut, in the library, as the only two in detention.
CW: No plot, only smut; semi-public sex (p in v with condom); virgin!reader; fingering (f receiving); some breast play; pet names: honey, good girl, baby, sweetheart, sweets; mild degredation (verbal); weed mention
Tumblr media
You probably would have categorized yourself as a ‘good girl’ before that fateful Saturday of March 24th, albeit one who slipped up just enough to land yourself in that Saturday Detention in the first place. You had made it through most of your high school career without feigning illness to stay home or cutting class, but oh no, the one time you decided to skip was the time you would get caught. It felt like the universe was conspiring against you when Vernon caught you and your two friends sneaking back onto campus through one of the back doors in the East Wing. It was like he knew you had all gone out and was just waiting for you to come crawling back. You immediately lamented to yourself that you should have never let your friends convince you to play hooky, that your life would be over and you’d be suspended for sure. You consider yourself lucky to have only earned Saturday school and had arrived that morning ready to pay your penance and return to your title of ‘good girl.’ That is, until you met John Bender. Since then, you tried everything in your power to toe the line to get as many Saturday Detention slips as possible, knowing he’d be there.
There was just something about him that drew you in, like a spell had been cast over you or something. You knew you should have been disgusted and horrified by the things he said to Claire, but your instinctive side made you feel prickly and hot instead as he questioned her, “Have you ever been felt up? Over the bra, under the blouse, your shoes off, hoping to God your parents don’t walk in?” Your brain took it as more of a suggestion and you immediately imagined Bender doing just that to you, while you’d card your hands through his long, soft brown hair. You were sure your breath audibly hitched but he didn’t seem to notice, his predatory stare locked on Claire as she swallowed hard and answered, “Do you want me to puke?” Of course, she hid her desire better than you did. Or at least, outwardly protested. But that didn’t stop her from getting to Bender by the end of the day and you had never felt the fiery jealousy that broiled in the pit of your stomach until you saw her kiss him and hand him one of her earrings.
There was just something about him, the way he spoke terrible, filthy things, yet it was coupled with a sweet vulnerable side that you couldn’t resist. You kept your distance at first, flippantly dismissing it as a whirlwind crush…at least for that week or so that he was ‘dating’ Claire. It didn’t take long before that fizzled out, though, and your pangs for Bender came back full-force. It was easy to make it seem like a coincidence those first few Saturdays, “Oh, God, I can’t believe Vernon found me cutting class again,” you’d lie. But John was always one step ahead in reading people and figured you out soon enough.
“You again?” He smirked, walking into the library on one warm April Saturday.
“What can I say? I’m spiraling out of control.” You grinned in response, delighted by his attention…and the fact that it seemed to be just you two this time.
“Mhmm. What are you in for this time?” He questioned, making himself comfortable in his seat next to you at his table. You knew where he always sat and maybe just happened to choose the chair next to his, incidentally, of course.
“Smoking.” You say quickly, quietly. Which spoke volumes to your desire to come here, to see him and spend another weekend with him.
“I’ll say.” He eyed you up and down, making your cheeks turn red before you were interrupted by Vernon coming to berate the two of you. Of course, this was one of John’s pre-assigned detentions from when you first met him. Which retort had earned him this one? ‘Oh, I’m crushed’ or maybe ‘Not even close, bud!’, you wondered while biting back a smile at the memory. You loved the way he stood up to Vernon. It had concerned you a bit at the time, as both escalated and became louder, but it also thrilled you to see him question Vernon’s overinflated sense of authority.
“This should not be your role model, Y/N,” Vernon started to come to a close, indicating John, “If you don’t clean up your act, you’ll just be a female Bender.” 
You scoffed in response, “Promise?” You raised a challenging eyebrow and heard Bender snort, only encouraging you more. 
“Watch it, missy.” He addressed you again, slapping down a worksheet that all of you knew wouldn’t get done, but at least he seemed to have learned his lesson with the ‘essays’ after Brian told him where to shove it, courtesy of The Breakfast Club. He exited in a huff and Bender turned toward you.
“You know, he’s right,” he tutted, clicking his tongue in mock-disapproval, “you’re really going to the dark side. Skipping class and now smoking? I don’t know what to do with ya, kid.”   ‘I have some ideas,’ you thought, silently, while eyeing him. “Tell me, did you just have enough of being perfect all the time, or are you just here to see me?” He grinned deviously, trying to tease you, to get a rise out of you. However, he didn’t know that you were committed to the idea of being with him, to putting all the worry and shame behind you. You’d spent enough time here to repel the shackles of conformity and caring, you were ready to flirt shamelessly and see where that led you.
“Little bit of column A, a little from column B,” you admitted, taking pride in the resulting flustered expression from Bender. It was clear he didn’t expect this change from you. While he sat gaping at you like a fish, you stood up and confidently strode away, knowing Vernon wouldn’t be back unless there was some type of commotion. You sat down, leaning against a shelf of books knowing that Bender would eventually come to you and smirked at the thought.
It didn't take long for your plan to have the desired effect: Bender couldn't resist having attention and someone to talk to, after all. What was he going to do, his assignment? No, you knew he wouldn't let Vernon win. He tried to seem nonchalant about it, as if he were just coming over and actually selecting a book and oh my, you just happened to be here! You half-smirked in victory as he took a seat on the floor next to you.
“So what, pray tell, has brought you here today? I mean, I know the literal cause is for smoking, but I want to know the psychology of it. What made Shermer High’s resident good-girl go down this dark path? How did you,of all people, decide to go bad?” He asked, lowering his voice to a husky tone that left an inching heat between your thighs.
“Hmmm,” you hummed lightly in response, his eyes snapping up to your face while they had previously drifted down. “It’s kind of a secret. Do you want to know?” you lowered your tone conspiratorially, then leaned in towards him after he nodded. Your whispering breath tickled the shell of his ear as you admitted, “You. You are what changed and why I’m here today.” You pulled back and gave him a sickly sweet smile, amused by his responsive gulp.
“Was being innocent always an act, then? You seem like you can just turn it off and on, the way you smiled just now.” 
“Hmm, no.” You giggled in response. “It’s just that…when I met you, I found out that being perfect and preppy wasn’t the only way to live. I was so nervous that first day and thought I’d ruined my life. And then I met you. You were just so cool and didn’t overly care what people think.”
“It comes at a price, you know.”
“All of your Saturdays for all eternity, apparently.” You shrugged.
“It’s more than that,” he looked down at the ground. “I’m not exactly Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky.”
“No, I know that,” you replied, “but you’re more free than anyone I know. They all have sticks up their butts.” You said and he laughed. “Plus, I’d be interested in changing that, in making you happy.” You bit your lip, looking up at him with what you hoped was a meaningful expression…that he’d take the hint. 
He seemed to understand what you were implying because his eyebrows shot up. “What--What exactly are you proposing here?” He asked, taken aback. You had seemed as inexperienced as Claire and Allison when he had met you, and he didn’t think that had changed in the last month or so…unless you were lying in the first place.
“John,” you looked at him directly in the eye as you placed a hand gently on his thigh, “that’s up to you really, isn’t it?”
“Fuck,” he whimpered, meeting your stare. He was almost afraid to make the first move, scared that you would reveal it was all a joke at his expense, that it would all end in utter humiliation. But you just batted your long, dark lashes at him and gave that thigh a gentle squeeze, causing him to throw caution to the wind. He quickly grasped your face between his hands and kissed you, roughly. You let out a light moan to encourage him, and he moved his right hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer and holding you near.
His lips were surprisingly soft against yours and his years of experience showed. You instantly repaid each of his kisses with your own, leaning forward into him, and bracing one of his wrists, wrapping around it with your hand. The way your lips moved in tandem, synching with your desires and your heart beats only made this feel more right. You obliged his curious tongue as it swept along your lip, begging to explore your mouth. You parted your lips softly, your breath intermingling with Bender’s. You broke the kiss a few moments later, pulling back, out of breath. Bender began kicking himself internally, fearing that he’d crossed a line or that you would finally reveal that you were just messing with him. He looked away, dejectedly, but you didn’t let him keep the wrong idea for long. You repositioned yourself and began to climb into his lap. He whipped his head back up, brown irises and pupils growing wide at your bold stance. He certainly wasn’t expecting that. You eased yourself down, your hips resting snugly against his own, pressing your chest into his.
“You didn’t think I was done, did you?” You smirked down at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, resting them along his broad shoulders. “Honey, I think we’re just getting started.” Sure, you lacked experience, but after you drank in that first kiss, you were hooked and didn’t want to---no, couldn’t stop now. You needed more, even though you weren’t sure how far that extended yet. At this present moment, you were willing to fuck Bender in the library today, right here amongst the stacks. In fact, you were kind of hoping for it, but you didn’t wholly want to push your luck. For now, you connected your lips back to Bender’s, thrusting your tongue into his mouth, desperate for the sensation of your tongue colliding with his. The soft pinks flexed against each other as you threaded your fingers through his hair, running your nails softly along his scalp. 
Bender tried to have some restraint. It’s the thought that counts, right? He didn’t want to move too fast or make any assumptions. At first, he had his hands along your face, then arms. He pinned them next to your waist and gave tentative squeezes as you deepened your kisses, but he could only resist for so long and needed to test the waters. He slid his hands down to your butt and pulled you forward, up along his lap, just a bit. You hummed appreciatively against his lips, and he took this as a good sign. He dug his fingers into the meat of your ass, massaging the dough and muscle there. His touch made you instinctively roll your hips forward, the sharp bones digging into him and creating an aching friction. He groaned as you pulled away and started to kiss down his jaw to the tender skin of his neck. “Are you---sure---you want this?” He panted out, trying to regain his breathing from your previous kisses to his lips. You only answered with a gentle tug to his hair, pulling his head back just enough to give you more access to the crook of his neck and his collarbone. Another lust-filled groan left his lips, urging you to continue. You could feel your desire dampening your clothed core, causing you to give another roll of your hips, which in turn caused Bender to buck upwards. Combined with his tight grip on your behind, you could feel the straining bulge growing beneath you, yearning to touch you. You smirked into his neck before you pulled back, stopping all sensation. You almost could have sworn you heard him whine in protest.
“You’re surprisingly quiet,” you mused. “I thought for sure you would have a million filthy things to say.”
"Honestly, I'm still a little in shock that this is actually happening," he confided, opening up in a rare moment of vulnerability. "You have no idea how much I've thought about this. About you. I'm not convinced it isn't a dream."
"Mm. Something to pass the time in another lonely Saturday detention?" You purred in response, tightening the grasp on his shoulders.
"Yeah," he licked his lips, eyes scanning your face and lowering down your body, "something like that." 
"Don't worry, baby, it's real." You chuckled darkly, bending to kiss his neck again, "and I think I have some idea how much you've thought about this," you ground down against him, indicating your awareness of his hardness, but also added, "because I've thought about you, too. Every. Night." The implication had his mind racing and he gripped you fiercely, placing a rough kiss to your lips. 
He couldn't contain himself much longer, and wanted to oblige your fantasies as well. His hands roamed your body with intense fervor. His touches were no longer hesitant, they came to you with a needy, almost bruising force. He palmed your breasts over your shirt, before squeezing them harshly, causing you to let out a mewling whine. "Please, John. More," you panted in response. His deft hands quickly slid up your shirt, eager to please, and snaked under the silky fabric of your bra. He relished in the warm squish of your skin and plucked one of your nipples between his index and middle fingers, sliding it down into the curve between. "Yes," you whispered in a high-pitched moan, which crumbled to a deep and gravely tone as Bender's teeth sank into your neck. 
He started to unleash his other hand, trailing down your stomach to the button of your jeans. When you didn't protest, he clicked them open quietly, tugging the zipper down gently. He dipped his hand into the spot he had made available, feeling you over your panties. "Fuck, you're so wet already," he groaned against your ear.
"It's cuz I want you … s'bad." You whined in response, desperate for him to touch you, to give you some kind of relief. 
"You're sure?" He asked. He still wasn't entirely certain of your level of experience, even though you were matching him on-par at this point. He was impressed, but still wary that you would call a stop to it, or regret it later. He'd been in those situations enough times. 
"You were just commenting on how wet I am. For you," you pointed out, "please, Bender, don't be a tease." You mocked him slightly, knowing he thought all girls were teases instead. He gave you a gruff growl in response and slipped his fingers wordlessly into your underwear, using the slick from your folds to coat two of his fingers. He slid them into you, easily, causing an electric shock of desire to jolt through your whole body. It was so different from the touches you had administered to yourself while thinking of him. So much better. 
"Don't ever think that John Bender doesn't deliver, sweetheart," he grumbled against the skin of your neck, making sure he was close enough to your ear for you to hear him. Your walls instinctively clenched around him, aroused by his commentary. "Mm, you like that? You like when I call you 'sweetheart?' Or do you just like having my fingers inside you, fucking into you?" He asked, amused. You nodded quickly, which made him chuckle in return, "Well, which is it?" 
"Both." You replied, then moaned loudly as he flexed his fingers in you. 
"God, I love hearing that. Don't hold back, sweetheart. Keep moaning for me. I'll make it worth your while." He said, and you weren't sure what he meant, exactly, but you were eager to find out, so you let out another low moan to encourage him. He delighted you by adding another layer, an insistent thumb that brought circles to your clit, increasing your pleasure tenfold. 
"Mmf! Fuck!" You breathed, arching your back, pushing your hips forward into his touch. "Yes, John. Just like that. Please." 
"Mm. Where did that controlling girl go? Now you're so needy and begging for it." He smirked.
"Shh," you hushed his criticism and bent forward to kiss him hungrily, tiny breathy moans escaping from the seal of your lips as your orgasm started to build. You bucked against him, riding his hand to seek your high, hands now tangling in his hair. You pulled back to whisper, "I'm so close, John. Please. Please make me cum."
"I told you, baby. I always deliver." He quickened his motions to bring you over the edge and you called his name, feeling it echo in the otherwise silent library. He stroked you a couple more times before slowly pulling his fingers away, letting you come down. "If you think you can stand, I wanna show you even more." He raised an eyebrow at you and you nodded, complying immediately. He was right, your bold nature was gone, replaced by a submissive nature that only focused on the desire for more. You stood up quickly, awaiting directions. "Turn around and grab the shelf." He commanded, climbing to his feet, giving an amused huff of a laugh when he saw how quickly you obeyed. He rummaged around in his wallet for a moment, procuring a condom and holding it in front of your face while he stood behind you, close enough that you could feel his erection brush against your ass. "I want to fuck you. Is that alright, sweetheart?" 
"God, please, yes." You rubbed your ass against him, seeking friction and he laughed again. He tugged at your bottoms, shaking them down your thighs in preparation, then pulling his own down. You heard the rip in the foil and gulped. You were still keen to do this, you needed him inside of you, but your heart pounded in fear and you paused for a moment. "John? I've…I've never done this before. Please, take it easy on me." You confessed and felt your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. 
"Mm. With how good you've been, you could have fooled me." He mused, running a hand down your side, making you shiver. He leaned forward and you could feel his chest pressed against your back as he nudged his chin onto your shoulder. "Don't worry, sweets. I'll take good care of you." He purred back. Yours was not the first virginity that John Bender had claimed, and you were pretty presumptive of that fact. "Bend forward just a little more," he recommended, and you complied. "Good girl," he hummed, making you feel another wave of wetness flood your core. 
He grasped himself in one hand and led his controlled tip against your folds, allowing your arousal to lubricate the condom as he ran it down the shaft. "I'll go nice and slow, baby. I won't hurt you…unless you want me to." You pressed back against him, his words making you feel anguished for contact. He laughed lightly at the effect he had on you, and gently grabbed your hips to steady you. "You ready, sweets?" He asked and you nodded vigorously before feeling him enter you, stretching your walls slowly to accommodate him. It wasn't painful, but a bit uncomfortable as he inched his way in. You'd never felt so full before and it was definitely something you had to get adjusted to. He was slow and patient, as promised, letting you get used to each bit of him before adding more. "You doing alright?" He asked and you nodded. "Good, 'cuz you are so fucking tight, I wasn't sure," he growled and you instantly felt dizzy with desire. He finally had reached the hilt, having pushed all the way into you. "I'm gonna start moving. I wanna fuck you, okay, baby? You tell me if anything doesn't feel right." 
You nodded again and let out a pathetic, "Please, fuck me, John," that made him want to turn feral, but he remembered his promise. He'd take it easy on you…this time. 
He pulled back and gently reinserted himself. "You drive me fucking wild, saying shit like that. You know that?" He asked and you mewled at the feeling of him filling you back up, gripping the bookshelf just a bit tighter. "All you ever had to do was ask, sweetheart. I've been dying to fuck you six ways from Sunday since we've met. You're so, so pretty," he started to pick up the pace with his words, withdrawing and then pressing back into you, "with those big eyes and their fuck-me stare. I was hoping you wanted me. That I wasn't just imagining it. I thought, oh no, a good girl like that can't be into me. Too innocent. Too sweet. But I was wrong, wasn't I? Deep down, you're just as filthy as me. Begging to be fucked in the library? Because you have detention for smoking? My, my." There was that dirty talk you longed for. 
"Mm, yes. I wanted you so bad. From day one, John. I---" you gasped as he hit a particularly sensitive spot, "had to have you." He pulled out and plowed back in with a renewed force, spurred on by your sultry confessions. You moaned and dropped your head forward, feeling your legs beginning to quake. It was so hard to keep yourself upright while he talked to you the way he did, and while he fucked into you with unbridled desire, possibly as strong as yours. You began to see stars as he brought one of his hands around to the front, running a finger against your swollen clit. You could feel heat radiating off him as his chest pressed against your back, tightly fucking into you and keeping the perfect pressure on the sensitive bud. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, groaning his name. 
"Yes baby, take it just like that and say my name. Fuck, you feel so good."
"Jesus, Bender. You feel even better. I'm close."
"Ohh yeah, baby. Cum on me. Cum while my dick is buried deep in that tight little pussy. Make me cum for you." He grunted out between thrusts, making your head spin and your body lose control. With a final loud moan, your walls clenched around him in your release. 
"Fuck, fuck, John! S'good. Please cum for me, baby. I want you to feel good, too." You muttered, feeling nonsensical in your words, but he still responded.
"Don't worry, sweets. You're making me feel amazing. Won't be much longer, with a pussy this tight and good. I'm almost there. Hold on, hold---" he couldn't finish his thought as he reached his climax as well, digging his fingers into your hips with a bruising force, snapping his own hips up to chase the sensation of his high and you cried out at the sudden burst of friction, taking him deeper in than before. He stilled for a moment, catching his breath and coming back down to reality, surprised to still find you there and to know this wasn't just another wet dream, his subconscious reminding him of what he couldn't have.
He kissed the side of your neck before pulling out of you all too quickly, the fullness replaced by emptiness. You immediately pouted, glad you were turned away from him so he couldn't see the effect he had on you. He was zipping up as you stopped to pull your own pants back up your legs. 
"That was…amazing. Jesus Christ, Y/N, you've been holding out on me," he teased and you pushed him gently. "Ho hum, what to do with all these hours left?" He asked with a smirk.
"I could think of one or two things," you raised an eyebrow at him.
"Well, I do need some time to recuperate," he said, pulling a baggie of weed from his front pocket, "you down with just this for now?" He offered.
"Whatever you want, sweets." You purred at him, kissing him on the cheek. 
979 notes · View notes
xmortuarykittyx · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
Ever Locked
Part 2: On the Rocks
Part 1: New Beginnings?
Tumblr media
pairing: Older!Leon Kennedy x Ex!Coroner’s Assistant Reader
warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, talks of enjoying inflicting emotional and physical pain on another, getting off to crying, jerking off, crying, talks of imagining sex, male and female body parts
extras: this fic will also be slow and longer, we’re telling an entire story, i want it to be detailed with Reader and Leon as well as introducing Marina and Ryan. I hope you guys enjoy i have so so so many ideas and rough drafts already written. next part should be out Saturday! and i may write another and post it Sunday as im off both days <3
Tumblr media
Glass, wet to the touch, my finger dragging across it to leave a small smear mark between the residue. The ice clinking to the side of the glass as the cup was lifted to my lips. That dark haired girl had said she'd be in soon. I could wait, I'd waited 7 years to see her again. I wasn't waiting any longer than I had to. The amber liquor burnt on its way down, the dribble sliding down my cheek, black leather sleeve coming up to wipe away the drop. She'd be here soon... just be patient, Leon. She's gonna be hesitant at first but... I was so loving to her. Those damn coffees and breakfast- was what we had not good enough for her?
  All those years, the day the world ended, so had mine. I lost her, part of me actually thought she'd died in the mess that was Raccoon City. September 29th, 1998. Now it sat, September 26th, 2004. 7 years since I've felt the warmth of her body, the softness of her hair... since hearing those beautiful moans and whimpers of pain. I needed her, those 7 years passed quickly. From meeting Ada, Claire and Sherry, to being pulled into the government and told that with my joining USSTRATCOM, Sherry Birkins would live a normal life, the choice truly wasn't mine. I wanted a life of a normal man. A wife to come home to, soft lips to kiss good night, preferably by now, age 28, I'd have a kid or two- preferably with the woman i set out to find once more, the shy coroner's assistant. Instead, I'm a DSO Agent, currently under MIA status, I knew I was in for it the moment anyone found me. My... habits have become a bit more... flavorless. The whiskey in front of me the 20th bottle I've probably had in the last month. Sliding from shit hole to shit hole, waiting until closer to the anniversary of the day she slipped from my fingers, to trap her once more.
 
  Of the two of us, i'm sure i've changed the most, my hair darker, a brown instead of that bright blonde i was so proud of. My beard had slightly grown out, no razor was worth leaving the bottle or whatever hotel i huddled up in. The shitty lighting of the bar didn't hide her though.  As soon as she walked in, I knew it was her. She hasn't truly changed, much, after so many years. Her hair was longer than before, her eyes more tired than I was use to seeing. What was causing her such restless nights? Did she miss me as much as I missed her? I knew the government has sent her off with some money and her car before they blew the town to hell and back, but that's all they'd tell me, not a where she went or even an answer to "how was she?".
   My eyes didn't leave her, specifically her chest as she chatted with the shorter girl. That shirt nearly had her everything on show, men staring down her shirt as they passed, catching a glimpse of the top of her breasts, before she disappeared behind the bar. The other girl looking down at the ground, where she crouched.
   It didn't take long for her to pop back up, cleaner and a dingy rag in her hands. She wiped idly at the empty bar, her eyes still lingering on the other girl. She was very chatty, she talked about how much him and her friend would be perfect... she was right. That woman was perfect for me, I didn't plan on leaving the weeping town without her. I drove my ass over three thousand miles to see the girl I dreamt of holding every night... dreamt of pounding the ever loving shit out of her. Wanted to see her swole with my child, I stayed up at night, wondering if our child would look like her... or me. Would they have my blue eyes and her hair? Her eyes and my hair? I hope they got her lips and eyebrows. My chin fell to my chest, a soft sigh falling from my lips, a smirk causing the corners to twitch. I wanted that life with her... but she ran. She could've waited for me, asked them to tell me where she'd be. Then again, i don't think anyone thought i'd survive those years in between, in training under Jack Krauser.
  My eyes flickered back to the bar, wanting to see her face once more, to study her in her new habitat. The first thing that caught my eye was a manicured finger pointing at me, that girl had a big mouth- a growl fell from my lips for a moment. She couldn't have just not told her? She had to give away his position and all? Then, my eyes scanned the woman next to her, ending at her eyes, the same smirk on my lips. God, I've missed her. The glasses between her fingers fell to the floor in a sharp crash, her body stepping back instantly. I couldn't help but laugh, my chest rocking as i thought about how careless she always had been. Something's never change, bunny... some things were destined to be- we were destined to be.
  We were. We always had been, a shy, careless bunny and her protective, dangerous wolf. Her figure ran, fast as she whipped out the Motorola Razr, pink... fitting for her. She must be making more money here than i thought. A five hundred dollar cell phone, she could afford that on a bar salary? I don't think so... there has to be more to her new life.
  My own Razr ringing as i assumed another call from Chris to ask me where i've been or if i was even alive. His call ending to raise the 27 missed calls to 28. Nothing was going to stop me from getting her, i wasn't as naive as before. I had grown, my training showing me gaps in my methods, the scumbags that hurt and caused damage showing me new ideas as well- but mine were for protection. Mine were for her, like i said all those years ago. I'd do anything for her, even putting up with her accusations and her eager willingness to be in danger. Even if she threw away my money like some other boy lusting after her attention. I was, am and will forever be, her soul mate. Her impression is laid into my heart and brain. Something i was never able to change, she deserved to be there. She was a religion. Something i had to have, an addiction, something to be looked at and adored, worshiped... something i was missing in my life away from Raccoon City.
  My cock ached thinking about those soft pitiful whines that fell from her lips, the moment her head hit my tile. The moans from her plump lips as she came undone on me, gushing that forbidden nectar all over my sheets, my name on her tongue like a shunned prayer. Someone she pleaded for, unknowingly calling out for the devil to catch her. Caught her, I did... until fate decided to be cruel. My fingers brushed over the growing ache from my pants, the slit of my cock pressed to the zipper as the my hips jerked up, brushing it against the angry tip.
My thoughts were broken by someone asking for the manifestation of religion. "Hey, Marina! Where is she?", a sharp pin prick stabbed at my spine, a quirk in my lips as i see the unsteady man. His hands on the bar as 'Marina' points to the back room. All i could see was a white dress shirt, and black slacks. He better not be fucking her- only i can touch something like her, something created for my pleasure and sight. Her teary eyes and drool collecting at the corner of her mouth. A jerk from my dick had my whiskey at the back of my mind, quickly jumping up to rush to the bathroom.
 
Stupid fucking bunny. My arm rested on the stall wall, elbow dug into the metal as my palm brushed the exposed skin. Shirt tail tucked between my teeth as my hand started to fist at the hardened flesh. I could hear soft cries- hers... the bathroom must be next to the employee room. Her cries were like a sirens call, precum smeared across the sensitive flesh as my hips snapped up with the pace i had set for myself. Imagining her, that pretty face under me, her eyes rolled up to watch as i pumped my shaft, staring at those beautiful eyes. Wouldn't waste my cum on her face, no matter how tempting. Would have her bouncing on my cock, her pussy walls clenching down on my cock, tip nudging against her cervix and bumping into her soft spot as i rocked my hips. A louder sob left her lips as i felt a jolt in my cock, pumping faster. She was just so pretty... those pretty clear tears causing her eyes to gloss over. Her mumbled and moans- "fuck..", my hand slows, feeling the twitching of my cum shoot out onto the rim of the toilet seat.
  "disgusting.", the realization of what i had just done hitting me, "jerking off to a sweet bunny crying in the men's bathroom?", a dry laugh falling from my lips. "yeah- some things don't change.", the memory of doing the same at RPD flashing to mind. I'd fucked myself to the sound of her laughter more than once. Those red lacy underwear hidden in my drawer, ready for the next time i needed a stabilizing moment. A sniff, a jerk off... anything.  The toilet paper was damn near falling apart as i wiped off the cum from the tip of my cock, a hiss leaving my lips. The sensitive skin, overworked by my palm. "Shit- use to be better about not getting so over worked.", an annoyed yet amused tone to my words.
  The slamming of the bathroom door caught my attention next, i felt like a damn dog outside for the first time, jumpy and slightly buzzed. My hand landed on the stall door, sliding it open to be faced with the same white shirt and black slacks. Black hair combed back and pale skin- she certainly tried to stay away from anything close to me, didn't she?
   The man washed his hands, a groan leaving his lips as he realized he didn't have any paper towels to dry his hands. "Got toilet paper, but the shit nearly falls apart on you.", i added, i wonder if she said anything to him yet. If he recognized my presence had been the one to distraught her so deeply. Her soft sobs could still be heard. "Yeah... i'll pass, thanks.", he side eyed me, brown eyes wide and weirded out. "Yeah, no problem.", my hands came up to wave him off. I wanted to know more, where was he from- what was he to her? Boyfriend, probably... but that just won't do. I had to keep her with me, she was my forbidden fruit. The future mother to my children, my bunny... my little play thing. The man started to turn to walk away, his hand resting on the door as he turned his head to take a final peek. "Have a good rest of your day.", the man spoke up. "Yeah, you too. Hey- I didn't catch your name.", I knew for a fact he knew now, his side eyes not passing my radar. I was trained in body language, he didn't want to take his eyes off me, he saw me as a threat. "I didn't throw it.", he dead panned, his look slightly more angered. "Right... right...", what was this guys name again? It popped up under the same address as hers.
   Ken? Ren? Rylan- Ryan! "Sorry...", my hands met under the water, washing away the sins that lingered on my skin. "Have a good rest of your night, Ryan.", i hummed, as casually as possible, my eyes catching his in the mirror. "I caught it.", i quickly add, maybe giving him any insight that i knew anything was stupid, but i didn't care. "Yeah... you too, Leon.", a chuckle left my lips, maybe she hadn't picked someone too different as the annoyance and anger clung to his words. A smirk fell on my lips, becoming more familiar to my features the more i stayed in this busy town. I didn't reply, just watching as he walked out, thinking he had the upper hand. He doesn't, he won't- bunny was mine, I owned her. I had staked my claim 7 years ago on that girl and I'd be damned if I lost it now.
  Ryan... I'll have to look that up later. Keeping all my tabs on the new life she built for herself. I was more careful this go around, despite the ache that quickly came back to my groin from the power exchange...!i would wait, plan... figure out how and when to take her back to the house i built. A family home, build from the foundation up on quite a few acres, stuck in the middle of a very small town. This will be our home, sweet bunny... we'll have a family, somewhere where it's just us. I'm tired of fighting for everyone else to have their happy endings, for them to get to shine while i suffer... This time, i'll be selfish, i'll get what i want and i won't allow my broken bird to fly, my little bunny to hop. Instead, she'll be mine, changed and tamed... kept away from the unsafe world, kept private and secret from nearly anyone. If only i could get rid of the suspicion of the man and the fear she held on me. I just wanted a life, i'd get it. One way or another, i was getting my family home and filling it with little Kennedy's.
Tumblr media
128 notes · View notes
woodandwaxwings · 4 months
Text
Behind Blue Eyes
"He couldn't help but look at him and search for those familiar blue eyes he had come to love only for them to be not there, for doe brown eyes to be in the place of his favorite watercolor blues."
Warnings: PTSD attack towards the end. loosely described though.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Y/n sighed as the bus he was taking stopped outside Jericho's bus stop. Now he had to commit to leaving Florida and the other peculiars he had grown up with, went to war with. Now he was in Vermont in a small town nobody but peculiars and outcasts would give more than half a shit about. Y/n smiled as 'you can tell she's a princess' from some Barbie movie he had never bothered to watch came from his phone, garnering odd looks as he picked up the phone. "Hey, Claire. I see you've finally learned how a phone works." Claire laughed on the other end, "Shut up! Are you there yet?" Y/n could almost imagine her twisting the honey-blonde curls she let grow out between her fingers. "I just got off the bus in Jericho. Do you know how far Vermont is from Florida? Really far." Y/n walked down the streets of Jericho, probably looking like he had just escaped an old film with his luggage bag he'd had since 1939 before being sent off to Miss Peregrine it was garnered in stickers Abe had sent with his letters to Emma. His outfit didn't help much despite Jake taking him shopping not long after arriving in Florida. With his flare jeans and corduroy jacket, he looked like someone had let one of the characters from That 70s Show loose in a mall. And his tattoos of course didn't help the strangers in small town Jericho from staring.
"How's school in Florida?" Y/n asked Claire as he entered a small coffee shop. After all the traveling, he was thirsty and tired and could go for some coffee. "Oh my bird, it's awesome! I've made so many friends..." He let Claire rant as he ordered a coffee from a long-haired brunette boy behind the counter. Y/n smiled and gave the boy a "thank you," as he handed him his coffee. He heard someone yell at Claire over the phone as he set down in a booth facing the entrance of the coffee shop. "Hey, Y/n, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later, ok? Remember, don't be weird. Mwah," He smiled as he shut off his phone after she hung up and drank his coffee to regain the energy he had lost from the travel. "Where'd you come from?" Y/n looked up from his coffee to see another brunette boy with short hair. "Florida," Y/n spoke, her German accent pushing through his words making the boy laugh as he sat across from him uninvited. "Diese Schlampe,"(this bitch) Y/n murmured to himself. "Doesn't sound like it," The boy across from him said.
Y/n rolled his eye as he looked at the clock, "Ich habe keine Zeit dafür."(I don't have time for this) He said as he stood up and grabbed his bag, the boy across from him standing as well. "No seriously, where'd you come from." "Germany, then Wales, then Florida." He said as he pushed passed the boy in front of him, leaving the coffee shop and the annoying boy behind. He had only been there for about 30 minutes and he was already starting to hate this town, but a promise is a promise. He watched a different bus stop at the bus stop and several kids in uniforms exit. He knew he was supposed to get on that bus but as he looked for the driver's eyes, only for them to be concealed by dark sunglasses he decided right then it would be a better idea to walk to Nevermore. He'd take possible haunted woods over wights any day. He began to walk in the direction that the bus had come from, his fingers shaking as he had to turn his back to the man, mentally preparing himself to trigger his peculiarity hollows be damned.
"Well, look who decided to step out of the 40s." Y/n turned on his heels as he recognized the voice from behind him. "Yoko, hallo." She and the girl on her side walked up to him. "Was machst du in Jericho?" (What are you doing in Jericho) She asked him. Y/n vaguely remembered Yoko from his early years in the children's home before it became his loop. Her fathers were friends with Miss Peregrine. "Wieso bist du nicht tot?"(How are you not dead) She asked as she looked him over, noticing that he was 17 and not 13 or dirt. "The library is gone." He answered in English, noticing Yoko's companion's confusion. "It's real?" Y/n shrugged, "Was real." Yoko noticed his eyes darting back to the bus behind them. "Er ist ein Mensch." (he is human.) Yoko said and watched as his shoulders relaxed. "Benutzen Sie den Bus. (use the bus) It's faster than walking." Y/n nodded as he walked past them and got on the bus. "Another bus ride," Y/n thought to himself as he sat down and the bus began made its way back to Nevermore.
"Sorry for scarin' ya' kid." Y/n looked away from the window and to the bus driver. "You're not the first peculiar kid to try walkin' to Nevermore instead of getting on my bus." Y/n nodded, "Sorry for assuming." The bus driver shook his head as he stopped at the school, "Never apologize for being safe." Y/n nodded as he got off the bus, "Thanks for the ride." The bus driver nodded, "Just doin' my job." Y/n gave the man a smile as he walked through the front entrance of Nevermore. He sighed. If only Victor was here with him if only this was 20 years ago. "if only"s could go on forever, but here he was alone. "Hi," He looked down at the boy who spoke to him. "Hi," He looked the young boy up and down, he could only be about 14. "I'm Eugene Ottinger, peculiar. Principal Weems thought you would be more comfortable with one of us leading you around, and I was the only one available." Y/n nodded as he ranted he reminded him a lot of Millard. "I heard you came from a loop. Is that true? I've never been in a loop before. What can you do? I have a psychic connection to bees," Y/n followed behind him as the young boy guided him around the school. He suddenly stopped, "This is Weems's office. She'll get you enrolled and show you to your dorm." Y/n nodded as he knocked on the door, Eugene leaving him behind.
"You must be Y/n L/n." A tall blonde woman, who Y/n assumed was Principal Weems, said as she opened the door. "Come in," She pulled the door further open, letting him walk into her office. "Very rarely do we ever get peculiars here." Y/n nodded, "Most of us stick to loops instead of school." Weems nodded as she sat behind her desk. "School doesn't start for another 3 days so you should have plenty of time to get situated." She said as Y/n looked around her office. "Do I have to buy a uniform or are they provided?" Y/n asked as he finally sat down on the other side of her desk. "They are provided." Principal Weems set a paper down facing him, "You've already registered so no need for any mindless paperwork. I'll give you you uniform before showing you to your dorms and then your roommate can give you a tour of the school." Y/n nodded as Miss Weems stood and grabbed a purple box that was set off to the side. "Nevermore's welcome package," She said as she handed it to Y/n. "Shall I show you to your dorm room now?" She asked but it wasn't really a question as she opened the door to her office and gestured for him to exit.
"Nevermore prides itself on being a diverse learning environment for all of it's attendants." Weems began the welcome speech spiel. "You'll find that all of our outcasts intermingle well," Her words were said in a tone that screamed 'behave'. "And that is something our school would like to continue to pride itself on." Y/n nodded as she walked down the dormitory halls, "You'll be rooming with Ajax Petropolus." Weems said as she opened the door to one of the dorm rooms, "Who does not appear to be here," She mumbled under her breath as she let Y/n into the room. As Y/n set his suitcase and "welcome package" down on the bare twin bed on the right side of the dorm a boy rushed into the room. "Sorry," He said to both him and the principal as he fixed his beanie. "Hi, Ajax," He stuck his hand out for Y/n to shake and that's when he really got a look at him. Shit, he was screwed. The universe must hate him because he couldn't help but look at him and search for those familiar blue eyes he had come to love only for them to be not there, for doe brown eyes to be in the place of his favorite watercolor blues.
"Y/n," He finally said when he realized he was staring, hesitantly shaking his hand. "Cool," Ajax said, seemingly oblivious. "I'll leave you to get situated," Weems said as she left, shutting the door behind her. Y/n then stepped back and walked back to his side of the room, "What happened to your previous roommate?" He asked as he opened his luggage bag, placing the framed picture of him and Victor face down on his bedside table. "He graduated," Ajax said as he sat on his own bed. "So what's your deal?" Y/n paused in his unpacking, turning to face his roommate, "What?" Ajax shrugged, "Y'know, what's your thing? Are you a psychic? Werewolf?" Y/n nodded, "Oh. I'm peculiar." Ajax shrugged, "Well I wouldn't say peculiar, but you do dress a little weird." "Bist du dumm?" (Are you stupid?) Y/n asked as he shoved his clothes into the dresser drawer that also seemed to be a table. "Excuse me?" Ajax shook his head. "I'm peculiar, as in that's my thing." Ajax just gave him a confused stare. "Forget it. Aren't you supposed to give me a tour of the school or something?"
The gorgon shot up from his bed, "Right! Sorry, forgot." Y/n felt almost disoriented as he watched Ajax. Everything about him was exactly the same but so different to Victor, like the reflection in a distorted mirror came to life. "So this is one of four dormitory halls. There are two girls' dormitories and two boys' dormitories." Ajax begins as he exits the room, expecting Y/n to follow him and he does. "Nevermore was founded by Nathaniel Faulkner in 1791, the dormitories being added on in 1840 and were renovated in 1940." Y/n nodded as he followed Ajax down the stairs to the courtyard. "I'm not going to have to memorize any of this, am I?" Y/n watched as his brown eyes went wide like a deer in the headlights, "Huh? Oh, no. It's just a bunch of crap." Y/n looked around the courtyard to find it almost barren. "I figured there'd be more people here." Ajax looked over the courtyard as well, "Yeah, most people will be showing up tomorrow to get unpacked and stuff. Oh yeah, um, this is the courtyard. Mostly everyone eats their meals here." The two walked around the courtyard to an Edgar Allen Poe statue. "This is our statue in tribute to Edgar Allen Poe, I'm like 90% sure he was like an alumni."
"I don't give a shit about Edgar Allen Poe," Y/n said as he looked Ajax up and down. "Do we have to wear our uniforms all the time?" Ajax shrugged, "I mean most people tend to wear theirs while on campus." Y/n nodded. "So is that a no? yes?" The two stared at each other for a moment, and then a short blonde girl approached them. "Hey, Ajax!" She spoke excitedly. Both boys turn to face her as if being snapped out of a trance. "Oh hey, Enid. " Ajax looked between the two people in front of him. "Enid this is Y/n." HE pointed to Y/n and then pointed to Enid, "Y/n this is Enid. She's a werewolf." Y/n nodded and stuck his hand out for the girl to shake. Enid shakes his hand but doesn't let go of it. "Oh my gosh!" She turns his hand over so the back of his hand is facing upward. "I love your tattoo! Is it real?" Y/n could practically imagine a tail wagging behind her. "Yeah. A friend of mine chose it for me. She said to just use my peculiarity with it whenever I miss her."
Ajax furrows his brows as he leans to look at the thickly lined butterfly. "What can you do?" He and Enid asked almost in sync. Y/n smiled a cheeky smile as he placed his other hand over the top of the one Enid still had a tight grip on. "Wach auf."(Wake up) He whispered before removing his hand to reveal a live black and white butterfly sitting on his hand where the tattoo was. Enid giggled as the butterfly flew up to her nose, following Y/n's eyes as he mentally guided it. "Cool," Enid mumbled as it sat on her face. She jumped as Y/n swatted his hand out to grab the insect and the two watched as the tattoo faded back onto his hand. "Sweet. It's kinda like Xavier's powers." Y/n nodded despite not knowing who they were talking about. There then was a sudden boom that resembled a cannon being fired or a boulder falling. Y/n's heart picked up as he squeezed his eyes shut and slammed his hands so hard over his ears that they began to ring. Memories he wished he did a better job at pushing down came flooding to the surface as he grew lightheaded.
49 notes · View notes
pherelesytsia · 2 years
Text
Lost and Found
Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/single Reader
Summary: Thomas Shelby, a single father, lost his son at the fair and finds him in the arms of an unknown woman and is instantly enchanted by her.
Warning: Fluff and Angst
Word Count: 3.1k      
Thomas Shelby Masterlist
Part Two
Tumblr media
Peals of laughter rang out loudly. Grey elongated clouds adorned the horizon, yet the bright sun broke through the gloom. People in costumes danced through the rows of hundreds of people. Musicians played serenades banishing sadness from heart and soul. Singers sang and coins flew through the air. Horses trotted behind the high white bridles. Laughing children sat on the stately animals, clasping to the leather reins firmly. The scent of almonds lingered in the air along with roasted apples, but the smell didn’t resemble the beginning of spring but of Christmas, of hot tea and warming flames rising in the fireplace.
Laughing, Claire walked ahead, a few steps away from her mother, who didn’t take her eyes off of her singing daughter. Her eyes were sparkling and the wide smile gracing her features kissed by the rising wind let the young mother smile, watching her daughter dressed in a dark blueish dress dance by her side. A brown cap rested on her head and the thin gloves were tucked in the pockets of the coat in dark brown tones protecting Claire from the fresh spring breeze. Her long hair framing her features reached down to her waist. Claire's hand disappeared into the depths of the brown paper bag and ate the roasted nuts coated in a sugary coat tasting like chocolate. Her eyes grew bigger and bigger with each attraction, but no words crossed her plum lips, ignoring the words her mother had said, had put money aside for several months to fulfil her daughter's wish to visit the fair.
The small family of two was not poor, were well off, but Y/N could not read her daughter's every wish from her lips, yet she did not have to worry about scarcity, tailoring beautiful dresses for the women of the elite of the country and suits fulfilling every wish of a man with extra pockets to hide small bottles of alcohol or boxes for cigars. Claire was well dressed, and it was obvious from the child's dress, followed by the coat, that her mother was skilled with the needles. Delightful Claire laughed and her eyes were full of love, shone brightly and let everybody know she came from a loving and caring family, but the ring missing from Y/´s finger clarified no man had found a place at her side walking swiftly after her daughter.
Laugher echoed loud and booming. Birds circled over the square. Tall men wandered through the rows of children staring after of the horses, pulling carriages across the fair.
            "Can I offer you something, mum?" Claire asked her mother.
Smiling, Y/N lowered her gaze to the girl who had her eyes and shook her head. Claire turned and faced her mother and offered the nuts in the brownish paper bag.
            "Thank you, my sunflower, but no," Y/N declined.
            "But if you want, I'll give you some. I can't eat all of this,", "I'm sure you can my sunflower. Don't you want to ride a horse? I know you like them. They look lovely." Y/N asked.
Immediately Claire shook her head, but her eyes betrayed her, letting Y/N know the girl who had grown under her care imagined herself on a leather saddle of a horse.
            "No mommy, I know it's a quarter, we could go to the theatre together for that. I know, I read it in the newspapers yesterday when we ate breakfast." the girl said proudly, remembering exactly the article she had tried to read.
Y/N laughed softly. Her daughter loved to read, had asked Y/N to learn the alphabet too many times, wanted to work as a journalist in the city one day.
            "Come on, the white mare looks beautiful. Look, she's got a braid like you." she spoke.
Smiling, Y/N ignored her daughter's silent protest, shook her head and after a few steps, Claire stopped her loud protesting, looking forward to sit on the horse she thought was the most beautiful of them standing by the stables of light wood. With quickening steps, Claire, followed by her mother, approached the high fence separating the crowd from the horses.
            "Go to the fence, I'll buy you a ticket in the meantime.", "Okay." Claire answered standing on tiptoes, trying to see the trotting horses.
"And don't forget to not go with strangers, Claire," said Y/N in a sterner tone. 
The little girl grimaced and let her mother know the words were unnecessary, knew what she had to do, was too smart for her age. Y/N bought the ticket with her gaze travelling over and over again to Claire watching the snoring horses and ponies. With thanking words Y/N left the salesman in a dark suit behind and turned to face Claire. Fear spread through her body; certain Claire was standing there a moment ago, a mere second ago. Wide eyes searched for Claire and relieved, Y/N exhaled, seeing her child a few steps away from her. Angered Y/N stepped forward, shook her head but before the first scolding word could cross her lips, she saw Claire standing at the side of a boy around her age and Y/N recognised him instantly.
            "Mum, Charlie is lost and can't find his father," Claire spoke in a shocked tone.
The anger faded away. Y/N exhaled and stepped closer to the two children. Smiling Y/N knelt down and nodded, wanting to be at eye level with the two children who were almost the same height. Soft words escaped her, searched for a brief moment for the man who was Charlie’s father but then Y/N remembered she had never seen him.
            "Hey Charlie, can you remember me?" breathed Y/N.
Gently Y/N touched his hand, clasping it, trying to reassure the young man who was trying to keep the tears from falling that everything is alright. Fear remained in his eyes but no tears graced his skin. Shyly, Charlie nodded. His eyes were in lush blue tones, his hair was neatly pulled back and immediately, without doubting Y/N recognised her work, knew she had tailored the suit in dark blue tones a few months ago before Christmas.
            "You don't have to worry, I know we'll find him and if not, I'll take you home, we live in the same town, surely you can tell me where you live, can't you? You are a big boy." Y/N said in a calm tone.
Charlie nodded again and clasped the young woman's hand tightly. Y/N´s right hand disappeared in her handbag and took out a white, freshly ironed handkerchief and wiped the tears from his rosy cheeks and then let it disappear into the pocket of his jacket.
            "My name is Y/N, I'm Claire's mother. Can you tell me where you last saw your father or what he looks like? I see you every day at the kindergarten but I've never seen your father, but I know your uncle Arthur well.", "He's tall and has dark hair and blue eyes and he wears suits and I lost him here, I was standing by the horses and all of a sudden, he was gone." replied Charlie.
A faint smile came over Y/N and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Her gaze travelled from east to west across the square of hundreds of people, of men in dark suits and woman in long dresses. The description fitted many people Y/N thought to herself and exhaled.  
            "Okay, I'm sure we'll find him, Charlie. Do you like horses?" Y/N asked.
The boy nodded weakly, hoped his father would soon stand by his side.
"Can I offer you a ride? I bought two tickets. If you want and don’t fear the horses then you can ride with Claire and if your father doesn't show up in the next half hour then we'll go on a search for him and if we still haven't found him by six o'clock then we'll make our way to your home. Are you okay with that or not?" Y/N asked, saw the tears veiling the gaze of the young boy.
Suddenly the tears faded away. Eyes beamed with joy. Charlie nodded quickly and looked at Claire standing by his side. Smiling the two children laughed. Claire clasped his hand and Charlie took Y/N's right hand, fearing he would get lost again, trusted the woman he had seen often at the kindergarten picking up his best friend.
The children were swift, happy and laughing audibly, dragging Y/N after them, eager to get to the horses as quickly as possible. The ground changed under their feet and the children let go of Y/N, standing on tiptoes, observing the horses. Hay mingled with mud. Y/N handed the purchased tickets to the two children, had bought two rides for her daughter. Claire thanked her mother after Charlie nodded shyly in response.
Scolding words escaped Y/N, told them to behave well, and watched the two children accompany the man with greying hair in riding boots to the horses standing at the side by the stables. Y/N waved, watching the fear disappear from the boy's eyes as he settled onto the dark horse and clasped the reins of light leather. Smiling Y/N watched them ride slowly in circles and immediately, as the two children made the last turn, they ran to her, holding hands and talking in hush tones, leaving the horses behind and running towards the exit guarded by another man in high leather boots.
Music echoed through the rows of people. The sparkle in the children's gigantic eyes did not disappear, not even when the boy realised his father was still not in sight, but Charlie knew nothing more could happen to him under Y/N's care. Suddenly, Claire stopped and forced Charlie to do the same. Ashamed, the young girl looked down at her filthy clothes. The tips of her leather shoes were graced with mud. Stains covered the hem of the dress and Claire wanted to start a sentence, knowing exactly how long it had taken to tailor the dress, but before the young girl could apologise, her mother shook her head, let her know she didn't have to say anything.
            "It can happen Claire. I have to wash the dress, anyway. You don't have to worry about it. It is nothing a little bit of hot water and soap can´t fix. But when we get home, you will clean your shoes." Y/N said.
            "Of course. I'm sorry." Claire apologised anyway.
Relief spread through the girl, feared her mother would be disappointed.
"I see you enjoyed the horses. I hope your father won't mind and tell him in case I forget he doesn't have to give me the money back for the ticket." the young mother assured.
Y/N rested her hand on his shoulder in a protective gesture and joyfully the boy looked up.
            "Charlie, can't you give me a more precise description of your father? I have tried to find him, but unfortunately, many men fit your description. There are so many men in suits and I'm worried I'll not notice your father." Y/N joked.
Shrugging his shoulders, the boy, who was a spitting image of his father, looked questioningly at Y/N, pressed his lips together and pictured his father once standing by his side.
            "He's much taller than you, taller than most people. He has blue eyes and wears a suit and has the same hat as me." Charlie said.
            "Okay, you know what Charlie? I'll take you up, you'll be able to see more and maybe you'll find your dad." Y/N asked.
Charlie nodded again. He stretched out his arms and Y/N lifted the boy off the ground, pressed him tightly against her body and positioned herself so that his weight was partly on her hips, feeling she would not be able to hold him in her arms for long. Y/N groaned softly, and exhaled, was convinced the boy would be lighter, but she was wrong, was heavier than her daughter.
            "Claire, come to me. I don't want to lose you." Y/N said.
The young mother smiled, noticing the girl standing at her side, clawing her fingers into the long coat in brownish tones. The look on the girl's face spoke volumes. She lifted her eyebrows lightly, shaped her lips into a wry grin, and gave her mother a wondering look.
            "Of course, mommy, you don't have to worry about me. I'm a big girl," assured Claire proudly. "But you are a big boy too, Charlie, even if you got lost. It might have happened to me too. The horses are beautiful. Isn't that your father over there? I saw a picture of him once," Claire added quickly, seeing the pain welling up in the eyes focused on her.
With her outstretched finger, she pointed in the direction of the attraction a man in a dark suit was standing in front of, but Charlie shook his head.
            "My father is taller and slim. And he wears a long dark coat. He would never wear anything like that. He only wears suits." Charlie interjected, continuing on his search for his father.
The wind was howling, and the sun was wandering.
Piercing eyes broke through the rows of people. His suit was dark, but he stood out. The man stood still, recognising the eyes searching for him but seeing no sadness ruling in them. Suddenly the eyes were flooded with joy. Charlie exhaled in relief. Joyful words crossed his lips formed into a grin. With his finger Charlie pointed in the man's direction who stood more than twenty steps away from them. The tall man walked with quickening steps towards the three people. The fear once gnawing at his bones was gone. Relief ruled in his eyes, had prayed countless of prayers, had feared the worst, already cursing himself, would never forgive himself if something had happened to his blood. Confused, the Shelby looked from his son to the woman he was sure he had never seen in his life as she placed Charlie on the ground. The young boy cried out in relief. Thomas breathed freely, smiled and lifted Charlie up and pressed him against his chest, ignored the smell of horses clinging to the jacket of his son.
Words Y/N could not understand escaped the handsome man, but she was convinced they formed into words forbidding the boy to dare to leave his side again. Claire took a step towards her mother and reached for her hand, clasping it tightly and smiling beatifically, glad her kindergarten friend had found his father. After a few words, Thomas let go of his son, set him down on the ground and looked in the woman's direction, giving her a weak smile. Charlie grabbed his father's hand and pulled him behind him, telling him to follow him fast to two girls in nearly identical clothing. The man glanced down at Y/N and lowered his left hand on his son's shoulder in a protective gesture.
            "Good afternoon, I would like to thank you for taking care of Charles Mrs.” Thomas said.
"I'm not a Mrs, I'm a Miss and you don't have to thank me for anything Mister Shelby, I did what any other person would have done." Y/N interjected.
His gaze slid down her body and reached for her hand. Elegantly Thomas clasped her hand, his fingers entwining it, bowed slightly and breathed a feather-light kiss on the back of her hand. Y/N smiled. Her heart skipped a beat. A reddish hue painted her cheeks. Y/N could not recall the last time when a male greeting her this way, but then she was certain she had never been kissed on the hand before. Charlie contorted his face into a nauseated grimace, not like Claire who watched with dilated eyes as, for the first time in many years, her mother was kissed by a man. Thomas laughed silently, still holding her hand loosely, knowing exactly what other people, other persons would have done in her place with his son. His lips no longer touched; Thomas wanted to start a sentence but a voice made it impossible to continue.
            "Dad, can I invite Claire to our house? I want to show her my cars and the garden. She loves flowers. Please." echoed a voice.
Thomas let go of the hand he was carefully holding , saw that a ring was missing, and looked down at his son who was standing at Clarie's side awaiting a specific answer. Thomas smiled.
            "Miss, may I invite you and your daughter to join us for a cup of tea and cake? I realise we don't know each other, but I would nevertheless like thank you for taking care of my son.”, “Unfortunately I don't know where you live and my old car is parked at the docks. Claire and I life in the small town for a year now yet I fear if you give me the address, I still won't be able to find it.” Y/N informed the man in the dark suit.
            “Please mom.” whispered Claire.
“I have an idea. I will drive you and your daughter to our home and in the evening back home and I will send one of my brothers to pick up your vehicle and drive it your house.", " Mr Shelby I don't want to cause any trouble." Y/N said.
Thomas flashed a smile.
"You're definitely not causing me any trouble, but please call me Thomas." he promptly interjected. “And with whom do I have the pleasure?” Thomas added.
No answer escaped Y/N. His tone was gentle, didn’t fit the sternness of his ageless features.
            “My mommy’s name is Y/N.” Claire answered.
Unable to take her eyes off of his, lost in the deep sea, Y/N smiled, could not remember the last occasion she had been so close to a man, sure it must have been years ago. Ashamed Y/N lowered her gaze. The handsome man stepped forward. Thomas offered his arm and gratefully Y/N accepted it. A pleasant warmth flooded her body and she dared not to lift her gaze, knowing exactly his eyes, the bright sky on a beautiful cloudless day were upon her. The world grew silent, the loud voices of the people faded away. A smell she was not used to enveloped Y/N. Claire and Charlie walked ahead, chuckling, and focused the eyes over their shoulders, stared at them, who from a distance appeared to be a married couple.
Taglist:
blyanyan fckmini Talessandra9792 1-800-coffee millies0bsimp marvelwhoreunfortunately alessandra9792 smailaway summertimedepression alldaysdreamers elliaze mystic-gnome
kathrinemelissa tedpicklez daynaelizabethclairereynolds
1K notes · View notes
Text
The thought of Claire being unable to dye that streak of white hair back to blue or even just her natural brown has been stuck in my head lately. Like, it probably stays white for Character Design™️ reasons, but what if she physically could not dye it back.
Elaborating on this headcanon: using shadow magic improperly just drains everything out of your body. It starts with your hair, then weakening muscles, and eventually your entire physical body is simply a shadow of your former self. Like a painting painted white, your soul is still there underneath that husk, but people can't recognize you. And eventually, (should you continue down this path) your soul simply departs this husk and goes to the shadow realm.
Softer things to balance this sandwich, everyone in the Arcadia Gang gets a streak of hair bleached/dyed white. Maybe they do something more, like Douxie going for white under the black so he can keep his blue tips, or Jim trying out matching bangs (which he eventually reduces to a streak). I'm even throwing in Mary in here who would totally go for all sorts of white streaks. For the trolls, since I imagine their "hair" is less like human hair and more like natural materials, they get some of their markings painting white. Krel and Aja go for white streaks in their human transductions, but in their true forms, they wear white rings. Just some thoughts.
154 notes · View notes
midearthwritings · 2 years
Text
I am opening requests for The Good Doctor!
Tumblr media
134 notes · View notes
hoboal87 · 5 months
Text
Don't Speak, Epilogue
Pairings: Adam x f!Reader, past dark!Winchesters x f!Reader, past!Dean x Claire
Characters: Reader, Adam, Claire, OCs, Special Appearances by Jack and James Novak, mentions of Bobby, Ellen, Jo, John, Sam and Dean
Warnings: aftermath of fire, aftermath of kidnapping/held prisoner, non-graphic descriptions of childbirth, aftermath of non-con, babies, mostly fluff but with some sprinkles of angst, happy ending?
WC: <1500
beta’d by the wonderful, lovely, @writethelifeyouwant
This is a dark!fic that includes potentially triggering content and is intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for your own media consumption, so please, read the warnings and if you feel that you may be triggered and/or offended please move along. If you have any questions about the warnings/tags please feel free to DM me.
Don’t Speak Masterlist
My Full Masterlist
Part 23
Tumblr media Tumblr media
November
As the train jolts to a stop, you shush the baby at your breast, hoping that it won’t jostle him awake. You’re glad to finally be back in Boston, and in only a matter of days you, Adam, and William, will be on a ship heading back to London. Two sets of blue eyes are waiting on the platform– searching the crowds amidst the smog from the train. You gesture to Claire to look out the window and watch as elation fills her, catching a tear falling down her cheek as she lays eyes on her family.
There is a hesitation for a moment before the two of you move from your seats. 
Tumblr media
The fire not only claimed the lives of the brothers that night, but also some of the new servants who were still unfamiliar with the layout of the manor. No one was entirely sure how many lives the fire claimed; all of the bodies were too damaged and disfigured by the fire for anyone to be able to tell one from the other.
You and Claire had been confined to the same boarding house that Adam had escaped to for several weeks while Bobby tried to salvage keepsakes from the Manor, and Mr. Finch sorted through John’s will, determining what was to be done with the Winchester Estate. You’d always known that the family were wealthy, but you hadn’t ever fully comprehended exactly how much money they had. John had made plans to ensure that you and Claire and your children were to be taken care of if something had ever happened to the brothers. However, you doubt that he’d expected for his sons to die the way they did.
You and Claire both only wanted one thing: to be reunited with your families. No one in town seemed to mourn the loss of the Winchesters, but there was gossip that made its way through as you and Claire kept up appearances of the heartbroken widows. There was no funeral to speak of, only two caskets filled with charred remains and the conflicted feeling of anguish and joy, knowing that now you and Claire could move on with your lives. 
It took over a month to settle everything. While John had made contingencies for the brothers’ demises, you expect that he never imagined that they would die together, or within only a few months of his own untimely death. Adam could, according to Mr. Finch, lay claim to the Winchester fortune because John had left documentation that Adam was his bastard, but Adam declined, opting to let you and Claire split the money instead. With the estate finally settled, you were free to leave Kansas. Claire had written to her father, and the four of you made your way towards Boston.
You had barely made it out of Kansas when you’d gone into labor. William James Winchester came into the world screaming. A wave of emotions flowed through you as the wailing infant was placed in your arms, tears pressing against your eyes, and you let out a choked laugh as you realized that you’d finally fulfilled the Winchester's plan for you - a legitimate male heir. Dark chocolate eyes and tufts of dark brown hair answered the question that had been in the back of your mind ever since Adam informed you that the baby couldn’t be Sam’s. And though you hated to admit it, you were happy knowing that the father wasn’t your husband or his brother, but their father.
It took longer to recover from the birth than you’d expected, and the mental and physical exhaustion of being held prisoner by the Winchesters and your escape had finally caught up with you and Claire, as well. The decision was made to halt your journey until the end of October, giving you and Claire more time to recover before continuing on to Boston.
Tumblr media
As Claire’s eyes lock with her father’s and brother’s, a smile that you haven’t seen in ages grows across her face. You know that she hadn’t explained everything that had happened during the year she’d been gone in her letter, unwilling to let them bear the burden or guilt of knowing that they easily could’ve spared her the trauma. You’d written a similar letter to your family, though you wonder if they would believe the half-truths that you spun. You aren’t even sure you care.
You had early on in your captivity come to terms with the fact that while your parents hadn’t–at least you hoped–known what plans the Winchesters had for you, they had still abandoned you. Part of you wonders exactly what John had said to your father to make him agree to allow you to marry a complete and total stranger. You suspect that he’d offered to pay off their debts, after all that’s why you were at court that evening–to find a prospective husband who could help your family with their debts.
Tears fill your eyes as you watch Claire reunite with her family. Captain Novak’s lip quivers as she shows off baby Amelia, pressing a kiss to Claire’s forehead as she wraps her arms around him. You and Adam stay back, giving the family time to themselves, before Claire calls you over. There’s a flush on Jack’s cheeks as his eyes meet yours, and part of you wants to assure him that you understand that what happened between you was not his fault, but John’s. 
You spend the next few days helping Claire get reacquainted with her family, assuring her that you and she are bonded for life, and that once the children get older, you can visit each other and, when the time comes, explain their parentage. The two of you promise to write at least once a week, and you tell her that no matter what, she’ll always be your sister.
Tears are aplenty as you arrive at the docks. With The Perdition no longer making transatlantic voyages, Adam books you on The Wayward, a much faster ship not much bigger than the Novak's, and promises you will be home in less than a week. When you arrived in Boston, the three of you didn’t have much more in the way of luggage than the clothes on your back, but as you board, you need two extra deckhands to help bring everything to your staterooms.
With a tearfilled final hug, and a last look at Amelia, you and Claire reiterate your promise to see each other again as you're told you must start boarding. You push William’s pram up the walkway, Adam’s arm linked around yours to keep you steady as you say goodbye to America and the horrors that it brought you.
Before stepping onto the deck of the ship, you turn around a final time so that you can give Claire another wave, but instead of finding her, your eyes land on a pair of green ones. You lose your footing, nearly falling off the ramp and into the water, with only Adam’s arms keeping you from doing so.
“Y/N!” he exclaims as he pulls you back to your feet, face filled with concern. 
“I saw–” 
Your breath hitches, heart pounding in your chest. It isn’t possible. He is dead. Buried. There is no way he could’ve survived the fire. And if he had somehow managed to, why would he wait months to come find you and your son? You look back out onto the dock. Maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you. You can’t go back, not when you are so close to escaping for good. 
For a moment, you convince yourself that it was nothing–an illusion–but as you start to turn, he’s there, watching from only a few yards from where Claire is standing. His eyes lock on yours as terror fills you, and you want to scream a warning to Claire. How doesn’t she see him? How can’t Adam? Before you can make any decision, Dean gives you a sad smile and a small nod before disappearing into the crowd.
“What, Kitten?” Adam turns you to face him. “What did you see?”
When you look out onto the dock, Dean has disappeared. The Novaks give another wave, and you decide that what you saw wasn’t him, but a figment of your imagination.
“Nothing,” you shake your head. “I’m just– I’m tired, and ready to go home.”
Adam links his arm in yours and presses a kiss onto your forehead as he leads you up the ramp once again. Stepping onto The Wayward, you decide to leave all memories of the Winchesters behind you, instead, focusing on your new life with Adam and William, and being reunited with your family.
But as you settle into your room that night with Adam, those green eyes still haunt you. You’re mine, sweetheart, echoes in your ear when you finally drift off to sleep.
Tumblr media
Feedback is fuel! Please tell me what you think!
51 notes · View notes
kathegreat · 8 months
Text
calling all castle audios enjoyers!
i started watching @castleaudios and my gay little heart has busted asunder. introducing my south asian lesbian, elora aka "ranger".
(disclaimer: this is simply my interpretation of the character(s) and isn't based on fact or truth, my loves. ^^ <;3)
Tumblr media
claire's hair, in my opinion, may be overly saturated. i'll try to ignore it by bringing my brightness down because god knows i will try to delete this and my account altogether because i am an anxiety- ridden dumbass. i don't know why, but i've always imagined claire as a masc girl with red hair definitely doesn't have anything to do with a thing i have for redheads, freckles, and brown eyes, because brown eyes are superior and anyone who thinks otherwise can kiss my ass. i would have drawn a full-body sketch for both of our gals, but the courage i've mustered to post these and the hours spent on them as a whole have left me exhausted.
down below is a ranger without her lucky charm (i honestly think dianne gifting ranger with the hat is what's kept them alive all this time) and claire without the glamour magic to conceal her scars.
Tumblr media
i am, in fact, a firm believer that elora would call claire miss or ma'am in more ways than one.
38 notes · View notes
By: Michael Bernstein and April Bleske-Rechek
Published: Apr 17, 2023
This is a guest post by Michael Bernstein (Brown University) & April Bleske-Rechek (University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire). Michael Bernstein is an experimental psychologist and an Assistant Professor at Brown University. His research focuses on: cognitive biases, the placebo effect, pain, and substance use. He is an editor of the forthcoming book, The nocebo effect: When words make you sick.
April Bleske-Rechek is a differential and evolutionary psychologist. She is a full professor of psychology at the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire, where she invests in mentoring undergraduate scholars and engaging students with viewpoints and data they are unlikely to be exposed to elsewhere. Her recent publications and presentations can be found on her personal website: bleske-rechek.com.
--
youtube
Let’s play a game. It’s called “Who said it: Robin DiAngelo or Adolf Hitler?” DiAngelo, in case you don’t know, is author of the NYT best-seller book, White Fragility.  We’ll give you a couple quotes and you think about whether it’s from DiAngelo or Hitler. Ready, go.
1)    Did Hitler say: “Not having a group consciousness, Jews often respond defensively when grouped with other Jews.” Or did DiAngelo say: “Not having a group consciousness, Whites often respond defensively when grouped with other Whites.”
2)    Did Hitler say: “Jews… creep up on the workers in order to win their confidence, pretending to have compassion.” Or did DiAngelo say: “Whites… creep up on the workers in order to win their confidence, pretending to have compassion.”
For the record, the first quote is from DiAngelo and the second quote is from Hitler. Though whether you were right isn’t exactly the point, as an astute reader would probably know Hitler is likely to use the language of “workers” and DiAngelo is likely to use the language of “group consciousness”. The point is that DiAngelo and Hitler are both advocating an approach that reduces behavior to group membership. They describe the behavior of all Whites or all Jews in highly critical terms and conclude that this is the nature of Whiteness or Jewishness. 
Tumblr media
We know from decades of psychological research that people hold prejudices. But which groups in today’s society are more likely to be the target of expressions of prejudicial attitudes? And who is more likely to express them?
We decided to examine this empirically. Would agreement with the same statement, whether it be anti-White, anti-Black, or anti-Jew, vary depending on which group it referenced? And would political affiliation moderate attitudes?
Tumblr media
We took 3 real anti-Jew quotes from Adolf Hitler, 3 real anti-White quotes from Robin DiAngelo, and 3 real anti-Black quotes from Stephen Douglas. (Douglas was a 19th century American politician who debated Abraham Lincoln). Then, we created anti-Jew, anti-White, and anti-Black variations of each quote, and showed it to 428 college graduates or college students (72% White). This means that 1/3 of participants saw the real quote verbatim, whereas the other 2/3 saw a version of the quote that was manipulated by changing the original (e.g., replace “Jew” with “White” or “Black”, or any other combination thereof). This is shown in the Table below. For each quote, participants were asked to imagine that an intellectual or political leader uttered the statement. They then indicated whether they agreed with the statement by selecting: “definitely no,” “probably no,” “probably yes,” or “definitely yes.” Participants answered this question for all nine quotes, and all were in the same frame (anti-Jew, anti-White, or anti-Black).
Table 1:
Tumblr media
[ Red font is used to indicate the words that were manipulated across conditions. Quotes were identical otherwise. All quotes were altered to refer to either Jews, Blacks, or Whites for 1/3 of the sample. ]
The results were surprising. For 7 of the 9 quotes, agreement differed according to target group. On each of these, agreement was highest in the anti-White condition versus the anti-Jew and anti-Black condition. The figures below show the percentage of college graduates (left) and college students (right) who either “probably” or “definitely” agreed with at least one statement, broken down by target group and the original author of the quote (Hitler vs. DiAngelo vs. Douglas). You can see that agreement with both Hitler and DiAngelo is much higher in the anti-White condition versus the other two conditions. Hardly anyone agreed with the Douglas quotes regardless of target group.
Tumblr media
For the Hitler and DiAngelo quotes we analyzed the interaction between target group and political ideology.1 This was significant for all quotes, and we once again looked at the percentage of people who agreed with at least one of the statements, shown below. Anti-White sentiment was highest across the board – for liberals, moderates, and conservatives alike. Anti-White sentiment was the highest for liberals compared to other political groups; anti-Jew and anti-Black sentiment was highest for conservatives compared to other political groups.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
In a sense, our results are nothing new. We simply observed what has existed for millennia: People treat some groups preferentially to others. In the Bible, the Egyptian Pharoah enslaved the people of Israel. And interestingly, even God responded to this tribally by establishing Passover which “The whole community of Israel is to be included on the meal,” but “no foreigners are to eat it.”2  
Sweeping claims about all members of certain demographic groups seem to be on the rise in some circles. But unless you’re tuned into a relatively small number of heterodox writers like Bari Weiss or Coleman Hughes, you will rarely hear someone speculate about the counter-factual (e.g. Bob said all Whites do X vs. Imagine if he instead said all Blacks do X).
Coleman Hughes: “It [cops killing unarmed people] only gets pumped into the media when its a Black person, which gives the false impression that it only happens to Black people.” See also this survey finding that people in general, but especially liberals, massively overestimate the number of unarmed Black people killed by police.
youtube
In the language of Richard Dawkins, tribalism and prejudice may be memes. Memes, in this context, are ideas that “propagate themselves… by leaping from brain to brain” (Dawkins, 2016; p. 249). It is easy to see how tribal loyalties evolved evolutionarily (see Clark & Winegard, 2020), though finding that a mostly White sample had anti-White sentiment cannot be attributed to in-group preferences. Indeed, 55% of college students agreed with at least one Hitler quote applied to White people. Still, there is a historical precedent for people acting negatively towards their own group. In Nazi Germany, Kapos, who were prisoners but also functioned as SS guards, were often crueler towards their fellow prisoners (and frequently fellow Jews) than the Nazis themselves. 
This type of tribalism never seems to go well. Why would we expect it to benefit us now?
Tumblr media
-
An incomplete list of disclaimers that should go without saying:
1)      Nothing in our essay is meant as an argument that DiAngelo is as evil a person as Hitler, or for that matter, evil at all. Hitler is responsible for the murder of 11 million people and the death toll from just the European theater of World War II was at least 40 million. DiAngelo is not responsible for the death of anyone. But we can recognize this fact while still pointing to similarities in their thinking.
2)      Just because a person agrees with a quote from Hitler does not mean that person agrees with Hitler’s genocide.
==
Never forget that the Grievance Studies probe rewrote a section of "Mein Kampf" as intersectional feminist "scholarship" and it was accepted and published.
Tumblr media
youtube
12 notes · View notes
spaceistheplaceart · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
i was playing splatoon and thinking about motorcity... and u know what happens when you think of two things at the same time lol take these messy sketches!
Summarized ID: Multiple sketches of Motorcity characters as if they were in the splatoon universe, most are octolings but others are different species
FULL ID UNDER CUT:
First image has Mike Chilton, here named "Mike Chilfin" with his back to the camera, smirking over his shoulder. He's an octoling, with his canon hairstyle except instead of two little hair tufts at the top, it's a tentacle sucker. There's an ink tank on his back and he's holding a staff with two Splatana Stampers on the ends. It's modified and held together by tape. Beside him is his octopus form, with a square head and brown ink.
Next to him, weilding a five pronged Tri-Stringer, is Chuck. Here named "Muck". His ink colour is yellow and his octopus form has long, curling, tentacles.
On the left side of the page is two drawings. One of a Salmonid with one eye missing, and another of a Sanitized Octocopter (Green Octarian with flying device on head) with one eye. Notes beside it say: "Reef?" "Salmonid Roth or Octo Roth?"
Second image shows a bust of Kane. He's an Inkling, and here named "Abalone Kane." His squid form has two long tentacles in the back and two short ones in the front. His rattail is a tentacle with a sucker on the inside.
There's a bust of Julie. Her hair is long tentacles. She's an inkling. Her Squid form has two long tentacles and then slightly shorter ones in the front. There's a note beside her that says "uses dualies"
Then an almost full body of Mike Chilfin but in Octoling armour. He's wearing goggles, a black crop top with silver plates over it, black shorts, black elbow-length fingerless gloves, and is holding an Octoshot. Seaweed is placed behind his ears and curves upwards above his head.
A headshot of Dutch, with the Octoling Afro hairstyle. And a headshot of Claire, who is an Inkling. Her square bun is now a tentacle tied around itself and she has earrings in her triangular ears.
Third image shows Jacob as a shrimp much like Crusty Sean. He has two claws instead of hands and six little arms in the front of his fried-looking shrimp body. Hard to explain. Imagine a shrimp fried in breadcrumbs. That's his body. Two legs on the bottom.
There's a half finished drawing of Texas but as a Inkling Salmonid hybrid. He's got a connected eyemask, fins for ears, and a tail. There's a red X next to him. Then a small drawing of a Texas starfish with a hat on it.
On the left of the page is Texas as a Mussel. His body is how it looks in the show, humanoid and muscular, but his head is a clam with cartoony eyes and a little hat on top. His mouth is open. There's a green checkmark next to him and an arrow pointing to him labelled "Mussel!" Above him is the Mussel Texas but in a sexy "paint me like your french girls pose". He's wearing a black speedo.
Fourth image shows the Duke of Detroit, here named "The Duke of Detrout" in the right hand corner is a turnaround of The Duke of Detroit in the show, and below it is a picture of a Lionfish. Scattered around the page are Duke as a Lionfish. His hair is striped and prongs stick out of him, mimicking his cape and the Lionfish's fins. His arms are elongated fins and his eyes are black. Instead of facial hair, there are stripes on his face mimicking the goatee and mustache.
END ID
79 notes · View notes