#until it just eventually fits him (like thirty(

[celtic-crossbow]

Blood Ties Chapter 20

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Graphic depictions of illness; allusions to major medical procedure; accidental violence (m on f); allusions to child abuse

A/N: Finally. I make no excuses and a lot of apologies. Daryl is going through it right now but it's not just my normal whump. Reader gets to find herself again. I say that as vaguely as possible but you'll see at the end and in coming chapters.

A day and a half. A full fucking thirty six hours. The group still hadn’t returned. While it was logical to be concerned for their safety, you just couldn’t seem to look any further than the man on the bed no more than a foot in front of you. His fever raged and his breathing deteriorated, shallow rattles and painful fits of coughing. Still, those were less distressing than the moments he would wake, not remembering where or when he was. 

During one such episode, you had been a peer from school. An innocent girl who had followed him home one day to catch crawdads in the creek behind his house. His one friend that he had to hide in the crawlspace until he could get his father to beat on him instead of looking for you. He didn’t have any friends. You were special, he said. The bruises were worth it. 

Of all the ways to get Daryl to talk about what had happened to him, this wasn’t what you had expected. 

To make matters worse, he had become violent, waking in a rage that no one could understand. He was swinging punches and trying to leave the bed, Lori holding you away from him while Hershel of all people tried to subdue him alone. It was the grating of his own voice against his throat that had brought on the coughing, the force of which had eventually tired him out. 

You had appreciated the concern but had asked Lori not to come between you and Daryl again. Though she had retreated in a huff, Carol later assured you that she was only concerned for the safety of you and the baby. She wasn’t angry and she wasn’t judging Daryl for something over which he had no control. 

Things were quiet at the moment. You hummed and carded your fingers through the archer’s hair. He had been sleeping without interruption for a little over an hour, but his breaths were seeming even more labored. 

You were beyond exhausted. Two or three hours of sleep, barely eating between bouts of nausea, you were nearly to the point of being confined to that sickbed right alongside Daryl. 

“How’re the patients?” 

You didn’t lift your head, only your eyes. “Baby and I are fine. Daryl sounds worse than when you were here earlier.”

“Let’s take a look at you two and then I’ll examine Daryl.” 

There was no point in arguing. You didn’t have the energy. Sitting up straight in the chair, your back protested from the time spent bowed over the edge of the mattress, but you continued the journey to relax against the backrest. Your hand never released Daryl’s. 

Hershel motioned toward your sweater in a silent request for permission and received a mumbled knock yourself out in reply. Baby Dixon was still for the moment after hours of kicking and rolling and seemingly trying to fit a foot between your ribs. The veterinarian smiled gently upon removing the stethoscope and rolling down your sweater. You were grateful for the small gesture, likely would have left it up if he hadn’t taken the initiative. 

“Heartbeat’s strong. Seems to be doing just fine according to my limited knowledge. You really should get some rest yourself. Eat something, drink more.” His stethoscope was already nearing Daryl’s chest when you noticed it; the twitch of a hand before fingers curled into a fist. 

“Daryl, no!” You weren’t meaning to hurt the old man, inwardly wincing when you heard the thud of his body hit the floor. You were just quick enough to shove him out of the way, Daryl’s fist barely grazing your cheek instead. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s Y/N. You’re sick.” You kept your voice soft, right next to his ear, holding him firmly in a way he couldn’t escape in his weakened state. 

“Hershel! Y/N!” Carol and Lori burst into the room, Beth just behind them. You heard the girl begin to cry and tend to her father but the other two were quiet. 

“Where—dunno—can’t think—”

“I know, Daryl. It’s the fever.” He was coughing into your shoulder, his skin hot and dry where it touched yours. “You’re safe. I’m here. Thumper’s here.” The archer made a sound in his throat and by some miracle, you knew what it meant. Otherwise keeping your hold on him, you fumbled for his hand and pressed it firmly to the side of your belly. “Feel that? You woke them up too.” Your lip was wobbling, your voice threatening to do the same. “They just want their daddy to rest now so they can too. How ‘bout it, hmm?”

You pulled back slowly, steeling yourself for whatever it was you would see in his eyes. You almost whimpered when there was nothing short of exhausted recognition. 

“D’I hurt—” 

Your cheek burned and felt wet, but you shook your head. No, you wouldn’t tell him while he was like that. “I tripped. Face-planted. You definitely would have laughed.” He didn’t believe you, that much was obvious, but thank heavens for Thumper and a well placed punt straight to Daryl’s palm. His reaction was sluggish, head bowing to watch his hand rub circles over that spot. 

“Hey, kid. Go…easy on…your mama.”

“How about you go easy on their mama too and drink some water for me?” With your hand behind his head, you slowly guided him to his mountain of pillows. “Just a bit, okay?” He gave no answer. His palm continued to caress your bump. You wondered if he would still be so affectionate once he realized you weren’t alone in the room. 

With one hand raising his head slightly, the other tipped the cup to lips. He didn’t drink as much as you’d hoped but it was something. His eyes were closed but his fingers remained steady, curling and straightening over where you could feel the ripples of movement. It was as if they could sense one another. Daryl was calm, only the cough moving him at all. The baby’s movements were gentle waves below his hand. 

You didn’t dare move, allowing him the comfort he likely didn’t even know he was seeking. If you were being honest, you were relaxing a little as well. With a sigh, both tired and contented, you slouched but stayed next to him. 

“Is he okay?” You asked, finally rolling your head toward the others. Beth and Carol were getting Hershel to his feet, Lori pacing behind them with an expression you just didn’t like. 

“I’m perfectly fine.” The man answered for himself, patting Beth’s hand so that she would release him. 

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered, risking placing your hand over Daryl’s. When his fingers went still, you gently guided his palm back and forth over your belly. 

“You did nothing wrong, Y/N. I should have been more—”

“He’s going to seriously hurt one of us.” Lori interjected, continuing her pacing. You shot her a warning look, eyes narrowing when she shook her head. “I understand this is out of his control, but this is Daryl and out of all of us, he’s hardwired for violence.”

“Lori, you should go.” You spoke quietly, not willing to disrupt any rest the archer might be getting. You could only pray that he hadn’t heard her careless comment. 

“We should just take shifts to come check in on him. You could rest and eat, we’d probably hear him cou—”

“Are you seriously suggesting I leave him alone up here?” Where the anger was coming from, you had no idea. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the concern for Daryl that was constantly eating at you. It hardly mattered, you’d made it clear that she was crossing a line. Your tone was dripping with venom. “Carol.” You beckoned, eyes remaining on Rick’s wife. “Please, take Lori downstairs before I say or do something I would definitely regret.”

“Come on, Lori.” You heard Carol say quietly, a heated glare continuing between you and the other woman as she was led from the room. Once the door closed, your anger dissolved as quickly as it had materialized. “Beth—Hershel, you know—”

“We know he’d never hurt any of us on purpose.” The girl said in that sweet southern tone of hers. “You neither.”

“Having two expectant mothers in one room with enough charged energy was just asking for an explosion of some sort. Now don’t you stress yourself over it any further.” As he neared, Hershel squeezed your shoulder. “Think you might be able to keep him from becoming agitated long enough for me to take a listen?” He lifted the stethoscope. 

You nodded with a sniffle, wiping away a tear. “Yeah. If you can go around, I have an idea.” The old man rounded the bed while you crawled up beside Daryl, gently pulling him onto his side and against your chest. Once situated, you pulled his hand back onto your belly, and though he didn’t move it, you felt him relax a little further into you. “Daryl.” You whispered into his hair. “Hershel’s gonna listen to your lungs. The stethoscope is gonna be cold but your skin is hot from the fever. I’m right here. And it’s just Hershel.” 

You carded your fingers through his hair while Beth leaned over you to clean the cut on your cheek, hands just as gentle as her father’s. There wasn’t so much as a flinch when the cold instrument pressed against the archer’s back. You paid attention to the his reactions—or lack thereof—but you also watched Hershel and the way his expression fell. It was then you knew he would tell you nothing good.

“His right lung is full of fluid. It’s hindering his ability to breathe normally. The cough is still productive?” You nodded slowly. “May I see?” Well, that was disgusting but Beth carefully pinched one edge of a cloth and carried it to Hershel. You didn’t care to have that ick on your fingers.

Your attention turned back to Daryl, his weight heavy on your side, chest rattling, cheeks flushed, and lips pale. When would the group be back? Were they okay? Should you plan to leave?

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?” You didn’t look up from stroking the archer’s cheek until your name was said again. The expression you were met with was grim. You had your concerns about the pink frothy liquid that accompanied the mucus. Fuck. You should have told Hershel immediately. “What is it?” 

“If I don’t do something about the fluid in his lung, it is possible he may—for lack of a better term—drown.” 

“When they get back—” He cut you off with a shake of his head.

“This can’t wait that long. We don’t know if—we’re not sure when they’ll return. I need to see if I have anything that I can use. What we were able to grab from the farm was extremely limited and even that has been cut in half with being on the road.” Hershel was mentally running through inventory as he began to leave the room with his daughter in tow, turning but not meeting your eyes. “I’ll need him awake for this.”

Start waking him up now. That’s what he meant. You were horrified. You had no idea how to thoroughly explain to Daryl what was going to happen, because you didn’t know. Why did he need to be awake? ‘Oh, you’re going to drown slowly if we don’t do this now.’ How badly would it hurt? 

“There’s a—time an’ place—to be pullin’ on—a man’s hair an’ this—ain’t it.”

You sputtered out apologies and let go immediately. “I didn’t even realize—I’m so sorry.” He wasn’t even looking at you, half lidded eyes blinking slowly and staring toward the wall. Your tight grip returned but this time on his bicep, pulling him more snugly into your side but easing when he buried his face against your sweater to cough. Gross, but what could you do?  “Daryl. Do you think you could try to—”

“Heard the—the old man. M’awake.” 

The two of you laid in silence, not necessarily uncomfortable but with the looming fear of what was to come and if could even possibly help him. Your fingers ran a trail up and down his arm while his hand splayed out over your belly, eventually sliding around to your side to shift you toward him. Face to face, you could now clearly see the exhaustion, the way the illness was slowly tearing him down, and the resignation in his eyes.

“I’m scared.” The words slipped from your tongue unbidden, and though his expression didn’t change, he brought a fiercely trembling hand to your cheek, hot against your skin.

“Me too.” The admission shocked you to your core. Daryl always strived to be strong for everyone. Hell, it was what led him to his current position in the first place, trudging on while ill just to make sure you and the group—mostly you—were fed. “Didn’t fall.” His thumb barely brushed the bruised cut on your cheek. “M’so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He opened his mouth, presumably to speak but quickly turned his face into the pillow to cough harshly, the force rocking his body hard enough to jar your own. You twisted to reach for a cloth, shushing him when his hold grew tighter, openly displaying his discontent at the thought of you moving away.

With gentle swipes, you wiped his face and then the pillow, folding the fabric before laying it above your heads for easy access. 

“I don’t wanna do this without you. Thumper needs their daddy. And,” you swallowed, face crumbling and tears stinging your waterline, “I need their daddy too.”

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Why the hell was he comforting you when he was the one being ravaged by an illness that would have been easily remedied in the old world? You really were weak, dependent. Where was the headstrong woman that had shown no fear on her own during the first days of the turn? “Stop—stop lookin’ at me—like m’already dead.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, pulling away abruptly to cover a fit of barking coughs that left him groaning, face lined with pain while he gasped and heaved to catch his breath.

You had no chance to offer him any sort of comfort before there came a knock and Hershel entered, Carol at his heels. “We have what we need. Well, what can be used in place of what we need.” He held some sort of thin tubing, a syringe, and a plastic mixing bowl, while Carol carried a mostly empty bottle of whiskey, some gauze, tape, and a knife. Even with your wide eyes displaying a naked fear, Daryl never turned to look. “Is he awake?”

“Get it—get on with it.” He grumbled, weak but to the point.

Hershel merely shook his head with that fond smile he had developed toward your group since the farm. “Carol, could you sanitize the knife?” Seeing her pour a portion of the liquid over the blade made your stomach turn, or maybe it was your own illness rearing its ugly head to take advantage of your weakened state. Regardless, you looked away, finding Daryl’s eyes on your own. “First, I’ll need to find the right spot. You’ll have to be completely still for this, son.”

“Yeah, okay. Got—got it.” The archer wheezed. In your peripheral, you could see the veterinarian’s arm moving, pressing and counting the ribs in search of the correct site. Daryl was rigid, his eyes squinted but remaining open and focused on you with the occasional flitting down to where your swollen belly pressed against him. His hand fisted into the fabric of your sweater on your hip.

“Okay, I’m going to—”

“Just do—just do it for christ sake.” 

The old man was still behind him for a moment, long enough to draw your gaze to his. He nodded, a silent request for you to do what you could to keep Daryl still and compliant. Drawing your eyes back to the dull blue that was watching you with such intensity that you felt crushed under the weight, well, that must have been enough for Hershel to continue.

Daryl made a noise in the back of his throat, the slightest spasm of pain indicating that the knife had pierced his skin. Hershel and Carol were moving behind Daryl, communicating through whispers and gestures while you felt Daryl’s arm begin to shake, your sweater pulling tight against your body.

“It’s okay. You’re doing so good, Daryl.” 

His eyes suddenly clamped shut, your sweater rising away from your hip when he twisted his fist. The seconds felt like minutes that felt like hours of watching him tremble with fever, weakness, and restraint. Finally, there came the blessed sound of liquid hitting the bottom of the plastic bowl. 

“Catheter is in place as best I can tell. We’re getting fluid. Don’t hold your breath, son. Nice and slow.”

You could tell he was trying, each breath a wheeze laced with pain. Slowly, you moved your hand from his arm to his face, just brushing your fingers over the stubble on his cheek. “We need to start thinking of names, you know. Thumper is cute but the baby isn’t a rabbit even though they feel like one sometimes.” Daryl’s eyes opened, tears pricking at the pinched corners. You knew he couldn’t answer you and so did he, probably couldn’t even if he tried. “I try to picture what they may look like. I hope they look like you, big blue eyes and maybe even a permanent scowl so that when they smile, it’ll be the most beautiful thing we’ve ever seen.” You thumbed away a tear that escaped down across the bridge of his nose toward the other eye.

When his throat spasmed, you thought maybe he was going to be sick but then he began to cough, loud and agonizing and dry. Your wide eyes found Hershel’s, the calm in the old man’s gaze fizzling out your terror.

“It’s okay. Just keep him still. The coughing forces out more fluid. It’s almost over.”

As painful as it was for Daryl, it was agonizing for you to watch him suffer with no way to help him. “It’s almost done. You’re doing great. Stay still and stay awake. Can you look at me?” He answered with the smallest of nods, an almost imperceptible movement. Carol moved closer to Hershel. It was torture to not know what they were doing out of your sight but at the same time, an immense relief. The zip of tape being pulled and torn was surely a sign of the procedure coming to an end.

But it was when Daryl drew in the deepest breath you had heard in two days that you felt yourself relax, truly and utterly just drain of tension, placing your forehead against his. “It’s over. Just rest now.” You focused on his even breaths, just the slightest wheeze, the barely audible rattle. He was limp against you, his hand still tangled in your sweater but no longer holding on. The archer was exhausted and sleep had claimed him almost instantly.

“Hershel?” You need not ask anything. He knew.

“It won’t last long, but it buys us some time. The incision was deep but small. I will examine him in a little while, make sure it stays clean. In the meantime, listen for any struggles with breathing. Let him rest.”

You nodded, your forehead brushing against Daryl’s. The used supplies had been gathered and the old man had already made his way downstairs. You caught Carol’s eye as she started to close the door.

“An hour.” You stated flatly.

“What?” The other woman stepped back into the room, her brow drawn.

“I’m giving them one hour. If they’re not back, I want the list and I’m going. There won’t be a discussion.” No room for argument. “You sit with him while I’m gone. You’re the only other person he really trusts.” She looked as if she might object, but when her shoulders relaxed, you knew you’d won. With a nod, she left the room.

Without Daryl’s desperate attempts to breathe, it was so quiet, a sound you welcomed and reveled in so deeply. Hershel had opened a doorway and you’d be damned if you’d let it close. Moving your arm below his to wrap around him, low on his back to avoid the incision, you used the leverage to pull yourself as close to him as you could with baby Dixon barring the way. The archer didn’t stir. Pressing your lips to his forehead, you felt the fever still burning hot, only fueling your determination to get what he needed if the group failed to return.

“I don’t care what you say or what you think. I don’t care why you think I shouldn’t.” You spoke softly, a near whisper. “I love you. And I am not losing you.”

Of course you had fallen asleep. Daryl was resting comfortably, albeit still feverish. You were cozy beside him. You felt safe while simultaneously feeling like you were guarding him. It had been more than an hour, that much was certain. Hershel hadn’t given a timeframe regarding how long the treatment would help Daryl and you were taking no chances. It was time to take things into your own hands.

As fate would have it, just as you began to disentangle yourself from Daryl, there were frantic footsteps on the stairs. Fuck. Daryl was too weak to move if walkers had wandered into the area. The door burst open without a knock, revealing a breathless blonde teenager wearing a brilliant smile.

“They’re back!”

You stared. It was all you could do, your voice had seemingly decided it was in just as much shock as you were. Besides, she had already disappeared, leaving the door wide open. A sob worked its way up your throat but you blocked it with your teeth, looking down at Daryl as he slept. 

He would be okay.

The glare you had fixed on Hershel settled the maybe you should wait outside argument rather quickly. You weren’t leaving Daryl to be manhandled should he wake up confused. 

A herd had blocked their direct path back. Of course one had. Because the world was cruel and unforgiving and the dead were always hungry and always looking for a life to take. 

Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog were bringing up supplies while Maggie assisted her father with Daryl’s care. An IV was started immediately, after carefully searching for the perfect vein due to his state of dehydration. They didn’t have the cannulas to waste. Fluids were started right along with a bag of something called Azithromycin—an antibiotic, Hershel had said. They had scored several bags of each, along with a few other things that could be used for injuries or illnesses. But when they brought up the oxygen tanks, you could have sobbed.

The nasal cannula placement was what finally woke Daryl, bloodshot eyes scanning the room before you saw the first signs of panic. “Ssh. It’s okay.” You slid your hand under his and squeezed his fingers softly. “They’re back. Just let Hershal do his thing, okay? And then I’ll chase them all out. I promise.”

You were so relieved to see his usual scowl shift into place, even if it was somewhat diminished. “Fine.” He rasped.

“Good. Now, since I have your attention—don’t touch that—” you swatted his hand away from the cannula, “take these pills.” Hershel wanted around the clock alternation of acetaminophen and ibuprofen every four hours to get the fever under control. 

With an utterance of something containing the word bossy he let you place the pills on his palm and tossed them into his mouth, swallowing them dry while you sat there offering a glass of water. There was a look shared between you that would have been amusing had either you had the energy to laugh. “Thanks.” He whispered, his hand shaking when he accepted the water. He only took a couple of sips but you wouldn’t hound him just yet. The fluids were going and he likely would take a while to feel like doing much of anything.

“We’ve done everything we can do for now. Just need to keep an eye on those bags and hang new ones when they’re empty. Keep giving the fever reducers and, son, try to drink when you feel like. The sooner you’re taking in fluids on your own, the better.” 

“Leave that oxygen right where it is too.” Maggie added in a no-nonsense tone.

Daryl’s nod was sluggish, his chin almost staying on his chest during the gesture. The commotion, everyone moving, even while he did nothing more than take a couple of pills, had left him running on fumes. As promised, you were up, hand on your lower back to rub away the ache there as you used the other to shoo everyone out of the room.

Absolutely nothing was stopping you from crawling under those sheets with him and sleeping for four glorious hours. You had asked Carol to keep an eye on that. Thank heavens he was lying in the middle of the bed. The side with the IV needed to be avoided. 

Actually lying down with the intention to sleep, knowing Daryl was receiving the help he needed, you were just done for, already drifting off and somewhere between awake and asleep when you felt Daryl’s knuckles brush against yours. You took his hand without a second thought.

“Are you sure about this?” Carol asked, standing with you in the doorway of the bedroom. She was nervously glancing back and forth between you and Daryl. Aside from a few bouts of those harsh, barking coughs, he had slept the entire four hours and barely woke enough to choke down the pills before being pulled right back under. 

“I’m sure.” You secured your knife in the sheath on your thigh and wiggled Daryl’s gun holster a little to the side so it wasn’t gouging into the bottom of your belly. Your rifle was long gone and you weren’t about to alert anyone else to your plans by choosing a different weapon. So with both your bag and Daryl’s crossbow on your back, you were ready to head out.

“You don’t have anything to prove, Y/N. We’ve lived off less. There’s a little jerky left and we have some cans—”

“I’ll be fine, Carol. I’m only going to be a few hours and hunt small game. If I happen across a doe that I can lift, I’ll take that chance, otherwise, it’ll be squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, or opossums. Yum.”

“What do I tell him if he wakes up and asks for you?” She shifted nervously.

“The truth. We don’t lie. If he tries to come after me, knock him out or barricade the door.” 

She followed you to the top of the stairs but not down, staying close to Daryl as she had promised. “You really don’t need to go.”

“I do. I’m the only other hunter in this group. I won’t have him trying to go out sooner than he’s ready to make sure there’s enough.” You paused on the bottom step, staring at the door and then toward the kitchen where everyone else was gathered. Chewing your bottom lip, you climbed up two more so she could hear you without alerting the rest. “If I’m not back before his next dose, I’m headed west. That’s where they can look.” 

Carol looked so stricken and unsure so you offered her a smile, as she always did for you. Finally, she conceded. “Okay.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

#murda writes #blood ties #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon angst #daryl angst #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #pregnant!reader #sick!daryl dixon

[yeollie-plz]

Fix Me

Preoutbreak! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Synopsis: Joel fixes stuff around your house, until Joel fixes you.

Genre: fluff, angst, smut

Warnings: Age gap (reader is mid twenties, Joel is mid thirties), kissing, crying, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of trauma, oral f! receiving, 18+ smut, porn with plot, slow burn? (ok not really but), reader is a hot mess!, insecurities, unprotected sex (don't be like them!), spanking, masturbation

Gif credits to owners!

The first time you met Joel was about a week after you moved in. Your house was directly across from his and for that week you would see him here and there. You had to admit you found him a bit attractive. You eventually wanted to go around the neighborhood and introduce yourself, instead he surprised you by coming knocking at your door.

Having just finished showering you weren't really prepared for visitors, wearing only a robe and your hair wet and stringy draped on your shoulders. So when the heavy knock rang on your door, you sighed, glancing down at your appearance. You debated if you could just ignore the knock, until another sounded.

Rolling your eyes, you decided there was no other choice but to answer. You swung the door open a bit too aggressively, finally looking at who was standing there. It was the neighbor that you had all but stalked this past week. Okay, you found him very attractive!

You blushed at your actions, seeing that his eyes widened at them as well. It seemed as though your neighbor also noticed your disheveled state, his eyes scanning over your figure. His held at your chest for a second longer before he met your eyes.

"Sorry, I'm Joel, I live across the way there." He motioned towards his place. "I just noticed that there was a hole in your porch and well I'm a contractor so..." He trailed off.

"Okay?" You said trying to urge him to get to his point so you could get back into your house. No matter how cute your neighbor was, he was not worth standing basically naked in your doorway for.

"I...um...thought maybe I could fix it for ya. I can just get it done quickly now. No charge, if I'm honest I've wanted to fix it for a while now."

"So, you came all the way over here to fix my porch?" You tilted your head in confusion. He nodded.

"I guess I have. So, darlin', do ya mind?" You tried to ignore the term of endearment and shook your head.

"I mean sure, that's fine...I guess." You whispered the last part, trying not to come off too taken aback. "I'm going to go look more presentable, you can go ahead and start." You motioned at your robe and Joel's eyes lingered once more.

You ignored it and stepped inside, closing the door behind you. You quickly sorted out your appearance. Before returning outside you stopped in your kitchen grabbing a cup and filling it with ice and water for Joel.

You silently opened your front door so you watch Joel work for a minute. You had found Joel attractive the moment you laid eyes on him, but something about watching the man work. The bead of sweat that rolled down the side of his face as he concentrated on fitting a board into the hole. The bit of skin that showed at the hem of his shirt as he reached further to grab a tool. You shook your head ignoring the growing heat between your thighs and cleared your throat. Joel's head snapped up to you, whipping his brow as he stood.

"I brought you some water, its a bit hot today." You handed him the cup. He took it was a nod of appreciation.

"I'm Y/N by the way. I never introduced myself earlier."

"Nice to meet you darlin'. I've been waiting to finally learn your name." You tried to hide your shock at his statement. He chuckled and sat the cup on the little table you had there.

"I'm 'bout done here. You can go ahead and cool off inside. I'll clean this up. Let me know if you need anything else fixed, you know where I live." He said. You could've sworn you saw his eyes drop to your lips at the mention of fixing something else. No, that can't be, you decided. You had just met the man!

"Uh, sure. Thanks Joel." He winked at you and went back to his project, leaving you not only confused but also a bit hot and bothered.

The weeks that followed, part of you wanted something to break so that you could talk to Joel again. You would see him go to work and come back, but you had no reason to really approach him. Some days you would sit out on your porch and watch him leave. His eyes would lock onto yours. This would earn you a smirk and small wave. To which you blushed and waved back.

One evening you got as bold as to check your mail around the time that he would be home. Lingering by your mailbox until you saw the familiar truck pull down the street into his driveway. That day he called out your name with a hello and you didn't stop thinking about it all night long.

You couldn't believe the way you were behaving. You barely knew Joel and yet you were entranced by him. He was almost your every waking thought. There was something in that manifesting though, as one morning you were making breakfast and a cabinet door came off one of its hinges.

You almost shrieked in excitement as you left the door hanging there. Later that night, you saw Joel's car pull up once more. You grabbed the plate of cookies you had made earlier and made your way across the street. This time you knocked on Joel's door. He answered with a surprised look on his face.

"Y/N?"

"Joel, hi! Um I wasn't sure how serious your offer to fix things was but my cabinet came off its hinges earlier and I don't have the correct screw so...I brought cookies." You held out the plate to him after your rant.

He laughed, "It was serious. Uh, I can come over Sunday to do it? It's been a long day." He rubbed the back of neck awkwardly.

"Oh! Of course! No problem at all!" Calm down, Y/N, calm down.

Another chuckle, as he finally took the plate of cookies from your hands.

"Thank you for these. Sarah will love 'em."

"Sarah? Your..." Your stomach twisted, did he have a wife? You had never seen a woman around.

"My daughter, chocolate chip is her favorite." Relief washed over you.

"Well, I hope you both enjoy them! My grandma's recipe, they are amazing, totally not biased!" He laughed and leaned against his door frame to take you in. A look of content on his face. Almost like he was weighing his options.

Fire sparked through your body and met between your legs at the look. Clearing your throat you spoke quickly, "So, I'll see you Sunday then! Have a good week, Joel!" You rushed back across the street just barely hearing his "You too!" being called out behind you.

Sunday couldn't come soon enough. In the days between then and now you had been very very frustrated. Yes, sexually frustrated. Something about the way Joel looked at you went straight to your panties. He was very easy to fantasize about.

You fantasized about him coming over, the full intention of fixing the cabinet, but nailing you instead. Digging his fingers into your hips as he lifted you onto the counter, teeth nipping at your neck. He would drop to his knees, dragging your panties down with him.

You fantasized about pulling him by his collar into your bedroom, lips connected the entire time. Passion radiating off the two of you as you pushed him onto your bed. You swung your legs over his hips, straddling him. As you continued to crash your lips into his, grinding onto his hardening member. The feeling of his jeans through your thin panties, driving you insane.

You fantasized about taking a shower together. You fantasized about him taking you on the dining table. You fantasized about him taking you on that very porch you met, for all of the neighborhood to see. God, you fantasized about him fucking you anywhere and everywhere.

It was becoming a problem.

How were you supposed to face him when your toys had gotten the most use they ever had at the expense of him? You were fucked. Royally, officially, in every way.

So, when Joel finally did come over on Sunday the only thing that ran through your mind was an image of him inside of you. Which was causing a few attention issues on your part.

"Y/N?" He called through your daydream. He was leaning on your kitchen counter staring at you with his head cocked in amusement. You dragged your eyes down him muscular arm, following the veins to his hand. Your breath caught as you pictured him eating you out there, those fingers pumping in and out of you.

"You feelin' alright, sugar?" His amusement was now changed to light concern as you still weren't responding. Goosebumps rose on your skin.

You blinked and shook your head, attempting to wash the images out of your head. Shifting your weight, you pulled at your collar, suddenly feeling too hot.

"I-yeah, I'm fine. It was just a long week." The first excuse you could think of, yet it was sort of true. A long week of touching yourself to the man that was now standing in front of you.

"I hear that! Well I'm done here so I'll just head out and let ya relax." He smiles and pushes himself off the counter, collecting the last few of his things.

He had almost made it to the door when you called out his name, stopping him in his tracks. You weren't sure what had possessed you in the moment to give you this confidence.

"Can I, uh, ask you a question?"

"Sure, sugar." He smiled at you once again.

"Are you dating anyone?" His smile stayed but something different flashed behind his eyes.

"No, I'm not. What made you curious?" He was trying to read you now. He had that look on his face again like he was debating closing the distance between the two of you.

"Darlin'?" The question came when you didn't answer, he took a step towards you.

"No reason, really! I just..." You searched his eyes like he would give you an out.

A laugh, "Well if you do find a reason, let me know." And with that he left, leaving you cursing yourself in your living room.

Spring came with the next month. And with spring came the thunderstorms. You had never been a huge fan of them, something about the booming sounds and sharp sparks of light always made your skin crawl. Your therapist was convinced there was a deeper reason behind the trauma but you hadn't been able to uncover it yet. All you knew was with thunderstorms came panic attacks and sleepless nights.

You would get up later in the morning, missing the opportunity to watch Joel get to work. And you were too busy bundled into a cocoon hiding from the storms at night to watch him return. Although you didn't know it, Joel was missing seeing you. So like a few nights before this he was watching your house, trying to catch a glimpse of you.

He had been jolted awake by a particularly loud crash of thunder, and after tossing and turning for a bit, he sighed and got out of bed. Originally going downstairs to grab a glass of water his eyes caught on your house when he noticed your bedroom light still on. Joel glanced at the clock on the wall. 2:45? What were you still doing up?

Watching your window for a minute, to see if you would switch the light out. That's when a big strike of lightening struck, knocking out all the power of the neighborhood. Joel rushed to his front door, not even bothering to put on some shoes and ran across the street to your house. He wasn't even sure why he was doing it but his body moved as if being controlled by someone else.

He got to your door, out of breath and soaked. That's when another bolt struck, the thunder following closely after it. But over all that he heard your scream. Without a second thought he turned the handle of your front door, finding it not locked.

Joel rushed through your house to your bedroom, following the sounds of your sobs. Opening the door without a second thought. You glanced up quickly, letting out another scream.

Joel held his hands up, "Sorry! I heard a scream and instinct kicked in. Your door was unlocked. I just...wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Joel." You whispered his name. Tears slid down your cheeks.

"Doll." He whispered back, testing the waters.

"I'm fine, just thunderstorms aren't my favorite thing in the world."

His eyes searched your own. "I can stay and talk with you if you need. That usually helps me."

You smiled, "Sure, that would be nice."

He walked towards the bed, about to sit on the edge of it when you stopped him.

"Wait! You're soaking wet, let me run you a bath!" You pushed yourself out of your cocoon and moved towards the bathroom. A hand around your wrist stopped you. It sent a spark through your body.

"Hate to break it to you, Sugar, but no power means no hot water. I should be the one drawing a bath for you anyways." His grip was light, like he was scared to hurt you. He noticed you looking at it and let go. "Sorry."

You shook your head, "You'll get sick all wet. Let me at least get you a change of clothes." Returning soon after with a stack of clothes.

"Here these are my dad's, should fit. There's towels in the closet if you need it." Handing them to him, you shrugged.

"Your dad's?" He took them with a bit of reluctance, insecurity washing over him.

"Mhm." You nodded, not noticing his change in demeanor and sat back on the bed. Eyes watching as he went into the bathroom and closed the door.

You looked up when he came back out, "How did it go?"

"It was a bit difficult in the dark but I managed." He stop there nervously, something still brewing in his mind.

You patted the bed next to you, silently telling him what you wanted. He took the hint and settled in close to you, but not touching. Sitting there in silence for a few minutes.

"I thought was were supposed to talk." You finally spoke up, intending for it to come off as a joke.

"You're right, sorry I just got in my head for a minute there."

You shifted your body closer to his, finally feeling his body heat radiating onto your own. It sent a shiver down your spine.

"Cold?" He asked. You shook your head no.

"Nope-" you cleared your throat, "-what were you in your head about?" An awkward silence washed over you as if he was debating telling you the truth.

Finally he sighed, "It was you giving me your dad's clothes."

"My dad's clothes?"

"Yeah, it just made me remember how much older I am than you."

It took you a second but you laughed. He gave you a sideways look. The look made you stop and blush at your inappropriate reaction.

"Sorry, but its a little funny. Its only like an eight year difference!"

"Nine." He corrected.

"Fine, nine. One year doesn't change that it isn't a big gap. The heart wants what it wants, isn't that the saying?" You hadn't realized what you said until it had slipped past your lips. "Uh-I mean..."

That's when Joel's lips crashed into yours, his hands fumbling around the sheets trying to find purchase of your hips. Your own finding their way around the back of his neck. His cold fingers made contact with your warm skin, causing a gasp to escape your lips. He took this opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth, taking control. Your fingers played with the hairs on the back of his neck.

Your lips moved in synch for a while, just feeling each other. The sexual tension that had been building for the past months finally coming to the surface.

"Do you want this?" He asked as he pulled away to trail his kisses down your neck. You nodded aggressively.

"Words, darlin'."

"I want this. I want all of you Joel." It came out breathlessly, you were barely able to find your voice.

He smirks into your neck, "Dirty girl."

At the name, you let out a whimper. His lips return to your own as he grinds his hips down. You feel his hard member graze your clit and you jerk up to meet his hips. You need him.

"'m not gonna last long, darlin'. I've been wanting to fuck you for weeks."

"Me too." You confirmed, blushing at his confession.

"Yeah? You been touching yourself to the thought of me?"

You nod.

"Show me." Normally this request would make you nervous, but something about the way Joel looks at you gives you confidence. And if this gets him to touch you then you'll do anything.

He backs off the bed to give you room. He towers over you now, watching you with hungry eyes. You pull your shirt over you head slowly. You want to give him a show. You stand now, pushing your pants and underwear down with a sway of your hips.

Turning around, you bend down to get your feet out of your pants, shoving your ass into Joel's crotch. He growls, actually growls at the action and lands a hand on your ass. Not enough to leave a mark or cause any real pain, but enough for you to lose your balance and fall onto your stomach onto the bed. His body now covers your own as he pulls your earlobe with his teeth.

"You gonna be a good girl for me or am I gonna have to punish you?" The whisper is so gruff that it almost doesn't sound like him but goddamn does it turn you on.

"Mm, I'll be a good girl."

"Good, now show me how you touch yourself." He lifts his body off of yours and you flip over. Running your hands down the swell of your breasts, letting them linger slightly at your nipples, toying with them. Joel watches intently. You move them down your stomach and finally to your soaked lips.

Your index finger slides easily with the amount of slick you produced during your make out session. If you're being honest most of it is probably from when he whispered in your ear just now but!

You toy with your clit for a second, letting a moan push past your lips at finally receiving what you really need. You let your fingers tease your lips before pushing one inside yourself. The stretch being exactly what you need. Actually, exactly what you need is standing there palming his erection.

"Joel, need you." You moan out as you add another finger inside yourself. This is all he needs to pounce onto you once again and replace your fingers with his own. Now fucking you with his two digits, the stretch being so much more delicious than your own. He reconnects your lips.

"Baby, I need to be inside you now." He admits.

"Please." You are almost begging now. He pulls his shirt over his head quickly. Rising to his feet he undoes his pants and pulls them down. Leaning over you again, he kisses you, rubbing himself onto your wet core.

"Do you have a condom, sugar?" You shake your head no. "Fuck."

"It's okay, I'm clean and on birth control."

"I'm clean too. Are you sure?" His previous dominant attitude is now replaced with concern.

"Yes, I'm sure, I just need you now." He takes your word for it and pushes into you in one swift motion. Usually your wetness as to easily push in. He stretches you out completely, causing you to grab his bicep in a search for support.

"You okay?" He askes.

"Yeah, just need a moment. You're bigger than my toys." You give yourself a minute to adjust to his size. You feel your walls contract onto his member, your body wanting him to move. "Okay, I'm ready. Ruin me."

"With pleasure." And he does just that. He fucks you at a speed that almost feels inhuman. His hips meet yours roughly, sliding his cock almost fully to the tip and then bottoming out inside of you. Part of you thinks you'll have bruises tomorrow from how roughly he is thrusting into you, but honestly it will be worth it. Especially with how good you are feeling right now.

His pace falters a bit when you clench around him, "Fuck." He mutters. Regaining his pace quickly. "Told ya I'm not gonna last. Need to make you cum, baby."

You moan at his words and clench onto him once again, earning a slap to you thigh. His hand reaching up and fondling your breast, quirking the nipple with two fingers, causing your hips to jerk up meeting his trusts.

"Come on, baby, I know you're close." Those fingers now make their way down to your clit, working it in circles. You moan at the feeling, feeling yourself getting closer and closer.

With one particularly hard thrust, he hits that spot inside of you. The mixture of that with him toying with your clit causes the coil to snap inside of you and your body warms in your orgasm. Shuddering your hips move involuntarily as he fucks you through your orgasm. Only letting go of your clit with he decides you have had enough.

"There it is." He kisses you and begins to chase his own orgasm. "Where do you want me?"

Inside of responding you open your mouth and stick you tongue out. His eyes go even darker as he speeds his hips up. Joel gets himself to the edge before pulling out of you. You quickly sit up and wait for his cum. He grunts and shoots all of himself down your throat. You swallow dutifully.

He smirks, "Pretty girl. Don't let any go to waste." He runs his thumb across a bead of his spend on the corner of your mouth pushing it inside. You lick all around his thumb, sucking lightly.

"Fuck, darlin', you're gonna get me started again."

"Maybe I want you to." You look at him with hooded eyes, smirking.

"You're in for it now." He grabs your hips and pushes you down onto the bed, attacking your mouth with his own.

You didn't sleep that night either.

#pedro pascal #fanfiction #the last of us #fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us joel #last of us joel #joel the last of us #joel tlou #smut #smut fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine

[theemporium]

Steddie dealing with wild and clingy drunk reader ?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“Honey, please—”

“I’m fine, Steve, I can stand on my own.”

“I really don’t think you can.”

“Yeah, look!”

“Baby—” 

Steve’s hands quickly reached out to catch you the second you pulled away from him, your feet stumbling over the cobblestone driveway in a pair of heels that made his head spin. His arm wound around your middle before you could stumble forward, his own feet staggering as he caught himself from falling along down with you. 

“Nice save,” Eddie snorted as he leaned his head out the open window, watching Steve try and wrangle you into the car after insisting he could do it alone. 

“Shut up, Munson,” the other boy grumbled as he reached for the passenger side door of the van, ready to lift you up before he climbed in behind you.

It was just supposed to be a small get together. Robin had insisted that you needed a night to just step away from all the drama and chaos that came with living in Hawkins, and you agreed. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had an excuse to dress up with no real reason, and a part of you missed it after spending the better part of your life in the last few months covered in dirt and chasing after monsters that shouldn’t even exist. 

The boys watched you get ready with smiles on their faces, lounging on the bed as you scrambled through your wardrobe to find something to wear. They did the same speech they did every single time you went out somewhere late at night without them: to call them if you felt weird or unsafe, to call them when you needed to be picked up, to make sure to always have something on you that could be used as a weapon.

The true joys of living in Hawkins, Indiana. 

You had left the apartment after kissing them both goodbye and promising that you’d have a fun night out for all three of you.

It was just after midnight when Robin had called them to come pick you up from her house. 

But they had dealt with you drunk so many times that it didn’t seem like an issue at first as they packed into Eddie’s van and headed out. However, after arriving at Robin’s house, they realised she had massively downplayed how drunk you were.

“She’s fucked.”

Steve shot the boy a look. “Wow, thanks for pointing that one out.”

“Grouchy,” Eddie murmured with a grin as he jumped out, rounding the van to open the passenger door. Steve had barely managed to slide out before you were launching yourself at Eddie, bursting into a fit of giggles as you wound yourself around him. “Ooft, hey, baby.”

You lifted your head with a lovesick smile on your face. “Hey, Eddie.”

“Hmm, my pretty girl,” he cooed as he grinned back at you. “You gonna get down.”

You shook your head.

“Easier to get you up the stairs, I guess,” he murmured as he nodded towards Steve to open the door. 

You didn’t let go of the boy as all three of you made your way to your shared apartment. Your head was resting on his shoulder, nuzzling yourself into the crook of his neck as you listened to the soothing voices of your boyfriends. 

“C’mon, doll, we gotta get you to bed.”

“I’m comfy where I am,” you whined, almost purring when you felt Steve’s hands running up and down your back. 

“Promise we cuddle afterwards,” Steve bargained as he finally got you to latch off of Eddie. However, it lasted all of thirty seconds before you were wrapping your arms around Steve’s waist and pressing your cheek against his back. 

It was more of a hassle to get you changed into comfier clothes than either of them cared to admit, and similarly could be said about managing to get the makeup off your face. But both boys managed to wrangle you down, guiding you over to the bed when you were already half asleep on their shoulders. 

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Both boys shared a look over your head. 

“Yeah, honey, anything,” Steve eventually answered, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked down at you.

You nuzzled your face further into your pillow, reaching both hands out until you could grab some part of each of them. “I have the prettiest boyfriends ever.”

The tightness in his chest eased as Steve let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

Eddie could barely bite back his grin as he leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Pretty boyfriends for a pretty girl.”

.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie x reader #steddie x you #steddie x y/n #steddie fic #steddie one shot #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot

[gravedigginbbydoll]

It's Never Just Coffee

Rockstar Eddie x F! Reader Angst Blurb

AN: Hi. I've been having a rough time lately but I cranked this one out to release some angst and pain. Inspired by Coffee by Chappell Roan (take a listen). Thanks to @eddies-house for indulging me and encouraging me to write this. Enjoy.

CW: Pain, heartbreak, sexual content, making love, allusion to being used, F!MC experiencing depression and heartbreak and anxiety, extreme loneliness, toxic relationship, repetitive cycles, angst no comfort.

You sighed, staring at your phone. Four months. It had only been four months. The stupid bright red landline was a blaring reminder of tonight; your heart squeezed at the memory of the conversation you had just a few days ago. He had been gone on tour, leaving you in your heartbreak, your sleepless nights eventually fading after three months. The pain was beginning to subside to a dull ache. Of course, as soon as the wounds began to heal, he wandered back into your life. It wasn’t like you were strong enough to say no. Despite the anger you tried to build up, all you felt was the gut-wrenching sickness of unrequited love. Of yearning. You looked back at the mirror in front of your desk, adjusting your makeup. 

It’s a mistake. 

We shouldn’t meet. 

Not at Enzo’s. 

You ignored the nagging voice in your head, your heart tugging at the idea of those soft brown eyes. The glint of his silver rings. Your hands shook as you grabbed your bag and bit your lip. You dressed up, sure. But it was just to make him realize what he lost. At least, that was what you were telling yourself. 

You headed to the door, glancing around your sad and lonely studio apartment, swearing to yourself you’d come back alone. 

But your heart knew it was a lie. 

You walked up to the counter at Enzo’s, gave the name on the reservation, and eventually sat. You ordered a bottle of wine despite the voice in your head scolding you as to how bad of an idea it was. You sat there, feigning confidence, despite feeling like your heart was out in the open. You sip on the alcohol, recalling the last time you and him were at Enzo’s. 

You were meeting his Uncle Wayne, and everything was going swimmingly. Up until he suddenly was leaving for a meeting with a producer, claiming this was ‘the one.’ You two ended up in a screaming match outside the restaurant, and he left you in the pouring rain. Wayne drove you home, apologetic over his nephew’s outburst. 

You’re pulled out of the memory when a waitress comes over, asking if you are still waiting for the rest of your party. You look up, heart sinking. Of course, he was late. You nod, a sad, soft smile on your lips as you recheck your watch. The waitress gives you a sad but knowing look and leaves you be. You wait a few more minutes, sighing when it reaches thirty minutes. You’re about to leave money for the wine and leave, standing up, when a teasing voice rings through the air. 

“What, couldn’t handle the idea of seeing my ugly mug again?”

You looked up, heart-stopping in its tracks. You had hoped that after all the ugliness that ensued, you would see his true colors. He’d be hideous to you. But of course, he wasn’t. His eyes were mischievous as ever, a warm shade of brown that filled you with fluttering nerves. His grin was as boyish and charming as usual, his dimples clear as day. His hair was up in a bun, messy curls framing his face. Unlike the old Eddie you knew, he wore appropriate clothes for Enzo’s and not ill-fitting borrowed button-ups from Wayne. He had an expensive watch on his wrist, a subtle marker of the changes in his life. 

You smiled softly, knowing the action didn’t meet your eyes. It couldn’t. You couldn’t push down the way your heart soared at his familiar rasp, his mannerisms as he sat down, and even his stupid jokes. It hurt how you knew; you knew he had a restless leg angled out from under the table to not shake it. 

You shouldn’t know so much about someone who should be a stranger. 

You should leave.

But you don’t. 

Eddie is nothing but charming. He buys a bottle of expensive and sweet white wine, then offers to pay for your dinner. You let him despite your gut telling you not to. He was still every bit of a storyteller, describing in detail every crazy thing that happened on the small tour. He gives updates on Corroded Coffin’s latest projects. You drink it all in, the alcohol loosening your mind and maybe your control. 

Two hours later, you were still seated at the table, leaning into his every word, wishing you were here under different circumstances. He kept randomly interjecting on your gorgeous appearance, and your inebriated mind started believing his words. 

You were giggling at a story he’s told about Gareth fainting at the sight of a fan’s boobs when Eddie’s face suddenly turned sincere, and he reached for your hand. You let him grab it (foolishly), eyebrows furrowed at the change in his demeanor. 

“You know…I sincerely fucked up, doll. And I don’t think I ever said it…but I’m sorry. You truly deserved better.” 

You blink at him a few times. Your heart seems to tug at your mind, dragging it toward Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. You smile a sad smile and wave him off, trying to be stronger than you are. 

“We both made mistakes. It’s fine.” 

He smiles softly at you, his eyes a bit sad, as he shakes his head. 

“Yeah, but I lost the treasure. You.” 

He laughs humorlessly, swirling the wine in his glass, clearly taking up after the Californian producers he was around these days, seeing as old Eddie rarely drank anything other than cheap beer. 

“All because I was a fucking coward and couldn’t admit I loved- love…you.”

He looked up at you through thick lashes, his cheeks pink. Your heart felt ripped in half. Your eyes watered as you bit your trembling lip and looked away, breathing slowly. The breaths are shaky. 

Eddie grasped your hand and tugged you out of the seat, leaving an absurd amount of cash on the table and helping you to the door. You felt yourself melt into his familiar touch, and your soul weep. God, you had missed the warm touch and the smell of his spicy and sweet cologne, the rumble of his laugh against your back…

He holds your hand, walking with you around town. Somehow, he makes dingy Hawkins shine so much brighter. You walk the old town square, leaning against him as he softly talks to you, voice whispering how much he missed you. You mumble back the secrets you swore you’d never spill. How much you missed him. How proud you were of him. How you were worried he would replace you with some leggy blonde in California. He laughed at that one, pecking your forehead. 

You shivered in the cold Hawkins night breeze, knowing that it was not that cold, and Eddie had already draped his leather jacket over you, and it was a mistake because it would lead to-

“Wanna get out of the cold? You could show me your cute little studio.” 

That. 

You entered your sad apartment, still tipsy and stumbling against Eddie. You turned on the lights and feel your cheeks heat. It was embarrassing how raw this place made you feel. Eddie could see your bed…your kitchen…your bathroom. You suddenly were aware of how dangerous this was and tried to turn to Eddie to maybe give an excuse for how tired you were. 

He was looking down at you, eyes full of longing, gaze on your lips. His voice was strained as he kept fighting to look into your eyes, but his own continued to drift down. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You bit your lip, your stomach flipping as your heart twisted in pain, but you felt in your bones that you wanted nothing more in the world. You nodded weakly, giving in. 

Eddie crashed his lips to yours, his hands cupping your face. He kissed you like he needed you for oxygen like you were intoxicating. And god, if you didn’t crave it. If you didn’t melt, bring your arms around his neck, tugging at his roots and making him moan. He continued to kiss you, and every time he pulled away for a breath, he left you breathless. He wrapped his arms around your waist, continuing to kiss you and eventually peppering kisses down your neck, mumbling how much he missed you. You whimpered and pawed at him, eyes watering. You wanted nothing more than this. This was home to you. His touch. His gaze. His warmth. 

He backs you up into your bed, hands under your dress and touch burning you. He leans in to kiss you when you put a hand to his chest and pant, stopping him. He looked concerned before you gazed up at him, knowing you were opening your chest and leaving your heart vulnerable to any damage. You didn’t learn. 

“Make love to me,” You whispered, voice thick with emotion.

Eddie’s gaze softened, cupping your face and leaning in to press his forehead to your own. He nodded wordlessly before kissing you and touching you gently, lifting your dress over your head. His lips were everywhere, gentle yet bruising kisses, marking you his. He mumbled how much he loves your thighs, your stomach, your shoulders…He softly touched and kissed you before letting you take off his shirt. He quickly removed his own pants to focus on you, muttering praises and making holes in your heart with every sentence. 

“You’re so gorgeous.” 

“I don’t deserve you.” 

“I’m sorry I let you go, love.” 

“I love you, I love you, I love you. I’m sorry I was too much of a coward to say it before.”

By the time he’s entered you, you’re crying softly as he kisses away tears, still muttering ‘I love you’s and holding you tenderly. He thrust into you at a slow but toe-curling pace, his forehead against you as he praised you, telling you how perfect you are for him, how good you feel, how he was stupid to let you go. You clutch at him, crying and muttering back, kissing him again and again, your heart twisting in your chest, the heartbreak unbearable. 

You felt an overwhelming sensation of heartache, pleasure, and yearning all build up, your tears flowing faster as gasps and moans leave your mouth, Eddie’s breath against you, his lips at your neck. He continues to mutter how good you are for him and how good you feel, your body trembling beneath him at the confessions. Eventually, the two of you reach a high, your cries warbled in a raw throat, his grunts growing more animalistic and desperate. You felt the pressure build-up, stuttering out declarations of love over and over. Eddie chased your high with his own, tackling your mouth with bruising kisses and whispered affection. 

You felt him finish in you, the familiar feeling of fullness and his release making you shudder. You laid there for a moment as he collapsed on you, staring up at the ceiling with a blurry gaze. You felt as though you were back there, briefly, before it all went downhill. 

Eddie got off of you slowly, delicately kissing your nose before pulling out of you, the two of you collectively whining at the loss of contact. He got up, headed to your bathroom, and returned with a warm and damp rag, cleaning you up gently. He then threw the rag in the bathroom sink, headed to your kitchen, and grabbed you a glass of water as you shakily got up to use the restroom, heart racing. You returned to the bed, and he held the glass for you, letting you drink as he softly caressed your hair. 

After a minute of quiet yet soft gazes and gentle touches, Eddie pulled on his underwear, crawling into your bed and holding you. Your heart felt like it could soar, even with all the pierced holes. You had felt your breathing slow, and your eyes grew heavy as you were lulled into a sense of security and familiarity you had longed for. 

You woke up to your alarm on your phone, eyes fluttering open in confusion. You looked at the bedside table, your alarm clock flashing in the dim room. The sun was just peaking through the windows, the light making you slowly wake up. Your memory was jolted with the reminder of Eddie, Eddie, in your bed. But as you had stretched, glancing over to the other side of the bed, it was empty. You sat up slowly, head swimming with confusion and heart sinking increasingly by the minute. 

You glanced around before seeing the note left on your coffee table. Still naked from the night before, you get up, wrapping yourself in a robe, before grabbing the letter. You open the paper, hands shaking at the first sentence, the rest of the words swimming as a sob escapes your throat, your gut twisting as the familiar pang of heartache joins you once again. 

I’m sorry. 

Six months pass, holidays come and go, and friends are cautious to be gentle with you. You never told anyone what happened that night, but figured they knew. You knew it was obvious how you avoided magazines with his face plastered on them and ignored the posters and billboards for his latest tour. Dodged any reminder, including avoiding Wayne Munson’s regular Tuesday grocery trips in Hawkins, even though it required you to use more gas, as Hawkins only had one grocery store. You were extra cautious.

It was spring, the flowers blooming, and the weather was warming up. Your heart wasn’t healed by any means, but you were slowly shaking off the numbness and pain. You had been invited to Robin’s birthday, deciding to go despite the inkling feeling that something may go wrong. 

You showed up at the Harrington house, and Steve greeted you with a warm hug. He ushered you into the backyard, tables set up, and people mingling. Robin tackled you with a hug, making you laugh, the sound still unfamiliar in your own ears. She was wearing a goofy paper crown that Will had made out of paper mache, the small detail making you smile. 

You walked around, greeting everyone and hugging them. You were grateful that you didn’t see a familiar mop of brown curly hair, knowing he was probably busy promoting the debut album and first international tour. You slowly loosened up a bit more, chatting it up with Nancy and joking over the kids (who are now in college) and how much they’ve stayed the same despite the years. Your heart feels a little lighter.

You’re sipping on some punch with Nancy and Robin, laughing at Dustin and Mike tackling each other, their antics amusing you. You felt your heart sink when you heard a gasp, and your eyes caught a flash run through the backyard to tackle the two younger boys, the laughter clear as day. Your chest squeezed, and you turned your back to the scene, excusing yourself to the restroom. 

You walked as fast as you could, breathing picking up as your body trembled. You entered the downstairs bathroom, hands clutching at the counter and biting your lip to keep it from shaking. You couldn’t fathom why he was here or who invited him and knew it was selfish to run off like that. It was Robin’s day. And you had shown up knowing he was still friends with some of your friends. You knew Nancy and Robin had been upset with him regarding the nasty breakup, but Dustin worshiped him. And you knew Steve had probably invited him, polite and friendly. No one except Nancy and Robin knew about the breakup and what happened; the ordeal was too painful and embarrassing to retell. 

You breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm the wavy breaths. You needed to show him you weren’t shattered without him. That you weren’t broken to pieces. You splashed your face with cold water, thankful for the waterproof makeup you were sporting. You stayed in the bathroom a few minutes more before heading out to the backyard, ignoring him. You walked towards El, sitting with her and talking about her classes, smiling as she described her University, ignoring the intense gaze across the backyard. 

You walked around, chatting and keeping your gaze away from the culprit of your heartache. You were quick to excuse yourself when he showed up to join whatever conversation you were in. By the end of the evening, you were exhausted, and your wounds were fresh. You hugged Robin and waved to the rest, heading out, thankful now that you had walked. You could maybe get some fresh air and- 

“Wait.” 

The hair on your neck stood up, and you turned, unable to ignore the man before you. He was more filled out, with hair in a low bun and curls less messy. New black lines joined faded ink, and his clothes seemed to fit him better. Gone were the hand-me-down clothes and small-town boy. He was still devastatingly beautiful. His eyes were smudged with black eyeliner, and a few piercings decorated his ears and nose, really elevating his look. You swallowed, faking a smile. 

“Oh. Hi, Eddie.” 

He gave a sheepish smile, cheeks tinged pink. “Can…I mean, can we go for a walk?” 

Your smile faltered as you felt your brows pinch together, nerves picking up. “Well, I don’t-” 

“Just a walk. In the small park by the middle school. I know how much you love the willows over there.” 

You swallowed, trying to will the words ‘no’ out of your mouth but look at his eyes. Those brown, warm, and welcoming eyes. They were pleading. They were…your deathbed. 

“Ah…Al-alright. Sure.” 

He beamed at you.

You were walking together at the park, being quieter and more cautious this time. Eddie continued to charm and dazzle you, but now your wounds were better guarded. He seemed to pick up on this and frowned, brown eyes full of hurt and guilt. 

“Y/N?”

You smile weakly at him, looking up politely. 

“Yeah?”

He turned his entire body to you and sighed, eyes sorrowful. So…soulful. 

“I- I’m sorry I fucked up. I… I thought I was doing what was best for us both. I’m a horrible man and never around, and I always leave you hanging and so- I mean, I know it’s not an excuse- But the letter- I’m sorry. I should’ve been less of a jackass. I just-” He runs a hand down his face and sighs, looking at you with sincere eyes. 

“I’m a dick. I’m sorry.” 

Your smile faltered. Fuck. It would’ve been easier if he ignored it. You could fester, pout, and be angry if he missed the mistake. You could walk away. You could- 

“It’s fine.” 

“It’s not,” He insists, eyes sincere and glassy. “I’m… I’m trying not to become my dad. I just…I lose my mind around you. You’re so beautiful and enchanting and…I always want you, doll.” 

The rasp in his voice. The need. The…absolute…weakness…of you. You look up at him and smile sadly, eyes stinging with unshed tears. 

“I always want you too, Eds.” 

You shivered and looked up at the willow tree you two were beside, the carved wood familiar. It’s your tree. Eddie walked up, his smile bittersweet, tracing your crudely scratched initials and heart. He looked 10 years older. 

“Remember this?” 

You held yourself, memories flooding your brain. You tried to avoid digging a more prominent grave, knowing this would lead back to your bed again with one wrong move. You simply nod. Eddie retraced the heart, voice distant like he was chasing the memory. 

“We were 16. You swore no boy would ever like you…which was ridiculous because you were adorable. But anyway…you swore they wouldn’t. And I said, ‘Why don’t we get them to pay attention? You’re off the market now! They’ll come running like dogs!’. I was, of course, lying. I just wanted to pretend you felt the same way. So I carved into this tree, making you laugh and shake your head. And it only took stupid Tommy Delwood asking you to prom two years later for me to finally get the guts to tell you I wanted the stupid tree to not be a lie.” 

Your stomach twisted at the story, lip trembling. Of course, he’d tug at your heartstrings. Of course, he’d rip off your faux armor. You were crumbling with every word, every memory of what once was. 

“Of course, I continued to be a coward and idiot. And…ever since losing you… I came to this tree. Everyday. Why? I don’t know. Maybe to remember an easier time. Maybe to wish I never broke your heart. Maybe I wish I never had you so I wouldn’t know how badly it hurts to lose you. I just… This is the one place that keeps me going in Hawkins.” 

He looked at you, tears streaming down his face, eyes rimmed red. Your heart shattered, waves overtaking your eyes, and bitter pain filled your lungs. He smiled weakly, biting his lip. 

“I’m… I’m sorry. I want to get better. I want to be better for you. That’s why I keep leaving. I’m trying to work out issues with this therapist and fix all my shitty habits and problems. I know it’s unfair, and I’m weak and keep… coming back. But I need you. I- I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore- just…give me some time?” 

You felt your heart rip violently, your tears a constant flow. Thorned roses tightened around your veins and lungs, sharp tips ripping into flesh and muscle. Your lips tried to tug up with no success. 

Eddie sighed in reply, pushing off the tree. His eyes were sad, and his body slumped an inch shorter. He smiled weakly. 

“Let me walk you home?” 

Eddie and you walked home in relatively silent steps; the only sound on the journey was your faint breaths. You reached your studio, frowning at how dark it is, the town of Hawkins eerily quiet. Against your best judgment, you open your door and let Eddie in. You don’t realize your mistake until he sits on your couch, eyes still tinged with red as you hand him a coffee just as he likes. He takes the four sugars and one cream coffee, sipping slowly. Your heart seemed to be puppeting your mouth this time around.

“It’s dark out,” You mumble. 

“Y/N,” Eddie warns, eyes swimming with caution and guilt. 

“You left your truck at Steve’s. He’s probably asleep.” 

“Y/N,” Eddie sighed, running a hand down his face and voice strained.

You turn around and head back into your bathroom, starting to get ready for bed. Eddie’s still sipping on the coffee when you return, eyes rimmed red and glassy. He avoids your gaze. 

“I don’t want to hurt you. Even if I want you… Even if I need you.” 

You nod and turn out the light suddenly, getting under your covers. You smell Eddie’s aftershave and feel his arms wrap around you. 

“Only a cuddle, okay?”

You nodded, breathing slowly. Maybe you were stronger. 

You found yourself under Eddie minutes later, panting and clawing at his back as he pounded into you over and over for hours. He was kissing your cheeks and lips, rambling his love for you over and over, holding you tightly yet somehow tenderly. He kept making you see stars. By the end, you felt sweaty and spent like a hole in your chest was exposed. 

Eddie was kind as always, cleaning you up and smiling, his demeanor less sorrowful. You two cuddled until you fell asleep and lulled off into a dreamless rest. 

You woke to empty sheets, and you felt lifeless. 

No note. 

No goodbye. 

You were a fool.

One year later, you were in California. It was fall, and the absence of the dramatic change in leaves made your stomach twist with longing. You were here for new beginnings. No more walking the graveyard of your relationship with Eddie. No more following your family blindly and being a people pleaser. 

You had left in the dead of night, driving across states, surviving off of cheap dollar menus at the drive-thru. You knew Eddie spent most of his time in California, but the state wasn’t Hawkins. It was big enough that you would likely never see each other. 

You could pretend like you were healed but the wounds never set right. Scars were left over your heart, and small holes were in your armor. You couldn’t hang out with any of your old friend group; too much connection to the man who ripped you to shreds. Robin and Nancy shunned Eddie and never brought him up, but you knew that wasn’t fair to them. They shouldn’t be in your silly drama regarding your love life. You distanced yourself until you left, only leaving a note to let them know you were safe and leaving for California’s warm breezes. 

You had settled into a small beach town in southern California, the breezes cool and the sky blue. You were staying in a tiny house, lacking your personality. But you took it day by day, visiting shops and cafes nearby, taking long walks on the shore. Some days, just sitting by the beach and writing in a journal. You had no phone. No friends. You were a blank slate. 

You were working at a small bookshop, satisfied with the slow pace of life. Some days, you’d sit full of numbness, lonely in your seclusion and voluntary exile. But then you remembered how little you knew of yourself. You couldn’t remember what life was like before him. 

Your favorite color was the shade you thought looked best on Eddie. Your favorite movie was the one you’d seen together on your first date. Your favorite book was the one you had spent time and time again recalling to him. Hell, even your favorite foods or hobbies involved him in some way. It wasn’t his fault. You’d let yourself be consumed by him. He was a brilliant star, and you were engulfed in his shadow, even as young teens. You just wanted to relearn about yourself. 

Sadly, fate was a cruel mistress. 

You had made a new friend, a girl at your job who was bubbly and sweet and loved alternative music. She was quick to try and pull you out of your shell and take the ‘sad, mopey mystery girl’ to a show near Los Angeles. You agreed despite your gut telling you no. 

Ironically, Eddie wasn’t part of the concert. 

On your way back from the trip, you bumped into the new shiny celebrity that your ex-lover had become. You were scanning the shelves for a snack at a gas station with your new friend and her boyfriend. You reached for a bag of sour gummies (your favorite), only to have your hands brushed by another, only much more calloused and masculine than yours. 

“Oops! My bad,” A chuckle rumbled from his chest. 

Your heart sank quickly. 

You’d recognize him anywhere, no matter how raspy or grown the voice sounded. You kept your gaze on your shoes, dropping your hand and trying to turn away; you mumbled out an ‘it’s fine,’ hoping he didn’t recognize you. 

He stopped in his tracks. 

He grabbed your hand, turning you gently as he lowered the sunglasses covering warm brown eyes. It didn’t matter that he had on sunglasses, a bun with a bandana covering his signature curls, or even that he was at a gas station that was a speck on a map. He was still him.

“Y/n?” He asked, voice raw with emotion, eyes swimming with sorrow and longing. 

“Steve told me you disappeared. Just left a note, and… no one’s heard from you. I visited. Couldn’t get anyone to tell me where you’d gone- I…,” He swallowed, eyes glassy as he continued to look you up and down. You felt the first bout of fear, sorrow, and desperate longing that you swore off months ago. You were glad for the emotions, but…you almost wanted the numb loneliness and hurt to sink back into your bones. You didn’t think your heart could take another wound. 

“I, I just can’t believe you’re here… Ar-are you okay? Is everything okay? I-” He stopped his rambling momentarily, breathing and sighing, soft tears rolling down his cheeks. Your heart squeezed as your mind raced. 

No. No. Not again. We cannot do this again.

“I…Can we go get coffee or somet-something? Everyone’s worried sick and- I know I don’t deserve- but…,” He was wringing his hands and fidgeting with his rings, a nervous habit he had since he was a teen. “I just-” 

Your heart was racing as you smiled sadly. You felt your mouth open as you willed the words out, your insides twisting in sorrow and your heart seeming to sink below the ground. But somehow, your mind took control. For once, you left him speechless. 

“It’s never just coffee, though, is it?”

Eddie stared at you in shock, eyes knowing and shoulders slumping as his tears flowed still, brows pinched. You smiled sadly and waved softly, heading out the door with your friend and climbing into the car. You leaned your head against the window, staring at the rundown building, Eddie staring out the window through the aisle. Your heart seemed to sink deeper as your stomach twisted, but some of you felt lighter. 

No more mourning. No more giving everything to get nothing in return. 

You were on your own. But you were free. 

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things 4 #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson au #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst blurb #stranger things smut #sstranger things blurb #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #angst no comfort

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Hello!! What about the M6 with an Mc who still sleep with stuffed animals?? I still need to lol

The Arcana HCs: When MC sleeps with plushies

~ I hope you're ready for some lighthearted, tooth-rotting fluff anon! this one's dedicated to Pooh-boo, my loyal dream guardian of 22 years, and his many friends. thanks for the lovely prompt! - brainrot ~

Julian

Hey, you do you! If it helps you with stress or sleep then he's not one to judge

Seriously though, does it actually help with sleep? What about nightmares, does it help with nightmares? It does? Good to know, good to know ...

He will ask you if they have names and personalities and then suggest you introduce them to him. He will also jokingly introduce himself to them and thank them for their service

He now refers to them as "the children"

If you have any kind of discussion or lighthearted disagreement he will bring up "the children" and tell you that they're on his side

No really, they think he should stay up a few more hours too! They're so invested in seeing how this study turns out, you wouldn't deprive the children of that, now would you MC?

You should really join him at the Rowdy Raven tonight, MC! The children will be fine for a few hours, they think it would do you good as well. Malak can babysit them!

Speaking of Malak, if you get a raven plushie at any point in time it's Julian's favorite child

He will threaten to replace Malak with it if he doesn't behave

He doesn't mind you bringing the plushies to bed as long as he's still the main thing you're snuggling with. He has been known to wake up holding one with no idea how it got there

Asra

They think it's the most adorable thing they've ever witnessed, please never stop, it'll make them so sad not to see you all cuddled up and cute like that

Will snuggle them with you if you're okay with it

Makes a habit of bringing one back from every trip, in all the colors of the rainbow. Sometimes he'll name them in advance and concoct a ridiculous backstory for when he introduces them to you

Back when you were still recovering, they would sometimes leave a dab of their perfume on one of them so you wouldn't miss them too much at night

When you realized that he missed you on his trips too, you went out and got him a small one to fit in his bag and keep him company

They cried a little after you gave it to them (without letting you see)

It really helped him cope with your memory loss to know that you still wanted to be a part of his life, even when your condition and his isolating habits made it difficult

They have a favorite of your plushies and will cuddle it in front of you before they leave so it's charged full of all their snuggles to share with you while they're gone

Faust likes hiding in the pile of them and playing peek-a-boo, popping her little head out at random intervals

She refers to all of them as comfy friend and will threaten anyone who laughs at them

Nadia

Very, very surprised when she finds out, to the point of being momentarily speechless

She's not judging you at all. She just figures that it's a specifically MC thing that you like to do, even if she doesn't understand the appeal

When you start sharing her chambers with her she's initially a little put off by having them in her space

Not because she dislikes them, but because they're seen as childish and she's spent the last thirty years at least doing her best to distance herself from any and all childishness possible

She still likes to spoil you though, so she will regularly purchase new ones for you until you have enough to bury yourself in them

You notice she tends to get owl-themed ones, especially when they're made of similar material to her comfier clothes

She does grow to like them eventually

There's even a few well-founded rumors that she was spotted talking to them when you weren't around for her to verbally process her thoughts

Looking at them becomes almost as soothing as meditating

She will never admit to any of these things

Funnily enough, she does feel the need to be in a different room from them whenever she wants to heat things up with you a little. Something about their innocent little gaze freaks her out

Muriel

He doesn't say anything the first time he sees you hunker down with one, but his face and his mind are both screaming "What."

Genuinely did not know that anyone past the age of five could do that

Assumes that it's because you don't have a familiar yet and this is your way of coping. He knows he sleeps much better with Inanna around

He suddenly decides that he likes your habit when Morga makes several negative comments about it on your trip South. He'll quietly suggest you put it between the two of you so it doesn't roll out

He knows they're important to you, so he makes sure to have a good spot for them in the hut when you move in

Ideally somewhere out of Inanna's reach. You both know she probably doesn't care that much but neither of you wants to find out how quickly she could rip one to shreds if she felt like playing

He does find that they're very soothing to hold and squeeze sometimes, especially after a taxing day

He'll come inside and carefully wash his hands before sitting by the fire with one, idly smoothing his massive fingers over it if he accidentally squeezes too hard

If you charge one full of your cuddles and hand it to him to keep him company while you're gone, he'll turn bright red and sweat

He will keep it nearby and safe until you return though

Portia

She laughs when she finds out

Not the mean kind of laugh, the friendly kind of laugh that thinks it's a little silly but in a good way and very endearing

She loves how cozy they make the cottage feel. Don't just keep them in a heap, put some on the couch! On the chairs to hold a place for unexpected guests! By the fire, but not too close!

She never sleeps with them herself, but she doesn't mind them joining you at all

She does like playing with them though

Most of the time it's just to tease you. She'll hold one in front of her face and wake you up with a silly voice

Other times, if she's bored and in a very specific mood, she'll go full storyteller mode and use them to act out entire epics

The last novel she read? It's being dramatically reenacted on your stomach, complete with little red ribbons for the backstabbing scene:

"Blood! Blood! Blood! And ... DEATH."

You will never be able to read Hamlet the same way again

You were worried that Pepi might try to test out her claws on them but it turns out that she likes to nap in them instead. Which makes her hard to spot, because she is also very small and fluffy and cute

Portia once used an old skirt of hers to make you one for when she took an ambassador trip without you. It's your favorite

Lucio

When he first saw you holding one as a ghost he laughed so hard it made you jump

Gave you so much grief for it at first that Asra finally snapped and threatened to shove one up his -

- you know what, that would be too cruel to the plushie in question

He didn't comment on it again, and later apologized quietly once he had more practice acknowledging his mistakes

He still secretly thinks it's babyish until you ask him to hold one for you while you're juggling your traveling pack

It's so ... soft. And oddly comforting

Tries to hide the fact that he's reluctant to give it back when you're ready to hold it again

But now he reminds you to bring it to bed every night, because you sleep better with it, right? Yeah, no other reason

Except that you keep waking up with it missing, only to find it snuggled under his chin

He claims every time that it just got there because he was cuddling you, and doesn't say anything when you start bringing at least two to bed instead

Throws a fit when you get him one of his own because he's scared that his gauntlet might tear it. He names it five minutes later and now they're inseparable

He got one each for Mercedes and Melchior so they aren't tempted to chew on any of yours. Or his

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fluff #the arcana shitpost #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Basically reader is a friend and model for Mitsuya and the other models are jealous so they bully her when he’s not looking. But then over Time the two fall in love and eventually secretly get married and kept it that way cause of publicly and imagine the surprise of all the models when they cross the line in being mean her and right before the models get in trouble he tells them to get their hands off his wife . Everyone is shook and the models are fired

This one will be short but sweet!

Go-See: Takashi Mitsuya x Fem!Reader

wc: 741

tw: smut

masterlist

"I don't think this will fit you..." A slight scowl crosses the other model's face as she holds up the garment made especially for you. "You have gained some weight since you've been away."

"Away?"

"We've noticed you haven't been modeling as frequently," another model smirks. "Finally seeing that you're not really wanted, hm?"

The comments sting, but you shrug them off, taking the garment from the first model and walking off to the dressing room. For years, you've endured the smirks, the fake smiles, the tight lips, the shows of disgust... but the only way you could bear it was knowing it was all for Mitsuya.

The dressing room door opens as you think of him and how you've been spoiled by him for the past two years. "Hey." You turn to see Mitsuya walking toward you, a shy smile crossing his features. "You look incredible."

"Thank you," you reply, lacing your arms around his neck and sighing. "I was wondering if it would still fit, but--"

"And why wouldn't it fit?" Mitsuya wonders, chuckling. "I know your body. Inside and out." The suggestion of "inside" makes you giggle like a schoolgirl, and Mitsuya makes a kissy face while leaning toward you.

"Mitsuya," you croon, and his hands go to your waist, holding you gently. "How much time until the show?"

"Thirty minutes. You don't need hair and makeup, do you?"

"Already done." Mitsuya looks over your form, nodding.

"Perfect." You're hefted onto the dressing room table before Mitsuya pushes the dress around your waist. "I've been waiting all day to taste you."

What ensues is a slow, sensual, and reverent cunnilingus session. You're sure if another model walks in on you, rumors would fly at the speed of light, but somehow, you're spared from that fate.

Mitsuya takes his time - seeing as he's the star of the show - and you orgasm just as the stage manager calls out, "Five minutes to show" on the intercom. Mitusya stands, wiping his face, and then presses a quick kiss to your lips.

"See you out there, babe."

Even though you're still riding the high from your orgasm and Mitsuya's love, the looks the models give you wither your spirits. The runway is more forgiving, and the audience gazes upon you with awe and wonder. Mitsuya has the capability to make anyone look at you with reverence, you note. Anyone except the other models, that is.

"You fumbled out there!" The shout catches your attention while the music prevents it from reaching the audience's ears. "If you had just done your job--"

"Hey," you call out, hurrying over to where the commotion is. You spot a model shouting at a stage crewperson at the top of her lungs with her hand raised in the air, poised to slap the person. Again, it seems from the red print on the young woman's face. "Hey! You can't do that to people on the crew!" You step between the frightened woman and the angered model, but you soon find that your actions might have been a mistake when the model curls her lip at you.

"And what do you have to say now, missy?"

"You might be a great model," you begin. "But you've got a shit attitude." The air in the area is sucked out as soon as the words leave your mouth. Furious, the model raises her hand to slap you too, but an alarmed exclamation prevents her from landing it right on your face.

"Enough!" Mitsuya, red from the top of his head to his neck, strides towards you purposefully, his eyes wild. "Explain this to me, and quickly."

"It's not what it looks li--" Mitsuya gives the girl a hard glance, and she lowers her eyes before stepping back.

"I'm not sure who thought it was a good idea to raise a hand to my wife," he bites out. "But this all ends today. The rest of you, see yourselves out." It takes a moment before the models begin to file out, shocked at the revelation and somewhat dismayed.

"You didn't have to do that," you murmur to Mitsuya, who shrugs and extends his hand out to you. "Who's going to finish the show?"

"There will be more, dearest. The world isn't in short supply of kind and hard-working models." You take his hand, relaxing finally. "Let's go out and end this show on a high note, yes?"

#mitsuya takashi x reader #takashi mitsuya #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya takashi smut #takashi mitsuya x reader #takashi mitsuya smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers

[theysaidhush]

Kinktober Day 2: Inflation

Pairing: Song Mingi x (ImpliedVirgin?)Reader

Song Mini was a man of his words. When he said that he would do something, he did it, and was good at it. Whatever it was. If requested to write lyrics for a new song, you could see him thirty minute later bent over a sheet of paper -- or numerous, it usually depends on if he's feeling moody. When asked to teach a member a dance step -- because he wasn't just a good rapper, he was also an amazing dancer, one of the best alongside Yunho -- he was always giving his 1000%, not giving up until he was sure the step was executed perfectly. In short, he was determined to keep going on, no matter what, when or where.

You, on the other hand, were a bit more lenient on yourself -- you would not say idle. You weren't use to forge ahead and do everything in your capacity to achieve something. If you couldn't it, you would just blame yourself for being lazy, without actually doing anything to kill that laziness. You were an 'oh, too bad' type of person.

One moment of your shared life that could be uses to compare and contrast you and your boyfriend was a memory of a particular day -- you'd rather call that 'the memory of the meal' rather than 'the day I've been scolded like a child by my boyfriend'. It was your lunch break and you were hungry and tired, yet, out of laziness, you refused to go to the nearest store to buy yourself something to eat. There was also a day when you decided to simply let a salad bowl on the table because you couldn't fit it in the cupboard underneath your sink.

Now, Mingi was hellbent on teaching what perseverance is. To do things and actually finish them, to go extra length to get what you want. And he wanted to teach it to you in a pretty, sweet, and painful way.

"Mingi, 'won't fit..."

"Come on Princess, you can take it."

You open your eyes and tried to get a glimpse at your big, tall boyfriend, standing in all his glory between your legs. He was frowning, sweat dripping down his forehead and hair, his eyes looking down at your private parts. He glanced at you before turning his gaze back to your dripping cunt, stretched around the tip of his fat cock.

"Told you I would teach you to never give up." he said, bending over to kiss you on the cheek, before leaning back down. "A bit more. Close your eyes and breath."

You hastily nodded, the feeling of his thumb stroking your hip doing a good job helping you get your mind off the feeling of being ripped apart by your boyfriend's dick. He wasn't even half in, and yet you could still feel every inches of him gliding and pushing against your gummy walls. The tip was stroking everywhere and nowhere at the same time, opening your pussy up for the rest of his length.

"You're wet baby." he said in an almost mocking tone, watching your cum splash from your vagina -- from the previous two orgasms he gave you. He definitely know how to put his rap skills to use. He closed his eyes and pushed deeper, choosing to ignore your whines as they weren't alarming -- he was pleased to find out that you were quite vocal in bed.

Eventually, he managed to fit it all in you, and when pushing the last bit of him inside, he closed his eyes, which rolled to the back of his head which was thrown back in pure pleasure. "Yeah, good girl..."

He looked down at your face, torn between smiling and frowning at the sight of your eyelashes, beaded with unshed tears. You were such a sight. He almost felt bad, but then remember that he was doing this for your own good.

As soon as he thrusted out of you, only to come back forth, this time more easily, your grip on the sheets tighten, eyes rolling back to your skull. You whimpered and took fast and short breath, remembering your boyfriend of a small puppy who had a run in the forest.

"Ah- Doin' so good for me."

It didn't take you a long time to find pleasure in his torture, skin blushing and warm walls tightening around him. Just as you were about to finally let go and probably have one of the best orgasm of your life, Mingi, deep in you, stilled. You opened your eyes abruptly, panicked and despaired at the feeling of your orgasm failing away.

"Mingi~!"

He did not move one inch, eyes glued to what appeared to be your belly. You looked down to see what was interesting to the point of ruining your orgasm -- and make him stop, it was quite unusual for him to interrupt your private sessions like that, he wasn't a big fan of teasing and edging.

But even before seeing it, you felt it. Felt the way his big and clammy hands pressed on your stomach, making you feel him even more. You didn't not even know it was possible, but the feeling of his dick going in and out was real, and increased by a thousand. No wander he had trouble penetrating you, there wasn't enough space, even he was having trouble moving in and out of your cunt.

"Oh my-" he groaned, fastening his pace, taking his hand off your belly to properly look at the bulge on your stomach. And he came, on the spot.

You felt his hot and sticky sperm flood your womb, more and more, even when you thought that you milked him dry. He was shooting ropes after ropes of sperm and you felt like drowning in it. You felt full, felt the same feeling as when you drink too much water.

You both watched your lower belly inflate, taking an abnormal and yet pornographic size. The mere sight made you cum.

Needless to say that you were a bit more persistent in your actions.

#ateez smut #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #ateez x reader #mingi smut #mingi hard hours #mingi hard thoughts #mingi x reader #kpop hard hours #> my kinktober ! (as if i needed one to write nasty stuffs side eyes) < #kinktober 2023 #yes im late

[clusterbuck]

lights will guide you home

6x11 coda (buck’s version | eddie’s version)

buck barely waits for his parents’ uber to drive away before he gets into his jeep and drives to eddie’s.

it’s been three days since he got out of the hospital. three days since his parents walked into his loft as if they belonged there.

two days since buck realised they didn’t.

once the euphoria of his survival faded, they’d gone back to being puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit. pieces that look like they’re part of the same picture, until you put them all together and realise none of the lines connect.

buck knows his parents are trying, but—

it’s easier, he thinks, when they try from the other side of the country.

it’s been three days since he got out of the hospital and the doctors told him he’ll make a full recovery, as long as he rests enough to let his heart and lungs heal. and he’s been following orders, he really has, but he’s never breathed as easy as when he pulls up to the curb outside of eddie’s house.

buck walks up to the door, and he’s about to turn the handle and let himself in when something stops him.

he knocks on the door instead.

eddie opens in moments, the confusion on his face turning into a grin when he sees buck. there’s a beat, and then they fall into each other. buck’s not sure who moves first, just that eddie’s arm are strong around him and when he sags agains eddie’s chest, eddie holds him up.

“i thought your parents were still in town?” eddie says when they’ve moved inside. he’s in the kitchen, pouring cups of coffee, and buck sprawls across eddie’s couch.

“just left,” buck calls back. “not a moment too soon.”

“that bad?” eddie asks as he walks into the living room, one eyebrow raised, and hands buck a cup of coffee.

buck takes a sip as he thinks about it. “not… bad,” he finally says. “just weird. it’s like they’re trying to pretend the last thirty years didn’t happen.”

eddie just nods, both hands wrapped around his cup. the silence is comfortable, and buck feels it settle into his bones. he could live forever in moments like this, he thinks.

“my, uh. my mom bought me a couch,” buck eventually says.

eddie huffs a laugh. “a couch?”

“yeah, she said the chair wasn’t enough.” buck wrinkles his nose. “it’s uncomfortable.”

“is that why you look like you’re about to merge with mine?” eddie asks, gesturing at buck with his coffee cup.

“you have a good couch,” buck shrugs.

“well,” eddie says, with an amused smile. “you’re welcome to it anytime.”

buck hums into his coffee.

“so,” eddie says after a moment. “coma dream, huh?”

buck bursts out laughing. “that’s subtle.”

“hey,” eddie says, holding his hands up. “i don’t know how you’re supposed to subtly segue to a coma dream.”

“i suppose that’s fair,” buck says. “doesn’t really come up much.” he takes a breath. “i don’t know, i mean—it was weird. if kind of felt like one of those horror movie things where everything looks perfect on the surface, and then—”

“your subconscious is a horror movie?” eddie asks, and buck lobs a throw cushion at him. eddie acts indignant, but buck knows his coffee cup was already empty. it was never going to make a mess.

“more like… my subconscious was showing me a horror movie,” buck says. “to make me understand.”

“d’you think it worked?” eddie asks.

buck shrugs. “i’m here, aren’t i? i came back. i didn’t stay.”

eddie’s quiet for a moment, fiddling with the handle of his empty mug. “you weren’t tempted?” he finally asks. “to stay with—chimney said something about daniel—”

“no,” buck says, and he doesn’t hesitate. “i wasn’t tempted. it wasn’t—i wanted to come home.”

#911fic #buddie #buddie fic #911 6x11 #shush emma #emma writes #hehehe shoutout to meetings i had to be in but didn’t have to listen to #911 spoilers

[lapis-lights]

Chapter 03 | Kiss the Skin From My Lips

'Falling From Grace' Series

[Vendetta!Leon Kennedy x Reader]

Song Title: Call Me What You Like by Lovejoy

Content Warnings: NSFW (18+ ONLY), Unprotected p in v, Porn with feelings, Creampie, Some dirty taking but nothing too intense, The lovers in enemies to lovers

Word Count: 14.1k

Author's Notes: Chapter three of the Falling From Grace series! Sooooo....this is really my first time attempting a smut scene so criticism would be really appreciated if you have any! Otherwise, I hope you guys like this chapter :)

Posts are scheduled for 8 a.m. EST every day until the series is complete!

Series Masterlist

Ao3

Summary: As tensions ride high between you and Leon, you execute your first infiltration mission of the J.I.E. lab. What you find inside is more than just a few simple monsters, but rather a life or death situation and an experience that leaves you and Leon absolutely breathless.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

And you can kiss the skin from my lips if it makes you feel good... I'm not sure if you want it; I'm not sure if you need me too.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

When you wake up, there's a deep ache in your bones and you think sourly of how you're getting on in your years. 

At this point, don't people start planning their retirement homes or something? You've led anything but a normal life so really, you wouldn't know, but from what you've heard, it's gotta be something along those lines. When did your twenties end and your thirties begin?

Jesus Christ, you've let yourself go.

You start your morning routine, ignoring Leon who's still happily snoring away, and taking a trip down to the first floor to the gym room. There's some flimsy equipment down there and it's definitely not the high quality stuff you get at actual gyms or at the J.I.E.'s professional training programs, but you'll have to make do for now. 

You start with simple stretches to warm up as you ponder everything that has happened last night. 

You think about the way Ada had looked and by proxy, Leon. He's never mentioned her to you ever so you suspect there must be a reason for that. Maybe he wanted to protect her from you in case you decided to go on a rampage or something, but that didn’t make sense either. Was Leon into the type of woman that could fend for herself or did he just care if she was a looker or not?

If that’s the case, you were definitely crossed off the list. The scar tissue bears a heavy burden. 

You lose yourself in the familiar burn of exercise and it feels oddly good to hurt in the ways that tell you your efforts weren’t going to waste. Eventually, this moment of peace will come to an end just like all good things, but right now, you stay in the intensity of your workout. You don’t even notice the door opening.

It’s a guy you haven’t seen before, clean shaven and muscular. You can tell he keeps himself fit but whether it’s for work or just for show, you don’t know. He doesn’t look bad at all with dark doe eyes and light brown hair that sweeps across his forehead enticingly. 

“I didn’t know pretty girls vacationed here,” he says and you rip your eyes away from the floor to meet his. What little respect you had deluded yourself into making for him bleeds away and in a split decision, you decide to play with him just a little.

“And I didn’t know good-looking men frequented these parts,” you fire back, batting eyelashes and giving him the most innocent look you can muster. “No need to flatter. I’m sure you could pull someone better than lil’ old me.”

“Don’t put yourself down so fast, babe,” he snorts, heading for the weights and you mentally roll your eyes as you see his intent to try and impress you with reps. 

However, you keep up the disguise and take a seat on a nearby medicine ball while watching him carefully. “I’m not putting myself down–it’s the truth.”

He doesn’t answer but he does make sure to put extra emphasis on choosing a fairly heavy hand weight and beginning to rep without any warm up. Silently, you know he’ll pull a muscle eventually and all for a woman he’ll likely never see in his life again. Womanizers like him never made much sense to you, but you suppose human instincts can make people irrational at the best of times.

“So you got a boyfriend?” he asks and you hum.

Would you? Should you?

“Nobody you need to worry yourself over,” you decide on answering, which wasn’t much far from the truth itself in all honesty. “Why do you want to know?”

“I want to know if there’s anybody keeping me from taking you out.”

“You’re at a hotel,” you scoff. “Do you have anybody waiting for you back in your room?”

“Nobody you need to worry yourself over,” he grins.

So he did come here with someone. How disgusting. You’re not the most morally correct person in the world, but even you understand the basic agreement of being in a relationship, and furthermore, you kow the importance put on the concept of loyalty. Well…you know how it’s supposed to be.

“Right,” you sigh, “and what are you proposing we do?”

His eyes flash suggestively and if you had the energy, you’d projectile vomit. “I’d take you out for a real nice dinner then bring you back to mine so we could-”

He shuts up when the door flies open and Leon strides in so confidently you forget that he’s supposed to be back at the suite stuck in dreamland. However, the stormy glance he gives you is nothing compared to the downright murderous glare he directs at the guy you hadn’t bothered to get the name of.

"Woah, man," the guy says, blissfully unaware. "You must be riled up for a serious workout."

"No," Leon answers, voice clipped and tight in a way you've never heard him before. "I was just looking for my wife who happened to get a headstart in her day without me."

The guy's face pales when he motions to you and you shrug non committedly before getting up and opening the door that leads out. Leon is hot on your heels as you make your way out and it's not long before he's gripping your wrist and pulling you back to stop your stride.

"Mind telling me what the fuck that was?" He demands, keeping his voice just quiet enough to not disturb the other residents.

"I was having fun," you hum, "since you're providing no entertainment for me."

"You can't just go wandering off where I can't see you."

"I'm not a child."

“Of course you’re not, but you’re practically a walking target for any undercover agent,” he sighs as you wrench your hand from his grasp and scowl. “You scared me is all.”

The sentiment might’ve been sweeter if your brain didn’t remind you of his latenight amorous meeting with Ada and it sours your whole mood even further. Long gone is that steadily growin soft spot and it only gets replaced by stone cold bitterness. Had the world always been this dark?

You spin on your heel and ignore the confused sound Leon makes as he follows closely like he’s afraid he’ll lose you again.

“You’re losing your edge, Kennedy,” you sniff dismissively.

“What?”

“Isn't this all some complex business partnership to you?” The walk to the room seems to drag on longer than you like and the nagging feeling of his eyes on you makes you want to scream, cry, and break all at once.

“Where the hell did you get that idea from?” he asks as if this whole thing would be any different than past encounters.

You ignore him, approaching the suite and unlocking the door with your keycard and pushing through roughly, not waiting for any protest from Leon. Your brain flies with so many unanswered questions and they’re so loud that you want to fall to your knees and beg them to stop.

Unable to take it anymore, you whirl around and he almost runs into you from the abrupt halt.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?!” You demand, bordering on a plea but he doesn’t need to know how deep the desperation went. 

His dark eyebrows knit in confusion. “Like what?”

“Like–” you struggle to form a coherent line of thought, “–with those eyes.”

You know you don’t make much sense but you can see it register in his expression, dusty blue darkening into electric and the atmosphere rapidly shifts from one emotion to another. He’s so close now, less than an arm's reach away, and he looks at you from beneath his lashes in a way that’s enough to drive you to insanity.

Why was he doing this? How was he doing this? How was Leon of all people drawing you in deep enough to get under your skin? How could he command the tension between you like it was a simple race down a one-way street and simultaneously provide no context behind his motives?

Why did Ada come by last night and how did she know who he was? How did she know you?

These questions sprout one after another like those depressing time loop videos of flowering plants. He answers none of them and it’s only all the more infuriating.

“Leon,” you swallow harshly and stand your ground. “What do you want from me?”

The question is left hanging in the air, an unoccupied noose. It’s intimidating, dread on your shoulders like a heavy burden as you wait for an answer that never comes. Leon just looks at you like he was waiting for you to come to some revelation and answer the question for yourself but no such reason comes forth.

Ridiculous. 

He does nothing, and his nonchalant exterior only makes you more infuriated and frustrated with the sensation of talking to the equivalent of a brick wall. Instead, Leon’s eyes flick around your face as if he was soaking every detail, absorbing as much as he could. You watch him warily like a hawk, wondering just how much longer the two of you could dance around this issue of unspoken feeling and silent motive.

Then, his eyes travel down to your mouth in a way you would’ve missed if you blinked. Your lips part as his tongue darts out to wet his own, the muscle gliding along his skin and leaving a light sheen of saliva behind.

The movement is miniscule but addicting all the same, and you’re almost knocked breathless with the urge to pull him close just to get his hands on your body. You want to kiss him so badly until his lips swell with the imprint of yours and his passion matches to suit your own. You want the taste of that spearmint gum he always carries around and the aura of alcohol that always stays with him no matter where he goes. 

Craving flares in your stomach as tears well in your eyes, confused and angry as to why this was happening now.

Did Leon know how much he was torturing you? Was he just pupeteering you around just to leave you cold and alone like your family, friends, and past lovers did? You wouldn’t be able to handle that–you can feel it. That would be your breaking point, your hamartia. 

Your death.

It takes all of your strength to pull away from him and his hypnotic spell though you’re not sure if he even had an inkling of the self-torment you’re undergoing with this new revelation.

He doesn’t stop you as you escape onto the balcony, slamming the sliding door closed, and gulping in the oxygen like you held your head underwater too long.

An ugly sob rips from your throat and self-loathing burns bright and hot in your gut. The heat is almost too much to handle as you hate yourself for allowing yourself to cry like this over something so miniscule and especially because of something Leon had done. He doesn’t even have the audacity to be sorry.

Still, emotions are nothing new even if your understanding of love is so warped beyond repair. You’re stronger than this. You’re better. You have to be.

Your knees give out and you have no choice but to fall onto one of the patio chairs and let the numbness spread through your body. The tears begin drying tracks on your cheeks as new ones follow the path of the old, but you don’t have the heart or energy to wipe them away.

What were your feelings about Leon truly? It’s obvious you don’t hate him as much as you had before and the thought of him dying now scares you more than ever. There’s still some old hate there, just behind your ribcage just waiting to explode outward again, but dulled by an entirely new portion of your brain. 

The portion of your brain that wants to kiss him. The one that wants Leon to take you out on dates and make jokes as your husband and admire him under the golden lighting of the sun. The one that charges into your old self with a fierce snarl and starts a battle for your wishes and dreams. 

Your head hits the back of the chair and you screw your eyes shut, trying to make sense of the whole entire thing. 

Nothing but the image of that desolate and dead landscape from your dream comes to mind. You can still hear the rolling thunder and cracking lightning as if it had happened right in front of your eyes. You can still feel the sticky blood on your hands and the metallic scent permeating the air as lifeless eyes had stared up at you.

Devoid of passion. Devoid of anything.

Is that what you wanted–what you wished for? Is that your happy ending? 

Somehow–for some inexplicable and unknown reason–you don't think so.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Guns weigh heavy in your palms, but in a cruel twist of fate, it also means home.

The power to kill someone lying in a variety of sizes are the only way to survive in your profession. That much is obvious. You've been through the same song and dance a million times over and then some–so this? This is nothing new. 

Tensions have been high in the suite as you do your level best to avoid Leon while confined to such a small space with him. Over the past couple of days, your interactions have lasted with only a few clipped words and making plans to infiltrate the lab you'd found in the clothing department dressing room. Today was the day you'd decided to put your plans into action despite how poorly they've been communicated.

You know for tag team missions like this, communication is vital. However, you can't bring yourself to care. Being dealt potential death seems much better than having to face Leon and grapple with the warring thoughts tugging between wanting to end him and wanting more with him. He doesn't make it any easier.

He's not bitter. The exterior he puts up paints him as a grumpy middle-aged man whose experiences have only made him all the more angry at the world. You know him better than that, though. That's just how he is naturally, and if he was anything but that, you would know best how to spot the signs. However, this new attitude of his is something you’ve never encountered before so it’s hard to pinpoint just exactly what state of mind he was in.

Over the course of just a couple days, you find yourself struggling to hold on to that composure you worked so hard to craft. Leon leaves you alone and allows you to have your space, but even then, it takes all of your willpower just to not stare openly. 

You indulge yourself late at night when his breathing deepens and your thoughts are just between you and whatever potential god there was. There were nights where your thoughts run rampant and take whatever chance you allow to admire him. You wish that there was something more between you emotionally and nothing physically. You want that sensation of his body on yours and what that might entail, and you want him deeper than you ever have before.

Shamefully, you wonder if he would burn just as deliciously as you imagined or if it would be more just because it's Leon. Would that controlled blaze turn into a wild forest fire under his advances? Would he steal your breath away roughly or would he take his unrelenting time to savor you all? Would he aim to watch tears roll down your cheeks or would he kiss them all away with whispers of sweet nothings?

Your enemy, putting you at the mercy of his hands and body, was a thought you kept sealed away tightly. Nobody could ever know about it.

When the morning came, you had checked your back and was delighted upon knowing that the wound had healed thanks to the full effect of Leon's questionable herbs. You'd put on your tactical gear over it, stretching to get the blood flowing and downing a coffee for good measure. 

While he's in the bathroom, you check over your weapons once more and make sure all of your guns are loaded and stocked. Running out of ammo has been the reason for near-death multiple times so it’s especially crucial that you don’t make that mistake today.

Alone with your thoughts, you finally grapple with what you’re trying to do today.

For so many years, the J.I.E. had silenced you and molded your mind and body into a perfect little war soldier under the pretenses that you were making the world a better place. You’d been a fool, blind to the millions of deaths that were paying for the price of a few lives until that veil was snatched away and revealed the horrors of humanity to you.

Your eyes shut as you remember the chains, rubbing your wrists raw as you were forced into discipline. The memory of cold metal kissing your skin before breaking through it, promising worse if you hadn’t obeyed was fresh as a morning bloom in your head. Your own screams had sounded like they were from someone else, leaving your throat torn and your vocal cords frayed. 

Leon would never know the extent of the pain you had gone through, even if he’s the only one that knew the basics. You were afraid of what he would think of that–of you.

He emerges finally ready and you stare wordlessly at him. A silent understanding passes between you and the two of you jump into action. 

The car ride there is a blur. Despite having walked before on your small outing when you first got here, you'd figured it would be much easier to have a getaway vehicle ready and parked a couple blocks away just in case. The store opened early, and just in time for you to sneak in inconspicuously.

Avoiding employees was easy, especially after you had swiped a keycard from the manager’s stand upon finding it carelessly abandoned. 

The dressing rooms were easy enough to get into and you led Leon into the one that you had changed in while you tried on that pretty little dress he recommended. It’s only been a few days but that night feels like it was so long ago, especially with how many cycles of emotions you’ve been subjected to since then. 

Upon removing the middle panel, holding the keycard up to the gray block causes a loud click to sound out that notifies the door has been unlocked. Uneasily, you breathe in deeply and push in. 

The interior is something you’re familiar with since it took on a similar appearance to that of the lab you’d been assigned to. However, the layout is foreign so it’s a toss in the air as to where anything could possibly be. The walls are lined with thick cords that are warm to the touch and the vibration of the lab's electricity current hums under your feet. You take out your handgun, keeping your finger off the trigger but staying alert all the same. 

Leon fires off a shot and you whirl around just in time to see a camera falling to the ground brokenly. 

The initial entrance is a straight shot but eventually you reach a hub of sorts where there are multiple tunnels branching off into different directions. Above them are signs that list the area of interest that each one led down to, ranging from dormitories to experimentations. The offices were the most dangerous to try and breach since multiple people working meant a bigger crowd to try and disperse if you got caught, though you're convinced that this place must be overrun like an ant colony.

"Where do we go from here?" Leon asks and your stomach flips. 

You haven't heard him speak since your fallout a few days ago so it's an emotional whiplash being reminded of what exactly the most miniscule things about him do to you. Things that shouldn't elicit such reactions, making your skin spark with invisible electricity and putting your brain on high alert when he so much as breathes heavier.

"Anywhere we go is gonna be crawling with workers," you answer, keeping your composure. "They're usually confined to their assigned station for the whole day before being let off to go home. We should try and go to one that has the least amount of people or the biggest advantage for us."

"Where do you propose that might be?"

You look up at the labels above the tunnels before settling on one. "The observation deck. They use it to record the progress of their bioweapons and monitor any potential dangers they might pose so they're on a tight schedule. We might be able to find something about what they're doing there."

He nods and together, you make your way through the tunnel, shooting down any more security cameras you see and testing for any potential defense mechanisms they might have installed. It's eerily quiet besides the atmospheric noises and suspicion rises in your mind as you wonder why you haven't seen anybody thus far in your journey. You'd expected a flood of scientists or at least one assassination attempt as soon as you stepped inside, but maybe this wasn't as uptight as the lab you were at.

The observation deck was a series of catwalks crossing over a large arena, presumably where they let their bioweapons roam free while they stayed a safe height away from it. From where you entered, it happens to be in the 4th level, though the platforms stretch to multiple stories above your head. It looked almost similar to the pictures of the lab beneath the white house that Wilson had hidden away with the whole incident with Jason, though this one lacked any chemical experiments in the middle. 

“Let’s go,” you whisper, pointing up to a space encased in glass. “They might have reports we can get into over there.”

Just as you go to begin walking, the static cracking of a speaker jumping to life immediately halts your steps. Leon whips around, pushing his back to yours as you defensively cover each other with your guns at the ready. There’s no telling where the speaker might be or where it was located, but the fact that it was active at all is a problem.

Then, the crackling dissipates and the voie comes through, muffled by the poor quality of a microphone.

“So you’ve finally made it,” the voice purrs through the intercom. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Neither you nor Leon answer, swiveling around and searching for any oddities while keeping your wits as the speaker crackles again and clears.

“Unfortunately, we don’t appreciate outsiders much, Agent (L/n). You should know that more than anybody.”

You grit your teeth, trying not to let their words get underneath your skin. 

“Ah, well. You were a valuable asset to us. It’s so unfortunate we’ll have to do some clean-up, so to speak.” 

Beneath you, something crashes against the wall with a violent boom and the dark growl of something massive reverberates through the whole entire room. A sick sort of dread grows as you look down before glancing back at Leon who’s sharing the same thought process as you are. It’s not that hard to deduce what would happen next, and silently, you pray to whatever’s out there that you would make it out of this thing alive. 

“You really need to work on your speeches, pal,” Leon snaps and you would’ve laughed if you weren’t stuck in such a precarious and unpredictable situation. 

“And you need to work on your manners, Mr. Kennedy,” the voice cackles, all ugly and sounding like they were hacking up a lung. “You’ll be regretting those words when you’re dead. Entertain the animal for me, will you?”

The speaker clicks off just as a metal door below flies off its hinges and nearly blows through the wall of the arena below. You break from the formation you and Leon had set up to look down at what you’re up against and your eyes widen with horror. It’s got multiple appendages whipping out from every limb, taking on the sick appearance of some mutated spider. Multiple eyes glow yellow as it glances around before zeroing in on you above it.

“Leon,” you mumble, backing up and he only gets a sparse good look at what you're up against before he’s grabbing your wrist and sprinting down the catwalk. 

The beast screeches upon seeing its target on the move and one of those long arms shoots upward to latch onto the railing of the walkway. You just barely make it onto safe ground before it’s yanked away and the whole path crashes to the ground. Panic curls in your chest as you remember what had happened the last time you had faced off a bioweapon, and you start running after Leon once you gain your bearings.

All along the sides are countless offices that hold large filing cabinets, though they hardly matter in this chase scene. The monster hisses, spitting something before launching upward and beginning to climb the walls rapidly towards you. You’re able to deter it with a couple well-aimed shots to its head but, it only makes it angrier as well.

Once it’s up, your stomach jumps into your throat upon seeing that the thing is almost twice as tall as you are. It lumbers toward you with a hiss as it secretes acid that burns into the ground. Leon stops in front of you, pulling out a rifle and pressing the scope to his eye. You’re confused as to what his approach is until he shoots and the monster reels back in pain with a scream. When you look, you see that he’s hit one of the multiple grotesque eyeballs that embed along the legs of the mutated spider. It’s not hard to see where Leon was going with this so you take out your own rifle to join him.

Gunshots ring in your ears as you and Leon rain down hellfire, backing away every so often to put distance between you and the bioweapon. 

Leon runs up a flight of stairs before shoving himself into a crevice that's only large enough to fit one. You stumble up after him and turn onto another catwalk, looking back and almost vomiting. The ugly monster's wounds are leaking pus that chews holes into the ground it walks on, eyes flicking wildly before finding you–entirely missing Leon–and heading frantically in your direction.

Of fucking course they made all of its bodily fluids acidic. What else would you expect?

You switch out your rifle for a magnum and shoot around Leon as he brings up the rear. He works on picking off the rest of the leg eyeballs while you set to getting the fucker right in between it's menacing yellow eyes. The recoil is almost unfamiliar, but you swiftly get back into the rhythm of handling the weapon, walking back before reaching to your tactical utility belt and yanking off an incendiary grenade. 

You pull the pin, throw it, and shield your eyes from the burst of flames that erupt and start licking along the spider's body. It shrieks so ungodly loud that you would've almost clapped your hands around your ears if you didn't remember where you were and what your goal was. You reload your magnum as quickly and accurately as you can manage, and keep shooting. Leon sprints out, using the weakened legs as leverage to swing himself onto its back and start stabbing it with the combat knife he'd been hiding. 

He's a genius and lunatic all at once.

You suppose this must be nothing new to him since Leon's faced who knows how many bioweapons at this point, but this is your first time seeing it up close and personal. He fights like it's second nature–like he's simply just breathing. It's mesmerizing to watch, but the moment is over when he gets thrown off into your direction and lands heavily in front of you directly onto his arm with a pained grunt.

You wince, hoping that it hasn't been broken or dislocated, reaching out and hauling him to his feet when he accepts your hand. Together, you keep shooting as Leon pulls the pin on a hand grenade and throws it at the spider's feet. You halt, palms covering your ears as it flashes multiple times then explodes, taking the mutated monster down with it. 

Organs go flying everywhere and you duck to avoid the majority splatter of the acidic blood. The explosion causes a creak and only the middle portion of the catwalk sinks before crumbling down into the wreckage already created by the first ruined walkway. 

Leon stands up, panting heavily as he looks down into the mess below that has sparked a fire and was burning merrily as if you hadn't just killed a man-made monster. Speaking of which, whose body had joined the metal below and had speared onto the sharp pieces that jutted out like a homemade spike pitfall trap. 

He turns to you, going to open his mouth to say something but is rapidly silenced by a creaking groan and then he shouts in panic when the ground beneath his feet gives way. You gasp, lunging forward and grabbing his hand on instinct as the portion of the walkway falls into the void below and he's left dangling precariously from a fatal height with only you to hold onto. 

He glances down then back up at you, desperation in his eyes as you both come to the same realization and conclusion. 

You could kill him right now.

All you had to do was let go and it would all be over as if this never happened. He would be out of your hair and all that torment he subjected you to would dissipate like cotton candy subjected to water. This would all end if you would just take the chance to drop him into that dangerous trap where you would never have to see him again, never have to worry about him again. You could drop him and turn away without a second glance to see if he survived or not.

Leon’s eyes flash and you know exactly what it is despite never seeing it before. It’s pure unadulterated fear, with his life hanging in the balance of someone who had expressed distaste for him a healthy amount of times and whose certainly not favorable towards him in any way at the moment. Even if he saved your life, were you so willing to give up this once-in-a-lifetime chance?

You have the high ground now.

You determine his fate.

You could end it all right now by just yanking your hand away and taking back everything you had done to improve your relationship with him. 

Your heart thuds marathons in your ears as all your muscles twitch and have a war in your mind. The thoughts curl and shriek around each other, fighting for what they believed the right thing to do was and it felt like the whole world was watching you for some sort of revolutionary choice.

You wince, knowing what your decision is.

Hauling Leon up, your legs burn as you lift his weight from the ledge and onto safe ground, rolling away when he finally lands on the stable ground that the catwalk had been attached to. Your lungs beg for air and you pant, faintly registering what just happened as you ride out that high of adrenaline. Leon must be out of it if he hasn't made a sarcastic quip about almost dying.

"We need to get to safety," you say, shakily getting to your feet and almost stumbling back down from the shock factor.

He only nods and you reach out to help him up. Even though you didn’t drop him to his untimely death, he looks at you warily before accepting the offer, almost falling to his knees again before you shoot forward and catch him. His body heat radiates through your skin and your cheeks set ablaze at the proximity even as you sling one of his arms around your shoulders and support some of his weight as you begin walking.

“There’s a safe room I saw on the way while we were running,” you mumble, avoiding making any sort of eye contact. “We can go over there and make sure you’re not hurt.”

“What about you?” He rasps and it leaves you wondering why he’s so adamant about the state of your health when he’s just looked death between the eyes.

You laugh breathlessly, almost sarcastically if you weren’t still riding the high of that fading adrenaline. “Don’t worry about me.”

You and Leon make your way to one of the cubicles, and you set him down carefully on the office chair that he manages to unceremoniously slump into. It’s clear that his almost-death is impacting him, though you now well that this isn’t the first time he’s had a touch of the afterlife. It really did make you wonder what about this time made it any different. 

While he squeezes his eyes shut and massages the shoulder he’d landed on, you reach into your bag and pull out a first aid spray for him to use when he’s ready before standing and taking in your environment. The computer is innocently waiting on the stand with the J.I.E. logo set as the wallpaper, and there’s a filing cabinet that you try to open. It doesn’t give way and you mumble out a curse under your breath as you start poking around the desk drawers for a possible key.

Leo pops the top off the spray bottle and starts healing his wounds while you flip through various pages inside. Most of them are unhelpful and just detailing things you already knew until you tumble on a report for the spider you had just killed.

You put it into a manila folder that you put in your bag, rummaging around more until you find a hidden compartment that holds the key to the file cabinet. Upon opening the locked drawer, you find reports on agents–including your own–and details on the imports and exports the company had been engaging in. 

Then, you hit the jackpot.

First and foremost was a folder of maps that laid out every level and room there was in the entirety of the lab. Then, there was a large binder that recorded every experiment the J.I.E. had engaged with the creation of their bioweapons, even detailing a new virus that they were meddling with. You flip through, finding monster after monster that has failed and succeeded. For now, this would be enough until you could figure out a plan using the map and going over the particulars of the experiments.

“We should go now,” you decide. “This is more than enough to figure out where we’re going and what we’re up against.”

Silence.

The lack of response causes you to turn around and peer questioningly at Leon who just nods mindlessly and gets up. He doesn’t meet your eyes and this attitude only makes you all the more confused. What had gotten into him?

Nonetheless, he follows as you make your way to an elevator that you go up in to return to the main hub that you had entered through. You suppose that nobody had watched you through the cameras and just automatically assumed you were being taken care of by the spider bioweapon since it's still suspiciously dead silent. 

You still stay alert, and if you hadn't been so on edge, Leon would've walked right into the wire trap that had been meticulously strung across the tunnel. You pull him back sharply without thinking, fingers lacing with his as you yank.

He grunts as you pull away, going to carefully disarm it, figuring this was their way of alarming anybody you made it out alive. The explosion surely would have let someone know that there were two unauthorized people still running around, so it was good you had seen the thin wire and the two dark devices flashing red lights. Then again, you'd expected Leon to be just as attentive as you were to your surroundings. 

Something was bothering him. Seeing him like this wasn't helping you much either, dying to know just what had him so distracted. 

The two of you finally make it to the exit carefully pushing outward into the dressing room whose door had been locked when the two of you entered to prevent anybody seeing things they shouldn't be. A quick pack of wet wipes is enough to make yourselves look decent enough to not look like you’d been playing around in dirt and gunpowder, and you make plans to shower once you got back to the hotel.

All throughout your way back, Leon still stays infuriatingly silent from the lab to the suite, and the question as to why teases the tip of your tongue. 

You get inside, let him know you're going to run yourself a bath, and retreat to the restroom as you sigh out with a whimper almost escaping in the process. In the solitude of your own thoughts, you finally let yourself feel that pain and anguish and confusion that you always hold back in the presence of Leon.

Fighting didn’t help at all. If anything, it only made it all the worse feeling guilt or something akin to it.

Would he ever tell you about Ada or was that just something you would have to figure out for yourself? Could you ever be closer to him knowing that he had said you meant nothing to him? It must be true if he had said it without expecting you to hear, and somehow, that sentiment causes a stabbing pang in your chest. It’s a wonderful and horrible thing–wanting someone so badly but knowing they would never want you back.

It’s a bittersweet taste on your tongue with a pungent aftertaste stinging your tastebuds, dooming yourself in the process.

Emotions were always so easy to stomp down and kill before. What about this whole ordeal could possibly make this any different?

Some dark part of your mind whispers that you know. You know what this provocative emotion is that makes your head spin and act irrationally, but you’d die before ever admitting it out loud. This may as well be worse than a death penalty–or rather, it is your death penalty. 

The sound of rushing water acts as a soothing white noise until the tub is full and submerging yourself in the warm water causes a sigh of relief to fly past your lips in a gentle exhale. You take your time, washing your hair and massaging fingers into your scalp to help focus on releasing all of that tension that has built up over the past few days. The water turns gray from all that built up grime and dust and the soapy suds merely adds to the discoloration once you actually start scrubbing.

Once you’re done, you feel more human, more in control. The thoughts have quieted, and you finally start to feel like you can get a grasp on yourself again. You think you’re ready to see Leon and just simply resign to the watching the city on the balcony or going to sleep early like the past few days have allowed you. You can live with this. You can do it.

Once this is all said and done, you can part ways. You can forget him.

You could…

You have to. Right?

You step out, steam chasing after you as if beckoning you back into its warm embrace and you find Leon staring out the window mindlessly. You get hit with deja vu as it reminds you of the first morning you’d gotten here and watched the sunrise together. That was when you were nothing more than unlikely but eager allies. Now? You don’t know what you are. 

You don’t want to be the one that wants him while he just wants the entertainment. You’re smarter than that.

“Hey,” you call out and he turns slightly, acknowledging you. The atmosphere turns slightly awkward when he provides no verbal answer. “I’m just going to go sit outside for a bit since I guess you want to be alone right now. If you need me, I’ll be-”

"Stop."

His command makes the words fade from your tongue and you swallow harshly. The first words he’s spoken to you since asking how you were at the lab are spoken roughly, making your heart drop into your stomach. When had you started listening to him when he ordered you around? You weren't one of his rookies or agents on his team, but right now, you were completely and totally at the mercy of whatever he might do.

"Why did you save me?" He asks tightly, turning around and finally getting a good look at you in an oversized t-shirt with pajama shorts barely peeking out from underneath the hem. His eyes wander and he swallows harshly. "You could have killed me–ended this feud and finally been the hero of this whole story. Why did you do it?"

You don't have to think about the answer, but it's shameful. After giving him the cold shoulder upon hearing him with Ada and sealing your emotions in a tight little glass bottle, they come spilling out now for Leon to pick through and judge. 

"I don't want you to die," you whisper, taking a step back, afraid of whatever he might say. 

He moves toward you at an excruciatingly slow pace, expression unreadable and more intimidating than the literal bioweapon you had survived just hours ago. You match his footfalls backward and you think this fear must be what prey feels like when death has locked eyes on it.

"I can't–We can talk about this, yeah?” You try explaining, wondering if there was any possibility you could talk your way out of this. “It doesn't matter–not really. We just…"

You're rambling now, trying to find an excuse to stop those blue eyes from piercing your soul and peeling away every layer of defense you've built up. He keeps getting closer and you're running out of room to escape to. You've never been more scared of him than in this moment–even when he almost killed you the day you met, you've never felt like this. A deer in the headlights, electricity coursing through your nerves as your brain struggles to choose between fight or flight. 

Did he know? Did he know about all those lingering gazes and words that held guilt behind them and all those emotions that you weren't supposed to be having clogging up your chest?

Your back hits a wall and you're fucked.

Leon's hand finds your waist when he's close enough, your skin rushing hot as his breath fans your face and you smell spearmint. It's addicting. He's addicting. Your heartbeat rushes in your ears, pounding anxiously as the nerves in your body light up like a Christmas tree.

When he speaks, it’s all low tones and so fucking attractive.

"Sweet girl," he murmurs, affectionately raw in a way you never would've imagined him to be. His other hand comes up, cupping your jaw delicately and all the blood rushes to your face.

He's called you many things before, and has used more than enough adjectives to convey this disdain for you. Annoying, disgusting, naive, revolting, repulsive…but never in a million years would he have called you sweet. You must be dreaming, and if you are, you never want to wake up.

"I'm actually a very indulgent creep," you wheeze out and barely conceal a whimper. "Leon, you-"

He cuts you off as his lips press onto yours and all rational thought leaves your brain in an instant. His mouth molds to yours, fingers on your waist mindlessly beginning to run circles as he presses heavily onto you as if this is what’s been wanting just as much as you. All you can feel is him, his hands on your body, his mouth working your own in such a sinful way that makes your head spin and your stomach do cartwheels.

You close your eyes, let yourself fall from grace, and plummet.

His tongue licks into your mouth and you moan as he presses you further into the wall as if it were possible. His grip turns almost bruising on your skin as he guides the hand that had been caressing your waist down to your thigh, prompting your leg to wrap around him. When you get the hint, he uses the momentum to haul you up and you squeak as he gets his arm underneath you with ease and stabilizes you. 

Leon laughs breathlessly, and he kisses on your neck. Your fingers thread through his brunette locks while you work on refilling your lungs with air. This small hint of joy–this humorous moment in something so tense–is what really matters. You can’t believe this is happening, but the way his touch burns is more than enough of an indicator that this is real.

He moves with you in his arms like you weigh nothing. Leon lets you down onto the hotel suite's bed gentle enough to not hurt you but still rough enough that you bounce from the buoyancy of the memory foam. Your back hits the mattress and everything seems to fall into place the way it should be.

Leon's hands are all over you, trailing from your hips to your stomach and up to your chest. The touch of his palms burns your skin like trails of heated lava pleasantly oozing along your veins. He burns so brightly but yet so so good. Leon hikes up your shirt, exposing your stomach to the cool air that blows across your burning body as his tongue pries your mouth open again. You hum in satisfaction as his wet muscle curls around yours hotly and arousal sparks in your gut as you feel slick just starting to begin pooling uncomfortably in your panties.

He pulls away, kissing the corner of your mouth as he pants, your legs still straddling around him even while you lie down. He looks so fucking pretty. 

"Cat got your tongue?" He teases and you kick him lightly in the back with your heel. 

"You wish," you retort mockingly. "You're all bark and no bite."

Leon raises an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"

You smile, something genuine and soft and so beautifully crafted just for him. "It's whatever you want it to be."

"Then let me tell you how I want it to be." His hot breaths fan across your skin and you really do feel like you're already burning as his fingers pull your shirt further and further up your torso. 

"Go ahead," you pull him closer, noses bumping together as you press a feather-light kiss to the stubble on his cheek. "I'm listening."

"I want you underneath me," he admits it like he's in a confessional, but whatever this is is far from holy. "I want to hear how you sound when I make you feel good, sweetheart." He nips at your neck, soothing the tiny burn with the flat of his tongue. "Can I do that for you? Will you let me?"

You wouldn’t just hand everything over to him on a silver platter. A little teasing never hurts, right?

"I don't know," you hum, though every instinct in you screams to submit just so he can do whatever he wants with you. "All this just for a little entertainment? You sure do go all out, Kennedy."

"Is that what you think this is?" He pulls away and you almost protest at the lack of contact until you get a good look at his expression. Something like sadness and doubt lining those electric blue eyes that you've come to stare at for hours. 

You don’t like the sudden shift in atmosphere so you shake your head in hopes of clearing those shadows away from his head. “Of course not–I’m sorry. That was a bad choice of wording on my part.”

He laughs, nervous and still lingering with some semblance of unease. “You sure know how to keep me on my toes.”

“I haven’t been this close with someone in a while,” you admit and shift your eyes to a random spot on the ceiling, trying to ignore the giddy feeling that came from him still hovering above you from between your legs. “You should know I’m not very…experienced or anything. I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizing,” he chastises, fingers tilting up your chin so he can lean upward to press a warm kiss to your forehead. “I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

You take the time to consider this, knowing that whatever was about to unfold would be something big in your relationship. It feels like there hasn’t been enough time to process your undying devotion for him or the questions that still linger behind Ada’s appearance, but you do know that this is something you can work out. This is something you want.

Still, there’s just some things you can’t let go of.

“Before I answer that,” you sigh, hating that you’re bringing down the mood with your fears. “Can I ask what Ada was doing here–what she wanted?”

Leon’s eyes take on a new emotion and his whole body tenses. You’re afraid that you’ve struck a chord he wouldn’t want to discuss and you fearfully wonder if this would sever any chance you have with him.

“You know Ada?” he asks and it’s painful when he says so. Whatever she means to him, it must not herald any good will.

“No,” you frown. “I heard you talking a few nights ago on the balcony. You…” The words don’t come off your tongue stubbornly, trying to stuff themselves back into your throat. “You said I was nobody–that I meant nothing to you. I mean, if that’s true, then what could you possibly want me for?”

The sting of it all comes rushing back in this incredibly vulnerable moment. You were never good with intense emotions nor did you have a good handle on them when they exploded outward like a volcanic eruption. It’s no surprise when the tears start threatening to fall, though you curse them and hold them back in an attempt to keep your dignity.

Leon makes a wounded noise deep from the back of his throat. 

“I was trying to protect you.”

It doesn’t make sense. “What?”

He ducks his head, and you desperately try to understand. “She’s backstabbed me more than once. I can’t count how many times Ada’s used me for her own gain, and I just–I couldn’t just let her get her hands on you that easily.”

“So…?”

“I lied,” Leon pleads, and the ice melts away from your burning heart. “You mean everything to me, (Y/n). I can’t lose you like I’ve lost everyone else.”

“Leon,” you whisper, all too vulnerable and drowning in that unnamed emotion. The answer to his questions and advances pours from your lips like a sacred waterfall, ready and yearning. “I want you. Make me feel good–I’ll let you.”

His pupils dilate and he dives back down, claiming your lips with his in a rougher kiss than the ones previously before. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair when he moves down, tugging on your shirt so that it could finally come off over your torso. The cool air blows across your hot skin, moaning when he massages the pad of his thumb around one of your nipples, and the pleasure sends your thoughts into a whirlwind. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought of this,” Leon murmurs, eyes slipping shut as if he was trying to map out and memorize your whole body.

You don’t get to ask what he means by that when he opens his mouth and licks the flat of his tongue wetly across your tit. Your head tilts back of its own accord, a strangled moan escaping in the process before you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. Heated shame rushes to your cheeks as you look down, already finding Leon gazing up at you, mesmerized.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he prompts, pulling your arm away. “Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

Why was he so persistent with the pet names? If he keeps this up, you’ll be nothing more than just putty in his hands. 

“Stop,” you whine, covering your eyes like that would change anything. “You’re gonna drive me insane if you keep saying things like that.”

“Do you not like me calling you names?”

You peek through your fingers to find him all the more attentive, trying to find what you don’t like and what you want. That love, care, and attention was something you never had–never deserved. How could you tell him that he’s giving you everything you want while not discouraging him from doing so?

“It’s not that,” you swallow shamefully. “Nobody’s ever told me that. Or called me anything, for that matter. It’s just new–I think I’m trying to figure out how to handle it all.”

His expression darkens and you think he might tease you or tell you to suck it up. Instead, Leon almost growls out, “Nobody?”

You make a noise of confirmation.

“Oh, baby.” He rests his cheek on your stomach and traces patterns on your skin. “Your last partner didn’t?”

You scoff, deciding to be vulnerable just this once. “My last partner was in highschool, honey.” The pet name feels foreign, but good nonetheless. You can understand why he seems so insistent on using them with you. “Like I said–it’s been a while.”

“Even so.” He picks up his head and shakes it, moving even further down and hooking fingers into the waistband of your shorts. “They didn’t appreciate you like you deserved then.”

Your voice cracks as you rest your head back onto the pillow and whisper, “I don’t think I did.”

Down, down, down your shorts trail along your legs, leaving you in nothing but a lacy pair of underwear and all too vulnerable emotionally and physically. You make a noise of dissatisfaction, tugging on Leon’s shirt as he was still unfairly dressed. 

He chuckles and gets the hint, leaning up to throw it off as you get to admire his body. There’s multiple scars from the tussles he’s engaged in with fighting bioweapons for a living, but one in particular catches your eye. Set proudly on his shoulder is a bullet bound that looks to be years old, all knotted and improperly healed. He must’ve not had the right care available to him when he got it. Leon sees you eyeing it, and smiles, albeit a bit sadly.

“Don’t worry about it,” he urges, falling back over you and kissing you softly, leaving a peck on your chin as he keeps going down. 

“I’ll worry about it later,” you compromise.

Leon lifts one of your legs, trailing featherlight kisses down your calves and into the inside of your thighs before swapping to the other and repeating the action. You sigh blissfully, letting that arousal build like a growing fire in your belly until you absolutely need something to quell it. You need him to do it–nobody else. 

There’s nobody else in the world you would be this exposed to. There’s nobody else you need.

“Leon,” you whine, hips gyrating as the accumulated wetness has become noticeably uncomfortable. “C’mon. I’m dying here.”

He actually laughs at that–not a chuckle or a huff of a breath that you’re so used to. A laugh, warm and genuine and painting lines across his features that you commit to memory in case you can never have this moment with him again. The possibility that this is a one-time thing is terrifying, but it gives you all the more reason to savor it.

Granting you some reprieve, he finally, finally, presses a heated kiss to your clothed clit and you cry out, hips bucking up of their own accord because you needed more than just the slight touches he was teasing you with. Leon gets his hands on you, driving your pelvis down and holding it in place as he licks a heated stripe up the outside of your panties. It's a warm, wet, and wild sensation–one that gives you a taste of Heaven without actually being there.

The feel of it is enough to drown you as you struggle to writhe beneath his restraint, head tossing back and heart fluttering to the beat of hummingbird wings. Your fingers tangle in his hair instinctively and pull, earning a delicious groan from him that reverberates through the room. You’re obsessed, or something along the lines of it, and you hope this never ends.

"You're so beautiful," Leon murmurs, eyes fluttering shut before he begins yanking off your panties like they offended him personally. Your glistening core is exposed to him, positively dripping from just the small things he's given you so far. "Jesus Christ, sweet girl. Is this all from the little I've done?" 

You squeak as he positions your legs over his shoulders, breaths puffing right over your waiting cunt that impatiently pulses with the need to be filled. He still doesn't allow you much room to move and a desperate little noise makes its way from your throat as he teases you with everything you want so close yet so far. 

"Use your big girl words," he prompts gently, tilting his head so that it rests on your inner thigh. "I need to know that you want this."

"I do," you whimper immediately, trying to find solace in tweaking one of your nipples for some sort of pleasurable reprieve. All that dignity you'd been trying to preserve goes out the window. "I want you so bad, Leon. I can't take it anymore–please, please."

"Good girl," he purrs, all sultry and seductive. 

You choke on a gasp when his lips close around your folds, sucking sharply and swirling his tongue in your clit roughly. Instinctively, your hips break free and shy away from his touch, but Leon has none of it and merely pulls you back down to keep attacking your poor cunt. You moan freely, hand tugging on his hair as he laps up your arousal like a dying man and when his eyes flick up to meet yours, the fire in your belly flares.

You cry out his name, unable to vocalize or convey just how good he was making you feel. You've never had this before–this attention and euphoria.

Leon's head nods into you as his tongue fucks you deeper and you squirm under his ministrations, pushing against his face in vain as if he could grant you more than he could. He sinks his middle finger into your wet heat, tongue circling on your clit as he pumps in and out of you. The noises your pussy makes when he adds his ring finger and starts rocking them in and out of you would almost be embarrassing if you weren't so focused solely on how he was making you feel.

He eats you out like this would be his last meal, savoring the taste of you on his tongue as he fingerfucks you brutally. Experimentally, he curls his fingers up and you squeal, babbling incoherently and just settling on begging him to let you go. You can feel it building up just as he brushes against a spot deep inside you that makes you ascend, and you squeeze your eyes shut as the pleasure pricks tears in your eyes. 

He moans appreciatively, sending vibrations throughout your whole body and as you grind desperately against him. He keeps you as still as he can manage, but you're not a world-class agent for nothing. Even as Leon tries to control the thrusting of your hips upward, he also has to work on keeping your legs spread open in case you crush his head in between your thighs. 

Maybe he wouldn't object to it.

Leon pulls away, watching his fingers disappearing into you with a nonexistent resistance, cooing over your whimpers. "Does that feel good, sweet thing? Fuck, you taste amazing."

You keen at his words, face blazing hot as he momentarily takes the time to rub his wet fingers all across your folds so that cool air kisses between your thighs. "Leon!"

"You say my name so prettily," he sighs erotically, pushing his fingers back into you and scissoring harshly as he's knuckle-deep. "You gonna let me stretch you out? Gonna let me fuck you so good, all you can think about is my name?"

"Please," you whine again, and you have a feeling you'd be asking him for a lot tonight. Trying to think of any way to speed up the process so you can get what you really wanted, you whisper desperately, "Baby, I need you inside of me."

"Fuck," he hisses, voice gravelly as he begs. "Let me fuck you, angel. Let me fuck that pretty pussy of yours."

Your legs spread even wider as he works on getting his jeans off, and you eye the happy trail that takes route from his belly button and disappears into the waistband of his boxers. He's leanly muscular, though he's nothing short of attractive to you. 

To think that only a couple weeks ago, you would've killed yourself before even thinking about having sex with Leon Kennedy. Now, you think you would offer up yourself to whatever god existed just to be able to have this again–to be able to have him again. This vulnerable moment where all he wanted was to make you feel good and to hear you scream his name is something that has come straight out of your fantasies.

Fantasies during nights where you thought about touching yourself because of him but holding back because trying to hold back your noises while the man was literally sleeping in the same room was a horrendous idea. All that time you thought about what he would do to you and craving a touch you never thought you would get is paying off as he eyes you hungrily from above, licking the slick you'd left off of his fingers and palming the obvious tent in his boxers.

"You're staring," he comments slyly and you roll your eyes.

"And you're thinking about me," you accuse.

A smirk grows on his face, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes as he shuffles down the waistband of his underwear only slightly but just enough so you can see the implications of his sculpted v-line. 

"How did you know?" Leon hums and you blush furiously as if that persistent heat could burn any hotter. 

You turn your face away, unable to hold eye contact without getting flustered all over again. "Take it off before I do it for you, asshole."

"Would you?" He croons and you hide your face in your hands from the embarrassment of his unspoken words. "You're so cute when you're embarrassed, sweetheart."

It doesn't feel like you're adults right now, but rather two stupid teens getting up to something they shouldn't and acting like they were grown ups. It doesn't help the fact that you've had a playground rivalry for who knows how long, something so childish that you can't believe you'd let your icy emotions get the better of you for all those years. You can't help but wonder if this is something you could have had if you hadn't been so blind-eyed by the J.I.E. 

You feel the mattress shift beneath you and you pull your hands away from your eyes just in time to see Leon throw his discarded boxers somewhere else in the room, but it doesn't take long for your eyes to trail down. Leon's cock stands stiffly at attention, already leaking precum from the angry red tip that he hadn't even touched yet. Your mouth waters, and your hand twitches to wrap around it though you haven't had this experience for maybe over a decade. 

"See something you want?" He teases, though the words barely reach your ears as he climbs back to hover over you. 

You're crazy, and you know it by the way the words fall from your lips without a second thought. "Yeah. Was it from just…?"

His cockiness fades for a moment and his eyes soften, a genuine smile spreading across his features and lighting up his already-flushed face. "You're incredibly sexy when you're enjoying yourself, princess." You startle, and he laughs lowly, pecking your cheek. "Liked that one, huh?"

Leon kisses you deeply and you moan upon tasting yourself on his tongue as he feels up your torso and wipes a thumb over your breast. Blindly, you feel down his stomach, appreciating the definition of his well-deserved abs, and finally get a shaking hand around his dick. The action elicits a rich groan from him, even though you've barely even touched him. 

You slide your thumb across his slit, beading wetness sliding down your palm and providing the moisture you needed to stimulate him just right. Your motions aren't smooth by any means, and Leon can probably tell that you're not used to this, but he must be getting something out of it by the way his mouth drops open and his eyes screw shut with that beautiful blush spreading across his skin like wildfire. 

"Careful," he warns, but it ends with a guttural moan when your fingers brush delicately across his balls. "Shit, you're gonna make me go insane."

"It's payback, baby," you simper, groaning when he runs a finger up your folds in punishment. In revenge, you pump your hand a little faster around his length and you can feel the throbbing veins pushing into your palm. 

Leon pulls your wrist away, and you go to protest, wanting to give him more like he'd given you, but he shakes his head and cuts you off with a well-meaning kiss. "We'll do that another time, doll. Right now, it's about you."

"But-"

"C'mon," he cradles your face so gently that the words die on your tongue. "Trust me, sweetheart. I'm right here–I'm not going anywhere. Not not, not ever."

His words cause your emotions to soar, tears leaking vulnerably from your lashes and he wipes them away gently with the pads of his thumbs. Nobody ever stays like he promises and the threat of him breaking that vow hangs precariously in your mind on whether you'll truly take it to heart or not. All around you is him, hands on your body and voice floating richly in your ears. Could you have this again and again? Would he stay long enough to let you?

"Don't leave," you beg pathetically, looking up at him through shamefully teary eyes. "Just don't go."

"I promise," his forehead presses against yours as he whispers vows under the cover of this private moment with just the two of you. "I promise."

You lock your legs around his waist and pull him downward so that his cock taps impatiently against your stomach and Leon quickly gets the hint as he reaches down to pump himself a couple times in preparation. He kisses you deeply, passionately, as he lines up with your entrance and the weight of anticipation causes all the blood to rush to your head. He grinds for an agonizing moment, dick sliding between your folds tantalizingly slow before he finally gives in.

The head of his cock presses into your cunt and your mouth drops open, skin flushing as you pull him closer to get your lips on his to muffle the desperate sounds you make as he sinks inch by agonizing inch into you. Your thoughts scatter until nothing but Leon fills them and your heart beats marathons in your chest.

Your hands find his broad shoulders, hanging on for dear life as he pushes further into you as you adjust to feeling him inside of you. It's been literal years since you've last had sex and though you'd never expected it to be with Leon, it feels a lot more sentimental and pleasurable than the affairs you'd had with past partners.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," Leon groans out, rolling his hips so that he bottoms out and the euphoria washes over you so deliciously that your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

"Le–on," his name falls brokenly from your lips, head spinning as you glance down and spot the outline of him bulging from your skin. 

Leon's forearms land on either side of your head, his nose bumping yours as his lidded eyes search yours. "Say it again. Say my name again, sweet thing." 

Fucking hell, his nicknames were going to be the death of you. 

"Leon–" you cry out when he sharply thrusts once, twice, then slowly begins setting a pace that has you seeing stars. As he adjusts to being inside of you, his speed increases in increments. You allow yourself to be loud, because right now, you could care less about dignity when Leon was just getting started.

His hips slam against you harshly, and he has you almost screaming when you can feel your plush walls hugging every vein and definition of his cock that he drags through you sweetly. His balls clap noisily against your skin and just the sound of it alone was enough to get you high and ever so closer to that sweet release. Leon's lips land on yours, kissing you roughly and the euphoria you were gifted from him abusing your hole was enough to keep you on cloud nine for at least a week. 

"Do you know how much I thought of this?" Leon grunts out, moving down so he can kiss the skin behind your ear affectionately. "Getting to fuck you so good that you don't remember anything but my name?"

His words make you whine and writhe beneath him until his hands hold your hips down so he can continue jackhammering into you at that relentless pace. You can feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix bruisingly and the fact that he's so deep inside of you is enough to leave you absolutely dripping. 

"Leon–fuck, fuck!" You cry out as he folds one of your legs up and settles your knee into the crook of his elbow, using that leverage to fuck your sweet cunt even harder. 

"All mine," he mumbles, pussy drunk and caught in a brain fog. "So fucking beautiful and all for me, yeah?"

You barely manage to hum out an affirmation but the torturous pleasure he subjects you to makes it sound borderline pornographic. Your thoughts scatter in the wind and only leave you enough sense to rack your fingers through his hair as he rocks his cock in and out of your hole, addicted to the feeling as you lose yourselves within each other. 

Higher and higher Leon takes you, licking up the column of your throat and biting hickeys into the skin of your neck as if to mark you as his. The pleasure burns brightly, a traveling firework climbing up to the sky in hope of exploding outward. This sensation–something you've never had before–is what makes you obsessed and afraid to ever let go. All those years that people came into your life and left without prompting is negated by the fact that he's stayed.

Leon stretches you into a full-on mating press, your knees kissing your chest as he fucks you deeper than before. You sob brokenly, clasping your arms around his neck and holding on for dear life as he pistons his hips harder into your dripping heat. The weight of him on your body as he works you both up to your heights drives you crazy and you can feel all that tension building up–that firework ready to burst.

"You know how pretty you looked?" He grunts out, working his thrusts as if he could go any deeper than he already was and you squeak as he gives your tit a slap. "All dolled up and wearing that pretty little dress I picked out for you? Fuck, I was so close to taking you that night."

"Leon," you whimper as those clear blue eyes bore into yours, hooded with lust and swirling with more emotion and passion than you've ever seen before. "Shit, if that's what you really think, why didn't you do this sooner?"

"Do what, sweet thing? Fuck this pretty pussy 'til I was rearranging your guts?" 

You whine submissively at his words, tugging him closer, and hiding your face in his neck. His cock ploughs into your shopping heat, fucking you like the two of you are animals. Leon swallows your gasp, tongue lolling out to beg for air until he captures your mouth and steals all the breath from your lungs. His tongue wrestles your one into submission before pulling back, a trail of saliva connecting your moist lips. 

"I wanted to," he admits vulnerably, "so many times we were alone–wanted to bring you to a quiet little place where we could forget about the missions and rivalries and show you what you were missing.."

You weren't going to last long if he kept revealing secrets like this was some sort of steamy confessional.

"I thought you hated me," you gasp, keening when his pace slows and begins favoring hitting you deep and hard over speed. Your eyes roll upward before squeezing shut and just revealing the feeling of him all around you in the best case of sensory overload. "I thought you wanted me dead where I stood."

He tilts your chin up, rutting deep into you that makes you see stars. "That cocky little girl who was unkillable, maybe. But, you showed yourself to me and there you were."

"But, you-"

"I didn't want to scare you off," he sighs, something soft that contradicts the way he's still balls deep inside you. "I was ready to kill you when you landed on my doorstep at that shitty motel, but…I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t lose you."

There's a gap where he trails off, looking into your eyes as you realize that all while you scorned him and loved him, he was going through the same tortuous emotions as you. Those encounters, shooting bullets in each other's directions and painting scars through wounds was all one-sided. Leon knows you genuinely hated him in a past life as he hated you too, wished he was dead in the same way he was so close to putting a bullet through your skull, and yet he's still here.

"I did hate you." You bury your nose into his neck. "I preyed on your downfall for so many nights and loathed that you kept me alive just to prove a point."

"And now?"

You open your eyes, looking past through tears that have started to prick your lash line. Your chest swells with an emotion you haven't felt in a long while, reigniting flames on a piece of cold coal that hasn't felt the kiss of fire for so long. This feeling that has caused you so much conflict before has a name on your heart, your mind, then your tongue. 

"Now?" You reach up, brushing bangs away from his moist forehead, and bring him closer like you were telling him a secret. Your lips ghost over his as you answer. "Fuck, I love you, Leon."

That declaration seems to be the breaking point as he squishes you between his body and mattress, sinking his weight onto you as he desperately begins pounding you into the bedsheets. You moan loudly, unbidden as you relish in the feeling of Leon and trailing your fingernails down his back in angry red lines. The pleasure tips you into overdrive, and you almost scream as you feel yourself just beginning to tip over the edge.

“Leon, I,” you stutter and his hips never break stride, seemingly spurred on by the implication of your words hot and heavy in your ear, “I’m close, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You choke on your breath as he wedges a hand between your bodies, rubbing furiously at your clit while muffling your sobs with an open-mouthed kiss. 

“Cum for me,” he pleads, eyes squeezing shut like you were tormenting him. “Cum on my cock baby, and I’ll cum for you too.”

Your head slams back onto the pillow, gasping and choking for air as you finally crash and that firework explodes outward. Your mind reels as you see white, gushing hotly around Leon who’s still chasing after his own high. You take the overstimulation, tears running freely now as you hold on for dear life he uses you to achieve his own orgasm, his grunts and breathy moans making home inside your memory as the sweetest sounds you’ve ever heard. You call out his name like a chant–a mantra, sweeter than any prayer you’ve ever had to utter.

When he pulls you in his arms, settles his full weight onto you, and kisses you so desperately like you’d disappear the moment he opened his eyes, you know he’s reached it.

Leon rams his hips so that he drives as far as he could into you, cum shooting white hot ropes and painting your walls white. You choke on your own breath as warmth spreads through your body, addicted already to the feeling of his cum spurting inside. You're mesmerized as you watch as his face pinches into something so beautiful and pretty to watch, and you wish you could ingrain the look of him coming undone into your head permanently. 

Nothing but hot pants fill the air as he lifts himself from your frame, hands bracketing either side of your head as he pushes himself up to get a good look at you, blissed out on his cock and almost fucked stupid. He brushes fair from your forehead and kisses you lightly in a deep contrast to the way he had nearly bruised your lips as he came.

You shift and he winces, slamming his hands on your hips to hold you still as he stays inside of you. 

"Stop," he breathes out as if it pained him.

"Leon? What are you-"

"Fuck–just please, I need–" he gasps, slightly moist forehead coming to rest on yours, "You're so good, baby. Just let me stay like this for a bit–just a second."

Your emotions take a hit as he begs you to stay despite the oversensitivity combating the need to be as close as possible to you. "Alright," you whisper, though a pressing question comes to the forefront of your mind. "Can I ask you something?"

"Hm?"

"Why did…Why’d you kiss me?"

He laughs, all gentle and real right from his stomach and it sends shivers down your spine. You want to draw the sight of his laugh lines into your permanent memory. "Of all the things that just happened, that's what you want to know?"

"Mhm," you affirm, having no strength to try and fight him on the matter. He's left you breathless and tired, and frankly, you just want to know what’s on his mind.

"Well, that's a bit of a stupid question." He nudges your chin up with the crook of his index finger and those blue crystalline eyes catch yours to sweep you off your feet again. "I kissed you because I wanted to, sweetheart.”

You breathe, working on keeping it level as he finally slips out of you, mixed fluids leaking out of your spent cunt upon not being plugged anymore. Leon leans back, admiring his work and laughs to himself. His eyes trail up your body and your gazes connect. You find him looking at you, searching for something like he usually does, but this time, he finally seems he found what he’s looking for.

“Did I let you find it?” you ask tiredly.

“Hm?”

“Back at the cafe,” you explain with exhaustion lacing your voice. Leon gets up, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment, and you hear the sound of running water. When he comes back out, he grabs a water bottle from the fridge that was provided from the hotel and returns to the bedside, running the warm cloth against your oversensitive skin. 

“Yeah?” He murmurs to show he’s still listening even as he carefully wipes down the inside of your thighs. “What about it?”

“You said you were looking for something, but I wasn’t letting you find it. Did I do it?”

Leon pauses in his actions, takes a good look at you though you don’t know what’s happening in that complicated head of his. Nonetheless, he smiles and crows feet crinkle his eyes as he leans over to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “You did,” he affirms sweetly, then once he deems you clean enough, he says, “You did good, baby.”

The praise goes straight to your head as you try uprighting yourself, but almost miserably failing before Leon catches you. One of his arms curls around your rigid upper back and the other tucks beneath your knees as he easily lifts you and carries you to the pull-out bed that he’s been sleeping on since you got here. Gently, he deposits you on the mattress with the water bottle before beginning to wipe himself down. 

You take gentle sips, watching him as he finishes up and joins you at your side on the bed, sinking down in the much cleaner sheets and tossing the fabric over you. Quickly, you fall into place with your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat and legs intertwined. One of his arms lazily tosses over your waist as he buries his nose into your hair.

Never before has your heart felt so full and alive before, pumping strongly and emotionally just for the man in front of you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, feeling sleep weigh heavily on your mind. “For everything.”

“You make it sound like you’re dying,” he jokes, hand running cautiously up and down your back. You shudder as he feels along every scar with expert care, but you find it's not as bad as you thought it would be. “We still have a long way ahead of us.”

“We do,” you agree thoughtfully before hesitating. “Do…you feel the same way I do?”

Leon kisses the crown of your head affectionately, polling you tighter and more securely against him. “Oh, I adore you, sweet girl. You’ve got me at your beck and call, I can promise you that.”

“Okay,” you settle down, finally at peace. “You’ll stay?”

He tilts your head up, making you stare into those blue eyes that have carried you through so many years of torture and conflicted love. Leon Kennedy, this masterpiece of a man weighed down by years of his job who has tried to kill you and in turn survived your attempts to slit his throat wide open loves you. Even when you hated him, you couldn’t stay away as if the stars and the universe had destined for you to always be connected.

Maybe this is what it means to be in love–to be devoted to someone that you need then like you need the air to breathe.

“I promise,” Leon says, sleep edging on his voice warmly but still persisting to lay your fears to rest. “You’ll have to kill me to stay away from you, (Y/n). I’m yours, whenever and wherever you need, no matter the time of day. I’m staying for you because I love you.”

What a strange thing it is to be in love. But, perhaps in this moment, where you feel so incredibly warm and rich like a healthy fire with plenty of fuel to go on forever, you decide it’s not so bad. 

No longer does your heart stay frozen and bitter from years of misuse, but who would’ve guessed that the man who you swore to hate for the rest of your days would be the one to finally melt it down into a blazing fire of emotion?

Far away, miles away from you and Leon, the blizzard that had forced you under the same roof all those weeks ago dissipates, finally satisfied.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil leon #resident evil fic #resident evil x you #leon kennedy fanfic

[draemgal]

hurt you | cassian

18+, minors dni.

𓆩 if it’s love you want again,

don’t waste your time. 𓆪

you toss and turn in the mattress that felt all too big for you. comforter balled up in your fists and hair splayed across the pillow, you sighed. looking at the alarm clock beside your bed you found that it was two in the morning and you hadn’t slept for more than thirty minutes.

you became aware of how dry your mouth was and groaned as you pushed the covers off of your body. the chilly night air bit your legs as you stepped out of bed and wrapped your robe tighter across your body.

leaving your bedroom, you listened for signs of live from either of the boys. you lived in the house of wind with azriel and cassian.

the two illyrians were your best friends. you favored cassian to azriel, but you loved them both practically equally for different reasons.

your past history with cassian was complicated. you two dated for a while, but eventually called things off a few months ago amicably. you two had different needs and wants and you couldn’t give each other what you both deserved from a partner.

you sipped a glass of water and laid on the couch.

your mind raced with memories of one of the things that you truly missed from your relationship with cassian.

the sex.

the way his hair knotted itself between your fingers as you rode his tongue to climax, or the way he would pepper kisses across your breasts as he slowly entered you, complimenting how he fit so well inside.

“like you were made for me, princess.” he’d whisper in your ear, making goosebumps run down your bare skin you showed just for him.

your hand traveled until it found its stop under your sleeping bottoms. you carefully looked around, not seeing any signs that cassian or azriel were awake. you knew that you should finish this off in the privacy of your bedroom, but something about the trill and danger of being caught only excited you more.

you slowly circled your hand around your clit, feeling the wetness coat your fingers as you bit down on your lip.

you hadn’t felt release in a while because most times you didn’t let your mind wander about cassian. maybe it was the lack of sleep, but tonight you entertained your dirty thoughts.

a quiet moan escaped from your lips as you moved a finger to your entrance. you envisioned how his fingers would fill you as his tongue got to work on your clit, lapping up the mess you had made for him.

you worked faster, closing your eyes and pumping a finger in and out. you groaned, rolling your head back and bucking your hips against your hand.

your eyes eventually opened, and to your surprise cassian stood before you. his eyes burned with more than just the reflection from the fireplace, they burned with lust. hunger.

you hesitated for a second before smirking. pulling your bottoms down, you tossed them on the floor and spread your legs open before him. yon continued to work your fingers, only this time you kept your eyes on his and moaned a bit louder.

his pants hit the floor shortly after this, keeping your gaze and almost daring you to say something.

when you kept moaning, he took out his cock. it was already hard for you when he began to stroke it in his large calloused hands. he thrusted into his hand needily as he watched your fingers play with the pussy that was once his.

the noise of you both breathing heavily melted together in harmony and became a sound you heard in your memories.

you were close to release and he picked up on your facial cue, removing his hands from his cock and striding over, pulling your hand away from your clit.

“absolutely not.” he whispered, smirking as he brought his lips to yours briefly.

you kissed back, cupping the back of his head in your hands. as the kiss depended, you pulled him on top of you and wrapped your legs around him.

breaking away, he hesitated for a second. the warmth of his tip was directly in front of your entrance, teasing your need.

“are you sure? i don’t… i don’t want this to make you think anything.” he said, concern laced in his words.

you nodded, smiling gently. “use me, cassian.”

“i don’t want this to hurt you, y/n.”

you stopped his sentence short by aggressively pressing his lips to yours again, your tongue sloppily in his mouth. “i said use me, cassian.”

with that, he pressed his cock into you until his tip reached your cervix. you let out a moan, relishing in the familiar fit of him.

he chuckled into your ear and pressed his forehead against yours. “gods, i forgot how fucking tight your pussy is.”

you rocked against his length, your hands clawing into his back as he groaned, picking up the pace.

“m-missed your dick in me, cas.” you whimpered between the claps of his skin meeting yours.

cockily he smiled down at you and thrusted faster, almost as if he was just as sexually frustrated as you were.

he knew your body and the things that caused you to tick. his hands wrapped around your throat as he drilled into you, groaning and breathing heavily down at you. your moans followed his, both showing the ecstasy you were giving each other.

“you close, pretty girl?” you nodded as his thumb briefly went into your mouth. you sucked it, letting him watch the way your lips wrapped around it.

he grunted. “you gonna ask me like you used to?”

you were so close. you felt it bubbling in your stomach as your eyes rolled back. “c-cas…”

he smirked, rubbing your clit with his wet thumb as he continued pounding your pussy. “what baby?”

“can i cum for you?” you begged, the words barely being coherent as you fought your body’s urge to come undone for him without permission.

“only if i can cum in you.”

you nodded eagerly, wrapping your legs tighter around him. you unraveled underneath him, bucking your hips into his and moaning into his ear.

“fuck, cassian.” you groaned, wrapping your fingers in his hair as you felt his warm cum empty into your void.

he kissed you as you came together, his lips hungrily moving against yours as your bodies rocked together.

he let out a low groan as he pulled his throbbing dick out of you, plopping down onto the couch next to you before laughing.

“all i wanted was some water, y/n.” he smiled, looking at you and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. he reached down and grabbed your shorts, helping you slip them on.

you smiled, still reeling from your orgasm. “i didn’t force you to stay and enjoy the show.”

he patted your leg and offered you his cup of water. “yeah, but i’d be cursing myself until the day i died if i left.”

“same time tomorrow?” you rested your head on his shoulder and looked up at him.

“oh, absolutely.”

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar fic #cassian x reader #cassian smut #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian imagine #cassian one shot #cassian acotar

[sc0tters]

Nurse | Arber Xhekaj

summary: when you get sick, there is only one man fit for the job of playing nurse.

request: yes/no

warnings: none

word count: 0.52k

authors note: okay so I’ve never written for Arber but I actually loved this! The request said that they wanted it to be a blurb (I don’t often get requests saying that) which is why this is a little bit shorter than usual!

You felt awful.

December was always your favourite month, it was cold out and the snow was around. It was now socially acceptable to have all of your Christmas decorations up and most of all it held your favourite holiday of the year.

But what you had to say was your least favourite part of the month was the season that came with it. Without fail every year you were sick during December and this year was no different.

Arber had come home to see you laying on the couch after you missed the day from work. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were heavy clearly indicating to him that you were sick “oh my gosh you’re-home!” Your slight pause was due to a cough that left your painfully sore throat.

He couldn’t help but frown as you tried to get up “don’t you dare missy,” Arber clicked his tongue as he made his way over to where you were sat “you’re burning up baby.” The hockey player sighed as he felt your forehead.

As December was the only time that you ever really got sick Arber hadn’t gotten the chance to take care of you as the last time you were sick he was on a roadie with the team.

You wanted to protest as he held his hand out for you to grab as he helped you up “baby I’m gonna run you a bath okay?” Arber smiled as you nodded.

It was quick watching the warm water fill up the tub as your favourite bubble bath mixed with the water “where are you going?” You croaked finally getting comfortable until you saw that he was walking out of the bathroom.

Arber let his fingers tap against the frame of the door “I’m just grabbing my phone to order you some food.” Your favourite Italian place made a soup that you had every time you got sick and one night as you two were sat in bed playing twenty one questions you revealed to Arber that since you left your parents home that was the only thing that made you feel better when you were sick.

A smile formed on your face as you nodded, letting the soft smells of lavender invade your nostrils as you shut your eyes.

So what you didn’t expect was that when they eventually opened again you would be laying in bed with a tray in front of you “good morning baby.” Arber cooed pressing a kiss against your head “how long was I gone for?” You asked seeing that the curtains in your room were already shut “you fell asleep in the bath but you’ve been in bed for like thirty minutes?” The hockey player had lost track of time as up until the delivery driver got there Arber had been watching you sleep.

Weirdly it was where he seemed to find most peace as he saw that his girl was at ease.

“You know your teammates would like never let you live it down if they knew you watch me sleep right?

#arber xhekaj #Arber xhekaj imagines #nhl blurbs #hockey blurbs #blurbs #amber writes fics

[seresinhangmanjake]

Wants and Needs

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Y/N

Summary: Jake “Hangman” Seresin sets his sights on you, Rooster’s best friend, but it doesn’t take long for you to understand what type of man the cocky, blond pilot is. Unfortunately for Hangman, you have no interest in a womanizer. 

Wanrings/Notes: eventual smut (so 18+) This is very similar to my other fic because that one was basically a wip of what this turned out to be. Also: Hangman’s ego, fluff, flirting,  protective angry Rooster.

Words: 7020

-----

Jake Seresin had never been nervous a day in his life. Everything he did, he did with the utmost confidence; Each new challenge he set for himself he attacked head-on, but with a level of arrogance that he managed to feel put him above his peers. He was stronger than his teammates, infinitely more good-looking, and he owned the sky. But somehow, all of that dissipated the moment you stepped into Penny’s bar and into his life.

Normally, he wouldn’t care about a random beautiful woman. He’s had plenty, and plenty of women have been intimidated by his presence; so much so that a word from his lips sent them into a fit of fumbling sentences accompanied by flushed cheeks that looked more like the consequence of a day laying under the sun in 90 degree heat. His ended his time with them, somewhat respectfully of course, after a single night to try and find a woman in the bar that could be herself around him, but that was a rare woman at best. A rare woman that he found in you.

When you walked into the bar and he saw you for the first time, he lost his breath and immediately choked on the sip of beer he had just taken, coughing in such a way that the other pilots looked at him as if he was dying. Payback had smacked him on the back a few times until Jake spit out a couple ‘I’m fine’s’ and shooed his hand away.

You hadn’t even noticed him, and he feared what might happen to his reputation if he lost his composure when you undoubtedly, eventually would. Surely though, you wouldn’t do much better once your eyes landed on him. Surely you would have instant daydreams of his mouth on yours as he took you in the supply closet of the bar, just as he did. All women had a weakness for him, and the likelihood of you being the exception was as rare as a woman who could keep her confidence in his presence.

He would be fine. You would look at him and get a flush on your cheeks that he wouldn’t be able to help but picture as absolutely gorgeous, and he would once again gain the upper hand. He would just have to talk to you first; take control of the situation; make the first move. So he did.

He stood straighter from his leaned position against the wall—as if his Captain had just walked in the room—and set his pool cue aside, much to the dismay of the other pilots playing. Making his way over to you was easier than he thought. He didn’t stumble or bump into furniture, instead walking with sure steps.

With each step closer, he found it harder and harder to deny the beauty that a part of him hoped he had simply imagined. You’d been a good thirty feet away seconds ago, and maybe that distance had blurred some of your features. Maybe his mind had seen what he wanted to rather than the reality of it. But then he was next to you, taking deep breaths, and breaking the silence with an easygoing ‘Hey.’

You turned then looked him up and down once before meeting his eyes. And it was confirmed. You were as stunning as that part of him hoped you wouldn’t be, and you had an immediate hold on him.

“You’re a pilot,” you said, nothing detectable in your tone—no awe or amazement—and you turned again to accept the drink that Penny handed you with a smile. “Thanks, Pen.”

“Anything for you, hon. On the house. And welcome back,” the older woman replied, then shot a raised eyebrow at Jake.

She knew. She always knew. The bar owner was tricky that way; could read her patrons like a book and Jake was no exception. She’d warned more than one woman of his nature and he just prayed she could manage to hold off until he charmed you enough to form your own impression of him.

“Anyway,” he said, frowning at Penny before returning his full attention to you, “I’m Hangman,” and he reached his hand out to shake yours.

Staring up at him, you took a sip of your drink, lips wrapping so perfectly around the straw that he felt his pants uncontrollably tighten. He shook it off and gifted you one of his best dimpled smiles.

Tentatively, you placed your hand in his and gave him a single shake before retreating. “Hangman,” you questioned around your straw. “What kind of a callsign is that?”

“Well, they thought Hungman would bring about more questions.”

“Because of its inaccuracy?”

“Hardly, sweetheart.”

You looked down the narrow space separating your bodies to the slight bulge in his pants which thankfully wasn’t so noticeable as to be considered offensive, if you could even really tell the state he was in at all. Humming, you met his eyes again. “As much fun as I’m sure confirming that for myself would be, I have some people to meet, and you’ve now made me three minutes late.”

He leaned against the bar, arm bracing him for support. “I can’t imagine a night with them would end better than a night spent with me. I can guarantee I’d be more satisfying company.”

You squinted with sarcastic suspicion. “Is that so?”

“I’m more than happy to prove it to you if you’d like,” he said with a smirk.

“You could definitely try, Mr. Hangman, but I actually want to spend time with my friends tonight.” Then you passed him.

His eyes followed you making your way in the exact direction he had come from when he approached you, greeted by the wide smiles and hugs of his teammates. Phoenix gave you a big squeeze, Payback, a side hug, and lastly, worst of all, Rooster bent down to give you a kiss on the cheek.

So many women in the world, plenty in this town, and the only one to have made him choke on a liquid was comfortable enough with his sort-of-rival to have his lips on your skin. Now Jake figured he could either leave, like a sane man, or go get his balls busted by Rooster since you clearly will have told the group about his failed attempt to charm you by the time he returned. But Jake Seresin was not a weak man. He didn’t get embarrassed. You hadn’t rejected him, at least not entirely, so what reason did he have for not going back over and being the flirt his coworkers already knew him to be?

So he did exactly that; walked back over, grabbed his cue and sat on one of the stools within the circle of the group, cocky grin back on his face as if your last interaction never happened.

“Y/N,” Phoenix began as she sassily rolled her eyes,” this is Hangman.”

His smile almost dropped from surprise. They didn’t know. If they did they would be mocking him by now for striking out for the first time in his life.

“Hangman, huh?” You smirked.

“Jake,” he said and stuck his hand out to shake yours, holding his breath for the moment your soft skin touched his again. “Seresin.”

“Jake,” you repeated, and he felt a tingle make its way through his veins. “I like that better than Hangman.”

Phoenix snorted as she lined up her cue for a shot. “Just about anyone would.”

That dig he didn’t mind. But when Rooster draped an arm over your shoulders and pulled you close to playfully say, “Keep away from this one though, Y/N. His arrogance is mind-numbing and his conversation leaves plenty to be desired,” Jake felt the heavy urge to tackle him from his seat.

“Well, I’ll have to decide that for myself, won’t I.”

Rooster shrugged. “If you enjoy torturing yourself,” he said, then he removed himself from you to gulp his beer dry and take his shot at the pool table.

Jake swallowed as you stared at one another, waiting for everyone else to direct their attention elsewhere before he asked, “So you know Rooster.”

“I do. Childhood friends. Our fathers flew together some before Goose met Maverick.”

“Oh, that is incredibly inconvenient,” he said, turning his head to confirm no one was paying attention before stepping into your space, making you walk backwards until you were both out of view. “He’s sure to poison you against me.”

“If you don’t do that yourself, you mean,” you chuckled, and Jake fought the urge to laugh with you. But he did smile. You were just a touch too sassy, and he loved it. “You know once they bother to look around, they will see that we are both missing.”

“Let them think what they want.”

“Oh no, Hangman—”

“Jake.”

“—I just arrived in town and I don’t need my best friend giving me a lecture about men already. He’s very good at them,” you snorted and took a sip of your drink. “It’s incredibly irritating.”

He nodded and placed his hand flat on the wall beside your head. “So what you’re saying is once we start something we will have to keep it quiet for a bit.” Then he leaned in closer, wrecking the carefully crafted distance between your lips. “I’m fine with that, as long as it’s not quiet forever.”

You put your own palm on his chest before he could get any closer, but still, it was only a few inches that kept you apart. He couldn’t keep his eyes from darting to your lips as you spoke. “There will be nothing for us to start, Jake Seresin. Based on the majority of what you have said to me in the very limited time I have known you, I’m not convinced you have good intentions.”

Your breath fanned his lips. So close. They were so close to his, and he needed to feel them.

“And I don’t have an interest in spending much time with a man who wants one thing and one thing only.” You shoved him gently and giggled at how he stumbled.

“Who said I only want one thing,” he asked as he rubbed his chest in the spot where your hand had been.

Rolling your eyes, you said, “I’ve known men like you my whole life. Somehow, I doubt you will be able to convince me otherwise.”

“I’m always up for a challenge.”

You grinned in a way that squeezed his heart and said, “Well now you have one,” before walking back into the sight of your friends and his teammates.

 You thought Rooster had the strongest hugs, which could crush your lungs and snap your rib like a giant snapping a toothpick, but it was nothing compared to those of your shared honorary uncle.

“I’m so glad you came. I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in a year,” Maverick said as he finally released you. His smile rivaled the brightness of the sun as he looked between you and Rooster. “Brad’s going to show you around?”

“That’s the plan. Just two wildlings on the loose around millions of dollars of vehicles and equipment,” Rooster replied as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. As kids you were destructive, and that was putting it nicely. Neither of your families could have expensive things in the home, and when the two of you were put together, it was like the apocalypse had come to town in the form of two tiny monsters. “We should get a move on,” he continued. “Lots to do. Lots to see. Lots to destroy.”

“Alright, alright,” Mav laughed, lightly patting Rooster on the bicep. “But I want the both of you to come to dinner tonight at Pen’s.”

“I think that’s doable,” you said.

Maverick clapped once. “Great! That’s great! You guys go, and come over around seven, yea?”

“Sure.”

“Alright, Brad, give her full tour. Don’t skip a thing.”

“Will do, Mav.”

You both watched as Maverick slipped his arms through the sleeves of his leather jacket and threw a leg over the seat of his bike. The engine echoed in the space and when he rounded the corner, he tossed you a wave which you happily returned.

“He seems to be doing well.”

Rooster laughed, “He’s just excited for you to be here. Wants to move up the wedding I think, as well,” he said, then started towards the door that led back into the main building, which he held open for you. “Ok, so what do you want to see first?”

 “So, what do you think?”

Rooster had his eyebrows raised and arms out as he motioned to the rows of planes, one of which he usually flew during missions. “Brad, it’s all amazing. Seriously, I love it. I haven’t seen this stuff up close since dad brought me when I was five.”

With a snort, he said, “Anything you would’ve seen then is now ancient,” but then his smile fell and he cleared his throat. “How are you doing with all of that?”

“Fine.”

Rooster sighed your name.

“Really, Bradley, I’m fine,” you said as casually as you could. “I wasn’t, so I ended up spending a year alone, and now I am, so I moved here to be as close as possible to the people I have left.” It was a smart choice, you knew. Perhaps, the best choice you could have made. When your father died you weren’t sure how to cope but being around Rooster and Mav now gave you the comfort you hadn’t even realized you had been craving for a year. “I’m happy here. I know I’ve only been back a week, but,” you took a breath, “I don’t know, it’s something in the air. I feel like this is where I am supposed to be.”

Rooster beamed as he linked your arm with his and started to stroll along one of the concrete pathways. “Something in the air, huh?  I think—”

“Hold on,” you paused, jerking him backwards. “Where is that coming from?”

He waited a second in silence with you, but the moment he heard the harsh bark of the number one-sixty-two, he knew exactly from where it was originating. He snorted. “This way.”

“What?”

“Come on. I’ll show you.” He pulled you along, around the corner to a long stretch of black pavement. “Drills,” Rooster said, bringing you closer to the two men ahead of you, one barking out numbers, the other doing push-ups in time with the barks. “When uncle Mav started training us, he made up this game where one plane tries to ‘shoot down’ the other and whoever loses has to do two-hundred push-ups when they get back to base. It keeps us on our toes.”

“Damn, that’s—”

“A beating,” Rooster chuckled. “Looks like it’s Hangman today. He’ll be a peach but try to ignore him. I’ll introduce you to Cyclone.”

“O-Ok.”

The cold look of the older handsome man before you morphed into a smile the moment he took his eyes off Jake and put them on you. “You must be Y/N,” he said.

“Yep,” Rooster replied, popping the P, then turned to you while motioning to the man. “Y/N, this is Cyclone.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sir.”

“Oh, don’t bother with the formalities,” Cyclone waved a hand. “Right now, the only one who needs to worry about that is Hangman here,” he said, slapping the now-standing blond on his naked back.

You had tried your best, truly, not to look at him—though you could feel the heat of his stare on you—because you knew for a fact that if you looked at him your knees would wobble. And so you steeled yourself the best you could before you let your gaze wander from one man to the other.

A whimper nearly escaped past your lips that you struggled to tamp down. The sight of him, shirtless and practically glistening from the sunsets light shining on his sweaty torso, was almost enough to make you surrender yourself to him right then and there. His chest was still heaving from the intensity of the workout as droplets of perspiration forged rivers over and around the muscles of his abdomen. When your eyes traveled up to his face, his own were glued to your mouth; and it was only then that you realized you had one half of your bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

When you released it and darted your tongue out to wet the dryness of that lip, his eyes finally met yours. He swallowed hard, adam’s apple bombing harshly, and you thanked God that Rooster found whatever Cyclone was saying to be so interesting, because if he saw the way you were looking at the blond pilot, he would surely lock you up and throw away the key.

“Are you going to the bar tonight,” Cyclone asked, “to help set up for the new class?”

“Can’t,” Rooster said. “We’ve got dinner with Mav and Pen. But we’ll be there for the Fresh Meat Party tomorrow.”

Jake looked away from you then, but you didn’t miss the tiny quirk of his lips. Regardless of what might happen at the recruits’ party tomorrow night, for the sake of your sanity you just hoped he would have the common decency to wear a shirt.

You were forced to hold you drink close to your chest to avoid knocking it into the loads of pilots packed into the medium-sized bar. Everyone, pilots and some of their significant others, had about two inches of breathing room, but you seemed to be the only one struggling with it. Maybe because pilots were used to being in somewhat tight quarters. And maybe because those pilots’ girlfriends were more than happy to have their bodies smashed up against their man, if not only for the sake of making sure every single woman knew he’d be taken.

But you were both single and unaccustomed to cramped spaces. And for the first time, you were beginning to worder if you had claustrophobia that had just laid dormant for your entire life. You couldn’t even manage to squeeze your way through the bodies to get back to Rooster and your friends. And calling for them was out of the question. Your voice would undoubtedly be drowned out by the roar of combined laughter, shouting, and clinking glasses.

Leaving your drink on the bar, you used both free hands to part the bodies and shimmy yourself through until you could reach one side of the building. The wall felt cool to your skin as you propped yourself against it and got a decent breath for the first time in the night. A fresh breeze from the closest open window penetrated the cloud of heat surrounding you.

“You did pretty well escaping that,” you heard from your left. You whipped your head to the side to find one of the pilots—without question, a new recruit—standing awfully close, one shoulder against the wall as he took sips from his beer.

His smile put all of his shining, white teeth on display, but there was a cocky edge to it. You knew most of the pilots were like this. The danger of their job and their near physical perfection gave them a certain level of confidence few others possessed, but you were getting a little sick of the panty-dropping grin—well, unless it was coming from one particular pilot. Though you couldn’t deny that the one before you, with his dark hair and blue eyes, was as annoyingly handsome as the rest.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your escape; it was narrow. Like a F-18 slipping through a hundred-foot gap between two mountains,” he said, using one of his hands to mimic a plane turning on its side and weaving through imaginary terrain. “Nothing short of impressive.”

“Thanks,” you let out an awkward chuckle. “I think.”

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he said as his eyes drank in the shape of your body. “Eurus.”

Your eyebrows rose. “That’s your call sign?”

“That’s right,” he smirked and winked, but something about it felt slimy,” Greek God of the Eastern Winds and bringer of storms.”

Had the guy dropped his drink in favor of flexing like Hercules, it wouldn’t have surprised you. He certainly had the build to do the hero justice, and the ego to make you nauseous. “Wow. That’s—intense.”

“I’m an intense guy, baby. But I have a feeling you’ll like it.”

Your jaw almost dropped. Why these men felt the need to set their sights on you was beyond you. “Excuse m—”

“Alright, Icarus, that’s enough,” Jake said from behind you. His voice both overworked your heart and provided you a certain level of comfort, like a warm blanket wrapped around your shoulders in a snowstorm. You turned but he kept his eyes on the younger pilot, clearly amused by the irritation on his face. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“It’s Eurus,” he spat.

“I really don’t care,” Jake chuckled and crossed his arms. “Just move along.”

When the new pilot cursed and left, you copied Jake’s stance, crossed arms and all, and tilted your head to examine him. He was quite proud of himself, you could see. An exercise in stretching his masculine need to protect you for whatever reason. Or if not for that, then solely to put a claim on you.

“Sorry, I was a little late on the rescue, sweetheart,” he said with that damn grin; the grin that, coming from him and him alone, could probably get you to fall on your knees. “It’s hard to get from one side of the bar to the other tonight.”

Scoffing, you sputter out, “The rescue?”

“No need to thank me; your presence is reward enough,” he said, moving closer to you, irises flashing with an intensity that made your lips subconsciously part; enough space between them that his tongue could easily slip inside. “—And I know you’d rather talk to me than him.”

You blinked and regained some shred of your composure. “Don’t be too sure. He said nearly the same thing to me that you did when we first met, just in his own special words.”

“Well I’m at least better looking than he is.”

With a hum, you said, “See, I’m not so sure about that either. Being insanely attractive seems to be a requirement for those in your profession.”

The corners of his lips quirked up, right before he wrapped his fingers around one of your wrists and led you out the back door onto the quieter part of the porch. The waves crashed against the shore; the soft sound more commanding than the chorus of voices back inside. He pulled your body close to his, his thumb rubbing back and forth along the underside of your wrist.

“Hangma—”

“I saw the way you looked at me yesterday. Just admit you want me so we can finally do something about it.”

“As if you didn’t look at me as well.”

“I have no problem admitting to that. You know I want you,” he said, raising a hand to cup your cheek which you gently swatted away.

“You want something from me,” you corrected with a soft laugh, “That’s different.”

“It is different,” he nodded. “It’s also not what I said.”

“I told you I know men like you, and men like you are—”

“Y/N!”

You hopped away from Jake, three solid feet finding their way between your body and his at the sound of Rooster’s tipsy voice. “Brad?”

“Hey,” he called as he peeked his head through the doorway. “I’ve been looking for you. We need you to settle a debate.” He eyed Hangman briefly with pinched brows of a skeptic before looking back at you. “Come on; before we get so drunk we forget what we’re talking about.”

“Be right there.” Rooster returned to the mass of pilots, and you turned back to Hangman. “Rescued twice in one night,” you said, “I’m such a lucky girl,” then you headed back into the bar to find your friends and leave Jake Seresin to himself.

 It was weeks. Weeks of him wanting you. Weeks of him flirting, only for you to come back with some witty quip that equally entertained him and put him in his place. Weeks of visiting the bar or waiting for you to visit base, hoping just to steal a glance or two, and hoping you might try to do the same. Thankfully, you never let him down. You wanted him too; he knew it. He just had to figure out a way to get you to give in.

  “Y/N, you want in,” Rooster asked from your right, but you barely heard him. Your mind was focused elsewhere, and your gaze unable to be swayed. Instead, it remained tacked to the one man who had been putting in an exorbitant amount of work to frustrate you over the last few weeks.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin rested back in the barstool, his legs spread just enough that if you walked to him you could fit perfectly between them. It would be so easy for him to wrap his arms around you…pull you closer…kiss you. But you remained a good twenty feet away, and all he did was watch you. Even when another pilot spoke to him, his eyes remained on your face as he responded.

“Y/N,” Rooster said a little louder and lightly tapped your arm with the cue. You turned to him and he rose an eyebrow at your cluelessness. “Pool? You in?”

“Oh, uh—right,” you winced. “That’s probably not a good idea. I’m sure I’ve lost any skill I had from when we were teenagers, Brad.”

Rooster laughed and shook his head. “You are the one who taught me,” he said, “And I win half the games we play here.”

“Who wins the other half?”

“That would be me,” the irritating, blond pilot interjected as he stood from his stool and approached the table. Fanboy held his cue out, immediately surrendering it to Hangman. “And ‘half’ is generous. It’s more like 60/40,” he said with that cocky smirk. “Rooster here is alright, but I’m better.”

Your friend crossed his arms then nudged your shoulder with his. “You could still beat him, Y/N.”

“How about it, sweetheart,” Jake asked, grabbing the other cue and offering it to you. Playing games with Jake Seresin seemed to be the only thing you knew what to do with each other. But there was something in you, when challenged by him, that struggled to back down.

You stood a little taller and reached out to take the cue, but he pulled it back just before you could wrap your fingers around it.

“Want to make it more exciting?”

You weren’t sure you could take anything more exciting when it came to him. Just being around him for an hour was enough to fulfill a week’s worth of any excitement you might crave. Rolling your eyes, you exhaled heavily. “How?”

He grinned. “If you win, you can request anything of me, and I will do it.”

Your eyebrows rose and your friends around you snickered when you said, “Even if I want you to strip and run around on the beach at 5 a.m.?” Your finger pointed towards the door that led to the short stairs into the sand. His eyes followed that line, and then he looked back at you.

“Even then.”

Chuckles echoed in the room, Payback slapping Jake on the back in hysterics over the mental image you provided.

“But if I win,” he continued, and you could see by the sparkle in the green of his irises that whatever he had planned was likely to piss you off. “—you let me kiss you.”

The laughter around you died. Mouths snapped shut and eyes widened as your group of pilots looked back and forth between you and Jake, and then at each other in complete shock. The air was tense and thick enough to be cut by a knife; a knife in the form of Rooster’s inflamed tone.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Keep out of it, Rooster,” Jake said, still watching you, “This has nothing to do with you.”

“The hell it doesn’t!” Rooster stood, but the back of your hand landed in the center of his chest to stop him from taking a single step in Jake’s direction.

“It’s fine. Brad. Just because he has an overinflated ego doesn’t mean he will win.”

Jake tilted his head. “You’ll have to play to find out, won’t you.”

The group had watched the game with bated breath as you and Jake each took your shots, and it wasn’t until you sunk the eight ball that they all exhaled heavily enough to draw your attention to each one.  

“Thank God.” Rooster let out a relieved sigh, put his hand over his heart, and said “I’ve avoided the heart attack.” He gave you a crushing hug, but then left the bar with the other pilots; all leaving in groups of two. Rooster and Coyote first, then Bob and Phoenix before Payback and Fanboy, until only you and Jake remained.

He gathered up all the balls and put them back in the center of the table, avoiding the way your eyes followed the movements of his muscled arms.

“You let me win,” you said.

He quietly snorted as he grabbed the cues and placed them back on the wall. “You think I wanted to lose,” he asked, “when all I’ve thought about from the moment we met is kissing you? Well—among other things.”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” He turned and crossed his arms as he leaned back against the wall. He gestured a hand your way. “Explain.”

“You were never going to force me, Jake,” you said, starting to walk over to him. “Because, at the end of the day, what would that prove—“ you stalled when a couple feet was all that kept your body from his— “You want me to want you by deciding that all on my own. If we kissed only because you won, then did you really win?”

Seconds of silence passed. He briefly broke eye contact as he rubbed at his chin. “Yea, well, that wasn’t the initial plan. But it may have occurred to me towards the end there.”

Your lips quirked at his honesty. Never would you have imagined Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin admitting to a miscalculated plan. That was akin to admitting defeat for him, and defeat was not something he swallowed any better than a spoiled child. “Do I get to make my request now?”

“You won, didn’t you,” he said. “Do I need to mentally prepare myself for arrest after I strip on a public beach?”

“No.”

“What should I prepare for then? Some creative rejection? Maybe a little maiming?”

“Jake—”

“Death?”

You shook your head. “I want you to kiss me.”

Any glint to his eyes or humor in his tone eased as the corners of his lips slowly settled back to their natural placement. “Y/N—"

“I’m serious.”

He waited a moment, eyes prodding yours for any hesitation, but when he found none, he was on you before you could take another breath, one hand wrapping around your waist, the other tangling in your hair so he could hold you to him. His warm mouth covered yours, taking your bottom lip between his two and lightly sucking. Your lips parted and he slipped his tongue inside to meet yours, and when you moaned into the kiss, the arm around your waist tightened.  

When you pulled away for air, he nudged his nose against yours and bowed until your foreheads could gently meet. “Come back to base with me,” he said and gave you another peck.

You hummed sweetly at the idea but whispered, “No.”

“Why not?”

Your eyes were closed but you could sense the smile on his face. Then, reaching up, you wrapped your arms around his neck and lifted your chin until your lips could connect again, and said, “Because I live closer.”

He couldn’t let you go. He wouldn’t stop touching you. His hands clutched so tightly to your t-shirt he was sure the fabric would be stretched when it came time to examine it in the morning. But he didn’t care. He just wanted it off, that barrier gone between you, so he took it by the hem and pulled it over your shoulders.

Looking at you in your lacy garment, an involuntary groan escaped his throat; and when he yanked the cups of your bra down until your breasts spilled free, completely exposing you before him, he could have whimpered. Pupils swelled, overtaking the green, at the sight of your nipples already hardened and the gooseflesh that began to spread over them from the chill.

“God,” he whispered, still trying to hold back that whimper at the feeling of your tightened, pink buds under the pads of his thumbs. “I better not be dreaming.”

You inched up on your toes, licked your lips, and said, “You’re not,” before softly placing them on his.

His head instantly fuzzed, senses overwhelmed, all thoughts shoved out of his brain but those of you. You. His lips parted so he could draw your bottom one between them to suck and nibble. The touch of your tongues made his knees betray him. The feel of your fingers grazing the lines of his jaw sent shivers down his spine. And he needed to control this before he collapsed on the floor.

He tucked his fingers under the bands of your leggings and underwear and pulled down, then painfully slowly trailed those fingers over the plumpness of your thighs until he reached between your legs and buried them within the warmth of your slick folds.

“Fuck,” he moaned, eyes squeezing shut as his forehead dipped down to meet yours. He barely registered your palms moving down his chest, undoing the button and zipper of his pants, and shoving your hand inside to wrap around his cock.

Reluctantly, he removed his hand from your heat to brace on your hips so he didn’t drop to his knees. It was nothing like he imagined as you pumped him. He didn’t think this would kill him, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. He gripped handfuls of your ass and yanked you close until you were chest to chest, and he suddenly, desperately, he needed your breasts against his skin. Then, as if you had linked minds, you switched to unbuttoning his shirt. Button by button swelled anticipation until you shoved the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms leaving him free to wrap them around your waist again and reconnect your lips.

He kicked his pants off and walked you backwards until your legs hit the arm of your couch, then spun you and eased you over so your stomach rested against the leather with your ass on display for him. He locked the next breath in his lungs until it burned before releasing it shakily. Everything he had dreamed about for weeks was right there before him, willing to be taken, wanting and wet for what he had to give.

Another groan escaped when he rubbed the tip of his cock through your folds before shoving himself entirely inside you.

“Jake,” you softly cried, and his pinched eyebrows softened.

His hands clung to your hips, holding you still to keep himself fully sheathed in your warmth as he let himself adjust to the feel of your walls squeezing him. He bent over and placed sweet, simple kisses down your spine before returning to full height.

“Y/N, I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” he whispered, and he wasn’t sure you heard him, but then you straightened up, your back to his chest, and turned your head to kiss him.

“It won’t be,” you whispered back, and gave him another peck. Then you leaned down again so he could drag his cock out before slamming back into you.

Your cries of pleasure were a drug. Ecstasy. Heaven. A golden coating to his veins that carried pure bliss throughout his body. He prayed you were his now; that you wanted him to claim you as his. Because he was yours. He had been yours from the moment he saw you walk into that bar.

 The kiss on your forehead was what stirred you, and the mumble you made in response melded with the chuckle of a deeper voice.  

“Morning,” he said, pressing more kisses to your skin; your cheek, your exposed shoulder, and then your lips. A warm touch brushed stray hairs out of your face. “Coffee?”

You lazily gestured in the general direction of the kitchen before your arm flopped back to your side. “Far left cabinet, above the maker.”

He kissed you again, then tossed the covers off his body and slipped his boxers on. “Be right back,” he said, his heavy footsteps making their way to the door that he softly opened and closed. But the kind care he put into trying not to disturb you further was immediately overpowered by a jarring “What the fuck!”

You shot up, grogginess sprouting concern, and you rushed to wrap the bedsheet around your body and hurry into the kitchen. The sight before you stopped you in your tracks and seized all blood flow. “Shit.”

Rooster sat in one of the stools at your kitchen island, newspaper spread out on the marble countertop and your ‘my best friend is a pilot’ mug in his hand, filed to the brim with the black liquid. His jaw was slack, but brows could not possibly have been more turned down in the center. The glare he gave Hangman would have been enough to shatter you, but Jake stood still, a strong wall of a man who had no issue maintaining eye contact with your best friend.

“What the actual fuck is this,” Rooster growled, finally directing his stare at you, forcing the sudden urge to clutch the sheet and wrap it tighter around your body.

“Rooster—,” Jake began, but was instantly interrupted by your friend jumping out of his chair.

“You shut your fucking mouth!” Rooster pointed a finger at Jake as he stomped towards him, but you snuck your body between them before Rooster could get too close, placing the hand not holding up the sheet on his chest to try and stop him.

“Bradley,” you pleaded. “Breathe.”

And breathe he did, just not the way you wanted. His chest expanded greatly with every heavy, heated inhale. His eyes flared from the streaming sunlight through your window reflecting off of them. A raging bull was a before you, waiting to be taunted further. “Bastard.”

“Stop it,” you snapped, shoving him until he fell back a step. “What are you even doing here?”

“That’s what you think is most important right now!”

“This is my house!”

The dip of his eyebrows eased when he recognized the anger in your eyes. He never liked to make you mad; it rarely did him any good when you had no problem putting him in his place. “You have the good coffee,” he said. “And I wanted to talk to you, so I used the spare key and thought I would wait until you got up.”

Jake crossed his arms from behind you, and it was only that simple movement that had Brad’s death glare back on him. It shocked you that Hangman managed to keep his mouth shut. The cocky arrogance you knew he possessed could have reared its ugly head in a half-second in response to Brad’s outburst, but he was holding himself back.

“Did you get drunk after we left,” Rooster asked you. “Did he take advantage of y—”

“Jesus, no!” you shouted, slapping at the side of his arm. “What the hell is wrong with you? Am I not old enough, mature enough, to decide to be with him on my own?”

He scoffed. “Be with him? That sounds like whatever this—” he motioned between you and Jake “—is, will be more than a one-time thing?”

“That’s because it isn’t a one-time thing, jackass,” Jake said, and you shot him a look of warning.

Rooster’s eyes narrowed. “That better be a lie.”

“Bradley—”

“That better be a goddamn lie, Y/N!”

You recoiled at his shout, but regaining your backbone, said, “It’s not a lie!”

Seconds passed, achingly quiet, then Rooster shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “I do not approve of this,” he spit out through gritted teeth.

“Brad—”

“And neither will Uncle Mav.”

His words stunned you into silence and wasn’t until the front door to your house slammed closed that you snapped out of it. Muscled arms wrapped around your body from behind as a kiss fell onto the crook where your neck met your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Jake whispered against your skin.

“Don’t be,” you sighed, and twisted in his arms until you could lay your head against his bare chest. “He’s out of line. We’ll figure it out.”

“You’re not going to dump me because of this?”

You looked up at him and ran a finger softly along the line of his jaw, and when that fingertip reached the middle of his chin, you gently pulled his face forward and kissed him.

“No,” you said. “So don’t worry.”

 Tag: @marvel-ousnesss​

#jake seresin x reader #jack hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin x y/n #hangman x y/n #hangman top gun #jake seresin top gun #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #jake seresin maverick #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin #top gun hangman #hangman x reader

[anon-sect]

PART TWO (From the perspective of the objects, see part one for what happened previously)

Alexe had a temper issue.. if anyone pissed him off too bad, something happened to them, mostly non life threatening. It wasn't until he was in his forties that his temper issue gotten worse. Before only non life threatening injuries occurred on his victims, but that all changed after his first murder. He enjoyed seeing the life drain from the person that really made him angry. When he was finally caught, they were able to pin only ten murder victims on his record. That was only because those were the bodies they found with his DNA evidence on them. In fact, he actually had killed over thirty in total. The big difference was that the majority of his kills, he was able to completely dispose of the evidence or body. He never mentioned the other murders they couldn't find.

Regardless, Alexe was serving life in prison. Not long after that, he was informed of his status change. He would be offered up to be an object for another person to use as they saw fit. Unfortunately, he had no choice since the prison system sold him away to some company. He was extremely pissed when he saw a giant foot enter his sock body. The foot filled in his hollowed out insides and secured to his owner's foot. Back in his human days, this guy would just be another murder victim he enjoyed killing. But now as a powerless sock, he was forced to provide comfort to his owner's feet. He hated the very moment being wrapped around the guy's feet. The fact that the guy knew his sock is a former human and still used him as an object really made him angry.

Alexe was never remorseful about all those he killed. He had fun murdering them. Every urge he felt now was to kill the guy whose foot he was on. Being a powerless object really sucked horribly. He knew the foot would eventually smell foul, and he would smell like the guy's foot. It still didn't stop him from thinking what he would do to this guy if he could ever regain his humanity. For now, all he could do was be stepped on, stand on and shoved into stinky shoes. All of that totally against his own will.

Vice was out to make money selling high-end cars. Unfortunate for him, he was eventually caught, arrested, and sentenced to prison time for his crimes. He was only given 15 years, and he would be back on the streets, but the prison system made a change. He was sold away to be material to be transformed into an inanimate object for a person to use as they pleased.

Vice had hoped, at least, it would be a woman owner since he had no choice in his fate. He was disgusted when he saw it was a dude. To make him feel even more sickening about it, the guy chose him to be a sock. He would be forced to be wrapped around a guy's foot unwillingly. Powerless and no ability to move on his own made his fate mentally unbearable. He would have preferred a woman's foot over this guy's foot. He could feel the guy wiggling his toes in his sock body. The thought of smelling like a stinky foot disgusted him. He would be marked by foot odor of his owner's feet. He felt so degraded even thinking about that part, too.

Chaze tried in his new socks. They felt so wonderful on foot and super comfortable. He wiggled his toes in them. "I know my two socks are criminals, so I don't feel bad for you on my feet. In fact, let me show you how sorry I feel for you." He spoke directly to his new socks. He took them off his feet and unzipped his pants. He pulled out his dick. He placed one sock over it and thought about the hottest woman he knew. His dick got hard, and he began to jerk off in the sock. He released hot sperm into the sock, marking it as his property. He then did the same to the other sock. He rather enjoyed using the criminals like a cum rag. "You guys did the crime and now is paying the time as my property." He laughed as he put the unwillingly socks back on feet.

Alexe was cursing like crazy. A guy just jerked in him and marked him with his man juice. If he was human, he would first torture him and then murder him. He hated being so powerless.

Vice mentally cried, still taste the guy's cum. It was disgusting. Sadly, the guy could jerk in him again, and there was nothing he could do to stop him. If he could go back in time, he definitely would not be in his current situation

Cam was tired of day to day life. He just wanted a worry free life of not paying bills, doing chores, and just a life completely free of tasks or objectives to accomplish. The company gave him that solution. He now found himself as a boot for some stranger to wear. At first, he thought it was a bad idea as he felt socked feet enter his boot body. He heard that the socks were also former humans. He felt the socked foot press down on his insole face. It was painful as his owner stood up, applying even more pressure.

Cam realized he was just an object to him and nothing more. The owner didn't get a care about the human life under his foot, only that it served his purpose of supporting his feet. It was a painful existence and purpose. Not only the pressure of the whole body, but walking on all sorts of surfaces crossed his mind. He could feel the hard floor beneath his soles. The thought of walking on rocky ground worried him. He would feel all of that while his owner would feel nothing but cushion comfort. His life was now just to be under foot. Yet, it was the worry free life he wanted. He didn't have to do anything at all. It was a fair trade, he thought.

Mary had feared for her life after she betrayed the crime syndicate boss. She asked for the police to help, but soon found out some of them were on the crime boss's payroll. She received several death threats. She didn't know where to go to be safe. The company offered her the best solution. The crime syndicate would not know what object she was or who owned her. Only difference is that it would be a permanent situation. Her human life would be over forever, but at least she would be alive.

She felt the guy walk in her, pressing his socked feet on her face. She bared the pain of being walked on and crushed with each step. She contemplated whether this was better than running out of fear of death in her former human life. She was an object being crushed by a guy without a hint of mercy or care. But at least she was alive. The guy, in a way, saved her from being hunt down and murdered. This foot was her life saver despite all the pain it caused her to be under it. She decided she would worship the foot that kept her safe and alive. Her Master's foot was her savior and hero. She would gladly support every step it took on top of her with joy. This pain was worth it, knowing the crime syndicate would never find her.

Chaze loves the cushioning of his new cowboy boots. He didn't know if the two loved their new existence or hated, but they were really comfortable. Even if they hated, there was no way to reverse the process. They were forever stuck as boots, his boots. But he had more value placed on his boots than his socks. They willingly gave up their humanity to be owned. He sort of respected that part of them. He would take good care of his boots to show his gratitude for their sacrifice.

His new underwear was already wrapped around his waist under his pants. Blake made an excellent pair of underwear. He rubbed his crotch area. "How does it feel to have my dick in your face? You used to do this to me back in school. Now I get to do this to you for the rest of your life." He spoke as he let precum saturate his underwear with pleasure.

Blake remembered well the former nerd he used to torment back in school. He rather enjoyed it then. But never in his life that he thought the former nerd would own him as his underwear. He was his property now. He mentally pleaded for Chaze to have some semblance of mercy. Have precum on his face made him feel even more degraded than he already felt. He knew Chaze would sweat in him, and he would have to have a musky odor saturate his whole body. This was a fate he would never have wished for. But there was no returning to human life. He was forever underwear.

#inanimate transformation #foot domination #sock transformation #boot transformation #transformed underwear

[skepsiss]

Modern problems, Modern solutions pt7 *final*

This is the last part of this mini-series! This is very soft and romantic. I promised everything would turn out okay, and it turned out more than okay. Hope you guys like it! The story takes place a little over a month since pt6; Holiday vibes, so if you're in the mood for soft winter vibes, this is great as a stand-alone too.

cw: none. It's all soft.

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7

---

November hadn’t been smooth sailing; everything after the events of Halloween 2015 had been anything but smooth sailing. Eddie had struggled with apologizing and explaining the situation to everyone he had complained to and he had worked hard to prove to Robin that he was sorry for how he had acted. She in turn had apologized and they both seemed to understand why the other had reacted the way that they had.

You were just protecting him, I get in.

You were protecting yourself, I get it. 

They had both been pushed into a corner and while Eddie didn’t really think it was fair that his reaction had been to call Robin a dyke, it had happened and he needed to take responsibility for that. He’d learned over the years–and was still perfecting the art–that apologizing and just doing better mattered more than anything else. Admitting you were wrong was tough though, and Eddie knew himself… he knew that he held grudges and was stubborn but he had been more than compelled to put a swift end to any perceived fight with Steve and Robin. 

It had been awkward, that was for sure, and Eddie had taken a long time to sort out his own feelings. To Steve’s credit… he had been patient, very patient. But it had been disconcerning because everyone knew what had happened between them and that ultimately, in the end, Steve had confessed. 

What a concept. 

It had taken Eddie a long time to accept that Steve really meant it and this wasn’t some rich man’s fancy; it had taken twice as long for Eddie to admit his own feelings to himself. It was embarrassing and it had been a rocky start, but every time Steve dropped Dustin off at Hellfire he lingered and Eddie would quietly chat with him until he had wasted too much time and people began to complain. He had shown up to Steve’s basketball games too and stood awkwardly by the bleachers only to flush red when Steve spotted him and came over between plays. 

He felt spoiled and shy about it all at once, never having been faced with the prospect of a real person liking him back, let alone their generation’s teen-heartthrob. But that hadn’t stopped Eddie from calling Steve late in the evening and talking to him on the phone quietly until Wayne told him to be quiet. Even after that Eddie would whisper into his phone until he couldn’t anymore, just talking for hours. 

Eventually, it became ridiculous for them to be acting the way they were and to not be dating. 

They’d gone on their first date the weekend after Thanksgiving; it had been impromptu and amateurish but Eddie had felt giddy when Steve picked him up and hadn’t said anything for the first thirty minutes of their drive. He had been happy though… ridiculously happy. Happier than he could ever remember. He was practically beaming the whole time even if he was too nervous to say anything. 

The date hadn’t been anything spectacular, but it was novel; they’d gone to see a movie at the local theatre that did special features of old films. They watched a re-release of The Princess Bride and Eddie had only felt a bit self-conscious about whispering movie facts to Steve during the screening. Did you know the actor who played Fezzik was able to fit his whole hand over Robin Wright’s head? He did it between takes because she always got so cold on set. Apparently, he used to do it for his mother when he was a teen.

Did you know the ROUSs were operated by Dwarves and one of them got arrested the night before shooting and the production had to spring him?

And so on.

Steve had hummed and smiled every time Eddie had leaned in to tell him something, and thankfully there weren’t enough people in the theatre to complain about their constant whispering. 

Eddie had still flushed brightly and clammed up when Steve held his hand as they left the theatre. It had been surreal and Eddie had hunched in order to hide despite the fact that Steve and him were practically the same height. But it felt amazing to be walking in public holding Steve Harrington’s hand. Not just because he was popular or whatever, but because he wasn’t ashamed to be holding Eddie’s hand, that… and because it was Steve. Steve… the sweetest guy Eddie had ever met and the guy he had somehow convinced to fall for the local, punk-dork. Steve, who unapologetically brothered kids who had no right being as close to him as they were. Steve, who had broken down and been heartsore over the prospect of not dating Eddie. Eddie. Not dating him….

That had been the first date of many. 

It was snowing in Hawkins today as Eddie breathed hot air onto his hands to warm them. December was here and the town was decorated with Christmas lights as people bustled around the city center: children free from school for winter break and parents stress-shopping for last-minute gifts.

It was only a few days until Christmas and this was going to be the first proper Christmas Eddie was going to experience. 

Wayne had always said they were Jewish, but Eddie had never gone to temple in his life and he didn’t know anything about Hanukkah, really. Eddie wasn’t sure if he hadn’t celebrated Christmas as a kid with his mother or his father for the same reason, or if they just didn’t have the money. 

Either way, Steve celebrated Christmas and Eddie was keen to spend that time with him. It was romantic, and picturesque in a way Eddie would never admit to wanting. 

Steve’s family wasn’t religious, not really, and Eddie hadn’t properly met Steve’s parents yet so Christmas was going to be a bit of a gong-show, but surprisingly Eddie found himself looking forward to it. That and Will had vehemently suggested that Hellfire should do Secret Santa this year. Eddie had drawn Lucas and he had just roped Steve into shopping with him. A good excuse to see him… a good excuse to spend time with his boyfriend. 

Boyfriend. 

Eddie’s stomach flipped as he thought of the word, smiling privately to himself and letting the heat from his own love-sick heart warm him. He was so lame. So ridiculously lame, but Eddie couldn’t think of a time he had been happier. Steve made him so happy. “You planning to freeze?” Eddie glanced up, shaken from his reverence, and somehow managed to smile wider when he saw Steve walking down the sidewalk toward him. Steve was dressed much warmer than he was, smiling with his cheeks stained red from the cold. “Not if you have anything to say about it,” Eddie replied, shuffling toward Steve and sticking his hands out in a claw motion. It was as if they had rehearsed it, because without missing a beat Steve had opened his arms and his coat for Eddie, letting him snuggle in to warm up. “Jesus Christ,” Steve cursed, shivering as he wrapped Eddie up. “Your hands are freezing.” “I couldn’t find my gloves,” Eddie sighed, running his hands up and down Steve’s sweater, already feeling warmer. “Should we buy some?” Steve asked, leaning back just far enough so he could look at Eddie. “No, I’m fine,” Eddie insisted, breaking the hug so they could get moving. “Baby…” Steve insisted. The pet name made Eddie smile and look off to hide his joy a bit. It never got old to hear Steve call him baby. 

Babe. Baby. Angel. Eds. 

“Here,” Steve was saying as Eddie refocused and watched him take off his gloves and try to put them on Eddie’s hands. “Woah, no,” Eddie complained, wriggling his fingers to make it difficult for Steve to put the gloves on. “What about you?” “It’s fine, I’ll just put my hands in my pockets,” Steve insisted, his breath fogging up the air around them. “And I can’t just put my hands in my pockets? How am I supposed to hold your hand with your hands in your pockets?” Eddie asked, not breaking contact with Steve (under no circumstances did he want that), but not making it easy at all for him to put the gloves on. 

“How am I supposed to with you putting your hands in your pockets?” Steve countered, raising a brow at Eddie. Eddie huffed dramatically, before snatching one of the gloves and putting it on. “Keep that one,” he insisted, waiting impatiently for Steve to put his glove on before grabbing his hand as if it was an inconvenience. He over-exaggerated putting his other hand in his pocket before grinning at Steve, absolutely smitten. “We’ll share, come on, Harrington,” Eddie teased, beginning to drag Steve by the hand down the sidewalk. It made Steve laugh slightly; the sound dreamy and affectionate. 

Eddie slowed eventually and tucked into Steve’s side, still holding his hand with the other warmly stuff in his pocket. It was easy to fall into step with Steve, especially as they chatted and window-shopped for Lucas. It felt comfortable and calm in a way Eddie couldn’t describe. It felt perfect, really. It felt perfect to be walking through Hawkins with the first snowfall, debating casually over what gift to buy a friend as he held his boyfriend’s hand.

His boyfriend.

Eddie’s stomach swooped again and he tipped his head onto Steve’s shoulder, soaking in the warmth and the affection and wondering if he had ever been happier in his whole life.

#my_writing #Properly dating boys #imagine Steve in his ugly Christmas sweater from the end of Season 1 Stranger Things #but also a fashionable peacoat cause he a rich bitch modern boy #modern problems modern solutions #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fic

[swabsandcream]

No Ordinary Fan [Part 2]

Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Jeffrey become more involved with one another since their initial encounter.

Warnings: Sexual content (18+), minors dni

A/N: Jeffrey is portrayed as a single man in this fic.

It had been a week since Y/N met her favorite actor for the first time and somehow managed to catch his eye all in one day. It was impossible to describe the barrage of emotions she felt afterwards. She even found herself bursting into a fit of hysterics once she got home that night, jumping around and screaming as if she had won the lottery. It went on for quite some time, and like Jeffrey had promised, he gave her a call that same day. All the way up to this point, their conversations had consisted of them trying to get to know one another. They shared their interests like their taste in music, favorite foods, and even the tv shows they were currently watching. Jeffrey enjoyed talking to Y/N just as much as she liked talking to him, despite their age differences.

Both of them had agreed to keep their relations private, refusing to tell anyone that they’re talking to one another. Jeffrey wanted to keep anything from leaking to the press prematurely, and Y/N didn’t want to be bombarded by his other fans on social media. They were enjoying the talking stage so far, but since Jeffrey had finished up his meet and greets, he decided to take things a step further. After texting Y/N back and forth a couple of times since the day started, he eventually asked her if she would like to come over to his house for dinner that night. Turns out he lived in the country area located right outside of her city which was about an hour away. This would be considered as their first date, so Y/N was feeling indecisive about the matter. Jeffrey assured her that she could decline the offer if she didn’t feel comfortable with it, but after taking a moment to think and consider the possibilities, she decided to join him after all. 

Shortly after accepting the invitation to her dream man’s house, she found herself in front of the bathroom mirror once again for a quick pep-talk. “Ok. You got this. You’re gonna go over his house and treat him like you would treat any other guy. God, it’s been so long since I’ve been on a date. Just breathe, and please don’t be weird.” 

She only had a couple hours to get ready, so she used her time wisely. She showered and shaved in every single place she so much as suspected there might be hair. Then she went to assess her wardrobe, carefully selecting her outfit in accordance with what she feels could possibly happen that night. She wanted to look sexy, but not too provocative to where he may think that she only came over for one thing. She shuffled through her clothes and found a white, long-sleeved dress that draped down to her knees. She hadn’t worn the dress in a while, but it still fit perfectly, and went well with the light makeup she had put on before she headed out to reunite with Jeffrey.

Roughly an hour and thirty minutes later, Y/N arrived at Jeffrey’s multi-million dollar estate in the country. She felt like she was in a movie, having to stop in front of a huge gate and wait until she was granted entry, then pulling in front of the most beautiful mansion she had ever seen. In fact, it was the only mansion she had ever seen up close and in person, being from the city and a part of the working class. She was taking in the view as she got out of her car, and before she could even make it up the stairway, she was greeted by an ecstatic Jeffrey while he stood in the doorway to his home. 

“Welcome! I’m so glad you- oh my.” He paused, watching Y/N as she walked up the stairway and stood right in front of him. “God you’re beautiful.” He said with a soft smile. “I feel like I might be underdressed.”

His outfit was very homey, a plain white t-shirt with black jogging pants. He also had on what’s presumed to be his reading glasses. Y/N had only seen him wearing them occasionally on the internet but seeing him like this in person felt like a dream to her. 

“No, you look good to me.” Y/N’s comment only made Jeffrey’s smile grow wider, his dimples becoming more visible in the process. He then took Y/N by the hand and brought her inside of his expansive house.

As they walked through the foyer, Y/N was captivated by the interior design of his home. Jeffrey on the other hand couldn’t take his eyes off of her, finding amusement in her wide-eyed expression as she continued to look around. As they proceeded through the hallway, they were greeted by two barking dogs, each of them choosing one of the humans’ legs to paw at. 

“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot to tell you about my babies.” 

“Awe they’re so adorable! What are their names?” Y/N asked as she squatted down to pet the overly excited dog in front of her. 

“This is Bandit.” He lifted up and held the dog that stood at his feet. “And that’s Irwin you’ve got right there.” 

Y/N proceeded to introduce herself to his pet and allowed it to give her a couple of kisses before standing back up. Jeffrey took note of how well she handled being around his excitable pets and how much they enjoyed being around her as well. The two then continued down his lengthy hallway, the smell of food growing stronger as they made their way into the kitchen.

"God, that smells amazing! You didn't tell me you were actually going to cook. I thought you might've ordered takeout or something." Y/N went straight for the sink to thoroughly wash her hands, Jeffrey following behind her as he lowered his dog back onto the wooden floor.

"Suprise, suprise!" His voice was cheerful as he took his turn at the sink. "It's already done, I put it on the table and everything." He finished washing his hands and guided Y/N over to the dining room next to them. He had a long, rectangular dining room table made of marble. On it were two plates of a meal that the two of them mutually enjoyed, along with two stemmed glasses of white wine. The effort and the time he spent putting this together did not go unrecognized by Y/N, referring to him as a true gentleman that knows how to treat a lady.

The two sat across from each other and began to enjoy their delicious meal. They had a detailed conversation about his memories of playing Negan and the on set shenanigans, especially with his good friend Norman Reedus. Y/N didn’t have nearly as many interesting personal stories to share, but Jeffrey listened intently regardless. She particularly loved the way he looked at her whenever she was speaking, like she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Although they had finished having dinner, they continued to talk while sitting at the table.

“Perfect.” He muttered, keeping his gaze on her as she told a story about a funny moment she had at work. She cut her story short, not quite hearing what he had said.

“What did you say?” She asked. 

“I said you’re perfect. Everything about you. You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.” Jeffrey’s voice was deep and sultry, sending chills down Y/N’s spine as she finished her glass of wine. She didn’t have time to respond before Jeffrey got up out of his chair and made his way over to her on the other side of the table. He stood behind her and gently placed his large hands onto her shoulders, leaning down to whisper into her ear. 

 “Come with me. I want to show you something.” His seductive tone combined with the grip he had on her shoulders was a lot for Y/N to bear at the moment. She could feel a buzz coming on from the wine she drank, along with the growing arousal in between her thighs. He took his hands off of her and allowed his lips to brush against her ear as he stood straight up, stepping back from his date’s chair. With no hesitation, she stood up and took his hand as they made their way out of the dining room and into the movie theater he had built inside his home.

She gasped at the sight of the massive screen surrounded by an extra-long sofa that extended from one side of the room to the other. After listening to how much she loves watching films and tv shows, he knew that this room would be her favorite room of them all. He brought her over to the sofa, and they sat down next to each other, leaving a small space in between them. Y/N started lightly bouncing on the sofa with the intent to further entice the man beside her.

"Hmm comfy. Good for...a lot of things." Y/N's flirtatious behavior was definitely working at this point as Jeffrey's lips slowly curled up into a sinful smile.

"A lot of things like what exactly? Could you be more specific?" He placed a hand on her thigh, being covered by her dress, slowly rubbing it with his thumb.

Without a second thought, Y/N grabbed his hand and slid it underneath her dress, allowing his fingers to travel up the bare skin of her thigh. He exhaled deeply, taking in the feeling of her warm and delicate skin all the way up to the dampened cloth covering her warmth. Jeffrey used his free hand to adjust the protruding bulge in his pants, leaning in so close to her face that their noses were touching. She didn't say a word, allowing her unstable breathing to speak for itself.

"Tell me you want this." He whispered.

"I want this." She cooed, granting him permission to press his lips onto hers. From there, the two lovers were entangled with one another on the massive sofa with nothing but the sounds of their acts of pleasure.

#jeffrey dean morgan x reader #jeffrey dean morgan fanfiction #jeffreydeanmorgan #jeffrey dean morgan #jdm

[slasherscream]

Can you do some more until dawn characters (yandere please) like you’re trying on clothes at the mall and ask their opinion?

YANDERE UNTIL DAWN CHARACTERS + READER IS TRYING ON CLOTHES

A/N: thank you for reading my until dawn content! it's such a small fandom these days, comments/reblogs/anon reviews/asks are appreciated as they let me know people are still reading these. 

- Josh has an excellent eye for aesthetics. He may not know all the words/names for the types of clothes you look good in but he recognizes them right away. He’ll try and describe something you should get, give up, wander off, then come back with examples of what he meant while you’re in the dressing room. If the shopping trip is under four hours he can remain locked in the entire time. This is the strength of will and character that comes with being the big brother to two little sisters who got his driving license first. He’s spent entire lifetimes at the mall hyping up the twins. He knows what to do. Overall helpfulness: 8/10.

- Sam loves spending quality time with you. Quality time is one of her preferred love languages, in fact. She picks you up for your shopping day with your favorite coffee shop order in hand, from the best place in town. She’s good with little details like that. You can always count on her to give you her honest opinion on what you pick out. She’s gentle about it, but she’ll never let you wear something she thinks is unflattering. She’s also mindful of waste consumption. With Sam’s help you wind up picking things you love, are comfortable wearing, and that you’ll actually use. Not a penny wasted, no matter how much you spend. Overall helpfulness: 10/10. 

- Chris could not possibly, in any version of reality, fix his mouth to give you a criticism about any of your choices. Let alone choices about how you will go about decorating your body. He’s lucky he gets to look at you. It’s an honor! Thank you for honoring him! Every time you step out of the dressing room you will get the exact same answer, very enthusiastically, in the same tone: “That looks GREAT, babe!” You’ll be ready to kill him thirty minutes in. Absolutely worthless feedback. You’ll have to get help from the salespeople who work there for opinions. If you want a ‘yes man’ this is your guy! Overall helpfulness: 3/10. 

Hannah is another sap. She’s more helpful than Chris, but only by the slightest margin. If something doesn’t look good she’ll be able to stutter her way around to it…. eventually. She’s nearly petrified at the thought of upsetting you. Never-mind the fact that you’ve asked her how the top looks on you five times now. “Well…. I mean… how do YOU think it looks, Y/N?” As if you’d be asking if you could come up with an opinion yourself. You’ll wind up leaving with only a few items. You’ll have to come back with a friend in a few days. You may need a new wardrobe, but if you need help picking it out, you’ll need a different set of eyes. Overall helpfulness: 4/10.

- Emily is going to be honest to the point that, yes, it will hurt your feelings a little… if you’re lucky. Mileage may vary. If you’re particularly sensitive she’ll hurt your feelings a lot. But god forbid you start trying to take someone nicer shopping with you. She’ll throw the hissy fit of the century when she finds out. Yes, when, and not if. Emily manages to find out everything you try to keep from her. Everything. On one hand you’ll wind up looking the best you’ve ever looked. Your entire wardrobe suits you perfectly. She even buys/picks out things that you’ll like, in your style, even if she finds the style personally distasteful. That’s how much she loves you. It just has to suit you, or else she will say something, and the way she says it is never very nice. You’ll look incredible, but at what cost to your mental health? Overall helpfulness: 8/10. 

- Mike isn't very enthusiastic about the activity, but likes the good boyfriend points it garners him. Thus, he will come along whenever you bid him to do so. He’s only got about two and a half hours of shopping in him though, so try and have an idea of what you want to get in your mind. Before you arrive at the stores, please. If you take a long lunch break he can go back for another two hours but this is his hard limit. Knows well enough what you already look good in. Or when something looks downright awful on you. He does struggle a little to help if you’re wanting to try a completely new style. He’s as lost as you. The more underground/alternative/particular the style you want to try is, the worse the advice gets. If you’re just doing a wardrobe refresher this is your man. Overall helpfulness: 6/10. 

- Beth makes shopping relaxing. You’ll stay as long as you need in order to get everything you need. She probably had you make a Pinterest board before you guys went out so that you’d be able to refer back to it. She knows getting into the stores can wipe your mind clean of what you needed/wanted to get. She’ll have you guys stop for lunch as well, but then you’re right back at it! She likes seeing your style evolve and change. Her feedback is honest, but gentle. It won’t ever feel like a criticism of your body, just the clothing. You walk out satisfied and always happier than when you came in together. Overall helpfulness: 10/10. 

- Jessica is in her element here. Honestly, Jessica drags you shopping with her more than you’ll ever drag her shopping. Spending time together means a lot to Jessica. She never takes it for granted. Thus, she always tries to make any activity, but especially repeat ones like shopping, fun. She probably has a shopping playlist she made for the two of you. You both wear one wireless earbud and get to movie montage with each other. Watch out if the Princess Diaries songs or something Hip-hop comes on, she’ll start dancing to make you laugh. Her feedback is upbeat and positive, but honest. She hypes you up like crazy when you come out wearing something that makes you look really hot! Wolf whistles and everything, your face will be burning up as you flee back into the safety of the dressing room. “Baby, come back! You look smoking!” Overall helpfulness: 9/10. 

- Matt knows absolutely nothing about fashion. He tries his very best to help, but he’s at a loss. Only if something very obviously doesn’t suit you will he be able to veto it for you. “I dunno… maybe it’s a little awkward in the arms or…. something?” You’ll have to take a few breaths. However, if something looks good, he can absolutely be a hype man! His eyes light up, he takes your hand, makes you do a spin. All the attention is enough to make you kick your feet and giggle. He can compliment you all day long. To his credit, he can compliment you specifically enough on what looks good. Even if it’s still a little vague. “The color of this makes you look really… wow! You know?” You’ll be able to figure out he means jewel tones make your skin look glowy one of these days. For now, at least you know your boyfriend thinks you’re gorgeous no matter what you wear. Overall helpfulness: 5/10.

#josh washington x reader #mike munroe x reader #sam giddings x reader #emily davis x reader #matt taylor x reader #chris hartley x reader #beth #hannah washington x reader #jessica riley x reader #yandere until dawn #until dawn #until dawn imagines #josh wasington imagine #black!reader