vritest

[vritest]

Saw that someone said Luigi’s Reddit had a post where he eluded to a pretty heavy drinking habit in college, which then makes me think about drunk ex!luigi. I’m sorry, but you write angst too well

Unlearn Me — { Luigi x Reader}

Content: SFW, angst, yearning, slight pining, mentions of canon back pain, ex’s reminiscing, heartbreak all over again.

W.c: 4,336 (holy shit)

Notes; Two semesters of carefully crafted distance crumbles at 3AM in the computer lab when your final project implodes hours before the deadline, leaving you with no choice but to seek help from the one person you've been avoiding since the breakup.

Before we continue, I cannot ignore that wildfires continue to ravage Los Angeles, countless families have lost their homes and livelihoods. I urge you to consider supporting those affected through any of these donation links, additionally, Roadogs on Instagram is looking for fosters for mass evacuations of shelter dogs in California.

Foster or donate if you can. xo.

Now, let’s go.

"Mother fucker," you curse, attacking your keyboard with increasingly desperate keystrokes.

Each combination might be the one to salvage this disaster, but deep down you know it's hopeless — your software has corrupted itself into oblivion, taking six months of work with it.

"You can ask for an extension," Emma suggests, her voice carrying the weight of exhaustion that matches your own. Your roommate had burst into the media center still wearing her pink silk pajamas, immediately launching into a nervous tirade about after-hours permissions and potential expulsion risks.

Her constant hovering and worrying grates on your last nerve, and you tell her to leave.

Predictably, she refuses.

"Listen, I'm not just gonna leave you here on your own." She leans across your workspace, her body pressing against your laptop screen until it tilts halfway closed. You freeze, fingers suspended above the keys, terrified of losing what little progress you've made in this digital archaeology expedition. "There's - like - a murderer on campus."

"One girl said she was followed home," you gently remind. Under normal circumstances, Emma's mother-hen routine would be endearing — charming, even. But right now, with your project in shambles and deadline looming, her protective hovering feels suffocating. "Not murdered, Em."

"May as well have been." Emma fixes you with that look — the one that screams why am I the only rational person here? While her nails tap nervously against your desk. "Probably hasn't left her room since. And you know what? Smart girl.”

You scrub your hands over your face, your eyes fixed on the projector's word vomit — an endless stream of error messages and unintelligible code painting the drywall from a tired projector like some twisted modern art piece.

Not exactly what you were going for.

Emma stands mesmerized, "How did you even do this?" She watches the cryptic display crawl across the wall, her eyes tracking each line as if she could decode it. "This reminds me of-" she catches herself, the name hanging unspoken between you. She's learned that lesson the hard way. "This is wild.”

You can't help but notice.

Notice how she almost speaks his name, how these meaningless strings of letters and numbers somehow bridge the gap to memories you've tried so hard to bury — promises whispered under star-sprinkled skies, fingers intertwined beneath the cosmic glow.

Moments that felt eternal then, ephemeral now.

Your gaze drifts to your phone, lying face-down like a surrender.

You blink several times, trying to clear the ghosts from your vision before speaking, your voice emerging barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves might shatter something in the air, "Should I text him?" You ask, offering the idea as if it was something too controversial to be spoken aloud.

Emma shifts her weight, both from exhaustion and the sudden weight of responsibility.

Your night's trajectory now rests in her hands — she who has witnessed every shade of you, from triumph to devastation. Her own memories of him surface: the way he'd raid her ice cream stash only to replace it with a premium pint the next day, how he'd tackle the dish mountain without prompting, those small gestures that made him feel like family.

"He was my favorite boyfriend of yours," she'd told you once, in a moment of wine-honest conversation. "He was a good boy."

A good boy who made a couple mistakes.

But those mistakes had compounded like interest on a debt you never agreed to pay, until the rift between you and Luigi widened into an ocean.

Everything good had been pulled out with the tide — your trust, your shared future — swept away to depths where no light could reach.

"I-" Emma's hand finds the back of her neck, her expression cycling through a slideshow of conflicted emotions. You can see her internal struggle; the desire to crawl into her bed warring with her loyalty to you. And she knows you well enough to realize you'd stay here until sunrise if necessary. "I mean — babe, I love you, but you can't fix this." The admission seems to pain her, as if acknowledging your limitations feels like betrayal. "We aren't techies."

You stare helplessly at your gutted gallery, stripped bare by your own accidental digital vandalism. Your artwork, your portfolio, your future — all reduced to incomprehensible strings of code projected onto an indifferent wall.

"Do you think he'd come?" The question escapes before you can stop it, your eyes magnetized to your phone as if your stare alone could resurrect that old text thread, buried beneath months of careful silence.

"Of course he would."

A soft, defeated whine escapes you as you turn back to glare at your corrupted work, as if you could intimidate it into fixing itself through sheer force of will.

Emma's voice softens, "Hey, he's mature enough to understand you've exhausted your options."

A violent shudder runs through you at the thought of Luigi being your last resort.

You'd managed to exile the visceral memories — the heated arguments that left you gasping for air, the promises that turned to vapor in the morning light.

"Which are?"

Emma looks down at her Pokemon-clad self, then back at you. "Me." She gestures vaguely in your direction, "and you."

The campus sleeps around you, everyone else lost to their dreams or late-night calls home. Just the two of you remain, trapped in this dimly-lit purgatory on a Wednesday night, while error messages mock your existence with their endless scroll.

"Slim pickin's," you mutter as your fingers betray you, finding Luigi's contact with muscle memory that refuses to die.

How many times had you pressed these same digits before?

But this is different.

Different because you haven't spoken since that night in your kitchen, when you stood with your back to him, voice steady despite the trembling in your hands, "So, we aren't going to try to figure this out?" You asked, and he’d responded with some pretentious comparison about your relationship being like corrupted code, fundamentally flawed, destined to fail its own quality test.

The irony isn't lost on you — the very metaphor he used to end things is now the thread that might pull you back into his orbit. Your only connection besides the elaborate dance of avoidance across campus, treating each other's paths like holy ground neither dares to tread.

Opening the thread, you're greeted by your last exchange — your final words to him blazing across the screen in angry blue bubbles: "I want my fucking shit back or I'll make your life a living hell." Such poetry. Your new message hovers in the text box, simpler, desperate in its brevity.

Hey need help with somethin. U up??

You thrust your phone at Emma like it's burning your fingers, watching her eyes widen as they catch on those months-old texts — digital artifacts of your rage that should have been scrubbed before tonight's desperate plea. "Jesus," she whispers, amusement dancing in her expression. "I'd still be licking my wounds if I were hi-"

The familiar buzz cuts through the air, a notification chime that once made your heart leap but now makes it sink.

"What'd he say?" You mumble, gaze fixed on the mocking projection that bathes the room in its sickly digital glow, code continuing its relentless march across the wall.

Emma settles into a chair, hunching over your laptop's makeshift altar. "Said he's at Ruddy's." She squints at a fresh message. "He said 'what do you want?'" She deepens her voice into a cartoonish baritone, making him sound like a caveman discovering text messaging for the first time.

You can't blame him for the cold response — you’d scorched that earth thoroughly.

But a selfish part of you wants to delete the whole exchange, pretend this moment of weakness never happened, go back to the careful choreography of avoiding each other's existence.

But you can't.

The corrupted gallery looming on the wall is a stark reminder that pride is a luxury you can't afford right now.

His icy reception is the natural consequence of your scorched-earth campaign, those venom-laced messages sent in the throes of heartbreak and confusion.

You'd played the role of the woman scorned perfectly, even though you'd written your own tragic script.

"Just send him a picture." You wave listlessly at the wall, where your work continues its digital decomposition, folding in on itself like a dying star. The error messages stretch into an endless serpent of nonsense, each iteration making less sense than the last.

The artificial shutter sound of Emma's photo breaks the silence, followed by the soft swoosh of sending. The wait feels eternal until-

Ding

Emma's attention snaps to your phone resting on her thigh, her eyes widening. "He's typing like he-"

Sorry;m,, I’m fucked uo

Up

I am

fucked up

Emma clicks her tongue and rises, crossing the room to lob your phone into your lap, screen up. "Guess some things don't change." You manage a weak half-grin, memories flooding back unbidden — Luigi stumbling into your dorm in the small hours, wrapped in whiskeys warmth, all soft edges and desperate hands.

"Well, make up your mind." Emma's yawn threatens to unhinge her jaw, arms wrapping around herself like armor. "Are we done here, or are you gonna have him come take a look?"

I’n be there son

I’ll be rherw soo

I’ll be there soon

You stand to wrap your arms around Emma’s shoulders who reluctantly curves her arms upward to squeeze your shoulders. “Go home.” She seems reluctant to listen, staring at your phone screen as if it would take her home itself. “I promise, I’ll be just fine.”

The space between you pulses with that unique warmth reserved for someone who shares your roof, your darkest secrets, and the monthly struggle with Con Edison. "Just don't make any brash decisions."

"Oh, Em." You press a kiss to her forehead. "You think I'm so much cooler than I am."

Emma's laugh follows her as she spins toward the door, collecting pieces of herself like breadcrumbs — the scarf draped over a chair, the coat hung forgotten, the backpack abandoned when the day still held promise.

Each item a marker of how long this digital nightmare has stretched, from sunshine to moonlight.

And as if summoned by cosmic irony, the lab door swings open to reveal Luigi. "Oh - hey, E." The surprise flickers across his face before he schools his features back to neutral.

"Hey, Lu." Her greeting carries the easy familiarity of their old routine, like NPCs in a cozy game exchanging preset dialogue, their paths crossing exactly as programmed.

"You g'na help me with this?"

Emma shakes her head, patting his shoulder as she passes — a gentle handoff. "I did my time." You want to protest, but words fail as you absorb the sight of him, eight months of careful avoidance crumbling in an instant.

"Ahh-" Luigi waves, feigning disappointment through the druken haze. "Need a walk back home?"

Ever the shepherd, guardian of late-night wanderers.

It didn't matter who you were — friend, stranger, ex-lover’s best friend and roommate — his self-appointed mission to ensure everyone's safe return never wavered.

You'd once wondered if it stemmed from some deeper anxiety, his mind unable to rest until every sheep was accounted for in its fold.

Tonight though, the alcohol has mercifully dulled that protective instinct. Emma's potential disappearance into the night ranks lower on his list of concerns than usual, although Emma herself had been the one earlier to warn you of the murderer on campus.

"You still got my location," Emma reminds him — a callback to conversations past, to the day she'd granted Luigi permanent access to her whereabouts, a level of trust you'd wisely withheld.

"Right."

She presses a kiss to her fingers, flashing you a peace sign with the same hand before it briefly lands on Luigi's shoulder. Then she's gone, disappearing into the snow-globe world he'd just stumbled in from. He stands before you now, arms hanging like dead weight, his eyes somehow both wide and narrow.

"Hey," you whisper.

"Hey."

You gesture weakly at the wall where your work writhes in digital agony. "So, uh — remember that time you salvaged Professor Wren’s entire thesis when her drive crashed?"

Luigi's eyes follow your hand, professional interest temporarily overriding the awkwardness. He steps closer, squinting at the corrupted display, "Jesus," he mutters, "what did you do to it?"

"Would you believe me if I said nothing?" The laugh that escapes is more nervous than you'd like. "It just. - it started disintegrating during final checks."

He's already pulling out his laptop, muscle memory from countless late-night tech rescues. The familiarity of it hits you in the chest — how many times had you watched him do this same thing, hunched over his keyboard, bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration?

"I can try," he says finally, not quite meeting your eyes. "But no promises. When's this due?"

"Tomorrow at nine."

"Of course it is." He drops into the chair beside you, close enough that your elbows almost touch, but enough of a distance to still feel far away. “Okay, walk me through what it's supposed to look like when it's not — uh - whatever this is."

For a moment, Luigi stares at the corrupted display where red pixels bleed and stutter across the wall. His fingers hover over his keyboard, then pause. "Wait. This is your circulatory modeling project? The one you were-“ He cuts himself off, remembering this was before the eight months of silence.

"Yeah." You swallow. "It was working perfectly until an hour ago. Real-time hemodynamics, pressure differentials, vessel elasticity. Everything." Your voice cracks slightly on the last word, feeling more helpless when you verbalize it.

He nods, already typing with uncanny precision despite the slight sway in his posture. "Show me the base code. Did you save any backups?"

"Three. All corrupted." You lean forward, careful not to crowd him as you pull up the mangled files. "It's like something got into the core simulation and just - I dunno - started rewriting them."

"Hm." His eyes scan the screen with that laser focus he somehow maintains no matter how much he drinks, that familiar furrow appearing between his brows. "These values are cascading. One corrupted variable triggering a chain reaction through the whole system." He glances at you, slightly overshooting before correcting. "When's the last time it ran correctly?"

You check your phone. "6:43 PM. I have a screen recording from then."

"Good. That's good." He pulls up a second window, his typing still flawless even as he reaches with his free hand to steady himself against the desk. "We can compare the execution logs, maybe isolate where it started going wrong." His fingers fly across the keys with a precision that seems to mock his clearly inebriated state, and for a moment, it feels like those eight months never happened. "I'm going to need coffee for this." He looks up at you from where he sat, “Or more booze.”

You land on coffee, your feet carrying you down the familiar path to the kitchenette.

The fluorescent lights flicker dimly at this hour, casting strange shadows across the linoleum, the lab's overpriced espresso machine hums to life under your touch, its gentle whirring a counterpoint to the distant sound of Luigi's typing.

Suddenly you're back in that first year, both of you hunched over at 3 AM, him teaching you the proper way to pull a shot: “You're murdering it, stop torturing the beans”, your quiet laughter echoing through empty halls.

"Got it.” His voice carries down the corridor, slurred but triumphant, snapping you back to present.

You return to find him illuminated by screen-glow, his tie loosened and dark hair disheveled. The paper cup lands in front of him — double shot, one packet of raw sugar.

He doesn't stir it, never has.

Instead, he tips the cup back, and you hear that familiar crunch of sugar crystals between his teeth, a sound that used to drive you crazy, until somewhere along the way it became endearing.

Still, the jumbled code taunts you from the screen, though its chaos seems less threatening now. Under Luigi's touch — steady despite the alcohol —- your final project is slowly remembering its original shape.

"You should have texted sooner," Luigi murmurs, tilting his head back to collect the last sugar crystals from his cup. The movement exposes his throat, his collar wrinkled where he's been tugging at it all night.

"Well," you say, watching the way his fingers dance across the keys, each stroke precise despite his obvious intoxication, "takes a minute to swallow something as big as my ego."

The corners of his mouth twitch upward, eyes never leaving the screen where broken code is knitting itself back together under his attention.

"Oh," he huffs out a laugh, the sound low and dangerous in the quiet lab, "I've seen you swallow far bigger things before."

It strikes like summer lightning — quick, bright, and leaving the air charged in its wake. The innuendo lands with no real bite, yet you find your jaw slack, a startled laugh shaking loose from your chest.

"Kidding," Luigi says, his eyes flicking from screen to you and back again. There’s a ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, softened by the alcohol but still sharp enough to cut. You wave him back to his work, grateful for the blue glow of monitors that hides your flush. "You kinda set that up perfectly, though."

He squints up at the projection where your broken code still bleeds across the wall, letting out a soft grunt of frustration at some digital roadblock. "Just mean — ya know, you could have caught me two beers deep instead of seven."

You shrug a shoulder, watching as the projection slowly crystallizes into something recognizable. "Seems you work better under such conditions."

The lie tastes metallic.

You both know the truth.

Luigi would have come if he was sober as sunrise or drowning in bourbon. Would have come with broken ribs or pneumonia or his heart barely beating. Would have traced these familiar hallways blind, deaf, or dying — because that's what the two of you do.

Have always done.

You've seen him at rock bottom, curled into himself on cold bathroom tiles at midnight, trembling hands pressed against his mouth as if he could physically hold back the pain that wracked his body. Watched him try to explain to puzzled doctors how someone so young could hurt so constantly, the frustration in his voice when they suggested it was all in his head.

You were there through the trials of medications, the nights when existence itself seemed too heavy to bear.

And you've seen him soar; standing tall in that charcoal suit that made him look older, more polished, shaking hands with tech giants who saw in him what you'd always known was there, his future spreading out before him like a golden road, brilliant and boundless.

Now he sits here, seven drinks deep but coding like he's never been clearer, and you realize that maybe both versions are equally true.

Maybe that's what makes him Luigi — the ability to contain multitudes, to be simultaneously broken and brilliant, wounded and wonderful.

He catches you watching him and raises an eyebrow, the gesture slightly delayed, which means you must have been a bit too obvious. "What?"

"Nothing.”

His fingers pause on the keys, and even through the alcoholic haze, his gaze pins you like a butterfly to cork. "No, really. What?" The words have a slight blur around their edges, but his focus is knife-sharp.

You could deflect again, but there's something about 4 AM and code that glows like dying stars that makes honesty feel less dangerous, perhaps you’re finding comfort in the fact that Luigi is drunk, although you’re stone cold sober.

"Just thinking about that time in the Thompson building bathroom." Your voice comes out softer than intended. "When you couldn't stand up, and I had to convince the janitor you had food poisoning."

He doesn't flinch from the memory like he used to.

Instead, his mouth curves into something caught between a smile and a grimace. "You told him it was from the cafeteria." His fingers resume their dance across the keyboard, but slower now. "Got the whole place investigated by health services."

"Yeah, but got us three days off while they checked fucking everything.” you remind him.

"Got me through that week," he corrects quietly, and for a moment, the mask of that brilliant-drunk-techie slips, showing the man underneath who still remembers what it feels like to be held together by nothing but someone else's faith in you.

Then he blinks, and the vulnerability is gone, replaced by that familiar crooked grin. "Though I maintain the cafeteria deserved the inspection anyway."

The projection flickers, another section of code healing itself under his touch, and you wonder if he knows you'd do it all again.

Every bathroom floor, every late-night crisis, every moment of putting him back together - you'd choose it every time.

"Speaking of which," you venture carefully, watching his hands move across the keyboard. "How's the new treatment working?"

His right shoulder shifts in what might be a shrug, but there's a shadow of a real smile playing at his mouth.

Not the sharp, defensive one he wears like armor, but something softer, more genuine. "Six months post-op and I actually slept through the night last week. First time in -“ he pauses, considering, "Fuck, I don't even remember how long."

The admission hangs in the air between you, weighted with the two years of 2 AM phone calls, of nights spent pacing, of pain medications that never quite touched the core of the problem.

Watching him try to code through hands that wouldn't stop shaking.

"Still hurts sometimes," he adds, almost absently. "But it's different now. More like background noise than a scream." His fingers still on the keyboard, and for a moment he looks almost surprised by his own words. "Guess that's what normal people feel like all the time, huh?"

The question carries an edge of wonder, like someone who's lived in darkness suddenly discovering dawn.

You watch him roll his shoulder — a gesture that used to be followed by a wince but now flows smooth and unconscious — and think about how strange it must be, learning to live without constant pain after it's become part of your identity.

"Though I kind of miss having an excuse to drunk-code at 4 AM" he adds, but you both know it's a lie.

The code blurs on the projection as silence settles between you, charged with something that's been building for ages — through bathroom floors and hospital visits, through triumphs and failures, through pain and healing.

The alcohol has stripped away Luigi’s careful boundaries, leaving raw honesty in their place.

"You know," Luigi says slowly, finally turning from the screen to face you fully, "I never thanked you properly. For all of it."

"You don't need to-"

Your diagram pulses back to life, the holographic heart rotating lazily against the wall.

Its red glow bathes the room in a surreal warmth, catching on the sharp angles of Luigi's face, softening them into something almost dreamlike.

The light flickers across his cheekbones, turns his eyes to amber, makes the whole moment feel suspended between reality and imagination.

"I do." His voice is quiet but firm, steadier than someone seven drinks deep should manage. "Because I've been thinking — now that I can actually think clearly without-“he gestures vaguely at his back, at all the years of pain, "I've been thinking about how you're the only constant. The only person who never-“ He trails off.

You lean a little closer, drawn by the vulnerability in his voice. "Never what?"

"Never saw me as broken." He turns himself toward you, and there's something desperate in his eyes, something the alcohol has finally given him the courage to show. "Never treated me like I needed fixing. Just stayed. Through everything."

Your lips part, but the words catch in your throat. He takes your silence as a sign, turning back to the screen with a sharp exhale that might be resignation or relief — you're not sure which would be worse.

"Lu,” you say softly, and something in your voice makes his fingers still on the keyboard. "Look at me."

He does, slowly, like he's afraid of what he might find.

The neon bathes half his face in crimson, leaving the other half in shadow, and you see the moment his carefully constructed walls start to crumble.

"Time hasn’t changed that much about me.” you say, each word deliberate, heavy with meaning.

His breath catches audibly. You watch the impact of your words ripple across his face — surprise, understanding, and something else, something that makes your heart race against your ribs.

"Hasn’t it?” Luigi is focusing on you now, the reason he really came here now practically completed but pushed aside until further notice. “Eight months is a long time to hold onto -“ he gestures vaguely between you, as if he can’t quite say what it was. Hopeless devotion, the right person, wrong time.

“Not long enough to forget.”

“Forget what?”

“You.”

His breath catches again, a sharp inhale that seems to pull all the oxygen from the room. When he speaks, his voice is rough and ragged, “Maybe that’s the problem.” His gaze drifts down to watch as you lick your lips, and back up again. “Maybe you should have.”

[vritest]

I absolutely love behind calculations and serendipity and would be so very grateful if you made a pt.2. Your writing is captivating and I look forward to any updates on the book!

Ahhh ty!! Currently in the process of writing part two. I’m hoping to finish it by Monday!!

[vritest]

Haven’t written in a while but a certain person is really provoking me into wanting to write again. Don’t know if people would be interested in reading and the fact that it kind of feels like a violation to write about said person 😭

[vritest]

Leon Kennedy in Resident Evil: Death Island (2023)

Requested by anonymous.

[vritest]

Wow this is amazing

never penelope, always calypso

pairing: leon x reader

cw: infidelity?, p in v, alcohol usage, oral sex, angst, smut, possible misuse of words, questionable metaphors, allusions to the odyssey (i'm cringe), pseudo-poetic nonsense

summary: leon is married to ashley and they have an open relationship. you become fwbs when he visits dc. accidental feelings happen

a/n: the title is a reference to the odyssey (no discourse/analyses allowed on this post!!)

wc: 5.5k

taglist: @rigorwhoring @porcelainseashore @mrswint3rs @dilfprayers @pawrincss

link to join taglist in bio! link to commissions & ko-fi in bio! link to ao3 in bio!

Winter 2012

You first meet Leon at a bar near your apartment. Outside, it's freezing, yet you order your drink on the rocks. Drunkenness makes your cheeks match your ears, rosy and slightly numb to the cold. 

It’s been a rough day for you and the way Leon’s head hangs as he looks blankly into his glass - half-empty - lets you know that he’s in the same boat. He’s got blonde-ish hair, icy blue eyes, and a hint of a five o’clock shadow. His voice, low and tired, holds a sympathetic chagrin, subtle and genuine. He must feel your eyes on him because he picks himself up as best he can and smiles at you.

He’s not drunk. Neither are you, only tipsy.

“Hi,” you say because you’re not good with pickup lines.

“Hey. How’s it goin’?”

“It’s goin’,” you say because it’s the best way you can tell the truth without being too much of a downer.

“Not great, huh?”

“A complete shitshow if I’m being honest.”

“I can relate.” He thrusts his right hand out and you take it. His palm is calloused with a life much rougher than you’ll ever know. “I’m Leon.”

You tell him your name and he releases your hand from his grasp. 

You recount your disastrous day and he laughs at all the right times and keeps his smile sympathetic for the rest of your story. He doesn’t say much about himself, and the next morning you worry you were venting, but you come to find over the years that he prefers to listen rather than to talk. He has unparalleled patience. He’s not like other guys. You’re just like other girls.

The one time he speaks over you is to insist to the bartender that he is paying for your drinks too when he asks to close his tab.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

He grabs his wallet from his back pocket and you notice on his left hand, a wedding band. It was all just friendly conversation, you realize. Your smile drops and you don’t have time to pick it back up before he turns to you.

“What’s up?” He asks. 

“Nothing.” You give him a fake smile.

“You sure?” He probes you with minimal force. His questions never make you feel like you’re being interrogated, strapped to a metal chair despite the fact that a gun sits on his hip; not like an interview either with bright lights an audience; more like a surgery, penetrating, tearing and mending your organs while you’re numbed by alcoholic anesthetic.

“Mhm,” You respond. You are already falling into a dreamless sleep, breathing, but comatose. 

“Okay. Do you live close? We could split a cab.” He places his hand on the small of your back and whispers while you walk to the exit, “Unless you want to come back with me to my hotel.” You look at him, almost angry for her – the woman you don’t know – and yet, still wanting. He removes his hand quickly. “Whoa. I’m sorry. I clearly misunderstood the situation. I thought we were having a flirtatious conversation and that it was heading that direction. I apologize for overstepping your boundaries.”

“No, I was flirting, but…” You point to his left hand. “You’re married.” There is a part of you that is already willing. You’re his puppet, his ragdoll, willing.

“Oh, yeah,” Leon says with a smile, thinking of her. He holds up his hand, proudly displaying his wedding band. “I am married, but we have an open relationship.” He sounds so honest you’re tempted to believe him. But, there is still a sliver of your consciousness left.

“Prove it. I don’t want to be involved with a cheater.”

“Prove it? Alright. Would you like me to text her and ask if I can invite you back to my hotel room?”

“Sure.”

You don’t think he’ll do it, but he does. Her name in his phone has a heart next to it. You notice it when he shows you her response: Have a nice time :).

He calls her ‘baby’.

He calls you a lot of things during the act, but mostly your name once it’s over.

He calls you ‘gorgeous’ as in, “You look fucking gorgeous like that” When he looks into your eyes from above you. You’re on your knees with his cock down your throat while his hand holds your hair in a makeshift ponytail. You look gorgeous if gorgeous means messy - the mascara that was already smudged when you entered the bar mixes with tears and drips down your face. You look like a canvas drenched with paint water. Filthy and accidental. And in an abstract way, something that could be conceived as beautiful in the eyes of a downright horny beholder. 

Leon holds your wrists above your head when he fucks you. His grip is firm just like yours is around his cock, though it’s not your intention. In fact, you want more of him, all of him.  

He calls you ‘darlin’ as in,“Darlin’, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. I’m not gonna last like this.” When you’re on all fours and he’s feeding himself to you from behind. One of his hands guides his cock to your entrance while the other holds your hip – that one continues to steady you while he’s fucking you at a merciless pace. With the other, he runs his fingers through his hair – you can see him in the mirror, sweat beading on his forehead.

He calls you ‘babe’ as in, “C’mere, babe.” When he beckons you towards him, lying in bed with his head propped up enough to see you. “Want you to sit on my face”. When you comply and sit on his face, your thighs drown out his words but the noises he makes reverberate through your entire body. Much to Leon’s dismay, it’s the last orgasm you can handle that night. (You have to walk home tomorrow, right?) 

There is a distinct difference between babe and baby. The difference being that he calls you one and his wife the other.

That first night, you go for three rounds, only stopping because Leon ran out of condoms and neither of you feel like going to the pharmacy to buy more. At least, not until the next day.

The next morning when his alarm rings, you grab his phone from the bedside table and hand it to him. You catch a glimpse of his lockscreen. It’s him with a woman. “Is that her?”

“My wife? Yeah.” He hands you the phone and lets you see her. She’s beautiful. More so than you. You understand why she lets him do this. And why he shows her off with no hesitation and a prideful grin. You’d brag about her too.

You imagine their first date, their wedding, the sex they have in their home that they share, and every other thing while Leon makes a trip to the drugstore across the street.

“Sorry I took so long,” he says when he climbs back into bed, “there was a long line at the checkout.”

It’s okay, you think, you gave me time to decide that it’s better if I leave now.

And yet, the second he lies down next to you, your decision changes. The prospect of lazy morning sex with Leon is too beautiful to resist. Even in retrospect, if it were purely about the sex, you wouldn’t regret any of it, it was even better than you imagined it would be. 

When he takes the blue box from the plastic shopping bag and jiggles it in front of you, playfully asking the question, you nod. None of this requires words. 

You sit up in bed, closing the gap between you and your objective, but he stops you. “Don’t get up. I’ll come there.”

He’s quiet despite the room being empty of sleeping children and nosy parents. The hustle and bustle of the city on Saturday morning covers up any sound. His wife knows anyway and she’s 1000 miles away. It’s for the sake of your ears, still acclimating to the ceaseless knocking at your eardrums that comes with being alive. He moves slowly, spreads your legs for you, removes your panties - the boring beige pair you wore to work the day before. He runs his hand over your folds like he’s petting a stray animal, getting you to ease up and let him in. Two fingers mold you to his liking. He fits you for himself despite being taken. He feeds your desire and sets you free when he’s finished. (You’ve finished too, so it’s not cruel, is it?). 

He steps into the shower alone.  

If getting some more material for your spank bank was your goal, then you accomplished it. Not just the sex but the sight of him with a towel around his waist, his toned body on display. It’s the first time you’ve seen it in the daylight. He only removed his pants when he fucked you from behind. And the night before, you only got a glimpse of his beauty in the dim of the lamp-lit room. 

The ounce of self-restraint that remains in your being, holds you back from ripping the towel away from him and kneeling before him, begging him to use your mouth. 

There is a piece of you that regrets not taking the opportunity while you had it. You would have another memory of him to fill the Leon-shaped hole inside you. Better yet, he could’ve called you pathetic and told you to leave, and ruined it all before your infatuation could turn into something worse. But, he wouldn’t do that. And that’s why you like him. 

Summer 2012

It was supposed to be a one-time thing. Well, honestly, it wasn’t supposed to be anything at all. You had each other’s phone numbers but no plans were made and the goodbye hug didn’t feel like a ‘see you later’, more like a ‘have a nice life’.

But a couple months after your first meeting, he texts you. “I’m in town. Are you busy tonight?”

You happen to be very free and though you denied it at the time, very infatuated with Leon. In your mind, it’s simply the fact that he’s the best sex you’ve ever had and none of it has to do with the fact that during the second night you spend together you’re mere centimeters away from love-making when he bites your lip, tugging lightly before he flips you over to fuck you harder. You know he knows, it’s too obvious for him not to know, that’s why he refuses to look into your eyes, opting to push your face - which he reminds you is gorgeous - into the mattress. Your mascara still runs while you wonder if he’s still thinking about you when your face no longer serves to remind him of the woman whose cunt he uses. 

But that happens later. You meet at the same bar because Leon is oddly unfamiliar with the area despite having lived here years ago. Maybe he wanted to forget. That’s a question you never bother to ask.  

“I was constantly working. I went out with Ashley on the weekends when she wasn’t busy, but she always picked the restaurant. So, you’ll have to be my tour guide,” he says. 

You amble around downtown because you’re not decisive like Ashley. You didn’t prepare anything besides what your matching set of lace under your clothes. In June, the sun stays up late, and though they say that certain crimes of the flesh are only committed at night, for the two of you daylight can be far more dangerous. 

Simply fucking in his hotel room one night was well within the boundaries of whatever “this” is; however, kissing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial when the sun begins to set makes you feel like a teenager, being romanced for the first time and risking your overbearing parents finding out your dirty little secret. But, none of this is secret. Leon’s wife knows, passersby know, the statue of the 16th president of the goddamn USA who sits behind you knows. 

But what truly feels wrong is how chaste it is, how his hands cup your cheeks like a chalice. In a crowded bar, you drink gin and tonics for the Eucharist. Tomorrow, you deal with the unholy hangover. 

Still, you’re not sure if this is romance or friendship until you’re walking side by side and your pinkies inch their way closer until they brush against each other. You interlock them playfully for a second, but Leon pulls away rather than grabbing your hand fully. The one time he does take your hand, it’s to guide you through a crowd. He does not interlock fingers with you. He does not kiss your knuckles before he lets go.

Later you end up at your favorite bar because you are his amateur tour guide. 

“If this is your favorite, then why weren’t you here the night we met?”

“Would you have preferred I were?”

“No. I’m just curious.”

“The other bar is closer to home. Quieter, too.”

You’re practically yelling at this point over the band that’s playing. It takes two drinks for you to stand up and dance. It’s not some sort of high school prom slow dance. It’s stupid and drunken, but Leon spins you around and his hands are on your body - the less intimate parts - for most of the duration. He doesn’t have to flirt with sensual touches because he doesn’t have to lure you into bed. You are already planning to accompany to his hotel room. 

Usually, he is in town for a week at most, and busy for the majority of the time. You see him for a night or two each visit. However, one night after the usual routine of going to the same bar, drinking old fashioneds and Leon picking up the tab, he takes you to the apartment that he’s renting for the next 3 months.

“Three months?” you ask.

“Thought you’d be happy,” he says. “After you admitted that I’m the best you’ve ever had.”

“Cocky much?”

“Wanna find out?” He raises an eyebrow, daring you to take him up on his offer. He’s still unpacking in the bedroom, but you don’t find that out until later because you don’t make it that far into the apartment. You end up fucking on the couch. And then on the living room floor.

What you have is not romance but it’s dangerously close. You realize this when you accidentally take one of his t-shirts home and you wear it to bed again that night before washing it. Because it smells like him and you miss him. That’s not something you ever plan to admit to Leon, and because you don’t say it aloud, it’s not real. It’s only real when he says, “you should just keep a toothbrush here.”

So nonchalant that it catches you off guard. “What am I, your girlfriend?”

“Sorry for being logistical.” He huffs, though you can’t tell if he’s really mad or not.

On his next run to the pharmacy to buy condoms, he gets you the toothbrush.

It’s summertime and Leon has a balcony that overlooks the Washington Monument, so naturally, you eat your dinners outside. Leon cuts back on his drinking, so you often make lemonade instead – from scratch, like your mother used to.

Over dinner you ask him, “Why don’t you just move to D.C. if you spend so much time here?”

“I lived here for years – so did Ashley – and we both hated it. But her dad has a house in Vermont, and we spent our first anniversary there, and we realized we wanted to spend as much of our lives as we can there.” When he speaks, he doesn’t meet your eyes. He’s looking for the memory, reliving it with a smile on his face. You can feel the tranquility.

“Makes sense. If I had a father with a second home in Vermont, I would probably move there too.” Plus, I’m not tied to anything here. Except maybe you, Leon.

“It’s gorgeous in the summer. It sucks that I have to spend it here.”

“Wow,” you say, jokingly, “So, being around me really sucks that much?”

“No, you’re the only part of it that I like.”

You’re left speechless, flustered by his words, and you both know that he shouldn’t have said that despite the fact that it’s the truth.

“Anyway,” he transitions, poking at his salad, pretending to be incredibly interested in the lettuce in an effort to avoid your face. “This lemonade is great.”

“It’s my mother’s recipe. A little extra sugar.”

You take away the plates – his enthusiasm about his salad has faded. He stays on the balcony for a moment because he knows you want to do the dishes – “It’s kind of therapeutic,” you said to him. “Clean plates make you feel like your life is together”.

Regardless, when he comes in, he says, “You know you don’t have to do that.” because that’s in his nature. Other people make messes and he cleans them up.

“I know,” you say, and he doesn’t protest. 

You have sex because it’s either that or watch TV. It’s rough and impersonal, and over relatively quickly.

And then, it’s five o’clock somewhere, and somewhere is right where you are, so you pull out a bottle and toast to something stupid like the sex you just had or the TV show you’ll watch until you fall asleep.

Leon doesn’t drink but when he does (which is only when he’s with you. Ashley doesn’t let him indulge like that because she’s more sensible than you are) your conversations venture into topics that you would typically shy away from. You find yourself talking to Leon about his sex life outside of you.

“Do you guys fuck, like, immediately, when you get in the door?”

“Sometimes, yeah. Depends on how long I’ve been gone and how gross I am.”

“Do you think about it a lot? When you’re not with her?”

“Of course I do.” The question sticks in your mind: when we’re having sex too? “But we have phone sex,” he says, oddly prideful.

“That’s good. I’ve never been very good at phone sex.”

“If you’re horny enough it doesn’t matter.”

And that’s probably true. You have sex again shortly thereafter and you wonder if he’s thinking about her. You notice that he does not say your name when he cums.

February 2013

The next year you see him on Valentine’s Day. “Shouldn’t you be spending this with your wife?” you ask.

“I would be if I were at home.”

“You could go home or at least, call her.”

“I could call her, and I did, earlier today. But, it’s just a day. It’s not like it’s our anniversary or one of our birthdays.”

It’s just a day, so I’m spending it with you. It’s just a day, you’re just a girl.

“When’s your anniversary?”

“March 16th,” he says without missing a beat. Because he remembers things. As do you. For better or for worse.

“Are you going to go home for that?”

“No, she’s coming to visit.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” You probably don’t sound very convincing but you’re already making new plans for that week mentally – not that you had any explicit plans with him.

“You could meet her,” he offers, and you think he must be joking but it’s not that funny so you don’t laugh. He doesn’t laugh either because it isn’t a joke.

“Wait what?” you say. “Don’t you see how that’d be a little weird?” 

“She knows you exist.”

“Yeah, but-”

“-And,” he leans in to whisper into your ear because you’re in a relatively fancy restaurant where you probably shouldn’t be speaking too loudly about such topics, “I don’t know if you’re into women, but I think she’d be into you.”

It’s a blessing that your dress is black because you choke on red wine and it dribbles down your chest and onto your clothes before you can catch it.

“Sorry. I’m now realizing that sexuality is a sensitive topic and maybe I shouldn’t have broached the subject like that.”

“It’s not about my sexuality. It’s about the fact that you just asked me if I wanted to sleep with your wife.”

“Well, I was hoping to be there too in that hypothetical.”

“It’s your anniversary. I shouldn’t be there. You two should get some alone time.”

“You’re probably right about that.”

He asks you to help him pick out an anniversary gift for his wife. You study pictures of her to see what style of jewelry she wears. Apparently you’re good at buying gifts because you see a new picture of her as his lock screen in which she’s wearing the necklace you picked out.

It’s silver not gold, so it’s not the necklace you care about but the jewelry behind the glass that you gazed at while Leon talked to the cashier.

But before the necklace, before the picture, before Leon’s anniversary, you leave the restaurant together the same way you arrived except you’re covered in red wine. You complain about the way your heels leave blisters so he carries you to the front door - bridal style, ironically, but you’re the only one thinking about it. It’s just a name that comes from an old tradition. It’s like how Valentine’s Day is just a day. He gets down on one knee and because you’ve already imagined him in this position, seeing it play out in front of you startles you, but he’s just unbuckling your shoes. He sees the look on your face - you try to play it off - and he laughs because he knows what you’re thinking, but then again, he doesn’t know anything at all. To him, it’s a silly misunderstanding. To you, it’s a cruel joke you’ve played on yourself.

In his bedroom, where you spend most of your time together, he unzips your dress like he’s trying to save the wrapping paper on a gift. 

“It has wine all over it, and I got it on sale,” you say. “You don’t have to be so… gentle about it.”

“Would you prefer I rip it off of you?”

But it’s already slipping past your knees, dropping to the floor, revealing your bra and panties, revealing the secret - that you made an effort, that he is opening a gift, and the gift is a woman in lingerie. His face says enough, the way he looks you up and down, with arousal coursing through his veins but a certain fondness and admiration in his eyes. 

You distract him by unbuttoning his dress shirt - slowly because you’re pretty sure this is the one he likes. There’s no tie to undo, no tie to pull him into bed by. He doesn’t like things around his neck. Once, he tried to wear one and couldn’t tie it himself, and you had to help. He only kept it on for a second because he felt like it was suffocating him. 

You’re stuck in a mutual trance until you hear the neighbors fucking - not making love, fucking. You throw your head back laughing and Leon drags his hands down his face in faux-exasperation, laughter peeking through his fingers. 

“Way to kill the mood,” he sighs.

“Should I go get the broom,” you ask, intending to bang on the wall between apartments. 

“I think it’d be a little hypocritical.” Considering how much sex we have. Considering the fact that we’re about to have sex. 

“Okay, but we don’t sound like that.”

He shrugs with a stupid grin. 

“Oh God, do we sound like that?!”

“I hope not.”

“Leon,” you draw out his name, not quite whining, not quite begging. Not yet. 

“Here,” he says, and sticks a CD in his stereo, something he rarely uses. He prefers the quiet. There’s too much noise these days, he once told you.

"You sound like an old man."

"I feel like an old man."

When he stands in front of you in only a white undershirt and a pair of slacks, his belt lost somewhere along the way, while you’re freezing to death in black lace lingerie because he keeps his apartment at 70 degrees maximum, you let go of all inhibitions, and let your surprise be a pleasant one when you realize what album is playing. Grace. As if you have any left. 

“I love Jeff Buckley,” you say. 

“Everyone loves Jeff Buckley.”

“Not like me.”

The soft music doesn’t fully cover the sounds of your noisy neighbors but the sentiment does. All you can think about is Leon when he’s atop you. You make out like teenagers, savoring it in a way that makes it feel like there’s no expectation that the two of you will have sex. 

But slowly, it becomes more than that. His hands cup your breasts, his tongue flicks your nipple, his hands spreading your thighs, his fingers brushing over the fabric. And then the CD stops. It’s been 52 minutes. It’s like a parent knocking at the door, interrupting the magical moment. When Leon stands up to choose another CD, he sheds his shirt too.

Fade Into You plays as he walks back to you and you want to ask ‘How did you know?’, but you opt for taking off his pants instead. You lie face to face atop the covers with the lights only dimmed while he thrusts slowly in and out of you. You worry you’ll start singing along because you know all the words to this album. But Leon’s mouth rarely leaves yours - except when his face is between your thighs. 

It’s slow, intimate, undeniably romantic. Only urgent when you’re both nearing the edge and he picks up the pace. You cum together and wade through the aftershocks with heavy breaths. So Tonight That I Might See fades out and covered in sweat, you bask in the shared euphoria that tries to fill the melancholy air. You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. 

July 2013

Once, after a particularly terrible mission, you meet Leon at his hotel room and he fucks you so hard he has to keep his hand over your mouth for the duration to avoid a noise complaint. A second noise complaint.

Another time, he fucks you so hard the condom breaks. You’re on birth control but he has a wife, a wife that’s not you, so he offers to buy you the morning after pill, and since there’s no logical reason not to take it, you agree. Before you pop the pill in your mouth, you ask him, (mal)apropos of the situation, “Do you think you’ll have kids?”

You let him answer while you wash it down with a gulp of water.

“We’ve been trying actually.” You see the way he smiles and it makes you choke on the water. You wouldn’t have been surprised by a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, but you realize what his statement means: he would never buy her this pill. He wants to have a baby, but not your baby. He doesn’t love you like that. He doesn’t love you at all.

August 2013

You realize you love him right after he leaves. The best and worst part is that you do not see him until 2015. Almost 2 years later. You don’t hear anything from him or about him and sometimes you assume he was KIA, more optimistically, MIA. (Really, he’s just drunk and busy most of the time.) 

If Leon died would his wife send you an invitation to the funeral? Who are you - the mistress, a friend of the family, a long-lost somebody? 

Summer 2015

When he calls you in July, you half-assume that his voice won’t be the one on the other side. It’ll be someone else who recovers his phone from the ashes of whatever the fuck he’s fighting. You’ve started to forget what he sounds like and it terrifies you. 

“I’m gonna take some time off,” he tells you.

“You deserve it since you’re always working so hard.” You understand what ‘time off’ means. It means time away from you too. It means he goes back to where he belongs – in bed, beside his wife.

“I never thought I’d get a vacation – I tried, but it got interrupted. Bio-terrorists don’t care about vacation time as it turns out.”

“How long is your time off going to be?”

“I’m not sure yet. We don’t technically have paternity leave, but I think the DSO feels-”

“Paternity leave?”

“Yeah. I forgot to mention, Ashley’s pregnant.”

The “trying” they were doing finally worked. She must be so happy – they both must be so happy. You force yourself to be because it’s cruel to hate a child. It’s not the baby’s fault that you’re in love with its father.

“That’s… awesome, Leon. I remember you saying you were trying, so, congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he says, and the smile on his face looks genuine but you see his hands come out of his pockets, only to retreat. He was going to hug you. But something holds him back. Though she’s physically carrying the baby, he takes on some of the weight it seems.

“You’re gonna be a great father,” you say. And that’s the one statement that you mean wholeheartedly.

The next words to leave your mouth surprise you both. “How far along is she?”

“Not sure about the exact number of weeks, but she’s pretty far into her second trimester.”

“Does she have a bump yet?” “Can I see a picture?” “What about the ultrasound?” You’re just tearing your own heart out so he can’t when he inevitably leaves. Or, maybe you’re not. Maybe you’re curious to a fault. Maybe you’re genuinely a little bit happy because you do love him. That’s what makes it worse.

You realize that this is the last time you’ll see him. He’s not dying, and will likely return to DC, but his wife will call him, ask him to switch to video so she can show him the baby that sits perfectly on her hip. In your mind, she’s walking around their kitchen, still in frame while the phone sits on the counter and he watches, imagining the joy he’ll feel when he takes on half the weight of parenthood while he lets her sleep in on the weekends. 

You can’t be in the shower across the hall while he sings to a baby over the phone. You know he’ll sing. 

He has a better voice than one might expect and you know this because he once got drunk enough for you to convince him to sing karaoke.

“C’mon,” you say, nudging him in the direction of the stage. 

“I don’t sing,” he says, though he’s smiling. 

“Everyone sings.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me.”

“I’ll make a deal. If you sing, then I’ll sing.” He’s already holding your hands, you don’t have to shake on it. But you do (and he spits on his palm first to seal the deal and you tell him it’s disgusting but mimic the gesture anyway). 

You sing Like A Prayer, and though you can’t hear his voice over the surrounding noise, you can see him singing along by “Heaven Help Me”. 

He sings Jessie’s Girl, and you would be enthralled even if he completely bombed, but you’re a face in the crowd of dozens, singing along with varying BAC’s, you’d guess. You’re not Jessie’s Girl, or Leon’s girl, you’re just a girl. 

But the last night you spend together, you let yourself believe that you’re Leon’s girl when you fall into bed with him. When you interlock your fingers you pretend your ring is at the jewelers or on the bedside table. When he fucks you, he’s being quiet because you can’t wake up the neighbors or the baby in the nursery. In your mind, your husband is making love to you after he’s returned from the war. 

He explains what happened at Alcatraz and you’re Penelope, he’s Odysseus, except there are no other suitors for him to kill. No bow to shoot, no olive tree bedpost. 

But like them, you sleep together in a familiar room. Finally, fully, skin to skin, he gives himself to you. He gives himself to you temporarily, it’s sweaty and sickly sweet. You kiss until your lips turn red, catching your breaths forehead-to-forehead until you hold his cheeks in your hands like a pomegranate, ripe and rotting. 

He grips your hips until they bruise, and barely pulls out in time to spill his seed on your inner thighs, only a bit ends up inside. 

It’s not the first mistake you make together but it is the last. 

His trip is barely long enough for him to stand outside the bathroom and pray for one line while you sit alone praying for two. Silently, you show him the result. 

“What do you want to do now?” he asks. 

“Watch TV, I guess,” you say.

You sit next to each other on the couch. He leaves in the morning as was always the plan. You kiss him goodbye and with the same lips, he kisses Ashley hello. 

You were never Penelope. You’re Calypso, and he longs for home.

[vritest]

Mechanic Bada hcs

notes: mechanic bada has been on my mind lately, so here’s some head cannons I’ve been thinking of

here’s some mechanic bada stuff for you @urlovebot

warnings: very suggestive, lowkey smutty [ not proofread ]

her wardrobe would consist of wifebeaters, muscle shirts, and LOTS OF TANKTOPS.

she would NOT be caught wearing dresses or skirts. ( unless you insisted really HARD. ) basically boyfriend material 😍 masc baddie

if she’s wearing a dress or skirt she’d be squirming and always uncomfortably shifting in her seat. And be very touchy with you. Like puppy eyes, because she wants to leave and take off her clothes and uh other stuff 😍

she’d be the type of girl to come behind you and just keep her hands on your waist. Like her head is sitting on your shoulder and her hands dig into your waist.

she works all day at her shop, along with her friends. Team Bebe would literally be crew in the shop. Like hear me out, Soweon is like the girl at the front taking payments, Cheche greets people, Minah does detailing on all the cars, Tatter and Lusher are always under the cars handing each other tools, and Bada is just everywhere tbh.

would definitely lean over Soweon to check papers, like she towers over the desk. She would def be protective of Soweon if a customer gets bitchy with her, like she wouldn’t hold back.

definitely a smoker. always has a pack of cigarettes on her. might smoke pot with the girls, but it’s not her favorite.

when bada comes home she’s always sweaty, but like in a hot way you know. Like bangs stuck to her forehead, her shirt so sweaty you can see her sports bra, IDK ITS JUST HOT.

she’d definitely be clingy when she gets home, since she hasn’t seen you all day. Like super needy all the time

if you ever helped her in the shop, omfg that girl would loose her control with you. When you’d help on the cars, she’d be practically be hovering over you. Her hands would always guide you around the car, and show you all the parts.

would participate in street races and you’d definitely be the flag girl. She loves seeing your dressed up in the skippy clothes and you starting the races. would definitely have a hand on your waist at all time while watching races

suggestive stuff below ⇩⇩⇩

omfg her hands would have bruisers or small cuts. And when they’re covered up in the grease like OMG cover it in sm else-

abs. muscles. everything.

low key I feel like mechanic bada is g!p or a full on strap on user. ( def a top! , but I feel like after a long day at work she’s all subby and bratty. Like whiny bottom! )

Mechanic Bada would be SOO GOOD WITH HER HANDS!!!!!!!

like she knows her way around a car, and she’d definitely know her way around your body. Like she knows every spot that ignites something in you. Like she KNOWS 👀

would have some sort of kink of hooking up in car. Like having you in her backseat ass up for her just like-

loves to mark you all over. like lowkey so obsessed with it her lips are like swollen and red from it.

very possessive, like she’s jealous a lot. Guy looks at you the wrong way, she has “ a word “ with him. but also w that is angry sex so it’s okay.

like from earlier, she’s a smoker. She’d be the type to blow cigarette smoke into your mouth, or like have take a hit from a joint and kiss you. Like she loves the feeling of the warm smoke and your mouth.

that’s it for now!!! might make this like a series or just a collection of mechanic bada stuff. 👀👀 happy new years!!

[vritest]

WELCOME

Hey guys! I figured I’d make this intro post thing because I’ve been gaining for followers. (Thank you!)

I’m Fatima.

I’m 22 years old and 🇲🇽 but live in 🇺🇸 :)

•

Requests are more than welcomed!

Things that I won’t write about: incest, weird kinky shit, stepbrother!_x reader, rape, extremely triggering topics.

Other than that, pretty much everything else! I don’t write smut often because I think I’m pretty bad, but I’m working on it!

•

Love,

Fati XOXO.

[vritest]

I love you. (Say it back) Pt. 2

leon kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: None??? Kissing. Vandetta Leon???

PART 1

You couldn’t feel more ashamed in your life then right now.

You stood there for a while, processing everything you were seeing. After a while you came to a conclusion…

Your eyes were definitely not deceiving you.

The little girl on his shoulders was beautiful, and looked exactly like her father. Blonde, blue eyes, that beautiful nose you loved so much.

And the smile.

God the smile.

Leon’s smile.

One you haven’t seen in so long, too long.

You continued to stand in front of the doorstep, dumbfounded, feeling absolutely ashamed and embarrassed. How could you have not thought of this before?

Of course he had moved on. It’s been years that he hasn’t seen you, or even heard your voice. (Though he doesn’t even know how he went that long without your voice).

You squeezed your eyes shut.

This was all a dream. Go back to sleep Y/N.

You heard a small chuckle, and then some wait being put on your shoulder.

“You okay?” Leon asked worriedly staring at you, your eyes still closed and still standing on his porch.

Oh fuck, this is real life isn’t it?

“Daddy, she’s funny” A little voice said giggling softly.

You finally opened to it eyes looking up at the little girl who was playing with Leon’s brown hair. She probably thinks youre crazy.

“Shit- I’m so sorry… I feel so stupid- I’ll go-“

There it was. The historic wrist grab.

“Come in.” He asked, almost pleading. His eyes suddenly resembling puppy eyes.

“Please.”

You cleared your throat. Your eyebrows furrowing.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind? The mother of your child is in there-“

“What?” He asked interrupting and raising an eyebrow.

“I heard you say ‘Honey’ Leon. I’m not crazy.” You stopped. “And I’m not that type of person, so I’ll let you live your life and-“

Suddenly you heard laughter coming from the now, brunette man. His daughter looking down at him confused and then laughing as well, probably, not knowing why.

You just stared at him confused.

“When you knocked the door, this little one” he stopped pointing up to the little girl and the tucking her rib cage. He continued. “Decided to try and open the door, and I told her I could get it. She wanted to see who it was herself so I placed her on my shoulders. And to answer your question her mom doesn’t live with us.”

You didn’t know it was possible to feel this kind of embarrassment in your whole life.

“You wanna come in now?” He asked tilting his head.

———

“So… if you don’t mind me asking…. where’s her mom?” You asked Leon, as he walked towards the table you were sitting at and brought with him two glasses of water.

He sighed deeply.

“I was feeling like shit after you left, so I went to the bar, one last time. Got waisted, and started making out with this girl.” He took a sip of water before continuing.

“Then we went back to my place and you know, had sex…”

You groaned.

“I know how baby’s are made Leon..” You said in a whiny tone not wanting to hear about Leon’s love life after you left. Trying to hide the fact that it broke your heart that he went to the bar to escape his feelings even though you had told him not to.

He chuckled bringing you back to reality.

“Well anyway, she managed to remember my address and she didn’t even bother to tell me her name. She just…appeared at my doorstep a few months later and gave her to me and told me “she’s yours”, and then left… just like that.”

He sighed, looking towards the little girl who was in the living room, not far from where you and Leon were sitting.

She had a smile on her face as she played with to Barbie dolls.

Leon let out a smile. You continued to stay silent, not knowing if you should cry for him or if you should be worried about how he’s doing now.

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me Y/N. The reason why I haven’t drank in almost 7 years.”

He said passionately. You smiled, admiring his adoration for his daughter, but also the fact that he had actually listened to you.

“I’m glad you listened to me, Leon.” You sighed before you opened your mouth again.

“I never really got a chance to properly apologize for yelling at you that morning I was just trying-“

“To help me, I know Y/N. I don’t know what I would do if you never spoke up, so thank you.” He stopped, “And I’m sorry too. For being an asshole all those years, I swear I always did love you. Still do”

You smiled, the small fuzzy feeling filling up your stomach as sounds of the little girl still playing with her dolls filled the room.

You tuned back to look at Leon who was looking right at you, waiting for a response. Waiting that somehow… you wouldn’t hate him for not waiting for you.

“Aww don’t get go soft on me now, Leon.” You chuckled.

He rolled his eyes, as you giggled and took another sip of water.

As you took another sip, all Leon could think about was how much he had fucked up your guy’s relationship. How much he regrets how he acted. How much he wished you hadn’t seen him like that. How much he would’ve loved to have his first child with you. How much he wouldn’t loved if he had just…waited.

He sighed again, leg shaking underneath the table.

“I swear when I say, I love you. Always have, since the day I saw you in the back of our history class.”

“I missed you.” You muttered out.

“Yeah, I know” he laughed. “You wouldn’t have come all the way over here to see me if you didn’t.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him, hitting his shoulder pretty loud you guessed because here came his little monster coming to defend him.

“Hey! Don’t hit my dad!” The little girl said running up to her dad, to hug him and giving you the stankest eye ever. Leon laughed ruffling the little girls hair.

“It’s okay baby, she was just playing around.” He said smiling. Then a realization hit.

“How could I forget- hun this if my-“ he stopped looking out from his daughter, meeting your eyes, waiting for you to answer. You cleared your throat.

“Friend. I’m your daddy’s friend, Y/N.” You said smiling. She smiled too.

“I’m Sherry.”

Your eyes widened at the name. The name of the girl he had saved in Raccoon City, how cute.

“Sherry…” you said trailing off looking over to Leon, who was smiling and nodding his head. He knew you were both thinking of the same thing.

“That’s a beautiful name.” You said smiling to the little girl.

———

A few hours later, you found yourself sitting down with Leon and Sherry eating pizza that he had ordered after probably, 4 hours playing with Sherry.

She absolutely loved you. She hadn’t had a mother figure yet, but even though she had just met you, she already adored you.

Leon loved to see you playing with her, acting like she was your own it brought him happiness he hadn’t felt in a while. The type of happiness that only you could bring him, nobody else could.

After dinner, Sherry went to bed telling you a quick “Good night”, before Leon tucked her in bed, with a quick peck on her forehead.

He walked back towards the couch you were sitting in watching the News.

You and Leon tried to catch up as much as you possibly could.

After 6 years a lot had happened.

You told him about your failed dates, which he could only chuckle at, telling you that you really lost all your charm after you left him. Never telling him the whole reason that all your dates were a total fail, was because he was the only one on your mind.

He told you about his missions. How hard it had been going on them and worrying if he wasn’t able to see his daughter again. It made you worry about him, and the constant pressure that’s put on to him.

Not only does he have to work for the president, but now his daughter is in constant danger.

“I’ll take care of her, if you’d like… you know, while you go on those missions”you offered, sitting comfortably on the sofa, legs crossed looking up at him with those eyes, the ones he loved and looked forward to seeing them every day.

He smiled at your kind offer. “I do appreciate it, Y/N. A lot, I just don’t wanna cause any trouble-“

“You don’t have to worry about it Leon. She’s your daughter, she needs someone to keep her safe.”

You smiled.

“And plus I think she likes me. I mean she let me use her dolls, when I was younger I never let anyone even think of playing with mine.”

You two both laughed.

“What would I do without you Y/N?” He asked, letting a small chuckle and turning to look at you grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly.

“I don’t even wanna imagine”

The two of you looked at each other for a second, his hand still on yours. His touch taking you back to when he was yours. When life was simple.

He leaned towards you slightly closing his eyes.

How cute you thought, he hadn’t changed the way he kisses one bit.

Finally, as if he had been waiting for this his whole life, his soft lips landed on yours. Immediately he pulled back, he was moving way too fast.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take things too fa-“

You pulled the collar of his shirt, desperately kissing him. Hoping that it would make up for everything that had happened before this very moment.

“I love you.”

•••

Soooo, what do y’all think about the uno reverse card I pulled on you guys 🤭. And yes I do know Sherry didn’t die, I just thought the reference would be cute lol.

(I guess y’all deserved a happy ending 🙄)

•••

[vritest]

Y’all I’m about to pull the biggest uno reverse card for pt2 of the Leon blurb 😭😭

[vritest]

I lowkey wanna do a pt 2 but I don’t know how I could possibly continue ur this 😭

I love you. (Say it back)

leon kennedy x fem!reader

warnings: angst, angst, angst. kinda all over the place, kinda doesn’t follow the plot??? mentions of sex, younger???vandetta leon. NOT PROOFREAD

Knock knock. Stop. Knock… knock. *Burp*

A sound you were getting used to at midnight.

At first you decided wether or not you should just open the door. Maybe you should leave him there. Make him feel like shit, make him realize what he’s doing isn’t normal.

But your heart was too big for that.

You sighed, looking straight at your TV. A random singing reality show playing in the background, their singing cancelling out the knocks coming from your shared apartment. Or at least what was once a shared apartment you and your boyfriend had.

Lately it seems like he lives in the bars instead of your own home.

You sigh again, hoping the knocks would stop and hoping Leon would leave to Chris’s place, or just somewhere where you wouldn’t see him drunk and wasted.

Getting up from the couch, the knocks only got louder and louder. You groaned quietly and rubbed your face with your hands.

“Coming, I’m coming!” You yelled.

As you opened the door, Leon slumped on you hugging your frame and snuggling on to you like the way you snuggled with your teddy bear he had given you on your guys’s first date.

You sniffed his leather jacket, a scent of too many liquors to count, taking over your nose. You frowned slightly.

“God Leon you irk of alcohol. Did you take a shower in that stuff at the bar?” You asked sarcastically.

He chuckled.

“You’re funny, they don’t have showers in bars, silly…” Leon slurred trailing off from his train of thought his grip only tightening. You let out a big sigh and slowly unwrapped from his grip. He groaned.

“Hey… I was comfortable like that…”

“I know… but doesn’t a shower sound nice?”

“No.”

“Well too bad because I’m not letting you go to sleep stinking our whole bed of alcohol”

After an hour, you had prepared Leon a semi-warm shower.

After he took a shower it was normal for him to go straight to bed, after kissing you and saying a quick “Good night babe” but this time it was different.

As you sat on the couch, you heard some shuffling and saw Leon walking straight to your shared room. Not even looking your way, almost like he was being lured in there. You raised an eyebrow confused in his sudden break of the pattern you two have held for too long.

As you walked over to the room, you saw him on his side. Already asleep and snoring. The void in your heart only getting worser.

———

The morning wasn’t any better.

You had waken up with a huge headache, despite not drinking. Which was pretty odd, because you never got headaches out of the random. Not only that but when you turned around to reach for Leon, the only thing you touched were the cold sheets, meaning he had been awake for a while.

You got up, the off feeling you had only getting more prominent as you walk towards the kitchen, the sound of cereal being poured in to a bowl sounding close.

There you see Leon hunched over, his back towards you as he serves himself some Lucky Charms.

Which was kinda ironic thinking back now.

“Good morning.” You said softly. The rasp in your voice being the only thing Leon was looking forward to.

“ ‘Morning” he simply said pouring the milk into the bowl. He turned towards the island, sitting towards you know. Your eyes wondering Leon’s tired futures, trying so hard not to ask him about last night. You didn’t want him to leave you, and you didn’t want to leave him, but this whole thing was just getting to you. It’s like you had to battle a war in your mind 24/7.

You cleared your throat, despite not planning to say anything.

“Just say it. Say that I’m an asshole for not telling you good night. I don’t give a damn.”

“What? I wasn’t gonna-“

“You were! That’s the thing you don’t speak up about shit! You should hate me, I’m a bad boyfriend, a bad friend, an alcoholic but here you are taking care of me every day after I go to the bar. Why?” He said, the bowl of cereal being disregarded.

You laughed dryly.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

He looked side to side.

“I asked you a question.” He asked sternly.

“Have the 5 years we’ve been together proven you nothing? I love you Leon! And the fact that you asked that question makes me feel like shit. I do it out of love Leon everything.”

Silence.

“How do you think I feel after you leave for work? How about when you leave to go to the bar? I worry that I’ll get a phone call and get told your dead, and I hate myself that I can’t stop you. Because it’s your life. Not mine.”

He sighed trying to calm down in order for his words to come out less aggressively.

“You don’t have to worry about the drinking it’s nothing-“

“Nothing?” You laughed dryly again. Something you’ve done a lot more often lately. “Everyday you come home wasted and tell me you love me. Something you’ve never told me sober, did you know that?”

“Babe-“

“No! Fuck. Don’t babe me now. After all this time all I’ve ever wanted to do was to help you. And now you’re asking me why I’m doing all this? This must be some sick fucking prank.” You said. You were slowly loosing it. You never yelled at him. Sure maybe one time while playing Mario Kart when he beat you, but it was never this serious or intense. Leon’s mind went blank.

He was a horrible person.

“Fuck, im sorry about this I swear I can fix this aright? I fucking hate myself, I hate what I’m doing to myself and I can’t stop it”

There was silence allowing you to calm down before speaking up again.

“I know you can fix it.” You said more calmly this time.

“Just not with me.”

His eyes widened at the words that came out your mouth.

“What-“

“I’m leaving.” You claimed.

“What? You haven’t even packed yet-“

“I did, while you were sleeping. Thought you had heard but I guess you were fast asleep.” You mumbled.

He scoffed and let a small breathy “huh”.

“So that’s it?” He said throwing his hands besides his torso in defeat. “You’re just gonna leave me after all these years?”

“Don’t try to gaslight me now Leon. I’m doing this because I love you. Fuck, everything I do, I do because I love you and I can’t stand seeing you fuck up your life because you refuse to get help.”

You just stood there. Looking at him like if this was some staring contest.

Your heart kept telling you to back out, this was a bad idea. But you brain could only thing how this would benefit him.

You sighed. Starting to walk towards your shared room where you had packed two duffle bags that would be enough clothes to stay with your parents for a while.

As you got up, Leon got up as well grabbing your wrist and before you could even pull away (he was too strong) he pulled you towards him, kissing you just one more time. The taste of alcohol filling your mouth and the taste of your cherry lipgloss leaving a delightful taste at the tip of his tongue. As much as you wanted to pull back and tell him that he was an asshole for doing this, the kids only got more passionate and hungry tounges entering each others mouths, suddenly everything was okay. Suddenly it was his first day as a police officer and you and him had just shared your first kiss with eachother.

Maybe everything wasn’t so bad after all…

Right?

———

That morning had been long. The smell of makeup sex lingering the room. Leon’s bare hands hugging your naked frame, the afternoon sun peaking out from the curtains.

You got up, looking for your clothes he had desperately stripped off you.

Surprisingly after you grabbed the two duffle bags, despite making a good amount of noise, he was still asleep. You looked at him one last time , beige you headed to the kitchen and grabbed a napkin and a red gel pen.

Leon had woken up not too long after you had left quietly crying out your shared apartment.

He knew you always kept your promises.

Immediately he looked over at the night stand, your perfume, his favorite, gone. That’s when he saw a small peace of paper, and he squinted reaching out to grab it as he brought it up to his face squinting.

“Good morning afternoon sunshine,

I really didn’t want you to try and make me stay so I decided to leave right away. It’s already noon and by the time you wake up it’ll probably be dinner time, I know you’ll be hungry. Last night I made lasagna, just that you went straight to bed before I could even offer you some. Lol. There’s some leftovers in the fridge, along with some lemonade or coke, pick what’d you like.

Like I said in the morning, I’m doing this because I love you nothing else. If I could stay with you forever I would.

Thank you for what you gave me this morning.. I enjoyed it… (that might be an understatement.)”

He chuckled at your dry humor.

“Anyway… please take care of yourself and become the best version of yourself you can possibly be.

I love you. More than you’ll ever know. Even if you’ve never said it to me sober.

Love, Y/N.”

A single tear escaping his eye.

———

Years have passed and you had already moved out of your parents home you were temporarily living in.

Once you got your new place you decided it was time to move on from Leon. As much as you didn’t want to and refused.

Each date was the same.

They introduced themselves. They cracked a joke. You laughed. Their mouth moved until they asked if you were okay, and you would just nod. Then they would leave and never spoke to you again.

It just wasn’t the same. They weren’t Leon. They’ll never be.

So that’s what brought you right now. At your old apartment complex. The lady at the counter being the same one from a couple of years ago.

“Hey you were that lady that was the girlfriend of the young blonde man right?” She asked as you walked up to her counter. You smiled lightly. “Girlfriend” you haven’t heard that word in a while.

“Yeah.. uh I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

That being said, you had asked her if she knew any information about Leon and if he had moved out.

Turned out it had been only two months since he had moved out, she said he had told her he was moving to the suburbs. Which was weird considering you two would always talk about how you loved the chaos in the city and would never move back to the suburbs. Turns out great minds don’t think alike sometimes.

“Yeah, he seemed pretty glad to move into a house for the first time. Never said the reason though.” She said ducking her teeth. “He said he was staying by this really big park, with the lake and-“

“Oh my god.”

“What? What happened?” Thee asked.

“He moved back to his childhood home.”

———

It didn’t take you long to built up the courage after all these years to find him.

All the signs were pointing to this.

He definitely got better and had taken to advice to move in back to his old home. The reason was still unknown but you assumed that after all these years he was the person you had told him to become.

You missed him. You couldn’t wait to see him. Would his hair be brown like it was when you left? Or had he dyed it back to blonde, how he had it when you first met?

Either way, it didn’t matter if he was bald, you needed to see him. You needed him to be okay.

As you got closer to the house that was once his, you notice, two cars. Which you assumed were both his, unless Chris was over? No, it was probably just both his.

You parked, getting out of your car and fixing your hair as you prepared to knock on the wooden door. You didn’t know if this was one of your smartest moments. You didn’t want to look like a stalker, but you knew he probably wanted to see you too…right.

You knocked three times, a shuffle being heard in a background and a giggle.

The door opened. And the you heard it, his voice. Still sweet like sugar. Except he said some words that could’ve made you faint on the spot.

“I got it honey-“

You looked up noticing a small kid on his shoulders. Looking down at you. Their icy blue eyes they obviously inherited from Leon, staring at you with a small smile.

“Y/n…”

•••••

Y’all this honestly was abt to me cry lmfaoo 😭 but anyway hoped y’all cried lol.

•••••

[vritest]

I love you. (Say it back)

leon kennedy x fem!reader

warnings: angst, angst, angst. kinda all over the place, kinda doesn’t follow the plot??? mentions of sex, younger???vandetta leon. NOT PROOFREAD

PART 2

Knock knock. Stop. Knock… knock. *Burp*

A sound you were getting used to at midnight.

At first you decided wether or not you should just open the door. Maybe you should leave him there. Make him feel like shit, make him realize what he’s doing isn’t normal.

But your heart was too big for that.

You sighed, looking straight at your TV. A random singing reality show playing in the background, their singing cancelling out the knocks coming from your shared apartment. Or at least what was once a shared apartment you and your boyfriend had.

Lately it seems like he lives in the bars instead of your own home.

You sigh again, hoping the knocks would stop and hoping Leon would leave to Chris’s place, or just somewhere where you wouldn’t see him drunk and wasted.

Getting up from the couch, the knocks only got louder and louder. You groaned quietly and rubbed your face with your hands.

“Coming, I’m coming!” You yelled.

As you opened the door, Leon slumped on you hugging your frame and snuggling on to you like the way you snuggled with your teddy bear he had given you on your guys’s first date.

You sniffed his leather jacket, a scent of too many liquors to count, taking over your nose. You frowned slightly.

“God Leon you irk of alcohol. Did you take a shower in that stuff at the bar?” You asked sarcastically.

He chuckled.

“You’re funny, they don’t have showers in bars, silly…” Leon slurred trailing off from his train of thought his grip only tightening. You let out a big sigh and slowly unwrapped from his grip. He groaned.

“Hey… I was comfortable like that…”

“I know… but doesn’t a shower sound nice?”

“No.”

“Well too bad because I’m not letting you go to sleep stinking our whole bed of alcohol”

After an hour, you had prepared Leon a semi-warm shower.

After he took a shower it was normal for him to go straight to bed, after kissing you and saying a quick “Good night babe” but this time it was different.

As you sat on the couch, you heard some shuffling and saw Leon walking straight to your shared room. Not even looking your way, almost like he was being lured in there. You raised an eyebrow confused in his sudden break of the pattern you two have held for too long.

As you walked over to the room, you saw him on his side. Already asleep and snoring. The void in your heart only getting worser.

———

The morning wasn’t any better.

You had waken up with a huge headache, despite not drinking. Which was pretty odd, because you never got headaches out of the random. Not only that but when you turned around to reach for Leon, the only thing you touched were the cold sheets, meaning he had been awake for a while.

You got up, the off feeling you had only getting more prominent as you walk towards the kitchen, the sound of cereal being poured in to a bowl sounding close.

There you see Leon hunched over, his back towards you as he serves himself some Lucky Charms.

Which was kinda ironic thinking back now.

“Good morning.” You said softly. The rasp in your voice being the only thing Leon was looking forward to.

“ ‘Morning” he simply said pouring the milk into the bowl. He turned towards the island, sitting towards you know. Your eyes wondering Leon’s tired futures, trying so hard not to ask him about last night. You didn’t want him to leave you, and you didn’t want to leave him, but this whole thing was just getting to you. It’s like you had to battle a war in your mind 24/7.

You cleared your throat, despite not planning to say anything.

“Just say it. Say that I’m an asshole for not telling you good night. I don’t give a damn.”

“What? I wasn’t gonna-“

“You were! That’s the thing you don’t speak up about shit! You should hate me, I’m a bad boyfriend, a bad friend, an alcoholic but here you are taking care of me every day after I go to the bar. Why?” He said, the bowl of cereal being disregarded.

You laughed dryly.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

He looked side to side.

“I asked you a question.” He asked sternly.

“Have the 5 years we’ve been together proven you nothing? I love you Leon! And the fact that you asked that question makes me feel like shit. I do it out of love Leon everything.”

Silence.

“How do you think I feel after you leave for work? How about when you leave to go to the bar? I worry that I’ll get a phone call and get told your dead, and I hate myself that I can’t stop you. Because it’s your life. Not mine.”

He sighed trying to calm down in order for his words to come out less aggressively.

“You don’t have to worry about the drinking it’s nothing-“

“Nothing?” You laughed dryly again. Something you’ve done a lot more often lately. “Everyday you come home wasted and tell me you love me. Something you’ve never told me sober, did you know that?”

“Babe-“

“No! Fuck. Don’t babe me now. After all this time all I’ve ever wanted to do was to help you. And now you’re asking me why I’m doing all this? This must be some sick fucking prank.” You said. You were slowly loosing it. You never yelled at him. Sure maybe one time while playing Mario Kart when he beat you, but it was never this serious or intense. Leon’s mind went blank.

He was a horrible person.

“Fuck, im sorry about this I swear I can fix this aright? I fucking hate myself, I hate what I’m doing to myself and I can’t stop it”

There was silence allowing you to calm down before speaking up again.

“I know you can fix it.” You said more calmly this time.

“Just not with me.”

His eyes widened at the words that came out your mouth.

“What-“

“I’m leaving.” You claimed.

“What? You haven’t even packed yet-“

“I did, while you were sleeping. Thought you had heard but I guess you were fast asleep.” You mumbled.

He scoffed and let a small breathy “huh”.

“So that’s it?” He said throwing his hands besides his torso in defeat. “You’re just gonna leave me after all these years?”

“Don’t try to gaslight me now Leon. I’m doing this because I love you. Fuck, everything I do, I do because I love you and I can’t stand seeing you fuck up your life because you refuse to get help.”

You just stood there. Looking at him like if this was some staring contest.

Your heart kept telling you to back out, this was a bad idea. But you brain could only thing how this would benefit him.

You sighed. Starting to walk towards your shared room where you had packed two duffle bags that would be enough clothes to stay with your parents for a while.

As you got up, Leon got up as well grabbing your wrist and before you could even pull away (he was too strong) he pulled you towards him, kissing you just one more time. The taste of alcohol filling your mouth and the taste of your cherry lipgloss leaving a delightful taste at the tip of his tongue. As much as you wanted to pull back and tell him that he was an asshole for doing this, the kids only got more passionate and hungry tounges entering each others mouths, suddenly everything was okay. Suddenly it was his first day as a police officer and you and him had just shared your first kiss with eachother.

Maybe everything wasn’t so bad after all…

Right?

———

That morning had been long. The smell of makeup sex lingering the room. Leon’s bare hands hugging your naked frame, the afternoon sun peaking out from the curtains.

You got up, looking for your clothes he had desperately stripped off you.

Surprisingly after you grabbed the two duffle bags, despite making a good amount of noise, he was still asleep. You looked at him one last time , beige you headed to the kitchen and grabbed a napkin and a red gel pen.

Leon had woken up not too long after you had left quietly crying out your shared apartment.

He knew you always kept your promises.

Immediately he looked over at the night stand, your perfume, his favorite, gone. That’s when he saw a small peace of paper, and he squinted reaching out to grab it as he brought it up to his face squinting.

“Good morning afternoon sunshine,

I really didn’t want you to try and make me stay so I decided to leave right away. It’s already noon and by the time you wake up it’ll probably be dinner time, I know you’ll be hungry. Last night I made lasagna, just that you went straight to bed before I could even offer you some. Lol. There’s some leftovers in the fridge, along with some lemonade or coke, pick what’d you like.

Like I said in the morning, I’m doing this because I love you nothing else. If I could stay with you forever I would.

Thank you for what you gave me this morning.. I enjoyed it… (that might be an understatement.)”

He chuckled at your dry humor.

“Anyway… please take care of yourself and become the best version of yourself you can possibly be.

I love you. More than you’ll ever know. Even if you’ve never said it to me sober.

Love, Y/N.”

A single tear escaping his eye.

———

Years have passed and you had already moved out of your parents home you were temporarily living in.

Once you got your new place you decided it was time to move on from Leon. As much as you didn’t want to and refused.

Each date was the same.

They introduced themselves. They cracked a joke. You laughed. Their mouth moved until they asked if you were okay, and you would just nod. Then they would leave and never spoke to you again.

It just wasn’t the same. They weren’t Leon. They’ll never be.

So that’s what brought you right now. At your old apartment complex. The lady at the counter being the same one from a couple of years ago.

“Hey you were that lady that was the girlfriend of the young blonde man right?” She asked as you walked up to her counter. You smiled lightly. “Girlfriend” you haven’t heard that word in a while.

“Yeah.. uh I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

That being said, you had asked her if she knew any information about Leon and if he had moved out.

Turned out it had been only two months since he had moved out, she said he had told her he was moving to the suburbs. Which was weird considering you two would always talk about how you loved the chaos in the city and would never move back to the suburbs. Turns out great minds don’t think alike sometimes.

“Yeah, he seemed pretty glad to move into a house for the first time. Never said the reason though.” She said ducking her teeth. “He said he was staying by this really big park, with the lake and-“

“Oh my god.”

“What? What happened?” Thee asked.

“He moved back to his childhood home.”

———

It didn’t take you long to built up the courage after all these years to find him.

All the signs were pointing to this.

He definitely got better and had taken to advice to move in back to his old home. The reason was still unknown but you assumed that after all these years he was the person you had told him to become.

You missed him. You couldn’t wait to see him. Would his hair be brown like it was when you left? Or had he dyed it back to blonde, how he had it when you first met?

Either way, it didn’t matter if he was bald, you needed to see him. You needed him to be okay.

As you got closer to the house that was once his, you notice, two cars. Which you assumed were both his, unless Chris was over? No, it was probably just both his.

You parked, getting out of your car and fixing your hair as you prepared to knock on the wooden door. You didn’t know if this was one of your smartest moments. You didn’t want to look like a stalker, but you knew he probably wanted to see you too…right.

You knocked three times, a shuffle being heard in a background and a giggle.

The door opened. And the you heard it, his voice. Still sweet like sugar. Except he said some words that could’ve made you faint on the spot.

“I got it honey-“

You looked up noticing a small kid on his shoulders. Looking down at you. Their icy blue eyes they obviously inherited from Leon, staring at you with a small smile.

“Y/n…”

•••••

Y’all this honestly was abt to me cry lmfaoo 😭 but anyway hoped y’all cried lol.

•••••

[vritest]

It’s been so long since I made a fez one shot and I’m thinking of starting to write again.. 🥹

[vritest]

I need someone to make a ff about eddie using those handcuffs he has in his bedroom on you. i’m so desperate ☹️☹️💔

[vritest]

in your arms again

eddie munson x fem!Henderson reader

warnings: mentions of weed, weed usage, EXTREME MISSPELLING bc i’m too lazy to proofread like always

angst and fluff

•••

the scene was already depressing enough.

“the smiths” was playing loudly in your car. the specific song “There Is A Light That Never Goes Out”, a song you and Eddie would always jam too. at least you would force him too. He always insisted to play other music, Black Sabbath or Metallica but you loved that song because it reminded you of everything you felt for him.

you tried to pretend everything was okay riding back home in your small toyota, that still smelled exactly like him, having to know you’d be faced with your brother asking you all types of questions. why we’re you crying? what had happened? dustin couldn’t see you like this. dustin couldn’t know that eddie had broken up with you tonight.

but you just couldn’t let the river of tears trying to stroll down your face anymore, so you let it all out. the scene that had happened a few minutes ago still replaying in your head a million times. you didn’t even know why you kept that stupid song on, knowing how many memories hid behind it.

*

“and if a ten ton truck~ kills the both of us~” you sang, laying on his bed. taking a hit from the blunt eddie had rolled up for you. eddie smilled looking down at you just enjoying yourself in the momment. if it something that he loved seeing you smile, your beautiful teeth shining at him and almost blinding him.

“honestly i’ve never known why you liked that song so damn much”

you groaned and sat up looking straight at him and tilting your head.

“why do you think?”

he hummed sarcastically, looking over at you and quirking an eyebrow listening to the lyrics that were forgotten for a second.

“that you would like to get killed by a ten ton truck?” he asked. you just snorted.

“you’re an idiot”

*

you didn’t exactly know why he had ended things that night. it was the thing you’d least expect from him. the worst part it was so quick, and yet it hurt so bad. almost like taking off a bandage.

when he called you that night, you didn’t think much of it. he had called you to tell you that he needed to talk about something important. you knew that him being the dnd king as he was, he wanted to talk to you about his next campaign, but boy were you wrong in every single way.

*

you were gripping the edge of eddie’s bed, you hands going up to cover up your face, in frustration and confusion. eddie just stood in front of you arms crossed as he rubbed his forehead with his fingers.

“so that’s it?“ you asked.

eddie only sighed. you laughed humorously and threw your hands up on the air getting up and pointing at him, quiet sobs coming out of you’re mouth making eddie almost do the same thing. he didn’t want to do it.

he didn’t want to end everything with the love of his life. but the truth is, he was never able to picture a future with you. you had so many things you could do in the future, things you could become. he could picture you finally moving the bell out of hawkins, somewhere near the city probably. where you’d always tell him you’d move someday, with him. the thing is he saw you living a life straight out of a tv show. you and your husband 2 kids and dog. in a nice suburban neighborhood. “the smiths” probably blasting every morning.

without him.

you were going to do so much better without him. at least that’s what eddie thought. you were soon going to college, which meant you would go so much farther than he ever thinks he’ll go. you have a future written right before your eyes, he didn’t.

“y/n, please don’t make this harder than it needs to be, i don’t even wanna look at you” he said.

“what the hell do you mean you don’t want to look at me? you want to break up at me and you can’t even look at me in my fucking eyes.” you said pointing at him aggressively. he stared down though, refusing to make eye contact.

“c’mon look at me and tell me you don’t love me anymore” you claimed sniffling.

he looked up at you. those same eyes that he used to stare at you with that were once filled with love, started to overflow with sadness.

“i’m sorry.”

*

the breakup hurt eddie as much as it hurt you. probably more.

he didn’t know how important“the smiths” would become for him, until he found himself playing “There Is A Light That Never Goes Out” that song on his record player for the 100th time in the morning. all his memories that were saved in his brain with you replaying like a broken record.

he remembered how he met you. still so clear in his mind. the momment he walked into that record store, and he saw you in your uniform. perfect hair, perfect eyes, you were so perfect it took him a while to realize he wasn’t looking at an angel.

it started off with him asking you to reserve new copies coming in, before they were sold out. then he started inviting you to his shows where he played in his band. you loved how he played guía guitar, with so much passion and dedication you admired so much. you knew someday he’d become something big.

the rest was pretty much history.

and the fact that dustin found out you were eddie’s girlfriend, the one he would always brag about to his dnd club. at first he found it pretty disgusting, and then he realized that he truly did love you.

as if the daily, song recommendations he would give you (because they reminded him of you) weren’t enough.

as for you, the next days for you were definitely hard for you. you expirenced all the 5 stages of grief at once, it felt like a hurricane was coming at you and you just couldn’t get up anymore.

the momment you had came back from eddie’s house that night, it didn’t take dustin much to figure out what had happened. the smeared mascara said it all.

*

it was morning and dustin called you, you didn’t respond. not even when dustin had mentioned that your mom had done your favorite breakfast. so of course he had to call eddie.

he quickly dialed eddie.

it took about 5 times for him to pick up. and when he did dustin automatically started bombarding him with questions.

“do you wanna.. i don’t know maybe tell me why my sister doesn’t want to come out of her bedroom?”

silence was heard from the other side of the line. dustin could hear eddie exhale.

“i know you did something dude”

there was still awkward silence.

“look, if you’re still not going to say anything that’s fine, just know that i will find out and once i do it’s over for you”

then he hung up. it absolutely broke eddie how you were already doing horrible and it hadnt even been a day. he told himself it was his fault over a million times. but at the same time, everything he did was for you, or so he thought.

*

despite you’re world slowly crashing in a span of 6 months. it still meant you had to continue working at that record shop, you hated now.

the shop that was once filled with laughs and talks about music, now things you wanted to avoid the most. even parking infront of it gave you chills. you clumsy look at a place where eddie would come everyday to just talk to you, and almost always walk out with nothing on his hand.

you stood behind the counter, bored out of your mind. looking at nothing. at the same place you had started in. helpless and alone once again.

suddenly the bells from the front door rang, you looked up to see someone, a man. you couldn’t see his face because it was covered up by a hat and a scarf. you put on a fake smile.

“hello sir” you said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

he didn’t answer.

someone was moody, you guessed. your eyes followed his figure that was automatically going to the “T” section. you followed him. you knew, how this working thing worked. you would start small talk and eventually convince them on buying something, simple.

you looked down at him, a hand on your hip as he seemed to look for something. you grabbed a “the smiths” record showing it to him.

“in case you’re looking for a good song to listen to i recommend-“

“There Is A Light That Never Goes Out” he said clearing his throat. “The Smiths”.

you tried so hard not to drop your jaw on the floor at that very moment. the familiar voice ringing in your ears for the first time in 6 months and 5 days to be exact.

Eddie Munson.

you almost gasped as if you were scared. but words couldn’t describe the feelings you were experiencing all at once. hate, anger, sadness, and relief.

“what the hell? eddie?” you asked.

he looked up at you. and that’s when you saw it. those eyes, god, those damn eyes would be the death of you.

“y/n.”

still in shock. you stood there for a while. the record still in your hands and your eyes getting watery so fast.

“look before you kick me out or some shit, which i totally understand why you would do that. i really want to apologize” he said sincerely. you stayed silent.

“what i did that night was really fucking dumb and i’m so sorry- i just got so caught up in my thoughts and i couldn’t handle it anymore so i-“

eddie’s words were caught off by a pair of lips landing on his. a rhythm dancing slowly on them. you hands in the back of his head.

god he missed this so much.

your lips on his. your touch. everything about you, made him fall in to a spell every time.

you didn’t know why you did it. why you kissed him. perhaps it was because you had missed him so much and it was so hard to hold it any longer. maybe you were dumb for doing this, sure. all you knew is that you needed him right and this momment.

you two didn’t stop until you pulled away first.

you rested your forehead on his for a second. breathless.

“i hate the way i love you so damn much.”

•••

a/n: this was very bad and i hate how rushed the plot is but its late at night and i wanna go to bed so 👍

[vritest]

misery

eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: angst, post-breakup, mentions of alcohol use, implied depression, sort of a happy ending if you squint really hard, reader is a cheerleader, secret relationship

word count: 1.1k

request: "anonymous asked: maybe you could write an angst fic/blurb for eddie… with a major argument because the relationship is private but eventually the fic ends on a good note somehow. really make it whatever you want lol i’m just a sucker for any type of angst!!"

a/n: it didn't quite end up the way anon asked for, but i'm pretty happy with the overall result. i hope y'all like it <3

they say time heals all wounds.

whoever came up with that can seriously go to fucking hell.

ever since your breakup with eddie munson, you had been absolutely miserable.

it’s not like you hadn’t seen it coming - quite the opposite, actually. and for the days, even weeks leading up to it, you tried to be oblivious. tried to tell yourself that it was all in your head and everything was fine.

eddie had slowly pulled away from you. all of the late night phone calls, sneaking him into your room after your parents went to sleep, meeting him in the woods behind hawkins high, the pet names he had specifically for you, all lessened in their frequency.

you figured that’s what happens when you keep something a secret for so long, but you had hoped that your relationship would withstand all the obstacles thrown it’s way until you both graduated high school.

that particular day, he had asked you to meet him at your spot, and stupidly, you thought that maybe things were coming around and it was just some shit he was going through at home that he didn't want you to know about.

you couldn't be more wrong.

he stood there, completely barren of any emotion as he told you he was done. that there was no way he could continue lying to himself, and to you, that he actually cared about you. you were nothing more than another notch on his belt, a conquest for him.

it felt like your world was crashing in on you, making it hard for you to breathe. you shook your head, repeating a slew of ‘no’ and ‘eddie, please’ as you grappled to process what the hell was going on.

since day one, he had made it clear this is what he wanted. that you were what he wanted most. he didn’t care about the stereotypes that seemed to dictate everything everyone did or didn’t do. he was above all of that, and looked beyond the bullshit labels at the person behind them. you were "a beacon of light in the darkness” as he once put it.

yet he stood there, unbothered, watching you fall apart in front of him without doing anything. even as you cried and begged him not to go, he still did absolutely nothing. 

“i’m sorry, y/n,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, looking everywhere else but at you. “i don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

there was so much more he could say. like the truth. that he was a two-time senior living in a trailer park, and you were the pretty cheerleader, top of the class and on your way to college to become everything you’d always wanted to be in life. he had nothing to offer you, that much was clear to him, and it killed him to do this to you, but he felt like he had no other choice.

the days that followed were a living nightmare. having to go to school like your heart hadn't been pulverized into a million pieces had become the bane of your existence. even though you put on a fake smile, it was completely obvious to everyone who knew you that there was something off.

whereas eddie seemed completely fine.

fucking asshole.

now here you are, almost two months later, alone in your room, sobbing into your pillow as the songs in the mixtape eddie made for you flow through your stereo.

flashbacks of the day he gave it to you come to mind, and you find some kind of solace in them, despite the ever present ache in your chest.

eddie knocked at your window once before opening it and hopping in. he was all smiles, completely proud of himself for the hard work he had done to make it perfect. 

“for you, madam,” he says in a goofy tone, making you giggle as you take it from him.

“what’s this?”

“only the coolest mixtape i’ve ever made for anyone,” he says, plopping down onto your bed as he kicks off his shoes. “well, the only one i’ve ever made for someone, but that's besides the point.” 

you place the cassette tape into your stereo, curious to hear what’s on it. the trooper by iron maiden comes blasting through, and you turn around to find him playing air guitar and mimicking the sounds.

“whose that?” you ask, climbing on the bed next to him.

he stops air strumming and glances at you, a feigned look of shock and offense on his face before he pretends to be shot and falls off your bed. 

“only the greatest band to ever fucking exist, iron maiden,” he says as he holds his hand to his heart. “don’t worry sweetheart, i’m gonna teach you everything you need to know, okay? i know those preppy weirdos have you brainwashed into thinking wham! is the greatest ever.”

“they are, though,” you tease, chuckling as you sit on the floor next to him. “george michael is amazing.” 

he pretends to groan like he’s in pain, shaking his head. “no! no! i don’t wanna hear it!”

you’re pulled back to reality when the phone on your bedside table rings. you glance at the clock, 11:45pm, and wonder who the fuck would be calling this late. wiping your tears, you answer the phone, only to be met with silence on the other end.

“you know it’s real fucking weird to just call people and not say anything,” you huff in annoyance, waiting just a little bit longer to see if maybe they’d say something.

nothing.

you roll your eyes, muttering a soft ‘whatever’ before rolling over to hang up.

“y/n…”

the voice on the other end makes your blood run cold, your heart racing so fast you swear it’s going to burst at the seams. you sit up on your bed, bringing your knees up to your chest and furrowing your brows slightly.

“eddie? w-what the hell?”

“i miss you,” he says, a slight slur to his words that makes you think he’s probably drunk. “i miss you so much…”

all rationale goes out the door the minute you hear those words. you should hang up on him, curse him for putting you through hell the last couple of months, for wasting your fucking time by making you think he actually gave a shit about you. but the pain in his voice, despite being under the influence, is what you cling to the most.

“i miss you, too…” you whisper, sniffling a bit as the tears begin to fall down your face uncontrollably.

[vritest]

3rd- 2nd Times The Charm

tw: drugs, a lot of misspelling cuz i’m too lazy to proofread

eddie munson x fem!reader

a/n: this is the first time i’ve written in so long so excuse the bad plot or whatever 😭😭 i just finished watching stranger things 4 and i’m obsessed with Eddie y’all oml

•••

“so what do you think?”

“hell no.” max said. you looked at her with pleading eyes rolling over her bed to face her in her desk drawing something random with some crayons you have given her for her birthday.

you groaned. “c’mon max, it’ll only be a first time thing” you cooed, playing with your headphones that weren’t connected to your cassette. knotting it with your fingers. she only stared at you, but you knew better. you knew max better than anyone in the world. you two have been best friends and neighbors for the longest. even if you were 4 years older than her, she thought of you as an annoying older sister. but many times it wasn’t often felt the opposite. you basically lived at her place. especially since your parents were always doing out, going on business trips or whatever.

max sucked her teeth. sighing as she continued to draw. you looked up to meet the back of her readhead. “imagine if mike and dustin find out you’re literally buying drugs from their club leader or whatever the fuck” she stopped and sarcastically laughed “AND not to mention he’s literally my freaking neighbor!”. you picked up a bowl of chips you were munching on the whole time.

“so?” you said in between crunches. max looked back at you dropping her crayons. her blue eyes sinking in to you.

“so you’re being fucking ridiculous y/n” she groaned looking back at her drawing. it’s as if she noticed your eyes were burning in the back of her head because the next thing she said was..

“no.”

••••••

you knocked on the trailer. no response.

kno-

“okay, okay i’m coming goddamit wait” you heard a voice said. yup it definitely was him, at least you know you weren’t being set up.

the curly hair metal head opened the trailer door, his eyes examine you. he was wearing the same jean jacket he’s always worn with the same hellfire shirt as well. now, you wouldn’t say you only came here for the drugs. besides that, it was something else you came for too.

you’ve been kinda crushing on eddie. for a little.. okay maybe a lot but you also wanted to get high. you haven’t done that ever since you thought you bought laced shit that made you see hallucinations like a cat in the kitchen baking a cake, that said “happy birthday y/n!”…. it wasn’t even your birthday.

so you thought, get high + crush= he falls in love with you. bingo.

the thing is, eddie has also been having something for you. he just loves the way you were always so unbothered. it was pretty unbelievable for him, and surprisingly you were one of the very few people that has never judged him based on the rumors about him.

but he never, ever thought you would show up to his doorstep. but there you were. messy hair, the same soft red lipstick on your pouty lips. you were mesmerizing in his eyes, and he hated using fancy words like that.

you looked around his place as his eyes were stuck on you.

quickly he noticed how long you two have been staring at eachother. he fixed his hair and cleared his throat giving a friendly smile, at least he thought.

“shit, i’m sorry. i didn’t even notice i was standing here for like 30 minutes wasn’t i?” he asked.

you laughed out loud, glad that he acknowledged the awkward tension.

“i have time, don’t worry.” you said, putting your hands in the pockets of your leather jacket.

he welcomed you in, and you walked in as he headed to the kitchen and asked you if you wanted something to drink. and suddenly he forgot what he was, he was a drug dealer and you obviously weren’t here to hook up with him or something. he felt so dumb he could mentally slap himself a million times.

you sat there on his couch a few minutes talking a quick look around his small trailer home. it was kinda messy and it definitely smelled like weed. even if you felt your claustrophobia getting to you, for some reason it felt comfortable.

“is this how you treat all your clients?” you snorted. he bit his lip unable to get words out of his mouth. god he was so embarrassed right now.

“nah, uh i just kinda forgot-“

“you were a drug dealer?”

he laughed. “kinda? i don’t know i mean- since you’re here it makes everything so much harder-“

you looked at him confused. your confused eyes making eddie want to hide behind the counter and never show his face to you again, because he can’t handle looking in to your eyes once more before they destroy him.

“what do you mean by that?” you asked. you asked so many questions, it was starting to get eddi anxious besides him being high out of his mind already.

“oh nothing that i’ve totally been like- crushing on you for the longest” he said waving his hands up in defense running his tounge through his teeth. you widened your eyes and slapped your hand to your mouth and let out a stream of laughter. he totally screwed up. he could only laugh with you sarcastically.

“oh my god, really?” you snorted out.

was this reality? no it couldnt. no way. your crush… eddie munson. like you?

you had to let that sink in your mind for a while.

“hell yeah really” he said. finally feeling a little more confident.

you fiddled a bit in your seat. your eyes meeting his once again, he was still standing behind the counter, talking out what looked like a can of spaghettios.

“me too.” you said softly.

he grinned widely.

••••

5 hours later.

“you know the first time i got high, i got some laced shit from this dude behind a gas station with some boho looking ass beard” you said laughing. “And then i saw- i saw a cat making me a birthday cake, that was in june and my birthday wasn’t until fucking november”

eddie wheezed, and as he did he coughed out smoke so hard it went through his nostrils. you squeezed your eyes shut and laughed some more.

“why would you trust a random junkie for weed? i thought you were smarter than that y/n” he said in between laughs.

you laughed even more at his ugly laugh.

you sighed contently, eddi passed you the blunt, as you inhaled and exhaled.

“you’re so cool, where have you been all my life?” he said with a smile. resting his head on the back of the cough. you looked at him exhaling a big cloud of smoke resting your head next to his.

“to be exact a few blocks away from here”

you’re faces both lit up again. you looked into his red stones eyes, the both of you were so fucked.

then, you both burst in to laughter.

[vritest]

3 words

fezco x fem!reader

warning: NOT EDITED, drug use, euphoria drama idk? this kinda follows the plot but it’s very much different and i kinda added my own twist so enjoy! lol

…

it was a summer night. hot, humid, quiet. the only think that could be heard of was the slight breeze coming from your open window of your little room, as you sat in your bed. crisscrossed, holding your phone as if you were waiting for a text to come in. from maddy or cassie. you hadn’t heard from them ever since the whole nate situation. you also haven’t heard from bb, or kat. it seemed as if your only friends that you thought would have your whole back, just left you in the dust. you were left overthinking every second now. maybe it was your fault. even if you hadn’t done anything. you knew rue was the one that confronted cassie about it infront of maddy, but still you felt that weird sense of guilt you just seemed to consume like a normal thing.

truth was, your mental health had been recked. your whole friend group had been destroyed basically. now you really had nobody. that you trusted at least. you sat on your bed for a few more minutes reminiscing and thinking replaying happy memories with your friends you missed so much. you sighed looking up at your ceiling, inhaling the summer humid air and exhaling, and with repeating like a pattern. it wasn’t long until a boring sensation filled your body, which made you suddenly have the most craziest idea ever.

you wanted to get high. truth is, you didn’t get high everyday. perhaps when it was at a party and the music was blasting to your ears with the smell of sweat and dancing body’s making you wanting to try the drug, just for the sake to not feel anything even if it was just for a second. you liked it. of course not the extent that you were a drug addict, it was simply just a pleasurable thing to expirence for you.

you looked down at your phone, still in your hand. the screen turning on slowly the lock screen showing, you, kat, bb, maddy and cassie holding up the middle finger. you guys were posing on maddys bed your tounges out, you guys were happy. you were happy.

you only let out a sad smile, unlocking your phone and pressing messages. you scrolled through your contacts, occasionally passing by their names ones again, it was like you couldn’t escape it. but then there it was. rues name. ‘rue rue’.

“fuck it” you muttered. you hesitantly pressed the call button near rues name. putting your phone close to your ear biting your lip as the ring of the phone buzzed through the screen. until it suddenly stopped.

“hello?” a voice said, from the other end.

you sighed in relief.

“hey rue, i know it’s probably not the best time but um you know a few people that sell, right? i’m just feeling really fucking down right now and i need something to get my mind of everything”

you said letting everything out. you chuckled sarcastically, as you could hear rues slow breathing through the other end of the line, tapping on your phone as you waited for her to answer your question.

“yeah no i totally get it” she stopped

“i know a guy.”

…

rue had told you were this, “guy” was. apparently his name was fezco. you kinda didn’t believe someone would ever be named that. i mean sure it was a bad ass me but, it seemed a little too good to be true. at least that’s what you thought, until you stepped in to the little liquor store. a guy, who you assumed was fezco, sitting in the counter smoking a blunt calmly. his eyes slightly closing but then opening as he saw your figure walk, towards him. you placed your hands behind your back and coughed awkwardly quickly gaining his attention.

fezco grabbed his blunt, turning the other way around and placing it onto his ashtray. quirking at eyebrow up as he definitely recognized your face quickly. he’s definitely seen you before, he didn’t know why out of all people your face was so familiar, maybe it was your eyes of lips, but something was definitely a highlight to him. you were also extremely, pretty.

“hi, a friend told me you sell, just wondering how much for some pre rolls” you blurted. fezco wasn’t suprised that you came for drugs, you were just another costumer, right? that’s what he tried to convince himself at least. he didn’t know why he expected so much from you. sure you looked like an angel, a halo on top of your head and those dimples of yours standing out, but still he was suprised that’s all you said.

“for sure, gimme a minute” he muttered. getting up from the counter, starting to walk near what seemed like a little room near the refrigerators with beverages. you looked around a while. by now it seemed like fezco was whipped for you, and there was no denying that you hadnt ignored him either. you were nervous once you face his face. his gold chain dangling on his neck and his colorful polo shirt fitting his figure so nicely.

he walked out the room, as you watched him and noticed the blunts on his hand. you and him exchanged blunts and money. paying him 40 dollars which was the average price you’d pay for pre rolls.

there was a light awkward silence in between you two. as you still were in his store, lighting up the blunt there with your pink lighter. inhaling the smoke and coughing as you exhaled. fezco chuckled a bit, as he clearly noticed you didn’t smoke often, for sure, he thought.

“you don’t smoke a lot, ain’t you?” he asked. his voice deep and raspy yet suddenly bringing comfort. you chuckled awkwardly proving his theory right.

“i guess i just do it when i have a lot on my mind” you muttered softly. he bummed in understanding, but wanting to know more. you both exhaled and inhaled at the same time, the smell of weed spreading through the tiny store.

“so life’s been tuff, i’m guessin?” he asked. you nodded.

“you could say that, or you could say my friends definitely hate me”

he eyebrows furrowed.

“those ain’t real friends then” he stated. you pouted, letting out a cloud of smoke again. squinting to look at him, his blue eyes staring right at your c/e. you shrugged, brushing it off, but you knew he had a point kinda.

“i don’t know. maddy and cass are like so close to me i just can’t let them go” you said. fez eyes widened at the names. he put the puzzle pieces together, how had he not noticed? you were the girl that was always dancing with maddy, cassie kat and bb. he was snapped back to reality once there was that, silence, again.

“oh so you friends with them?” he asked.

“i don’t really know where we stand. you made a good point”

he let out a teasing grin. you smiled back leaning against the counter which he was sitting in. letting the breeze let your hair wave. fez admiring your eyes and how shiny they look, even if you were starting to squint them because of the weed hitting you already. he didn’t know why you even bothered to stay and talk to him. especially someone that would hang out with those types of people.

you never had someone that bothered to listen as well. half the time it was brushed off by your friends boys drama or whatever the fuck. you were never really payed attention, but you were to blindsided and didn’t see the truth. fezco made you come to realization. you admired him for that. even if it was just a simple conversation. no strings attached.

you looked down at your blunt. it was already small. which meant your smoke sesh was done, you were satisfied. surprisingly, you didn’t think the weed was the thing that satisfied you the most. it was definitely fez’s company, at least now you knew you you could come to when you needed to let it out, even if you two weren’t close.

“i gotta go, my moms gonna beat my ass if i’m not home by the time she told me to”

he chuckled.

“shitttt, you gon leave me like that?”

you laughed. letting out a genuine smile. which fez felt like he absolutely folded, your smile seeming like a rey of sunshine.

“thanks for letting me talk to you though” you stopped. “i enjoyed it”

“whenever you need me, you know where to find me”

your cheeks flushed red. screaming in the inside. walking backwards to leave and waving goodbye to him. your reaction automatically telling fez, you would definitely be coming more often.

…

after the cute little conversation between the two, you did what fez told you. you knew where to find him, and so you did.

every day you would come over to his liquor store. not for weed, more for fezco. just for him. every conversation you had with him was like a breath of fresh air in between all the fire that was surrounding your life. whether it be your parents divorce, or your friend drama thingy, he was there every step of it to make sure you weren’t alone. you did the exact same thing to.

“i’m planning to go to college, after senior year. maybe ucla, berkeley i don’t know. i just wanna make my parents proud” you told him. leaning against the counter. he looked at you with a fond expression, admiring your desire to go to college.

“you a smart girl. if non of them accept you, imma have to send a full ass essay explaining to them what they missed out on”

you giggled at his caring tone.

you both continued talking about, school , college other shit like that. you expressed your passion on starting your own business, definitely modeling or something. for high fashion brands. fez talked to you about why he had dropped out, you obviously understood and felt bad for him as he described his life. it seemed as if he never had a childhood, it had been taken away from him because of all the drug stuff. that’s why fez told you if he wasn’t able to go to college, you definitely could for him.

giggled and smiles were shared a bit more. ash peeked through the refrigerator, his eyes squinting and eyebrows furrowing seeing you definitely over heels for his brother. then after a few more long minutes you smiled again. genuine and fez returning that smile with a flirty grin. inside ash wanted to vomit, but he was curious of the girl he had been watching for the last weeks.

fezco walked inside the room again, sighing. ash followed his figure as he went to sit down on the chair next to ash.

“youre fucking wipped dude, it’s gross” ash said which made fez look up at his brother acting dumb. ash scoffed.

“don’t act like you don’t know what the fuck i’m talking about. you were obviously flirting with that girl” he pointed out.

“nah man i wasn’t flirting. y/ns just nice and we was.. talkin that’s it”

ash just snorted. making fezco grab a joint on the little table and lighting it up. pulling it up to his lips while he started to randomly think about, you. he wasn’t quite sure where you both were at this point in your guy’s relationship. it definitely wasn’t a just friends thing that’s for sure. it was more than that at least he felt it was. you also had that feeling too, the both of you oblivious of each others feelings leaving ash to just watch as the two fell more in love every day.

…

the days passed. you still hadn’t heard from your friends. which for some reason, started to be the last thing on to it mind. normally that’s all you’d be thinking about, stressing over to be specific, but everything’s changed. by changed, it meant the momment fezco came in to your life, and you came in to fezs.

it suprised rue when you told her about fez. basically how wipped you were for him. the tone in voice you used when you talked about him was definitely a huge clue. you’d been talking to rue more often, wether it be about fez or just random shit on your mind. you’d also been hanging out with her and fez at the store a lot often, maybe just to fuck around for a while, smoke or simply just having fezcos presence there.

you knocked on fezs front door. the rain hitting you as you tried to hold on to your sobs hoping it wouldn’t make it obvious that you were feeling like shit. your parents had had a crazy fight that night. with them both yelling at eachother, but then something that never happened, happened. they started getting violent. you didn’t know what to do at that momment. all you wanted to do was run. probably escape from everything. you didn’t think weed could help you this time.

the door cracked open. fezcos eyes meeting your sad ones as you stared down, your hair covering your face as you pulled fez into a hug you so needed right now, crying into his shoulder.

“woah woah woah” he said. you sniffed in response, looking up at him, mascara on your cheeks and your makeup smeared across your face, messy.

“is it fine if i stay here for a while?” you asked.

“of course.”

…

when you first moved in with fez it was definitely unexpected. especially for ash who was still doubting you were good enough for his brother. you could definitely tell every time he would test you. you found it cute, the way he did everything to make sure his brother was making the right choice.

he didn’t like you at first. thought you were some junkie. that wasn’t the case at all though. you were really fucking smart. probably spending most of your time just reading and writing essays and poems, in the notebook you’d had since middle school occasionally using it as a diary to let everything out.

he noticed how much you loved to take care of people, wether that be comforting fez when he came back from a really tuff day, or ash when he was feeling like shit or just really needed someone he was only 14 after all. you were pretty much always there. and eventually he understood why his brother had fallen in love with this girl.

you and fezco were both in bed. he smoked his weed as you had a book in your hands, your hair up and your glasses on concentrating on every word on the book reading it, as a cloud of smoke appeared next to you, looking over at fez who pointed the blunt your detection offering it to you, you accepted as you took it in and closed your book.

“you ever think about the life you’d have after college or some shit?” fez asked, you furrowed your eyebrows thinking about his random question wisely. you sighed.

“probably live in the city, i like the skyline. it makes me happy you know? especially the lights at night, it’s really beautiful. once my parents took me to la at night, with the palm trees and everything it was amazing” you said. even though fez had a completely different, it didn’t matter. i’m every form of way he could possibly live his life, the picture in his mind always contained you in it, there’s not a single one that doesn’t have your comforting smile on it.

“you?”

“live in a fucking farm for sure with them cows and sheep , you feel me?”

you chuckled, receiving an unexpected response.

“we’d live separately then, that would definitely suck. cant really go a day without seeing you to be honest” you said. fez looked down at you, as you made contact with him. your eyes basically shining as hard as when you first saw him at the liquor store, smoking his blunt like he was right now. it took fezco a momment to let what you said sink in.

“whatchu mean by that?”

“that i love you too much to leave you”

you finally said it. the 3 letter word that for some reason had been so hard to let out of your mouth. you looked away kinda embarrassed hoping you didn’t make it awkward all the sudden. you only could hope that tus wouldn’t ruin your relationship. you’d gotten so far, you weren’t about to mess this friendship up.

“shit, sorry that was-“

“i love you too”

…

that night everything changed. it was time you and fez stepped out of the friendzone taking a huge step forward in your relationship. you two became inseparable, literallly. your physical affection was something you two became more comfortable with.

ash noticing everything.

occasionally throwing sarcastic commentaries like “don’t fuck on the couch, jesus” or “ew” whoever you’d kiss or whatever the matter may be. but deep down ash was internally cheering being basically both of your guys number one fan, so much so he could basically start a fan account everything.

months passed quicker than usual. you started school, which meant you had to see THEM again. sure you weren’t really happy, because then everything would come back to you but at least you knew you had fez and ash on your side, your family.

every month seemed to be like it was in 2x speed. you’d been doing well in class, doing your homework on time thanks to fez laying down in your bed smoking while you rehearsed your college essay to him for the 100th time still not convinced if it felt right, but he was always telling you to not stress out that much.

“some colleges will be smart enough to accept you, others will have missing fucking braincells” he said.

you’d submitted your essay and now all you could do was wait and worry.

the school year continued to go on. you still only talked to rue, fez picked you up from school now, and you still avoided maddy and cassie. they seemed to avoid eachother as well. that was until one day after school.

you walked to the back at the school, looking for fezs car before walking to the parking lot. until you heard a voice yell your name.

“y/n! wait! please!”

you looked back to see maddy running towards you. she embraced you to a hug. your eyes widening and tightening her grip on to you. you chuckled a bit.

“i’m so so sorry, i was being a total fucking cunt” she said. you hugged her back finally. it was nice to finally have one of your childhood best friend back again. you’d waited all summer and half the year of her and finally she was back and she definitely looked healthier, you pulled away.

“you’re fine maddy, don’t be sorry. i should’ve put in the effort to make sure you were okay as well”

she shook her head disagreeing. you turned back at saw fezcos car, maddy looked at you and then at fezco, widening her mouth as she got an idea of what was going on. you hadn’t told her about fezco.

“bitch…are you hooking up with fezco?!” she squeeled. pulling you into a hug again. you laughed at her excited tone in voice remembering how much maddy had hoped for you to get a boyfriend. she’d always talk to you about how much you needed to be in a romantic relationship.

“we’re dating” you chuckled. “and i have to go but text me so we can make plans alright? love you!” you said, starting to walk away.

“you better, we have a lot of shit to catch up on!” she yelled, you turned back at nodded laughing. it was good to finally be back.

…

you were happy again.

you started hanging out more with maddy, catching up on all the shit like she said. you also still talked to rue, not as much as you used to but definitely still consistent enough to consider her still as a friend.

fezco on the other hand, had taken you to a million dates already. wether it be the beach, a restaurant, the mall, anywhere you wanted to go hell take you and he will make sure you enjoy the fuck out of it. and you did.

you two had fallen so in love with eachother. something you’d always been afraid of because of your view of love shown by your parents and how sometimes in can really cause to hurt eachother it really sucked.

it was already march. which meant the acceptance letters would be coming in, some not luckiers than others. you’d been waiting for a few weeks now, for the email to come in to your computer. you’d find yourself sitting infront of the computer for hours simply just waiting.

“don’t worry about it ma, i’m sure one of them will accept you”

fezco would say, ash would agree, but he didn’t really want you to leave. so didn’t fez he much rather you stay with them until the day he fucking dies but you had a life to live, placed to head, money to earn, too much would be waisted if you’d just stick with him, he thought.

finally after weeks, the notification on your email app rang, quickly you opened it. the first think on the email saying.

“Congratulations Y/N!”

“no fucking way.” you said, slapping your mouth with your hands. you yelled as fez and ash came in to your room, hugging you as tears strolled down your cheeks, this time much for a much different reason than the time you showed up at fezs for the first time.

it was the momment you’d been prepared for. you’d waited your whole life for this momment. and for some reason you couldn’t help but want to stay. but you knew you wanted to continue striking for your dreams maybe become a model, poet or writer wherever destiny takes you is where you believe you would succeed.

it took fez a while and ash to realize that they wouldn’t see you for a while. it was hard for both of them to leave you at the front of the university, after a 4 hour drive. there tired faces, leaving your suitcases at the front of the dorms. you just stood there for a minute, and then hugged them both tightly.

“ i love you guys” you said.

“imma miss you a lot surprisingly” ash said. fez sucked his teeth elbowing his brother making ash scoff and you giggle as you held to fez a bit longer not wanting to let go.

“i want you coming back with that doctorates degree or whatever the fuck” fezco said. you chuckled nodding and sniffing. finally exchanging your final goodbyes and i love yous.

this would be the new chapter of your life, a blank page ready for it to be filled with memories.

.

.

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