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willownwisp · 7 months

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love on me

iv. you're exciting, boy come find me. (di!leon x fem reader)

author's note: yayyyyyy, fourth entry !

cw: NSFW MDNI. love hotels. p in v. oral (f receiving and m receiving).

part 4 of ree's leon valentine's advent

If he had been born under different circumstances, Leon swears he'd surely become a beach bum. Better an idle man rather than get smacked by bioweapons day in and night out, not only that, but have the top brass of good ol' U.S of A breathing down his neck constantly. Yet, he's a man who has seen things, he'd already vowed to protect whatever and whoever he can. Cold and cruel this life may be.

So he loves the warmth of the sun on him, lying down on a sun lounger sipping on dry drinks. Enjoy the view in the tropics of crystalline beaches and white sand on his feet, letting loose and relaxing himself.

Unfortunately, after the events of Alcatraz, maybe he's had enough of the sea for now. He gives himself a pat on the back, takes out a chunk of his savings to go to Japan because you've been eyeing it. You said you were interested in the food, culture, and sights.

So here he is, you in hand, his cute girlfriend clinging onto his bicep like a bunny that hopped in excitement at every interesting thing you see because you're adorable to him like that.

You were extra flirty too, Leon had chalked it up to you being over the moon because you were finally in Japan after so long of dreaming it, he's smug and pleased with himself, he likes the good boyfriend brownie points, but you had other things in mind.

"Bunny, aren't you cold?"

Leon cocked his head to the side to take a look at you, in your skirt, crop top, and cardigan combo. He's not the type of man to control women and their clothing. Come on, don't people listen to Beyonce? Girls run the world. He doesn't really know who the fuck Beyonce is but he does know Sherry listens to the song.

"Nope."

You give him a cheeky grin, shaking your head.

"Besides, you'll warm me up anyway."

You say this with a wink as you both card through the busy streets of Tokyo as Leon gives you an innocent grin, oblivious to your intent.

"Of course I would bunny. I take care of my pretty girl."

He coos, before giving you a chaste kiss on your forehead, you giggle at how he missed your innuendo before smirking.

"I wanna go somewhere."

You reply as you slide your hand to lace both your fingers together, his calloused ones enveloping your own as you all but drag him to the busy streets.

You turn him around to an alley, google maps pulled up on your free hand as you show him, what seems to be a rather flashy building illuminated by red neon lights and blinged up signs. It was like the establishment wanted to be purposefully flamboyant.

"What am I looking at bunny?"

You flash him a toothy grin, Leon knows that glint of mischief in your eyes as you reply.

"A love hotel."

Leon is floored.

"A what now? A motel? Bunny, if you were horny I'd be hauling your ass back to the hotel room right now."

He breathes out, smoke escaping from his lips as he quirks an eyebrow at you, but you giggle.

"This is different!"

No shit.

Leon thinks inwardly as sapphire eyes scan the building once more. Motels for sex used to be inconspicuous during his time. He really is getting old.

"You wanna check in bunny?"

You nod your head quite excitedly with a huge grin on her face, there's no mistaking it. Your eagerness, and Leon relents. Of course you would want a vacation and his cock. No surprise there.

Leon sighs and squeezes your hand, being the gentleman that he is, leading you inside of the garish establishment. He'd be lyin g if he says he isn't the least bit interesting, you were always the more exciting and free-spirited one.

On the reception counter, he waits for the key, with you standing just beside him, hands still entwined. As Leon grew curious, you grew embarrassed. The lobby was decorated with red. Red hearts, mirrors, sensual posters, and oh god, the brochures on a nearby rack that had photos of toys and costumes

You're fairly aware that love hotels are popular, but now that you're gonna experience this for yourself, bashfulness and your own eagerness had you blushing.

Leon could see you, feel how you'd gone and overheated in his arms and you both aren't in the room yet. He chuckles, squeezing you. You got him going now, as a shiver runs down his spine.

"Are you interested in a specific suite? You can take a look on our brochure here."

The receptionist asks and Leon shakes his head.

"We're fine with anything."

The receptionist nods, handing Leon the key as he cooly leads you to the designated room. Despite his laidback demeanor, Leon is already briskly walking, adrenaline in his veins. As you both reached the designated room, he eases the key in the lock as it opens with a low clicking sound. He leads you inside first, following behind but not before locking the door while you turn the lights on. Another clicking sound, the lighting is a kind of low red and Leon blinks as he follows in, you both inspect the room with amusement and fascination. There inside the center of the room is a queen round bed, with a heart-shaped headboard, covered in satin sheets and what seems to be a confetti of hearts on the foot of the bead, even the pillows were heart-shaped, and the most ridiculous part were the mirrors. Everywhere. Mirrors on the wall, on the ceiling, mirrors of various shapes and sizes at each of the walls. Red, heart-shaped lounge chairs and a faux tiger rug. Gaudy as the room is, it certainly looks like a place to fuck alright.

Your eyes slowly adjust to the light, but you were beaten by Leon, who is certainly not the least bit captivated by the interior choices. He did, however, wanted to fuck you in it. He's already dropped his coat on the floor before proceeding to toss his shirt away as he stares at you with an amused smirk while you stood speechless.

"You embarrassed now?

He asks while putting his hands on your waist before turning you around to face him. Face his smug face smirking at you.

"Who? Me?"

You reply with a cocky tone.

"Nah."

You wink at him and he chuckles, he takes your hand pulling you to him as he strides to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Figures," he shrugs "You always wanna fuck me. Don't you, bunny?"

He coos before kissing your palms, your fingertips brush across his lower lip, and he kisses your fingertips one by one, the small act only making you shiver.

"Is that a problem?"

You ask him as that familiar warmth pools in your stomach, he had just finished unbuckling his belt and is now rubbing his hands on your thighs, before peeling your skirt off of you.

He gives you that same handsome grin, there was a sparkle in his eyes and you blush. You take off the rest of your upper clothing to help him before Leon pulls you to sit on his lap, his pretty bunny.

He presses his lips into yours in a sweet kiss, before sweeping his tongue on your lower lip, a cue to open your mouth, proceeding to stick his tongue inside your mouth, tasting you and you sink into his lap. The kiss a passionate tango and as you both part for air, his lips connects to yours with a thin strand of saliva. He swipes it with his thumb before chuckling.

"You're so fucking pretty."

He breathes out before lifting you up, only to place you gently on the bed. Leon's eyes roam over your voluptuous figure, smirking at the dampness on your underwear, he kneels down, peeling that last pesky article of clothing off of you, already admiring how swollen your clit is already.

"So fucking hot too."

He murmurs against your skin as he trails kisses on your ankle, your knees, and up your thighs.

Your breath hitches on your throat, you feel yourself soaking the sheets with every kiss.

Your blissed out face doesn't escape Leon and he smirks, he presses another kiss on your pelvis, before he presses a kiss on your clit. It was like a greeting, in his silly mind.

His cold breath against fans against your skin before he takes a long, languid lick on your pussy.

Your hands immediately reach down to grip fistfuls of his dark hair, pulling him closer as he licked over your slit, lapping at your essence.

"Fuck, Leon."

You whimper, tossing your head back and Leon smirks against your pussy. He always liked seeing you coming undone with his mouth. His tongue dips into your entrance, the wet appendage flicking and curling inside you.

He presses his thumb on your clit while his mouth still worked on you, relishing in your sweet taste and breathy moans while you could only shut her eyes closed and sob his name helplessly. He doesn't let up, he pulls his tongue out to wrap your clit in his warm mouth and sucking it, inserting two fingers inside your sopping wet pussy. Scissoring and curling inside you while his tongue flicks and sucks on the hood of your clit. It doesn't take look that you gush around his fingers in an orgasm and he smirks. He let's you breath, admiring your flushed face as he stood up. Takes his boxers off and his thick cock springs out, already erect leaking with precum. He stands beside your face. "Suck."

Despite his domineering voice, he looks at you with soft eyes and you turn your body to his direction, you sit up on the bed. With a lick of your lips, your fingers trail over his abs, before your tongue sweeps across his slit, swiping it clean with his precum and he grunts, his body tensing in your touch.

"Fuck yeah."

He hisses through gritted teeth as your tongue swirls around the head before engulfing his dick with your mouth. You dip your head, swallowing him deeper as your hands grab his waits, until his length reaches the back of your throat, knowing he was looking, you don't break eye contact and you suck his cock, thick on your tongue and rolling your eyes while he looks.

"Shit, bunny. So pretty sucking cock like that."

Leon's voice is throaty and you know he likes what he sees, his dick practically jumped in your mouth and you moan. The vibrations make him shiver violently, and he grunts.

"Goddamn."

He breathes, patting your cheeks, A signal for you to stop and you peels yourself off him with a pout like he had just taken your favorite lollipop. Which is true, he is after all, your favorite lollipop.

"Don't be upset now. You suck cock so good, I won't last long."

You both laugh in unison as he breathes in to calm himself, while stroke his cock, he twirls a finger around.

"Turn around for me, bunny. On your fours if you wanna be good."

You hum in response, turning your back to bend over for him. You arch your back, with your ass perked up against him. In that moment, you understand why Leon wanted to fuck you from behind. The image of you bent over and him standing up, his dick plush on your ass is reflected in all of the mirrors on the walls and you let out a scandalized gasp while Leon only chuckles, sensing your embarrassment.

"Wanna see you moan while I pound you into that fucking mattress."

Leon winks at you from the mirror and you see his smug expression reflected everywhere. He kisses your ass cheeks, he's too horny out his damn mind now. He's inside you with one strong thrust, his thick cock all the way inside and he shuts his eyes close. Stilling for a moment to let you adjust to his sized as you close your eyes and whimper.

"Jesus Christ… no matter how many times I fuck this pussy."

He groans, sweeping his auburn strands before steadying his grip on your waist.

"It never gets used to me. Poor little thing."

The fullness makes you squirm and he savors the addictive feeling of your walls clenching on his cock desperate to get him to just fit. You're pressed against the mattress, your pathetic moans muffled by the sheets.

When he starts to thrust, finding that rhythm, your body jerks forward with every rock of his hips. His body moves to cover your own.

"Watch us baby."

He whispers, his tongue sweeping on the shell of your ear and you could only whimper. Clutching the sheets as he finds his rhythm with his hips rocking against yours.

"Look. Don't hide."

He raps before tugging on your hair to forcibly lift up your face while his free hand tug on your arms. You find yourself feeling small with Leon's muscular body covering you. The muscles on his arm flex as both his hands are now grabbing your arms and your hair. The way his muscles pulled and flexed as his hips slams against her ass, the way your ass bounced on him, the thin layer of sweat that coated his torso, the way his mouth hung open in ragged breaths, the way your breasts bounce at every thrust. You feel so turned on at the sight it was crazy. It looked so erotic. This only elicits louder moans from you, while you move back against him, meeting his thrusts.

"Shit!" Leon groans, clenching his jaw. This positions and rhythm was blowing his mind, coupled with how your face twists into pleasure and the heat that coiled in his stomach. This was so fucking hot, he really wouldn't last long.

"Come here" He whispers, planting a kiss on your shoulder, before pulling out which makes you whine in displeasure. He chuckles, both his hands grab you, picking you up. Manhandling your ass to pin you down the mattress. "Shh," he coos. "Not done with you yet bunny."

He chuckles before kissing your nose, guiding himself back inside your pussy. You chuckle as you look at the mirror on the ceiling.

"You've always had a nice ass."

You tease, despite the breathlessness of your voice and Leon only cocks his head to the side in confusion before following your line of sight, remembering that there was a mirror atop the ceiling and he chuckles, a rush of desire running through his veins with the sight of tangled limbs.

"Yeah, so?" His tone full of sass as he smirks. "Jealous much?"

You laugh as he places his fingers under your jawline, bringing your face close before crashing his lips down yours in a sloppy kiss, before moving inside you again. His pace rougher and faster, cock slamming down your pussy like a freight train as you lock your legs around his waist tight, bringing him close before you bite down on his shoulder and Leon hisses a curse.

He peels your legs off of him first before hooking your legs above his shoulders. He growls, this position slips him in deeper, and you squeeze his cock tighter.

"Holy fucking shit!

He exclaims, it's no secret that you both are vocal in the bedroom. You both love verbally assuring each other that the pleasure is mutual, you were always the louder one, but this time it was Leon. Completely pussy whipped with every clench of your walls.

"Got me drunk on this tight fucking pussy."

He grunts and your hands reach out to grab his hips, slamming down on you rougher with every thrust. Your nails digging on the flesh of his waist and he moans. His jaw slacked, sweat dripping down.

"I'm gonna cum inside yeah? Gonna fill this tight pussy up for making me this rabid."

He laughs as his thrusts become erratic. He knows you're close, just like you know that he's close as well.

"Goddamn, got me addicted to pussy."

He moans and your toes curl as he slams into you one last time. His body tensing up, shooting ropes of his cum inside you as you both climax together.

"Yeah, bunny. So good for me. Creaming on this cock like a good girl."

He soothes you, kissing your forehead as you tremble beneath him in the intensity of your orgasm, he looks at you intently. Rubbing your body gently. Not pulling out yet as you gush around his cock.

"You're so pretty when you cum."

He hums. You both cuddle up for a minute to calm down before he pulls out.

Much to Leon's surprise, you whine.

"Lovey… don't pull out yet…"

Leon chuckles, pulling you into his arms to cradle your body.

"Yeah? Give me a minute. Have mercy on the lil guy."

You giggle softly, you were feeling fuzzy and the throbbing in your pussy suggests you were not fully sated yet, and with the way Leon looks at you like a hawk, he wants another too.

"There's nothing little about that."

You retort, giving his chest a little slip and he has a proud look on his face.

"Yeah? Maybe I'll compare it with those next time. Gonna use it on you."

He winks, pointing at the assortment of toys just neatly placed on the bedside table that went unnoticed in the heat of your lovemaking, as you both share a hearty laugh.

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storiesofsvu · 1 month

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Decadent Desires Ch 16

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader warnings: language, alcohol, smut, oral, life chats about shitty childhood experiences. nothing too bad.

For a little insight to the resort, check out these vids: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMrqQUKe3/ (for the sake of the story we ARE pretending that this is an all inclusive & food/drinks aren’t an extra cost!)

Emily spent the next couple of days flipping through brochures and scrolling through various locations the Waldorf had but nothing pulled her attention like the one in the Maldives did. Each time she had a spare second to let her brain drift from the task at hand she found herself daydreaming of white sand beaches, stunning turquoise water and the luxury of experiencing all from your own private villa. She needed to go, whether alone, with a friend or with you she honestly didn’t even really care at this point.

So she began to plant the seeds, slowly, spreading them out over time and making sure to nurture them, casually having them drop into conversation. She knew she couldn’t just spring and entire vacation on you, there were multiple things to think of, arrange and take care of before any of that could happen.

First it was a casual conversation the following week, asking about the info drop at Heather’s house, if you really didn’t celebrate Christmas or if she was just teasing, that you had some fun traditions with friends for that time of year. When you said you didn’t, your tradition was usually solo pizza and sweatpants, she could successfully check off the first box on her list.

Second, she lucked out, a mutual friend posting a beachside selfie to their Instagram story that she was able to send to you, her caption reading ‘must be nice’. A few seconds later your reply came through, ‘god, there are few things I wouldn’t do to be oceanside in the sun right now.’

Third, you were out for dinner together at what was a pretty trendy and touristy spot in town and when you server greeted you they asked if you were on vacation. You both laughed it off and after they left you let out a soft groan, muttering about how you hadn’t been on a vacation since the last election. Emily half teasing, asked if you even got vacation time with a job like yours and you chuckled, explaining that Heather was nice enough that if someone from her team didn’t use their vacation time for one calendar year it would carry over to the next, you had about four months racked up, sitting there getting dusty and practically begging to be used.

The fourth and final nod for her to bite the bullet was when she was leaving the Waldorf one morning, the concierge calling out to her, waving her over with a warm smile. They asked if she’d done any thinking about the Maldives, saying that reservations were filling up pretty quickly and they didn’t want her to miss out on the opportunity. They went as far to say that they’d put a thirty six hour hold on a villa for her and that she should definitely think about it, it was a once in a lifetime experience after all. It only took a minute as she chewed on her lip, thinking about her own piled up vacation time and how happy Bailey would be to have her out of his hair for at least a week and she was pulling out her card.

It originally hadn’t meant to be a surprise, she had been planning on actually bringing it up to you, seeing if you were interested and had the actual and emotional time and energy for something like this. There was technically still a chance all you wanted to do over the break was rot in your bed eating takeout and not see a single human at all. Which is why she spent more time fidgeting around with dates than even making the decision to go in the first place, making sure you should have time on both sides of the trip to do whatever it was you’d want to not celebrate the season. She reminded herself that this was nothing out of the ordinary, this wasn’t some huge, luxurious, grand gesture or anything, sugar babies were very regularly taken on vacations like this.

So what if it just so happened that The Maldives were a little fancier than Florida?

Your coat was already on, unbuttoned and loosely opened in the front, bag dangling from your elbow as you stopped in the doorway to Heather’s office.

“You wanted to see me before I left?” You asked, lingering just a few steps into the room, “and please don’t let this drag on too long, I’ve still got to go find a couple of new dresses before dinner.”

Heather glanced up from her laptop, “oh, I just wanted to let you know your vacation request was approved, glad to see you’re finally using up some of that time.”

Your head tilted, nose scrunching slightly as you stepped further into the room, “are you sure you’ve got the right person? Amelia and I do have incredibly similar work emails…I only put in for three days.”

She turned back to her laptop, clicking through a few things before looking back up at you, “definitely not Amelia.” She shrugged, “you’re getting paid for the time off, you may as well take advantage of it.”

“I—” Before you could fully formulate a response, there was a clatter of noise behind you and you turned just in time to see Tony catching himself on the doorframe, nearly tripping over his own feet as he entered the office.

“Oh good, I managed to catch you before you left, McGee just would not shut up—”

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked, glancing between him and Heather, the grin slowly beginning to curl her lips up.

Tony shrugged, nodding toward your boss, “she told me to show up at three, pick up her black card and take you shopping for some summer clothes and the sluttiest bikinis we could find.”

“Bikinis?” You raised a brow, turning back to Heather who simply smirked, handing Tony her card and waving the two of you off.

“Well, get going. Would hate for you to be late for dinner with Emily.”

“Emily…” Tony taunted, “ooooooo… now we’ve got a naaaaammee.” He began to prod at your side, jabbing at your ribs before you punched him in the stomach.

“You stop talking right now and maybe I’ll even model some of the bikinis for you.”

He immediately froze, mimicking zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key as his eyes sparkled and you rolled your own with a scoff before dragging him out of the office.

Obviously, Emily had absolutely no reason to be worried about you being shocked or turning down the accidental surprise. But if she had any lingering hesitancies, they were certainly blown away the second the jet touched down and you were escorted to your own private yacht to journey across the ocean to the island resort.

Greeted with fresh warm hand towels and given a mini tour of the boat you were offered a variety of drinks, choosing coffee first to wake up from the plane ride followed by a champagne toast to kick off the start of your vacation. The journey to the island was only similar to a ferry in that it was a boat over water, you were given free reign of the vessel and even offered the opportunity to drive through the calm waters. With the sun basking down on you, most of the time was spent on the roof of the boat, picking through a handful of tapas and getting endless refills of champagne, the true sense of relaxation soothing deep through both of your bodies.

Resort staff greeted you at the island, whisking your bags away for easy transport while you were offered fresh watermelon juice to check in with, making sure that all of your accommodations were set up properly. A brief tour of the main lodge was given, a few of the dining and gift options shown off before you were escorted to a golf cart for a tour of the full private island and all of the amenities you had to take advantage of over the next week and a half. Emily’s hand naturally fell to your thigh while you rode, her thumb stroking at your skin and you couldn’t help but pick up her hand in yours.

Arriving at your overwater villa you almost instantly wanted to scold Emily for how much she must have spent on the place, but between the staff making sure you had no more questions and your distraction by the luxury resort, your thoughts were quickly washed away. The first door opened to the large outdoor space, bicycles for getting around the island on your own, a large cushy porch swing and cozy seating area that was covered, looking out into the ocean. Beyond that was the sun soaked piece of the porch, multiple loungers looking directly into the water, nets sitting directly over the ocean to relax in and if that wasn’t enough, your own large private pool and a hanging daybed on the other end of the area to tie it all together.

Through another door and you entered the inside of the villa, floor to ceiling windows that could slide open to let the fresh salt air breeze around you no matter what time of day. A king sized bed that you just knew was going to be the comfiest thing you’d ever sleep in facing the windows for ample sunset views, large television on an angle from the bed for those late night movie binges and of course long black out curtains for those mornings you just wanted to sleep in. The bedroom had its own mini bar and coffee station, a complimentary bottle of wine and basket of fruit and treats left out for the two of you to enjoy. The small hallway leading to the bathroom had a glass floor to see straight through to the crystal waters. The bathroom itself was huge, two glass walled standing showers and a tub that would easily fit both of you facing yet another wall of sliding doors.

“Emily…” you breathed out, turning back to face her, “this is insane.”

“First vacation in four years? I like to think it has to be pretty memorable.”

“No kidding.” You replied, eyes still scanning around the villa as you leant in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “I don’t even know where to start…” You couldn’t help yourself turning on your toes trying to soak it all in.

She chuckled softly, leaning in and kissing the back of your neck, “well… I heard you might have a couple of new suits… you could start with one of those.”

“I do suppose working on my tan would be a good first choice.” You glanced over your shoulder at her, a gleam in your eye as you practically skipped back to the bedroom to change, eager to take advantage of the warmth and sun.

You’d been sprawled across one of the outdoor loungers enjoying the sun while finally getting a chance to start on one of the many books in your to read pile for the majority of the morning. An empty cup of iced coffee on the table beside you along with a plate of very succulent and incredibly fresh fruit you were still occasionally picking at. Your finger slid through a page, realizing you’d come to the end of your current chapter and your head rolled back toward the villa, Emily had been napping when you first came out but she wasn’t in the bed any longer.

Curiosity (and the desire for a coffee refill) got the best of you, letting out a content sigh as you stood from the lounger, padding back up the deck to the villa. Emily had pulled a cover up over her swim suit, sat at one of the chairs with her laptop in front of her. You clicked your tongue, but she didn’t seem to notice you returning inside as you walked up behind her, your arm reaching over her shoulder to gently shut the laptop.

“Emily…” you warned, your lips brushing at the side of her neck, “now is not the time.”

“Just one—” She was cut off from even unlocking her phone as you plucked it from her hand, nipping at her neck.

“You pick up your work phone one more time and I’m throwing it into the ocean.” You murmured into her ear, your hand sliding up the back of her neck, threading through her hair as you moved it off to one side. “I didn’t even bring my work phone. C’mon.”

With a slight sigh, she pushed back from the desk, standing up to face you, her first thought that you were going to drag her into the ocean. Instead she was met with your hands toying with the knot of her cover up, gently nudging her further inside the villa.

“You left the BAU in JJ’s very capable hands, if there’s some sort of freak emergency, they can call your personal cell.” You got the robe undone, letting it drape over her shoulders, “you deserve this vacation as much as I do, if not even more. So relax,” the back of her knees hit the bed, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she noticed the way your eyes were darkening. “You need it, and I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure you come back from here as refreshed as possible.”

“Sounds like a pretty good offer.” She teased and you laughed.

“It’s a guarantee.”

With a gentle nudge from you, Emily fell back onto the bed, shifting until she was comfortable laying against the lush pillows and you dropped over her. Your mouth returned to her neck, pressing sticky kisses into it as your hands began to roam. She could feel the warmth wafting off your sun soaked skin, the slightest hint of coconut from your sunscreen and you had completely invaded her senses. Any singular thought about work gone, every worry melting away a little bit more each time your lips brushed over her body.

Emily let out a soft moan as you trailed down her collarbone, fingers shifting the fabric of her suit to the side to suck a nipple into your mouth, bringing it to a peak before repeating the action on the other side. You kissed, licked and sucked your way across her stomach and down her body until you were settled in between her legs, fingers slipping into the bottoms of her swim suit, sliding it to the side to give you full access to her pussy. Her breath caught in her throat as you blew cool air onto it, fingertips brushing feather light over her slit before pressing into her clit and her eyes fell shut.

“Fuck…”

“You like that?” You murmured, fingers running through her folds again, this time pressing a little harder, dipping into her wetness before swirling around her clit and she let out a low moan.

Rather than wait for a response you leant forward, tongue swiping through her folds, flicking at her clit and your lips curved into a grin at the sound that came from between her lips. Your mouth eagerly wrapped around her, tongue dipping into her cunt, groaning over the sweet taste of her juices. Emily’s hands quickly found their way into your hair, tugging at the up do while trying not to grind herself onto your face.

She could feel the pleasure flying through her already, little sparks shooting off every time your tongue brushed through her, her pussy getting wetter and wetter as her breath started to pick up. In any other situation she felt like she’d be a little embarrassed about how quickly she was turned on and by how much. How the simple movements of your mouth against her cunt had her practically whimpering already, her lower lip trapped between her teeth. However there was something so incredibly different about this, the wide open doors, the entire ocean ten feet from the bed almost feeling like the two of you were exposed to the world when you were actually in your own little bubble. Rather than the sounds of the city, honking cars, people yelling, constant traffic all she could hear was the gentle waves of the ocean, the occasional bird and of course you groaning into her pussy. The entire thing was wildly erotic yet intimate and somehow the most relaxing thing in the world.

As if you could sense the little bit that was Emily still holding back you reluctantly pulled your mouth off of her, your thumb replacing it, pressing through her folds and rubbing at her clit.

“Don’t hold back, there’s no need to keep quiet.” You murmured, nipping gently at her inner thigh and her lip burst free, a gasp coming from the back of her throat.

“Shit!” She felt her hips buck up off the mattress as your mouth returned between her legs, this time wrapping around her clit. “Oh god that’s good.” She couldn’t help but let out a whine, “more, please!”

Your tongue flicked varying patterns across her swollen clit and your hand snuck up between her legs, two fingers easily slipping into her dripping cunt. Her thighs twitched around you, a low swear leaving her lips as her eyes scrunched tighter shut and the fingers in your hair tightened. You wasted no time, crooking your fingers with each thrust until she cried out.

“Fuck! Right there!”

A smirk took over your lips and you increased the pressure on her clit, feeling it throbbing between your lips as her pussy fluttered around your fingers. You picked up the pace, matching the timing that her hips would jump up off the bed, small cries escaping her lips as your fingers continued to brush the sensitive spot over and over again. Each time she felt you pressing just a little bit harder, lingering just a little bit longer and before she knew it her body was shaking, your hands pinning her thighs to the bed as you fucked her through her orgasm.

“Christ.” She muttered, running a hand over her face and you laughed softly.

“Feeling more relaxed?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm…” you grinned wickedly up at her from between her legs, your fingers beginning to smear around her juices, “your words are still pretty coherent, I think I better give it another go.”

She couldn’t even open her mouth to protest before you were back on her and she let out a low moan, head dropping back into the pillows. Every single thought left her, the only thing remaining was the feeling of your mouth, warm and wet on her pussy and the soothing sounds of the ocean as you brought her to her peak another four times.

Neither of you had even realized just how much you both needed the break, away from your time consuming and draining careers, to be so far from society out on your own little slice of heaven over the water. Waking up with the sun daring to peak through the curtains, the sounds and smell of the ocean drifting through the villa was one thing, but getting to truly enjoy it, lounging tangled in the sheets while coffee brewed and breakfast was delivered, half the time drowsing off again until you were truly rested, was a whole different story.

Between enjoying the privacy of your villa, warm ocean water and exploring the resort you definitely got your share of vacation. Dinner down at an extensive beach BBQ, the buffet so long you couldn’t possibly fit everything you wanted on even two plates, surrounded by people having a good time, live music and a DJ to keep everyone entertained. There were movie nights under the stars, a variety of genres to keep everyone happy, the earlier the movie the more PG, the darker the sky got, the more fun was had.

You were allowed to completely relax and be yourselves, there was no worry of having to uphold an image, no one cared about who you were or your reputation. Between that and the privacy of the resort, you were free to do whatever you want, and that included public displays of affection. There were no potential spying eyes of FBI management or staff of other government officials who were always looking for dirt. You were free to be you and more importantly, be together. Emily’s hand playing with yours over the table top, tracing the lines of your palm with her fingertip, your arm interlocking with hers as you walked down the beach, her hand on the small of your back to direct you out of the way of foot traffic. The freedom brought a whole new level of peace to an already incredible vacation.

Back at the villa one night after a few rounds of trivia accompanied by fruity cocktails, the hotel staff had made a nightly round to freshen up the mini bar and offer to light a fire in the pit on the veranda. Knowing your night was far from over and you’d very much enjoy more time in the fresh air you accepted the offer, Emily grabbing a couple of the smaller blankets to drape over two of the chairs outside. She heard the shower come to a halt in the other room, followed by the swooshing of the door and sounds of you drying off and searching for clothes.

“Hey, you want a beer or some of this sangria?” She called, picking up a few bottles from the mini bar to examine them.

“Oh my god, beer please. No more sugar or I’m gonna wake up with the world’s worst stomach ache.” You called back, tugging on a pair of pj shorts before finally finding a tank top for under your Georgetown hoodie.

Emily had wandered out onto the patio, cracking both beers and placing one down onto the table for you as she got comfortable by the fire. You came out a few minutes later, one of your hands shaking out your wet hair while your eyes were on a couple of smaller bottles in your other hand.

“How much do you know about hair care?” You asked and Emily huffed out a laugh.

“Boxed dye will destroy it, just let it be natural.”

“So no vote on whether argan or coconut oil is better?”

“No.” She chuckled, taking a swig of her beer.

“Whatever.” You shrugged, dropping the two bottles onto the table before scooping up your beer to take a swig, settling in the chair beside her, a happy sigh leaving your lips at the warmth of the fire. Placing your beer down on the table you slid the hair elastic off your wrist, flipping your head over and gathering all your hair up into a ball.

“Okay, no!” Emily protested, her hand smacking your arm.

“What?” You asked, straightening up as you tightened the band.

“Your hair is soaked and even after washing probably coated with a mix of chlorine and salt, you do that and sleep on it, you’re gonna wake up with it matted so bad it’s practically dreadlocks. At least put it in a braid.”

“It’ll be fine.” You shrugged, “and if I try to braid it it’ll be just as messy.”

Emily gave you a side eye glance, her head tilting in near disappointment, “I’m not dealing with your complaining over knots tomorrow, go find a comb and then come here.”

You shot her a glance but put your beer down to search through the villa while Emily picked up the two bottles of serum, reading through the blurbs on the back before choosing one and you returned to the front of her chair. She pulled a cushion off the spare chair, placing it at her feet as she shifted forward so you could settle on it between her knees.

“Sit.”

You did as she asked, plopping down onto the pillow and handing her the comb as you began to tug the elastic out of your hair. You could already hear Emily grumbling behind you at the harsh way you were treating your hair, her hand quickly wrapping around your wrist to stop your movement, taking the elastic from you to delicately remove it from the already forming knots.

Her fingertips slid up the back of your scalp, softly shaking out your locks, slowly combing through to make sure there were no big knots to be worked through gently before she brushed it with the comb. Emily parted your hair, pulling the comb through it until your hair was smooth and you let out a happy sigh, relaxing further against her.

“You want one or two?” She asked, smoothing back a couple of fly aways with her hand.

“I’ve only got one elastic.” You replied, holding it up and she laughed.

“One it is.”

Moving the comb back through your hair once again she began to style it in preparation for the single braid, gathering pieces of your hair between her fingers as the comb found a home on her lap. Somehow every pass of her fingers matched the rhythm of the waves softly crashing against the sand, drifting underneath your villa. Emily hummed happily, her eyes drifting from your head to the horizon.

“God it’s peaceful out here.”

“Tell me about it.” You replied, a dream-like smile on your cheeks. “And a world better than plates clattering, screaming children, adults yelling and overplayed Christmas music. I can only hear Silver Bells so many times before I want to rip my ear drums out.”

Emily laughed, her fingers slowing to fix a couple pieces of hair, “is it just Christmas you skip out on celebrating or is it all holidays?”

“I think most are useless.” You shrugged, “Halloween’s pretty cool but it kinda loses appeal as you age. First you’re too old to trick or treat, then the parties are all about getting wasted. Thanks to the job I get to be incredibly passionate about the Fourth of July, but fuck celebrating much else, there really isn’t a point. It’s not like I often have the time off to fly home for one single night and lousy dinner anyways.”

“That why you leave the country, avoiding your family?” Emily asked with a smirk you couldn’t see and you were quick with the rebuttal.

“I don’t see you itching to get anywhere to bicker over cold potatoes, under seasoned macaroni and overcooked turkey….”

“You’ve got me there.” She replied, earning a small laugh from you. “When was the last time you were home?”

“Years ago.” You groaned, taking a swig of your beer, “I went back the first couple of years after graduating Georgetown. I no longer had the excuse of full time school to focus on and they said they’d pay for my flight and that I deserved a break.”

“Good old fashioned bribery.”

“Exactly.” Your eyes drifted back to the ocean, watching the way the moonlight was sparkling against the water and felt relief wash over you once again, “as soon as I got to the house I was immediately yelled at because the living room wasn’t clean. Like that was somehow my fault? I understand that yeah, I grew up in that house and was staying in my childhood room, but I hadn’t been home in over seven years, I’d like to think you’d qualify as a house guest at that point.”

Emily dryly laughed again and you could feel her fingertips stroking just over your hairline, the touch soothing you, keeping your heart rate down while you reminisced on the not exactly fantastic holidays.

“I had to make sure my room was clean, despite it being half full of storage and no one was going to be seeing it. I’d get woken up at the crack of dawn and coerced into cleaning, prepping food, cooking and told to be better and go faster, this needed to be a successful Christmas after all. Like, I had nothing to do with planning a far too extensive menu and the entire house was my parent’s mess and I certainly didn’t add a single person to the guest list. We’d go over to a cousin’s house for dinner and everything would be coated with dog hair so why was I tasked with dusting the top of the China cabinet that no one would see?” A huff escaped your lips as your shoulders dropped, the sounds of the ocean soothing through you, your breathing beginning to match the pace of the waves and Emily’s fingers tickled at the back of your neck as she began to scoop up the longer pieces of hair. Your lips curved up into a happy grin, your voice softer when you spoke, “why would I want to be anywhere like that when I could be somewhere like here?”

Your hand gently squeezed at Emily’s ankle and she felt the warmth of your touch slowly spreading through her entire body at the sentiment. Sure, it was very possible you were just referring to the expensive over ocean villa complete with endless drinks and food and a view to die for. But there was a piece of her that just knew you were also alluding to the company, the time spent together and how there was no doubt it made for a superior holiday.

She thought about her own time returning home the few years she did and chuckled sorely, “my job very quickly gave me the excuse to not go home, I remember one year I finally could show up so I figured I owed my mother that much. I got there and the house was full of people, more than half that I didn’t even know. I grabbed a drink, some finger food and was practically ignored by everyone, which I guess made sense as most of them didn’t know me and those that did hadn’t seen me in long enough they didn’t recognize me, or maybe it was that they didn’t know how to treat me like an adult. Everyone else around the house was so much more important than me it didn’t seem to matter, half the time my mother wouldn’t even realize I was there until she found me hiding in the kitchen helping with dishes and she’d shove a drink in my hand, shooing me out of there to go mingle.” Emily reached out, grabbing the hair tie off the table, wrapping it around the end of the now finished braid. Her hand slid over it, making sure there weren’t any lumpy bits before she traced your hairline again, pulling out a couple of shorter pieces, twirling them around her fingers and leaving them to frame your face. She leant forward, hands on your shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, “you’re done.”

Your hand reached up, squeezing at hers as you stood, half turning back to her, “thanks.” You shot her a smile, scooping up your beer before settling into your own lounger.

While neither of you continued to say anything pertaining to your not so great holidays of the past, you knew that the unspoken words were still there. That this was far more enjoyable than any of the previous ones could have ever imagined. That you would much rather have each other by your side over pretending to celebrate on your own back home, warding off invitations and insistence from friends or coworkers to join them in their festivities.

There was no better place to be than a tropical paradise, a cold beer in your hand and the warm salt air wafting from the ocean directly into your home for the week.

__________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch @dowsedwithbleach @divergentalwaysandforever-blog @m1lfsh4ke

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #decadent desires #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss series

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vodika-vibes · 10 months

Note

oh may I request the "if you had the guts, [name], you would have kissed me." "you think something is stopping me from doing that right now? prompt for Alpha-17? I just love that big grump 🥹

thank you very much:)

Challenge

Summary: You're at a medical seminar, and Alpha-17 is there to play bodyguard for you. And your relationship changes.

Pairing: Alpha-17 x F!Reader

Word Count: 1930

Warnings: Smut, shameless smut

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: This wasn't going to be smut when I started to write it, but Alpha took control and said that this is happening, and I'm apparently weak for him. I'm so sorry if this isn't what you wanted.

Divider by Saradika

“This place is awful,” Alpha-17 grumbles as he folds his arms over his chest and glowers at a scrawny Doctor who looks like he’s about to come over and talk to you.

“You didn’t have to come to this seminar, Alpha.”

“I’m following orders,” He replies sarcastically. “General Ti said you needed a bodyguard. So here I am. Guarding your body.”

“Hm…and what are you guarding my body from, exactly?” You ask, as you flip through the brochure, “What kind of food do you want me to order for us tonight, by the way.”

“Hm?” He glances at the brochure over your shoulder and taps a restaurant, “They have good curry, according to someone else’s bodyguard.” Alpha replies, though he doesn’t finish answering your question until you grabbed the menu for the restaurant that he indicated, “Anyway, I’m apparently protecting your body from horny scientists.”

“...wait, what?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you seriously scaring off potential dates? Alpha!”

“You don’t need a date. You’re here for work, remember.” Alpha snarks.

“You sound jealous.”

“I’m pretty sure that guy can’t go up a flight of stairs without needing to pause to catch his breath.” Alpha says snidely, “He definitely wouldn’t be any fun in the sack.”

“Why are you even thinking about my sex life?” You ask.

“I have a lot of free time.”

“Which you spend thinking about me being naked.”

Alpha tilts his head and drags his gaze down your body, humming thoughtfully, “I have a very vivid imagination, princess.”

You scowl at him, and ignore the way that your face burns with the ease of long practice. You take a deep breath and look away from him, “You talk a good game, Alpha. But what would you do if I actually took you at your word?”

He arches an eyebrow at you, and you roll your eyes and shake your head.

“If you had the guts, Alpha, you would have kissed me already.” You say as you turn and meet his gaze evenly. Challenging Alpha is never a good idea, on account of the fact that he always wins. But you’re so tired of him flirting with you and then not doing anything about it.

Alpha straightens, and his gaze is locked on your face, “You think something is stopping me from doing that right now?”

“I don’t think you will. I think you’re all talk.”

Alpha stares at you for a long moment, absolutely silent, and then he smiles, slow and dark, “Okay.”

You pause and shoot him a strange look, “Okay?”

“Okay.” He repeats, his smile never once changing.

“Okay…” You say slowly, and then you turn your attention towards the brochure rack. However you expected him to react to your challenge, that wasn’t it.

You jerk when you feel his finger trail up your spine to stop in the middle of your neck, “You might just regret that, princess.” Alpha breathes in your ear, and then he’s no longer touching you.

You glance at him, he looks completely calm, though his gaze is locked on your face and the promising smile on his lips hasn’t wavered. You take a steadying breath, and turn to him, “Do you see anything you want to do?” You ask, as you motion at the stand.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “Yeah, I do.” His grin grows when you shift slightly under his heated gaze, “But I don’t see anything on the stand I’m interested in.”

“Great!” You reply as you quickly spin away from him, “Then I’ll just grab a few of the restaurant menus and then we can go.” You hear him chuckle behind you, and you kind of want to pout. But you also brought this on yourself.

You grab a handful, necessary since you’re going to be here at this seminar for the next week or so, and then you turn to head towards the lift. Alpha, dutifully, trails after you and settles against the wall inside the lift.

He slams his finger against the button that shuts the door, causing the doors to slide shut before another scientist can enter the elevator with you.

“That wasn’t nice,” You say as the lift starts moving.

“I’m not nice.”

“Hm. I don’t believe that.”

“You just keep digging that hole, don’t you princess?” Alpha murmurs, his eyes glittering.

You consider him for a moment, and then you lift your chin, defiantly, “I still think you’re all talk, Alpha.”

His smile grows into a grin, and he reaches out to brush his thumb over your lower lip, “You know why I didn’t kiss you in the lobby?” He asks conversationally.

“Because you don’t mean it.”

“Because I fully intend to have you naked as soon as I have you in the room, and no one is allowed to see that but me.” Alpha growls out, “Especially not those scientists down there.”

Your lips part slightly, “Oh.”

His thumb presses a little harder against your lower lip, “Unless, princess, you’re not interested.”

“I never said that,” You reply immediately, and Alpha smirks at you, his gaze heated, but drops his hand as the doors open. He allows you to lead the way to the room. He waits patiently as you key in the door code, and he waits patiently for the door to slide shut behind him.

And then he’s on you.

Your back is pressed against the door, and his lips are warm and demanding against yours. He uses his teeth and tongue to devastating effect, and when he breaks the kiss, you’re flushed and breathless.

He takes a step away from you, and you whine low in your throat, “Alpha-?” As he backs into the room and settles on the couch.

“Come away from the door, princess.” He orders, his voice a low rumble. And you obediently step away from the door, and get to the middle of the room, before his voice stops you, “Stop there.” Alpha leans back against the couch, his legs splayed, as he palms the obvious bulge in his pants. He lazily frees his cock from the confines of his pants, and smirks at you, “See something you like, princess.”

Your gaze is locked on his cock, and you take half a step towards him.

“Did I say you could move, princess?” Alpha asks, his voice low.

You hesitate, but move back into the original position.

“Good girl,” He praises as he lazily strokes his cock, “Strip for me, my pretty girl. I want to see you.”

With shaking hands, you start peeling your clothes off. First your shirt and bra, and then your pants and underwear. And as soon as you’re bare in front of him, you fold your arms over your stomach.

“Beautiful,” He murmurs, his gaze hungrily dragging down your body. Alpha considers you for a moment, and then he smiles, “Come here, princess.”

You cross the short distance quickly, and Alpha pulls you to balance on his knee, rather than pulling you flush against him like how you wanted. “Alpha-” His name slips from you in a whine, and he leans in to kiss you, turning your whine into a sigh.

He pulls away and leans back against the couch, “Touch yourself,” Alpha orders, his gaze dragging down your body to linger on your pussy, “Make yourself cum, princess.”

Your fingers twitch towards his cock, and he laughs softly, “I know what you want, princess.” One of his hands ghosts across your breasts, and he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, and he’s rewarded with a moan, “Can you do this for me, princess?”

You release a shaky breath, but you nod, and your hand slides down your body. You ease in a single finger and you thrust slowly, as you twist your wrist so you’re able to rub the little bundle of nerves that brings you so much pleasure.

You fall into your usual habits, your free hand coming up to clamp over your mouth to muffle your needy moans.

Alpha releases a growl and tugs your hand away from your mouth, “I want to hear you.” He threads his fingers with yours, and he’s not the least bit surprised when you tightly squeeze his hand.

And when you’re right there, right on the edge of reaching your climax, Alpha grabs your wrist and pulls your drenched hand away from your body. “No…’m so close….” you whine out, writhing on his lap for the friction that you need. Though you stop moving when Alpha takes your fingers into his mouth and starts licking them clean.

He releases your fingers, and pulls you a little closer, his lips catching yours in a heated kiss, and you moan at the taste of Alpha mixed with the subtle taste of yourself still on his tongue.

Your hips jerk when you feel the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, and slowly, very slowly, he pulls you down his hard length. He’s big, much bigger than your fingers or any of the toys you’ve used in the past. It’s a little uncomfortable, but as you settle fully on his length, the discomfort fades into pleasure.

Alpha breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, as curses fall from his lips at the way you’re fluttering around him, “So fucking tight,” He groans, “Let me know when you’re ready to move, princess.”

You press your face against his neck, your hands curling tightly into his shirt, and you nod. Slowly you rock your hips, unsure about the unfamiliar position, and it takes you a moment, but you eventually find a rhythm that has the coil in your stomach winding tight again.

“That’s right, princess. Use my cock to chase your pleasure,” He groans in your ear, shallowly thrusting up into you.

You release a quiet whine when you realize that you can’t quite push yourself over the edge, “Alpha-”

“Shh,” He soothes you with a hand down your spine, “What do you need, Princess?”

“I can’t-”

“I have you.” Alpha murmurs, “Wrap your arms around me.” You do as he instructs, wrapping your arms tightly around him, and then he thrusts up into you roughly, as one of his hands slides between you to quickly roll his thumb over your clit.

And finally the coil snaps, and Alpha’s name falls from your lips like a prayer. And he continues fucking you though your orgasm, chasing his own release as he holds you tightly against his chest, praise falling from his lips as you slowly came down from your high.

His thrusts become shallow, and his lips crash against yours as he pulls you down around him, hard, and then he holds you still as he spills his release deep inside you.

Alpha keeps you flush against him, staying buried deep within you as he presses lingering kisses against your neck and throat. And neither of you speak until you both have your breathing under control.

And then he tilts his head back to look at you, a smug smirk playing on his lips, “Do you believe me now?”

You blink at him, slightly bewildered, and then you pout, “Yeah. I guess.”

His smirk widens, and he lazily smoothes his hand down your spine, “So, Princess, how long do you think you need before round two?”

You release a breathless laugh, “Can we at least move to a bed, please?”

“Not a bad idea,” Alpha murmurs, “This time you’ll be under me, princess.” He kisses you deeply, and then stands, his arms strong around you.

#star wars #tcw #alpha-17 x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #clone thirsting #answered asks #18+ fic

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therenlover · 1 year

Text

Slain (Vampire Hunter!Helmut Zemo/Vampire!Reader)

Chapter One: No Compasses, No Signs

Synopsis: The world undergoes change. Helmut Zemo finds new residence and perspective on his journey for revenge.

Tags: Vampire!AU, Vampire Hunter!Helmut Zemo, Slow Burn, Blood Drinking, Manipulation, Everyone Is Morally Grey, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Rating: E (+18) For Later Chapters, Minors DNI

Warnings: Mild Gore, Minor Mentions of Child Death

Word Count: 9,900~

--------------

Her lips were a breath away from his neck, fangs bared, when his weapon found purchase in her heart. She settled there a while, leaning closer into him and the great bolt of wood that sat between them. He stilled as she did.

One last shuddering breath escaped her lips. “Thank you, Helmut,” It was more than that, though. A confession of love hid itself within her words.

Helmut grimaced. Not this. Not now.

Before there was even a moment to reconsider, he wrenched the stake free and brought it down again, and again, and again, and again… Better to make sure the job gets done than leave her to suffer.

He walked from that room into the daylight an untethered man. The hunt was just beginning, though.

Every inch of the floor sat soaked red in his wake.

———

Sokovia was always most beautiful in the autumn.

It was a timeless place, or at least that’s what all the brochures had said. After spending the morning exploring old-growth forests or quaint villages, a three-hour car ride could take you straight into the city, filled with modern Sokovian culture and art. The capital city of Novi Grad was bursting at the seams with theaters, galleries, museums, historical districts, and Michelin-rated restaurants serving farm-to-table cuisine: anything you craved on an international vacation, you could find it there. Students the world over chose the Sokovian National University over all others across Europe and the globe for its arts department. People thrived there.

At least they had.

Now the theaters that still stood sat empty, never to play another film or host another symphony. Museums were looted, restaurants burned, and the university, with a campus several hundred years old, turned to dust as Novi Grad disappeared off the map forever. The bricks that had once built a nation came crumbling down in one final, fatal blow. In the span of one night, the history of the whole country was lost forever.

Some things still remained, though; things older than even Sokovia had been.

Helmut Zemo just had to find them.

There was no map to follow towards his prize. There had been once, an ancient thing that sat rolled up tight in a glass case on his father’s desk for all his life. It had been there, untouched, in every memory Helmut had of that office. He imagined his father and grandfather had similar memories there, looking up at the very same desk and pondering the stiff, crumbling parchment above. Not anymore, though. There would be no more young Zemos to gaze up at that sturdy oak desk. It had been found crushed beneath the rubble of their ancestral home.

In fact, there wouldn’t be any more young Zemos at all.

Carl had been found crushed in that rubble too.

It was better that way. He had met a nobler fate than most Sokovian citizens had. Still…

Sometimes it was better not to dwell on things like that.

Helmut’s father hadn’t had much time to teach him the ways of the family before his passing, but some things came with time and the rest could be gleaned from superstition.

Silver, for example, was plentiful across their vast collection of heirlooms. Those trinkets had become incredibly useful to melt down for bullets and crossbow bolts when he started to hunt. Much more helpful, though, was the fact that the furniture in their homes was often made of fine wood, and some of those handcrafted bedposts and coat racks, when twisted just so and pulled at the socket, would reveal a perfectly sharpened end hidden within.

Those stakes had come in handy.

And even if there hadn’t been any childhood lessons on how to slaughter a creature soundlessly in the darkness of the night, Helmut had learned plenty about that in the Sokovian special forces.

After months of little revelations, his preparations were long past done. Now the only thing left to do was follow his father’s footsteps.

Surviving the journey was a secondary priority.

Helmut didn’t need his family’s map to know exactly where to seek the first of his quarries. He had heard tales of her for his whole life in nursery rhymes and whispered childhood stories.

Women, children, and wandering folk with pure hearts couldn’t be led astray, but if a man with a guilty mind followed the Behnit River, he might just get lost. Thankfully, Helmut had that part covered. Once lost, the poor soul would trek through the winding Sokovian mountain passes, traveling far beyond the shadow of Mount Wundagore until he came across a forest of fog. If the man wandered the forest long enough, evading the great beasts that lurked there, he would find the castle of the Grey Lady.

Anyone foolish enough to seek her there would see the face of death.

Now, Helmut Zemo was not afraid of death. He had been intimately acquainted with it from birth as had twelve generations before him. Ever since his father’s head arrived home on the morning of his eighteenth birthday, shipped neatly in an ice-packed crate and wrapped with a red ribbon, the abyss was attached to him like a lover. Not even his wife or child could escape that cruel mistress’s clutches. Without anything left to lose, Helmut found himself in only death’s company.

Even now, as he wandered the abandoned villages and barren fields of the country he once called home in search of the Grey Lady, he spent his time slaughtering the last stragglers of Ultron’s army and putting any live victims out of their misery before they turned. Neither tended to last long once they were starved, but a few stubborn bastards held on. He liked to think of it as a mercy when he drove his stake through their skulls.

Death walked beside him like a friend, and Helmut didn’t fear his friends.

They feared him.

That suited him just fine.

To be fair, not everything was bad here. The Behnit flowed through fields of flowers and fruiting trees where all manner of soft, warm, innocent creatures slept, untouched by the horrors of modern civilization. Helmut slept among them unnoticed. He sustained himself off of their sacrificial charity.

Another silver lining: the longer he traveled along the riverbank the less it seemed to rain, which was appreciated. His coat kept him warm and the stars kept him company. The autumn leaves seemed just as beautiful as they were advertised to be in the travel brochures he used to wipe his ass on the trail.

He had pitched his tent for the night in a cluster of boulders by the pebbled shore. The greatest of the stones were still jagged from where a slowly dying glacier rended the earth and left a river its wake. Still, they were softened somewhat by moss and time.

When Helmut woke that morning, emerging from the boulder’s shadows, the once open field that had surrounded the river the night before had been replaced with more trees than could be counted. Thick morning fog rolled in from the water’s edge. Visibility was at almost zero. There were just trees and trees and trees and nothing.

It was exactly as he thought it would be.

So he packed up his tent, tucked it away in his bag, and freed his wicked, silver blade from its holster- another heirloom coming in handy. Its weight rested naturally in his hand. Then, he walked on.

Thus began the first leg of Helmut Zemo’s journey towards revenge.

———

Black blood splattered against the cobbles as my ringed fingers slammed into the younger man’s cheekbone again.

It pooled in the stones’ creases; a thick, stinking ichor that clung to my jewelry and my skin as it continued to dribble down from his face and body. I couldn’t help but lick a stray droplet from my lips.

He wasn’t quite broken yet. It wouldn’t take much longer, though. My hunger could wait until then.

The pathetic creature stood his ground in the corner of the darkened stable as his eyes darted about to search for an escape route.

There were none. I had made sure of that. There was only me and the sturdy walls behind him. Nowhere to go but down.

As expected, he sunk to his knees after just one more sharp hit to the cheek.

I allowed my hand to linger for a moment. It may have been cruel, but I didn’t care to think too much about it. “Are you ready to tell me now?”

His red eyes glinted with tears. Slowly, he nodded.

“What is your name,” I asked.

“Pietro,”

“Pietro,” I repeated the word on my ancient tongue, feeling each syllable roll over the muscle. A strong name. Sokovian. I brought myself down to his level, resting on the balls of my feet before him. My fingers danced along his skin. “How did you receive the gift?”

“Please, I don’t kn-”

His voice shuddered and stalled as one of my pointed nails slowly began to dig into the cold meat of his cheek and more sticky blackness coated my fingers.

I smiled right through it despite the growing unease in my stomach. Maybe a gentle hand would be more helpful…

“You do know, Pietro, even if you don’t think you do. Don’t you want to tell me? To get this over with?” My voice was sickly sweet. The dank stall, once reeking of stale piss and rot, began to match my cloying tone. The air grew thick with a dizzying perfume and Pietro’s stiff posture softened at the first breath of it. All at once his eyes swam with not fear, but relief. He wanted to make me happy now. Nothing would make him feel better than following my command. It almost made me want to vomit more, if I were capable of it.

The words came soft and dreamlike from his trembling mouth. “Novi Grad, at the university. My friend was a student. We were walking back from the bars to meet my sister and a man was waiting in the alley… oh god. No.” Pietro shook his head. His pulse began to speed. “I ate him. I ate Paul. The man attacked us and Paul tried to run and I- I ate him!”

His story was sad but unhelpful.

My voice stayed even despite his hyperventilation. It was best to keep him calm for both our sakes. “Who changed you, Pietro? Who was that man?”

The air grew heavy around us both, blanketing him in warmth and pleasant feelings from all sides. It was calm. It was safe. It was all a deception.

Pietro leaned into my touch like a young, blind animal searching for his mother and I hated to admit it stirred something more in me than nausea. Whatever it had awoken, and I didn’t care to find out, it was bringing out my mercy. Death no longer waited for him at the first wrong move. I sat quietly at his side, smearing dark blood across his hair as I stroked it without meaning to; a small comfort. Absent tears dripped from his empty eyes.

After a long while, Pietro decided he was ready to speak again.

“He said he was a friend of Stark… that he would change the world,”

My voice came in a low sigh. “Starks always think they will,”

I had known. Even if I hadn’t been absolutely certain, it was hard to ignore the sinking feeling his scent brought on. If I wasn’t in so much denial I could have guessed as much the second even a drop of Pietro’s blood hit my lips. He was of my own flesh in a way, however diluted by distance and time. I had tasted it in him. There was a flavor only attributable to myself under his chemical bitterness and the musk of wet dog.

Slowly, I let my hand slip away from his face and stood, kicking at a pile of rotting straw on my way up.

Pietro drooped further into the corner. His sandy hair covered enough of his face that I couldn’t tell if he was still crying or not. “I was just so hungry,” he breathed, “I couldn’t even think, I just kept eating them. All of them. Anyone I could catch. I was just… so hungry,”

“Are you still hungry,” I asked.

The stable went silent.

He nodded. “I’m starving,”

It was a huge risk, and a stupid one too. I hadn’t taken on a familiar since the 1800’s. It had been much longer than that since I’d created a thrall or spawn, and this… this was much more complex in new and different ways. He was not mine, even if he shared traces of my disease in his blood. Whatever hybrid monstrosity he was—I was almost certain he contained something other than the vampiric curse I bore—it meant he could not be controlled by force as a young spawn could. Pietro would instead need to be tamed to be trusted, much like the legacies of wolves that dwelled alongside me in my woods.

Pietro didn’t look particularly defiant, though. Keeping him leashed to my side couldn’t be that difficult. Besides, the idea of having some company wasn’t a completely unpleasant thought.

In fact, I rather liked it.

I approached him again like I would have approached a wounded animal, undoing button after button on the sleeve of my coat and exposing the smooth flesh of my forearm. It was an offering. An olive branch. He swallowed hard.

“I will not give you this gift lightly Pietro but I am in a particularly giving mood. You only need to answer one more question, and this can all be over. Do you wish to pay penance for your hunger? Or do you wish to die?”

His body trembled as the pungent reek of fear took over the room once again. My glamour had worn off well before. It was only fair to let him make this choice with all of his mind in his own hands. “What are you doing?” He asked. His accent trembled on every syllable.

“I’m offering you a choice,” I replied. “You weren’t given the luxury of choosing what you have become, but now you can choose what you do with it. We’re similar, you and I. We’ve made mistakes. I know from firsthand experience that one needs to learn to control this curse or die before it kills them in the ways that matter, and you don’t look dead to me. At least, not yet. So what would you prefer, Pietro? How does this end?”

Pietro gulped. His shaking hands were fisted in the soft cotton of his dirty AC/DC t-shirt. “I don’t want to die,”

My face relaxed into a soft smile. That would do just fine.

“Then drink,”

He attacked my wrist like a mad dog. It didn’t even feel like a pinch as his teeth ripped into my skin.

Cool, red blood flooded his mouth in an unholy communion, and, in that moment, I could have been his god.

Pietro ate like an animal.

It was clear that nobody had guided him when he was created. No one had sat at his side as he fed for the first time, showing him just where to put his teeth or how to keep things from getting messy. Of course he’d had to kill to eat. There were no lessons on where the major veins and arteries lay: which ones were deadly, which could be pierced and healed, how to heal them… It was a damn shame. He could have been so much more than an animal.

Now, blood splashed wildly from his mouth as he tried to swallow as much as he could, ripping with his new, sharp molars to try to coax more viscera into his throat. I pitied his lack of understanding. He could barely feed himself, even off of my near-endless supply.

That being said, his desperation was almost cute.

He drank his fill of me until his eyes glazed over. As a fed man, he was flushed with life again, breathing deeply and gaining color in his pallid complexion with every breath. From the looks of it, a few more hours without a meal would’ve killed him before I could. When he finally detached from my wrist there wasn’t a hint of guilt or shame or fear in his eyes. Instead, they reflected pure satiation into the darkness. His look promised gratitude. Servitude.

I released a cold huff of breath into the air. “Full?”

Pietro replied shortly, wiping his mouth with the butt of his palm. “Yeah, much better,”

“Good,”

His eyes darted to the wound he’d left. “Are you ok?” He asked. For all of his previous boldness, he now refused to meet my eyes.

It didn’t matter much to me, but I shrugged, examining the previously mangled flesh. “No harm done.”

Pietro gaped at the improvement. My skin was already knitting itself back together, though it was working a bit slower than usual. I needed to feed soon myself.

Strong with a fresh supply, his pulse beat hard enough in his jugular that I could watch it pulse from half a meter away. More thoughts sparked behind my eyes.

Well… it couldn’t hurt.

I needed far less than he did to keep myself running. It would only take one bite. One big mouthful. One swallow. I had given him far more than that, so it shouldn’t leave him wanting in the least.

“Would you do me a favor, Pietro?” Using his name was a manipulation. The air grew thick again with the scent of pear blossoms and juicy, dripping stone fruits. “The first step towards controlling your new form,”

“Anything,”

The graphic on his t-shirt was soaked with blood and bits of ripped vein.

“Give me your neck,”

It wasn’t a question. Instead, I found myself demanding access to him.

The worst part was he followed me blindly, even with his own understanding of what it meant to feed. Pietro tilted his chin to the sky as if he might begin to wail at the moon and waited. Not a muscle moved as he waited for brutality.

I didn’t quite know what to do with him anymore. He was filled with too many unexpected surprises.

This man, barely more than a boy, was an abomination, a scientific marvel, living and dead all at once. He never should have been thrust into his creation, but abomination or not he would satiate the hunger that gnawed at every cell in my body better than any other source of blood at my disposal. His blood, however tainted, was warm beneath his skin. It called to me like the predator I was made to be.

As I moved in for the bite, though, his eyes met mine again despite the obvious effort he was taking to close them and imagine he was anywhere else. I found a new terror overwhelming him there. Something even more ancient than I was sat deep in the dilated pits of his pupils, like a pig finally understanding his purpose as the axe began to drop. I had seen it more times than I wanted to count: The looks they gave when it was too late to squeal or run. Fear, understanding, and acceptance of the end. It was the place they went when there was nowhere left to go as they waited for the slaughter. I could stomach it in animals, a needed sacrifice to sustain myself, but to see it in the eyes of one so much like me, his eyelashes wet with blood and tears… I saw my own face looking back at me.

Slowly, deliberately, I guided his head back to its front-facing position, patting his unscathed cheek with a cool but soft hand. “You passed the test, now go to the house. Find somewhere comfortable. I’ll meet you there,”

I wasn’t that hungry anyways.

Pietro sat still for a moment, eyes shifting warily from wall to wall, but as soon as he realized there were no more instructions to wait for he scrambled to his feet, bolting from the stables almost on his hands and knees until he managed to keep his balance. In a moment’s time, he was shoving his way out the door. Every few seconds, though, he would look back at me until he couldn’t manage to keep me in his sights.

He still reeked of fear.

Good. It was best for him to fear me. I would rather keep him in line with fear than with pain, and we weren’t here to make friends. Things would be better this way.

Brushing wet straw from the thick leather of my day pants, I rose to follow, leaving the bloody stall behind me. I only paused long enough to spare a look towards the piles of rotting, ichorous bodies packed into the adjacent stalls from the months and weeks before. It would need to be dealt with eventually, but not tonight. I continued into the gloom, locking the door to the stables on my way out.

There was more important work to do.

———

Pietro adapted to my solitary life far better than I could’ve expected him to.

He mostly kept himself entertained, never lingering too long in my presence, not that he should want to. There was very little of mutual interest between the two of us anyway outside of mealtimes. Still, I kept a close eye on him, from a distance of course.

The garden had become his main refuge, and that suited me just fine. It had gone neglected for a while anyway. Having a hobby would help him adapt to his new life more smoothly, and hey, a little uninformed TLC at his hands couldn’t possibly hurt the plants that had already survived generations' worth of being harvested but otherwise ignored.

When he wasn’t scrounging around the loamy dirt, Pietro spent his days patrolling the grounds. He had probably seen more of the expansive property in the past weeks than I had in the past decade. It was a stark reminder of what a homebody I’d become in the past hundred years.

Every night, when the gardening and patrolling was done, he would trot back to his seat at the dinner table, right beside my own at the head, and share his informal report on the events of his day. Once it had been news of the wolves he’d befriended, then a broken fountain that needed repair, then a deer caught in a fence. I figured this was his way of earning his keep, even if I had never asked him to. I had barely done more than feed and house him since his arrival. No progress had been made on controlling his power. His proverbial leash grew longer each day I refused to put in the time (and effort) to discipline him.

It would be so easy for him to slip away

I had no more control over him than I did over the weather. If he truly wanted to, Pietro could have run off into the mist the second I let him out of that stable, escaping to whatever fate awaited him outside the bubble of my protection. There was no glamour, no psychic energy compelling him to stay. It would be as easy as him making the choice and enacting a plan.

Still, he came back each night like a hound with a rabbit in his teeth, sometimes literally. We shared the details of his day over light, meaningless conversations each dinner time until he fed from my wrist once more and shuffled off to rest.

Despite everything, the time I spent with Pietro in the evenings was the most fun I’d had in ages.

Not that I’d ever admit that. There was still a certain air of decorum and fear-based respect that hung between the two of us and I refused to bridge the gap. He was my ward, after all. Or… manservant? No, he didn’t do enough around the interior of our home to warrant the title. Housemate indirectly threatened with death upon his departure? Whatever. The semantics of what he was to me were unimportant. What he wasn’t was a friend or equal. I lorded above him in every way: age, knowledge, sheer supernatural power. It wouldn’t do either of us any good to pretend we were closer than tentative acquaintances.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t privately relish in the meals we shared, though, and the brief bits of humanity he coaxed out of me somehow with his presence. Our quiet companionship would perfectly toe the line to keep him respectful but less fearful. At least, I hoped so.

It would be painfully miserable to be alone again now that I’d remembered what it was like not to be.

My own days hadn’t changed much, with the exception of my evening meals. Dawn was spent in the animal pens. I fed and watered the pigs and chickens and lambs before taking their offerings: the sheep were sheared on seasonal rotation, the chickens laid in the mornings, and every once in a while, a pig would grow round and tired enough to be culled. Mostly I would toss anything slaughtered and drained to the wolves to keep them happy, but on occasion, I’d leave with a lamb of my own to quench my unending thirst. Not often these days. Instead, I supplemented my diet with wine in the hopes that, eventually, I could overcome my hunger entirely. It hadn’t happened yet. I hadn’t given up hope.

Once the beasts were tended, the rest of the day was spent curled up in one nook or another attempting to pass the hours with whatever useless activity was available. If I stayed put too long, I had learned my flesh would begin to petrify, so I forced myself into monotonous, limited activities each day. Recently that meant embroidery, which made its way into the rotation once every few decades. Before that, I’d organized the library alphabetically by the author’s names (before it had been by book title), taken up oil painting until I ran out of paint, and spent a small stint attempting to design my own clothes for the hundredth time. It turned out as well as it always had. That was to say, every single design was awful and/or impossible to sew with the materials at my disposal. Even the garden Pietro loved so much had once been a time-sink to keep me from turning to stone. After almost a thousand years, though, nothing kept my attention long.

Nothing new was left to discover here. On rare occasions, a new hobby would arrive on the body of an interloper, like the Game Boy with its drained batteries that sat next to my bed, but even those didn’t take long to break or lose their novelty.

Besides, visitors had become a rarity as soon as cars and highways came into fashion.

Who would spend their days wandering down old forest paths when they could take their new vehicle down a well-mapped road instead? It was quicker, cheaper, safer- and then came the airplanes and the busses and the high-speed rails. By my nine-hundred and eighty-seventh year of immortal life, I was lucky to get a lost hiker at my door once or twice a year that the wolves didn’t shred before I found them.

Things changed for a bit after the world shook. Suddenly, it seemed as though there was a wave of new bodies wandering the wood every dusk and dawn. No companionship could be found with those maddened newborn creatures. They were like only one man-made monster I had ever witnessed, almost seventy-five years before, but they were mindless with the endless tug of their starvation, an unprecedented side effect of their disease. Always so hungry. Few retained any scraps of humanity by the time they made it to me, sunburnt and emaciated and so very confused.

After a while, though, even they became rare. It was as if they had all been sent in a great burst before whatever event that bore them was over. The whole situation concerned me. I wondered if they weren’t coming to me anymore, where were they going? There must have been more of them than the ones who had come to my door. If this hadn’t been an attack on my home, organized to finally rid me of my life, why were they created? And if so many had made it as far as my castle, what had become of Sokovia? I feared I would never get an answer.

Pietro was the last.

I couldn’t have known it when I spared him, but no more followed in his footsteps. He himself had arrived almost a month after the young man who came before, and he had taken a few weeks to find me after the one before him. Then, after Pietro, there was nothing. If he hadn’t been spared, I would never have known of Ultron, or the children he sired to prove himself to Stark, or the bomb Stark had dropped to rid the world of the vampiric plague that would descend upon it.

Maybe it was the renewed scarcity that made me pause when I first saw him stumbling through the bushes. That split second of indecision before I gutted him on sight, was it curiosity or loneliness? Or was it luck? Whatever it was, and I didn’t care to dig too deeply into any of my feelings on the matter, I was glad for it.

The pair of us kept each other company. Fog rolled in each morning and the moon glowed full each night and the world kept turning, but things were new now. The same china and linen and dining table I had stared at for hundreds of years seemed to have new detail in it every day.

We had peace.

Until the morning Pietro came wailing through the study doors with that mangled wolf in his arms.

“There’s a man!” He gasped, blood running down his front and into the deep auburn of the rug at his feet. The poor thing was long dead. From a few feet away I could tell it had gone quickly to whatever had felled it. Even still, Pietro’s eyes were wild with something more than fear at the sight of the corpse’s state. “He-“

I cut him off, rising from my chair. “Where,”

His eyes darted to the dripping gash in the wolf’s neck.

“The front walk,” he said, “I didn’t see much of him, just a shadow, but he’s armed with something bad, something that felt wrong. There are more dead too, too many to carry, but I thought she might make it. I thought I could fix her,” Pietro was babbling now, talking faster than he could even rationally think. It was evident that he had never seen a slaughter like this. At least, he had never seen a slaughter like this without a driving bloodlust that would drown out every thought other than hunger. A slaughter that wasn’t his own to make.

I crossed the room to him. “Watch the house,”

“But-”

My eyebrow raised. I was chillingly calm, tutting at him softly. “Do you think I am incapable of defending my own home?”

“No, no, but he’s just… I… how can I help you?”

Despite his fear, Pietro still so desperately wanted to do what was helpful. His moral compass was strong. I appreciated it. He was already making progress all on his own. I didn’t need him though, not for whatever awaited me in the woods. There were few people who had any knowledge of my location, and fewer still who would be able to enter and hold their own against my defenses. Knowing what I knew of Ultron, I was prepared for my feud with the Starks to come to an end. Besides, he would just be a liability, a clear weakness in my rock-solid strong persona. He was still too young.

Teeth bared, I let out a soft growl. “Like I said, watch the house. That is how you can help me, just in case someone else attempts to enter while I’m distracted,” I gestured towards the door into the greater hall outside. “Eat, then keep watch. I would only judge you if you wasted her body. If I need you, I’ll whistle,”

“How will I hear you from so far?”

“I have my ways,”

Without waiting for confirmation, I started my warpath towards the front of the house, leaving the sounds of sloppy tearing in my wake.

———

As soon as I was out the doors I could feel him at the end of the walk, but it wasn’t until he had broken the tree line, several hundred yards away, that he noticed me waiting for him.

Not a word was exchanged. That blurry body on the horizon shifted, reached back, postured, and- snap.

One soaring arrow cut through the air and found its target in my chest.

He wanted violence? I would give him violence. It had been so long since I had someone to toy with, someone who had the capability to even try to resist the toolbox of horrors that my nature had lent me. I grinned. This was a game, and I was a sore loser when my life laid on the line.

Time turned to mist in my grasp.

All at once, I was acutely aware of the bolt that had shredded through the shoulder of my coat. It stayed embedded there, the tip jutting out just below my shoulder blade, but the shaft sat too high, missing my heart by a significant margin. Stoney flesh burned all the way through the wound. When I tried to send a tendril of energy through the tunneled muscle, it fizzled out and died.

The damn tip was silvered.

This was a clever one; more than just another mindless, bloodthirsty drone in search of a throat to rip. This man had knowledge. He was a craftsman. A hunter.

My revenge awaited.

With a speed that defied the laws of the natural world, I greeted my opponent.

I moved with the wind. Every molecule of my body sang as I pulled them apart and brought them together at will, drifting over his shoulder in an amorphous cloud of smoke. Blood thrummed under his skin like thunder even if he could not actively comprehend my presence.

He was mortal.

I could feel the loose amalgam that made up my mouth almost watering at the sheer feeling of a human pulse so close to me, however slowed in the wake of my speed. Every bit of him was lean muscle, too, wrapped up in leather and military-issue kevlar. It would rip like butter under my predator’s teeth. He didn’t know that, though. In his mind, he was blissfully protected from the things that went bump in the night.

A quick scan with the looser edges of my cloudy form revealed that, despite his silver weapons, he wore none of the metal on his person.

This man may have been a hunter, but he was also a fool. He wasn’t a Stark, either. No, he smelled wrong, not a note of wolfish musk surrounded him besides the stench of dead dog in his wake. A wild card, then. Or something I couldn’t quite recognize without my nose all put together.

Plum, perhaps.

A sword, silvered like his crossbow bolts, was strapped high on his hip, but it didn’t take much maneuvering to undo the clip and send the blade clattering to the ground. Next came the crossbow itself. Taking something from the man’s hands was a little trickier, but nothing was beyond my grasp, especially when I unleashed this power. Usually, it was kept close to my chest. It was a secret truth I couldn’t even burden myself to recognize. I was ancient. I was so much more than any living soul could be forced to comprehend, I was-

The seal on the crossbow caught my eye. A badger posed regal, gnawing on the snake in its dripping teeth. My snake. Their crest.

Oh.

The game had just become so much more fun.

I felt the air, bringing my nose together enough to sniff at it. I had to be certain. There could be no mistakes if it was who I knew it had to be. And it was: It was like a perfume I could never quite wash out, a song that always resided in the back of my head, as familiar as my own name after all of the years I had known it. Maybe, just maybe, I knew it better than my own scent.

He was a Zemo.

Twelve generations I had killed over that stupid attempt at a takeover to expand their barony. Twelve fathers of twelve sons, each more horrid and twisted than the last, had willingly walked into the lion’s den on the eve of their eldest son’s 18th year to fulfill their end of a bargain struck by the first of them all in the hope to spare their bloodline from total annihilation in my wake. One by one they sought me out of their own free will. Every time they believed they would improve on the failings of the last, finally besting me, but their pride was their fall. They were cocky and stupid enough to think they knew enough to defeat me.

Every single son had died for their gall.

They didn’t have to. If one had simply disobeyed or learned mercy, I would have let them go without a second thought. It wasn’t as if I could leave this forest to find them. Nothing compelled them besides their own hubris.

And now, the thirteenth was there to take his place at the grave.

This was wrong, though. An unshakeable feeling gripped my mind more than even my rage at the damned bloodline before me. Maybe not wrong, no, but not quite right either. He was far too young.

It wasn’t as if he looked exceedingly youthful. The man’s eyes held a certain wisdom that only came with time. I was sure that, if I were capable of seeing my own reflection clearly, it would be a trait we shared. His face showed age too. A thick but well-trimmed beard decorated his cheeks and chin, obscuring the thin line of his scowl. I spent what felt like hours memorizing those features— searching for hidden signs of age, of course, or other features that might give away his weaknesses.

The point wasn’t to admire him, though, or let his features become the focal point of my focus. This was not a man who had raised a man.

He had simply come too soon.

There was no reasonable explanation I could find to explain him birthing a blood son who had reached the age threshold to fulfill our bargain. To take a father from his child… the thought haunted me. Even with the acrid stench of death and dog permeating my home from all sides, with the culprit all but waiting for release in my hands, I couldn’t do it. My standards remained.

It just… wouldn’t do.

I let loose my tight grip on time, letting each shred of my body come together into its correct place like the snap of a fresh rubber band. It was always dizzying to find time’s proper flow again but I leaned into the exhilaration of my physical form’s newness. My voice escaped my lips- at last, my real lips. It was a bone-chilling whisper. To him, I seemed to appear at his back in an instant, traveling with the breeze that froze him.

“Next time, son of Heinrich, you’ll have to aim better than that,”

He went stiff at the feeling of my cold breath on his neck, like every hair on his body had stood at attention the second he became aware of my closeness. It was more than just a startle, though. That fear was genetic, bred into him by father and father and father before him. It was in every drop of blood that rushed to his face in my wake. He masked it as well as he could have. His expression remained schooled even as a freezing hand came up to brush against his neck. I knew better, though. I saw things humans could never dream of comprehending about each other.

Minutiae. Breath and pulse and scent and temperature. Predator senses.

“You were expecting me,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“And you weren’t expecting me,”

Zemo laughed, a bitter thing. “Perhaps not. None of the others have been quite so… fast,”

I tossed his crossbow aside. It landed in the nearby brush and shattered as it slammed against the ground. My own strength was unknown to me. I could only pretend it had been intended. “Your father should have taught you better than this. This is a disappointment,”

“He might have,” he said, “but he didn’t live long enough. So, I believe you are to blame for his inability to mentor me in the rules of your little game.

My pulse raced even as my mind paused. His dark eyes took in the surroundings, surely searching for something to get him out of my grasp and back into the upper hand. Little did he know that uncertainly was creeping below my skin.

Men. They were all the same. They lacked the sight.

“You’re free to believe that if you choose,” I replied, “but eighteen years was plenty of time for the rest of them. If it was not enough for you, well, I can only call that greed. Of thirteen men, you are only the second to lose your weapon before even crossing my threshold. That and the fact that the first was not your father, it seems, means it is your father’s failing that he did not pass on the wisdom he had learned.”

“How long did he last?”

“He lasted more than six hours of combat before I gutted him. It’s a shame you couldn’t do the same. At this rate, you won’t survive the hour. What a bore,” Slowly, and without a wince despite the burning at my fingertips, I snapped off the end of the bolt in my shoulder and placed the silvered tip in my pocket, patting it softly through the fabric once it settled at the bottom. Extracting the rest of the solid metal rod was an easy feat from there. His eyes remained trained on me over his shoulder as it joined his bow on the ground.

Zemo, to his credit, mastered his fear beautifully.

His pulse had stabilized some, though its steady rhythm still rushed through my nostrils and into my dizzy mind like an intoxicating symphony. He was a cocktail of emotion inside his well-kept exterior. The scent of sudden horror was now morphing into surprise, perhaps even curiosity. His gaze only escaped mine to examine the blood dripping lazily from my shoulder to my feet.

“Confused?” I taunted.

He shook his head. “Not confused, no.”

“Then what are you?”

I wanted to know him. I wanted to rip the deepest secrets of his mind from his chest and devour them. I wanted to taste it. It would be so much sweeter if I didn’t have to take it, though. If it were given freely.

“Learning,” he replied.

It was my turn to be unprepared.

I stalked around him, coming to face him head-on, and he held my gaze again. His pulse stayed steady despite the fact that the space between us was near nonexistent, as if he thought of himself as a predator too, just like me. Still, those damn eyes examined me like some sort of experiment, not like prey. Questions sat unsaid between us in the fog.

What makes you different? What makes you special? What makes you tick?

Stars above, he made it so easy. It was impossible to keep from smiling just a little at the absurdity of it all as he took in the sight of my neck and the puckered scars that littered it. This was nothing like my dinners with Pietro. This was dangerous. Almost fun.

Everything I gave to him he shot right back at me in spades, almost as if he was toying with me too and deriving his own sick satisfaction from the electricity in the air. It reminded me a bit of the great bacchanals that had been thrown here in my youth, when the castle halls ran red with the blood of my victims, both unwitting and all too willing to die by my lips. I hadn’t been alone then. There were faces to entertain me around any corner. Even when the party ended and the bodies ran dry, my creator waited patiently for me in the bedroom as dawn broke each morning. It was horrifically, terribly, irredeemably fun. I wanted to forget it so badly that I almost had.

Now, though, the memories were fresh.

How long had it been since I’d really spoken to someone without their fear leaking from every pore? Since there had been someone to laugh with? To bounce off? To feed from?

My throat twitched shamefully at the thought.

Blood was a varied thing. No two feeds would ever taste exactly the same, even if they were almost interchangeably similar. Every emotion, every dietary choice, and every passing second spent aging would affect the profile as it hit my taste buds. Omnivorous or herbivorous animals tended to be brassy and harsh on the tongue, yet somehow watery. Overall, unfulfilling. Carnivores left me a bit more satisfied, but not much, and definitely not in terms of flavor. Other vampires were more substantial than animals, but bitter depending on their age. A young vampire tasted a bit like a berry that wasn’t quite ripe.

Humans, though… humans were uniquely human. There were no words to describe it. Mortals could not comprehend the kind of sensations that fresh human blood would fill me with enough to create the vocabulary to depict it properly. Some were savory, some were sweet; some were stomach-churning and heavy and some lighter than water on the tongue. They were ephemeral. Unique. Devastatingly addictive.

There was one unchanging fact about the taste of blood, though, that haunted my waking dreams on my worst nights.

However disgusting they had been in life, every Zemo had been orgasmically delicious in death from the very first.

I resisted the urge to unleash my glamour and drain him dry right there and then heroically. I was not that woman anymore. I had to promise myself that, at least, to keep it all reined in. The last human I’d fed from had been his father and before that his grandfather. It would do me no good to give in to my basest urges which I had fought so hard to suppress. He would die with honor and dignity when it was his time, and it wasn’t.

Not yet.

So, instead of ripping his throat clean out, I dragged a nail down the column of Zemo’s neck, relishing in the gooseflesh that raised at my touch.

“Do you always play with your food?” He asked.

I shrugged, playing the persona he needed from me to keep his dignity. “Only with your family. It keeps me young,”

And suddenly, that little playful light in him died. I didn’t quite know what had set him off, or how, but it was as if a switch had been flipped on his mood.

“I would appreciate getting on with whatever this is, then, if you wouldn’t mind,” He hissed. Zemo took a sharp step forward, closing the space that lingered between us in one swift motion. My nail pressed dangerously close to his jugular. “I am not your toy, nor was my family. This little game you’ve played with us is finished. It’s long past time. No more sons,” his nose was almost brushing my own as he spoke. I could taste every lick of hate in his breath. “This ends here.”

Even now, at my mercy, he was spending his last moments protecting his son from meeting the same fate. Not even once had any of the other men who came before even mentioned them. Not even in passing.

For a moment, I almost let him go.

The first of the Zemos had deserved it. The second had almost deserved it more if such a thing were possible. The generations seemed to snowball through the decades like some sort of horrid disease. Each man had found their way through the warding around my forest, and that in and of itself was evidence of their crimes in my eyes. The weight of guilt in their hearts had guided them to me like the light of the north star. Once they’d arrived too, every man had only continued to prove themselves unworthy of life. Every time, I thought maybe I could impart a lesson.

Twelve men had failed to understand their own failings, though, and until they did, I had doomed them to pay the same price, over and over, in an unrelenting loop of loss.

But I was so tired.

So, so tired.

Who could say if they’d ever learn? The blood I spilled might have taught them nothing at all, and it might never teach them. How many years would I spend alone, haunting the halls of an empty castle, waiting for them to learn?

Always starving.

Always hurting.

Even the guilt was gone. It was just…

Emptiness.

Deep down, I had to wonder if I was really doing it to teach them a lesson, or if I was just glad to have a warm meal and a conversation these days. When had it started to become less about them than it was about me and my own feelings?

Thirteen men. An unlucky number, but a prophetic one.

Maybe it was time to let go.

I took a deep breath and crossed my arms, letting my hand slip away from Zemo’s neck. “I have to admit, son of Heinrich, it takes a lot of nerve to demand anything of me,” I sighed, reluctant, “I’m impressed,”

He quirked up an eyebrow. “This sounds like the beginning of another game, vampire,”

“You might find out if you let me finish,”

Zemo stayed silent. I could almost hear the whispers daring to escape him as he licked his lips. Around us, the fog sat heavy and thick.

“As I was saying,” I cleared my throat and my stomach turned. When was the last time I’d been so nervous about something? When had I last felt anything at all? “You want to end the games? Fine. Lay this bare. Why are you here? Thirteenth son of Zemo, what brings you to me? Why risk your life, your youth, for this?”

I did not dare unleash my glamour to pry the truth out of him, nor did I need to. His words came easily from the very depths of his soul.

“Revenge,”

His eyes glossed over as he said the word. No longer was Zemo looking at me, though, even if his eyes were trained on my own. Instead, he was looking somewhere distant. A wrath that moments before had seemed so personally tailored against me and my existence now resided not within me, but far beyond me… Interesting

I could work with that.

The whole situation was incredibly delicate. One wrong move from me and he would be lunging for any remaining weapon in the vicinity. I walked the razor’s edge, the snake in Eden. But would he bite?

My voice came low like a prayer.

“Against who? Me?”

“Against all of the monsters in this world,” Something akin to madness pushed through the man’s demeanor. It smelled inky and burnt on the skin: a human crematorium. Loss. “The things that roam and kill without a second thought, bloodsuckers like you who thrive off the deaths of those around them. Mostly, though,” Zemo grimaced, “I want to put a silver bullet between the eyes of Tony Stark and every monstrosity he’s ever created,”

Tony. He had a son.

Despite the palpable tension in the air and the pang of shock that hit me at the mention of Howard’s offspring, the wrong Stark, I shrugged my shoulders, keeping up my unbothered persona as long as I possibly could. Anything to keep this moving forward. Anything to keep him talking and not attacking. Any excuse to keep him alive just a few minutes more. “You aren’t the first person to wish for a Stark’s demise,”

He stilled. “Maybe, but I will be the last,”

“What makes you so certain that you will succeed where even I have failed?”

“He killed my wife and son,”

After all the years I’d spent surviving off of the sacrifices of others, I had thought my heart was stone. That there was nothing left, just petrified muscle and dust. Somehow, though, I could feel it thump and ache for him. Ache for his wife, his child. All at once his early arrival made all the sense in the world.

There would be no eighteenth birthday to wait for.

No more sons, he’d said. Not now, not ever.

My voice shook ever so slightly in the mist. “I’m sorry for your loss,”

Zemo shook his head. Greasy, unkempt hair fell over his eyes, shading them, hiding them away from my prying gaze. “You say that now, and yet you were the one who killed my father,”

Touche.

Uncomfortable emptiness filled the air. Neither one of us made a move to continue the banter.

It would be as easy as breathing for me to put him out of his misery. I could drink my fill of him and forget. After a few decades, my imagination would stop being haunted by the chubby cheeks of a boy who would never find a calling, fall in love, or have chubby-cheeked babies of his own. Zemo could have destroyed me too, in that moment, just as easily as I could have destroyed him. He couldn’t know it, but I would have let him. It would be as easy as lunging for his unbroken sword and ending it all. I wouldn’t dodge. I wouldn’t dare. Not when the guilt I had hidden away so well was finally rearing its ugly face.

This one felt different. He was like nothing I’d encountered in all of my long, miserable years of life. Maybe he was even more needed than Pietro had been.

If I were to end my empty existence at his hand, I could die happily.

The idea came clear.

It had been foggy before, a half-assed imagining. I could overpower him, control his fragile mortal mind, and keep him tucked away somewhere where I could covet the feeling of his resistance against me, all to ease the endless, aching loneliness I still felt every day. He didn’t need to come willingly. Just like Pietro, I could break him to my will. If I could do it to another vampire, how hard could a stubborn mortal be?

Now, though, I saw a different path through the darkness. It was a terrible idea. Self-destructive. Awful.

The worst part? It might just work.

“Howard Stark stole something from me too, once”

Zemo scoffed in disgust. “Your wealth?”

“No, my blood,”

My deepest secrets flew plainly from my lips like they were nothing more than facts. We lapsed into momentary silence once again.

“So those creatures in the countryside…”

“Are a part of me, yes,” I mindlessly fiddled with the hem of my coat pocket, feeling the weight and heat of the silver within. “I have regretted trusting him every day for the last seventy-two years,”

Zemo stepped back and I let go of the breath I’d been holding for what felt like decades. Finally, someone else knew. The jig was up. In its wake, he seemed pensive. Thoughtful. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he seemed lonely too.

This mess was my fault, that much was plain. I hadn’t set foot outside of this damned forest since 1943 and yet, somehow, the choices I had made back then had led to the destruction of my mother country. No amount of solitude could pay the penance I owed for the crimes I had committed now, no matter how desperately I had tried.

The worst of it all was that so much was still unknown. If so many of those hybrid spawn had made it here to my home, how many more had ended up elsewhere? Was it just Sokovia that was overwhelmed by them? Who made it out? How many women and children had died at the hands of my own blood?

I rid my head of the poisonous memories as best as I could, shoving down the growing pool of guilt and regret that had been threatening to boil over for longer than I thought I could have swallowed.

One thousand years of death was finally here for its vengeance, and it was fast approaching; finally catching up to me. It was poetic, though, for it to come from him.

“I am willing to listen to your proposal,” Zemo said. “Let’s get on with it,”

“Alright. I’m offering information about the Stark family; everything I know about their affliction, my affliction, their plans to use it, the weaknesses of the monsters that will stand in your way. Anything you want, anything I know from all of my years in this life, is yours for the taking,”

He replied plainly, eyes suspicious. “I won’t spare your life,”

“Did I ask you to?” I stepped towards him. We were nose to nose again. “You can’t kill me. It wouldn’t even take a second for me to snap your neck and leave you here to die in paralyzed agony—it would be so easy—but I’ve decided against it. I’ve already had my fun for far too long, so stay here and learn all you must know from me for as long as you’d like. If you ever manage to learn enough to kill me, we shall duel honorably as your forefathers did before you. Either you will die here a failure, or you will leave here with all of the information you need to become the deadliest hunter in history. Once that’s completed, your revenge will be all but guaranteed,”

Ever the skeptic, he tilted his head to the side. “But what do you gain from this? Why would you decide against getting rid of me before I become a threat?”

“Companionship, stimulation, absolution; take your pick,”

“A meal?”

“Not until you die. Not unless you ask,”

Stroking his beard, Zemo took a step back and looked me over with a discerning eye. He had examined me intensely before, but it was like a canine scoping out its prey. Now, though, he searched me for signs of verity, any reason to distrust the suspiciously beneficial deal I had all but laid at his feet. Around us, the world seemed to pause for him as it might have for me.

“As soon as I have the power to kill you, you’ll be dead,” he muttered.

And so my final deal was struck.

“I look forward to you trying,”

--------------

Thank you for reading! Once completed, the next chapter will be linked here.

This work has been crossposted to Ao3

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader #daniel brühl #fanfiction #fanfic #vampire au #vampire hunter helmut zemo #pietro maximoff #marvel x reader #x reader #marvel fanfiction

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bettyfrommars · 1 year

Text

Stop the World and Melt with You (p. 2)

Eddie Munson x Fem reader

Summary: You're starting to realize you might not be in Kansas anymore, so to speak. You meet Claudia Henderson, the woman who owns the motel, and Eddie's boss tells him that getting to know you might not be a good idea.

Series Masterlist

Confusion//memory loss//lots of cats//time travel//universe travel//there will be eventual smut but not for a while//reader and Eddie are in their mid-20's. Word count: 2k

A/N: this story has been on my mind for a while, but I've never attempted a series on here, so it should be fun. This is also very heavy on 80's nostalgia.

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The Grove Motel was owned by a woman named Claudia Henderson, and there were several resident cats in the lobby; big, and beautiful, lounging around in the front window, on the desk, and in one of the chairs by the rack of brochures. Inside was warm, making your cheeks flush immediately; the smell in the air was a mix of Glade floral room spray and the lingering twang of tobacco smoke. The carpet was orange shag, and there was a famed piece of velvet kitten art above the self-serve coffee station against the mustard yellow wall.

To put how you were feeling in that moment into words would be to betray the core of it, to make minimal the deep sense of familiarity and confusion that you felt.

The bell above the door dinged when you walked in and the woman Eddie had told you about came around the corner holding a ginger tabby with a bell on its pink color. She was a middle aged, jolly woman who always had a bit of tight concern behind her eyes, even when she was smiling.

“Claudia?” You stepped forward, holding your luggage in front of you. You felt like an Anne of Green Gables orphan dropped off alone at a train station. “Eddie, down at the garage, said that you might have a room available for the night?”

The cat in her arms twisted and yowled and she put it down with a yelp. “Sorry,” she flapped her hand in the air and fixed her hair. “I’m just trying to trim the nails on this beast.”

She opened a big appointment book in front of her on the desk and ran her ringer down a row, her brows knitted together. You looked around, recalling that there had only been one vehicle other than yours in the parking lot. Hopefully they weren’t in the middle of a renovation or something, because the clock on the wall said it was after 6, and you didn’t want to have to sleep in your truck, or drive back to wherever you came from, because you didn’t know where that was.

Another cat jumped up on top of the appointment book she was looking at, and she had a whispered conversation about manners with him before lowering him to the ground. Behind her on the counter you see a few license plates in a stack and wonder if someone had used them as payment.

“Well, you can have practically any room in the motel, including mine,” she gave a self-deprecating laugh as she closed the book. “We haven’t had many...visitors lately. It’s been pretty quiet around here.”

You hesitate, not sure what to do with that information, wondering if she wants you to pick a number or…

“Room 8, how about that? There’s a nice TV in there and the carpet was just cleaned.” She looks down, opens a drawer, and you can hear the jangling of keys. She raises her eyes to you, waiting for an answer: “Do you like the number 8?”

You’d never considered having favorites as far as numbers went. “Does that room have a phone?”

“Oh, sure, sure,” Claudia holds up a blue key fob with a single metal key hanging from it. “All of the rooms have phones hunny, we aren’t living in the dark ages here.”

--------

Sitting on the bed in your motel room, you stare at the phone on the nightstand. It’s big, heavy, vintage, pea green, and it had a clear rotary dial on it; a circle for each number. You remember playing with a plastic one as a kid, but you can’t say you’ve ever used a real one. Your grandmother had a wall mounted landline in her kitchen with a long, spiral cord that would stretch, enabling you to take the receiver with you into the living room or to the bathroom. You saw a similar one at an antique store once, and someone had gutted the inside and made it into a planter with succulents growing out where the rotary dial had been.

Your breath catches for a moment, trying to seize that memory on the fickle breeze of your mind, but then it’s already gone. Were those your memories or did they belong to someone else? Did that wall phone you remembered belong to your grandmother, or was it from a movie you saw?

“Dial 9 to get out,” Claudia told you, as she turned the ledger around for you to sign, and you were too embarrassed to ask her what that meant. You’d ask Eddie later, but for now—you needed to wash your face and get ready.

The carpet at your feet was the same dark orange shag from the lobby, but the bedspread was a blue and green floral; the green being a perfect match to the rotary dial phone. There was a modest, round table by the window with two tan, wicker back chairs that matched the wicker of the TV stand and the dresser. The bathroom though—the bathroom was pink. The sink and the tub and the tile on the floor were a pepto bismol pink, and you smiled to yourself at how retro it was as you put your makeup bag on the Formica sink top.

You realized you didn’t have time for a shower, but you cleaned up as well as you could. It occurred to you as you were making your mouth into an “O” shape to apply your mascara, that it should be a pretty terrifying thing to not remember where you came from or where you were going. Most people would be hysterical. Why weren’t you? If there was one thing you were good at, it was dissociating and compartmentalizing when life became overwhelming. But why did you have this gut feeling that this is where you were headed, and there was nothing for you in the place that you had come from?

Then next, and most obvious thing you asked yourself was: am I asleep? Is this a dream? But everything was too real, the only thing cloudy was your memory. You finished one set of lashes and put the tube of mascara down as a gentle fear rose in you---was there a chance that you were dead, and this was some kind of afterlife? But, if that were the case, why did you just start your period and stain the fresh pair of undies you just put on? Please, no, please at the very least—make the afterlife be a place where you didn’t start your period unexpectedly and ruin another piece of clothing.

Thankfully, there were a few tampons at the bottom of your overnight bag, but you’d have to buy more. Or, trade for more, or whatever the hell it was they did here in...in…

What was the name of the town you were in?

You remembered seeing a notepad by the phone with the name of the motel on it, and you stopped what you were doing to go over and look at it closer.

It said, ‘The Grove Motel’ under an orange and brown rainbow, and then under that in smaller lettering said: Hawkinsgate, Indiana.

Indiana? You dropped the notepad to the nightstand, backing up from it as if it were about to detonate.

You knew, in that moment, that wherever you came from before was nowhere near Indiana. But, there had to be an explanation.

You stepped to the window and pulled back one side of the tan curtains, looking out at the street and the horizon beyond. There was a residual purple glow from the sunset, and you watched a few of the cars go by, realizing with a dry mouth, that all of the vehicles were older; not a single one had been new since the 80’s. You got up closer to the window and put your head to the cool glass to look down at the only other car in the lot, parked at the far end. It was a blue and white Chevy Blazer from 1983 with ‘Hawkinsgate Police’ written on the side.

You stepped back from the window, letting the curtain fall, pressing your tongue against the back of your teeth to make an unconscious whistling noise as your brain threatened to cave in on you.

Turning the TV on seemed like the next best move. By then, it didn’t shock you to find that the TV was a vintage, 20” box style with only two dials on the side and no remote. Bent over in front of it, you turned the top knob as it went ‘klunk klunk’ making its way to each of the 4 channels between bursts of snow static. On one of the channels was an episode of Murder She Wrote, and Jessica Fletcher was getting to the bottom of a crime like only Jessica Fletcher knew how. You were worried that maybe the show would be different, like perhaps Lucille Ball played the main character instead of Angela Lansbury—but thankfully, the casting was still the same. At least you had that to hold onto.

---------

Eddie got his hands all foamy with the green bar of soap, getting under his nails with an old toothbrush he kept there for that purpose, and dried them on a towel that looked like it had been hanging there for weeks. He pulled the orange towel off of the metal hook with a grunt so that he could take it home and wash it, as it was always something he forgot to do. There were paper towels in the bathroom too, but he hated using them.

Gary was leaning against the wall, waiting with his hands in his front pockets when Eddie walked out.

“Do you really think this is a good idea?”

Eddie threw him a dirty look, only because he hadn’t expected him to be standing there, but then his face softened as he threw the old towel over his lunch box.

“A man’s gotta eat, Gary,” Eddie took his bandanna of and smoothed his hair back behind his ears with a sigh.

“You know what I mean,” Gary—unarguably the older, wiser, and bigger of the two---was blocking Eddie’s path to the exit. “You just never know about these visitors. They come and they go—it’s not a good idea to get attached.”

Eddie rested his hip on a countertop next to a wall full of tools on hooks and a poster of a swimsuit model sitting on a Corvette.

“Who is getting attached?” Eddie cracked a smile but lowered his head. “It’s just dinner. I didn’t want to eat alone again, that’s all.”

Gary just looked at him, and shifted his weight to the other foot.

“You ever think that maybe this one is different?” Eddie looked into the empty garage, asking the question to himself more than anything. “Some of them do end up staying.”

Mona, the resident black cat, crawled up on the table next to Eddie for some love, and to get to her food and water dishes. She arched her back and curled her tail as he moved his hand along her spine, pausing to rub her ears.

“The problem is, she won’t be able to choose---it’s not a choice for them, or for you. One day, you will wake up and she will be gone, son, and you will never see her again.”

“You don’t know that,” Eddie’s eyes snapped to his. “You can’t know how it works or where they go.”

Gary gave a high, long shrug, acknowledging that what he said was true.

“Besides,” Eddie put his arms out to his side, cracking a smile again. His rings were in a metal dish on the table and he slid them on one by one. “I barely know the girl, I’m just going to eat with her at the same table.” He bent down to pick up the towel and his lunch box, and under his breath he said, “I’ll probably scare her off, anyway.”

Gary watched Eddie get in his van and drive away, thinking about time and age and how he envied the hope that was eager to wage the war against reality in the hearts of young people. The night was gathering into a dark purple gloom as the fog settled in and the mist from the rain on the cement made the air smell like metal sparks. Mona came over to weave at his feet, wrapping her tail around his calves as she went. He thought about Eddie, how he was like a son to him, and how much that kid had already been through in his young life, and he prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that he was wrong to feel so afraid for him.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson series #stranger things #stranger things au #eddie munson x fem reader #stranger things series #fem reader #1980s nostalgia

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