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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 5 months

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Hi sweet angel, I have to admit that I'm new to your profile, but my obsession with your writing is almost as great as my obsession with snow, I have a request that changes the story a little bit.

Coryo is completely obsessed with the reader, but she thinks he is just an affectionate friend, both become mentors and instead of snow falling in love with lucy, it is the reader who falls in love with her tribute, and begins to move away from Snow, he can not accept this and manipulates the games, Not for lucy to win, but rather, to get rid of the reader's tribute. (Sorry for any mistake, English is not my mother tongue, so I use Google translator)

Slipping Through My Fingers || Young!Coriolanus Snow x reader

GIF by i forgot sorry :( divided by @firefly-graphics

A/n: this took me forever to finish idk why 😭 also this has to be the longest fic i've written so far.

Warnings: mention of blood, possessive coryo, mentions of death

Wc: 2,975

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

"Can I see you tomorrow morning?" Coriolanus looks down at you with hope in his eyes, you open your mouth but close it before sighing. "I can't, sorry. My parents want me to be home when my grandparents are there," You lie through your teeth as he hums, nodding.

"That's fine, tomorrow afternoon then?" His hand touches your waist as you smile up at the boy. "Of course Coryo, I'll see you then?" You touch his hand that was at your waist as he nods. You give him one final smile before disappearing around the corner.

You felt bad for lying to him but you didn't know how he would take it if he found out that you were actually going to meet your tribute first thing when his train from the districts arrived in Panem. Your tribute, Dean, from district 8 intrigued you. You couldn't keep your eyes of the screen when he appeared. He caught your eye immediately.

Coryo couldn’t stop complaining all day about his tribute from district 12, Lucy Gray. Saying that she would not last a second in the game. Unlike him, you had faith in your tribute.

So here you were, standing on the platform waiting for the train to come to a halt as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. A smile on your face, dimples on display as the doors open revealing Dean. He was taller than you imagined, but nonetheless, he looked surreal. There was no denying that Dean was good looking, incredibly good looking which you would imagine would play a role in the amount of donations he would have.

"Dean. Y/n Y/l/n. I'll be your mentor." You extend your hand out in front of him as he looks you up and down before shaking your hand. His shake was firm, his fingers calloused. An indication that he was a hard worker.

"Are you supposed to be here? I don't see other people like you around here," He says as he looks around the train station. You notice Coriolanus' tribute, Lucy Gray walking by and staring at the two of you questioningly. You make eye contact with her before clearing your throat and looking back at Dean who hadn't kept his eyes off of you.

"No. I'm not supposed to be here." You confess, your hands fidgeting with the ends of your skirt as Dean raises an eyebrow at you. "Then.... what are you doing here?" You pause. What were you doing here? You could have waited like the others for tomorrow to meet him.

"I uh- I wanted to welcome you to the Capitol." You offer him a smile. Silence. "Can I be blunt with you Dean?" Your head slightly tilts, a habit of yours when you ask questions. "Sure," He shrugs. "I see potential in you," You hold his hands in between yours as he glances down at your intertwined hands with an expression you couldn't quite figure out.

"You can win this hunger games. And I will do everything in my power to make sure that you do. Such potential like you for a bright future shouldn't be wasted," You solemnly smile at him. Dean stays quiet for awhile, his hand still in yours before a peacekeeper roughly pulls him away from you.

"Hey!" You shout as you follow the two. "It's time for them to go Miss." The peacekeeper says as he throws Dean into the back of a van. Just as he walks away from your view to close the door, you jump into the van along with the rest of the tributes. "What are you doing!" Dean whispers yells at you as you stay hidden behind him.

You let out a sigh of relief once the doors close. "What's this? Is this your mentor, Dean?" A girl you recognised to be Carol asks with a sinister smile. You push past Dean and extend your hand out for her to shake. She looks at your face then your hand and lets out a laugh.

"Why would I shake hands with someone like you." She spat as a few others laugh alongside her. You notice Lucy Gray once more, sitting there silently. "Why do you get special treatment Dean, huh?" Carol pushes you backwards catching you off balance as Dean catches you.

"I could kill her right now," Carol chuckles like a maniac. Dean moves you behind him, "Leave her alone," He voices out, his tone screaming authority. Before Carol could respond, the van shook violently as you all lose your balance. You let out a groan as you felt your body slam against the van door before it flies open, causing you all to roll out onto hard rocks.

You let out a groan as you slowly lift up your head, squinting your eyes at your surrounding before you hear Dean's voice. "Y/n! Are you alright?" He asks worriedly as his grips your bicep, aiding you to stand up as you realise where you were. You were at the zoo cage.

You place a hand on your head as you let out a low groan. "Excuse me! Hello! Over there! Can they not hear me in there?" You hear a familiar voice belonging to Lucretius Flickerman. Dean takes a hold of your forearm, helping you keep balance as he whispers to you, "Own it." You look up at him with a small smile. He offers his arm to you as you link arms and walk towards the iron bars.

"Y/n Y/l/n, one of the mentors for the 10th hunger games." Lucretius says to the camera as he then directs his gaze towards you. "The game makers did tell you to jump into the cage with them," His tone was skeptical. Dean looks down at you as you glance at him before looking at Lucky.

"They didn't tell me not to. They just said it was a mentor's job to introduce our tributes to the citizens of Panem, and I thought well if Dean is brave enough to be here, then why shouldn't I be too?" You say with confidence, "For the record, I didn't have a choice," Dean butts in.

"What is Y/n doing there?" Arachne gasps as she ctaches the attention of Snow and the others as they look to the screen. There you were, linked arms with a tribute, looking awfully comfortable with him to add. Snow furrows his eyebrows at disbelief that you were there.

You told him that you were to be at home, but clearly not. Coriolanus watches with intent as you look at Dean when he spoke. His fists bawl up as Clemensia makes a comment. "You alright Coryo? You look.... bothered," Her hands rest on Snow's upper arm as he pries her touch off of him.

"I'm fine," He snaps as he leans forward on his seat. He was bothered. Very bothered seeing you so close with a tribute. "He's obviously not fine, he's bothered seeing Y/n so touchy with her tribute, isn't that right Snow?" Arachne teases as he slams his hand on the table causing her to shut up. "Shut it, Crane." Coriolanus says through gritted teeth as Arachne puts her hands up in surrender.

"They look really close. Can't blame Y/n honestly, she got a good looking one," He hears Clemensia quietly say before he had enough and stood up, storming off.

"Coryo," You call out as you catch up to him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you offer him a smile. He says nothing, his face stern as he continues to walk, not bothering to look at you. "Hey listen, I'm sorry I stood you yesterday, I just got super busy-" "Yeah I saw, busy with your tribute right?" He gives you a sarcastic smile as you scrunch your eyebrows.

You were all making your way to the enclosed cage to talk to your tributes. "What?" Snow rolls his eyes at you, finally stopping. "I saw your interview with Flickerman. Looked awfully close to your tribute," You let out small chuckle as his face shows no sign of amusement.

"Coryo, I was just introducing myself to him and getting to know him that's all. I have faith in him that he will win and I wanted him to know that. Wouldn't you do the same with your tribute if you had faith in her?" You touch his arm as he looks at your hand.

"Right?" You try and get a response from him as he sighs, "I guess," Is all he says before intertwining his hands with yours. You look down at your hands, a sweet gesture from him. When you both get closer to the tributes, you unclasp your hands with Snow and walk towards Dean who has already seen you and was making his way closer to you.

"Hey," You greet Dean as you look through your bag and find the half of your sandwich and cookie which you put away for him. You hand it to him as he thanks you, immediately taking bites as you watch him. He could feel your stares as you look away. Your eyes land on Coriolanus and Lucy.

He was talking to her about something as Lucy looks towards you and Dean. Snow finally looks at you, his expression cold as you gulp and look at Dean who was already looking at you. "He your boyfriend or something?" He asks as he takes another bite of the cookie. Your eyes widen. "Who? Coryo? No." You laugh as Dean stares at you.

"He's just a close friend of mine." You say as he nods, unbothered. "Do you? Do you- uh- have a-" "No." He deadpans as you slowly nod. From afar, Snow was watching the two of you interact the entire time. "Do you want to win Lucy Gray?" He turns his attention from you to his tribute.

"Do you think I can win?" She asks him as he thinks. "Honestly? no." He admits as Lucy scoffs. "But if you listen to what I say and do what I tell you to do, you will." His tone was stern as Lucy nods, her eyes following his eyeline which led to you and Dean. "That your girlfriend? That girl who was with us yesterday in the van."

"Her and Dean seem to be close, don't you think?" Lucy watches Coriolanus' face, his jaw clenching at the mention of the two. "They're not close, she just knows how to play the game," Coriolanus snaps before standing up and backing away from Lucy Gray.

You hadn't spoken much to Coriolanus the past couple of days. You were with Dean quite a lot, making up strategies and scenarios for when the games started. "I care about you, Dean. A lot." You take his hands in yours, the sound of his iron shackles making you cringe as you look him the eyes. Dean looks around the room before caressing your hand.

You and Dean have gotten very close over the past days. You both had faith in each other, trusted one another. Coriolanus narrows his eyes at the two of you, 2 desks away from him before his gaze settles on your touching hands.

He lets out a quiet scoff as Lucy Gray looks over to you and Dean. "Do you know him?" Snow asks her as he cocks his head towards Dean. Lucy shakes her head. "You want to win, don't you?" He leans in close to her.

Lucy hesitantly nods her head, "Yes. Yes you do Lucy." He answered for her, his gaze hard on her as she squirmed under his stare. "You need to kill Dean first. You need to before he kills you. He's a strong competitor, I can tell, that's why you need him out first. Then, it will be a piece of cake." He smirks as he leans back on his chair. "What do I need to do?"

“Y/n,” Coriolanus calls out as you turn your head to his direction, a small smile on his face as you beam at him. You run to him, throwing your arms around him as you hug him tightly. Coryo was caught off guard but eventually hugs you back.

“Good luck,” You say, although it was slightly muffled against his shirt. “You too,” He says back, his hand rubbing your back as you pull back, giving him your pearly white grin that only a few were able to see. Coriolanus felt a pull at his heart for he knew what was going to happen would break you.

Your other classmates arrive as you get settled for the 10th hunger games to start. Your eyes were trained on the screen as you watch Dean kill 2 people. You bite your fingernails as you continue to watch it play out infront of your eyes. Coriolanus offers his hand as you take it, squeezing it as you watch Dean.

A couple hours pass by and everyone sits up when they watch Coryo's tribute, Lucy Gray being corned by a few of the others, Dean included. In the corner of your eye, you watch Coryo come up to his screen and rapidly click.

Your eyes flicker back to the screen as drones of water come flying at the tributes, knocking them out as the room erupts in gasps. "These drones are not very good," Flickerman comments. "Hey! What are you doing?" Vipsania shouts as she stands up.

"You can't attack the tributes Coryo!" You snap at him. "I'm just sending water," He coolly says as you shake your head and scoff. Dean managed to dodge them luckily. You watch as Lucy Gray runs, Dean chasing after her as your leg bounces.

She manages to hide in one of the vent holes as you notice Snow let out a sigh of relief. Dean punches the vent in anger as he eventually leaves her. A few more hours pass by as you fell asleep, the sound of banging wakes you up. Coryo was nowhere to be found.

Your eyes focus on the screen as Dean and Coral stand underneath a vent pipe. Coral's pitchfork was reportingly stabbing at the vents above. Dean follows the noises, his gaze on the vent. "Coral. Coral she's right here," He whispers to her as she continues stabbing at the vent. Coriolanus then runs in, "Lucy Gray, is she okay?" He says out of breath.

"She wont be for long," Festus comments as everyone's eyes are trained on the screen. All of a sudden, Dean touches his nose as he looks confused. You immediately stand up on your feet, "Wait, what's wrong with Dean?" You move closer as he falls on his knee making your heart race.

"Did Coral do something to Dean?" You panic as Dean starts spazzing out on the floor. Coryo glances at you. Lucy Gray did what he told her to do. He had snuck her rat poison to use, if a small amount was to be inhaled, it would be deadly.

You cover your mouth as your eyes widen. Dean was laying on the ground, not moving at all. You flinch at the sound of a buzzer going off, indicating that he was in fact dead. Dean was dead. And you didn't even know how it happened. You storm out but before you could, Coryo grips your arm, "I'm sorry," He says as you furrow your eyebrows at what he meant before snatching your arm from his grip. "Dean is down. Good afternoon Miss Y/l/n," Flickerman calls out.

You storm out with rage. Dean was supposed to win. He was supposed to make it out alive. You even promised him he would come out alive and go back to his family. One moment he was perfectly fine, and then the next, he's on the floor spazzing out and then dead. Your mind drifts back to Coriolanus' words, I'm sorry. What did that even mean? You assumed he was just apologising that your tribute was dead.

Lucy Gray had managed to win. You were happy for Coryo of course. But Dean’s recent death still plagued your mind. “Y/n,” Coryo breathed out the moment you opened your door to him; he reached out for you, pulling you against his chest.

It caught you by slight surprise before you hugged him back. The pent up emotions finally releasing the moment he rubs your back affectionately. “Shh” He softly shushed you as waterfalls fall down your cheeks. Everything was chasing up to you.

“I-I don’t even know what happened to him,” You sob in his embrace as he traces shapes on your arm. You continued to rant to him as he brought you to your living room.

You rested your head against his chest as he listened, sometimes he would bite his tongue at the things you were saying about Dean. "He was just a tribute y/n-" "He was not just a tribute." You snapped, lifting your head up as you stared at his blue irises.

Coriolanus rolls his eyes the minute you turn your head back around. "He's human, just like you and I. He had dreams, he had a family to go back to Coryo, do not just sit there and tell me he was just a tribute. He's more than a tribute," Coriolanus listened to every single word that came out of your mouth.

He did not agree with most of the things you said but for the sake of it, he said nothing. When you spoke about Dean, it grew on Coriolanus that you infact liked him, alot. Perhaps even more than like. And that was why he felt the need to kill him. You were his, only his. And after all, he couldn't have some lowly district boy taking over your body and soul.

#fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x lucy gray #the hunger games #the hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas imagine #young coriolanus snow #young president snow #president snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus smut

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inou-ie · 2 months

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DEAL WITH THE DEVIL | HSR DEMON!AU PART1

pairing(s): demon!(kafka, jingliu) x sub!female reader

warnings: nsfw, ( kafka - dubcon, fingering, clit stimulation, somnophilia, mirror sex, bondage), (transfem!jingliu - facial, blowjob, rough sex, creampie), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting

read part 2 here

men and minors dni

"Curiosity kills the cat" the saying that fits you well. Trying to summon a demon out of boredom to see what happens, you never thought it would actually work. It worked almost too well, actually. Not only one nor two came... and they just keep coming to you.

Now you're stuck with demons who refuse to leave you alone, tirelessly offering you different kinds of contracts until you eventually gave in. They all share the same goal: to have your soul... which seems to be impossible without them fighting over it.

So, to compromise, they agreed to share your body instead. Now, they take turns to avoid conflict, acknowledging the schedule you made for them and obeying your request to "get along."

KAFKA

"Little master, little master..."

As your eyes slowly fluttered open, a sense of disorientation washed over you. The room was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows across the walls, and your gaze immediately fell upon the large mirror in front of you. Reflecting back was an unsettling image that sent a shiver down your spine.

You sat naked on Kafka's lap, your skin flush against hers, the heat of her body seeping into yours. Your arms were bound tightly behind you, the restraints biting into your skin as they held you in place.

Your legs were splayed apart, each limb secured with the same pink strings that contrasted starkly against your skin, forcing them open in a display of vulnerability. The strings seemed to accentuate every curve and contour of your body, highlighting your exposed form in the most intimate of ways.

Kafka's presence behind you was palpable, her arms wrapped possessively around your waist, holding you firmly against her as she gazed at your reflection with hunger. Her eyes were dark with desire, a wicked grin playing at the corners of her lips as she relished in the sight before her.

Two of Kafka's fingers were buried deep within your pussy, their movements expertly massaging and stroking your sensitive walls with precision. Each motion sent ripples of pleasure coursing through your body, igniting a fiery heat that pooled between your legs, a damp warmth that only intensified with each stroke.

You struggled to piece together how you ended up in this position, your memory hazy and fragmented. All you could recall was the sensation of drifting off to sleep, only to awaken to this surreal scene.

As you tried to make sense of it all, the evidence of Kafka's ministrations was undeniable. A slick, slippery feeling enveloped you, betraying the fact that she had been pleasuring you for some time now. Your body responded instinctively to her touch, arching into her hand as she expertly explored your tight walls.

Kafka hummed softly behind you, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she continued to finger her way deeper into your depths. Her movements were deliberate and skillful, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. She gazed intently at herself in the mirror, reveling in the sight of her actions affecting you so enticingly.

Her eyes gleamed with mischief and desire as she watched your reactions, her own arousal evident in the way her breath hitched with each gasp and moan that escaped your lips.

"Little master, you're so adorable when you sleep... I couldn't help myself." Kafka purred into your ear, her voice dripping with desire as she trailed kisses all over your ear and neck. Her lips left a trail of fiery heat in their wake, igniting a fervent need within you as her fingers continued their relentless exploration, moving deeper and faster with each passing moment.

You whimpered in response, a soft moan escaping your lips as the sensations overwhelmed your senses. Your head fell back against Kafka's chest, seeking solace in her embrace as pleasure coursed through your body like a wildfire.

Suddenly, another pink string wrapped around your neck, its pressure constricting your airway and making it harder for you to breathe. Panic surged through you as you gasped for air, tears welling up in your eyes from the overwhelming mix of pleasure and discomfort.

"Kafka... wai– hmngh..." you managed to choke out, your words cut off by the tightening grip of the string around your neck. The sensation was suffocating, adding an edge of danger to the already intense pleasure that consumed you.

Despite your struggle for breath, Kafka showed no signs of relenting. On the contrary, she curled and twisted her fingers deep within you, hitting all the right spots with pinpoint accuracy. Each movement sent shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through your body, eliciting cries of pleasure and desperation from your lips.

"Shh, it's okay, I'll give you more." Kafka grinned wickedly, her eyes glowing with anticipation as she added another finger, her movements becoming even more relentless and precise. With each thrust, her fingers rubbed against your favorite spot with such delicious precision that it sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making you shake your head in disbelief at just how good it felt.

But Kafka wasn't done yet. With her other hand, she reached for your pulsating clit, her touch gentle yet firm as she gave it the attention it craved. She teased it gently, her fingers dancing over the sensitive flesh before pinching it between her fingers, sending a jolt of sensation coursing through your body.

As she continued to move her fingers deep inside you, her pace quickening with each passing moment, Kafka's words rang in your ears like a tantalizing promise. "That's it, little master. Let go of yourself, let me feed on your desires."

And as if on command, you felt your control slipping away, your body responding eagerly to Kafka's expert touch. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you let out the dirtiest, most primal moan, the sound echoing through the room as your back arched and your hips moved of their own accord.

A rush of pleasure overwhelmed you, building and building until it exploded in a burst of ecstasy. You squirted all over the mattress and onto Kafka's hand, your release washing over you in waves as you surrendered completely to the overwhelming pleasure that consumed you.

But Kafka wasn't ready to release you from her grip just yet. With a firm hand, she held your head still, forcing you to gaze at your own reflection in the mirror while she continued to pump her fingers into your dripping walls with relentless determination.

"Look at how erotic your body is, little master." she chuckled, her long tongue tracing the shell of your ear. The sensation made you even more sensitive, your body quivering with anticipation as Kafka's words washed over you like a forbidden caress.

"I just came..." you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper as you tried to slide off Kafka's lap in a feeble attempt to escape the overwhelming sensations. But she held you firmly in place, another set of pink strings wrapping around your legs and spreading them apart even wider.

As if that wasn't enough, her hand tightened around your neck, adding to the pressure of the strings already wrapped around your throat. You gasped for air, the sensation both exhilarating and terrifying as Kafka exerted her dominance over you.

And then, just like that, Kafka pulled her fingers out, leaving you empty and achingly needy. You groaned in response, your dripping folds quivering with unsatisfied desire as you looked at your reflection in the mirror, your pussy trembling with need.

"Now, little master... I want you to cum only from your clit. You can do that, right?" Kafka cooed, her voice dripping with desire as she kissed your cheek and temple, inhaling your scent.

As you reluctantly nodded, a mixture of emotions flooded your senses. Tears of pleasure trickled down your cheeks and Kafka quickly wiped them away, her touch both comforting and terrifying.

"I want you to watch yourself closely," Kafka whispered, her voice laced with authority. "If I catch you closing your eyes, then I'll have to punish you." With a firm yet tender grip, Kafka pulled you up, preventing you from slipping down her lap in your weakened state. Her gaze locked with yours, a silent command to obey her every instruction.

"Don't melt yet, little master." Kafka's laughter echoed in the room, her amusement adding to your vulnerability. As her hand delicately spread your pussy open, revealing your hardening clit, you couldn't help but arch into her touch, surrendering completely to the pleasure and dominance she wielded over you.

With a gentle yet firm touch, Kafka's other hand reached down to tap your quivering clit with a single finger. "Watch, little master." she reminded you, her voice a soft command. Your teary eyes remained glued to the reflection, every movement of her fingers magnified in your vision.

You observed intently as she tapped your clit repeatedly, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your breath caught in your throat as she teased your entrance, dipping her finger slightly, so close yet just out of reach.

Struggling to steady your breathing, your chest heaved with anticipation. Just as you began to get used to the rhythmic tapping, Kafka's thumb pressed firmly against your clit, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. Your head instinctively threw back in ecstasy, a moan escaping your lips as you gritted your teeth against the overwhelming sensation.

Kafka maintained the pressure with her thumb, as if determined to crush the little bundle of nerves beneath her touch. Your senses were ablaze, every nerve ending alive with pleasure as she skillfully manipulated you to the brink of ecstasy. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, she released her hold, only to rub your clit between her fingers with a deft precision that left you gasping for breath.

You struggled to keep your focus, your resolve weakening with each passing moment. "Rub, rub, rub..." Kafka's voice murmured in your ear, perfectly in sync with her movements.

Your body writhed uncontrollably, caught in the throes of pleasure like a helpless kitten crying out for attention. Soft moans escaped your lips, each one a testament to the overwhelming sensations coursing through every fiber of your being. Your toes curled involuntarily, your entire being consumed by the exquisite torture Kafka subjected you to.

"Little master, I told you to watch yourself." Kafka's voice rang out, firm and unwavering when she noticed you closing your eyes, trying to block out some of the pleasure. The strings around your neck tightened, eliciting a groan of both pleasure and frustration from deep within your throat. With effort, you forced your eyes open, meeting your reflection with half-lidded eyes, your gaze glazed over with lust and desire.

"I can't... this is..." you attempted to protest, but coherent thoughts eluded you, lost amidst the overwhelming ecstasy that Kafka's skilled fingers invoked. She worked with precision and expertise, her fingers deftly rubbing your clit before catching it between her fingers to deliver gentle pinches and pulls that sent jolts of pleasure coursing through your entire body.

It was too much... too much... toomuch... too– "Kafka... nngh!" you cried out, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you, your pussy clenching around nothing as you released a torrent of arousal, splattering the mirror and mattress with your cum.

"More, little master... give me more!" Kafka urged and without pause, she continued her relentless assault, plunging two fingers deep within you with her free hand while simultaneously continuing to rub and tease your clit, driving you to new heights of ecstasy with each passing moment.

As your body surrendered to the overwhelming waves of pleasure, you melted into Kafka's lap, a puddle of ecstasy and desire. Each climax seemed to fuel the next, sending you spiraling into a frenzy of pleasure induced delirium. Drool escaped your parted lips, mingling with the tears of bliss that streaked your flushed cheeks.

"Can't order me to stop, little master?" Kafka's taunting words only added to the intoxicating mix, her grin a wicked challenge to your authority, knowing full well the extent of your vulnerability in this moment of ecstasy.

Kafka tilted your head gently, her touch bringing a sense of comfort amidst the overwhelming pleasure that consumed you. Her gentle smile calmed your senses as she leaned in, capturing your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. You moaned into her mouth as her long tongue explored every corner of your warm mouth.

Even as she kissed you, Kafka's fingers continued their relentless assault on your quivering pussy, her thumb rubbing your swollen clit with just the right amount of pressure to send waves of ecstasy. With her other hand, she teased and taunted your nipple, rolling it between her fingers with gentle force.

The intensity of the pleasure was almost unbearable, every touch sending you spiraling further into ecstasy as you squirmed weakly beneath her touch. But Kafka held you firmly in place with her strings, ensuring that you remained completely at her mercy.

"My master... how about belonging solely to me?" Kafka whispered against your lips as she pulled away, her voice laced with desire and possessiveness. "How about I get rid of those silly demons trying to get your attention from me?" Her wicked grin sent shivers down your spine as she licked and bit your lip sensually.

You shook your head slowly, tears welling up in your eyes as you gazed at Kafka with a mixture of longing and fear. You didn't want them to fight, after all. "No..." you managed to mumble, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing.

Kafka's gaze softened at your response, a hint of understanding in her eyes as she leaned in to kiss you once more, her hunger evident in the way she hungrily sucked on your tongue before pulling away. "Is that a command or a request?" she teased, her breath hot against your skin as she resumed her relentless assault on your senses.

"I get it... as long as you surrender to every one of my desires every time it's my turn, then everything will be alright." Kafka reassured, her words a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves as she continued to stimulate every inch of your exhausted body.

For hours on end, Kafka held you captive, her skilled hands and tongue expertly navigating every inch of your trembling form. From your clit to your pussy, and even to your perky nipples, no part of you escaped her relentless pursuit of pleasure. Your mind that was already teetering on the edge of sanity, eventually succumbed to the overwhelming sensations, shutting down completely under the weight of the ecstasy that engulfed you.

With a satisfied smirk, Kafka finally released her hold on your unconscious body, allowing you to collapse onto the bed beneath you. The marks left by her strings served as a stark reminder of the power she wielded over you.

"My weak little master." Kafka's voice was a soft murmur, laced with amusement and possessiveness. "I will spend every second of my scheduled day with you. I will not waste any time." With a predatory glint in her eyes, she positioned herself between your legs, her long tongue poised and ready to taste the remnants of your climax.

"Time for my meal..."

JINGLIU

"Slowly, human... no need to take it all." Jingliu's voice was cold, a command laced with amusement as you knelt between her legs, her fingers threading through your hair with a gentle yet firm touch, you felt a surge of anticipation coursing through your veins.

The weight of her thick length against your lips sent a thrill of excitement tingling down your spine, and you eagerly began to lick and suckle at the engorged head, savoring every drop of precum that oozed from the slit.

A low, guttural moan escaped your lips as you lavished attention upon her, your tongue dancing along every ridge and vein, your mouth eager to make her feel good. Jingliu observed you with a smirk, her gaze filled with a mixture of desire and amusement as she reclined, basking in the pleasure of your ministrations.

"So eager..." she murmured, her fingers tracing patterns on your scalp in a gentle caress, silently encouraging you to continue. Her gentle gestures never failed to ignite a fervent desire within you, urging you to please her in every way possible.

Driven by a desire to please this devil, you opened your mouth wide, your tongue swirling around the tip of her length as you attempted to take her whole. But the sheer girth of her hard cock proved too much to handle, and you found yourself choking on her thickness.

Jingliu's reaction was swift and decisive. With a grunt of disapproval, she pushed you away, her gaze piercing through you. "Foolish human..." she sighed, her voice tinged with disappointment. "Do you really wish to take all of me in?" Her hand gently tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet her penetrating gaze.

"I want to..." you responded eagerly, your voice barely above a whisper, your desire evident in every word as you licked your lips, savoring the taste of her cock that lingered on your tongue.

Jingliu couldn't help but chuckle at your fervent enthusiasm, a smirk dancing across her lips as she stood up from her seat, her gaze fixed on you with a hunger that mirrored your own. Without hesitation, she reached out and grabbed your face, her touch both possessive and commanding.

"Then I will help you..." her smirk widened as if she had been anticipating this moment. With deliberate movements, Jingliu positioned herself in front of you, her throbbing cock in hand as she pressed it against your parted lips, urging you to open up. Without hesitation, you complied, your mouth welcoming her with eager anticipation.

"Your wishes are my command, no matter how absurd it is." With a firm grip on your chin, Jingliu guided her length into your mouth, each inch met with resistance as she carefully eased her way in. You could feel the weight of her arousal filling your mouth, stretching your it to your limits.

She continued to push herself deeper into your mouth, eliciting a slight gag reflex from you. But despite the discomfort, the overwhelming sensation of being filled by her was enough to send shivers of pleasure coursing through your entire body.

With a tight grip on Jingliu's hips, you held on for dear life as she guided her length deeper into your mouth, her hand still firmly planted on your chin. Her other hand caressed your head, offering a comforting touch amidst the overwhelming sensations.

"Good, just a little more..." Jingliu whispered, her voice a husky murmur that sent shivers down your spine. Soft groans escaped her lips as she felt your tongue tracing every inch of her inside your mouth, your ministrations driving her to the brink of ecstasy.

Gasping for air, you looked up at Jingliu with needy eyes, silently begging for more. She looked at you with an amused grin and without warning, Jingliu tightened her grip on the back of your head, pushing the remainder of her length into your warm mouth until your eyes nearly rolled back in your head from the sheer intensity of the sensation. You felt impossibly full, stretched to your limits as her girth tested the boundaries of your endurance.

Your throat rebelled against the intrusion, instinctively attempting to push her length away, but Jingliu held you firmly in place. "Do not spit it out." she ordered, her voice firm and unwavering as she observed the tears welling up in your eyes from the strain of taking her girth.

You obediently swallowed every drop of Jingliu's arousal, your throat working to accommodate the intrusion as you moaned around her, the sound muffled by the thickness of her cock. Jingliu remained still for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the sensation, her gaze fixed on your face with a mixture of amusement and admiration.

"A human so delicate yet so greedy..." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she caressed your cheek, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin as she admired the sight of your mouth stuffed full of her cock. Despite the overwhelming fullness, you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at her words, eager to please her in any way you could.

With a soft sigh, Jingliu pulled back slightly, granting you a moment to catch your breath before slowly pushing back in. She repeated the process, each movement calculated to avoid overwhelming you as she gradually increased the intensity of her thrusts. Her hand tangled in your hair, guiding you as you gagged around her, the sensation both exhilarating and humbling.

"Good, good... just keep taking it." she cooed, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she leaned back in pleasure. With each thrust, you clung to her girth, your mouth eagerly sucking her in, desperate to please her.

Jingliu's groans of pleasure only served to fuel your own desire, the sight of her closing her eyes in blissful abandon a testament to the pleasure you were providing her. Despite the strain on your throat and the tears stinging your eyes, you found yourself reveling in the pleasure.

As Jingliu continued to use your mouth for her pleasure, you couldn't ignore the relentless throbbing between your legs, the wetness dripping down your inner thighs a testament to your own arousal. Every thrust of her cock into your mouth only intensified your desire for her, fueling the burning need to feel her deep inside you, filling your tight walls and spilling her cum within you.

Sensing your desperate yearning, Jingliu's eyebrows narrowed in a predatory gaze, her grip on your head tightening as she manipulated you like a toy, bobbing your head back and forth with rough movements.

Her thick head repeatedly hit the back of your throat, eliciting cries and choked gasps from you, but you made no attempt to pull away, eagerly accepting everything she had to give.

"Those eyes... if you keep looking at me like that..." Jingliu trailed off, her voice thick with desire as she buried herself to the hilt, shooting thick ropes of cum into your throat with a loud grunt. As she pulled out, she sprayed the remaining cum onto your pretty face, her hand stroking herself as she breathed heavily.

As Jingliu tried to catch her breath, her cock twitched in the aftermath of her release, droplets of her essence falling to the floor in a silent cascade. Unable to resist the allure of her throbbing length, you leaned in without hesitation, your hand wrapping around her shaft as you took the tip into your mouth.

You sucked and licked at the slit, savoring every drop of her precious release, unwilling to let a single drop go to waste. Jingliu's eyebrows narrowed in a mixture of surprise and satisfaction as she watched you, a sigh escaping her lips at the sensation of your mouth on her cock.

"You... truly are a bottomless pit of pleasure," Jingliu murmured, her voice tinged with amusement and desire. "I have been too soft on you, it seems. Perhaps breaking you thoroughly will keep you satisfied... for once." Her smirk was both playful and predatory, she added with a sigh, a hint of regret coloring her words as she realized the extent of your insatiable desire.

"Should I go all out, human? Should I break you?" Jingliu's voice echoed in the air, a challenge hanging between you like a heavy cloak of anticipation. The desire to see Jingliu go rough on you and dominating you had always lingered in the back of your mind. She had always treated you with care and caution, treating you like a fragile glass that might shatter at the slightest touch.

"Command me to destroy you..." Jingliu urged, her smirk widening as she grabbed your face, her eyes ablaze with insanity. The devilish nature within her seemed to take hold, driving her to crave nothing more than to break you, to mold you into a being that would accept only her will.

Taking a deep breath, you met Jingliu's gaze with determined eyes, the intensity of your desire matching the fervor in hers. "Don't hold back, Jingliu... do what you want to me." you mumbled, your voice a whispered command as you caressed her cheek.

She leaned into your touch as a wicked grin spread across her lips. Jingliu accepted your command, acknowledging you as her master with a hunger that burned deep within her. In one swift motion, she grabbed you, pulling you up to stand before her, her strength evident as she pushed you against the wall with a force that left you breathless.

"Master... master..." Jingliu murmured, her voice a low growl of desire as she licked a trail along your neck, her tongue tracing the contours of your skin with relentless hunger. Her arm wrapped possessively around your waist, pulling you close to her as her other hand gripped her throbbing cock, aligning it with your slick entrance.

"I will train your body to accept me... no matter how rough." she whispered, her voice laced with a promise of pleasure and pain as she pressed the head of her cock into your tight, quivering entrance.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you felt yourself stretch to accommodate her girth, clinging onto her for dear life as she filled you with every inch of her thick cock. Jingliu groaned in ecstasy as she felt your tightness surrounding her, her grip on your hips tightening to keep you steady as she slowly sank deeper into your welcoming heat.

With one final, powerful thrust, Jingliu bottomed out inside you with a grunt, her body pressed tightly against yours as she pinned you against the wall. Every inch of her cock filled you completely, stretching your tight walls to their limit as you struggled to catch your breath amidst the overwhelming sensation of being completely dominated.

Your body trembled with anticipation as Jingliu wasted no time, she pulled back before thrusting back in, setting a relentless pace that left you gasping for air. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, your tight walls clenching and unclenching around her cock in a desperate attempt to accommodate her relentless onslaught.

Starting with short, sharp thrusts, Jingliu gradually increased the intensity of her movements, each withdrawal leaving you craving more before she plunged back in with a force that left you reeling. With each thrust, she hit something deep within you, sending waves of pain and ecstasy crashing over you in a dizzying whirlwind of sensation.

Jingliu pounded you against the wall with bruising force, her grip on you unyielding as if afraid you might escape her grasp. The sound of your moans mingled with her grunts, filling the room with the symphony of your shared desire as the echo of flesh meeting flesh reverberated off the walls.

As you cried out in pleasure and writhed against the wall, your knees growing weak from the intensity of Jingliu's relentless assault, she noticed your struggles and seized one of your legs, lifting it up with a strength that left you feeling utterly exposed. With your leg held high in the air, Jingliu continued to plow your dripping hole with long, deep, and fast strokes, driving you to the brink of ecstasy with each relentless thrust.

"Cry all you want, master... we're just starting." Jingliu chuckled, her voice dripping with lust as she gazed at you with eyes full of desire and you found yourself struggling on the edge of consciousness. With one foot tiptoed and the other held high by Jingliu's strong grasp, you clung to her shoulders desperately, the sheer intensity of the sensations threatening to overwhelm your senses. "Cumming..." you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own moans.

In response, Jingliu increased her speed, driving herself deeper and harder into you with each forceful thrust. Waves of pleasure crashed over you as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of release, your body trembling in Jingliu's arms as juices leaked from your hole uncontrollably.

But despite your orgasm, Jingliu showed no signs of slowing down, her movements relentless as she continued to pound you into oblivion. With each thrust, she pushed you closer and closer to the edge, until finally, you felt the dam of pleasure within you break, your body convulsing in ecstasy as you squirted uncontrollably all over the floor beneath.

You shook your head weakly, attempting to push yourself away from Jingliu's relentless thrusts, but she held you closer, her grip unyielding as she locked eyes with you in a fierce glare. "Don't you dare..." she growled, her voice laced with a warning that sent a shiver down your spine.

Jingliu reached for your other leg, lifting you effortlessly off the floor and causing you to instinctively wrap your legs around her waist for support. Without a moment's hesitation, she resumed her hammering of your stretched pussy, the relentless pounding sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your battered body.

A small puddle of cum formed beneath the both of you, evidence of the intense pleasure you were experiencing. Your eyes grew hazy with exhaustion as she continued to ravage you without mercy, her cock filling you to the brim with each powerful thrust as if you were nothing more than a mere plaything for her pleasure.

Hours passed in a blur of sensation, each orgasm blurring into the next until you felt like you were on the verge of collapse. Your limbs grew weak, your mind numb from the relentless onslaught of pleasure, the only sensation you could feel being Jingliu's cock relentlessly pounding into your womb, filling you with her warm cum over and over again.

"Stay awake, master. You have to." Jingliu reminded you, her voice a cold whisper against your lips before she captured your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. As her thrusts gradually slowed down, you felt a sense of relief wash over you, grateful for the brief respite from the intense pleasure that had consumed you for hours on end.

But even as she granted you a short reprieve, you knew that Jingliu had no intention of letting you rest for long. She was planning to stretch every one of your holes until the last minute of her scheduled day with you, determined to claim every inch of your body as her own.

#inou works #hsr kafka #hsr jingliu #jingliu smut #kafka smut #kafka x female reader #jingliu x female reader #kafka x reader #jingliu x reader #demon au

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unclewaynemunson · 6 months

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"What. The. Fuck."

Over years of living in a trailer park, Eddie has seen his fair share of weird shit. But this right here? This surpasses everything.

Wayne is sitting on the couch in the living room, with an actual baby in his lap and a completely deadpan expression on his face like this is something that happens every day.

"Hey, Ed. Meet Sasha Munson."

"Sasha Munson?" Eddie repeats, hoping that saying the name out loud will make this whole thing less surreal. It doesn't, so he automatically switches right into disbelieving panic mode instead. "Sasha Munson?! What the fuck? She isn't mine, I promise, it's literally impossible, someone must've - Wait, hold on - Is she yours? Aren't you like fifty years too old to knock someone up? What the fuck did you do? Who's the mother? What were you thinking, man, we can't take care of a -"

"Eddie, sit down."

"No, I'm not sitting down, this is ridiculous, what the fucking fuck, we can't -"

"She ain't mine and she ain't yours."

"What the-" It takes a few seconds before Wayne's words sink in. Then, Eddie freezes mid-sentence, giving his brain a second or two to catch up to what Wayne just said.

"Wait, what?" he asks.

He gives the sleeping baby a distrustful look. It's small - too small to be a human, if you asks Eddie. It scares him a little bit.

"Then whose is she?"

"I told ya to sit down, Ed."

And Wayne's voice is so strict and serious that Eddie can only obey.

"Your dad was here earlier."

Those few words are enough to tell Eddie exactly what happened. He immediately feels sick to his stomach. He wants to cover his ears, or walk out of the trailer and never come back. But instead, he keeps sitting, frozen in his chair, and listens to what Wayne tells him.

"Sasha is his daughter. He had this girlfriend, Melody, 'bout a year ago. She's much younger than him, is all I know 'bout her. I think they were kinda serious at the time. But Clyde went and messed it up, of course. Cheated on her. She dumped him. Then showed up again a few weeks later all sobered up and told him she was pregnant. Far as I know, things went okay for a while after that. But she caved right after she gave birth. It took a toll on her, Clyde said. So she needed the drugs again. He left her; he didn't see a way to help her and he was worried 'bout Sasha's safety. So he took Sasha with him and brought her to me. Said he couldn't take care of a baby and that was that."

It is a story eerily similar to what Wayne told Eddie about his own early years, whenever he'd ask him questions about his parents.

Eddie looks at the tiny human in Wayne's arms. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is just slightly agape. She's wrapped in a blanket that has a soft shade of pink, with tiny elephants printed across it.

"He never learns, does he?" Eddie remarks with a sigh.

"He doesn't," Wayne affirms in a soft voice, shaking his head. "But you know what, if these are the consequences of his actions..." He first looks up at Eddie, then down at the baby in his lap again. "I can't even be too mad at him for it."

"Jesus Christ, what a mess."

"Don't think too badly of him, Ed," Wayne says. "He wanted to help them. Both of 'em. But he didn't know how. He did what he thought was gonna be best for Sasha. Just like he did with you. He ain't evil. Just a coward who makes bad decisions."

Eddie swallows thickly.

"We'll make it work," Wayne says with certainty in his voice. "It'll be tight, but we'll survive. We did it before, we can do it again."

Eddie nods.

"You wanna hold her?"

He shifts uneasily. She seems so fragile. He doesn't know a single thing about babies; he is his father's son, after all, not Wayne's, no matter how much he wishes he were.

"C'mon, Ed, she's your sister."

It's only now that Eddie notices how well it fits, Wayne with a baby in his arms. Like he was made to be a father. Like Sasha belongs there. There aren't any pictures of Eddie as a baby, as far as he knows, but he imagines it must've looked somewhat like this scene: the exact same couch, a different blanket, and a younger version of Wayne. One with less wrinkles and more hair; less worn-out by the sorrows Eddie has given him over the years. It's simple for Wayne, in a way it isn't for Eddie's father, and in a way that Eddie fears it won't be for him. To hold her gently and let her sleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat. To sit with her quietly and do nothing else. To give love and patience without expecting anything in return.

Eddie rises from his chair and sits down next to Wayne on the couch. He utters a shaky breath, trying not to show his nerves, and wipes his sweaty hands over his jeans before holding out his arms.

“Just like that,” says Wayne softly while he places Sasha in Eddie's arms.

She's warm and has that specific newborn baby scent clinging around her. She's heavier than Eddie expected. She stirs a little bit and makes a tiny sound, but then she continues her peaceful sleep. He studies her: her closed eyes, her tiny nose, the way her head rolls around helplessly if he doesn't support her steadily enough; the hand that's hanging out of the blanket, with minuscule but fully developed fingers that grab around nothing. He listens to the steady sound of her breathing and imagines the tiny lungs inside her body working on pure instinct to keep her alive. His sister.

He looks up and finds Wayne staring at the two of them with tears in his eyes. He only catches Eddie's gaze for a fraction of a second, then he looks away, to the window on his right side.

“You're wrong, you know,” Eddie says.

Wayne turns his head back to him.

“Bout what?”

“She isn't his. Neither am I.” He looks up from the girl in his hands to meet Wayne's eyes. “We're both yours. He didn't do jackshit for us, just dropped us here with you and ran away. You're the one who raised me, Uncle Wayne, and that makes me yours way more than his. And Sasha? We're both gonna be here for her, every step of the way. We're gonna change her diapers and feed her milk - I don't really know anything else about babies, but we're gonna do all of that, together. We're gonna see her grow up and become a person. She's ours.”

Wayne produces a noise that sounds somewhat like a choked-off sob. He puts an arm around Eddie and drags him closer towards him. He doesn't say anything, but Eddie didn't expect him to. He understands.

#wayne munson was in dire need of an accidental baby acquisition trope okay #i said so #i know we all love steve accidentally becoming a parent to a baby half sibling but #consider this please #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #eddie munson #wayne munson #stranger things #fruity ficlet

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worldlxvlys · 1 month

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i NEED a wedding day typa thing with matt where hes just stressing and his vows are cuter than anything and he admires u while ur walking down the aisle that typa shit

long enough

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: noneeeee

a/n: hope you likeee <33

don’t cry. don’t cry, don’t cry.

i took a deep breath as i stared at the doors, waiting for her to come through them.

i’ve waited for this day for so long, and now that it was actually happening it felt surreal.

“please stand”

as i watched everyone collectively stand up i felt a rush of nerves take over me.

this was really happening.

i wasn’t in my 9th grade science class, watching her expertly mix chemicals together, day dreaming about marrying her.

we weren’t studying for our math test together, her explaining how to solve the problem while i zoned out, imagining how amazing she would be at planning our wedding.

i wasn’t watching her walk down the stairs on prom night, finally seeing which dress she chose, thinking about what it’d be like to see her in her wedding dress for the first time.

now, i was living it.

every minute i spent longing for her, all of the pain i went through waiting for her, it all led up to this exact moment.

chris, most likely picking up on my nerves, patted my shoulder lightly from his spot beside me.

i momentarily glanced over to him, and he gave me a slight nod.

nick, who was on the other side of him, gave me a quick thumbs up.

i took another deep breath, attempting to relax, as i watched the doors in anticipation.

the moment they opened up, i lost it.

i let out a quick breath, tears welling in my eyes when i saw her standing there.

i held my breath for a second while i took in her dress. it was perfect for her.

the white seemed to make her glow, only adding to her natural beauty.

the top of the dress was lined with intricate designs, with a touch of lace to top it off.

the straps were thin, but not too thin, a detail of the dress she was adamant about being perfect.

the bottom of the dress was long, but not long enough where she had to worry about it dragging behind her too much.

the dress had a small slit going up her leg. it wasn’t anything too crazy, just long enough for me to see the lace garter decorating her thigh, peeking through when she walked.

it was unlikely that anyone else even saw it, however, i was purposefully looking for it.

the dress just screamed her. it was simple, yet so unique. the extravagance wasn’t in the dress itself, but in the details.

it was clear that she put an abundance of time and thought into picking out the dress, and it paid off.

“oh my god” i whispered under my breath, attempting to blink back my tears.

READER’S POV

“take a breath” mary lou spoke as she rubbed my back gently.

i was currently staring at the doors in anticipation, my hands shaking lightly.

i did as she said, inhaling through my nose and out of my mouth.

“i’ll be next you the whole time, sweetheart” she smiled at me.

my parents and i were on less than optimal terms, as they liked to call it.

at least, that’s what they said when people asked about it.

they were never there for me, but mary lou and jimmy were. i never even had to ask her to be the one to walk me down the aisle, we both always knew it would be her.

“i’m so grateful for you” i told her, my voice wavering slightly.

she pulled me into a hug, giving me a slight squeeze.

“good, cause you’re stuck with me” she chuckled.

after waiting a few more minutes, the doors finally opened.

everyone’s head turned to me, and my eyes widened slightly under the pressure of so many people’s gaze.

“you’re ok” she whispered to me, knowing how i would react.

my eyes found matt’s across the aisle, and my focus on everyone else completely faded away.

tears were streaming down his face as he stared at me in awe.

i took in his appearance, and almost melted right there.

he looked so good.

his suit was crisp, no doubt the result of him making sure it was hanging at all times. knowing him, he probably never even took it out of the protective bag, wanting it to stay wrinkle-free.

his tie was tied perfectly, the result of him watching youtube videos repeatedly, needing to master the skill. (mary lou ended up having to teach him how to do it over facetime.)

every piece of his tuxedo matched perfectly, his meticulous planning shining through.

the tux fit him better than i ever could have imagined.

he wore a few rings, knowing how much i loved them on his hands. i was excited for one ring in particular, though.

as mary lou guided me down the aisle, i noticed matt’s gaze run up and down my body, stopping at the garter that i let him pick out.

i smiled lightly at that, watching as he met my eyes again.

once we got to the end of the aisle, we stopped directly in front of matt.

“hi baby” i whispered to him, watching as he began to laugh lightly.

his smile grew even wider as mary lou, handed him a few tissues for his tears.

we both laughed lightly at this, “where did you get that?” i asked. everyone around us laughed at that.

“no, i’m serious. where did that come from?” i asked, confused.

we were met with more laughter, my question left unanswered.

she gave us both a kiss to the cheek, before placing my hand in his.

i felt tears of my own start to fall at the gesture.

“you may now be seated” everyone sat down at the request.

“family and friends, thank you all for coming today to share in this wonderful occasion. today we are here together to unite matt and y/n in marriage”

“and now for the vows” the officiator spoke. matt decided he wanted to go first.

“ok, hi” he breathed out, a large grin spreading on his face. “y/n, i have spent such a long time dreaming about this day. for so long, i would tell chris and nick that i was gonna marry you one day. but then you started chasing after other guys and you seemed so unattainable all of a sudden. but we’re finally here, we’re getting married” he whispered excitedly, as though he couldn’t believe it, “and there’s no one else that i’d rather be with. i love how deeply you care about the things that are important to you, like this. i’m pretty sure i’ve seen everything in this room on your pinterest board at some point” the room filled with chuckles, “ you’ve put so much love and time into this and i’m so grateful to have found someone who cares about this, who cares about me so much. and seeing you walk down that aisle with my mom, i-” his voice broke as his lip began to quiver slightly.

i sniffled softly, blinking rapidly as more tears fell from my eyes.

“you mean everything to me, and i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you” he finished.

when the officiator gestured to me, i began my vows.

“ geez, that was really good” i breathed out, making everyone laugh.

“ok” i spoke as i took a deep breath, “matt, i have loved you for so long. i can’t even pinpoint when, we were so young. but, i always thought that i was just gonna be in the crowd, watching you do this with someone else. i never imagined, for a second, that you felt the same. and growing up, your mom would always tell me that when we got married, she’d be the one to hand me off to you. and i never believed that i would actually get to experience that”

“i love you more than words can describe, and i’m so happy to be able to call you my husband. i’m so grateful to be marrying my best friend, because i couldn’t imagine life without you, and now i never have to. thank you for accepting me, thank you for loving me. just- thank you” i finished.

“do you matthew sturniolo, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

“of course i do” he spoke, staring at me.

“and do you y/n , take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?

“i do”

we were then given our rings to exchange.

as i slid the ring on matt’s finger, i spoke “with this ring, i thee wed and pledge you my love now and forever”

matt did the same with my ring, “with this ring, i thee wed and pledge you my love now and forever”

“by the authority vested in me by the state of massachusetts , i now pronounce you husband and wife!”

“you may now-” he didn’t even finish the sentence before matt wrapped his arms around my waist, placing his lips against mine in a passionate kiss.

the room was filled with cheers and applause as our lips moved against each others for a few seconds, before pulling away.

he pulled me into a hug, kissing my forehead. “you could’ve let the man finish first” i spoke, teasingly.

“i’ve waited long enough”

🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @charlotteblogs777 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @leah-loves-lilies @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07

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martyrlamb · 6 months

Text

✶ when the clock strikes / leon kennedy

pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader

summary: you’re starting to think a certain agent might be faking his injuries to see you.

tags: sfw, pure fluff, a bit of angst as a treat, love at first sight basically, silly workplace love story, nurse!reader, 1 year post re4r!leon, no use of y/n, extremely mildly passively suggestive, leon takes his shirt off twice (woohoo!), kissing, swearing, leon is awkward as hell, you are too though so it’s okay, description of bruises, cuts and a muscle knot (not detailed), medical talk, slight mention of gore and blood, reader has a backstory, reader has a mother.

note: i blinked and suddenly there were 8k words in my doc idek how that happened. im actually so nervous to post because this is my first one shot ever!! my cherry has been popped… but also apologies if things are kind of all over the place bc im still trying to get the swing of it all. trying to write in the present tense was like being beat over the head repeatedly so im sure theres many grammatical mistakes in that department

word count: 8.5k (got possessed sorry)

Everyone thought you were crazy when you accepted the offer.

It is crazy—but you aren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into a long time ago as a nurse; people get hurt, and then you save them. Clockwork.

Years ago, you started studying to be a nurse in some middle of nowhere midwestern school. You remembered the rolling hills and the ungodly heavy blankets of snow that fell during the winter months, the fallen leaves that the snow covered. It was all so peaceful for a while… until the outbreak.

You never saw it coming, no one did, really. At least, you hope no one predicted the atrocities that were about to be witnessed by thousands of innocents without warning.

Gnashing teeth and hands with dried blood that streaked down arms like veins plagued the memory of that point in your life. It was surreal to believe that you got up that morning and made your breakfast like any other day, you slid your shoes on and grabbed your keys, and then your foot hit the front porch and the trajectory of your life changed permanently.

The virus started as a woman with red-ringed eyes and pallid skin that reflected off of the blinding overhead lights—she looked visibly ill. That’s all that mattered at the time. You were actually the one who situated her and her husband in their room, he smiled at you and thanked you for your time and you scribbled down notes before hanging the clipboard and leaving the room for the doctor. The screeching horror music plays when you get to this part of the memory.

A type of calm before the storm. You hold your breath every time.

A few hours later people started screaming, and someone—something ran out of that room and wrenched its grip on the first person it saw. Blue scrubs dyed a nasty crimson, like crushed raspberries on cloth. The next part is a blur of running, watching your coworkers die, and using your medical expertise to help anyone who needed it. People were hurt. You saved them.

Like you said, clockwork. You try not to think about it too hard.

By the time help came, you had cramped a large handful of survivors—albeit, injured survivors—into a small house that was a mile or two from the hospital. Your quick thinking protected many people that day, and your skills were recognized.

A week prior, you were a simple nursing student who was lucky enough to be placed in a hospital, and by the next Sunday, you were being offered a position as a medic with the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. You finished your schooling, you got your specialized training, and now you’re on your way to your first assignment out of the country.

So, granted, maybe you are a little crazy for accepting such a prestigious and dangerous position after your humble beginnings. Your mother never ceases to remind you of this, with what little information you were allowed to tell her.

Iceland? she said, pulling her lips into a line. Are you crazy?

You begin to think that you are now that you stand in front of the base, arms tucked around yourself and teeth chattering as a sergeant points you around like one of his troops. Between the hustle and bustle of agents hurrying around and the amount of civilians sitting beneath the large, brown medical tent, you understand why they needed all the help they could get.

Things in Iceland were bad apparently; Umbrella thought the remote location would protect what little was left of them, and their research, from being exposed. Unfortunately for them, (and fortunately for everyone else) the AUPIT caught wind of what was happening and vowed to put a stop to it. You, freshly out of training, were sent to help with the sudden influx of displaced non-combatants and wounded agents.

Within the hour of the helicopter landing, you settle in and pull your cold weather scrubs on.

There aren’t many other nurses—only two—and neither of them seem to be very fond of you. The head nurse is older and straight-laced, following procedure, not mingling with you unless she has to. You don’t think you’re ever going to be put on a shift with the other nurse, but they spare you a few ireful glances. It’s like they could smell the fresh blood, and the scent made them turn their noses.

Nonetheless, you weren’t there to socialize, so you rolled up your sleeves and did your job, trying to ignore the passive aggressive looks being thrown at you from left and right. This kind of mutual ignorance worked for about three days, until you were placed on the night shift… every single night.

Before you came along, it was determined that the night shift could be manned by one person, as injured civilians were sent to the safehouses by nightfall and nearly all of the agents were either out on work or taking a much needed rest. There was no reason for both nurses to be awake when one could conserve their energy and rest while the other worked. So, most nights you spent alone, sitting by the fire in the back of the tent as you waited for the sun to come up.

One of those nights crept up on you again. You bounce your foot against the ground until your ankle aches, sitting in a lawn chair next to the fire with a wool blanket draped over your shoulders. Nothing chirps in the distance like the environment you’re used to, the only noises that float through the air are the wind rustling bare-armed bushes and your own breathing. There was a rip in the tent whistling, too, but you’d be damned if you let the incessant noise drive you insane. You were scared of the eerie silence for the first few days, but that quickly became replaced by the complete boredom that followed it.

You blow a raspberry as you spin a pen in your ungloved hand, fingers numb and stretched stiff with cold. I’ve ought to ask someone for a book, you thought to yourself, or a new job. You immediately push the second contemplation out of your head like it was something dirty and sat up a little straighter; your annoyance made sense, but this is what you wanted to do with your life. You want to help people in need.

Not that there were many people around.

In the distance, like divine intervention, you hear the crackle of wheels against snow, and a black mini-van rolls to a stop in front of the tent. A scuffle inside ensues for a moment, then the doors open and a man comes hobbling into the shelter with his arm over another man’s shoulder.

You nearly fall out of your seat with how fast you stand up and stride over to the men, assisting the injured one onto a cot.

“What happened?” you ask, pushing a cart of equipment to his bedside.

The uninjured one remarks from beside you, “Some snow gave way and he went down this hill with some pretty nasty bushes at the bottom.” His voice is quick and clicky. He looks young.

Clearly, they’re two agents, judging by the leather holsters strapped around their waists and shoulders. You purse your lips and place a lantern on the cart, gently inspecting the injured agent. There’s thorns lodged along the entirety of his left side, looking a bit like a child’s crude attempt at art with toothpicks and styrofoam.

He grunts when you gently lift his arm to check underneath, and you mutter an apology before you turn to the other agent. “I can take this from here.”

The agent nods and spins on his heel, disappearing into the darkness once he stepped out into the open air.

You turn your attention towards the man in front of you and pull on a pair of gloves, the latex makes a sharp snapping noise when you let go. His intense gaze follows your movements with great intrigue—or suspicion… you couldn’t really tell. You pick up a pair of tweezers and set them on the cart. You also finally got a good look at the wounded agent.

Blue eyes that strike down what little defenses you have and brows that spend their time permanently creased, almost erasing the space between them while he inspects you. His ability to make you feel thoroughly grilled with a simple fixated stare would have made you squirm years prior, but now you merely stare back with your eyebrows lifted. The blonde—possibly light brown haired, the darkness didn’t give much way in the form of colour—man averts his eyes first, as if he is caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive, but that’s not your focus right now.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, flicking on a flashlight to check his pupils. Healthy, good. He squints at you through the beam.

“Like I fell into a thorn bush.”

Looks like someone feels funny. You deadpan at him, unamused with the sarcasm while you try to help. Your expression beckons a better answer and he backpedals.

The man’s head bobs subtly, like a scale in his mind is weighing his thoughts on either side, and then he says, “I’m just fine.”

“Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” you reply, blowing out a not-so-inconspicuous huff of annoyed air that swirls above you in the cold. The agent raises his brow at your reaction but doesn’t seem too keen on speaking on it. “I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, but it’s going to be a lot of poking and prodding.”

He lets out another grunt that could have possibly been an Mhm… but you aren’t sure. You hold the tweezers between your fingers and begin to pluck them out, placing them on the metal pan on your cart. Clink, clink, clink. They fall from the tweezers with tiny noises.

To your surprise, he doesn’t writhe or make much noise, only occasional grunts and sighs and Shit’s under his breath when you pull at particularly deep thorns lodged in his arm.

Even for an agent, his arms are an impressive size, which means a lot more surface area to extract from. Not that you really mind, as you would have helped him either way, but surely you would feel differently if you were in his shoes.

However, the silence is… awkward; sitting there with your face inches from his huge arms—he could definitely feel your breath fan across the surface with how his skin dances with warmth and goosebumps and you do not want the attractive agent to focus on that. So, you break it with a question.

“You weren’t wearing a jacket?” A valid query, all things considered.

He blinks at you like it was obvious. “It came off.”

“Oh,” is all you say until you extract the last thorn from his arm and begin to slide the leather shoulder holster off of him. “I just need to take this off.”

He frowns slightly, and you realize his brows had been furrowed this whole time because that was all his face seemed to know how to do. When his expression changes, you stop.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Taking it off so I can look under your sleeve.”

“Why?”

“You could’ve pulled something and I need to bandage you,” you pause. “Is that okay?”

Maybe you wrongly assumed that he had done this a million times. Don’t get you wrong, you know how resilient agents had to be and how good they were at their jobs, so it isn’t like you thought he got hurt often… But with a short glance into his eyes, you could tell he’s a hardened delegate with years of experience under his belt. Wasn’t he bound to need help occasionally?

The man gives you a slight nod and shrugs off the holster; it falls to the bed with a soft thud from the weight of the knife tucked into the leather.

His muscles tense under your fingers when you roll the black sleeve over his shoulder. The feathered, pale edge of a bullet scar peeks out from beneath the dark clothing and it makes you wonder how he managed to get it. A mission? Probably. It looks old. You’ve seen scars of all kinds at that point, and each of them held a story that ended in pierced flesh.

They remind you that they will never not be where they came from—your own scars will never not be where they came from. You shake the thought out like a stubborn rock in your shoe.

“Lucky you, it doesn’t look like you pulled anything in your shoulder,” you comment under your breath.

“If this is luck, I’d like to see what happens when I get unlucky.” For the first time, there’s humor in his tone—so faint you nearly miss it, but it makes you chuckle. When he isn’t huffing out responses, his voice almost sounds kind.

You rotate his shoulder slowly and inspect the length of his side, finding fewer thorns than the amount anchored in his arm. Still, your lips press into a line, pitying the fact that his bare skin will be exposed to the frigid, below-freezing air so you could remove them.

“Well, you should’ve knocked on wood,” you reply, “I’ll need you to take your shirt off so I can get the rest of the thorns out and check your ribs.”

Silently, the man hikes his shirt up and over his ribs for you, snaking his arm out of his sleeve and then laying on his side.

As he comes down, stretching, he groans. You see his muscles tense under his skin when he inhales, the dips and divots of his torso flex involuntarily when the squall of air nips at his newly exposed skin. The surface holds blossoms of red and deep purple that litter themselves across his ribs like splotches of messy watercolor dripped onto paper. Scarlet scratches bleed pebbles that drip onto the fabric of the cot.

You suck in through your teeth as you inspect the area. Even without the damage from the thorns, it doesn’t look good.

“Not good?” the agent questions as if he could read your mind. From over his shoulder, he turna his head to look at you.

“Not good. You bruised your ribs, I’d be surprised if one of them wasn’t broken.”

“I didn’t hear a crack.”

“It should be monitored for a day or two, at the very least.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“Look, I understand—“

“I’ll be fine.”

You sigh softly and remove one of your gloves to rub your face in exasperation. Unfortunately, this wasn’t your first rodeo with stubborn patients, so you slide on another glove and begin to pluck at the thorns in his torso. “You won’t be doing much work if you permanently damage them.”

He twists his head away from you again and grunts softly, muttering a short, “Okay.”

How articulate. You guess he doesn’t get paid to talk to people.

“Okay? As in…?”

“As in, fine,” he replies, then pauses for a moment as if to prove a point. “But I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You laugh at this, then stifle it into your elbow so he didn’t think you were laughing at him. He still rolls over a little to look at you, confusion laces his eyes that dart around as they go from your face to the rows of empty cots behind you. Busy? You begin to laugh again.

He can’t be serious, you think as you fan your face. You let your laughter dissipate like it was being dissolved into water. “Sorry… no, you’re right,” you snort, “I was drowning in work before you arrived, agent.”

“I’m sure,” he chirps back, the ghost of a smile haunts his lips.

“I think I can squeeze you in, though. Might have to clear some of my schedule, but… I’ll make it work.”

The pleased look that graces your face is involuntary. You find it endearing how worried he is about becoming too much extra work for you and the other nurses, despite the fact that there isn’t any reason to gather that he would and—believe it or not—it’s your job.

The agent lets out an amused breath through his nose. “Should I be flattered?”

“Oh, of course.”

You place the last of the thorns onto the metal pan and tend to his wounds with gauze and bandages and nimble fingers that have done this hundreds of times before. Sometime along the way his body relaxed—just a little—and you think he fell asleep until he sits up like a puppet that had his strings yanked and puts his shirt on properly.

The sudden movement makes you blink, and he stares at you for a long pause filled with dead air and an expectant look in his eyes. That damn rip in the tent whistles.

Finally, his eyes flicker down to your badge, then back to your face. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I started here not too long ago,” you inform him honestly, a little embarrassed to admit your newbie title to a seasoned employee of the organization.

He doesn’t say anything else, so you take the reins.

“Well, I think we’re set,” you say, rolling the latex gloves off of your hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Agent…”

You never asked him his name?

“Leon Kennedy,” the agent, now with the name Leon Kennedy pinned to his face, finishes for you.

His name twirls around your head and makes you dizzy to think about. I should have known, you think to yourself once he bids you farewell to report to his superiors.

From what little time you spent at the base prior to meeting Leon, you had heard whispers during dinner drift from mouth to ear of the elusive agent. That he was a man of few words (immense understatement, you consider it more socially awkward, but true); that he had half of the base swooning every time he walked by (you don’t want to comment on this); and that he was immensely attractive (that is also true). You have to admit… you see why he had such an air of intrigue around him. To be so quiet after such successes he’s accomplished—people were on the edge of their seats trying to figure him out.

You also had to admit that you weren’t immune to it either.

During your meals and breaks you found yourself playing Where’s Waldo? with Leon, attempting to catch glimpses of him in his natural state to confirm or deny these claims. Which was impressively difficult for absolutely no reason other than that he did it for his own benefit… the motive for this was lost, and still is, on you.

The few times you did spot him, he had the same clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows. He never stayed in the same place for very long and frequently you only spotted him—or rather, his broad shoulders and white-knuckled fists as they turned corners and disappeared to do whatever he did all day. Important agent things.

Regarding your coworkers… it hadn’t improved much, either. The head nurse, who you later learned was named Winona, loosened up on you a bit—which was practically nothing when both she and the other nurse had been so cold to begin with. However, your determination to help those around you seemed to impress her… most days.

(Peeks of Leon’s ashy blonde hair stolen from cracks in the tent. His fur-lined coat hangs off of his sizable frame, enveloping his arms in the thick fabric—it makes them look even bigger. Not that you care, per say, but—

“You aren’t getting paid to stalk agents,” Winona jeers, jolting you back to Earth from your subject of stolen attention. You swear she smiles at you wryly. “Should’ve tried for one of their jobs if you wanted to do that.”

She turns on her heel and goes over to a trio of injured civilians with her cart, the knot of hair tied taut at the base of her neck stares you in the face. You’re left hot faced and embarrassed for the entirety of the next check-up with your patient.)

The endless night shifts never seem to cease rolling in and you’re afraid it’s begun to catch up on you. By the end of breakfast, when you could finally drag your corpse-like body to your quarters and into your bed, your head drooped comically into your bowl of oatmeal and some of the newer agents had a blast laughing at you. Whatever, assholes.

(You were deeply embarrassed.)

So, you opted for allowing a short nap in here and there during your shift—ten minutes at most—whenever your eyelids began to feel itchy and weighted and you couldn’t help but close them. You really couldn’t. Being sat by the fire with a hot drink made you so warm and the sounds of blowing wind lulled you to sleep in the darkness under the moon.

Truly, a terrible work performance from you, but no one was around to see and surely you’d be awoken by even a hint of an emergency.

Tonight, you count sheep with your wool blanket tucked up to your chin and your head lolls against your shoulder like it’s about to fall off its hinges. One, two, three. They mock you as they hop into their pasture and curl up into white, fluffy spheres, falling asleep within the warmth of their home.

From a distance, your ears almost register the sound of footsteps that approach the tent, crushing the crunchy top layer of snow under their feet as they stop in the entrance. It isn’t enough to completely wake you until they clear their throat and say, “Hello?”

Your eyes snap open and you turn your head so fast you think it might go flying across the room. Really smooth of you, considering Leon is the one to get your attention. By the smug look on his face and slight chuckle that wracks his frame, you know he isn’t fooled with your act awake performance.

He stands there, towering and rigid, unlike the night you first met him, with his palm outstretched flat like he’s trying to show the world something.

“Oh, hey, what do you need?” you reply quickly, standing from your chair as you let your blanket fall off of you.

Leon glances at his hand and then at you. “I, uh, got a papercut.”

“A paper cut,” you repeat, just to make sure you heard him right.

“Yeah.”

You stare at him for a moment, mouth agape as his words register as something he was actually saying to you.

“Well, get comfortable, then. I’ll patch you up.”

In reality, you’re terribly confused about a special forces agent needing first aid for a paper cut, but how could you complain? He needs help and you’re there to offer it.

The blonde sits on a cot near the fire—not before picking up your blanket from the ground and placing it back on the chair, though—and you situate yourself on a stool facing him.

You take Leon’s hand in yours gently and inspect the wound. It’s fairly shallow, but placed in the center of the webbed skin between his index finger and thumb. Tough spot. When your digits graze his rough knuckles he inhales sharply and you glance at him due to the sudden motion.

He doesn’t expect a reaction from you because he pauses for a second then asks, “You think I’ll live?”

“I dunno,” you answer, sucking your teeth. “Could be a close call.”

“Yeesh.”

“I know. My condolences.”

“For myself?”

“Uh-huh.” You turn his hand over so his palm faced the sky. “This’ll sting.”

When you disinfect the injury, Leon’s face twitches into itself but he keeps quiet, opting to focus his gaze on your face while you patch him up. You try not to shift under the intensity.

“What made you want to do this?” he queries, his voice cuts through the silence and startles you a bit. Leon looks pleased with himself and you roll your eyes.

“You’ll laugh.”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s corny.”

Admittedly, it was—the original story as to why you wanted to be a nurse. You’ve had people laugh at it before and you mostly don’t want to repeat history with someone you find rather charming, but something in Leon’s face softens and he shakes his head briefly.

“Try me,” he challenges.

“Oh, fine.” Like there was a fight put up when you relent, smoothing a bandaid over his cut. “You know those things you’d fill out as a kid? Where it’s like, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Leon nods.

“Every single time, I would write superhero,” you laugh sourly because you got used to other people laughing when you said this, but he listens as if you’re the only sound he’s ever heard. “I’d draw myself with a little cape and all that. Then at a certain age the teachers start telling you, pick a real job, pick something that exists. And, I dunno, I thought: there are real superheroes. They save people every day because they want to.”

“I mean, I always knew I didn’t have all the right assets to be the one rescuing people from burning buildings and punching the bad guys. I wanted to help people when they couldn’t help themselves, you know? I can't carry the weight of the situation—it’s just not in my nature—but I can carry them. That’s why I started doing this, I guess.”

The look he gives you when you finish speaking is indescribable. He gazes deeply into your face like he’s trying to find a new feature he missed the first time. Something akin to pulling apart your mind with his eyes as if it’s clay made for the shaping and a load of a melancholy that’s too heavy for him; like he’s asking you, how do I carry it? Tell me how to carry something like that.

Your hand still lingers in his, over the bandaid you placed on him; you slide yours so the curves of your thumbs interlock and you grip the hilt of his palm. A hidden embrace.

Leon’s eyes dart toward your hands and he makes no effort to remove you from his grasp, his fingers relax against your wrist. He feels your heartbeat. You feel his. When he looks up again, all he sees are your eyes.

You don’t know why you went on that anecdote in the first place, not really. Only that you were finished patching him up and wanted—needed—him to linger for a bit longer.

“What about you?” you ask, voice hushed close to nothing.

“I wanted to help people, too.” He sounds uncharacteristic—sheepish? “That’s it… I can’t follow up with something as articulate as you.”

“It matters just as much even if you can’t express it,” you assure him, your head tilts.

Leon clears his throat and nods, slipping his hand from yours and looking anywhere that isn’t you. You created a shadow in front of his face, back facing the fire, but you can see the subtle dark tinge of his cheeks when he avoids your eyes. He chooses to look at his feet. There he goes, being endearing again, you think.

The harsh edges of his face are lit up with an orange glow, darkness shoots somewhere in between in a soft gradient, and he looks positively ethereal. If you reached out and cupped his face, you know it would be warm to the touch like laundry right out of the dryer. It makes him look all the more delicate and this feels more natural than the pointed looks and pinched expressions he usually wears.

You look back down at his hands. You’re trying to memorize the way they felt against yours (coarse and hot to the touch) and you get the picture of how hopeless you are—even an idiot could see you have a crush on him.

That doesn’t stop you from protecting your pride and you keep it to yourself. You stand up to put the disinfectant supplies and box of bandaids away without a word.

Leon stares at his hand like it’s missing a piece.

You have your head buried too deep into the cabinet to think much about that. Screaming at yourself was an understatement for what you’re doing in your head… a better description would be begging the floor to swallow you entirely with one gulp.

Surely, Leon has someone at home. He’s an attractive, intelligent man with an arguably stable job that pays him oodles more than he would ever need; not to mention how well-built he is, but again, for what seems like the millionth time you push this thought to the back of your mind. You could not focus on that.

“Are you okay?” his voice carries from the cot.

You take a moment’s breather and shut the cabinet door. “I’m good. How are your ribs?”

“They’re good.” Leon pauses, then adds. “Thanks.”

The shake of your head comes faster than your words; muscle memory. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“You do a good job.”

“I’m just a medic.”

“A good one.”

As you utter your gratitude for his comment, you hope he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your face from so far away. You weren’t one to get shy from such simple words, but you find your eyes glued to your boots because of his gentle bonniness. Damn you, you curse at him in your head—it held no weight.

The blonde stands from the cot and walks over to you. He bends slightly to catch your eyes in his. “I have to go now, but... yeah. Thank you.”

“Of course, Agent Kennedy.”

“Don’t start using formalities now,” he half-laughs, half-breathes. His face contorts when he stretches back, and his hand came up to massage his right shoulder—you even go to comment on this movement, being a medic and all, but he beats you to it with a smirk. “Stick with Leon.”

And then, in a few strides, he’s gone as fast as he came.

Your entire body deflates when you let out a guttural sigh. How come every time you watched his back, you were left reeling?

Unfortunately for you, that blasted man had ingrained himself into your head, sitting pretty in your thoughts as snug as a bug in a rug while you tried to do your job, or attempted to focus on anything other than your feelings for him. On the contrary, he returned to clearing out Umbrella facilities for the time being, which meant he was out of the base for days, or even weeks, considering he was one of, if not, the best agent they had. This saved you from the embarrassment of being caught trying to catch glances of him from inside the tent or during meals.

This, however, did not stop you from daydreaming when work got slow.

You wondered how someone like Leon behaved domestically, if he was completely different outside of the AUPIT, or if he was still just the sweet, reserved man who needed your aid often. Did he have any pets? What music did he listen to? You guess you’d have to ask him later, but you imagined that the pieces would fall into place and suit him. They’d be so perfectly Leon that when he told you, you would think to yourself, huh, why didn’t I think of that?

The amount of daydreaming you did was not lost on Winona, and occasionally she snapped her fingers in front of your face and grumbled under her breath, “I’ll kill that boy.” With no real threat to her tone.

Please, you can’t help it. He has arms with the muscle definition of a god and he told you-you were a good medic; you were a goner before you even realized it.

On the other hand, your family never let up with their pleas for you to return home, despite the fact that it simply wasn’t possible unless you had a very good reason for it. Which you didn’t, and you didn’t want to—people just didn’t get it through their heads that, yes, your job was difficult, and yes, patients got on your nerves sometimes, but no, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. This meant more to you than anything else you could fathom. You knew the fear these people felt first-hand, and you knew they needed a saving grace; just like you had.

(“Just come home,” your mother coos into the phone, her voice static-y and chopped from the poor signal. You could imagine her face right now, all worried and exhausted like you’re a child balancing on a wet playground. “There’s a hospital not too far from here… I’m sure they’d take you.

You promptly spend the next hour explaining to her that it isn’t that simple, even if you wanted to, and you remind her every few minutes that you aren’t going to leave, either. You’re happy, all things considered; which is why you make the executive decision to leave out all of the bad parts of your work so far.)

As for the efforts against Umbrella, you hear whispers of successes during dinners and fewer agents appeared at the medical tent’s door in need of assistance than when you arrived. So, you think things are going rather well for your organization. Less tired eyes and solemn faces; the fight wasn’t over, but everyone could rest a little easier with every night that passed.

And yet, those damned night shifts. You swear Winona and that other medic were scheming against you for no reason other than pure spite, on the basis of simply because they didn’t feel like doing it. It has to be funny to them by now, seeing you half-asleep at breakfast and looking all mussed at dinner because you woke up ten minutes prior. You let them laugh all they wanted because frankly, you began to enjoy the night shifts. The world went to sleep, and you enjoyed some peace and quiet.

You kick your feet up onto a stool and drape a blanket over your legs, book in hand. The soft sounds of Icelandic pop music crackles out of the radio and floats throughout the tent. You mouth the noises of the songs, unsure of the lyrics, but you’ve heard it so often by now, you could recognize the tune from the first few beats. You scat a few of the instruments, tapping your foot along. You don't notice the figure that stopped in the doorframe.

“Enjoying yourself?” Leon. You shut your book and turn to look at him, embarrassed. “I always feel like I’m coming at a bad time.”

“Never,” you reply with a haste that humbles you further. Worried about his sudden appearance in the medical tent after being gone on agent duties for nearly two weeks, you ask, “Are you okay?”

The corners of his mouth upturn and you barely see a flash of uneven teeth between the slit it creates, cute. This distracts you from how smug his face is. “I think I have a fever.”

“A fever this time?”

“Yep.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Leon.”

A paper cut, then a fever. You begin to think of his inability to soothe his minor maladies as an excuse to visit the tent. Your stomach flutters at the thought, but you have to make sure… just in case he’d fallen ill out there in the cold.

You find the thermometer and placed it in his mouth gingerly. It hangs crooked from the corner and he watches you with a certain keenness that makes you smile. After a few minutes, you check his temperature: 98.7. An amused hum escapes your lips without meaning to.

“Dying?”

“I don’t think you have a fever,” you answer, using the back of your hand to press against his forehead and cheeks. The first cheek is cold, then the left cheek warms under your skin—Leon’s expression falls bashful. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were looking for reasons to come see me.”

It’s his turn to hum in thought. “Maybe.”

“You could just come talk to me.”

“You’re on the clock,” the blonde reminds you, grunting. In a swift movement, his hand presses into the curve of his neck and he rotates his right shoulder, face straining.

You see an opening. “That I am. What was that?”

“What?”

“Your shoulder.”

“I was stretching.”

“Does it hurt?”

Leon grumbles a response under his breath, unimpressed that you might have found something you could actually treat him for. You raise your brows. “I’ll take that as a yes. Let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“Agent Kennedy.”

He pretends not to hear you.

“Leon.”

“Fine,” he gripes like a child being forced to get a shot and maneuvers to lay his stomach flat on the cot, his back faces toward the ceiling. He takes off his brown, fur-lined jacket and discards it onto the next cot over. You get a whiff of musk and cinnamon from the breeze it makes.

The shirt that clings to him left nothing to the imagination—a tight, black compression shirt stretches snugly over his muscles. You spread your fingers like fans to warm them up, then begin to run them over his shoulder and along the meat of his back.

You tsk, full of knots. This man needs a masseuse. You make a mental note to refer him to a good one you knew.

With the issue at hand, though, you find an impressive knot in his shoulder, which is likely the cause of his discomfort.

You huff, your work cut out for you. “There’s a big knot in your shoulder, Leon. How are you living like this?”

“I wake up and roll out of bed.”

“I need to get this out.”

Leon turns his head, his cheek presses to the cot. He gives you a look that says nothing short of, are you serious? You smile as sweetly as you can at him, an attempt to coax him. To your surprise, he averts his gaze fast and relents. The blonde agent sits up and shrugs his shirt off. It’s tossed next to his jacket.

Under the fire light and the dim glow of lanterns that hang in a line down the center of the tent, strings attached to the ceiling, you see the way chills prickle over the surface of his skin. Goosebumps, like rolled carpets being kicked open, unfurl down his arms rapidly and he lays down on his stomach once again.

Your face burns in the dark—you’d be surprised if you aren’t glowing like one of those lanterns from the amount of heat it exudes.

You use a dollop of skin cream to keep the area relaxed and pliable as you work out the knot with your fingers. You push it in the right direction until you got it in a better spot, then you knead it firmly. It crackles within his body.

“Fuck…” he groans in relief, nestling his head into the fabric of the cot as he sighs. “They teach you massages in nursing school?”

“That might be just a learned from life thing,” you state in total honesty. You wipe the excess lotion from your hands on a rag.

Curiously, he peers at you from the corner of his eye. “You have someone back home you do that to?”

A laugh falls from your lips, though your face feels even hotter than before (if that is even possible). “No—not at all.”

Leon lets out a pleasant hum and sit up from the cot. Good, he says without saying it.

He snatches his shirt and tugs it over his head; you pretend to make yourself busy so you have somewhere other to look than at him. You hear him sigh with great reprieve as he rolls his shoulder back and forth, it must’ve felt like a freshly oiled hinge.

He comes up behind you, his shoulder skims the back of your neck when he peers down at what you were doing on the counter. Which is a whole lot of nothing; moving cotton swabs from one container to the other, counting how many rolls of gauze you had left for the hundredth time. Mindless hand ministrations to distract you from the heart that pounds in your chest.

“Is this what you do all night?” he questions, mildly amused.

“Sometimes.”

“Must be glad I showed up.”

“Something like that,” you tease, glancing up at him with a coy smile.

You watch his withstraint break a little inside of him. He inhales sharply, losing the words you said somewhere between your eyes and your lips—he couldn’t focus with your faces so close to each other and neither could you. Leon reaches for the hand that rested on the other side of you and drags you in between him and the counter, twirling you to face him. Then he pauses and appears lost, like he doesn’t know which way is left and right.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to do, you think. You don’t really know either, so you go on about what you do know.

“You should probably use kinesiology tape on your shoulder,” you comment, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of all of your limbs. His eyes don’t leave your lips. You’d be a liar if you say yours left his.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The man’s body heat radiates off of him and it’s magnetic, pulling you closer, away from the bitter cold. Your breath hitches. His hand hovers over the curve of your neck, then it decides to rest on the side of your jaw, thumb pressed against your flushed cheek. You remember the texture of his warm palm, coarse and calloused from years of wear.

You try to memorize every fine line and crease that scuffs your face as he beckons you to close the gap with the slight tilt of his head. I’d make a terrible agent, my resilience is slim to none, you theorize when your body moves before your mind does. His mouth hovers over yours, his breath traces your cupid’s bow. You close the distance enough that your lips graze each other until someone clears their throat from a few feet away.

Winona stands like a judgmental statue, thin brows raise expectantly. You, and Leon, jump away from each other. It rocks the counter with a loud clatter that echoes.

“Agent Kennedy,” she acknowledges him first as a sign of respect. He nods back awkwardly. “You two look like you’re enjoying yourselves.”

Neither of you talk for a moment and you find yourself desperate to create any word that could explain what that was. Leon’s eyes dart around the room.

Finally, something solid comes to your tongue. “I’m sorry.”

And then she laughs in both of your faces. Her hand waves like it’s fanning your words away from getting inhaled. You and Leon glance at each other, brows knit in honest confusion.

“Kids,” she exhales. “Stop distracting my medic, Kennedy.”

Then he speaks, but it sounds more like a nervous cough. “Yes, ma’am.”

Winona shoos him with a gesture of her wrinkled hand and he musters a sheepish, apologetic smile for you as he hurries away from the tent. You don’t make much of an effort to move as you prepare your ego for the chew out it’s about to receive.

“And you. Try to keep the fraternization out of the tent.” With that, she continues past you to search through some files, snickering to herself and shaking her head.

You aren’t about to push your luck. You get to keep your job and ego intact, and that’s enough for you. So, you whisper a quiet, “Yes, ma’am.” And go on with your day.

The encounter with Leon left you feverish and all tingly in every limb whenever it crossed your mind over the following days. You saw him out and about around the base, and during meals he offered you frail waves that faded in a breath.

Truth was, you’re too afraid of rejection to ask him about that night—go figure. Maybe you’re a cliche. Maybe you’re both cliches. Who cares? Well, you do, and you thought the ruffled, pink-tinted expressions on Leon’s face whenever you crossed paths meant that he did, too, but neither of you made a move to approach the other. You questioned if you would rather be told that his only plans for you was a short work fling with no strings attached, or if he felt the connection that you did. A terrible predicament, really, and soon your desire for a straight answer outweighed the fear of hearing something you didn’t like.

When you went to find him in the meal tent, sitting alone in one of the back corners, he wasn’t there. Okay. You waited, then decided to check the nooks and crannies of the base where you knew he hung around, and nothing. Leon vanished into thin air the moment you gathered enough courage to speak to him. Somehow you thought he read your mind and planned for this to happen, just to be able to tease you without being present. But that was simply ridiculous. He had to go to work, just like you had to do yours.

A week went by, then two; no sign of Leon’s reappearance cropped up and you began to worry you wouldn’t get the chance to speak to him at all. The only reminder that soothed you was the fact that you knew the organization was on the home stretch for completely wiping Umbrella’s power in Iceland. This reassured you for many reasons. Mainly, that you’d be able to sleep in your bed again at a proper time that didn’t leave you exhausted; but you also found comfort in the idea of finally getting a word with the blonde agent that clung to your brain like a disease once everything was over.

Of course, you had fleeting thoughts that he died and you’d forever be left wondering about what could have been. But, that was just ridiculous—he’s Leon Kennedy, the agent that saved the president’s daughter from certain death. So, you chalked it up to your anxiety being built up as doubt about the succession of the mission began to be put to an end. That yes, you would all return home soon, and no nothing terrible and tragic would happen just as you were about to win.

Eventually, you all received the verdict of the mission. Success. The sun shone through the clouds brighter that day, in ribbons of gold that elevated all of your senses to something dreamlike. Another catastrophe prevented. More people saved—clockwork. To say you were pleased with the conclusion of your first ever out of country operation would be an understatement; you were ecstatic.

Still, you find yourself fretting over that thing with Leon as you help pack up the equipment in the medical tent.

Winona, who has grown increasingly engrossed in your love life, gives you a knowing look when your lips tug downward and you send a pointed glance toward the entrance of the tent for the tenth time in the last hour. She tsks and shakes her head. It gains your attention.

“Just talk to him,” she insists, shoving a couple boxes of bandaids into the case. She’s unimpressed with your antics and just wants you to get a move on.

You sigh and preen your hair like he’ll walk in at any moment. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Hopeless,” she grumbles in response. “Hopeless. If you won’t do something about it, stop looking at the door like a kicked dog and help me.” Winona retreats further into the tent and you succumb enough to follow her.

You must glower the whole time because she won’t stop sending you dirty looks while she tapes the cardboard boxes with a tape gun. Her movements are threatening. You try to fix your expression when the line of spokes reflects off of the bright horizon outside the tent as it slices the tape.

After the innards of the tent are packed into a dozen or so boxes, you’re the person left to pick them up one by one and drop them off with the rest of the cargo that needs to be shipped. Your back is sore from the sorry excuses of beds you have and your arms ache from hours of cramming things. Kicking snow with each shuffled step, you heave out a lengthy sigh and pause to breathe. There’s a reason I’m not an agent.

“Need a hand?” Leon asks from behind you. You’re wondering how he’s always sneaking up on you.

Still, you nod and can’t help but be relieved. “Please.”

Like it’s filled with air, he takes the box from your hands and cocks a barely-there grin at your awed expression. Smug and content, he marches ahead with you in tow. You don’t really know what to say to him, if anything at all.

You walk alongside him for the first time in the daylight, and you take in his features now that they aren’t muddled in the darkened firelight or blurred by distance. He’s chiseled, sunken cheeks and high cheekbones with that intense look on in his eyes—but there’s something else—boyish, is what you think. Soft jaw. Moles and freckles litter themselves across his face.

Leon is beautiful and you would like to kiss him right now.

He stops at the drop off point, places the box next to the others and turns to you. Suddenly, he looks nervous and you feel some resolve escape your mind. He’s about to ask you something. He opens his mouth, rosy lips parting and you break—you pull him behind a tall stack of boxes and kiss him.

The collar of his jacket is clutched between your fingers in a moment and your lips are on his; the fur tickles your skin. His lips are chapped and cold but you create warmth within him, you could be a summer’s day in this frigid air. His hands come to your waist, then your hips and his fingertips make indents when he holds you tight like this was always supposed to happen. When you part, you’re both breathless.

He searches for his words again, the question he was going to ask. “Would you—dinner? On me.”

You hum in faux thought and peck him on the lips again, then again, and a third time for good measure. He smiles into the last one.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t start that by saying you stubbed your toe and needed my help.”

Leon chuckles. “I thought about it.”

He pulls you in again, tongue grazing your bottom lip. You lean in further, desperate for connection until you both go slipping like baby deer. The thin layer of snow on the ground left everything icy. He tumbles into some supplies and you land on top of him. You’re both laughing into each other’s mouths. You’re both happy.

You chime together, like clockwork.

#leon kennedy #resident evil 4 #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #re4r leon #re4 remake #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy oneshot #fluff #oneshot #resident evil fluff #nurse!reader #nurse!reader x leon kennedy #post re4r

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zairene · 9 months

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more misc. earth 42! miles morales bf headcanons <3

genre: headcanons

a/n: i reallllyyy hate writer’s block. anyways ty guys in the delulus server for helping cure my writers block for this one!! ily guys mwah mwah <3!!

miles has enormous baby fever. no matter how many times you would tell him you guys are both too young and very unfinancially stable, he couldn’t help himself. you both could be just chilling in his room and all of a sudden you would see his face soften and a super high pitched, “awwww…” come out of his mouth. from that one thing alone you already knew what he was about to show you. “y/n! look! isn’t she so cute?” you would shake your head and then he would go into this long rant on how he’d think you both make great parents. “can we at least finish highschool first, miles?” you said. he sighed dramatically and fell into your arms. “yeah, i know. ‘m just excited.” “trust me, i know.”

miles likes to stalk your socials. yes, in a weird way. everytime you post yourself on your feed, he’s always spamming the comments with how beautiful you are and how you’re his, or whenever you post yourself on your story and you get numerous story replies after you post yourself to your favorite song. but afterwards he’s scanning to see anybody else who says anything that’s not just complimenting you. he’s spotted a few guys call you “bae” or something in the comments and he’s always in the replies correcting them as quick as possible. or whenever you post the anonymous links on your story, and someone says that they have a crush on you but they’re scared to say so, or something like that, he’s quick to take your phone and post himself on your story saying how much you loved your boyfriend. that would stop these weirdos from hitting on you, at least that’s what he thinks.

miles’ mom actually loves you. from the first time you met her, she already knew that you were meant for miles when you called her mrs. morales instead of rio. miles’ friends had a habit of calling her that and she would be this close to smacking them across the forehead. they do profusely apologize after but the first impression would always leave a bad taste in her mouth. now, she asks miles to bring you over all the time and she even calls you her second daughter.

miles isn’t a ‘going outside of his house for every date kind of guy.’ he’s more of a wanting to just come to your house and chill in your room while y’all watch and rant about movies. his favorite date with you was when you listened to the new brent faiyaz album, wasteland, while he watched you braid your hair. of course you both go to the movies or the mall every now and then—but he just wanted to be alone with you with no one else around because that’s how it always feels to be with you.

🏷️ TAGLIST :: @dojathascammer @pnkweb @planetlunaa @mypimpademia @megurulvr @dreampurpledreams @chinieh @naijagrl @looking4chanel @pixieplush17 @jogeto @laylasbunbunny @jamies-cumslut @sapphicshav @banqnaz @edgyficuselastica @padfootpottah99 @anikaluv @s-surreality @tourbug @fiannee @sakaur-i

TAGLIST FORM

#[♩] irene’s works.#spiderman atsv #spiderman atsv fanfiction #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman atsv x black reader #spiderman atsv x black fem reader #miles morales angst #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black reader #miles morales x black fem reader #earth 42 miles morales angst #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x black reader #earth 42 miles morales x black fem reader

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pretty-little-mind33 · 19 days

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The Alcott

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: You love James but he loves Lily. It's simple… until it isn't so simple anymore.

Genre: Angst (happy ending)

Warnings: James x Lily mentioned, "unrequited" love, idiots in love, swearing, violence, harassment, crying, arguments, protective!james, jealous!james, stupid!james, Lily isn't a villain (pls i love her!)

You know two things for certain—

You're head over heels in love with James.

He's head over heels in love with Lily.

In the beginning, you saw the entire situation as some messy game of cat & mouse, and you'd been determined to win. You had foolishly been convinced Lily didn't like James in any way. It never seemed like she had any interest in him.

And James? Well, James adored your attention. It very clearly sparked his already enormous ego, and you couldn't deny you liked the thrill of him liking your shameless flirting.

It was fun and harmless while it lasted and it seemed like there was a mutual understanding to both pretend you didn't notice the stolen looks, or shy smiles, the feel of his hand brushing yours in the hallway, the small written notes in class, or the letters he'd sent over the summer…and of course the present he'd left you for your 17th birthday; a small, necklace with expensive tiny rubies.

It felt surreal.

It was surreal because the moment you find out James has been dating Lily since Christmas break you feel sick. "Lily? Lily Evans?" You ask your friends, almost choking on your scrambled eggs.

"Yeah. Apparently, Marls said that Lily kissed James in the Common Room after his practice yesterday," Mary says, immersed in the gossip, "Either way, I heard from Sirius Black that they've been inseparable ever since New Year. He says it's rather annoying."

You hear her muffle a yelp as Pandora kicks her shin from underneath the table. "Oh, I forgot you like James, Y/n," Mary says and sends you a sympathetic smile.

You feel crushed inside but you force a smile, "Me? Oh, please. I can find so much better than Potter. He was just a silly crush," you swat your hand in the air, "I'm already over him," you say.

Pandora doesn't look like she believes you but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she and Mary let you sit in silence and pretend not to know you're unintentionally staring at James and his friends from across the dining hall.

James is laughing and your chest tightens. He seems over the moon as he has his arm around Lily's shoulder and she looks at him with a look you've never seen her wear. She actually looks like she's enjoying his jokes now.

You can't help yourself as you start to compare yourself to Lily. You chew on your nails as you start to remember every insecurity you've ever had and you feel miserable.

You aren't really supposed to feel miserable, you reason, deep down you knew James wasn't yours. He was always hers. He was just waiting for her to claim him and you were a silly distraction.

You pry your eyes away from James and Lily when he stands up. You think he sees you for a moment because you can feel his stare. However, when you lift your head and make eye contact for a moment. James's expression is unreadable and he's the first to turn his head. He grins and continues his conversation with Lily as you're frozen in time.

"Y/n?" Mary calls your name and time resumes.

"Yeah?" you whisper, composing yourself and crossing your arms on the table.

"Here," she hands you a crumpled-up note and points behind her, "It's from Danny."

You take the note from Mary and tilt your head to see Danny Dulac staring at you from the Slytherin table. Danny Dulac is the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. He's tall, extremely smart, and has the silkiest blond hair.

Danny sends you a smile and motions toward the paper in your hand which reads:

~I heard Potter is out of the picture now. Does this mean you're free for a Butterbeer on Saturday?~

You think it's a joke but when you look up, Danny looks dead serious. Mary leans over and when she sees the note over your shoulder, she exclaims, "Oh my Merlin, Danny just asked you out!" she pushes on your shoulder excitedly and you shush her.

You stare at the cursive and your mind races. You spent so many years liking James that it had never even crossed your mind that you could like other boys, or that they could like you.

"Well? Answer him," Pandora insists and makes a little circle motion with her hand.

Once you find a quill from inside your book-bag, you reply with a small, enthusiastic,

~Yes!~

* * *

Over the week leading up to Saturday, you try to pretend James and Lily don't exist.

It's much easier than you imagined because you have Danny's to pay attention to now. Turns out Danny Dulac is a gentleman who carries your books in the hallway and compliments you whenever he has the chance.

You don't feel the loss you felt when you found out James and Lily kissed—at least not when James isn't staring at you from afar. You knew James wasn't that fond of Danny—being the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and all—but ever since Danny has been hanging around you it seems like James can't stand the guy.

It's confusing, especially because James hasn't made any attempts to talk to you since his relationship with Lily became public.

You sit in Potions next to Marlene when Remus Lupin comes up to you. "Y/n?" he asks in a quiet voice and you look up at him, "It's from James," he shows you the note in his hand and you stare at it like it's one of James's stupid pranks.

You thank Remus and open it anyway,

~Meet me at Hogsmeade on Saturday?~

Without a word to Remus, you scribble an answer,

~I have a date~

You fold the torn parchment and hand it to Remus. You watch him walk back to James and Sirius. When James sees you've actually written him a response, his eyes sparkle and he hides a smile. However, his smile disappears once he reads the contents and you’ve never seen him so perturbed.

He starts to scribble on the paper and, with his eyes focused on you, hands it to Remus.

Remus shakes his head adamantly so James then tries to hand it to Sirius, who also shakes his head. James's last option is Peter but the poor boy has fallen asleep on his Potions book.

You smile. Your attention is pulled from them when you see Danny next to you.

"Hi," he smiles.

"Hi," you answer and the last thing that could possibly be on your mind is James Potter.

* * *

You pull at the hem of your dress and adjust your jumper nervously. Danny has just made the same joke he made a few hours earlier and you really try and force out another chuckle.

"You ok? You look a little warm," Danny says foam from the beer lays across his upper lip.

You blink. You like him, you try to convince yourself, he's smart and super handsome and he carries your books for Merlin's sake—

"I'm completely fine, continue?" you smile sweetly and lean in towards him from across the table. You want to look interested.

Danny smirks and looks around. "Wanna go somewhere quieter?"

No, you want to say. You won't want to go anywhere with him because that means you have to listen to him some more and he's oh so boring.

Only you don't say no, you say, "Sure," and allow him to take your hand.

Once you've found a small, empty corner of The Three Broomsticks, Danny pushes you to the wall. His hand is resting near your forehead and he leans in as if he wants to kiss you. You panic and push him away, "Oh I'm super warm actually. One second," You turn and your hands tremble as you pull your jumper over your head and let it slide down your arms.

Danny looks a little annoyed when you turn back around. His eyes lower and he frowns, "Pretty' necklace. Who's it from?" he points out and you look down.

James's necklace.

"Oh. A friend," you say dismissively and rush to unclip it as it falls into your hands.

"A friend huh?" Danny crosses his arms, "Is it from Potter?"

You feel your cheeks become warm. Why would he ask that? You aren't sure what expression you're making but it cannot be a normal one.

"No!" you say and Danny yanks the necklace from your hands. Your heart sinks as you try to take it back instantly.

Danny holds it away from you, making you feel small, "You can't keep this."

"Why not? It's mine," your lip wobbles.

"Because it's from him and he has a girl. It's completely inappropriate."

You lower your arm and your heart hurts. Is Danny right? Maybe you have thrown away the necklace as soon as you found out about James and Lily? Why are you still wearing it?

"Plus, if you want to be my girl you'll throw away this dirty necklace," Danny snarls as he runs his fingers along the silver chain. You freeze.

"What?" you can't believe he just said that.

"What?" Danny counters. He seems confused at your sudden shift in tone.

"I am not your girl. I don't want to be your girl."

"Bullshit, Y/n," Danny rolls his eyes and stuffs your necklace into his robe. He walks closer, this time menacingly, and you feel stuck. Your hands press against the wall and you look at him. Your eyes brim with tears, mostly in hopes he'll leave you alone when he sees them. Danny just raises his hand and harshly brushes them away with his thumb, "You should feel lucky someone like me even likes you," he smirks.

You feel like someone just punched you in the gut and you stutter, "Get away from me."

"No," Danny says and leans in. Only, he's suddenly ripped from in front of you and you inhale, surprised. You blink as Danny stumbles when someone seizes his collar. You feel someone else's hand on your shoulder and you turn to look at them.

"Are you okay?" Kind, considerate, Lily Evans whispers, concerned at your tears.

"What the fuck?!" You hear a loud crack as Danny groans in pain. You look towards the sound and see James Potter take Danny's collar again, his knuckles already stained a little crimson. James looks furious.

"Did you hurt her?" he hisses and shakes Danny like it's nothing.

Lily soothes you by rubbing your shoulders and she calls James's name as a warning.

"Hurt her? We're on a date, Potter. She wanted it," Danny snarls and you wince. You didn't want it. James looks at you and Lily from the corner of his eye and his heart breaks when he sees your expression.

"Fucking nutter!" James exclaims and punches Danny in the stomach. This time, Danny doesn't just take the hit. Instead, he tackles James and they trip onto the ground. Lily screams at her boyfriend and you scream Danny's name.

You try to pull Danny away from James but it's only when you hear a loud crack as Danny lands on his left thigh that he pauses. You gasp, covering your mouth with your hands, which makes James pause and he looks confused as Danny pulls out your necklace from inside his robe. The small rubies have shattered and when Danny opens his hand, the chain and the shards drop onto the ground.

He stands and taunts, "Some gift, huh Potter?" James's expression falls.

You crouch down, scooping the, now completely ruined, necklace into your palms. You try to hold in your tears and the world around you turns silent as you look at your present. "Shut it," You hear Lily snap at Danny and she doesn't hesitate to help you stand. Her arm holds yours and she looks almost as furious as James.

"She's crying because of you, you prat! Does that make you feel good about yourself, huh?" James points out with frustration.

You know he means well, but it doesn't help that he basically announced to the entirety of The Three Broomsticks that you're in tears. You sniffle and look at Danny. His blue eyes shine with a mixture of embarrassment, pity, shame, and resentment.

"Whatever," he just snarls, "She's not worth it. She never was," he says as if you aren't standing directly in front of him.

"You piece of shit," James hisses but Lily interrupts him.

"James. No," she scolds like a mother and James whips his head around to glare at her.

Instead, he makes eye contact with you and his face falls once more. His posture softens and, to your surprise, he doesn't move when Danny bumps his shoulder to leave.

"I'm sorry, James," you say sadly, still holding his present.

He looks confused and tilts his head as walks closer to you. Murmurs drift around the room as students continue to watch the scene. Lily looks around, seemingly just as uncomfortable as you, and James does the same.

He gestures to the door and raises one of his eyebrows in a question. Lily nods. Quietly, you follow them outside and as you walk.

James and Lily somehow find their way next to each other. It's almost automatic for them and your heart breaks. Lily whispers into James's ear and his eyes glance at you. You look away, insecurities burning your chest.

"You okay?" Lily asks, turning around when you start to fall back behind them.

You hum and pick at your nails, "I- I'm gonna go," you mutter. Lily wants to protest but, without a word, you stand before James and let the broken necklace fall into his open hands.

He looks at you with wide eyes and then clutches his hand around the necklace so fiercely. He shakes his head and your name leaves his lip but you don't wait for him to continue. You turn to leave—what can he possibly say now that will make you feel better?

"I like you!" His voice resonates in your ears as your breath leaves you. You turn around, almost hurting your neck. You couldn't have heard him correctly. Your eyes bounce to Lily but she doesn't look hurt. She doesn't even look surprised. Instead, she sends you a small smile.

You blink, "Pardon me?" You walk a little closer to James, "You like me? As in romantically or as a person?"

James starts to stutter, "R-romantically."

You look towards Lily, bewildered. "But, you're dating her!"

James turns to look at Lily just as she speaks up, "No, we broke up. We didn't even last more than maybe two weeks, Y/n." She laughs, "You two should really talk—"

James nods at her and then turns to you once more. His arms stretch out as if he wants to make sure you won't run away from him. "Please, Y/n. Hear me out." He sounds so small and for someone with such a big personality, you're suddenly afraid.

You find yourself nodding slowly and let him lead you behind The Three Broomsticks. James lets you lean against the wall and then he nervously runs a hand in his hair.

"James, I don't understand," you say quietly, "You like Lily. You have always liked Lily—I was always just some girl you entertained because you liked the attention. I've always known that."

James's face falls as he listens to you and you see his hands hesitate towards you. "You were never just some girl," he says adamantly.

You frown, "Yes, I was."

"No, you weren't," His voice rises and you press your back against the wall, staring at him as he explains, "Listen, I ended things with Lily. It was my decision. I realized I couldn't stay with her and do you want to know why?"

You shake your head instantly but he tells you anyway.

"Because she wasn't you. She didn't make me feel as full as you always do. When she laughed, I never had the same butterflies in my stomach," James pressed his hand to his chest, "My heart didn't feel compressed in my chest whenever I looked at her. I didn't blush at her compliments like I would yours, or want her to smile only because of me. Just like you used to. Bloody hell, I thought of you when I kissed her."

Your entire body feels warm as embarrassment washes over you. "Why did you then?" your voice breaks, "Why did you put me through that? You knew what I felt for you and you chose Lily anyway. How can I trust you now, James?"

You watch his lip tremble as he looks at you with his doleful brown eyes and your heart shatters for the fourth time this hour alone.

"I don't know," he buries his face in his hands, making an exasperated sound, " I know that answer isn't good enough for you, and I know I can't take back the pain you felt when you saw me with her. I do know that."

You don't know what to answer.

James runs a hand over his jaw and looks at you, "I suppose I couldn't let the fantasy go," he admits in a whisper.

You turn your head away, "Y-yeah—Lily Evans, the fantasy. I understand."

"W-what? No, that isn't what I meant!" James assures you, "I've been stuck on Lily for years. I know I didn't see you, but—but I see you now."

You stare at him. He looks so upset that your anger turns into pity, "James—"

"Y/n, please don't reject me. I can't bear it," his voice breaks as his eyes water. He walks closer and drops the broken necklace he'd given you in your palm. Your hand closes around it without thinking. "I've been such an idiot but I can't imagine losing you like this."

"You lost me the moment I saw you with Lily. You don't deserve to have me—not like this, and definitely not anymore," you say sternly and watch as you break the heart of the boy you're madly in love with.

"James, you strung me along for months and months, and then threw me away without hesitation for her. If you liked me, you would have never let me cry over you for weeks," your voice becomes louder.

James's hurt expression twists and his eyes darken, "You spent your days with Danny Dulac for fucks sake! What the hell was I supposed to do?" he also raises his voice.

"You aren't allowed to be jealous!" you say and push your index into his chest, tears streaming down your cheeks, "You ruined this," your voice dies as your hand flattens on his chest and he grasps it in his. James pulls you closer and leans his head onto yours.

For a moment, you let it rest there, but then you pull away. "I can't do this," you mutter, "you only want what you can't have, James," you whisper and you know your words would hurt him but you don't care. You hear him call your name as you walk away from him.

* * *

Over the next few months, it's as if you and James never existed.

You don't speak in class and when James wants to talk outside of classes, you ignore him. Eventually, he stops trying. He doesn't go back to Lily like you'd expected him to. Instead, time goes by, you both graduate, and it isn't until Marlene's 21st birthday that you see James Potter again.

He's in the middle of a small crowd: his smile as bright and wide as you remember. He's laughing like he would in school and you stand to the side of the room, suddenly unsure what to do with yourself.

When James sees you, his smile falters for a moment. He looks you up and down and when his eyes land on the necklace you're wearing, his heart thumps in his chest and he can't help but wander over to you. You almost run from him, but enough time has passed for you to stay still.

"Hi," James says, looking into your eyes.

You look up, your voice merely a whisper, "Hi."

Weirdly, conversation flows easily. You talk about work, hobbies, and eventually you land on relationships. Somehow you've found each other in a secluded side of the room, you're leaning against the wall as James's arm rests near your head. It isn't confrontational—no, instead you feel safe caged in his strong arms. Your eyes train on the muscles of his arm—of course he plays Professional Quidditch now. You need to remind yourself to pay more attention to Quidditch from now on.

"You seeing anyone?" James hums, his eyes flickering to your necklace again. You fiddle with it subconsciously and shake your head.

"You?"

James shakes his head too and he finally asks the question that's been burning his lips, "You fixed it," he raises his arm and his thumb skims the rubies.

You hum and nod. "I did."

"Why?"

You laugh and look at James. "Because I love this necklace," you pause a moment and you whisper, "And it reminds me of someone."

James seems surprised and he runs a hand in his curls. He looks at you and leans in a little. "C-can I?" he asks and a part of you wants to shake your head…tell him to fuck off. But, this is James Potter. He's the only boy you've ever loved—no matter who came after him. You nod and James's hand cups your cheeks as his lips press against yours.

"I've been thinking of doing this for years," he says breathlessly through his kisses.

I have too, you want to say but instead you just pull him closer.

"I love you," James says suddenly and pulls away. He looks flustered as he tries to explain himself. "I- I never stopped."

You look at him and utter three words James didn't think he'd ever hear, "Neither did I."

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