#so sorry for being a music person out of nowhere

[cypherverze]

always be my baby.

PAIRINGS: carlos sainz x singer!reader

SUMMARY: It was seven years ago when you last saw each other, it was also seven years ago that you had made a mutual decision that it is best if you both go your own ways. But in those seven years, you never expected that he’ll be leaving you half of him, making it harder for you to completely move on, but jokes on you, you’re still pretty much in love with him. Seven years later, you never expected you’ll be meeting him again, bringing back unresolved feelings and repercussions of the past decisions back to the forefront.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is my first time writing an f1 imagine, so I hope you guys will like it. this is just a product of brainrot at 3am. i’m sorry if there will be a typo and I also used mariah carey’s (which whom I love so much) song heh

TERMS: solntse - sunshine/ray of sunshine ; schast’ye - happiness ; dyadya - uncle

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect to the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 4.2k

WARNINGS: some angst (but you’ll be ok)

Las Vegas.

The place where you had been residing for the past seven years, and where you had decided to raise your lovely twins, Thiago and Gabriela, after you and Carlos had parted ways.

Seven years ago, you had been in love with the Carlos Sainz. During that time, he was already starting his F1 journey, with his dreams as big as the tracks he conquered. Though your passion for each other was certainly undeniable, but so were both of your ambitions. So when you had discovered that you were pregnant, you had hoped that it would further cement the bond that you both had. But instead, it shattered your dreams. Carlos had flat out rejected the thought of you being pregnant, and admitted that he wasn’t ready for fatherhood, not now that his racing career is starting to take off. The heart-wrenching decision to part ways had been mutual, yet very agonizing for you.

After your split, you had cut off everyone that is connected with Carlos, even his family—Carlos Sr., Reyes, Blanca, and Ana, whom that had loved you very dearly. They had always been teasing both you and Carlos on how you two would certainly end up marrying each other, but apparently the opposite had happened. Leaving you all alone to navigate the challenges of single parenthood. But you didn’t have to worry of being alone your entire life, your parents, brother, and your sister-in-law had been there for you, helping you every step of the way.

The pregnancy had also prompted you to have a seven year hiatus from the music industry, leaving your fans to wonder when you’ll be coming back. You had focused all of your energy in being a hands on parent to Thiago and Gabriela, but not forgetting to write a new song in your free time when you got a new inspiration for a new album that you had been setting aside. This routine has been going on for seven years, until you had finally released your comeback album last month, where it had taken over the world by storm and had an incredible amount of success that peaked number one in different countries. No one had expected you to drop an album out of nowhere, not when you had been radio silent for over seven years, with a little bit of life update on your instagram account.

Not a week later after your comeback album had been released, you had been offered to a concert residency at Caesar’s Palace, which you had gladly accepted. The prospect of touring scares you as of the moment, so you had decided that doing a show every weekend in the same place and time would much suit you better for the time being. You prefer to have an intimate time with your fans right after your seven year hiatus—which they rightfully deserve of not seeing you for how many years, instead of diving head first at the thought of touring.

So here you are now, it’s the opening night of your concert residency in Las Vegas. You are waiting at the backstage of the Colosseum, watching the dimmed lights of the Colosseum glistened off of the opulent decor. You can hear the buzz of excitement of the eager fans that are excited to see you perform live again after seven years had filled the air. Your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. It has been years since you had last performed on stage again, you’re praying to the gods that you don’t embarrass yourself, like forgetting the lyrics and tripping on stage.

As you took the stage, your powerful voice that you had always been known for had filled the colosseum, captivating everyone that is present. Your eyes had scanned the crowd, reconnecting with your fans that had waited for you in so long to see you again. For a fleeting moment, your eyes locked with with those familiar eyes that you would never forget in your life. Your heart skipped a bit, but you quickly regained your composure, acting like it did not affect you at all, telling yourself that it’s just your pure imagination, simply a ghost of christmas past, that it’s a different person and not him, and continued your performance, pouring all of your emotions. Singing songs from your new album, where it entails what you had been through for the last seven years, and performing a few songs from your old releases. Which had been a real treat for your fans.

Meanwhile, in the midst of the audience, an F1 racer sat among with his friends, his face showing admiration and a touch of nostalgia. Carlos had come to your show out of respect and curiosity, also because his friends are a fan of yours. When the first notes of one of the song in your setlist played, Carlos had felt a strange sense of familiarity. His mind took him back to a memory of you playing the same song on the piano for him, where you had just began drafting the lyrics for your supposed to be new album that time. But he shook it off and convinced himself that it can’t be you. His memories of yours had been a blur to him, especially when he had lost contact with you. Seven years has been a lot of years for him, and he was sure that you had changed a lot during those years.

During the interlude, before you perform the next song, you had decided to connect with the audience. Entertaining them a little bit. Since it was your opening night, your family came with you in full support, including the twins. They are currently in the private area of the venue, and not forgetting that you had planned something special for your opening night. Hoping that everyone in the audience will like it.

“Las Vegas, how are you doing tonight!” You asked, causing the audience to cheer. “Wow. A whole seven years, huh.” You laughed as the rest of the audience laughed with you as well.

“It feels really good to be back again and performing in front of you all. To be honest, I was so nervous of performing again with a live audience. But once I stepped onto the stage, everything had flowed in naturally, like a muscle memory.” You smiled.

“I must admit though, the past seven years had never been really easy for me. During those years, I can say that there was a LOT going on at that time.”

It was indeed a never easy seven years for you. The entire world had gotten a whiff of your pregnancy, and you had been a cover of various gossip magazines and topic of various podcasts. You and your family had been trying to fight off paparazzis that were following you around and wanted to get some scoop. When it was time for the twins to come out into the world, you and your family made sure that no media or paparazzis will profit off of it. You are very strict and serious when it comes to your twins’ privacy, and not letting the world know of their identity. It’s also a lie when you say that those gossip headlines does not hurt or affect you at all, headlines like—

‘greatest female powerhouse singer of this generation had been knocked up?! No wedding ring visible…could it be a one night stand?!’

It really hurt and pissed you off.

Your pregnancy was never a secret to the world. It was private, but never a secret. But you cannot say the same in your and Carlos’ past relationship, your whole relationship had been a secret from the start, you both don’t want the media nor the paparazzis to meddle in your relationship, and it was a mutual decision. So when you got pregnant, the media couldn’t link you to anyone that could’ve gotten you pregnant. Up until now, the media doesn’t have any clue as to who the twins’ father is, and you inted to keep it that way.

But you know very well that you can’t hide the fact that Thiago is slightly starting to look like his dad, Carlos. While Gabriela took on your features, that there is completely nothing denying that Thiago and Gabriela are both you and Carlos’ mini me. For sure the media is bound to form a speculation as the twins grow up, but you intend to keep the obvious fact hidden for as long as you can. This exposure of the twins in your concert will be a really big one. Hoping that you’ll be able to contain the aftermath of it.

“This next song is from the new album, and as you all know, if you listen to the whole album, it’s basically all about my journey, of what everything that had happened during those years.” You smiled at the crowd.

“I know that there are a lot of people that has different interpretations of the song, which I really loved reading, by the way! I had read some of it and it was all really nice, thank you!” You chuckled.

“I intentionally did not want to include this one on the setlist, because its a personal one. I know what you’re all thinking, why put it on album if it’s a personal song. For me it’s okay to be included in the album, but performing the song…it really hits home.” You explained, “but I had changed my mind and added it the last minute, and thought about how I wanted to just turn it into a positive one.” the crowd cheered.

“I also have a special guests with me, that will help me sing this song because I’m dedicating this to them. This is their song.”

You had turned back your attention towards the backstage and check if the twins are all ready to make their special appearance, but the crew had signaled you that the twins will be joining you in two minutes top since they are still getting ready.

“I want to make this opening night of my concert residency a bit special, so that’s why I’m having a very very very special guests with me.” You smiled widely.

“They had been really begging me to join on this one, which even caught me by surprise because they had already practiced for it even before they could ask if they could join me! Can you guys believe it? They are actually really prepared for it!” You said in disbelief, as the audience laughed.

“Then they explained to me why they want to do it, they said that it’s because I will be performing again for the first time after seven years, and they wanted to make it feel more special.” You put your hands over your heart, with a soft expression showing in your face. So touched on what the twins had told you the reason they wanted to perform with you live on stage.

You turned your attention again backstage to see if the twins are already, and they already are, they are just waiting for your queue for them to enter the stage. You had signaled the band to start playing the song and your fabulous four, which is what you call your backup singers, started harmonizing the intro of the song.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” you announced, “I’d like to introduce my two very special guests tonight. My twins, Thiago and Gabriela!”

Everyone in the Colosseum cheered very loudly, they couldn’t believe that your twins would make an appearance in your opening night. It is the first time that your fans, rather the world have seen your twins, considering that you are a very private person and you wouldn’t want your twins be exposed, you wanted them to grow up and have a normal childhood. But considering your status, you are making triple efforts to safeguard your twins.

The twins bounded onto the stage, being guided by your mom, jumping up and down, their overall energy just being so infectious as they joined you for a rendition of your song. You looked at your twins in awe, pure happiness radiating off from the twins, their eyes sparking as the audience cheers loudly for them.

“Thank you so much, momma!” You thanked your mom as you gently grabbed each of their hand and guiding them to the center stage.

“Mommy, there’s so many people!” Gabriela whispered cutely onto the mic, and the audience awed.

“Woah!” Followed by Thiago, completely fascinated.

“There are indeed a lot of people, isn’t it schast’ye?” You said, “They are really excited to see you both tonight!”

The twins squealed in excitement, the thought of people wanting to see them had made them jump again out of excitement.

“Theo, we’re famous!” Gabriela shouted happily, causing the audience to have another laugh.

“When can we sing mommy?” Thiago asked, as the audience cheered.

“We’ll be singing now, solntse.” You laughed, as the band started to play the music a bit louder. “This next song is called Always Be My Baby, and I dedicate this song to my wonderful angels that is with me here tonight on the stage. Solntse, schast’ye, this is your song.”

“We were as one, babe, for a moment in time,” you began singing, looking at the twins lovingly, “and it seemed everlasting, that you would always be mine. Now you want to be free, so I’m lettin’ you fly.” You looked at the audience.

“‘Cause I know in my heart babe, our love will never die—okay my loves, here comes your part!”

“You’ll always be a part of me,” Gabriela started, “I’m part of you indefinitely.” Thiago followed.

You are looking at them lovingly, with a proud smile etched on your face.

“Boy don’t you know you can’t escape me, oh darlin’ ‘cause you’ll always be my baby.” They both sang together.

Truth be told, you had written this song for Carlos, an ode to your relationship. It would be a lie if you said that you had completely moved on from him, but you truly did not, it still pains you every time you see him with another partner, and knowing how you both had children out of wedlock. How can you even move on when he left you half of him, he blessed you with two beautiful angels that you would never trade anything for the world, and would always choose to be their mother in every lifetime. Though for you, it doesn’t matter if you had already split up, Carlos will always own your heart.

“I ain’t gonna cry, no, and I won’t beg you to stay. If you’re determined to leave boy, I will not stand in your way,” at some point, you had made an eye contact again with those familiar eyes, but quickly avert your attention to the audience, “but inevitably, you’ll be back again, ‘cause you know in my heart, babe, our love will never end no.”

The twins sang the whole chorus, and you let them. They really love the chorus of your song, so it’s fitting that they are ones who sing it, but sometimes you harmonize with them. As the end of the song is approaching, you and the twins had sang it altogether.

“‘Cause you’ll always be my baby.” Spreading out an arm to the twins, as the twins rushed to give you a tight hug.

Your and the twins’ giggles had been heard from the mic, you gave both them a kiss om their foreheads, and the whole audience errupted in cheers and stood up for a standing ovation.

“Give it up once again for the twins, ladies and gentlemen!” After the twins’ performance, they were guided back by the crew backstage.

“Bye mommy!” The twins said in unison.

“Bye my babies!” You said, as both of the twins blew a flying kiss at you, and you returned back the sweet gesture.

You continued on performing, and you finally reached the last song of your setlist before you conclude your opening night.

“Okay, the last song I’d like to sing for you, it’s called Dreamlover,” you smiled, “and I just would like to thank everyone for being here with me, and tell you that I love each and everyone of you! You can all stand up and dance if you’d like!”

As the band started playing the notes to your song, everyone stood up and danced. You decided to go down the stage and interact with your fans. A security guided you to get around the venue, once you are comfortable, you walked around the venue and hugging some fans, and taking selfies with you. You also shook hands with some of them.

“Hello there!” You said into the mic as you looked up to the people that are seated in the balcony area of the venue, “yes, I see you all up there and you all are looking very lovely tonight!”

You continued interacting with your fans, when a little girl come up to you and gave you a hug. Touched from the little girl’s action, you immediately hugged her back, and she gave you a cute little bear.

“Is this for me?” She nodded, “thank you so much! This is a very lovely gift!” She then went back to her parents and you waved at them.

As you continued walking and singing, handshaking fans and hugging them—you did not recognize that you’re getting closer at the section where Carlos and his friends were seated. There was a brief panic in your eyes, when you saw Carlos—literally there standing, flesh and blood, the father of your children, standing and enjoying the show with his friends. Simply you cannot ignore Carlos, as the media can conjure a bunch of speculations with the interactions and can use it against you. Media people can be ruthless if they want to and create unnecessary drama if you choose to try and ignore Carlos.

So you continued singing and decided to interact with his friends by giving them a smile and each of them a handshake, Carlos will be the last one you’ll interact with since he’s seated at the last seat of their row. Some of his friends are familiar faces with you, since your brother is a huge F1 fan and had been to many grand prix before. You can identify some his friends—Charles, Lando, Max, Lewis, and Daniel. You also just noticed that they also brought their girlfriends with them, since they had took a photo with you.

Then you had finally reached Carlos. It felt like everything was in slow motion and your heart was beating rapidly, felt like it’s gonna leap our of your chest anytime, but you kept your cool. You smiled at him and briefly shook his hand. Apparently he’s the last one you’ll interact with before going back to the stage. As you went back up to the stage, a fan had called out for you, wanting to give you a rose, the fan is a bit far from you and you wanted to accept the rose from the fan, you went back down of the stage again, but you had never expected that Carlos will be the one that will give you the fan’s rose, he had helped the fan get the rose to reach you. You never got to thank him, since the security is already ushering you back to the stage.

At this very moment, Carlos was internally scolding himself, telling himself why the hell did he just do that. In his defense, he just acted out of impulse, and wanted to help a fan. Charles slightly slapped his back and wiggled his eyebrows at Carlos, and Carlos just rolled his eyes at him. His action did not go unnoticed by his friends and everyone in their section.

“Smooth operator, huh.” Charles teased him.

“Shut up.”

“Thank you so much for the rose.” You said to the fan and wave at them. As the song ended, you thanked everyone again for coming.

“Thank you once again for coming, see you again next weekend. Good night!” You said and had exited the stage.

After the show, celebrity and personal friends of yours that had attended your show was invited backstage, as a special privilege for them now that you’re now back in the music industry. In which Carlos and his friends were also invited backstage. You began talking to everyone, and how they congratulated you for a successful opening night of your concert residency.

“We are really glad that you are now back in the industry, and here’s to many more successful concert residency!” A celebrity friend of yours said, followed by cheering from others.

You had excused yourself to look for the twins. The twins are sitting on the couch with your mother, playing on their ipads as your mother watches over them. As you make your way towards them, a hand had stopped you, a soft grip on your wrist. Turning back and looking at the hand that grabbed you, you saw that it was Carlos. He never fails to make your heart skip, at any given moment, you’ll have a heart attack because of him.

“(Y/N),” he breathed out, “it’s really you.”

“Carlos…hi.” Your reply came more of a whisper, but he still heard it. “What are you doing here?” There’s a surprise, mixed with wariness in your eyes.

Seeing and interacting with Carlos out there is one thing, but him in backstage and talking to you right now is a whole different thing. The gods have not fully prepared you with this encounter, you know that sooner or later you’ll face him, but not when you had just came back from your hiatus.

“I came to see the show, with my friends. They’re a fan of yours,” he said, his eyes shifting to the twins. “They were incredible…you’re incredible.”

“Thank you,” you replied, your voice becoming steady, but your heart still pounding.

Carlos took a deep breath, he noticed that he’s still gripping your wrist, so he softly detached his hands on your wrist.

“(Y/N), the twins…they look so much like you. There’s something…” he breathed, “I can’t help but feel there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Your gaze hardened slightly, but before you could respond, you felt small hands tugging your gown. As you looked behind, you saw Thiago staring at Carlos intently.

“Mommy, who is this man?” You put a hand behind your son’s back and caressed his back softly.

“This is uncle Carlos, solntse. Mommy’s old friend.” You smiled.

“Hey there, bud.” Carlos crouched down to Thiago’s level and greeted him.

“I know you!” Thiago blurted out, “you drive a fast car! My dyadya dislikes you!” He looked at Carlos with eye wide of fascination, but very blunt as ever.

“O-oh, yeah, I drive a fast car.” Carlos chuckled, dismissing what the other thing Thiago had said.

“Solntse, why don’t you go back to schast’ye for a while? Mommy will be right with you in a minute.” Thiago nodded.

“Bye uncle Carlos!”

“How old are they?” Carlos asked.

“Seven. They’re turning eight in a few months.”

Carlos’ heart skipped a beat, looking into your eyes, the weight of seven years of secrets and decisions hanging between them. You wanted to tell him so bad, but it is not the time yet, but you are sure that by now, just looking at Thiago, he has an idea that the twins are his.

“Never knew that you got married.” He blurted out, just for the sake of talking to you a little bit longer.

“I never married. It’s just me and the twins, marriage is not really in my roster at the moment, having the twins is already enough for me. I have a lot of things going on…yeah.”

“They must be a handful.”

“They are,” you said with a chuckle, looking back at the twins, “but they’re worth every second. They are my life, they’re the ones that saved me from losing myself.”

There was a long pause, the air thick with unspoken words. Carlos wanted to ask more, to understand the life that you had built, but something held him back.

“I wish you all the best.” He finally said, his voice tinged with sadness he couldn’t quite place.

“Thank you, Carlos.” She replied, her eyes searching his, “likewise.”

Just in time, one of his friends, Charles, informed Carlos that they’ll about to leave.

“Thank you so much for inviting us backstage of your show, we really had a great time tonight.” Charles thanked you.

“The pleasure is all mine.” You smiled as you shook his hands.

As they both walk away, Carlos couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, he was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. That something does not sit right with him. You watched him go, a single tear escaping your eye. The truth, and the twins’ parentage had been remained unspoken of. Hoping that one day both of you would get to sit down and have a proper talk, and when time permits, Carlos formally meets the twins.

[tony-andonuts]

I wish i could hack into every device on earth and make everyone listen to bulldog eyes they are sooOOoooo slept on

[martyrlamb]

✶ 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.

[enhastolemyheart]

enha + boyfriend moments ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

pairing non idol!enha x fem!reader warnings none genre fluff est. relationship nets @k-films @kflixnet

a/n I wanted to try something different this time. sorry i went mia for so long :(( i decided to do something for all of enha boys and i hope u enjoy!! also i totally forgot abt jungwon's allergies while writing his part so less jus pretend he is not allergic to cats :((

banners by @cafekitsune

LEE HEESEUNG ツ

i feel like heeseung would always and i mean ALWAYS trap you between himself and whatever other object is there near you. I honestly feel he loves to see you flustered and ears all burning red just from a mere touch as he very smoothly traps you between his arms, nowhere to escape. like, the look on your face is such a ego booster and this little "moment" has to happen at least once a day. It is just a heeseung coded move and it gets you worked up every single time.

"hee, I just had to go get groceries real quick, can you let me go?" You try to excuse yourself from his hold as you were trapped between the counter and his arms. "no baby," he bends to meet your eye level, "you left without giving me a kiss." he moves in so close you think you'll combust. "cmon baby, make it up to me."

more under the cut!

PARK JONGSEONG ツ

we all know Jay's love language is acts of service and maybe even gift giving. cmon, its obvious that jay is the kind of person to always buckle your seatbelt for you, open any kind of door for you, cook meals that remind you of your culture and hometown, likee he is literally the sweetest boyfriend ever. he's perfect. he is also the type to always have a belonging of your in his bag whenever you both are outside. like that is so jay coded.

your day started with a quick breakfast at a cafe, and then your extravaganza at the amusement park. You and jay went through it all, the amazing food, the thrilling rides. he even held your hand the whole through the roller coaster to help you conquer your fear. he was there every step of the way and you both had so much fun. the sun had started setting and so you both get seated at a highly reviewed restaurant in the park for dinner. Just as the food came, you wanted to tie your hair up, feeling scorching due the humid air and all that walking you did. noticing you were having trouble finding your tie, Jay casually puts his wrist closer to you where a hair tie was sitting. "here, i kept an extra."

SIM JAEYUN ツ

jake is definitely the type of boyfriend to take you out on night drives. windows rolled down, music blasting in the air, one hand on the wheel and the other intertwined with yours. you couldn't have spent your night with jake in any other way. he loves you with all his heart and i feel like one way of showing it is through songs, so what's better than listening to playlist he made for when he thought of you, while riding around the city at its most quiet hour?

"baby, i just added some new songs to the playlist." he confesses, giving your knuckles a sweet kiss before bringing it back onto your lap. "yeah? lemme hear it jakey." he giggles as he presses play "i love you, my girl." he looks at you the whole time you were listening, together on a blanket as you indulge the beautiful night sky.

PARK SUNGHOON ツ

one thing that sunghoon loves but doesn't want to admit is waking up in your arms. quite literally, he loves falling asleep on your chest with your hand massaging his back and hair. ugh, he'd just melt to sleep then and there itself. don't get him wrong, he absolutely loves seeing you under his arms first thing in the morning. but, something about being in your embrace where he can be vulnerable and himself is just far much better. he absolutely love your sweet and hoarse voice as you greet him a good morning and then proceed to pepper his precious face with kisses to start of the day right. he feel so much better with you and your presence.

the little kisses being left on the top of sunghoon's hair wakes him up. he looks up at you from his place, hair all strewn, arms wrapped around your midriff while head tucked inside the crook of your neck. you giggle softly at his sleepy smile before running a hand through his hair, "good morning, sleeping beauty." he huff as you see the evident pink on his cheeks. "good morning" comes out muffles due to how close his mouth is to your skin, placing gentle kisses and squeezing your waist. he looks up at you through his eyelashes, giving you a full, sweet good morning kiss and murmuring that he wants to stay five more minutes in bed.

KIM SUNOO ツ

this is such a sunoo coded thing. but, he absolutely LOVES doing masks and manicures with you. like, imagine just sitting on your bed, face masks on and gossiping about anything and everything while painting each others' nails. sunoo is the type of boyfriend in whom you'll find a best friend. like, he is always the first you would go to share news and stuff and vice versa.

"and so because of niki, we got the rest of the day off!" sunoo exclaimed finishing the mini story of a recently occurred event. you couldn't help but laugh at the irony of the story. minutes pass, and now he is painting your nails this time, both of you rocking a baby pink color. you both end up binging 2000s rom-coms before dozing off sleeping soundly in each others' arms.

YANG JUNGWON ツ

ugh. jungwon is such a soft boyfie. he is always by your side helping/accompanying you to anything and everything. jungwon is very kind and caring and takes care with so much love, he loves you more than himself. he is the type to always greet you with warm hugs and cheek kisses. hand holding when going on a stroll outside no matter the time of day. he is also very BIG on words of affirmation. he is always telling he loves you and he makes sure you know.

"omg! won, look!" you point at the stray cat that was situated under a tree near the trail of the pretty park you both are at. he looks at it with wide eyes before slowly moving towards the cat, wanting to greet it. once the ginger cat understands that you both mean no harm, it starts to get close with jungwon rubbing up against his leg. "it is so cute won, it looks just like you!" you exclaim resulting in a chuckle from your boyfriend. he slowly picks up the cat, bringing its face close to his before turning to you. "see baby, you can't tell the difference between me and the cat, can you?" you chuckle softly kissing his cheek. you both decide to take the cat to a vet and then give it some food and shelter for the night.

NISHIMURA RIKI ツ

this kid. as much as playful he is, he is as equal in being sincere and true to himself and your relationship. he loves to tease you. i think quality time is one of his ways of loving you, so i can def see you both out on adventurous dates together. whether it be basketball dates, going to an amusement park together, spending time with each other at 4 am having ice cream, anything and everything you do, it's always filled with love and laughter that make up wonderful memories.

"come on baby, try and take it from me." niki exclaimes as yet again steals the basketball from your hold dribbling slowly towards the basket. "ugh, you and your damn long legs." you mumur. he laugh at your comment before stopping in front of you. he is so close that you know you are going to turn red soon if he doesn't back up. "here." he puts the ball in front of you, and you have to declare yourself stupid because inches before you can get the ball, he raises his arms, putting the ball way out of your hold. "riki! not fair." you out as you try and jump to get the ball. Niki simply laughs at your silly attempts. "you are so cute, you know that?" he bends to meet your eye level, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. "i love you" knowing the effect you had on him, you managed to snatch the ball before running away and yelling, "i love you too dork!" niki smirks at your escape before chasing after you.

a/n. tysm for reading!! i hope u liked it! this was not proofread!!

perm taglist: @jak-ey ; @snoowhore ; @hsgwrld ; @seungiesluv ; @1-800shutthefuckup ; @heeseungshim (send an ask to be added)

[chenfleur]

lowkey

summary. jeonghan's supposed to be on stage in twenty minutes, and he's nowhere to be found.

pairing. idol!jeonghan x makeup artist!y/n ft vernon

genre. fluff, secret relationship

word count. 1.7k

released. 03.26.2023

author's note. feedback is appreciated! this is so funny to me because im pretty sure i can count the number of interactions vernon and jeonghan have had on one hand

masterlist

“Where’s Jeonghan?”

There’s an urgent lilt in the stage director’s voice as it booms around the crowded, high-tension salon space. 

You’d typically roll your eyes. God forbid Yoon Jeonghan stays still for just a second. 

As the notice of his going missing sinks in, the atmosphere becomes frantic. The sound of rustling grows loud and overbearing—people begin to fly around the messy space, trying to organize and give last-minute touches to the rest of the group; a few managers had already walked out the door without a second thought, going to go search.

“That idiot,” you murmur, eyebrows pinched together. 

Jeonghan has always had the tendency to wander. It’s just a product of restlessness, and it's always been a fairly harmless habit, but this space isn’t one that’s familiar like a music show; it's the first stop on the world tour—where the venue is completely foreign to both the members and the staff—and if he doesn’t show up in the next ten or so minutes, it would not end prettily.

Vernon, whose base makeup you were touching up, eyes you curiously. Your movements had faltered considerably upon the director’s shout, going from precise, aggressive beats against his face to uncharacteristically soft, unsynchronized taps.

He watches your unsettled expression with slightly squinted eyes—but he doesn’t say anything, simply averting his gaze to his reflection.

The soft, worried mutters of the other members paired with the worked-up exclamations from the different staff fill your ears until it grows unbearable. You can't take it anymore.

You find yourself only giving Vernon a few more quick taps before muttering a faint “you’re all set”, tossing the beauty sponge haphazardly onto the cluttered countertop. You hear a thoughtful “thank you” come from him before you bolt across the room and out the door.

The lingering uncertainty of Jeonghan's whereabouts must be messing with your senses, because the grey halls feel even more obscure than before—they're seemingly never-ending as you twist and turn around the venue, the only times you stop being to peek down corridors for the silhouette of a person.

Your legs begin to ache from how fast you’re walking, but that pain fades as you finally catch sight of a figure in one of the waiting areas, leaning against the wall next to a vending machine.

“Jeonghan-ssi!” you call out immediately, striding towards him.

The man’s head looks up from his phone screen, warily looking around. Realizing it was you that was coming towards him, he pockets his phone before peeling himself off the wall and going to meet you halfway.

You stop a few steps away from him, eyes scanning over his build as if to check for any accidents. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but everyone is looking for you, you have to be on stage really soon-”

“Y/N,” Jeonghan murmurs, cutting you off. “Y/N, it’s just us. Stop talking like that, you sound so cold.”

Your eyebrows furrow, but when you realize what he was referring to, you grow quiet.

When the two of you got together, you made it clear that you wanted to remain professional. Jeonghan is your coworker, and so, you treat him as such–you keep speaking to him with formalities and interact with him only when necessary, trying your hardest to not drop any sort of indication that you have a more intimate relationship with him.

Even if other people knew about your relationship, you still think you’d like to keep your work and personal life wholly separate. You think it's just more simple that way, and you don’t want to become someone who seems unreliable.

It strikes you that you had been speaking to him formally, and even after realizing it, you don’t know why you still find yourself unable to slip into a more casual persona.

Maybe it’s because he was in his stage outfit, all made up and styled to perfection—or maybe it’s because the setting of a waiting room is one you associate so heavily with work—either way, you find yourself keeping a small distance from him, hands at your sides with the same indifferent, borderline stern expression on your face.

“Come back to the salon, please,” you say sharply before turning away.

Jeonghan winces. He encircles his fingers around your wrist to stop you from walking away any further, the gentleness of his touch contrasting the edge of your tone.

“You're so mean…”

His grip on your wrist makes you turn back around, looking at him with curiosity. Your eyes widen at the sight of an unfamiliar expression painted on Jeonghan’s face—one that’s slightly forlorn.

“Call me Han, or something. Please. I need you to ground me,” he whispers.

He’s laughing—his voice still has the teasing charm that’s always present whenever he speaks—but you can’t help but notice the small amounts of desperation that seep through.

Taking a few steps forward, you’re now much closer to him than before. You remove his fingers from around your wrist, and after a little hesitation, you slowly interlock your fingers together.

Immediately, Jeonghan squeezes your hand tightly, the tension leaving his body as soon as he feels the smoothness of your touch. He brings your interlocked hands up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

You freeze. The idea of PDA in a work setting makes you uneasy—but, you put that aside to focus solely on Jeonghan, because something was clearly bothering him.

“What’s wrong, Han?” you ask, much softer than before.

Jeonghan’s head hangs down as he chuckles meekly. “Nothing. It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not. Stop downplaying yourself. What’s wrong?”

“I just- I’m nervous, baby.”

The pet name slips out naturally, but you barely register it. “It’s been a really long time since we’ve been on tour, and we’ve never been to this city before… I don’t know if anyone will like my performance? Like-”

“Shhh, Han,” you shush, tentatively stroking your thumb on the top of his hand. 

“It’s fine to be nervous. I’d be surprised if any of you weren’t nervous,” you say jokingly, rolling your eyes. You don’t notice, but Jeonghan's gazing at you with fondness, his lips threatening to quirk up.

“But what’s not fine is for you to think that no one will like your performance. You’re such an incredible performer, Jeonghan," you say, eyes shining. "Maybe even my favourite performer, but you can’t tell Mingyu I said that.”

Jeonghan scoffs dramatically, ripping his hand out of yours and crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Maybe? You’re breaking my heart, Y/N,” he chides.

A melodic laugh bubbles from you, and Jeonghan tries his absolute hardest to not break into a massive smile.

Jeonghan doesn't mind the distant, formal dynamic the two of you have during work. He, too, has an image to maintain and wants to be professional—though he won’t deny that he wishes he could see you like this more often: eyes crinkling in delight as you laugh at his antics. It suits you better than the serious expression you wear when you do his makeup, he thinks.

Jeonghan doesn’t try to stop you when you reach for his hand, taking it in yours again.

“But seriously, you’re great. Listen, they’re all there for you,” you say, looking up at nothing in particular as you listen to the muffled roars of fans singing along to the music videos that play before the concert starts.

Your sincerity is too much for his poor heart, and Jeonghan finds himself grinning widely.

“I suppose they are,” he mutters, making you laugh.

A silence falls over the two of you, before it’s broken by Jeonghan.

“Thank you,” he whispers genuinely. "For always supporting me."

You don’t say anything in return, only giving his hand one final squeeze before detaching yourself from him and beginning to walk away.

Though, you only make it a few steps before you’re frozen in your place. You're looking at something that makes your eyes widen and the wires in your brain snap.

Leaning against the threshold between the waiting area and the hall, arms crossed and a the ghost of a smile on his face, is Vernon. 

Jeonghan comes up behind you and, though he isn’t nearly as stunned as you, blinks in confusion at the sight of his member standing there. 

“Oh, hey man. What are you doing here?” he asks nonchalantly.

The younger shrugs. “You’ve caused quite the riot, hyung. Everyone’s looking for you."

Vernon pushes himself off the doorframe before directing his gaze to you. “So this is why you were so worried about him,” he wonders aloud, an amused glint in his eyes.

Words refuse to come from your lips as your jaw hangs open. All you feel is Jeonghan putting his annoying yet warm hand on your waist, giving it a small, excited squeeze.

“Worried about me, hm?” your boyfriend teases. You don’t even have it in you to shoot back, only turning your head away from him to hide your quickly burning face.

“How long?” Vernon suddenly muses.

“About half a year. You think she hates me yet?” Jeonghan jokes, though his eyes are half-lidded as he affectionately looks down at you.

"Seems like it," Vernon responds, chuckling. "Hey- is this why you sometimes don’t come back to the dorms?”

The younger's eyebrows shoot up as the realization dawns on him, breaking the signature, neutral expression he always wears. He's impressed. "God, we've just been thinking you, like, get drunk and blackout on the road or something."

Jeonghan throws his head back, the sound of his loud laughs ringing through the air. “Yeah. But don’t tell anyone- no one else knows.” 

Vernon whistles lowly, before bringing his hand up to mime sealing his lips and throwing away the key.

Your shock has somewhat subsided, and when you suddenly remember why you were in this situation in the first place, you gasp. “Oh my god, you guys have to go. Now.”

Even as you practically throw him off of you, the smile seemingly can’t be wiped off your boyfriend’s face.

Jeonghan can’t stop thinking about your shining eyes and the shade of red that tinted your cheeks, even as he walks away.

[danveration]

Heyy <3 it's actually my 20th birthday today 🥺 and sadly my family doesn't really care about that ... could I maybe have a scenario with alastor on his lovers birthday and how he cheers her up because her birthday is kinda a sad day to her? It would mean so much to me :(

hi :) first of all, happy birthday!! i’m so sorry your family doesn’t take the time care about it. 20 is is a big accomplishment:) you should feel very proud of yourself. And of course, I’ll try to whip something up! I hope you enjoy it ❤️❤️

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: It’s your birthday but you’re pretty upset about it. But Alastor is there to comfort you.

You’re sitting on your shared bed with Alastor, trying to not get caught up in all the bad thoughts.

It was your birthday today and you’re not quite fond of them. It was a sad day to you. You weren’t looking forward to today.

You hear light knocking on the door and then Alastor steps in. He looks at you all in the dumps and can’t for the life of him figure out why.

“Dearest?” He asks, leaning on his cane and tilting his head. He is wearing his usual red suit but he has one of those cone birthday hats on, even though Angel and Husk made fun of him all of this morning, he’s still keeping it on for you.

He knows today is your birthday and, as the gentleman he is, planned a whole day is extravagant activities! He had all your favourite foods and desserts in the kitchen. He made them all from scratch for you, knowing you love his cooking.

You look up at him as tears start to form in your eyes.

Alastor’s eyes widen a bit and his heart aches. He rushes over to you and immediately takes you into his arms and holds you.

“What’s the matter, fawn?” He asks in a gentle tone. His radio voice being music to your ears.

“I just..” You hiccup, trying not to sob.

He understands now that birthdays may not be the best for you, and shushes you, holding you tighter.

“Shh, it’s alright.” He pats the back of your head and starts, “I know this day may not be the brightest for you, hm? I understand it may be difficult. But I want you to know something..”

He pulls back and looks at you, putting his hands on your cheeks and smiling. Not an ounce of dis genuine-ness coming from him.

“I am here. I’m not going nowhere, Y/n. It doesn’t matter what happened in the past or what any wretched person made you feel this way about your birthday. Whatever happened, it doesn’t have to be that way, hm?” He says, smiling at you.

You smile at him lightly and nod.

“Now! how about we celebrate this day instead of feeling bad?” He proposes. He gets up quickly and puts his hand out in front of you to take, with his cane in his other hand.

You’re still pretty sad, but Alastor is right. You sniffle and take his hand. Instantly feeling comforted.

“Now, my dear.. I prepared some lovely things for you and planned out our day to a tea! You’ll forget about all the sadness in no time!” He says, happily.

You walk into the kitchen area and gasp. He has made all your comfort foods and favourite foods/drinks that you don’t even remember telling him about. There’s a ribbon that goes across the room that says “Happy Birthday Y/n!” with his handwriting. On the left tables, there’s presents from him and the other residents of the hotel, a stuffed animal deer, and in the middle of the kitchen on the main table, there’s a cake that says happy birthday aswell.

He looks down at you and says, “I hope you like it.”

You immediately hug him, wrapping your hands around his waist.

His heart swells. He hopes he can make this the best day ever for you. And if you feel bad again, he will make sure to comfort you without even blinking an eye. He loves you dearly and he won’t let any silly thing ruin his lovers mood. He’ll be here for you today and every other day to come.

A/N: Also, Alastor wants to say something to you. (Play the video underneath)

[bwabys-scenarios]

Hi! Can I request more of chubby!wife with Feitan? Some comfort please and spicey stuff. Thanks you!

Sweethearts

Feitan x Chubby!Reader

warnings: creampie, pussy eating

A/N: this is old so I’m banishing it from my drafts!! it’s a lil rushed, sorry!

taglist: @desiray562 @lovelyxkazuha @ashdownunderscorebeloved

if you would like to be added to the NSFW taglist, comment a ❤️!! make sure you have your AGE in your bio, and that you’re able to be tagged/mentioned!

It had been a tough day for his poor little wife, he could tell by her aura.

Usually when Feitan got home, especially after a long mission, (Name) was jumping up to greet him, the man catching her in his arms and spinning her around while planting a kiss on her forehead.

But that morning when he finally returned after being away for a week, his wife was nowhere in sight. He could sense her, thankfully, but she hadn’t left their room to greet him this time.

“(Name)?” Feitan called out, knocking on the bedroom door.

“Come in sweetheart.”

His heart fluttered at the pet name. They had only been together a year or so, and he was still getting used to how affectionate she was.

Feitan opened the door and peered in, seeing his little wife curled up underneath their comforter, her eyes puffy and red. He was quick to sit next to her, running his hand over her air. “Cry? Why cry?”

Her lip quivered as she looked up at him, and his heart hurt seeing her so upset. Usually, (Name) always had a pep in her step, smiling as her soft hips swayed to music no one else could here.

It’s why he fell in love with her, she was kind and nice to be around, always there for him despite his short comings.

“I… had another bad day at work…”

He scowled behind his jacket. “What this time?”

She looked away, rubbing at her teary eyes. “That woman… m-my coworker keeps saying such mean things to me. I don’t know what I did to get on her bad side but she won’t leave me alone…”

Feitan’s grip tightened on her, causing his little wife to yelp. Upon her little yelp of pain, he eased his grip, kissing her forehead. “She stupid, jealous woman. Can’t stand to see you happy.”

(Name) nodded slowly, the dark haired man moving his hand down between her legs. “Beautiful wife, make you feel better.”

She squeaked when his fingers slipped beneath her panties, rubbing her plump pussy lips before finding her clit. “F-Fei, ahh!”

He shushed her, pulling his wife into his lap to make his actions easier. Even after being married for nearly a year, she was still so shy when it came to intimacy. Feitan didn’t mind though, it was cute to him.

“Wet already, wife needed some attention. Give it to her.”

He purrs against his neck, pulling his fingers from her pussy and shoving them in her mouth. (Name) whimpers against his fingers, lapping up her juices and sucking gently. “Good girl, deserves reward..”

Feitan pushed her onto the bed, prying her thighs apart and slotting himself between them. It had been nearly two months since he got to see his beloved wife under him like this. “Gorgeous…”

He tore her underwear off, lifting up her shirt just enough to see her boobs as he thrusted into her. He loved the way she bounced and jiggled when he pounded into her soft pussy, it made him cum pathetically quick if he didn’t pace himself.

“No listen to work women, listen to husband. I love you, don’t need anyone else.”

“Y-yes Fei!”

He always enjoyed watching her come undone on his cock, and despite having a hard exterior, Feitan was rather soft for his wife. “Cum for me, (Name).”

She came around him, squeezing his cock. He found himself spilling inside of her soon after, collapsing into her soft chest. “Mmph…”

He could really get lost in her soft, plush body. It was what attracted to him so much next to her sweet personality. (Name) panted beneath him, hugging him. “I love you too, Fei… thank you, I feel a lot better now.”

And that’s all he could want, his wife happy and satisfied. At the end of the day, Feitan truly was a good and loving husband, even if no one besides (Name) knew it.

[bugboioli23]

Swerve x Human!Reader

Disclaimer: I haven't written fic for a few years so my skills are gonna be a bit shit to be honest, any criticism is welcome and id love to hear what you guys think 💚

THIS IS 18+ - size difference, valveplug, oral sex, fingerfucking, doggy style, riding - 2911 words - AFAB reader but no pronouns are used

You and Swerve had been friends since you stepped foot on the Lost Light. Something about his chatterbox personality and sitcom-like humor had you beaming whenever you were around him. The best nights were spent perched on the edge of the bar counter, rambling for hours on end with Swerve. Tonight was one of those nights. It was after the doors had closed, the bar empty and silent aside from the laughter ricocheting from the both of you. 

“Really?!” You yelped, eyes wide in surprise as you stared at the grinning minibot.

“I'm telling you! You wouldn't believe the amount of mechs who come by here asking for you!” Swerve replied with a chuckle, shaking his helm in shared disbelief. “Not only that but they actually think they could frag you! I'm probably one of the few bots on here who could frag you full sized.” Swerve paused, face freezing for a second as he quickly backtracked on his statement. “I mean- not that we would- NOT THAT I WOULDN'T WANT TO- I'm sure you’d make a lovely frag- NOT LIKE THAT- I JUST MEANT- im sorry- ” Swerve seemed to shrink in on himself as he continued to mumble to himself anxiously.

Your face burned red at the idea. The thought of a bot being stuffed between your folds, trembling at the foreign sensation of the wet flesh of your cunt. You wondered about the anatomy that laid hidden under the panels of your metallic friends. How similar are you compared to them? Just how compatible are your species? You already had gotten an enlightening talk from Brainstorm about Cybertronian anatomy after you explained human anatomy to him. (For his holoforms of course. No other reason.) You knew what you could take, but the fresh reality that this could happen left blood rushing south. 

“Uhm…  ____? You good? I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, I’m sorry.” Swerve looked at you apologetically. His light pout and the puppy eyes you could barely see behind his visor brought forth images that made warmth surge through your body once more. How would Swerve act if you asked him to fuck you? He seemed like the type of Cybertronian who wouldn’t mind a little experimenting with humans. He seemed like the type to whimper; the type to beg. 

Heat flushed through your face as reality caught back up to you. You flashed him a bright smile and waved your hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m alright. Just thinking.” You glanced at Swerve, who looked unconvinced. “Hey, weren’t you and Blurr going to open a bar before you came here?” You asked out of nowhere, hoping to turn his attention onto something else. It seemed to work because he was already telling you about how Blurr was secretly his best friend. While the bartender was distracted, you let your thoughts turn back to the ideas at hand. You found Swerve to be adorable, the way he seemed to always work with a smile despite people talking poorly about him. His fascination with your species’ tv and music and how he would light up when you offered another film for movie nights. After tonight’s conversation, you decided it’s now or never to shoot your shot with him.

“Swerve?” You looked him up and down with a smile, interjecting his speech on Blurr’s latest record break. “Do you think fragging a human would be possible?” You spoke sweetly, letting your voice fall an octave to emphasize your intentions. 

“Uhm, wouldn't Ratchet be better at answering that than I would?” Swerve thought he was hearing things. In his mind there was no possible way that you just asked what you had asked. His head must've made that up. It had to be some kind of self inflicted auditory hallucination. The way you smiled softly and rested a hand on his arm before leaning closer must also be a trick of the optics.

“Swerve, darling. I asked you for a reason.” You replied coyly, glancing up at him with an endearing grin. He felt his intake hitch and a sliver of charge run down his frame. 

“Oh.” He choked out, face tinted with the rush of energon. His cooling fans kicked on with just the mere suggestion of what tonight could entail. “I- I suppose we could- figure it out…” He grinned shyly.

“That’s a good mech.” You purred, wide grin never faltering as you hopped down from the counter. You sauntered out of the bar with a new sense of confidence, only pausing to gesture to him to follow before the doors closed behind you. Swerve had to take a minute to collect his thoughts before practically sprinting after you.

Your habsuite was uniquely modified for your species. Instead of a hard metal berth, you had a cushy soft bed adorned with a mass of plushies, pillows and blankets. Soft lighting glowed from lower points in the room instead of one harsh light from above. It had your special charm to it, and Swerve wanted to spend every moment he could in there with you. 

“So,” You started plopping yourself down on the edge of your bed, patting the spot next to you, “I’m going to skip all the pleasantries here, I want you to fuck me.”

Swerve let out a whine, feeling a surge of arousal flooding through his systems. His spike pressurized quickly, becoming heavy behind his panels with an embarrassingly loud thud. “Did you have to be so bold about it?” He hissed through clenched dentae as you gazed at him with desire. 

“I think it’s more fun to watch your reactions.” You hummed contentedly before climbing into his lap, “Can I kiss you? Would that be okay?” You spoke softly, but your eyes never left his face. Swerve nodded hastily, servos hovering above your body anxiously. His intake opened to start a flood of questions but you cut him off with a kiss, exploring the foreign texture of his pliable metallic face. The strange rubbery feeling of his glossa felt wonderfly new against the soft muscle of your tongue. You let out a soft noise of pleasure against his mouth before you were interrupted by a snap of panels retracting and an enticing pressure laying heavy on your thigh. 

“Oh- Slag, sorry I- you’re so- I wasn’t able to-,” Swerve began, but you pressed a finger to his lips as you looked down to study the new part of him. It was about 8 inches long, the red tip of it already leaking prefluids. It was mostly white, with a stripe of red along the underside decorated with biolights which pulsed needily. You trailed your hand lightly along the length, your fingers barely unable to touch around the girth of it. You looked back up at Swerve who was hiding behind his servos, face tinted pink with energon. 

“Listen… I know I’m not as big as other bots but please… don’t stop whatever you were planning to do.” Swerve mumbled shyly, peeking at you between his digits.

“Oh, hun. You don’t have to worry about anything. You’ve got more than enough for me to enjoy.” You smiled, sliding off his lap to kneel between his legs. “May I?” You asked, wanting to explore his anatomy further. 

He let out a shaky exvent with a nod and you ran your fingers along the grooves and panels of the Cybertronian anatomy. It wasn’t until you had gotten eye level with his spike that you had noticed his valve. It was dripping with transfluid and the hooded node was glowing a beautiful blue. You looked up at him from your position, eyes full of lust. 

“Change of plans. Lean back for me, I’ve gotta taste you.” You purred, firmly pushing against his midsection lightly as he rested his back against the wall of pillows. You gently pushed his thighs open and trailed two fingers against the slick folds of his valve, coating your fingers in the sticky substance. You studied your digits before popping them into your mouth. The pink fluid was metallic and sour, but addicting in a strange way. You wanted more. Spreading his folds with one hand, you delved into his valve. Swerve watched, entranced by the way you slid the flat of your tongue against him. The sensation made him let out soft groans, which encouraged you more. You took your other hand and gently circled his anterior node, ghosting the edges of it teasingly. Your tongue dove into his entrance and you felt the inner calipers twitch and throb with need. 

“Oh frag… you’re good a-at this. I’m- hnghh… I don’t have enough stamina for t-this!” Swerve whined as you moved the hand separating his folds and you backed away from his plush valve.

“Don’t worry, you are doing so good. Just lie back and let me take care of you, okay?” You cooed and went back to lapping at the transfluid that fell from his folds. One hand finally gave his anterior node pressure while your other hand went up to stroke at his spike lazily. The result of your combined actions had Swerve clawing at the sheets, his intake falling open as he gasped and mewled out so many words you couldn’t tell what he was saying until it was too late. 

Warm fluid gushed over your face as he overloaded while you were still tongue deep in his valve. His spike throbbed in your hand as you felt more transfluid land in your hair and shoulder. 

“FRAG- Ah- hah…!” Swerve whined as his frame trembled through the aftershocks. “Oh slag im so sorry!” His visor came back online just in time to witness your mouth and jaw covered in dripping pink fluids.

You licked your lips and wiped your face with your shirt before taking it off and tossing it aside. “Hey.. hey no worries. It’s okay. You’re okay.” You kissed his cheek, patting his thigh softly. “You did amazing. I’m so glad I could make you feel good.” 

Swerve let out another high whine, seeing your chest bare before him. He slowly raised his servos to graze the flesh around your nipples. You sighed softly and raised your hands to press his servos more firmly to your skin. Swerve was still panting from his previous overload but he leaned in to press his lips gently against your sternum. His servos wandered up to press and massage at your nipples, circling them like you did to his node earlier. Your back arched, pushing your chest further into his servos as your mouth fell open softly. Swerve looked up at you, visor glowing with excitement and awe. “You’re stunning. I mean- frag, look at you, coated with my overload. Mine…” He breathed out, eyes trailing down your body to rest at your pants. He seemed to swallow before shakily continuing. “D-Do you still want me t-to..you know.. t-”

“I still want you to fuck me, Swerve.” You finished for him, moving your hands to swiftly undo the buttons of your pants, pulling off your undergarments at the same time and tossing them behind you. You grabbed onto his wrist and guided his fingers up towards your wet folds. Swerve got the hint and gently worked one finger into the tight heat of your cunt. He could feel the gentle pulse and pull of your walls around his digit, and he could barely imagine what it would feel like around his spike. After he felt you loosen up a bit, he slid in a second digit. You let out a gasp and a soft groan at the stretch, knowing that this was just the beginning if you wanted to be prepared to take his spike. 

Swerve gently curled and flexed his digits, exploring your sex thoroughly as his processor worked overtime to memorize which movements felt the best for you. His audials turned to max sensitivity to be sure he could hear every whine and murmur of praise that fell from your lips. He could feel the second rush of energon repressurising his spike the more he pumped his digits into you. You glanced down between the both of you to smirk at his array before leaning in and pressing another kiss to his jaw.

“Awh, look at you,” You cooed, lifting your hips up to grind the tip of his spike against your clit. Swerve let out a strained whine as his hips bucked up involuntarily. Your smirk only grew. “You’re such a pretty mech for me.”

“Hnf s-stop…” Swerve whispered bashfully, turning his helm away as energon rushed to his faceplates once more.

“I mean it.” You continued, slowly easing yourself down on his spike as you guided his gaze to meet yours. Swerve’s intake fell open and his spinal struts arched as your body enveloped his length. His servos flew to your hips when he finally bottomed out inside you. The heat of your cunt pressed upon every sensor and node on his spike with such certainty that he could barely concentrate on your words. 

“Hhoh fraggghh, how are you s-so- so-ooHHFRAG-” Swerve had started to speak but you decided that now was the time to lift your hips and slam yourself back down. You started to ride the mech like an animal, your hips popping up halfway only to quickly push him back inside. Swerve let out a chorus of moans and yelps as his servos twitched against the soft plush of your thighs, squeezing every now and then to ground himself. It wasn’t until your legs started to burn that you were reminded of something. You quickly stopped your movements and grinned down at Swerve as he abruptly gasped and looked at you with a beautiful expression of desperation. 

“Wh-why- why’dya stop?” Swerve asked, his speech slurred from the sudden absence of pleasure.

“Sorry, but I just remembered that you’re the one who’s supposed to be fucking me.” You pulled yourself off of his spike and he let out a pathetic mewl at the loss of your body. His pout was quickly wiped from his face when he witnessed you getting down on all fours and slyly shaking your hips at him. You turned to smirk over your shoulder at him as he gawked at you. Not another second had passed before Swerve was on top of you, his spike easily finding its way back into your slick folds. He started pounding into you, the weight of his body pressing down nicely on your back as he mounted you.

“Mnh, there you go, good boy Swerve.” You moaned out as his spike pistoned in and out of you, shoving your body into the mattress. Swerve was brought to a mindless ramble as your pussy sucked him in deeper and tightened around him.

“Ahfraggingprimusyouretight-“ Swerve whimpered as you clenched around him harder. Your body trembled as you felt his spike throb inside you. Swerve hovered over you, intertwining his servos over your fingers as he thrust into you rapidly. “F-Frag, ____ I’m not gonna l-last much longer-“

“Good, keep going. I want you to fill me with your transfluid. Overload in me like the good mech you are.” You grinned against the mattress, turning to look at him smugly, reaching down between your legs to rub at your clit. Swerve leaned down to mewl and whine against the back of your neck as he chased his own pleasure, pushing your hips further up with every pump of his hips. 

“Fuck, Swerve- I’m-!“ You felt your eyes roll back at the drag of his thickness against your walls and you let out a filthy moan as you hit your climax. You felt the slick of your cum coat his panels as your sex tightened  around him. The whimper that left his vocalizer was angelic as he let his spike empty itself within you. Thick ropes of transfluid coated your insides, the warm sensation of sheer fullness bringing you back down from your high. Your body continued to pulse around his spike, milking him of the last of his overload as he gave a few final lazy thrusts. 

The two of you lay there panting for a while before he slowly pulled out of you, watching in awe as his cum started to slide down your thighs. You slowly turned and sat up, feeling your combined fluids seeping out of you and onto the sheets. 

“Ah… that was… let me get you a towel.” Swerve gasped, stepping to the closet to grab a towel to wipe you down with, wetting it with warm water before gently cleaning you. He lifted and placed you on the other side of the bed, putting the used towel over the wet spot after cleaning and closing his panels. 

You stared at the red and white mech with unveiled adoration as he finally sat next to you again. You leaned in and peppered his face with kisses as he gently rubbed your thigh. 

“Swerve, you do know how to keep your mouth shut about some things, right?” You murmured sleepily, hoping the bartender could keep his mouth shut for at least a week or two before word got out that the human is a mechfucker.

“Uhuh, yeah. Definitely.” Swerve nodded with determination. You sighed with a small smile, already accepting that your next appearance in the bar would not be the same after this.

[alexetbishop]

WISHING IT WAS ME

Pairing: Kate Bishop x reader

You see Kate kiss a boy. This will lead to confess your feelings for eachother.

Word count: 1.9K

————————————————————————

"Oh, come on," your hands fumbled with your tie, trying to get it right around your neck. "Stupid fucking tie." You mumble under your breath as your most expensive shoes were squeaking on the shiny floor of the lobby of a 5 star hotel.

Kate has invited you to one of the famous Bishop parties her mother organized. Well, she didn't actually invite you, she begged you to come, and you could never say no to those puppy blue eyes.

You didn't belong at all in these kinds of events, in the middle of spoiled rich people who only care about themselves and their million dollar cars.

Kate was an exception. When you met her two years ago, on the first day of college, you wouldn't have thought in a million years that she was one of those people.

She was hands down the kindest and most thoughtful person you've ever met. Even though sometimes she did act bratty and stubborn, thinking that she could do anything in the whole entire world, you still cared about her and wouldn't stop being her friend. If anything you wanted to be more than that.

You straighten your suit and take a big breath before opening the glass door that was separating you from the fake laughter and expensive champagne.

You looked around, searching for Kate. You immediately spot a black ponytail between a couple of people. You walked towards her, also recognising the long dark green dress she was wearing, having seen her try it a couple of days prior to the party. It seemed like she was talking to someone.

You quickened your pace. "Hey." You said before walking to her side.

Right there your heart shattered in million pieces.

She wasn't talking to someone. She was kissing someone.

The guy had his hand on her waist, pushing forward with his head as he just kept kissing her.

Kate stepped back from him when she heard your voice. She looked at you and the at the guy. "Y/N." She seemed surprised. "Hey, you came."

You're speechless. The sounds of all the chatter, the clinking glasses and the silky piano music fade away, a range of emotions going through your body, jealousy and hurt overpowering all the others.

"I promise you this is not what it looks like." She stepped towards you, reaching out an arm but you avoid it.

"What do you mean, babe?" The guy asked confused. "This is exactly what it looks like."

"Not now Henry." Kate snaps at him and looks back at you.

You look down, feeling the need to cry. "I- I'm sorry I have to go." You turn around and start to walk as fast as you can towards the exit.

You hear Kate shouting after you but you don't stop. Once you're in the lobby you start to run, trying to loosen the tie to not let the choking feeling bubbling up overcome you.

You just run, eventually losing your tie somewhere on the sidewalk. You run to nowhere in particular. At some point it even starts to rain and you get completely soaked.

Why did you even react like that? You and Kate were just friends. Yet, you felt like someone had punched you in the gut. Apparently your little innocent crush had become something much more bigger.

At one point your lungs were burning, so you stopped, crouching down to catch your breath. You looked up. Funny enough you were right in front of Kate's mum penthouse. In all New York you found yourself right where you didn't want to be.

Then you heard a voice calling your name.

You turned around, seeing Kate running towards you, her hair soaked, her dress sticking to her form, her shoes in one hand and your tie in the other.

"Hey, damn..." Once she approached you she placed one hand on her hip, panting. "You're very fast..." She chokes a laugh and takes a couple of deep breaths.

You stand in front of her, blinking away the drops falling from the dark sky.

"Why'd you run off like that?"

You stay silent. A lighting stroke, brightening the surroundings for a millisecond. A second later, a thunder rumbled. You flinched.

"We better get inside." She took you by the wrist, as you didn't seem to move from your spot, and dragged you inside. She greeted the door man and went straight to the elevator.

Once you entered the huge penthouse Kate brought you to her old room. She went to her wardrobe and took out some old sweatpants and what you figured was her high school archery team sweater, its back covered in faded letters that spelled out her surname and the front with the logo of her high school. "Here." She handed them to you.

"Thanks." You took the clothes. "I'll go to the bathroom for a second." You walked out of the room.

You splashed cold water on your face, even if it was still wet from the rain. You changed into the clothes Kate has given you, immediately feeling like you could fall asleep at any moment with how comfortable they felt. You take a big breath, looking yourself in the mirror, your eyes a bit red: you did cry after all.

You walked back to Kate's room, but she wasn't there.

"Kate?" You shouted, your voice echoing on the walls of the penthouse.

"In the kitchen!" She shouted from downstairs. You followed her voice and found her searching through some cupboards. She had changed into a loose T-shirt and some sweatpants. Some water was already rumbling in a kettle and two mugs were on the kitchen island.

"What kind of tea would you like?" She takes out a box full of different kind of tea bags.

"I'm okay with a simple black tea, thanks." You lean on the kitchen island. Kate placed a black tea bag in a mug along with three spoons of sugar. "Three spoons right?" She asked you.

You nodded. A warm feeling creeping up your stomach thinking about how she remembered a stupid little thing like how many sugar spoons you want in your tea.

"You're such a sweet tooth." She chuckles. You playfully slap her on the shoulder. And she nudges you with her hip as a payback.

She grabbed some chocolate, cookies and other sweets to go along with the tea. She waited for the water to boil, leaning on the counter next to you.

"He's not my boyfriend, you know." Kate speaks up after a moment of silence. "He-" She pauses, taking a deep breath. "My mum, she- she is constantly throwing these rich boys at me. So that when I finish college I'd be already settled and ready to start a family." She sighs and takes a piece of chocolate in her mouth.

"But you don't want that."

She shakes her head. "Nope. So thanks for running away. Like that I got an excuse to get away from that stupid party." She laughs, looking up at you.

"You're welcome, I guess." You crack a laugh too. At that point the kettle whistles and Kate goes to grab it, pouring it in the two mugs. "Thanks."

Kate took her mug, taking a sip of the hot tea. Silence fell between the two of you, the only sound being the heavy rain tapping violently on the windows.

She knew you were avoiding to talk about what happened at the party, since you were looking down, analysing the mug with a lot of interest.

So she took the matter in her own hands. "That kiss didn't mean anything to me."

Your eyes lifted up from your mug. "It didn't?"

Kate chuckled amused. "Of course it didn't. I don't want that douche bag. Or any other douche bag my mum made me go out with." She places the mug back down, turning her feet to stand in front of you.

She stares at you, opening her mouth and closing it immediately a couple of times, trying to understand how she should put her words. Then she takes your hands in hers.

"Y/N, you have to know that you're more than a friend to me." A beat passes. "And I think that it's the same for you given that dramatic exit you did earlier, am I right?" She lets out a single chuckle and squeezes your hands, gazing expectantly in your eyes.

You look up and only now realise how close Kate has gotten to you. The little freckle under her right eye that you daydreamed kissing first thing in the morning catching your attention. Your eyes traveled down, the gaze stopping at a little cut above her jaw, probably caused by too much archery practice.

You were so focused in analysing every little pore of her beautiful face when Kate snapped you back to reality. "Hey! You okay?"

"Oh. Y-Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." You nod.

"So what do you have to say about that Cinderella style exit?" You feel like she's teasing you now, mostly from her little smirk forming on her lips.

"Well-" You exhale deeply, preparing for the inevitable. "I was jealous." You mumble so quietly it would've been hard for Kate to hear even if she was inches away from you.

"What was that?" Okay, now she's definitely teasing you.

"I was jealous, okay?" You snap. Then you clear your throat, collecting your emotions. "I was jealous of you kissing that guy wanting it to be..." you trail off.

"You." Kate finishes your sentence. "You wanted to be in his place."

"Yeah."

"Then we should fix that, shouldn't we?" Kate's right hand travels up your side, stopping to cup your cheek. She waits for your ok before doing anything. And once you nod, her lips press softly against yours.

"That better?" She grins once she pulls back from the kiss.

You feel your whole body burn into flames. And after a second of composing yourself you decide that it's your turn to play with her. "No."

"Oh you want more?" She raises both her eyebrows, her hand still caressing your cheek.

You nod and with a dumb smile she leans forward again.

You're not sure if it has been minutes or an hour when you pull back. The only thing you know is that you're out of breath and in heaven.

Kate speaks up softly "That was..."

Before you could finish her sentence a loud thunder roars through the sky, making you jump and squeeze her hand hard.

Kate's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you scared of thunderstorms?" She's biting the inside of her cheek to not smile even more wider than she already is. She's not teasing you, well, maybe just a tiny bit.

"What? No. I'm not scared of-" another thunder and you jump again.

"Oh my god, you are." She laughs.

"Shut up." You lean your head on Kate's shoulder to hide the red growing on your cheeks.

"Make me." She lifts your head up by your chin.

So you make her shut up, by kissing her again. You still flinch when yet another thunder rumbles even more louder than the other, and break the kiss.

"Okay, okay." Her arms wrap around you, keeping your body safe and flushed against hers. "Wanna go snuggle under a blanket and watch a movie?"

"Yeah, that'd be very nice." She looks behind you, where the cups of tea, stay on the counter cold and forgotten. "We should make some more tea too." But before she detaches from you she can't help but connect her lips with yours for the fourth time. She already can't get enough.

And she will never get enough of you. Ever.

[simp4wom3n]

The Quiet One Pt III

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: After moving to New York with Tara to escape their past, y/n finds themselves desperate to keep her girlfriend safe, especially when a new killer is on the loose. ~ Word Count: 7.526k ~ Warnings: Scream VI spoilers, graphic descriptions of blood and gore, swearing (I think that's everything)

A/N: Hi!!! part 3 is finally here!! i'm sorry it took so long I have actually been so fkn busy its a lil painful I won't lie. This one also took a while to write so hopefully you guys like it - and yes there will be a pt 4 coming soon. &lt;3

Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 ~ Pt5

A packed frat party with dizzying lights and deafening music wasn't the typical place you chose to reflect, yet here you were, sitting on an old couch, drink in hand, dressed in a pirate costume with your fellow crewmate nowhere to be found.

Moving to New York was easily one of the better decisions you had ever made. Escaping the small town of Woodsboro that provided you with nothing but nightmares felt like a breath of fresh air. As a matter of fact, the only thing you were glad that Woodsboro gave you was Tara.

You had been dating since your shared 3-day nightmare over 6 months ago, and your relationship grew stronger every day. That was at least until something shifted. Something in the way Tara looked at you had changed. The usual squeal of happiness at the sight of you was replaced with an almost irritated sigh. Your presence becoming more of a burden for the girl than a blessing.

Sure, you were overprotective. How couldn't you be? She was quite literally all that you had left. Sam, Mindy, Chad. They were all there, but none of them knew you like Tara did. None of them loved you like Tara did.

After the two of you were Richie and Amber's 'pin cushions', you ultimately decided you were sick of being the loner that everybody could take advantage of. The small, insignificant girl that everyone laughed at and made fun of. The weak punching bag that gets stabbed and shot on repeat.

Instead of relishing every opportunity to be alone, you now practically hate to be alone, the horror of the attacks leaving deep and permanent wounds. You rarely distanced yourself from Tara. When being with her was impossible, going to the gym with Chad was your next best option.

Although you didn't see the point at first, you quickly realised that the extra muscle would not only help you regain the strength you'd lost due to your extensive wounds, but it would also improve your ability to protect Tara, or more specifically, beat the shit out of anyone who tried to touch her.

Unfortunately, your overbearing need to protect Tara landed you in this position. Painfully reminded of what should be by Mindy and Anika's cuddling less than a few metres away from you, you blankly stare at the array of drunk teens in front of you, singing and swaying to the music whilst probably eyeing up their next hook-up.

"You alright there, y/n?" Anika's sweet voice breaks you out of your drunken haze, your sour mood and distant stare evidently not as concealed as you thought. "Yeah, fine... I'm getting another drink" You chug the rest of your drink, the poorly mixed liquid burning the back of your throat as your face scrunches at the taste, before you push yourself up off the couch, not particularly interested in a drunk heart-to-heart conversation.

Stumbling your way through the crowd, mumbling "excuse me"s and "sorry"s to every person you bump into, you make your way towards the kitchen to steal what was left of the cheap liquor.

Your muffled apologies were cut off when a strong shoulder barged into you, almost knocking you off your feet. Your drunken gaze quickly turns towards the inconsiderate asshole who ran into you, your face scrunched in annoyance until your eyes catch a glimpse of a familiar bandana.

"Tara?" Her clearly intoxicated eyes met yours briefly as she was dragged through the crowds, her arm being pulled by a dude you presumed to be an egotistical frat boy. Every ounce of alcohol left your system as you sobered up instantly, your feet quickly following their trail despite having to shove past a few unhappy partygoers.

"Tara!" you exclaim as you catch up to them on the stairs, where Tara walks in front of the jackass, willingly leading herself into an inevitable death trap. Her head turns to face you, a look of disappointment on her face that you try to brush off. "She's good down here." You sarcastically smile at the boy, grabbing Taras's arm as you gently try to pull her back down the stairs.

"Come on, let's go" "No, y/n... It's fine, I want to" "Wha-" "See y/n... she wants to" The douchebag smirks as he firmly grabs ahold of Tara's other arm, forcibly dragging her up the stairs as she loses her footing. Her grunts of pain cause every last bit of your patience to evaporate as you run up the stairs after her.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" you yell violently, yanking him down the steps by the shirt. His back collides with the wall, forcing him to stumble before regaining his footing and charging towards you. "Get the fuck off of me!" he yells, but you hold your ground. "You want to go motherfucker? Ok." Tara's protests from behind you go unheard as you uppercut him hard in the chin, his head jerking backwards as he falls to the ground in agony, blood spilling from his lips.

"Touch her again, and I'll send you to the hospital next time", You threaten him, your eyes catching a glimpse of Sam appearing out of the crowd, a slight smirk on her lips at the scene in front of her - she loved the new you.

"Y/n?!" Your focus is stolen from your moment of victory as you turn around and are met with a furious Tara. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" She scoffed in disbelief, shaking her head before she carelessly pushed past you, her shoulder bumping into you.

"Dammit"

"Tara! Will you stop?" you called after her as she continued walking quickly away from you, the rest of the group following behind you. Was the punch a little overboard? Maybe, but at the end of the day, that dude had it coming.

"I cannot believe you did that.", she yelled at you, her tone laced with irritation. "That guy was a dick. He was going to take advantage of you!" "So?!". Your jaw dropped as she finally faced you, her face purely showing frustration. No sarcasm, no guilt, nothing. You couldn't believe what you had just heard. The thought of Tara consciously allowing herself to be dragged away by some guy that would undoubtedly take advantage of her, or worse, infuriated you.

"So?! What the fuck do you mean so?!" "Maybe I didn't care because at least I would finally get away from you!... I mean, look, y/n... you're looking out for me, I get that, I appreciate that, but you never leave me alone unless it is physically fucking impossible for you to be there... you have to let me go." Her harsh tone softened the more she spoke, perhaps realising the words that were falling from her mouth as she stared into your tear-ridden eyes.

"Let you go?" you grinned wryly as tears streamed down your cheeks. "How do you expect me to do that, Tara? I love you... You are literally all that I have left. You are all that I care about. I-I moved to fucking New York because of you, like... I-I can't."

Despite Tara's gaze softening at your cries, your heart cracked as you realised that you were hanging onto her by a thread. Uncontrollable sobs began to escape you as your hand attempted to keep them in. A mixture of embarrassment and guilt washed over you as you turned on your heels and ran off towards the apartment you, unfortunately, shared with the gorgeous girl you were running away from.

In times like these, you resented the fact that you shared a bedroom with Tara.

Before you ran away, you thought you saw a flash of guilt in Tara's eyes, a thought which helped somewhat soothe your racing thoughts as you verged on the edge of a breakdown.

She was right. She always was. You never left her alone, that was true, but you couldn't let her go. You just couldn't. It had been months since Dewey was brutally taken from you, and you still have nightmares about it. She knew that. She was the one who used to comfort you when you would wake up in a cold sweat, the pictures of Dewey lying dead on the floor fresh in your mind.

You used to think you had no love to give, but now it seemed you had too much.

The rest of the group had returned to the apartment shortly after you barged down the door with tears streaming down your face. You had taken cover in Sam's room, knowing that Tara would similarly seek the comfort of your shared bedroom once she got home.

When you heard the front door slam shut and the shuffling of footsteps outside the closed bedroom door, you shot to your feet as you checked over yourself in Sam's mirror, hoping to wipe away the remnants of your recent meltdown, the weight of Tara's words still pulling on you.

With one last deep breath, you turned the door handle slowly and softly, a slight creak escaping its worn hinges. When you poked your head around the corner, you noticed your bedroom light was on, and the door was wide open, which you took as a sign of Tara's presence.

Slowly padding softly across the wooden floor into the living room, you spot Mindy sitting on the couch as Chad and Sam move around the kitchen. Mindy's kind eyes land on your dishevelled figure as you sluggishly approach her, falling back into the sofa next to her with a distant look on your face.

"You alright there, matey?". Your brows furrowed slightly at Mindy's odd choice of wording before realising you were still in your pirate costume. You chuckled slightly as you wiped at your eyes, your head nodding subtly as you gave the girl a small smile.

You sat silently for a moment, the sound of cupboards opening and closing echoing from the kitchen as Chad appeared to be searching for something. "Go talk to her.". Your eyes shifted back to the girl sitting next to you, a knowing look on her face as she smiled at you gently. You glanced toward your bedroom, watching Quinn exit the room before Chad entered, closing the door behind him.

Your jaw clenched slightly as your gaze returned to Mindy, a hesitant look on your face. "I don't think that's a good idea." You spoke softly, knowing she was upset because you wouldn't leave her alone, so there was no point. "Oh, come on, you know you want to. Just go. Go, go, go." Mindy shooed you off the couch and towards your room, your eyes landing on the door as if you were about to enter your worst nightmare.

Your hesitancy to enter caused Quinn to beat you to it, opening the door suddenly, mumbling something about her phone. You stood back, waiting for her to leave so you could try and talk to Tara. Or at least that was your plan until you heard Quinrn say something that made your heart sink.

"Did I cockblock you?"

The rest of the conversation from the room didn't help as your eyes were welled with tears. What the fuck was Chad doing with Tara in your bedroom for Quinn to say that. You harshly bit your lip in an attempt to calm yourself, an attempt which failed miserably as Chad exited the room and saw you, his face immediately stricken with guilt.

"Fuck this"

Before he could put together some fake apology, you were already turning around and bolting towards the front door. Grabbing your jumper and keys from the nearby hooks, you slid your shoes on as you shakily undid the many locks keeping you trapped inside this godforsaken apartment.

Ignoring the worried look from Mindy, when you finally got the door open, you practically jumped out of the apartment and slammed the door behind you.

Sobs wracked your body as you ran down the decrepit stairs and out the door onto the dark street. You knew it was prime time for a Ghostface attack, but at this point, you were happy to be the live bait.

Dragging your heavy feet up the winding stairs, your energy has completely depleted after your last hour of wandering through New York's streets. You didn't even have the power to think coherently, your mind completely blank as you scaled the stairs towards your apartment.

After aimlessly staring at your feet as you trek towards your door, you only pick your head up once you reach the top of the staircase. The front door was wide open. An unfamiliar figure stood in the doorway watching the TV whilst what appeared to be your entire friend group watched with them.

Sniffling and wiping away the tear tracks from your cheeks as you stalked towards your door, you entered slowly and rounded the male figure, a person you now recognised as 'the hot guy next door'. You looked at him queryingly before your eyes scanned the rest of the room, everyone looking glaringly concerned.

When your gaze finally lands on the TV, your heart sinks as you read the headline. Another ghostface attack. "What the fuck is going on?" your voice causes everyone's heads to turn towards you, some of them unaware of your presence until now. Your posture shrunk even further as everyone glared at you - some were soft, whilst others were deadly.

"Where were you?" Tara asked, a mixture of anger and concern laced in her tone. You hesitated. You didn't feel like voicing to the whole room how you had walked around aimlessly whilst sobbing and attracting weird and worried stares from random people.

"Just on a walk. Needed some fresh air." Your voice was quiet as you spoke, your eyes never leaving Tara's. She noticed how red and puffy yours were, how tears had stained your cheeks despite your blatant attempt at hiding it.

"Impeccable timing", you heard Chad mutter quietly, probably thinking you wouldn't hear it. Your gaze shifted to him as you looked at him insulted. The fact that he was even insinuating that you could have had something to do with it made your blood boil.

"Pack a bag. We leave in ten." "Sam, wait, Sam!". Sam walked quickly into the kitchen, Tara hot on her tail. You were too focused on the idea that now, because of your sulking, everyone in this room no longer trusts you. Tara might not trust you.

With a blank stare, you drag yourself further into the living room before collapsing on the couch Tara had previously occupied. You instantly brought your knees to your chest and buried your head in them, tears beginning to resurface as it appeared the world hated you more than ever.

Surrounded by Tara's perfume, you tried and failed to wrap your head around the returning nightmare that was brewing. Not only were you losing your grip on your beloved girlfriend, but you were now likely about to face up against another psycho who wanted nothing more than to see your and your friends' bodies dead in the ground.

As Tara and Sam's argument migrated back into the living room whilst Quinn phoned her dad, the sound of Sam's phone ringing echoing through the room caused you to flinch, your body beginning to involuntarily shake.

When she hung up on the caller, you breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, your relief was short-lived, as you noticed Sam's face drop after she talked to Quinn's dad. She hung up the phone with a sorrowful yet determined look on her face, "I have to go to the station", she spoke as she moved to leave the apartment.

Before anyone could stop her, she was out the door, yet your eyes shifted towards Tara's sporadic movements as she searched for her jacket. "I'm going with her", she finally spoke after noticing everyone's questioning eyes.

As she reached the apartment door, she looked over her shoulder at you expectantly, almost anticipating that you would follow her. On any other day, you would, but at that moment, you selfishly decided that you were too hurt to follow after her.

After all, she didn't want your protection. Right?

You missed the look of disappointment on her face as you averted your eyes from her, instead choosing to focus on the TV. Clenching her jaw and nodding subtly, Tara turned back around and ran down the stairs after her sister.

You soon realised that letting her go was one of the worst decisions you had made to date.

They had been attacked. Of course, they had been attacked. The one time you let your emotions get the better of you, Tara almost ended up dead.

You knew the world hated you.

When you had gotten the call from Quinn's dad about the attack, you had never run so fast. You sprinted straight down to the station, desperate to see your girlfriend and make sure she was ok, even if she didn't want to see you.

When detective Bailey finally released them, you sat anxiously in an old and uncomfortable chair at the entrance to the station, your leg bouncing vigorously as your teeth dug into your bottom lip.

The sound of approaching footsteps caused your head to whip upwards, your eyes landing on Tara and Sam, visible injuries nowhere to be found on either of them.

You got to your feet quickly, standing impossibly straight as the girls finally reached you. You took a second to scan Tara, double and even triple checking that she was ok. That she wasn't hurt.

You wouldn't forgive yourself if she was.

Releasing a shaky sigh of relief, you softly nodded, whispering, "I'm glad you're ok", before turning on your heels and heading towards the door. Tara's face scrunched slightly at your behaviour, unsure why your usually confident and over-the-top personality was so... dull?

She kept her gaze on you as she followed you out the door, only to be surrounded by a bunch of reporters. Microphones and cameras were shoved in your face, and questions were hurled left and right.

You had to fight the urge to put your arm around Tara's shoulders, your head and heart at war as you still failed to comprehend how Tara felt. Whether she still loved you or not. Whether she would welcome your touch or not. You had no idea.

With the end of the sea of paparazzi finally in sight, you were seconds away from escaping until a familiar voice filled your ears.

"Gale Weathers. Channel 4."

The three of you simultaneously spun around with shock and disgust on your faces. "Do you ladies think you're the reason the Ghostface killer has come to the big apple?". You scoffed at her words, earning a raised brow from the woman.

Sam humourlessly chuckled in disbelief before you watched her swing a punch at Gale. The crowd of press gasped as Gale somehow dodged the hit altogether, a smug smirk making its way onto her face. "Nice try, sweetie, but I've done this dance before."

Your want to wipe that smug smile off her face was satisfyingly fulfilled as Tara punched her straight in the face, knocking her back as another gasp filled the air. You couldn't help but smile as Gale turned around, her mouth agape while holding her cheek.

"Stay away from us.". Regardless of your current problems, you had never felt more in love with Tara as she walked away without another glance in Gale's direction. The smile still lingered on your lips as you moved to follow the girls away from the cameras. To your dissatisfaction, Gale followed.

Listening to Gale try to justify herself for writing about what happened in Woodsboro all those months ago just made you more infuriated. 'Those fuckers can die in anonymity' is what she had said.

Yet look at her now.

When Sam mentioned what Dewey would think, you immediately tensed up, your gaze dropping to your feet as you sucked in a breath. Knowing that any mention of Dewey's name triggered you, Tara's gaze momentarily lingered on you before she returned to the conversation.

You zoned out of the rest of said conversation, only picking your head back up when Sam and Tara started to walk away. You watched as they headed towards a taxi while you began to walk back to the apartment.

"Y/n? Where are you going?" Tara's soft voice caused you to turn back, her eyes questioning you as her brows frowned slightly. "I-I was just gonna walk home... you kn-" "Get in." Tara interjected, earning a surprised look from you. "I-" "Y/n, get in the damn taxi." "Ok."

Just like before, she still had complete control over you. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't say no to her. You watched as the two sisters entered the taxi before you rounded the car and followed on the other side. With the three of you in the back seat and Tara in the dreaded middle seat, avoiding physical contact with Tara was impossible as your shoulders and thighs brushed against each other.

Nothing but the faint hum of the radio filled the backseat as the vehicle drove away from the station. This distance, or lack of it, between you and Tara, was both comfortable and unsettling. You hadn't taken your eyes away from her hand, conveniently situated on her thigh, barely inches from yours.

The need to grasp her hand grew too strong for you to resist, so you gently brushed her pinky finger with yours before proceeding to intertwine your fingers. You mentally sighed at the softness of her delicate hand as soon as it was within your grasp.

Holy shit, you had missed her touch.

With the back of her hand facing upwards, your fingers gently moving against her knuckles, you studied her scar, which had served as a daily reminder of what the two of you had gone through together.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there... I should've -" "It's ok." Your eyes finally met hers as she gave you a warm smile, reassuringly squeezing your hand. "But what if you got hurt?" "I didn't... that's all that matters." Your eyes had begun to water slightly, the guilt of letting her go resurfacing as you looked her dead in the eyes. She gently leaned in and kissed your cheek sweetly before allowing you to rest your head on her shoulder.

Maybe everything was going to be alright after all.

"Ok nerds, listen up."

Mindy's monologue. A staple of the so-called 'franchise' you were tied up in. The whole friend group gathered on the grounds of your college, preparing to hear the numerous rules that undoubtedly come with the new title of this fucked up nightmare you were all living.

"Rule one! Everything is bigger than last time."

Great. Already off to a fantastic start. As Mindy began to explain what that meant, you grew increasingly concerned, not for your own safety, but for Tara's.

"Rule two! Whatever happened last time, expect the opposite."

Even better. Now, It apparently made no difference whether you had gone through this once before or not. To be honest, the idea of a serial killer following the conventions of a movie was still absurd and utterly terrifying to you, knowing full well what kind of fucked up shit happens in horror movies.

"And Rule three, no one is safe."

If your heart wasn't already racing, it was now hammering out of your chest as the gravity of the situation became clear. Tara shifted next to you at Mindy's comments, evidently similarly disturbed by the new rules.

But what frightened you the most was what Mindy said next. "Any of us could go at any time... especially Sam and Tara.". You had never felt so sick. You could feel beads of sweat dripping down the back of your neck as you nervously turned towards your girlfriend, fear overtaking your features.

Her eyes met yours briefly with a matching look of concern as Mindy started listing out the suspects. You had to admit Mindy was really good at this whole monologue thing, naming all the apparent suspects and their motives with ease.

That was until she looked in your direction.

"And finally, y/n.". You looked at her with wide eyes before your head rapidly scanned everyone else to see if you were the only one who didn't expect this. "The jealous girlfriend of the Tara Carpenter... who is also now, apparently, jacked.". You shook your head in denial. There was no way this was happening.

"Mindy, w-what? How come I'm a suspect? I mean, I was there for Woodsboro like you guys were... w-why?" you said, gesturing to the so-called 'core four' completely confused. A sense of betrayal was beginning to rise within you as Mindy continued to look at you with an almost sympathetic smile.

"Never trust the love interest," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "And besides, you have literally nothing to lose." Your mouth fell open. You inhaled sharply to keep your tears at bay, the comment being a ridiculously low blow from someone who typically looked out for you. "No parents, no Dewey. Even before the Woodsboro attack, you had no friends."

"Mindy!?" you heard Tara protest from next to you, clearly upset by her words. You sat in silence for a moment, processing what Mindy had said, and as much as you hated to admit it, she was right.

"No... she's right," you spoke sadly as you nodded your head, "But that's also why it wouldn't be me. I love Tara. I couldn't do anything to hurt her... ever.". You could feel Tara's eyes on you as you stared at Mindy, practically begging her to believe you, not that it mattered, seeing you weren't the killer.

But as far as everyone else was concerned, it very well could be you.

You were still slightly shaken from the group conversation a few hours ago, the realisation that you had nothing to lose playing on your mind as you sat on the couch with Anika. The 'core four' were too busy laughing whilst preparing dinner in the kitchen, whilst you spoke drearily with Anika.

"Have you guys talked about it?" Anika spoke, referring to your fight with Tara the other night. She did her best to comfort and guide you through your suffocating thoughts, your heavy bags under your eyes speaking volumes after another sleepless night. "Not really, no." "Why not?" "I don't know... We haven't really had the time, but I'm also just scared to bring it up."

Despite your new tough(er) exterior, you were still just as soft on the inside as you were before your meek existence got flipped on its head. "Well, I know for a fact that she loves you, and you love her. Your Y/n and Tara, you'll power through." Anika speaks softly, a playful smile playing on her lips as your head bobs gently, letting her words soak in.

"Yeah, well. I sure hope so." You finally move your gaze away from the girl sitting across from you, your tired eyes now landing on the TV screen as the news plays. Just as you begin to relax and enjoy the rest of your night, a new headline flashes across the bottom of the screen, erasing any traces of joy from your face.

'Sam Carpenter Named as Prime Suspect'

"Um, guys?" you shouted from your seat, loud enough to reach the others in the kitchen, whilst leaning forward to grab the remote. Turning the volume up as you hear footsteps enter the room behind you, your face scrunched in confusion as a video of Sam plays whilst the reporter's words make her out to be a psycho.

You risk a glance behind you. Sam's expression was completely blank as the light from the TV flickered on her face. You felt bad for her. You truly did. You struggle to grasp the fact that your friends didn't entirely trust you, and here she was with the entirety of New York being told she was the killer.

You were so preoccupied with the idea that the news dared to make this a story that you didn't notice Tara's eyes shifting to you. Her gaze has been drawn to your worn face. Your ordinarily bright eyes were heavy and unfocused as you stared in bewilderment at the television. She felt terrible about what she said to you a few nights before, and her heart only broke when she discovered how much damage her words had caused.

When Sam hastily turned the TV off and left the room, Tara's eyes left your figure briefly as she watched her sister move to sit solemnly at the dining table. She sighed defeatedly, the effects of Ghostface on the two of you shining brighter than they ever had before. Tara spared you one last worried glance before she followed her sister out of the room.

Chad and Mindy ultimately followed the girls, leaving you and Anika in stunned silence. The air in the room became unusually silent, the old pleasant chat between the two of you suffocated by the apartment's new tension and terror.

You sunk deeper into the couch as you pulled your legs up to your chest, the thick air ultimately releasing slightly as the sound of laughter flowed through the living room from the dining area. Tara's laughter rang in your ears, a sound you had so desperately missed.

You thought you felt her stare on you earlier, but you were too terrified to face it, your conversation with Anika still fresh in your memory. You leant your head against your knees and slowly closed your eyes, the general sound of genuine joy filling your ears as your breathing slowed and your body relaxed for the first time in ages.

You take a moment, revelling in your newfound tranquillity, to think on the emotional rollercoaster you had been sentenced to ride. Tara's love for you had never been questioned, and it wasn't her you didn't trust the night you stormed out. You knew she'd never cheat on you (or so you hoped), but you were unable to avoid what was staring you in the face.

Both at the party and in the comfort of your own home, someone you trusted and some random frat boy had come disturbingly close to finally severing the thread on which you dangled from the end of. You were holding on to Tara with your life, completely and totally unwilling to let go.

You heard the laughter slowly die before a harmony of notifications dinged throughout the apartment. You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket as you and Anika exchanged a confused glance. Hesitantly pulling your phone out of your pocket, you blinked in numbed horror as a photo of Quinn being attacked by Ghostface opened on your screen.

With the previously unheard sound of groans and bangs filling the apartment, you and Anika bolt up from the couch as the others run into the room, eyes focused on Quinn's door. Tara runs towards the door, but you instinctively grab her arm and pull her back towards you.

The feeling of her skin on yours makes your heart skip a rapid beat. You attempted to hide how her touch had affected you as you stepped in front of her, happily offering yourself up to essentially be her meat shield.

Despite your scars burning at the thought, you would much rather be the one to get stabbed if it meant Tara would be ok.

The noises of a struggle ceased as you all stood frozen, your eyes locked on the bedroom door. The silence was deafening. Your dry lips parted in silent terror, unsure whether to breathe or to scream. A single drop of sweat slowly crept its way down your forehead, the suspense reaching an all-time high.

"Run."

You recoiled in horror as the door burst open, Quinn's mangled and bloodied body being thrown out. Anika let out a piercing scream as the body collided with her, taking her to the ground with it. You try to ignore the gruesome sight in front of you as you focus on helping Anika up off the floor.

"Y/n!" Your head whipped around at the sound of Tara's distressed scream. "Wait, Y/n! Come on!" You watched in horror as Chad dragged her out the front door, leaving the rest of you to try and fight off the killer that was standing in front of you.

"Shit. Tara!" When you had Anika back on her feet, you instantly tried to follow your girlfriend. If Chad were to have learnt anything from what you had gone through, you would think it would be to not split up. That is the number one rule in legitimately every horror movie.

"Rookie."

You made the fatal mistake of assuming they were foolish enough to allow another person to escape while scrambling towards the door in a rush to avoid the killer's gaze. The others in the room watched in horror as the masked assailant slashed their knife upward, slicing directly through your left eye.

A grotesque scream erupted from your chest as you fell back onto the floor. The left side of your face felt like it erupted in flames, a powerful throbbing, making it impossible for you to think as the world spun around you. With your good eye, you watched as a steady stream of blood poured out of your gaping wound, which spanned from your jaw and through your eyebrow.

The left side of your face was paralysed with pain unlike any you had felt before. You tried to apply pressure to it with your shaky hands, but the moment your cold fingers touched your split flesh, another broken scream escaped your lips as a wave of nausea washed over you.

Mindy and Anika's screams flew straight over your head as you kneeled on the floor, the taste of blood flooding your senses as the pool of blood underneath you grew wider by the second. You didn't notice Sam's arms hauling you up off the floor until her face came into your now-restricted field of vision.

"S-Sam," you sobbed, her eyes widening and her face turning pale as she saw your profusely bleeding wound. She didn't say anything as she carried your broken form into Quinn's blood-splattered room with Mindy and Anika. She let you go the moment you walked into the room, closing and locking the door behind her to keep Ghostface from following you.

The banging on the door shook the entire room as you worked hard to slow your breathing. As you stood up, the adrenaline in your system began to kick in, and the banging at the door ceased as Sam's troubled gaze met yours.

"Y/n! Bathroom door! Hurry!" Sam whispered desperately towards you as she maintained her iron grip on the bedroom door handle. Turning your head too hastily towards the door, your vision blurred from blood loss and genuine blood falling into your eye as you lurched towards it as swiftly as you could.

As you passed through the bathroom, your hands left bloody handprints on the walls, your journey delayed by the disgustingly disfigured body of one of Quinn's many lovers - you could never tell the difference. With tears dripping from one eye and blood from the other, you returned your focus to the open doorway.

As your eyes left the mangled body, the sight of the infamous Ghostface mask made you jump as yet another scream left your lips. Your reflexes were quick as you reached for the door, trying to close it before the killer got in, but in your weakened state, they easily pushed the door back open, knocking you back as you stumbled into Sam.

They took another swing at you, thankfully missing as Sam pulled you away before you lost another eye. The two of you quickly retreated into the bedroom before you successfully slammed the door shut. Mindy joined you in trying to keep the door shut by fiddling with the lock while Ghostface proceeded to kick it down.

The room shook violently as you and Sam pushed a dresser towards the door, hoping it would serve as a better barricade. Finally getting it in front of the door, you and Mindy stood firm as you continued to resist Ghostface's merciless attempts to tear the door down.

You could feel your adrenaline beginning to wear off as the paralysing pain returned to your face. Peering down, you noticed how your blood had stained a large amount of your skin a dark crimson colour. 'That's a lot of blood.'.

Scrunching your face in pain only caused another wave to hit you as you whimpered. "What are we gonna do, f-fuck." You whispered to yourself brokenly, closing your eye as you tried to ignore the fact you were being violently shaken by someone who wanted nothing more than to kill all of you.

With your only good eye shut, you failed to notice as Sam opened the window and pulled a ladder across from her boyfriend's apartment until she yelled, "You guys go first!". Your eye snapped open at her words as you took in what was happening.

You stayed silent as Mindy argued with Sam, eventually leading to Sam crossing the ladder first whilst you continued holding your makeshift barricade. Once Sam had crossed, Mindy looked towards you. "Go, Mindy.", you spoke assertively. She tried to argue with you, but you were having none of it. "Mindy, go! I've got the door. Just get across the fucking ladder!".

Despite your vision being impaired by your own warm blood, you watched with a ghost of a smile as Mindy and Anika exchanged a sweet kiss before Mindy climbed out the window. You suppose that was one positive about everything that was happening. As far as you knew, Tara was safe, and that was all you needed.

The banging at the door grew louder as Mindy cautiously climbed the ladder. Your frail body was being pushed around by the shaky door as you yelled furiously, "Mindy! "Please hurry!" When she finally made it to the other side, you groaned and turned your attention to Anika, who was bleeding out on the end of the bed.

"Anika, go.". Her wet eyes shot up to yours, looking at you as if you were insane. "Go, Anika. Please.". A few extra tears slipped from her eyes at your words, your complacency at being left alone to die hitting her harder than she expected. You gave her one final nod before she started climbing out the window.

Your grip on the door was slipping with each passing second, the constant banging and rattling eventually leading your feet to slip on the pool of blood that had accumulated beneath you - whose blood? Nobody knows. As you plummeted to the floor, the door shattered behind you, your gaze immediately moving to Anika, who was still less than halfway across the ladder.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." you mumbled desperately as you watched Ghostface finally stalk through the doorway with you in his sight. That was at least until he heard Anika's whimpers from outside the window, causing their masked face to follow her cries. Their head tilted menacingly as their path changed, no longer walking towards you but stalking up behind Anika.

You could hear her panicked cries from your place on the floor, and despite your natural relief that you weren't the chosen target, there was no way in hell you were letting them touch Anika.

You scramble to your feet as Ghostface stabs their knife into the window sill, grabbing the back of their robe and pulling them away from the window with every ounce of strength. As you swing your arm at them, missing their head and instead hitting the headboard, they stumble back into the bed with a grunt.

You didn't quite calculate how you would fight them, seeing you were basically blind, but that probably would have been a good idea.

"Dammit," you mutter worriedly as you trip backwards, your bruised knuckles doing no good as Ghostface stands back up and elbows you directly in your fresh, gaping wound. A hoarse scream escapes your throat as you collapse onto the ground in agony.

Your agonising screams could be heard across the ladder, forcing those on the other side to panic even more. When they saw Ghostface reappearing at the window, their shouts and pleading grew louder as they tried to urge Anika to come across.

Waves of pain shot through your entire body as you curled up on the floor, sobbing hysterically as you couldn't move no matter how hard you tried, absolutely paralysed by the pain.

As you tried to lift yourself off the floor, the sound of Anika's screams resonated in your ears, combined with the violent shaking of the ladder. At this stage, you were crying violently, knowing that if you didn't hurry up and get your shit together, Anika would be their next victim.

All because you couldn't handle the pain.

You leapt off the ground in a final fit of rage, lunging at Ghostface to throw them off-balance until they eventually backed away from the ladder.

It wasn't until now that you noticed the lack of Anika's screams.

Your face paled as you briefly looked out the window. Your blurry vision was met with a glaringly empty ladder and a completely distraught Mindy. Your lips began to quiver as your eyes met Mindy's, the tears that fell down her cheeks telling you everything you needed to know.

Your heartbreak quickly turned into pure rage at yourself and Ghostface.

Your breathing grew thin and ragged as you turned back to the tall black figure, your body shaking with rage. You could almost feel their arrogance from where you stood, evidently relishing seeing you distressed.

They ripped their knife from the window sill before tossing it playfully in their hand. You, on the other hand, remained unfazed, solely concerned with the idea that this mother fucker was going to suffer for what he had just done. You rapidly ducked as their knife swung towards your head before smashing your fist into their masked jaw, their shrouded form staggering backwards at the impact.

"You. Fucking. Asshole." You spoke as you continued to throw punches at them, your rage fuelling every last bit of energy you had left. Ghostface appeared to be taken aback by your sudden outburst, at a complete loss as to what to do with their knife remaining useless in their hand as they try to protect themselves from your furious blows.

With one final punch to the face, their body crashed into the wall behind them, as they fell unconscious. With tears falling consistently down your face, you gave the killer one last look as you stood up and backed away towards the window (you never trusted them to actually be unconscious). The others began yelling your name in relief and desperation when they saw you, assuming you were dead after single-handedly defeating the madman.

Their calls broke you out of your rage-filled trance as you sucked in a large breath before looking across the ladder towards them. The pain was beginning to resurface as you felt your knees start to buckle underneath you.

"Y/n! let's go, come on!" Sam called out to you, desperation laced in her voice. You climbed out the window with one last glance at the body before you. As Anika's body came into view, you felt yourself holding back a gag. The sight of her body, combined with your weakened state, almost made you pass out and share a similar fate.

Your gentle whimpers accompanied you as you carefully climbed the shaking ladder, Sam and Mindy's beautiful voices promising you that everything would be OK - you had no option but to trust them. As blood flows from your agonising wound onto the ladder's rungs, you crawl with as much focus as possible.

Closing in on Sam's boyfriend's window, the girls both reach their arms out to you as they grab onto you and pull you into the apartment. The three of you collapse to the ground in a heap, clutching each other tightly as if one of you might slip away if the others let go.

"Tara and Chad are on their way", you heard Sam's boyfriend say as you continued to sob into her shoulder, her hands carefully avoiding your face. You remained in that position as you felt your body begin to go numb as your blood and adrenaline continued seeping from your body.

Feeling your body go weak, Sam pulls your head back gently as she goes to help you lie down. Mindy and Sam gently place you on the floor, lying on your back, your bloodied and distraught face facing the empty ceiling.

"Holy shit, y/n!"

Your girlfriend's distraught voice did not affect you as your single eye started drifting shut slowly. As blackness starts to encroach, you catch a final glimpse of Tara as she appears next to you, her face stricken with worry as her hands hover near your disfigured face.

"Y/n!?"

Tag-list:@nitchxhdc @emeraldevan @looseheartedlady @the-night-owl-blr @badassjaguar @txmxav @oh-thats-cute @blckrwidow @cacciatricediartemide @flaiire1805 @rainbow-love4ever @fall-08 @simp4nat @natashadeservedmore @livingforwaddams @alexkolax @ssinfulprayers @wifeyjennaortega@thenextdawn @zhasmindoesntknow @faunusrubyrose @harleyspunchingbag @yourmamacom@rockwyn @androgynouscloudenemy@padf00ts-l0ver @wol-fica @captainbeat @sophiexoxo-lol @perfectartisanwerewolf

[the-grimm-writer]

Dabi with a darling who's obsessed with her art, her art being ballet

Cue vantom of the opera music ballet addition.

Also, I'm genuinely so sorry this took so long. I'm getting better at answering requests, I swear 😭😭😭

Mdni

Tw: stalking, paranoia, mentions of unhealthy habits, kidnapping.

You were used to people staring at you. Their eyes glued to you with pure admiration as you gracefully glided across the stage, moving your body in ways that took you years to master.

But this felt different. You felt someone's eyes burning into you with such intensity that any normal person would've broken down from it. Yet if you were one to break, you would've never made it very far. So you continued your performance like chills weren't running down your spine.

Heroes were hard to please. The world's top elite, coming to the theater to watch you, dressed in their finest night apparel. But the moment you started, all their doubts would wash away, watching silently with fascination once the music started.

The crowd broke into applause once you finished your dance, standing up and yelling their praise. It always made those long, painful nights of practice worth it.

As you bowed, you looked up to the audience, your blood running cold as you saw bright blue eyes from the back, hiding away from everyone else. Like a ghost, only you could see.

By the time you get down to greet the audience and discuss your performance, the man with the glowing eyes is nowhere to be scene. You don't know why you look for him, going past the darkest part of the theater and peaking in to see if he's still there, watching you.

Even your walk is elegant, your posture is perfect, back straight, and head held up high. Your voice was soft and feminine as you spoke to the people as they congratulated you.

"That was a stunning performance, my dear!" A tall, balding man with round, thick rimmed glasses eagerly shook your hand, yet you could tell by his crisp black suit and the beautiful younger woman that looked to be in her mid twenties or early thirties that stood by his side looking at you that he obviously had money. "When will you be performing again?"

"I'm here every night, thank you very much."

You smiled like he didn't give you the creeps. One thing your master didn't have to teach you but were thankful that he did. How to keep your admirers happy while maintaining a distance from them.

It continued on and on. You knew most people who attended the theater were wealthy, but you didn't care. You had all you wanted right now. So even as they introduced themselves, you didn't bother to remember their names. Always changing the topic if one got too bold with you.

A dancer's career was like a star, your balletmaster used to tell you. Shine too bright, and it would burn out quickly.

That's what you liked about it being busy, not being able to stay and talk to one person for too long. So whenever someone made you uncomfortable, you easily excused yourself and moved on to the next person. Sometimes, it would last for hours until you were finally able to leave.

There was a continuous cycle in your job. After you perform, you'd go to bed, get showered then something to eat, and then rush back to the studio in the early morning to practice. It was your favorite time to do it. When the sun was on the verge of rising and it was still dark outside. You could practice in peace with no prying eyes to judge you.

Turning the lights on, you walked onto the stage, dressed in your practice outfit. Skin tight nude colored leggings, a black leotard with a small tutu connected to it, and pointe shoes you just recently replaced and broke in. Your hair up in a tight bun, completely out of your face.

Taking a deep breath, you stood on the center stage and got in position, pretending like it was an actual performance as you danced.

It was always something you reminded yourself of when you got the lead role in dances. And whenever you didn't get what you were striving for and it felt like your world was going to come crashing down.

Yet still, you would dance until your feet bled and you physically couldn't anymore. It was painful yet an addicting feeling each time you overcame a boundary you once had and turned it into a new move you mastered.

"Why did you stop?"

Spinning around, you were about to stop until you collided with a person. You were about to apologize, thinking it was one of the other performers or the janitor until he spoke up.

You gasped in shock, turning around and stepping back from him. Those cerulean eyes were something you could never forget. Ever since that night.

"It's you..." Fear twisted in your stomach as you looked at him.

He chuckled at this, casually stepping forward towards you. "I knew you'd recognize me."

"Dabi..." You said breathlessly. It wasn't difficult to know who he was when he was always on the news. Heroes' warning is to be on the lookout for a deadly villain litered in patched scars and black hair. He smirked, knowing you'd seen him before.

"The theater is usually the last place I'd hide in. Too many witnesses." He stepped forward, making you go back. "But those idiots didn't even notice me. Not that I could blame them. That was quite the performance you put on."

You backed away, and he could see in your costume that your body was stiff as a board. Trained to have perfect posture even when just having a discussion with someone.

"Those fools don't deserve you, you know." He spoke up, his voice low and raspy. "They'll do what they do with everyone that has a talent. They'll make you dance like a puppet until you break."

You were stiff as you stood there, watching him circle around you on the stage. "I know what I signed up for," you said softly.

His eyes narrowed. "Then you're just as foolish as they are."

"It's ironic, you know," Dabi chuckled darkly as he stood behind you, placing his hands on your waist. "My father... he always strived for perfection. But even his most precious creation isn't enough for him."

You didn't blink an eye at his cold tone. Used to getting degraded and talked down to whenever you messed up even the slightest in front of your master and the instructors. So brutally harsh it could make even the villains with the blackest of hearts cry.

"Surely you understand," you argued back. "To love something so much, you'll continue to do it even if it kills you."

Though you didn't have a strong or flashy quirk, you made it up in your abilities in ballet. Pouring your heart and soul into your performances so even the untrained eye would be able to tell you aere the best at what you did.

You touched him like the fire that was dancing in his veins. The thing that consumed him aside from his needs for vengeance. Though he knew that obsession ran deep in his genetics. It was just something he never thought would hit him until that night he first saw you.

"That's because perfection doesn't exist."

His breath hit the shell of your ear, hot just like the rest of him, yet it sent shivers down your spine. "Yet here it is in the form of a little dancer."

You could tell how bitter it made him. You understood the feeling well. Every ballerina knew how it felt to be rejected and pushed to the side whenever a younger, prettier dancer came in and took the place they spent years working to get.

"Were you ever warned?" He mused. "Some hero or fuckin rich pig with too much time on his hands could ever use their power and money to snatch you up?"

Of course you were, and you hesitantly nodded your head. Nobody ever thought it would happen to them until it actually did. Hell, Dabi bet his mother thought she'd never wind up in an arranged marriage with his father, abused and locked away in an institution after making her have four children with him.

"I'm my father's son, after all." His scarred hand ran down your smooth cheek, down your chin until it wrapped around your throat and pinned you against him, his other arm snaking around your waist. "Men like us, when we see something beautiful, we have to own it, keep it for ourselves."

"You don't have to be like him." You protested, your heart racing in fear. Dread filled you at the thought of him taking away everything you spent your whole life working for.

"And you don't have to be a dancer." He retorted. "Sometimes we don't have a choice in life (Y/n). Now you're coming with me."

You tried to pull away despite his hand wrapped firmly around your throat, threatening you. "No! You can't do this! I have to perform tonight. I have to-"

"This is a lovely place," he cute you off. "Something even I could appreciate." His grip on your neck tightened as he held his other hand out, making you watch as bright blue fire appeared out of his hand. "Such a rich history. It would be a shame if it all went down in flames."

You weakly nodded your head, bursting into tears as you looked at the stage, the theater, your home on last time as he let his flame die out. He picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. His strong arm held you in place with ease as he walked away.

"Don't worry," he said softly, his smile wide and twisted as you cried. "You can still dance for me."

[h4rring1on]

Steve x Reader where they get into a fight at a party & he leaves her there without a ride & she ends up getting hurt.

warnings: reader obvi gets hurt, swearing, reader is supposed to feel suffocated bc a lot is happening, its a bit graphic so if you’re squeamish don’t read thats it but please tell me if i missed something!!

ೃ༄*ੈ✩

you sat on the couch, watching as everyone partied, has fun, had drinks, and w were just enjoying their time which you certainly weren’t doing.

“hey” steve said as he approached you, “why don’t we dance”

“why don’t you go back to your little nancy, im sure she’ll be more than happy to” you snickered

“what? are you seriously jealous?” he said in a stern tone

“im not jealous, steve” you said and stood up, “i just don’t get how you spend time with her yet you’ve barely talked to me for fucking days”

“you’re doing this again, really?” he raised his eyebrows as if disappointed

“yes im doing this again—“

“i’ve been spending time with you! you’re just too focused on your stupid college admissions to notice it—“

“well excuse me for wanting a future”

“wow.” he said, “you’re actually bringing this up?”

“you’re the one who brought it up!”

“and you took that chance as soon as you got it didn’t you—“

“i didn’t—“ you sighed, “i didn’t mean it. i’m sorry, let’s just forget this—lets just go have fu—“

“no, im leaving” he said and walked away, you tried to follow him, joining the crowd

“steve” you yelled as you looked around, “steve!” you yelled again but he was nowhere to be seen. “steve” you said

it felt like the crowd was just sticking to you, like everything was closing in on you. like you were being suffocated. you turned in a circle as you took dee breaths while looking for steve but he was long gone

you could feel your heart rate increasing as everyone kept pushing you, you backed away to leave the crowd but got pushed to the hard ground, you felt a sharp pain, you looked down to see your arm with the bone sticking out

you let out a scream in pain, the music stopped and everyone looked at you, their eyes widening at the sight, someone quickly called 911 as another person helped you up

“oh my god!” chrissy, one of the cheerleaders and also a friend of yours said as she ran to you, “what happened!” she said

“steve” you groaned

“what?”

“steve! i need—“ you stopped to take a breath to suck in the pain

“you need steve? okay—okay just take a deep breath” she said, trying to calm you, she looked at the crowd that was just staring, “what are you waiting for?! call steve!” she yelled

sooner or later, the ambulance came and you were taken to the hospital, while you were in your hospital bed, steve was running inside the hospital, frantically asking which room you’re in, he quickly ran inside to see the cast on your arm

“oh my god—baby” he said as he ran to you and held your normal hand

“stevie” you giggled

he furrowed his eyebrows at how normal you were, until a doctor walked in

“she was in a lot of pain, we had to give her some medication, it feels like you’re being drugged, which could explain any abnormal behavior” he explained

“what happened?” he asked

“according to one of her friends, she had fallen and broken her arm”

“i was looking for you” you said, “but you weren’t there—some guy pushed me and i fell” you pouted

the doctor left so you two could be alone, once he did, steve hugged you tightly

“im so sorry” he said, “im sorry i left—im so sorry” he repeated

“its okay, love, you were mad” you tried to comfort

“i had no right to—you were right” he said as he let go and kept holding your hand, “i just—i was busy because i was just nervous…i hadn’t gotten my letter yet—i couldn’t tell you so i told nancy and she was trying to help”

“oh stevie” you held his face, “its gonna be okay, you worked so hard this year, im sure you’re gonna get accepted—and then you and i could go together” you smiled

“i hope so” he said, “but if i don’t—would you…forget about me?”

“of course not!” you said, “if you don’t go—i don’t go”

“no baby—“

“yes” you cut in, “it would be hard enough to go without you, id rather not go at all”

“peach…” he sighed

“you can’t do anything about it i already chose!” you pointed at him, “you looked so worried about me, you care about meeeee” you giggled

“of course i do” he chuckled, “i was crazy to leave you there, sweet girl”

“yes yes…very sad—but burger king would probably fix it”

“are you using my guilt to get food?”

“yes—now go before i break another arm”

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Heyy!! Can I request a Wandanat x daughter reader with Kate x reader? Maybe they are in uni and in a party. Kate and reader separate maybe to talk with some friends or just lose each other, and some guys try to abuse reader (yk drug her drink and then try to… ) then Kate rescues her. Maybe they go to the compound and her moms are there or call them.

I hope you have a great day ☺️☺️ and can I be 🦭?

College party

Summary: The world is full of despicable people.

Pairing: Kate Bishop x female!reader, WandaNat x daughter!reader

Warnings: drugging, SA attempt, cursing, violence

Word count: 1179

a/n: I’m guessing you are the person who has already used the 🦭, because it took me so long to write this (so sorry), if so, then yes of course you can! :D

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @emsmultiverse @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

The loud pop music booms through the house, shaking the floor and walls nearest to the stereo system. The living room, that has been changed into a dance floor, is full of university students. Everyone is either drunk, high or both. Y/N is drunk. She’s also alone. Kate, her girlfriend who she came to the party with, parted off thirty minutes ago to go say hi to her friend Gwen. That’s when Y/N decided to go get another drink. Soon she realized Kate, nor Gwen, were nowhere to be seen.

Y/N groans. She is trying to walk through all the people and look for Kate at the same time, but the drunkness is making it difficult to concentrate. Her drink is in her hand, sometimes spilling over the rim of the red cup as people bump into her. She isn’t really paying attention to it, nor to the slightly more bitter taste of her drink.

Finally getting out of the worst of the crowd, Y/N takes a breath, able to breathe properly. She leans against a wall, starting to feel a little dizzy, the alcohol starting to hit more strongly.

A man leans on the wall right next to her. He is looking at her with a smile. “Hey. Why are you alone at a party?” He grins, looking at her up and down.

“‘m not.” She mumbles, her eyelids feeling heavier by the second. She really doesn’t feel like drinking anymore, so she goes to put it down, but the man grabs her arm.

“Hey, hey,” he laughs, pushing the drink up near her face, “don’t waste a good drink.” With a shake of her head, Y/N tries to step away from him, but she doesn’t get far, his hand still tightly locked on her arm. “Calm down, chick. Just wanna talk to you.”

“Gotta go.” She tries to pull away, buy her strength doesn’t compare against him, especially because of all the alcohol.

He starts leading her towards the stairs, “come on, let’s go upstairs. Have a fun time.” Y/N tries to get someone’s attention, so they’d notice she isn’t following him by her own choice, but the music is too loud and everyone is too out of it to notice. To everyone else, it just looks like a boyfriend taking care of his too drunk girlfriend.

When they get to the stairs, Y/N takes hold of the railing with all her strength, hoping he’d think she’s too difficult and deciding to leave her alone. But he seems persistent.

“What the hell is your problem?” His grip tightens. “Stop being such a bitch.”

She drops down to her knees, making herself heavier to pull. The man starts cursing. He goes a few steps down and wraps his arms around her waist, however, before he can pick her up, a punch in the face makes him fall down.

Different set of arms lift Y/N up and behind their back. Panicking momentarily, she calms down once she realizes Kate is standing in front of her. “What the fuck were you doing?” She almost growls.

Y/N tries to grab Kate when she goes to the man, yelling and punching at him, but Gwen stops her. “Let her do it.” She pulls Y/N closer, letting her lean her full weight on her.

After the man has a broken nose and a black eye, Kate comes back to Y/N. “Are you hurt?” She starts looking over her, moving her head around. Y/N just hums, suddenly finding herself too tired to open her mouth. “Thanks Gwen, we’re going now.”

Kate wraps her arm around Y/N’s waist, moving her, so she’s now leaning against her side instead of Gwen’s. They walk towards the front door slowly. She’s constantly keeping her eye on her, and on everyone else around them, ready to pounce id anyone else even dares to look at her girlfriend the wrong way.

As they get outside, Kate helps Y/N to sit down to the curb. She takes her phone from her bag and calls Wanda, Y/N’s mom, knowing her phone has its sounds on even when she’s sleeping. Kate strokes Y/N’s back while she listens to the rings. She only has to wait for five rings before Wanda answers.

“Hello? Is everything okay?” A tired, but alarmed considering the time, voice comes from the other side of the phone.

“This is Kate. Could you come pick me and Y/N up from a party?” Wanda and Natasha weren’t aware they were at a party. “Some shithead tried to hurt Y/N, I think she’s drugged.”

“What?” Wanda’s voice is a lot louder now. Kate can hear her waking Natasha up. “We’ll be there in ten, okay Kate? You send us your address and then wait for us there.”

Kate mumbles out a small yeah and ends the call. She puts the phone back to Y/N’s bag, turning her attention fully to her. She is slumped over, her head on Kate’s shoulder and eyes almost fully closed. “Mom?” She mumbles.

“I called your moms.” Both of Kate’s arms are wrapped around Y/N. They would have a shorter distance to their dorm, but Kate really wants to be around fully grown adults while Y/N is like this. Besides, her moms would be furious if they found out about this later on.

It doesn’t take the two Avengers even ten minutes to arrive, mostly because Wanda drove over the speed limits and probably ran multiple red lights. Wanda and Natasha jumps out of the car, running to the girls. “Hey, sweetheart.” Wanda kneels down to the ground, lifting Y/N’s head up to face her by her chin. “We’ll get you home.”

“Are you okay?” Natasha looks at Kate, her brows raised. She noticed the bloodied knuckles.

“I’m okay.” She helps Wanda lift Y/N up to her feet. “Y/N will be okay too, right?” Her eyes are wet, she finally let herself process the situation.

Natasha sets her hand on Kate’s shoulder, staying there with her while Wanda leads Y/N into the car. “She’ll be okay, you hear me? Because you were here for her, and Bruce will know what to do. Now, I need you to know that it wasn’t your fault. Can you tell me you understand that?”

“It wasn’t my fault.” Kate mumbles.

With a small smile, Natasha starts pushing her towards the car, “thank you for helping her. We’ll clean up your knuckles when we get home.”

“Thank you, Nat.” Kate sits down to the backseat, the door still open.

“Family takes care of each other.” Natasha states before closing the door and getting into the front passenger seat.

Kate smiles, few tears falling down her cheek. She wipes them away and pulls Y/N to lay down over the seats, so her head is on Kate’s lap. Gently, she plays with her hair as they drive towards the Avengers compound, Wanda now driving with slightly lower speed.

[robiinurheart33]

I’m SUCH a sucker for drunk calls/texts confessing their love and y’all know I gotta project it onto ghoap (buckle up guys its a long one I had to break it into two parts SORRY) pt. 2 (clicks for Palestine)

Soap’s blood is pumping. He can feel it heat up in his cheeks in the form of a blush, giggles bubbling up in his throat and his mind loose enough to just sew together a semblance of a bad idea.

Deployment had been boring at first. Stuck at home with unending nervous energy, fingers twitching and aching for the solid feel of a gun, the rough texture of his vest, the adrenaline clapping him on the shoulder before shooting through his veins like a drug. It was so unendingly dull. It’s not like he had anyone waiting for him at his apartment in Glasgow, and their break time was too short to visit his Ma.

So why not invite a few buddies out to drink? No harm, no foul.

Well, that’s what he initially thought. A couple hours later of wheezing and pounding of the table, shoes sticking to the ground and the smell of booze wafting though the air, Soap could confidently say that he was wasted. He’s leaning heavily on his buddy, chum, pal, that he for the life of him cannot remember right now. He’s swaying from side to side, feeling unusually breathless as he mumbles what could be the song that’s playing right now. He’s not sure. He combs his fingers through his hair, scratching a bit anxiously at the nape of his neck. Soap’s not sure if he wants to cry or laugh or vomit right about now. Pretty sure that’s a sign to fuck off, pass out on his bed and deal with the rest tomorrow.

Soap pushes off his… friend? Wait, did he even come with him? And heads towards the general direction where the toilet is. Might as well not look like a homeless person before heading home, wouldn’t wanna scare anyone. His head is spinning, pounding, loud, loud, loud, and nowhere near done with its madness. Soap slams his hand on the wall beside the toilet door, squinting and hoping the door he’s reaching for is the actual door, not it’s double. He does, in fact, get the right door (small miracles), and pushes it open.

He fumbles with his zipper and exhales heavily as he relieves himself. The man beside him in the toilet exits with a sniffle and stumbles out, the music getting louder for a second before the door closes again. Soap leans heavily against the sink counter and washes his hands, placing his fingers together and splashing water onto his face. Soap drags his hands down before greyish-blue eyes look back at him with a piercing stare. He blinks, and re-evaluates again. His hair is flopping to one side, weighed down by sweat. His face is flushed and his skin glows slightly with a thin sheen of sweat, his freckles just shy of being seen under his rosy cheeks, eyebags evident through the haze. He looks down and- oh. It appears his attempt at splashing his face with water wasn’t as successful as he’d hoped, half of his shirt drenched in water. Soap tugs loosely at the corner of his sleeves, releasing the bundled up fabric at his pits. He frowns in discomfort as the sticky heat of his arms lay back down against his skin. He sighs once more, not really feeling like his lungs are filling with oxygen, turning around and laying his hip against the counter lazily before pulling out his phone. 0237. He swipes down on his home screen and pouts at the “no new notifications” tab. He unlocks his phone and swipes through his contacts, unsure of who to drunk text at this hour. Gaz is probably asleep by now, if anyone has a spotless sleeping schedule, it’d be him. Price would have his head on a platter if he texted him about anything non-military business. Laswell, no. Ghost?

Huh.

Ghost…could be someone he could text. Soap isn’t quite sure if he would be awake right now. Do ghosts even need sleep? He huffs at his little comment, tapping on their chat together. Do they have the kind of relationship where soap can dramatically drunk text Ghost at 2am right now? Soap lets out a little bemused huff when he sees that he reached a dead end to their chat after one swipe of his thumb. Of course. Right bastard doesn’t text anyone. He tilts his head up to meet the flickering white light of the bathroom ceiling, watching water damage and mold streak across the concrete. Ghost… how is he during deployment? Does he still wear that mask around the relative safety of his own apartment? Does he have any hobbies? Does he go to the gym as well? Does he long to be back on base? Does he long to be back in the chaos of the war zone, alongside soap? Does he think of soap? Does he ever think to- before Soap knows what he’s even doing, his fingers clumsily type out a greeting.

Hwlli

That’s not quite right.

Gellp

Nope.

Hellu

Oh my god.

Hello

There we go! Soap smiles giddily at his screen, bringing it closer to his face before very carefully writing a much more sophisticated and brilliant follow up.

U up?

He’s the smartest person in the entire world. He supposes a part of himself preens at the thought of even just being able to text someone like Ghost. Big, bad, Ghost. He decidedly does not giggle like a schoolgirl. Just as his mind starts to wander back to the world outside the sickly bathroom, his phone vibrates, and looks down in confusion.

Drunk?

Soap frowns.

Who

You.

Wanna try anf gues, Lt?

You are drunk.

He says it like it’s a fact, like he knows everything. It annoys Soap, much more than it should. He supposes that it could maybe be something to do with the massive amounts of alcohol thrumming through his bloodstream at the moment, but he knows for a fact that it slices through his brain, presses against his throat and contracts his chest.

Yiu think so?

I know so.

Soap thinks Ghost is being a real dick right now.

Ittle know iy all

You’re drunk, Johnny. What do you want me to do about it?

Johnny. Johnny. Johnny. His head spins. If he closes his eyes and imagines hard enough, he can hear the raspy gravel of Ghost’s solid, thick British accent murmuring commanders into his ear. Speaking of noises, his brain starts to register more of the music from outside, the start of a song that Soap can vaguely remember, but he can’t quite put his finger on it right now. The electric guitar, drums and bass all purr in his subconciousness, his lips parting over the words, moving silently as he tries to pinpoint exactly where in the song he is right now. There’s this tune… think of you.. repeat, until I fall asleep, spilling drinks on my settee…do I wanna know? Soap whispers, his mind curling and his ribs creaking. He feels like he’s truly, deeply losing it now, fingers slowly loosening over his phone. His head feels too big and his cheeks are burning, his shirt too tight against his chest and arms and his toes too restricted under his shoes. Everything was funny and everything was too bright and shiny and yearning and blurring and he wishes Ghost was here and he wishes everything was different and he wishes life could just be a little bit easier and-

His phone is vibrating.

Crawling back to you.

[xxsycamore]

Can you do Mozart & wet dreams?

Träumerei

╰┈➤ Mozart has never allowed himself as much as to think of her romantically. Strangely, his most recent dreams are all but lascivious, and twice as confusing. träumerei [noun, german] - dreaming

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart x MC • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Wet Dream; Mutual Pining; Feelings Realization; Denial of Feelings; Love Confessions; Miscommunication; Fainting; Hand & Finger Kink; Vanilla; Dream Sex; Ambiguous/Open Ending • wordcount: 1,104 • masterlist

• Welcome to my personal kinktober challenge, Visions of Temptation 2022 - that’s right, 2022. You can find the new one, Visions of Temptation 2023, here. DAY 3: WET DREAM

"Mozart… Mozart, touch me more with your hands, please…!"

It would be too easy, the composer muses in his thoughts, but he can't find it in himself to deny and tease her anymore. It warms him from the inside when she craves him so, his hands, his touch, so much that she's writhing underneath him. But when she lets out these beautiful moans, the spark of warmth blooms into a consuming fire.

"You love it so much when I touch you. You don't need to beg me. If you want me to touch you, then undress and show me where you need to be touched."

***

"No, that's all wrong. Did you not pay attention when I showed you? Here. Look."

Deft fingers dancing on the piano keys, Mozart repeats the chords with ease in yet another demonstration. His gaze moves on her even before the last notes can fill the air, making sure she's paying attention this time.

Even if it does things to his head, being this close to her.

Given that she was in his dreams just last night. Dreams that were not so innocent...

"I did, it's just… it seems like I was watching you play the piano, and not the notes you play. Tehee…"

His hands. He's not the type to seek eye contact, but more often than he catches her looking back, he catches her looking at his hands.

***

"I want more…I need more, please…please, Wolf!"

It catches him by surprise, how naturally it came out of her mouth. In contrast, her face is burning, gaze not as bold as her tongue, making him want to rain kisses on her hot cheeks. She needs to understand how happy she just made him.

He keeps moving inside her, gently removing the hands she tries to hide her face with. He needs to make love to her more, to give her more until she's pliant and spent and satisfied in his arms.

"You finally said my name." Betraying his own wishes, Mozart finds more appealing spots to press his lips against other than her face. Her neck, where her blood pumps in a rhythmic pulse; the metronome telling him to play her like a melody; to eat her one fang-filled bite at a time. "Keep saying it. I want to hear you say it more."

***

"Where do you want me to put those, Wolf?--Oh! I m-mean, Mozart! I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful! It just slipped out and-"

Something he didn't expect to hear outside those dreams that haunt him. Just an accident. Merely a slip of the tongue.

"That's fine, don't apologize. Are you okay? You're shaking."

She puts down the folded sheets where Mozart points her to, hurrying to find anything else to keep her hands busy with and mask some of that trembling. While nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she unknowingly barrens her nape for Mozart's gaze.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just…couldn't sleep well last night."

"Me too. Be careful not to overwork yourself."

***

"Wolf… I actually… have feelings for you-…No that's awful! Too straight to the point. Ugh. Wolf, I…."

Listening in disbelief, Mozart is overtaken by all sorts of emotions. Her confession came out of nowhere. But she's so finicky about getting it right, she just keeps saying it again and again.

"The truth is, ever since I came to the mansion, I found myself attracted to you and before I knew it… I was truly in love. I grew up with your music, and hearing it has always soothed me in times of- Nonono, what am I thinking? I grew up with it? I'm definitely not saying that part!"

And from finding himself embarrassed, Mozart now finds himself letting out chuckles he can't control, so much unlike him. His heart feels so light, glowing with the newly discovered reciprocation of his feelings.

"I knew that already… you were being pretty obvious, you know. To think that I doubted it still… Hurry up and settle on your confession so I could make mine, would you?"

***

Today she's nowhere to be seen, and for good. Downing another cup of coffee, Mozart hopes he could drown those pestering, illogical feelings in the bitter liquid along with what remains of his sleepiness. Concentrating on his work has never been this hard and he hates it; the sound of ruckus coming from downstairs joining in the cacophony of distractions until he gets up from his desk and goes to check it for himself.

He sees her then, unconscious in the arms of another man who luckily broke her fall. Somebody answers Mozart's horrified gaze with a brief reassurance that she'd most likely overworked herself and it's nothing any more serious than that. The residents are shocked when it's none other than the composer himself who insists he'll take care of her and carry her to her room.

It's maybe on the way there when he realizes, or maybe it's when he finds himself tucking her in under the covers.

Her room, that is adjacent to his.

Her bed, which is positioned in a way that is mirrored to his own, with only a thin wall separating the headboards.

His keen ear as a composer. One thin wall…

"M-Mozart…"

Her glossy eyes stare at him under heavy lids, gradually widening as if in disbelief.

"Idiot, you're going to work yourself to death. How long has it been since you last had an adequate amount of sleep?"

He's no good scolding for this with those most likely noticeable dark circles under his eyes, alas.

"Alright, alright, I'll rest! I'm closing my eyes the second you go through that door! Jeez…Hey Mozart?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for— Are you okay? Your face is red…"

It's funny how fast the tables turn when her hand touches his forehead in an utmost caring manner, and Mozart has to remind that she might be too warm herself to accurately check for him. And judging by the way she has the energy to frown and bark at him, it must be okay now for him to take his leave.

"I'm right nextdoor if you need anything."

"I know where your room is, Mozart…!"

"And one more thing." He keeps his hand on the doorknob, turning his head to look her in the eye one more time. "Next time you have trouble sleeping because there's something on your mind, just come see me."

The only answer he gets is a shy nod that comes after a rather long pause. And it's satisfying enough of an answer.

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[theswanqu33nsblog]

Let's get in the back of your cop car, officer!

Warnings: mention of p and v, kind of agressive, sex in public, very vulgar language.

Whatever and it didn't matter, you were in the back seat of the car of a police officer, or rather good-for-nothing Colin Zabel, a detective who hasn't had a case since...he was almost murdered in Easttown. And you knew that whenever he arrested you you would get out the next day, or that maybe it would be your last day enjoying your freedom.

It was late Friday night, Colin had arrested you because you accidentally (not actually) stole a perfume from a hidden store in the city, you thought there were no cameras but oh surprise! Detective Zabel always had the area monitored. So you were in the back seat, and a safety gate so you wouldn't try to attack Colin while he was driving, singing some stupid song from the 80s.

"ya' know, you should have known that I'm everywhere y/n" Colin said as the radio continued playing the music in the background, while one of his free hands was tapping his knee to the rhythm of the song. "I mean, I think I've counted the number of times I've arrested you this last month."

Colin laughed, thinking it was a great joke, perhaps to impress you or perhaps to make you understand that behind that tough detective facade (which he was not) existed a good and funny man... although it always went wrong.

"i could care less" You said rolling your eyes and looking in the rearview mirror where he saw you, he chuckled and raised his eyebrows.

"yeah, i already know that..." Colin said, taking even a slower route to the station, somehow he enjoyed talking to your snarky and sass attitude. "Hey you know, the other day..." he started to speak but you interrupted him again.

"i said, i literally don't care" You repeated, looking at him again, he raised his hands in surrender while his feet controlled the pedals of the car, and in his failed attempt at being a good person he almost ran over a cat, causing him to put his hands on the wheel and swerve the poor little animal.

"You should relax your temper a little, you know? I'm just trying to do my job," He said as he got back to driving well and then clenched his jaw a little. After a while, he felt a slight discomfort in his pelvis informing him that he couldn't hold back the urge to pee. So, parking the car on the side of the road and turning off the engine, he looked at you and then said "I'll get off for a few seconds...I have to make a call, don't get out of the car or you know what's happening to you."

He looked at you for a few seconds and when he saw that you nodded, confused that you had paid attention, he got out of the car, closing the door behind him, he left but then he came back looking at you through the window, which made you raise your eyebrow. "I'm sorry, making sure you listen to me."

He smiled and then went behind a tree, while you tried to see what he was doing there, because clearly, not a call, because the idiot left his phone in the car. Colin unbuckled his seatbelt a little quickly, not being able to resist the urge to pee, this would have been easier if he were going to a gas station but he couldn't risk you running away and getting a quick taxi, at least here in the middle of the nowhere. Everything would be difficult for you to escape. Then he unbuttoned his pants, lowering the zipper, and then lightly pulled down his boxers, taking out his member and taking it with both hands, looking for some direction to point to to pee, well, if he peed in the tree he would be like a dog and he doesn't want to mark territory...that would be strange. Meanwhile, you, amid all the movement he made in that tree, were able to see what he was doing, just his ass on full display and that was enough for you to smile and try to contain your laughter.

Finally determined, Colin began to pee in the grass, moving his hips and drawing a smile in the dirt with his urine, then he frowned when he realized what he was doing and looked away concentrating on peeing. You kept watching what he did, a slight movement and that was enough to steal a glimpse of his dick, to be honest you always wondered what he was hiding under those black pants every time he arrested you, So when he moved, you could see enough, a good sized dick and veins decorated it, Colin's hand squeezing it as he shook it after he finished peeing, how could such a stupid action turn you on in seconds? Maybe it was because you were ovulating and starved for sex and it didn't even matter if it was casual. Colin fastened his pants and belt, wiping his hands on his pants and running back to the car, sitting in the passenger seat and closing the door behind him, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"Damn it's...hot out there" he said letting out a sigh, the smell of his perfume again invading the police car.

"You were peeing right?" you asked even though it was already obvious, he was going to ask you how you knew but you interrupted him "you left your phone here."

"yea' right"

He let out a light laugh and then both stayed silent, he looked at you in the rearview mirror, although in fact he was looking at your breasts in that long-sleeved shirt you were wearing, weren't you wearing a bra? Damn, your nipples were noticeable, something that made his pants start to tighten. He cleared his throat, putting his fist to his mouth and then said. "I uh.."

"You have a big cock" you said, being completely honest, you loved intimidating people although you didn't know exactly when, he looked at you with a wtf face trying to process that.

"alright, thanks....???" He said, with a light blush on his cheeks, then he ran his veined hand over his forehead and hair, pulling it a little with his fingers and then he said. "Hey, I've never understood why girls don't wear bras under their shirts, is it fashion or...?"

When you heard that, you didn't hesitate to laugh, sure sure, he had seen your tits.

"it's comfy" you smirked, and then it occurred to you to shake your breasts, making his eyes open completely, and then he would turn around to see you in full display. He lightly licked his lips watching your breasts bounce when you finished doing that, then looked into your eyes swallowing quickly.

"why did you..." He trailed off

"because it's sexy, isn't it?" you said, speaking softly, and leaning into the protection that separated both from back seats to front seats, your face close to his between the holes.

He just didn't think, he just nodded, it had been a long time since a girl had acted that way around him, in fact, since his fiancée abandoned him at the last minute. "How can you know if I like that? or if someone is okay with doing that in front of an officer" he asked you, looking at you between the holes, speaking softly and with a thick voice.

"All men love that" You whispered with a slight smile, looking at his lap he noticed a tent forming in his pants, great. The only thing missing was being turned on by a girl that he had to take to lock up that night.

He just, got out of the driver's seat, took out his keys opening the door where you were, almost pushing you aside roughly so he could get in back there, then he closed the door and put the keys in his vest. He looked at you, and sighed saying. "It's sexier to do it when you're handcuffed."

You could only smile at that, feeling your belly tingle and your panties slowly getting wet at that, looking at him closer, you could notice his prominent jaw, those fucking brown eyes looking at you as if he wanted to take you as fast as possible. He quickly laid you down on the back seat, getting on top of you, and kissing you slowly on the neck, shit it felt so perfectly good that if you had your hands free you would undress yourself in front of him. His hands slowly caressing your hips, and slowly entering your shirt while you couldn't do anything but close your eyes and gasp wishing you could touch him again.

"shhh" you felt the soft tickle of his breath in your ear, making you bite your lip in anticipation, as then his perfect nose slid over your cheek to your lips, and then slowly kissing your bottom lip, his hands moving up inside your shirt. until he touched the curves of your breasts without a bra, squeezing them from below while he kissed you. Two fingers of his right hand, touching your nipples and squeezing and twisting them hard, pulling on them as you let out a small moan that made him smirk. "Are you wet already?" He looked into your eyes, while he squeezed your breasts, biting his lip, and with his knees, pushing your legs to the sides of him so that you were spread open, just as you could have wished before. Who wouldn't...

"Do you have condoms?" You asked, even though you knew the guy probably got no sex, you didn't want to risk any sexually transmitted diseases, he frowned, removing his hands from your breasts and said.

"Do I look like I'm carrying a whole package of condoms?" He asked and then let out a laugh. He looked at the car windows hoping that no one would pass by or a person would come out of nowhere. And it was almost time to open the gift, his fingers undoing his belt while you noticed the sexy veins in his hands and forearms, damn man how sexy he was. After that, he took your handcuffed wrists, and put them above your head so that you were not in the way, finally, lowering his pants a little followed by his boxers, which you could see were black Calvin Klein ones.

It was no surprise, this man gave off the aroma of Calvin Klein, he was just so perfect. His veined hand pulling out his good sized cock, with two veins adorning the length, he gave it a pair of pumps while with the other hand, he lifted your skirt a little, and pushed your lace panties aside. His thumb rubbing circles on your clit making you gasp with desire, he then said. "Shit...you're so wet" The sound of his voice was so sexy that you probably felt yourself slipping into the seat of his car, he continued to rub your clit making you wetter while with his other hand he continued jerking off his cock to make it harder, which was throbbing of need to be inside you, on the other hand, he remained strong enough not to sink into you so quickly.

His finger slid over your pussy slit, expanding your juices as your legs trembled looking at him, slowly grinding your hips, he brought his hand to his mouth, licking the tips of his three middle fingers, and spitting a little, then brought them back to your pussy and rub more.

"Holy fuck! You are torturing me Zabel, just fuck me" You let out a moan, he just let out a playful giggle, and leaned towards you, biting your earlobe, and finally, you felt the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your slit, and his hand that was now free, He took your leg, lifting it on his hip and pressing his fingers into it, slowly pushing his tip into you making you moan, and pulling it out again, finally, he pushed himself inside you all the way, touching the depths of you. He grunted leaned his forehead on your neck and whispered.

"fuckkk, you're so damn tight," he whispered, then his other hand took your other leg, placing it on his hip as well and squeezing your thighs with his fingers, slowly, moving his hips back and forth, while you moaned close to his ear.

"yes...ghhh...Zabel" You moaned slowly as your arms tried to go towards his neck to hug him, but releasing your thigh he aggressively pushed your cuffed arms back against the car door, and put his hand on your thigh again, fucking you a little faster than how it started.

"Don't touch me" he said, as he gasped, you felt his cock was completely hard inside you, his balls slapping against your ass as he ground himself a little and started to fuck you faster, you could hear the sounds of skin slapping or clapping. in the silence of the car, while your moans increased and his gasps the same.

"yes...yes...just like that, please zabel..."

Your moans ran through his ears, while he bit his lip and his cockhead brushed hard against your hilt, resting his forehead more on the small hollow of your neck, you moaned more and more. His hand, slowly spanking you, sliding up and down your thigh, as you tried to push yourself further into him.

"fuck i think im gonna...fucking cum" He whispered shakily, while his hips hit your pelvis hard making you moan even more than before, feeling a strange sensation of wanting to come without anticipation, you wanted to touch him but surely he would refuse so you preferred to hold on to the roof of the car, squeezing your legs. on the sides of him. His cock slid back and forth inside you, making you gasp and drip on the seat, the mixture of juices began to form when his cock was filled with your white liquid and with one last thrust, perhaps very strong, he came inside you. of you, pressing his pelvis hard against yours to make sure your pussy swallows every residue of his semen, your womb totally infested with him, damn, you even wanted to get pregnant by him so you could tie him to you and have him fuck you like this fucking time.

Gasping, he raised his head looking into your eyes, sliding out of you and shaking his cock to release the last liquid into your vagina, then he pulled up his boxers and buttoned his pants. "Now, let's go, you must be locked up tonight"

As if the little moment of sex you had was going to change the fact that you had to go to fucking jail that fucking night. "What if I give you a blowjob?"

He smiled as he adjusted your panties and skirt and lowering your cuffed wrists he said "Then make sure you keep that mouth shut for when you leave tomorrow, I need a good good morning blowjob."

He got out of the back seat, closing the door and returned to the driver's seat, while you took care of sitting down properly, although as if once again your pussy felt the need for him, with your forehead sweating and panting you said. "Oh shit, you're a son of a bitch," you muttered.

He looked at you in the rearview mirror as he took the car out from where he parked it and told you, "but you moaned so well for me, didn't ya, doll?"