#something about the completely matter of fact way they all three went

[vaguely-concerned]

sons of mogh ends with a severe sudden onset julian bashir character assassination but in such a bald-faced WILD out of the blue 'now we don't have the time to unpack all of that -- '/well that escalated quickly way that I can't help but cackle and go 'sure I'll take it let's go with that I guess he just did that why not'. mischaracterization so blatant and absurd that it loops right back around from insulting to genuinely hilarious fsdkah

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Unfinished Business

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Serial Killer!Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: talk of beating/raping women and children (implicit, just mention), near drowning/death, car crash

Summary: You’re the most wanted woman in the country, and the BAU finally has you in its grasp. You hunt and kill truly evil people but it doesn’t seem to matter to the authorities if the victims are rapists, killers, and abusers. You’re doing this country a favor and you’re not finished. It doesn’t matter if you’re caught or not. You’re going to find a way to continue your work.

Square Filled: criminal au (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

If the damn clock wasn’t bolted to the wall, you would have ripped it from the plaster and shattered it to pieces. You’re not supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be at home snuggling with your dog who you presume is missing you. Your sister knows to take him in if she doesn’t hear from you within twenty-four hours so you have no doubt he will be taken care of.

Instead, you’re sitting handcuffed to a table in the BAU.

You’ve been on the FBI’s Top 10 Most Wanted for three years now for your notorious work in slicing up men and women who deserve it. Every single one of your victims was far from innocent, but the FBI doesn’t care if you’ve been cleaning house. All they care about is the fact you have hundreds of victims under your belt.

You’ve been killing since you were a child because your father got you into it. It started with random strangers on the highway (he was a truck driver and would pick them up). He’d get them talking and if he so much got an inkling that they were less than innocent, he’d kill them. He taught you to wear gloves, clothes that don’t fit you, shoes that were slightly too big for you, to always have a wig on, talk with an accent, and never trust anyone.

He was never caught and died almost a decade ago. Now you’re left to continue his work.

Men who rape. Men who kill for fun. Men who abuse. Women who abuse. Women who kidnap. They’re all fair game. You’re ridding the world of evil one person at a time.

The reason you’re sitting here and not at home drinking wine is that you decided it was best to work with someone to take down a small group of abusers. The group was small, maybe five or six men, but they went out and assaulted women at night and left them for dead. This other person who you shall not name knew your father and reached out to you. He wanted to work with you in bringing the group down and you trusted him enough to agree.

Your first mistake.

Your second is when you gave him the task of finding an easy way out in case something went wrong. Something did. There was another man in the house who called 911. Your “friend” got away. You got caught. When the FBI realized who they caught, you knew you wouldn’t be getting out of this alive. There have been two dozen confirmed victims of yours but you know that number is well into the three hundreds by now.

You’ve saved a bunch of men, women, and children from getting abused and hurt, and there isn’t a thing you’d change if you could do it all over again.

You’ve been sitting in this godforsaken room for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe that’s their tactic. Maybe they want you to slowly go insane so you’ll confess to more crimes. You were born at night, not last night. At best, you’ll get three consecutive life sentences. There is no way you’re going to ever see freedom… that is if you were completely alone in this. There is a reason why your father was never caught. He has friends on the inside that you can turn to, so you know you’ll be okay if you get sent to jail.

You tap the metal table with a perfectly manicured nail when the door opens and a black man walks in with a thick file in his hands. Damn, he’s not the one you were hoping would come in. The one who apprehended you was white, and he had the most beautiful brown eyes. Lean but not too skinny. Curly hair. Such beautiful features.

The man sits across from you and lays out pictures of men you’ve killed over the years. They are unsolved cases but the FBI doesn’t know that you’re responsible for them. You keep your eyes on the man as he lays out six photos of men.

“Where are they?”

“What, no introduction? No, ‘How’s it going?’ I don’t get any of that?”

“My name is Agent Morgan, and you’re going to tell me where you buried their bodies.”

“Bold of you to assume I killed them.”

Agent Morgan takes out six more photos and lays them underneath the men’s portraits. Each of the new photos is of their crime scenes. You left a lot of blood behind but none of it is yours.

“Do you know what a signature is?” You don’t answer. “You like to leave behind a name written in your victim’s blood.” In each of the photos, you can see the name you wrote on their walls or mirrors. “Femme Fatale. No one else does that but you. So, I’ll ask again, where did you bury their bodies?”

“Mmm. Ask me again. This time, add ‘please’,” you smirk.

“This is not a game, Y/N. Tell me where they are and maybe we can work out a deal.”

“I’m already seeing three consecutive life sentences for the murders you’ve already pinned on me. Unless your deal is me walking out of this building without so much as a scratch on my record, I’m not telling you shit.”

Agent Morgan nods and gathers the photos. He’s done. He knows he’s not going to get anything out of you right now. He opens the door to leave but you stop him before he can.

“When you’re ready to come back, bring in the cute one. I have a thing for brown eyes and curly hair.”

Agent Morgan all but slams the door on his way out. It’s an hour before someone comes back to you, and this time, it’s who you want.

“Ah, there he is,” you grin and sit up straighter.

“So, I’m the cute one?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Ooh, a doctor. I’m impressed. You look so young.”

Spencer opens a file and takes out pictures, different than the ones Agent Morgan showed you. They’re of your apartment, more specifically, the room you have hidden underneath your stairs. You have a basement in the house but the stairs to it are located underneath your staircase going to the second floor. The door is only accessed when you pull up the last step of the staircase. You had that installed when you bought the house so that your extracurricular activities can remain a secret.

Inside the basement are records of the men and women you’ve killed, where you’ve put their bodies, future victims on your list, and people you are suspicious of. You hate that they found that, but it doesn’t matter. You have many houses across the country and even one in Europe that all have the exact same information. If your father taught you anything, it’s to keep backups and backups of your backups.

The only difference is that every safehouse has a different list of different men and women. There are a lot of evil people on this Earth, and you’ve only worked in one country. Imagine what you’d find in Europe.

“We know you’ve killed more than two dozen. It looks like hundreds.”

“What else do you know?”

“I know that you’re smart--smarter than you’d have us believe. I know that you like to work alone. With a rap sheet like yours, you can’t trust anyone. It’s the reason you got caught. The one time you trusted another person, they let you down.”

“So, you’re not just pretty, you’re smart, too.”

“You can deny it all you want, but the facts are right here.”

“I’m not denying any of it. I killed them. All of them. You know where their bodies are. You don’t need a confession out of me which makes me think you wanted to see me.” You grin and lean forward as much as you can. “Isn’t that right, Spencer? You just wanted to talk to me.”

“I’m going to make sure you don’t see the outside of a prison for the rest of your life,” he whispers.

“I like it when you talk dirty to me,” you smirk and lean back.

“We will be transporting you to a high-facility prison before sunrise.”

“As long as you’re in the car with me.” Spencer doesn’t say anything and cleans up the photos from the table. Like with Agent Morgan, you don’t let him leave just yet. “I’m not a bad person, Dr. Reid.”

“According to your basement, you’ve killed over three hundred people.”

“Richard Sigler was raping his six-year-old daughter. Her own mother didn’t believe her when she told her about it. Benjamin Cross has beaten and raped ten women over the course of a month. He was about to add an eleventh victim when I caught up to him. Alexis Greene aided her husband in kidnapping three children. I was with my sister’s kids when she tried it with me. She never got to a fourth.” You rest your elbows on the table. “I never hurt innocent people.”

Spencer doesn’t say anything and leaves the room. It’s another two hours before you’re placed in the back of a car with Spencer behind the wheel. Luck must be on your side because you two are alone.

“What, no one else is going to join us?”

“They didn’t need to. It’s a short drive.”

“Lucky me,” you grin. “So, since I’ll probably never have a genuine conversation with anyone else, tell me about yourself.” Spencer doesn’t answer. “Let me guess, you’re a reserved know-it-all. Secret romancer? Kinky in bed?”

“Shut up,” Spencer sighs.

“Ah, so you’re kinky, huh? What are you into? Personally, I love being tied up. Choking is a big one.”

“Like I’m going to tell you what I’m into.”

“You don’t have to. I can read people pretty easily. You’re an open book.”

Spencer tries to focus on the road but it’s snowing pretty hard. He didn’t know there would be a snowstorm soon. He thought he’d be able to drop you off and return to the BAU before it hit. He turns the windshield wipers on but it doesn’t do much for the snow pouring down.

“Maybe we should pull over. Get nice and cozy in here,” you chuckle.

“And give you a chance to escape? No way.”

“I have cuffs on, Spencer. You’re the one in control. That’s one of your kinks, right? Being in control.”

“Okay, right now, I need you to shut up.”

You do only because the car is shaking. There must be black ice on the road, and Spencer is trying his best not to skid too much. Spencer doesn’t look nervous but you can tell by his labored breathing and the slight perspiration on his forehead that he’s nervous as hell. The only reason you are, too, is because there is a giant lake to the right of you, and you’ve seen too many movies where cars skid on black ice and end up in lakes.

“Spencer, maybe you should pull over,” you say seriously.

“Don’t tell me how to drive.”

The streetlights barely give Spencer enough light to see the road in front of him, and the snow piles onto the windshield faster than the wipers can remove it. Spencer jerks the wheel to the right to avoid a pothole when the car is caught on a sheet of black ice. The car spins in circles before plunging into the freezing cold waters of the lake. Spencer’s head slams into the steering wheel and is knocked out immediately. Water rapidly fills the car, too fast for your liking. You take off your seatbelt and squat onto the seat so you can slide your cuffed wrists underneath your feet. You’re very flexible for someone your age, and you’re thanking your sister for pushing you to do yoga.

You hop into the front seat and ram your elbow into the passenger window. When all you get is a bruised bone, you know you have to try something else before all of your oxygen is taken from you. After all you’ve done, you’re going to let something like this take you out. The water has reached your chest now, and you open the glove compartment for something hard to break the window.

This is a cop’s car, so they have the tools needed to break open windows. You grab the small tool and slam it into the window. It shatters immediately, and you quickly swim out of the window into the dark lake. You’re about to swim to the surface when you look back at Spencer. You can’t leave him there. He’s going to drown. He’s innocent.

You don’t hurt innocents.

You swim to the other side of the car and use the same tool on his window. You reach in and grab him only to realize that he still has his seatbelt on. The tool you have is also good for cutting seatbelts, so you slice his lap belt and pull him out of the car. It’s hard since you’re handcuffed but you have to get him out of the lake.

Your lungs burn from not having enough oxygen, and black spots start to form in your vision. No matter what, you have to get to the surface before you pass out. Just when you think you’re going to suck in a lungful of water, you break through the surface. You struggle to keep both your head and Spencer’s above water but you manage to swim to the edge of the lake. You push Spencer onto the ground and heave yourself next to him.

Shit, you’re freezing. You reach into his pockets and see if there is a key for your handcuffs. Again, luck must be on your side because there is. You unlock the cuffs and place one of them around Spencer’s wrists and the other to the very thin light pole next to him. You can’t have him following you. You look at Spencer’s face to see him paler than before with blue lips.

“Spencer!”

You lean over him, place your lips over his, and blow into his mouth. You pull back and start doing three chest compressions. You repeat the process five times before Spencer coughs up a bunch of water.

“Oh, thank God,” you sigh. “You’re alive.”

“What happened? How did you…?”

“Sorry, babe. I gotta go before they realize you’re missing.”

Spencer jerks his body only to realize he’s handcuffed to the light pole. You grin and hold up the key to the cuffs. You toss them over to him but they’re just shy of his feet. If he stretches hard enough, he’ll reach them but only after he gets his strength back.

“No, get back here right now or I’ll--”

“You’ll what? Arrest me?” You take a few steps before turning back to him. “Don’t take this personally. I have a list to complete. Oh, soft lips by the way. If things were different… As much as I like you, I really hope I don’t see you again.”

Spencer sits helplessly and watches you parade off into the night. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see you again but he’ll try like hell to make sure he does.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[ilguna]

☼ whisper of the beast (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; on your own, you try to find your boyfriend in the arena. instead, you run across something much, much worse.

warnings; swearing, death, weapon usage, ehhh gore, blood mention.

wc; 2.5k

prompt; 11. "Just keep breathing. In and out. You're doing great."

—

There is something seriously horrifying going on with this arena, and each time you think you get close to figuring it out—it changes.

The only consistent factor in each of your theories is the jungle, and that’s because it’s the root of the fear. When you travel through the greenery for long periods of time, a creeping feeling grows on you, one that you can’t shake unless you make your way back to the beach.

Which is far from safe, itself. Especially since there are nine other tributes alive here, roaming around, hunting for lone victors. For it only being the second day of the Games, it’s remarkable that so many are dead, already. With six of them dying today, alone.

It makes you think that you’re being overly paranoid, because you’re out here by yourself. It’s a completely new experience to you. The first time around, during your Games, the Career alliance lasted up until the very last second. You never had to keep an eye out for yourself, because you had others with you that were doing the same thing.

You were under the impression that you’d be doing that for these Games, too, but nothing has gone according to plan. You and Finnick had a long discussion the night of the interviews on what to expect regarding corralling Katniss and Peeta into the alliance. Neither of you thought it would be easy. Worst case scenario, you’d grab one and he’d get the other, and the two of you would meet up somewhere in the middle. 

The Gamemakers really must have it out for you this year, determined to keep you and Finnick apart. That’s why they decided to put you on the opposite side of the Cornucopia, keeping you from seeing Finnick. While also putting Brutus in your water wedge, to ensure that you wouldn’t be able to reach him.

By the time you fought off Brutus and got to the Cornucopia, all three of them were gone. The only option you had left was to wait for Johanna and Blight, but with them still in the water and the Careers coming to take over, you had to leave. There wasn’t a choice in the matter.

Since, you’ve spent your time traveling through the jungle and taking the occasional rest on the beach, in the hopes that you’ll run across your boyfriend. The search was casual yesterday, as you were more worried about finding drinking water than the rebel alliance. Now that the numbers are spiraling, you know that the rescue plan is right around the corner.

You’re confident enough to say that they won’t do it today, but it’s got to be tomorrow or the day after. They won’t have Katniss and Peeta openly in danger like this for longer than they have to. You likely have less than forty-eight hours to find them, or else you’ll get trapped in here and taken by the Capitol.

You would say that you wish you had a general idea on which direction they went in yesterday, but it probably won’t make much of a difference. With the amount of people dying in these trees, you’re sure Finnick is directing them the opposite way, just in case. 

It’s another reason why you can’t stand to be in the jungle for long periods of time. From what you’ve gathered, at least half of the tributes that have died today so far, have come from somewhere in the trees. It makes you think that something is out here, and it’s more than just a rogue tribute.

In fact, it would make more sense for it to be a mutt of some kind. In the last Quarter Quell, they were everywhere. There was not a single animal that a tribute could trust to be friendly. On top of that, there were aspects of the arena that took them by surprise. 

It appeared to be the most breathtaking place imaginable. The Cornucopia was in the middle of a vibrantly green meadow, the sky a perfect blue, with fluffy white clouds. In the distance, there was a snow capped mountain, one that looked straight out of a picture book. On the other side, a healthy forest with plants you couldn’t name.

Of course, it was all too good to be true. The mountain was revealed to be a deadly volcano, the plants were poisonous, the water was infected with a disease, the insects stung and the flowers could kill when inhaled too closely. Everything that was placed in that arena was working against them.

Who’s to say it’s not the same for this one?

You pause next to a nearby tree to rest your feet, because they’re throbbing in your shoes. You lift one, stretching your thigh, feeling the immediate relief that comes with being off the foot. After a minute, you switch, but it doesn’t feel as good this time around.

When you reach up to run a hand through your hair to smooth it back, you find that your scalp is wet, soaked from sweating so much. It feels much hotter today than it was yesterday, like the Gamemakers are trying to boil you alive. It’s brutal enough being in here, do they really need to make it any worse?

You dip your head, eyes closed while you take a deep breath, sighing it out. You return to walking, paying attention to where you place your feet.

It might make more sense for you to go down to the beach and wait for Finnick, Katniss and Peeta to show up. The issue is that you’re not willing to take the risk of the Careers spotting you while you’re down there. The four of them could easily get you pinned down. You’ll be dead before you can call for help.

A branch rustling behind you makes your next step stutter. Your eyes widen, as you slowly look across the fern in front of you, to the left of your vision. With sensitive ears, you adjust the spear in your hand, turning your body halfway to look behind you, at the tree you were just standing at.

There’s nothing.

You take a minute to search the trees around you, backtracking to get a better look. Even if it’s just a critter, you want to know. If there’s living animals out here, that means there’s a water source—and you won’t have to depend on your sponsors to keep you hydrated.

There’s not a trace. At least, that’s what you think, until your eyes catch the hoof print in the mud. Your face contorts, you drop into a crouch to get closer, curious on what could’ve made a mark like this. As far as your knowledge on the jungle goes, there shouldn’t be anything that could leave this behind.

The goosebumps that crawl up your arms are involuntary, stomach dropping. The safety blanket that the jungle had been providing seconds ago, is gone now. There’s something in here with you, and it was smart enough to run when it made noise.

You raise your head, thinking about the best way to handle this situation, when your heart seizes in your chest.

What the fuck is that.

In one fluid movement, you jump to your feet, turning in the direction of the beach, and beginning to sprint down the slope. A screech cuts through the previously quiet air, piercing your ears enough to make you wince at the pitch.

And then you can hear it galloping behind you, hands and feet pounding against the spongy jungle ground. A scream rises in your throat, terrified to look behind you to see how fast this thing actually is.

You take the chance when you swing around a tree, stealing a glance over your shoulder. 

Whatever it is, it’s demonic.

You’ve never seen anything like it. It’s coming at you on all fours, there’s hooves where its feet should be, with long and pointed nails on its fingers. Its fur is so black that you can’t make out where its eyes are, or if it has any skin exposed at all. It’s a beast straight out of one of your nightmares.

It isn’t fast by any means, but it’s not slow, either.

You can hear it tearing up a path behind you, trampling through the bushes, ripping bark off trees. As the path between the trees narrows, the jungle becomes more condensed. You hear less of it coming in contact with the ground, thumping replacing the noise.

Until it stops altogether.

Your instincts take over, jerking to the right, shoulder slamming into the tree. You watch in silence as the beast flies by where you were a second ago, claws out and ready to latch on. It comes into contact with the ground about ten feet away, head whipping unnaturally to see over its shoulder.

“No, no!” You let out, beginning to weave through the trees.

A snarl rips through its throat at the idea of you outsmarting it. It’s coming for you, and there’s nothing you can do besides run for your life and dodge it each time it tries to attack. 

You play this game for what feels like an hour, but it can’t be more than twenty minutes. You make it half a mile down the slope, knowing that the beach can’t be that far away from where you are, when you realize that it’s gone. The monster that has been chasing you has given up.

You lean over your knees, mouth watering, throat beginning to close. As you gasp for air, your body tries to expel some of the heat by making you sweat, but all that’s doing is making you sick. You think you might throw up. 

Right as you’ve come to terms with losing all the water and food in your body, spit falling from your mouth in long strings, a shadow on the ground grows larger. Your face twists, thinking that something must be falling, like a leaf.

It hits you, literally, flattening you against the ground, head hitting the dirt. It digs in, nails cutting through skin as it tears through your back and arms, shredding your jumpsuit. A scream leaves your lips, a white hot and blinding pain smothering you all at once.

Your hand tightens around the spear, cheek against Earth as the beast presses into your shoulders, keeping you from moving. Still, with the small amount of mobility you have, you swing the head of the spear up, toward yourself, narrowly missing your left  shoulder.

It lodges into the beast, causing it to roar in pain. You shove the pole further back, hoping that it pushes into its body deeper. The weight on your shoulders disappears, you can hear it stumbling away.

In the window you have, you get back to your feet, ignoring the screaming pain your entire backside is in. You just need to make it to the beach, it’s not that far away, you’ve covered this distance in your sleep before. It’s harder to do, though, when every hard step you take makes you grit your teeth to keep from crying out. 

The beast is catching up with you, recovering from its wound. It’s faster than you are, and it’s completely disregarding everything in its path. Nothing can slow it down. You can see the golden sand through the trees, you’re almost there.

A body jumps out from behind a bush, making you run into it. For a moment, you’re sure that it’s an exact replica of the monster behind you, but once you realize that you’re staring at another tribute jumpsuit, the panic subsides. But only for a second.

“Move!” You shriek, trying to get around him. He grabs the sides of your arms, holding you there.

You look up, finding that you’re standing face to face with the male tribute from Ten—someone who is not part of the rebel alliance, and doesn’t care whether or not you make it out alive. When you glance over your shoulder, you can see that the beast is getting closer. It’s not going to stop until it gets its hands on somebody.

And it won’t be you.

The only choice you have is to sacrifice him, so that’s exactly what you do. You jerk him around, switching places with him, forcing his back to the beast. His eyes widen, mouth opening to say something, when you pull back from him, lifting your leg to kick him in the chest.

The beast takes him gratefully, landing on his back. He stumbles forward, struggling under the weight of the beast. You watch in horror as its jaws unhinge, revealing razor sharp teeth. It throws its head back, before whipping forward, mouth securing around the tribute’s neck.

And with no resistance, he rips out a chunk of the flesh. A spray of blood hits you in the face, and it coats the jungle floor. You back away with wide eyes, watching as Ten’s legs can’t hold him up anymore, body collapsing in the dirt beneath the beast.

A cannon fires.

You turn, making the final push for the beach before it can come after you, too. 

The moment your feet hit the sand, it begins to drag you down, keeping you from running as far away as your mind is screaming for you to go. You make it a few feet before landing on your hands and knees, sucking in sharp breaths and letting them out aggressively. 

That was almost you. That could’ve been you.

You try to crawl, hands forming in fists in the sand, tears falling from your eyes.

“(Y/n)?” You hear. There’s a headache forming, black spots coming to eat away at the corners of your vision. “(Y/n), hey.”

A hand touching your lower back makes you swing a hand up to get them off. Your wrist is caught, eyes meeting Finnick’s, finding him worried. 

“You’re okay, honey. I’m right here.” He pulls at your elbow to make you sit up on your knees. 

You grab onto his shoulder, struggling to breathe, “It—it… The—” 

Finnick takes your hand placing it against his chest. “Follow me.” He takes a deep breath, you try to follow, stuttering. He blows it out, you sob. “Come on, (Y/n). Just keep breathing. In and out.” You mimic his breaths, allowing them to even out. “You’re doing great.”

“Finnick.” You cry, head falling forward.

He cups your face with both hands, lifting your head. He’s only a couple inches away from you. “You’re safe with me, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He wipes your tears away with his thumbs. “Do you want to tell me what’s in there?”

You look away, eyes too intense to stare into. “A monster.”

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[steddie-there]

Steve is bitchy. It's a known fact. He's a reformed mean girl and bitch is like a second language to him. Whether it's scathing commentary about Family Video customers almost before they're out the door,

"So apparently it's national hit on someone young enough to be your granddaughter day, who knew we had such a gross holiday?"

snarky conversations with the kids,

"Well, whaddya know, Dustin, would you look at this?" "What? "It's the coke you said wasn't in the fridge! Isn't it amazing how it just magically appeared?" "Oh, shut up, Steve." "I'm just so completely in awe!"

or calling out the people that still give Eddie nasty looks (and doesn't that make Eddie's heart grow three sizes and threaten to pop out of his chest and burrow into Steve's?),

"You know, Carol, if you keep making that face, it might stick like that. But look on the bright side, at least then the outside would be as hideous as the inside!"

Eddie adores all of it. Loves Steve's mile-wide mean streak. Loves how he can use it to tease the people he loves or decimate the latest idiot he's been forced to deal with.

But Eddie's favorite, the best, the most wonderful, absolutely fantastic moments of Steve's bitchiness? Those happen while he's driving. It doesn't matter what exactly has him riled up about another driver, Steve always has something sarcastic on the tip of his tongue to bitch about them with.

"Do you look as stupid as you drive? Dumbass."

"Jeeze, I never knew the white line was for driving on. What an amazing thing you've discovered!"

"Oh, apparently I missed the memo where 35 mph got changed to 55. Eddie, remind me to check the speed limit sign the next time we drive through here. God, what an impatient asshole."

No matter what it is, it always has Eddie stifling his laughter behind his hand. But this last time - they're at a four-way stop and the car turning across from them definitely went before it was their turn and Steve says, "Hmm, seems someone missed the lesson on taking turns in kindergarten," with that little bitchy tilt to his head - Eddie can't help the guffaw that bursts out of his mouth.

Steve looks at him from the corner of his eye. "What are you giggling about?"

"You. You just - you get so bitchy at the other drivers and, I swear to god, man, it's the funniest shit." He laughs again, says fervently, "Christ, I love you, Stevie."

And then he freezes. Realizes what he said. Takes a deep, horrified breath. It's too soon, they only just started dating, he can't say something like that, he's... He backtracks. "Uh... I mean, uh, I love when you - "

And then freezes again when Steve slides his hand off the steering wheel and onto his thigh, fingers curling around the inside. "So, you love me, huh?"

Eddie chances a glance over at Steve. Despite the teasing tone in his voice, there's something soft around his eyes and the edges of his smile. Something almost... hopeful.

Eddie swallows and decides fuck it. "Yeah, yeah I do," he tells Steve quietly.

Steve makes a quiet sound that goes straight to Eddie's heart. When he peeks over again, Steve is looking back and forth between Eddie and the road and his expression is so open and tender and happy that Eddie doesn't regret for a second what he said, even if it is too soon. "I love you, too, Eds," Steve says and Eddie feels his stomach swoop with butterflies. He puts his hand on Steve's, squeezes it, tangles their fingers together, grins bright at this man he loves so very much.

And if, after that, Steve goes out of his way to play up his bitchiness whenever Eddie is in the car and Eddie never stifles his laughter at it again, well, that's between the two of them, isn't it?

[riksaes]

when he realise he's fallen in love

ni-ki nishimura x fem reader , synposis : ni-ki realises he's fallen in love and wants time to go slower , genre.. fluff , word count ?? , idk , listened to nothings gonna hurt you baby by cas and it ends with us movie ruined it for me so ugh

rq for any idols / groups

m.list

ni-ki and you were in the practice room because of how over working ni-ki was with the upcoming dances for their comeback. he was in poor conditions due to HYBE not giving them a proper break, this made your heart crack seeing how hard he's pushing himself physically but mentally as well. it wasn't healthy for him or the group either and seeing him from a distance like this made you feel bad for not being able to do anything about it.

you debuted with the group 'newjeans' who was also known well enough for HYBE to push around and mentally destroy but not enough like enhypen. ni-ki was always worried when you over-pushed yourself especially when you got injured during the MAMA 2023 awards on stage but didnt tell anyone until one of your members pressured you into saying it. it never mattered to you but your mind always drifted off to ni-ki's health before yours and made you blind to what was wrong with the current injury of yours.

looking at ni-ki through the practice room mirrors while sitting down with a moon boot carrying down your leg. it had been three hours with you being here because ni-ki didn't want to leave you alone in your apartment be alone in the practice room. even though he felt bad that you couldn't work hard like usual, he wanted to make sure you were still going out.

without thinking ni-ki did a move that made him blind over the fact he did it wrong, which twisted his wrist but not enough to injure it fully. this caught your attention and quickly stood up to the taller boy who was sitting on the ground looking at his wrists and silently cursing at it. limping over to the boy with the quickest pace you could do and sitting down in front of him. "ki.. you okay?" you pushed his bangs away from his sweaty forehead while all he did was nod trying to forget about the exquisite pain from his wrist. "yeah i'm okay, just placed it the wrong way so it kinda stings". he ended with a sigh just wanting all of this practicing to end and go have dinners with you like a normal human being.

looking at ni-ki who's puffed out and tired from overworking himself and you standing back up. "ki stay here and don't move i'll be back" you said and went to the bag you usually brought to practice that held items in case if someone or you got injured. he titled his head and watched you from where he was in admiration because even if you were injured, you were taking care of him.

digging through the bag and finally finding the little my melody full makeup pouch and closing the bag up. you walked over to ni-ki and sat back down in front of him. he didn't know what you were doing and just stared at you with complete confusion but admiration at the same time. "gimme your hand" you said not looking at him, trying to search for the little ice pack, panadol cream and a bandage. ni-ki put his hand out in the air waiting for you to take it eventually. finding the items and placing them onto the floor next to your boot that needed the rest after walking heaps. grabbing his soft arm and placing it onto your knee that was now a table for his injured wrist.

as time went on you were trying to prevent any pain for the next few days, ni-ki looked at you like you were everything. he smiled at the little things you were doing while you were injured but putting him first before anything. it always noticed and took note that you would do this, even if something was happening or even if you had to keep up your idol facade. he brushed away the loose hair that fell out of your messy ponytail and grabbed the clip from inside of the makeup pouch and used it on your hair. you smiled at the little gesture while wrapping his wrist up and kissed where he hurt himself.

ni-ki just smiled at the small heartwarming gesture and hugged you once you finished and taking in your hair product smell, that smelt like strawberry shortcake. rubbing his face onto your hair while smiling finally realising this is who he wants to stay with forever. even though he was still young, he would wanna replay every moment again just to keep them forever.

"i love you" he said

"i know and i love you too 3000" she replied with

a/n : sorry for disappearing i lowk died and came back but i may be gone for a bit again so this is my future apology

taglist: @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @chaconkii

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒓

Eddie munson x fem!reader

Summary: not much of a plot here. You go to Eddie for some of that marriage iguana.

Warnings:smut, slight choking, some praising. Mention of drugs (weed), no use of y/n, Eddie refers to the reader as baby, good girl, and sweetheart.

Word count: 1.2k

A/n: Not proofread. I don't know where this came from. I got bored and was desperate to write a little smut.

18+ minors dni

You were only supposed to be going to your neighbor for some weed. That's it. That's all you need. No sex this time around you repeated to yourself. You just needed a little bit to help get you through through the rest of the week.

Work had been hell for you. On top of just life being difficult in general. you needed something to help ease your nerves. Eddie hated random visits. Except when it came to you. His "favorite" he'd call you. No matter what you knew you could count on him for just about anything.

You knocked pretty hard on his front door. Three fast knocks followed and then nothing. He didn't come to the door. You waited and waited. Still no answer. When it was obvious Eddie wasn't going to answer the door your let yourself in. You knew he was home. His van was parked right there next to an old broken TV.

He didn't care if you just walked in. Matter, of fact, he even offered to give you a key once. You eased your way through the front door and made your way over to his bedroom. A room you've become very familiar with over these last few months. You saw him lounging back with a guitar over his lap. He was strumming away lazily on the cords.

Eddie heard you walking through the kitchen to the back slowly over to him. You don't know how he heard you over his playing.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite customer. What will it be today? Weed or my dick?". He half joked, putting his guitar down next to him.

His humor could be mistaken for arrogance by anyone who didn't know him.

You crossed your arms over your chest." Just the weed this time, smart ass."

"Fine, I'll only be a sweet ass." His remarked sarcastically. Eddie made a face and raised his hands up in surrender.

At this point, you don't know what your relationship is with him. You definitely didn't want it to end, though. You did enjoy the friendly back and forth banter. Even if you acted annoyed, you really weren't. The sex was great, too. That was something else you didn't want to end either.

Eddie grabbed the little baggy off his vanity. He knew what you liked and how many ounces you bought from him. He walked over to you, dangling the weed in front of your face.

"Ya sure?" He raised an eyebrow at you. He tossed the bag in your hands. You knew what he was getting at. You knew what he was hinting at.

"Ya sure?" You repeated in your mind.

"I'm sure." You hesitantly spoke. You and him stared at each other for a couple of minutes. Only to you, it felt like hours. You were lying, and he could tell.

Now you find yourself naked in his bed yet again. your legs were spread wide open. His body pressed on top of yours. The head of his cock rubbing against your clit. You did this every time you went to him for something. You never just left with whatever you came by for.

Eddie had his hand around your throat. He stops teasing your clit and drags the head of cock to your opening. He slowly pushed himself in to your dripping cunt. Once he was completely inside of you. He stills for just a few moments so you can get used to the stretch. Eddie let out a long, deep moan, sighing with pleasure feeling your walls hugging around his cock. All it took was one wrong move and he would cum immediately.

"Ooh god!" Your voice croaked. His windows were wide open in his trailer. Anyone outside could probably hear you.

"Better be quiet baby don't want the neighbors to know what we're getting up to in here." Eddie warned. He didn't care who could hear. But he loved to mess with you.

You pout but nodded. "I'll try to be quiet." You didn't care who could hear you anymore.

"Mmm, you're such a good girl." Eddie purrs in your ear, causing you to whine. He pulls back and slams into you harder.

Your body jolts forward, and the grip he has on your throat tightens. You wrap your legs tight around his lower back, helping him go deeper inside you. You were moaning so loud calling out his name.

He licks the shell of your ear. "You feel so good, baby." His voice is low and husky, sending a shiver up your spine. "So fking wet and tight-"

"Eddie, please!" You begged.

He makes a mocking pout. "Please, what?" His eyebrows raised slightly.

"Pleeeease," you beg him again over and over.

"Be a good girl and tell me what you want. You know I have no problem giving you what you need." Eddie smirked, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip.

You're trying to find your words. His drags his cock almost all the way out of your cunt leaving only his tip. Your head feels like it's spinning. Your face is getting hot, and your body is covered in sweat. He was breathing heavier and grunting louder.

"F-faster- I need you to fuck me faster." You continued to beg. Eddie was leaving wet kisses all down your chest with his hand still holding your throat. His other hand moved to squeeze your hip.

"That's my girl." He praises and drives his cock back inside your aching cunt. He lets go of your neck to caress your cheek.

You leaned into his hand as his pace quickened. The springs in his bed squeak with every thrust of his cock. Your eyes squeezed shut. Your moans sound almost desperate as he pumps cock inside you. Your walls clenching around him. Earning you low groan from his soft lips.

you can't speak or barely think. You're trying so hard to say anything at all. You couldn't even mutter a thank you. You can’t even remember why you went over to his place to begin with. Was it for weed? Did another pipe bust in your bathroom? You dont know, and you dont care.

"I," you paused, licking your lips, "i- shit..." You fumbled over your words. No one has ever made you feel like this before. Your walls were pulsating around him. He was hitting your g-spot just right with every hard thrust.

Eddie has you so cock drunk you can't form a cohesive thought. He formed a sly smirk on his face when he saw you struggle to speak. He noticed you were getting frustrated with yourself.

"Mmmfph! Ed-" your body was writhing underneath his. Your was hung open. Your eyes were all glassy. Your whiny moans were deafening almost.

The loud schlick sound his cock made when he plunged it in your tight cunt. Your walls pulsating around him. You could feel every inch of him.

Eddie shook his head again and laughed to himself. He kept hearing you stammering over your words. He felt a little bad. Just a little. But he loved watching you get this way. It was such an ego boost for him.

So he decided to speak for you. He already has an idea of what you were trying to say. Your nails were digging into his back. You knew you probably were drawing some blood from him. They were practically embedded into his skin.

"I know, sweetheart, I know." Eddie cooed, griping both of your hips now. "M'gonna take real good care of you."

[praisethegabs]

HATE THAT I LOVE YOU

leon kennedy x f!reader

synopsis: Leon can't stand seeing you around him. You know how much he hates you and you like having fun with it. Things get worse when the two of you get lost during one mission, with no comms to call for help. Leon blames you for everything, until he revels something he shouldn't.

warnings: ENEMIES TO LOVERS. descriptions of injuries, reader taking care of leon, comfort, fake marriage, descriptions of nudity, leon drunk and and reader teasing him. small reference to call of duty characters as part of reader backstory.

word count: 10k +

a/n: heavily inspired by "death of me" by wizthemc. cover from laughingwallaby on x/twitter. it isn't necessary to listen to the song, but I highly recommend it.

"he’d set fire to the world around him but never let a flame touch her" senlinyu

Leon Kennedy hates you more than anything else in this world. 

He hated the fact he was obligated to be your partner, hated the reckless way you always managed to finish a mission practically intact, and hated the way you always succeeded in something, no matter what it was. He hates you entirely, even your perfume is enough to get him on his nerves. 

He hates you ten times more because he knows you know he hates you, and you seem like you don't care about it at all. 

It all started three years ago, when he discovered he would be your new partner. Your name was pretty famous, and so were you. Not that he envies your success, but he never thought he would be under the shadow of someone like you. At first, Leon was very impressed with your skills and the way you work, but two weeks later, he started to despise you, and this feeling turned into hatred. 

You ain’t stupid, you can even feel all the hate he has towards you, and things get better because you have this masochist side of yours that makes you feel happy seeing how angry he can be at you. 

Although you don’t care about the reasons he hates you, the thing is, you can’t deny how attractive Leon can be, and having him as your partner makes every other agent jealous of how lucky you are. It’s Agent Kennedy, the one and only. The guy who rescued the president's daughter and basically did other significant things for the government. 

But, despite the Leon you know at work, his entire life is a blank page. You know absolutely nothing about him, and he doesn’t care about sharing his personal life details with someone he hates. You noticed a while ago that you are the only person Leon ignores and despises completely, and he avoids talking to you as much as he can, only when it is necessary. And when he opens that pretty mouth of his, it usually contains hateful words. 

At this point, you just do your job the way you see fit and come back home safely, not caring about Leon’s arrogant ass. 

“You could have killed us!” Leon snaps at you, his entire demeanor showing stress. He can’t avoid grabbing you by your arm and squeezing it tightly, which makes you groan.

“Well, golden boy, at least your ass is intact and here. I’d like to hear a nice ‘thank you’, how about it?” You smirk and tilt your head, and in response, his entire face turns red with anger.  

“You’re so fucking immature. Do you think you’ll be lucky for the rest of your life?” He raised his voice, his hand on your arm getting tighter by the second. The expression on your lips didn’t make things easier. “One day, you won’t be that lucky, and you’ll probably drop dead somewhere. I won’t be there to pick up your pieces. Do you want to risk your life? Go ahead, I don’t fucking care, but don’t drag me into your bullshit again. I’m your partner, not your babysitter” 

“I’m really surprised you consider me your partner, Kennedy,” you smirk again, and that smirk was enough to infuriate Leon more than he already was. 

Leon was on the verge of yelling at you, but the cold expression that quickly went up on his face was enough to make your smirk disappear. You have never seen him like that, it was weird. 

“Maybe I should change that,” he hissed with cold and dead eyes, finally letting go of your arm.

“Good luck with that, Kennedy,” you coo, crossing your arms over your chest as you speak. 

After saying that, the smile you gave him was enough to make Leon livid. He wanted so badly to take that ironic smile off of your lips, he wished that right now you were a man, so he could definitely teach you a lesson you wouldn’t forget so soon. However, you are the same annoying opposite gender that he hates so much. So, instead of beating the living shit out of you, he just watched you leave, turning in the opposite direction to calm himself down before he did something stupid. 

The last mission was very simple: locate and terminate a bioweapon. As you two went there to find the said bioweapon, the entire area was drowning in chaos. The area was isolated to prevent the bioweapon from running away, and alongside you and Leon, there was the entire squad ready to follow your lead. 

It should be simple, right? Here's the part where Leon thinks you're completely reckless. Instead of following the standard protocol, you thought it would be best to use yourself as bait and literally explode the entire block. Your stupid plan really worked, and the bioweapon died in the explosion; luckily, you were left with a few scratches and a bleeding ear — which the doctor said wasn't something serious, although you would be “deaf” for a few days from your right side. 

So, when you got home, the first thing you actually did was take a nap, which turned out to be deeper than you expected. You slept for twelve hours with your phone in airplane mode so that no one could disturb your sleep. The only thing you weren't counting on was waking up to the distant sounds of someone practically wanting to take your door down. Wearing your cat pajamas, your hair a complete mess, and your face swollen after so many hours sleeping, the last person you thought you would see was Leon. 

And he was right there. 

“Do you know I’m out of the clock at the moment, right?” you asked him, with a big yawn seconds later. His face wasn't one of the most friendly you've seen. 

“Yeah? Do you think I’m here because I want it?” Leon rolls his eyes, sounding annoyed and bored. 

“Well, golden boy, if you’re here to yell at me about what happened earlier, I suggest you wait until tomorrow. I’m definitely not in the mood for you,” you said, already closing the door, when Leon suddenly stopped you. “I always thought you were a weirdo, now I’m sure of it. What do you want?” 

“Get ready for our new assignment. And try to dress in something more... elegant.” Leon gave you the file from the next mission. Surprised, you started to read the file, and out of nowhere, you started to laugh in disbelief. 

“Recently married couple on their honeymoon? Is this some kind of sick joke?” You glanced at him, still laughing nervously at your new disguise with him. 

“Trust me, I asked the same question, and unfortunately, that's our new disguise. So, get your ass ready. We’ll be leaving in three hours, Ms. Kennedy,” he said with his Stoic and cold expression as always, giving you a ring made of white gold, which made you think how expensive it was. 

“I’m pretty sure our agency wouldn’t give us this type of accessory,” you said to him, taking a good look at the ring he gave you. White gold, with a beautiful sapphire and diamonds carved around the blue stone. 

“Don’t be late,” Leon said, ignoring your last commentary. “I’ll be waiting at the airport” 

Leon left without looking at your confused expression. You had to read the file at least three times until you finally understood the mission. Leon and you were going to pose as a recently married couple enjoying their honeymoon as you two investigate a famous billionaire that made its own wealth by selling bioweapons in the market. You sighed with the sudden stress, walking towards your room to prepare your bag. After finishing your bag, you caught yourself glancing again at the ring. You were sure the agency wouldn’t give this ring to Leon for a fake marriage. It was something else, but what? 

So, one hour later, you drove to the airport. At least this time, you weren’t late, and Leon wouldn’t be making a scene over it. You found him distracted, wearing sunglasses with his leather jacket, his hair shining in the sunlight. Leon seemed very focused on the book he was reading, and it was a big surprise to see him like that, especially because you knew nothing about him. 

“So, dear husband, are you ready to go?” you ask, seeing him put his book aside. He looked very beautiful with those sunglasses. 

“Yeah, sure.” He nodded, his voice sounding calm instead of the coldness you were used to. You noticed he was wearing his own wedding ring. 

“Will you tell me where these came from?” You started to walk next to him, referring yourself to the ring he gave you, hoping it would be a real answer. 

“Why do you care? It’s just a ring,” Leon replied, avoiding the subject as much as he could. 

“I don’t think it’s just a ring. It has some marks on it, like it was used before.” The egocentric smile on your lips made Leon take a deep breath. 

“It was from my mother, okay? It’s the last thing I had from her and my dad before they died. Satisfied?” Leon harshly replied to you, and you knew you had screwed up. You didn’t know about his family, and the way he replied made you realize it was a hard subject. 

“I’m sorry, Leon. I didn’t know,” you hissed, feeling your entire face burn with shame. 

“Like you care,” he replied in a cold tone, walking away from you towards the airport. 

The rest of the flight was absolute silence. Leon didn’t speak with you and had no intention to do so. You felt terrible, but you decided not to show him any feelings; the guy literally hated you, and showing how you felt was the last thing he would believe. So, thinking about all the years of free hate, you decided it was for the best to pretend you didn’t care.

Naturally, pretending that everything was fine was one of your best qualities. You were so good at hiding your own feelings that no one could read you or decipher your emotions. 

At the hotel, hours later, you were ready to follow Leon and finish the job. Deep down, you were expecting his coldness and his famous Stoic expression, along with his grumpy humor. However, you were caught off guard when he suddenly took your bags and smiled at you. He was, indeed, a full mystery. 

“C’mon, darling. I’ll take your bags for you.” When he said that, you noticed the “recently married couple” game was on. You glance at him and smile broadly, then kiss his cheek.

“Oh, babe, you’re so sweet to me. Thank you,” you said, giving him your bag and walking in front of him like you were some kind of model. Two people could play this game, right? 

After the check-in, you two walked between fake laughs until you reached the master bedroom. Leon could pay, and so could you, but you decided to let him play along since it was his mission, and you were just his annoying partner. 

“Such a cliché… having one bed,” you sighed at the sight of the master bed in the center of the room. 

“We’re married, it should look like that.” Leon rolled his eyes, leaving your bag close to the bed as he analyzed the entire room. 

“No, we’re not married. We’re pretending to be,” you said, sitting on the edge of the bed and smirking ironically at him. “And besides, why me? You said you wanted to leave. You could have asked for any other agent”  

“Who said I didn't ask?” Leon replied with the same ironic smirk on his lips, sitting on the armchair in front of you. 

“And what did they say?” Suddenly, you sounded more upset than your usual sarcastic demeanor. You hope Leon didn’t notice. 

“Unfortunately, they can’t give me another partner. Guess I’m stuck with you for God knows how long” He sounded annoyed for a moment, but you chose to ignore it completely. 

You decided you needed a bath. You took a few clothes from your bag and decided to “play” with him. Not only that, but you removed your clothes in front of him, sensually, trying to get some reaction from him. When you glanced at Leon, he was hard.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and you noticed he was breathing heavily. Now he was nervous, and it wasn't anger. 

“We are married. I guess this is what wives do in front of their husbands.” You wink at him, making your way to the bathroom wearing nothing but your lingerie. 

Leon was completely speechless. You could see him swallowing harder, his Adam’s apple going up and down faster. The devilish smile on your lips didn’t make things easier for him, either. It took a lot of strength from him to look anywhere else but you. Leon was clearly uncomfortable and nervous. 

“You know, if you want this mission to succeed, you must pretend you don’t hate me. And for that, you need to trust me, Kennedy. I know you despise my methods, and I know you’re anxious to get rid of me, and honestly, I don’t really give a shit about your teenage behavior,” you said from the bathroom, wrapping your now naked body around a white towel and opening the door again so you could see him. “So, I promise I’ll try my best to not screw everything up. Just try not to act like the asshole you are usually whenever you’re with me” 

“Oh, I’m the asshole now.” Leon finally seemed to wake up from his own trance, and his expression suddenly changed from Stoic to aggressive. "You've acted like a complete jerk since the first day we started to work together, and according to you, I’m the asshole here? You should look at yourself in the mirror, sweetheart” 

“Then why did you stay here with me this entire time? You could have split a long time ago, golden boy,” you say, crossing your arms in your chest, not intimidated by his behavior. 

“I told you. They won’t put me with another agent. I’m stuck with you, and trust me, I wish I could have left a very long time ago,” Leon replied coldly, his blue eyes almost icy with the way he was staring at you. 

But instead of your silence, you caught him off guard.

“I know you’re lying. If you snap your fingers, they will do everything you want. You just have to ask, since you’re their golden boy. They freaking love you, Kennedy, and there’s nothing they wouldn't do to please you. Don’t bullshit me,” you said, walking slowly towards him and hissing, your eyes shining with sarcasm. 

But Leon didn’t give you an answer. Instead, he took his leather jacket and left the room without saying something. You decided to calm yourself down and go straight for a bath, enjoying the candles and their arousal. After what seemed to be a long time in the tub, you left the tub and wrapped the towel around your body; the room was still empty, and you couldn't care less about Leon. If he wanted to act like a pampered kid, that was his problem, not yours. 

You enjoyed the time alone to do your skin care routine, and decided to take care of your own body as well. It was almost eight when the phone inside your room started to ring. 

“Ms. Kennedy, I’m sorry to interrupt, but your husband seems to be causing quite a scene in the hotel bar. I might have to ask you to pick him up; otherwise, I’ll have to ask security to take care of him,” the person on the other side says to you, and immediately, you sighed. 

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll go get him right now. Thank you,” you said, forcing the most sweet tone of voice you could at the moment.  

You left the room thinking about ending Leon. He could definitely jeopardize the entire mission with his behavior, and this was unacceptable. When you found him in the bar, he was, indeed, causing a big scene. Leon was screaming and scaring the rest of the guests, and there were at least three security guards next to him. 

“Leon, darling, come on. You've had enough,” you said, approaching him and touching his shoulder softly. 

“Are you his wife?” one of the security guards asks you with a serious expression. You couldn’t blame the man, he was only doing his job. 

“Yes, and I am really sorry for my husband. I guess he’s just too carried away…” you said with the calmest tone of voice you could, trying your best to hold him tight. 

“Ma’am, you need to control him. He made a lot of mess in the bar.” The other looked severely at you, with an angry expression. 

“I’m here, aren’t I? Don’t worry about the trouble, we can pay for the inconvenience,” you replied in a harsh tone. Suddenly, Leon threw up, and his vomit fell on the floor. “And we can pay for that too”

“Suck on that, fuckers!” Leon smiled before you dragged him back to your room. 

In the silence of the hallway, Leon had a lot of difficulty walking properly. He was stumbling on his feet and saying incoherent things in your ear. You never saw him like that, and it was pretty weird being his babysitter. You wanted to kill him, but he couldn’t even stand, and possibly wouldn’t remember a thing the next day. 

“I hate you,” you muttered, dragging him across the hallway towards your room. 

“Why do you hate me?” Leon asks, his mouth smelling of alcohol and his words confused. “Am I not good enough?” 

“Where is this coming from?” You raised both of your eyebrows in visible confusion. Finally, you reached the room and unlocked the door, dragging Leon into the bathroom. 

“I tried… to be enough… I know I’m an asshole, but… I’m scared of being hurt again, and… I push people away from me… but you’re so different…” he says between drunken hiccups, which is almost funny, but completely unexpected. “I've liked you since the first time I saw you, and… and…” Leon throws up again in the toilet, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, before looking at you again. You were completely speechless. 

“I think you need a bath,” you muttered, still shocked by his words. Your hands were shaking, and for a moment, you had no idea what you should do. 

“No… I… I need to finish this because I don’t know when I’ll have the balls to do so again…” Leon grabs you tightly, not wanting to let go of you. Biting your lower lip, you nodded. “I know I said I hate you, but… but that’s not true. I only did that because… because I was scared and thought you would reject me… so I started to act like an asshole… I’m so sorry” 

“It’s okay… I should be sorry too, I didn’t make things easier for you since day one” you said to him, sounding more kind than you usually are. He won’t remember this conversation, you are sure of it. 

“I feel complete trash… I should’ve just… asked you instead of acting like an asshole…” Leon said this between other rounds of drunken hiccups. He’s pretty wasted. 

And before this conversation could end in another way, you decided to give him a cold bath. You didn’t remove his clothes, and he complained a lot when he felt the cold water on him. After that, you had to change his clothes, and when Leon saw you touching him, he turned hard again, although he was too drunk to even be ashamed. You had trouble laying him on the bed, but he didn’t struggle against you. 

“I love you,” he whispers before falling asleep. 

The next morning, you decided to leave Leon alone for a while. You couldn’t explain to him what happened the night before because you were too shocked to say something. “I love you,” he said, and his words made a home in your head. How was that even possible?

Leon Kennedy, the guy who hated you with his entire being, said he loved you. He was drunk, and he probably didn’t mean any of those words. Maybe he was just playing a game with you, maybe that wasn’t true. However… drunk people tend to say things they usually wouldn’t say. So, there was a remote possibility that he was, indeed, telling the truth. How could you believe him? 

“Fuck… what happened?” Leon asks you when he woke up, squeezing his eyes. He had a terrible headache. 

“You got drunk last night and caused a lot of trouble in the bar,” you said, throwing at him a small, transparent bag with painkillers. 

“Shit, I can’t remember anything. My head hurts like crazy.” Leon looks at you, and you can see the effects of the hangover on his face. 

“Glad one of us has commitment to the job,” you said, sounding harsher than you wanted to be. Leon looks at you again, but completely confused this time. 

“What did I say?” he asks, and then, as you can notice, he sounds more desperate. If it were at another time, you would definitely take advantage of it, but his words echoed in your head again. 

“Nothing important. Just regular drunk stuff,” you say, shaking your shoulders, avoiding the subject that was hammering your head. 

"Fine.” He nods his head and stands up, walking to the bathroom. 

His words were floating in your head, and it was hard not to think about what happened the other night. At this point, you had no idea how you would finish the mission. Not with his words hammering in your head, penetrating your chest, and making you feel things you really don’t want to.

You hate Leon Kennedy and everything he made you feel.

He comes out of the bathroom, and he has a towel wrapped around his waist. The sight you had of him, all muscular, his body sculpted by the gods, walking like that in his own glory. It made your stomach twitch. You felt your face burning, and right now, you wanted to dissipate from the earth. 

“We have a meeting in one hour.” You had to find a lot of strength inside you to not stare at his chest when you spoke to him. 

“Can you go alone? I’m not really in perfect condition.” Leon sits on the bed, looking at you. He seems to not realize what’s happening. You, in response, shake your head. 

“No, I can’t. Since we’re married, you need to come with me. It sucks, huh?” you replied with a cold smile, looking at him with dead eyes. 

“Jesus, you’re really a pain in the ass,” he says in a deep breath, reaching for the painkillers. 

You decided to ignore his commentary and get ready for the day. According to your new schedule, the man you two went to investigate would be in a meeting and then head to the restaurant. It was the perfect opportunity. You decided to wear a short black dress, making your thighs visible, and a V-neckline, showing a little of your breasts. 

"Fuck” Leon mutters when he sees you, and you can notice he’s a little nervous. Maybe he’s starting to remember what he did last night.

“What?” you ask him, raising both of your eyebrows.

“I can’t find my phone,” he replies angrily, looking the entire room over to find his phone.

“It’s in the drawer.” You rolled your eyes, finishing with the makeup and your hair. Leon sighed in relief when he finally found his phone. “You’re welcome”

He took a few minutes until he finished getting ready. Leon was wearing a navy blue shirt, black shorts, and sunglasses, the same ones he was using at the airport. He was looking very beautiful, but you decided to keep your thoughts to yourself.

“Ready?” he finally asks you, looking at you with some curiosity. You nodded, grabbing your purse and walking next to him outside the room.

The hotel’s restaurant was filled with the clinking of cutlery and the low murmur of conversations. Leon and you decided to sit across from each other at a small, intimate table, your gazes scanning the room for any sign of your target.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft jazz playing in the background provided a calming facade to the tension that lingered between them. Leon, with disheveled hair and a pair of sunglasses that only partially hid the evidence of a rough night, rubbed his temples and winced.

"Ugh, I think I might die. I can't believe you dragged me into this after last night. I swear, my head is splitting." he muttered, pretending to be reading the menu.

"This is a mission, Leon, not a vacation. You knew what you signed up for when you took that last shot. Now, pull yourself together. We need to find our guy, and your hangover isn't helping." you shot him a withering look, your eyes sharp beneath a cascade of your hair

"I just don't get why we couldn't have rescheduled this. I mean, who plans a stakeout the morning after an undercover party? It's like the universe is against me." Leon leaned back in his chair, wincing at the light filtering through the bistro's window.

"We don't have the luxury of rescheduling. This is our best chance to catch him off guard, and we can't afford any mistakes. Your lack of professionalism could jeopardize the entire mission. So, get over yourself and focus." You clenched your jaw, your frustration evident.

Leon sighed, realizing he had hit a nerve. He straightened up and took off his sunglasses, revealing bloodshot eyes.

"Fine, fine. I get it. No more complaints. Let's just eat and keep an eye out for our guy. Maybe the food will cure this hangover from hell." he said, waving his hand at the waitress.

"Good. We need to stay sharp. Our target is slippery, and we can't afford to miss any signs. Just remember, we're a married couple on a lunch date. Act natural." you nodded, your stern expression softening slightly.

As the minutes went by, the restaurant was an oasis of calm, its subdued lighting and plush furnishings a stark contrast to the pounding headache Leon was nursing.

Besides his mood and his complaints about the headache, you were the one who maintained a professional demeanor. However, your patience was wearing thin. The clinking of silverware and muted conversations formed a backdrop to your undercover mission.

"Can we make this quick? My head feels like it's about to split open." Leon winced, massaging his temples after minutes in silence.

"You brought this upon yourself, Leon. You can't let your personal life interfere with the mission. We have a job to do." You shot him a disapproving glance.

"I didn't expect last night to turn into a frat party. It was supposed to be a simple gathering." Leon sighed, regret etched on his face.

"Well, you should have thought about that before you started to behave like a pampered kid. But guess what, Kennedy? We can't change that now. We're on a timeline, and we can't afford mistakes. So, suck it up and focus." your eyes narrowed, your tone of voice sounding angry. I love you, his words, still echoing in the back of your head,

As he perused the menu, Leon's eyes flickered across the room, and he stiffened.

"There he is," he muttered, nodding discreetly toward your target who had just entered the restaurant.

"Perfect timing, Leon. Just what we needed." your gaze followed Leon's, and you cursed under your breath.

You two ordered quickly, your argument temporarily set aside as you two maintained the appearance of a normal, albeit slightly disgruntled, married couple. The target settled at a nearby table, engaged in conversation with an associate. As your food arrived, Leon's hangover-induced irritability resurfaced.

"Can we at least eat in peace before we tail him? I'm not in the mood for this undercover drama." he complains again.

"Your mood doesn't matter. We need to catch this guy. Finish your food quickly, and we'll tail him discreetly." you shot him a stern look.

Leon grumbled but complied, glancing over his shoulder at the target. The argument simmered beneath the surface, waiting for the opportune moment to erupt. As the two of you left the restaurant, the hangover weighed heavily on Leon, intensifying his annoyance. You kept your voice low as you two trailed the target through the hotel's corridors.

"Leon, I don't care about your hangover. We can argue later. Right now, we need to focus on the mission." you sharply told him in annoyance.

Leon shot back, his tone sharp, "Well, maybe if you were a bit more understanding, we wouldn't have to argue at all. This headache is killing me."

You shot him a pointed look but decided to let it go for the moment as you two approached the front desk to inquire about your room. The target was believed to be staying on one of the upper floors, and obviously, you two needed to gather information without raising suspicion. As you stepped into the elevator, Leon swayed slightly, earning a disapproving glance from you. The elevator doors closed, and Leon muttered:

"I'll be fine. Let's just get this over with."

The doors opened to a corridor adorned with plush carpeting and dimmed lights. You and Leon maintained their cover, acting the part of the honeymooning couple as you two made your way down the hall. Just as the both of you reached the door to the suspected target's room, a sudden chill crept up Leon's spine.

A group of imposing figures, undoubtedly the target's security detail, emerged from the elevator behind you. Your eyes widened as you discreetly tugged on Leon's arm, directing his attention to the unexpected threat.

"Leon, we've got company," you whispered urgently.

“Well, sweetheart, you won’t like this” Leon said, turning himself to you.

“What-”

Before you could even speak, you felt his lips crushing against yours. Something about his kiss made you feel something inside your chest. The taste of alcohol mixed with mint, the way his tongue danced inside your mouth, it was something you never felt and tasted before.

Leon tilted your chin upward, creating the perfect illusion of a stolen moment between two infatuated lovers. The security guards, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected display, hesitated in their approach. You felt him break the kiss, your eyes meeting with a shared understanding.

“That was close” he whispers, holding your hand as you two walk together in the corridor.

But you were left without any words. His kiss caught you completely off guard and for some stupid reason, you felt your legs were failing you. Something about the way Leon's lips pressed against yours sparked an internal conflict. His kiss was not one of disdain; it was fervent, almost desperate. In that moment, the line between pretense and reality blurred, and you found yourself torn between the mission and your own conflicting emotions.

As you walked in silence next to him, the tension between you two became palpable. Leon, ever the professional, maintained his stoic expression, his eyes scanning the horizon for any potential threats, even with the hangover state. You, on the other hand, couldn't shake off the unease that accompanied you every step. You stole a glance at Leon, his features carved in light of the hallway.

Suddenly, the tranquility of the night shattered as a series of sharp cracks pierced the air. Bullets whizzed past you two, sparking against the cobblestone streets. You and Leon instinctively dove behind the cover of a wall as the realization hit — you two were the targets now.

"Move!" Leon shouted over the chaos, grabbing your arm and propelling you forward.

The rhythmic staccato of gunfire followed you two, echoing through the maze of narrow alleys. The assailants were relentless, shadows in pursuit, fueled by an unseen vendetta. You two sprinted through the labyrinthine corridors, your breaths mingling with the desperate echoes of your footfalls. Leon's mind raced, analyzing escape routes and potential hiding spots. You, feeling your heart pounding, cast glances over your shoulder, your instincts sharp as you matched Leon's every move.

The honeymoon facade shattered as the two agents sprinted down the corridor, bullets whizzing past the two of you. Panic and urgency replaced the hangover-induced haze in Leon's mind. You two reached a stairwell, taking it two steps at a time, the footsteps drowned out by the chaos unfolding behind you.

As you two burst onto a lower floor, you spotted an emergency exit. Without hesitation, you burst through the door, finding yourselves in a garden. The adrenaline-fueled escape continued through the green labyrinthine surrounding the hotel, leaving the luxurious facade behind as you and Leon navigated the maze, chased by both the consequences of the cover being blown and the remnants of the security detail.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Apparently, the said billionaire found out about the two of you, and now, Leon and you had to run somewhere else safe, leaving all your belongings in the hotel. There were gunshots everywhere, and you had to fight for your dear life, protecting you and Leon with a marble statue as a form of barricade to prevent being shot.

“This isn’t how I expected my honeymoon to be,” Leon muttered, shooting one of the security guards.

“This isn’t a honeymoon either,” you replied, firing your gun at the guard, killing him with a perfect headshot. “We are not even married”

“Well, this isn’t how I imagined it, anyway. We need to get out, Ms. Kennedy,” Leon said, offering his hand to you, which you took without thinking twice. You started to run, with Leon covering your back.

You could hear the security guards running after you, two more gunshots. Likewise, you ran for your life, not daring to look behind you, knowing Leon was right behind you, making sure you were protected, which was very odd, considering the history between the two of you.

At the moment, it's the last thing you're worried about. After a few minutes of running, you managed to escape the guards and find a place to hide. You were breathing heavily, and shaking.

“Are you okay?” Leon asks you, looking at the direction you two came from.

“Why do you care?” you simply replied, coughing a little as you tried to catch your breath.

“Do you think I don’t remember what I said last night? C’mon, I might be a drunk asshole, but I don’t forget things easily.” Leon glanced at you, which was more sympathetic than usual.

“This isn’t fair. You can’t say things like that after treating me like garbage for years,” you snapped at him, finally letting your feelings go without any shame. “You can’t say you love me, and the next day you can’t barely look at my face. You can’t say you love me when the only thing that comes from your mouth is hate and disgust. This isn’t fair, and you can’t play like that with me”

After saying that, you decided to walk yourself out and leave Leon alone. Who the hell did he think he was? He had no right to play with your feelings like that. You were so angry at him for throwing that on your shoulders with no responsibility.

Besides, you had important things to deal with, not his bullshit. Your hands were shaking like crazy, and you realized that you had no control over your feelings, and this was very dangerous, especially in your line of work. You needed to calm yourself down, and you needed to do it fast.

Hours later, everything was quiet. Leon was nowhere to be seen, because you didn’t notice when he went missing in the first place, and you couldn't care less about him. It was obviously a stupid idea to try to get back to the hotel, knowing it would be heavily secured after what happened earlier. But, somehow, you felt something very wrong.

The gunshot noises out there were exactly what you didn’t want to hear. You heard screams and loud voices, and immediately, your hand fell to your gun. You heard footsteps, and by the sound, you knew this person was supporting his body weight on his left leg, and was limping heavily. When you were about to attack, it was him.

“What the hell?” you gasped in shock, seeing him limping and, of course, injured.

“I tried to get our comms back” he whimpered almost quietly, as you helped him sit down. He was breathing heavily, his hand pressing tightly on his ribs. “But, as you can see, it didn’t go well.”

“And you say I'm reckless, right?” you muttered, trying to see the size of the damage on him, although he whined again. “You could've died in there, asshole”

“Now I understand why you do things this way,” Leon chuckles, but then he groans in pain, his grip on his ribs getting tight. “It’s way more fun”

“Fun? Are you out of your mind, Kennedy?” you snapped at him. If Leon wasn’t injured at the moment, you would definitely beat the living shit out of him. “I don’t do things like that for fun!”

“Keep your voice down, sweetheart. I don’t want to get back home inside a coffin,” Leon said, as he pressed his hand on your mouth to keep you quiet. In the sudden silence, you were able to hear more footsteps, and Leon kept pressing his hand on your mouth. A few minutes later, everything went silent again.

“I’m not… okay” he mutters, and his eyes meet yours. Blue like the ocean. And then, you finally see the blood spot on his shirt — the same spot he was trying to hide from you. “I’m sorry”

“I swear to God, if you dare to die on me, I’ll personally kill you, Kennedy,” you replied, and then you started to press his wound to prevent him from bleeding to a certain death.

But he smiled. It was a faint smile, but he was really smiling at you. You saw him raise his hand, and he touched your hair, moving the strands that fell on your face. The way he was looking at you, so sad and weak, it was like he was saying goodbye.

“You look so... beautiful.” His voice seems weak, and his breath starts to become more shallow. “I guess… this is what angels look like”

“C’mon, Leon, don’t you dare die on me,” you said as you noticed yourself getting more anxious by the second.

He smiled again and kept looking at you with those beautiful blue eyes. Slowly, he started to close his eyes, and his breath got more shallow, indicating he was losing consciousness. The more you tried to keep him awake, the more he seemed lost. You were slowly losing him.

“Condor One! Condor Two,” someone called you two. It was your squad.

“We’re here” you shouted at them, your hands filled with Leon’s blood as you waved at your squad. “He’s injured and losing a lot of blood”

“Don’t worry, we’re taking you two,” the leader said as the team approached you with medical equipment.

You couldn’t describe the stress you felt with everything that happened in the meantime. Did you two succeed in the mission? Was it over? You couldn’t know. Not until you were sure Leon was safe and sound.

From the helicopter, you could see the sirens, the local police, and the agents from the government. It was almost unbelievable, but it was true. The operation was a success, after all. You glanced at Leon. He was sleeping, or at least he seemed to be.

You tried to rest, but it seemed unreachable. Your body was electric, filled with constant energy that prevented you from closing your eyes. You wanted to sleep badly, but your concern about him was enough to keep you awake. When the helicopter finally landed at the hospital heliport, Leon was immediately taken into surgery. As for you, you had no other option but to wait.

Hours later, you had no news about him, and the anxiety was eating you alive from the inside. At this point, your body was less tense than before, and the first signs of stress and tiredness were finally showing up. You were sitting in a chair, in an empty white hallway, waiting. The hours seemed to slip through your fingers, slowly.

You sighted a kid playing with a purple teddy bear, and for a moment, you started to wonder about the life you led. The choices you made and how you ended up in your job. It was weird to think that while other people had normal lives, you had to risk yours every day, to make sure they would live in a safe world.

It sounded selfish to think like that, but you had every reason to do so since you couldn’t have a normal life. That word didn’t exist in your dictionary. Nor in your days.

Then, you see yourself playing with Leon’s mother's ring on your finger. For a brief moment, you imagined how your life would be if you were married and raising kids. Then, you push away these thoughts; motherhood isn’t your style, not even a married life.

“Ms. Kennedy?” you hear the doctor call you, and the sound of Leon’s surname addressed to you like you were his real wife makes your heart ache.

“Is he okay?” Your voice sounded more hoarse than you thought it would, a small consequence of being silent for so long. The look on the doctor’s face said there wasn’t good news.

“Your husband has lost a lot of blood, but we managed to stop the bleeding, and the surgery went well. Our main concern is with his brain injury…” The doctor pauses for a brief moment, wondering how to tell you the next news. “But, unfortunately, he’s in a coma.”

The news came at you like a violent wave. Suddenly, the world around you stopped, and you couldn't hear anything else. Your eyes were wide open, your chest was burning and aching, and for some stupid reason, you didn’t want to believe those words. How could Leon be in a coma? It was your thing to play reckless, he had no right to leave you like this.

You saw the doctor talking to you, but you couldn’t hear anything; everything around you was running slowly. What the hell was he saying? His lips moved slowly, just like the rest of the entire world, but you managed to understand: he was asking you if you were okay or if you needed something.

You felt like you were drowning, unable to reach the surface, surrounded by darkness. You wanted to scream and cry, but you couldn’t. You felt trapped by an invisible force, holding you tight and keeping you shut.

It was the sight of Chris that made you turn back to reality, and finally, the scream that was trapped in your throat came out from the core of your lungs.

“It’s okay, I got you,” Redfield said quickly as he held you before you fell to the ground. Your legs were shaking just like the rest of your body. “It’s okay”

“It was my fault, Chris.” Your voice was muffled by desperate chokes and sobs. “He’s in a coma, and it’s my fault”

“It’s not your fault, okay? It could’ve happened to you or him. Leon knows what he does, and I’m sure he did that to protect you" Chris tries his best to comfort you, although it seems impossible at the moment. He still holds you tight, for which you are very grateful, because you know you’ll fall if he lets you go.

Leon had no one in his life. You knew that the moment he told you about the ring. The “family” he had consisted of Chris and Claire, Jill, and Rebecca. You had no room for this. Leon made that pretty clear years ago, but now everything is different. You had to tell everyone what went wrong, how he got injured, and why it ended like that. You had to describe the entire mission, you had to remember everything. Now you were sitting again, with Claire holding your hand, while Jill and Chris were talking with Rebecca. Your eyes were locked on your hands, still stained with his blood. You were completely shocked, with no reaction or words.

“He’ll wake up, I know he will,” Claire whispers as a way to comfort you and give you kind words.

“He said he loves me,” you managed to say, although you doubted Claire would hear it. You wanted to hold onto something real, that would help you deal with what was happening.

“He always did, I’m glad he finally told you that,” Claire said, and you were a little surprised she heard you. More surprised to hear something you thought would never exist.

“But I don’t think that’s true. He always hated me.” You finally look at her, your eyes seeing something different from the dried blood in your hands.

“Do you think Leon is capable of hating you? He’s so in love with you, he can’t even hide it,” Claire said, and then she smiled largely while holding your hands.

But you find it hard to believe those words. Your mind was conflicted between what Claire was saying and what Leon said before he fainted. You wanted desperately to believe it, but deep down, you weren't sure. You finally received authorization to see him, with the benefit of being his “wife” and a government agent, but when you stepped inside his room, seeing all those loud machines around his body and a giant bandage on his ribs, his clothes were perfectly folded in the chair. His skin was pale and cold to the touch. He was almost lifeless, and seeing him like that made you sob again.

“I’m sorry… I never wanted to see you hurt,” you muttered, hoping he would hear it. You held his hand, praying he would wake up. “If you can hear me, then come back to us... I miss you fighting with me”

But there was nothing — not even a small squeeze on your hand. You were trying to convince yourself that he heard you and that he was coming back to you, and that was the lie you were desperately trying to believe. How silly you were. How desperate and pathetic you felt. It could be days, weeks, months, or years, how could you possibly predict when he would wake up? It was up to him.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily, Kennedy,” you said last, as a single tear fell from your eye. You wanted to be brave for him.

And as an answer, he squeezed your hand weakly.

Three months later.

“Goddammit, this hurts!” Leon groaned angrily at you when you tried to remove the bandage from his ribs to clean it.

“Stop moving, asshole,” you said back, glancing at him and then rolling your eyes. “Then it won’t hurt”

“You’re so fucking gentle,” he muttered, taking a deep breath. You waited until he stopped moving so you could change the bandage.

“Hey, I’m not the one with open wounds,” you teased him, then finished removing the bandage, being extra careful with the stitches on his skin.

“How does it look?” Leon asks with a soft voice. You noticed that he never actually looked at the wound.

“Terrible, but healing,” you smiled kindly at him, cleaning around the wound with the antiseptic and the wet cotton. You saw his skin chilling, and soft groans coming from his mouth.

Leon hated seeing his scars. He hated having them; he hated knowing what caused them, which was why he barely sees himself in the mirror; he avoids his own image. One month ago, Leon woke up from his coma, and although he was very confused, at first, due to his brain injury, he had no memories of the mission or what happened before he got hurt. Chris had to explain everything to him like he was a toddler learning how to communicate.

“So… that was it,” Chris tells him, after explaining why he was in a hospital bed with a huge wound on his ribs.

“Shit… I’m tired,” Leon muttered, closing his eyes for a moment and trying to relax his beaten-up body on the bed. “Two months?”

“Yep. You slept like a baby,” Chris chuckled, making fun of the situation to lighten up his mood.

“Where is…” Leon started, as it seems pretty obvious that you weren’t there with Chris.

“Oh…” The smile on Chris’s lips disappeared slowly, and he became more serious, sitting more appropriately on the chair. “Well, um…”

For some unknown reason, Leon was anxious. He didn’t know why, but he felt eager to know why you weren’t there with him; he was sure he heard you say you missed him fighting with you, but at this point, he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or reality. And the way Chris kept looking at him made his heart beat ten thousand times faster. When Chris was about to tell Leon about you, someone knocked on the door, and when the person came inside, Leon felt disappointed to see it was a nurse with his medication.

“Mr. Redfield, you’ll have to leave now. The visiting hour ended a few minutes ago, and the patient needs to rest,” the nurse says, leaving the tray with Leon’s medication on his bedside table. Leon sighed, glancing at the window, while he laid his head on his pillow to rest.

“Before I go… I want you to have this,” Chris said, getting closer to his bed with something in his hand. Leon glanced back, curious. When Chris opened his hand, Leon saw his mother’s ring, and he felt sad. “You know, she was here with you the entire time”

“Then why is she not here now?” Leon asks, holding the ring in his hand and avoiding Chris’s gaze.

“Give time to time,” Redfield said before leaving his room.

Leon hated being in the hospital with different wires connected to his body. Nurses checked on him constantly, asking a lot of questions, taking him through thousands of exams to see if he was doing better or worse, and doing physiotherapy. They said the brain injury had damaged his body, and, besides the wound on his ribs, Leon had broken his arm and would have a disability in walking and doing normal things. Of course, with the proper therapy, he would walk again and have a normal life, but he needed to cooperate.

Leon had already convinced himself you didn’t care, but on the third week after he woke up, he was taken into another exam. One hour later, when he came back to his room, he found you asleep on the chair, wrapped around your jumper, seeming tired to the bones. The nurse helped him lay back on his bed, and he remained silent, just watching you sleep. He wanted to keep every detail about you, even the small ones. Suddenly, you moved on the chair and woke up, yawning. Nothing he had rehearsed in his head prepared him for this moment.

He had given up on hope, he thought you would never see him again. Maybe you had found another partner, or maybe you had moved on with your life. Perhaps you just didn’t care about him. Maybe and more maybe…

"Hey,” you said, noticing he was too shocked to even pronounce a word. “How are you?”

“Fine, I guess,” he managed to say, and he wanted to punch himself because he sounded very rude. “That’s not what I meant…”

But, to his surprise, you just smiled. Chris told you about his amnesia, he told you that Leon wouldn’t be able to walk for a long time because of the damage to his brain from the injury. You were hoping he didn’t remember what happened before he fainted that day. It would be easier for both of you.

“I came here because Chris told me you woke up, I wasn’t in the country, so…” you said, feeling your cheeks blush a little. He nodded quietly, and the expression on his face told you he was sad. “I had to finish our last mission. Do you remember anything?”

“Not so much, everything is a little messed up, and every time I try to remember something, my head hurts,” he says, taking a deep breath and laying his head on the pillow again. “I remember me in front of your apartment telling you about our mission; I remember giving you my mother’s ring; and the fight we had at the airport… I remember a few things from the hotel we were at, but nothing more… Sometimes I have a few flashbacks. I remember getting hurt trying to get our comms back, breaking my arm, but..."

“It’s okay, don’t force yourself. You know you’ll remember eventually,” you said to him, trying to give some comfort. “You’re alive and recovering, that’s all that matters now, Leon”

“It sucks being here… I want to go home, but people keep telling me I’m better here and that medical bullshit,” he sighs, then he looks outside his window again.

“About that… I’m here to offer something,” you said to him, already thinking it would be a terrible idea.

“What would that be?” he asks you, raising both of his eyebrows in a slightly curious tone.

“Come live with me…” you simply said, shaking both of your shoulders like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Until you recover, of course”

At first, having him live with you proved to be a difficult task, mostly because Leon thought he was a burden and strongly avoided his appointments. In his head, he could treat himself alone, he could take care of his wounds and do the chores in the house. However, he could barely leave the bed, and he complained every time you tried to convince him to attend his appointments. Even Chris tried to coax him into getting out of the house, but Leon refused like a pampered kid. It was very difficult.

“You know I can’t do everything on my own, right?” you asked him after finishing changing and cleaning the wound on his rib.

“I know, but… I’m sorry,” he says with a deep sigh, looking at you with guilt. “I know I’m making this more difficult than it should be…”

“It’s not your fault, but I really need you to understand that sometimes even the toughest agent needs help. You can’t avoid medical care forever, Leon,” you said, looking straight into his eyes.

“I’m an asshole, right?” He managed to smile a little, then he looked at you. “I never thanked you for taking care of me”

“What can I say? You didn’t make things easier, either.” You smiled at him, looking into his blue eyes.

“I have something I need to tell you,” Leon whispers, then bites his lower lip and avoids your eyes.

“Shoot me”

“I… remember what happened… before the coma. I remember the mission,” he says, finally taking the courage to look into your eyes. You decided to stay calm, but not cold. “I was scared, I never thought I would almost die… but then you were there with me, and I felt at peace”

“Why did you give me your mother’s ring?” you decided to ask. You needed to understand.

“Because it was personal, I wanted you to have something personal from me… I knew one day I would come close to death trying to get your ass out of danger, and I thought you would feel better having something mine,” he explained, and then, everything made sense. He truly cared about you.

“You’re such a fucking idiot, Kennedy.” You smiled at him, then you laughed.

“Hey… what’s wrong? Are you okay?” you asked after knocking on his door. He glanced at you, his eyes swollen after crying for God knows how long.

This entire month that you took care of him was enough to learn how to read him. Before, he was pure mystery — the person who hated you the most. Now you know when he’s happy, angry, or uncomfortable. You know how to decipher him, read his face, and understand how he feels.

Leon still sleeps in the guest’s room, but sometimes you can hear him wince and cry, and sometimes you can hear him sobbing. You woke up to the sound of him crying and decided to finally ask. You had been wondering for weeks, thinking he wouldn’t talk about this subject. But you needed to try it, anyway.

“I… it’s nothing, I’m okay,” he said, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes.

“C’mon, you can talk to me. We’re friends now,” you say again, sitting on the edge of his bed and smiling.

“It’s just a silly nightmare…” Leon whispers softly, looking at his arm plaster. You had signed your name on it, followed by Chris, Claire, Jill, and Rebecca. “It’s Raccoon City. The same night over and over again”

“You were there? I’m surprised,” you said to him, and he smirked slightly.

“I was a rookie cop, late as hell on my first day. I had recently graduated from the Police Academy,” Leon explains, gazing at the ceiling, then at you again. “I survived that night, met Claire, saved Sherry… then, they forced me to work for them, and here I am”

“Forced? What do you mean?” You raised your eyebrows, confused.

“It was a deal I made to keep Sherry safe… I never told this to anyone,” Leon whispers, and you imagine how cruel it was for him to be forced to work all those years for the government. “How about you? How did you end up being an agent?”

“Before the government, I was in the army. Special Forces. I worked with Task 141 across the earth, until I decided to leave before things went to shit” you tell Leon, which makes him glance at you completely surprised. “I miss my buddies Price, Roach, Soap, and Ghost”

“It’s so weird to think how our lives were different… I was forced to join the government, you decided to do it for yourself…” Leon whispers, analyzing his own choices in life. “Now I can truly understand why you work the way you do…”

“I made a lot of bad choices, I’ll admit that. But after everything I did in the past… you actually get used to your own method of working,” you say to him, hugging your legs. “Maybe that’s why I do things the way I do. I like the adrenaline and danger that come with it”

“I’m sorry for calling you reckless,” Leon said after a brief moment of silence.

“That’s okay, trust me. I've heard worse things before,” you chuckled.

Leon seemed more calm, although his eyes were still red and swollen. You heard the first drops of rain hitting his window, and the noise of the lightning outside announced the rain. For a moment, there was only silence between the two of you.

“I hate this stupid arm plaster,” Leon suddenly says, and then you laugh.

“But there are our names signed on it. And I made a drawing when you were asleep” You showed him the drawing you made. It was a cat and a few flowers.

“Flowers? Really?” Leon frowned, glancing at you.

His last appointment provided good news. His ribs seemed to be healing, and soon he would be able to remove the arm plaster. After the appointment, you drove Leon to his physiotherapy session, and for the first time after he woke up from the coma, he finally decided to cooperate with himself. For some unknown reason, he wasn’t grumpy today.

“What? They’re cute!” you protested while laughing at his reaction. “But I’m serious, you need to sleep now. Tomorrow you have that physiotherapy session and an appointment”

“Well, if you keep doing home exercises, soon you’ll be fully recovered,” the doctor tells him, sitting in front of you two.

“Home exercises?” Leon asks, looking briefly at you, knowing you would definitely force him to do his exercises.

“Yes. It’ll help ease the pain and help with your mobility.” She nods, noting something on the paper. “And, most important, you can’t avoid your appointments, Mr. Kennedy”

“Yeah… I’ll keep coming,” he said, his entire face red as a tomato.

When you drove him back home, he certainly wasn’t expecting a surprise from your little family. Claire, Rebecca and Jill decorated your entire apartment, while Chris went to buy food and drinks. Because of the thousands of pills he was taking, Leon wasn’t allowed to drink any alcohol, which you gladly thanked him for. He was better sober than drunk.

The smile on his lips and the way his eyes were shining were more than he could put into words. You noticed that Claire even bought party letter decorations that were hanging from your ceiling, with the sentence ‘Happy Birthday, Leon’ in blue and yellow.

“Come on, you guys gotta be kidding me” he laughs with happiness, hugging everyone carefully.

“What? You really thought we would forget your birthday, golden boy?” you tease him, drinking soda and giving him one cup.

“This is… amazing” Leon seemed lost in his own words. “I don’t deserve you guys”

After singing him the birthday song, you guys celebrated his birthday with those blue birthday hats and a special cake the girls baked for him. Chris was talking to him, while you and Rebecca were chatting about types of coffee. Jill and Claire seemed to be very focused on their own conversation about TerraSave.

“Guys… I wanted to thank everyone. I know sometimes I’m a pain in the ass, but after everything that happened to me in the past three months, I have a lot to thank for… especially you.” Leon glances at you with shyness. “You took me into your home, took care of me, and had to hear every stupid joke I made, even my grumpy humor”

“That was the hard part, believe me,” you say, winking at him, which makes everyone laugh.

“I know. I was a jerk, and we had a lot of arguments with each other, but recently I found out that…” he paused for a moment, certainly thinking about what to say. “Life can be shitty sometimes, and bad things can happen to us… and this last mission made me see things I thought would never happen to me. I nearly died, but I got a second chance, and I don’t intend to waste it”

You knew exactly what he was talking about. Living with him for the past three months proved to be an interesting task. You knew him, and that was enough. Hours later, it was only you and him, sitting on your couch as the rain struck against the window. The fireplace gives off a warm temperature inside the living room, and, despite the silence, you two are more connected than before.

“I must say, there’s one thing I’m sure won't change,” Leon laughs, looking at his hands, after a long time of silence. “Being almost killed truly made me see things…”

“Such as?” You lifted your head to look at him.

“First, I actually never asked to be reassigned to another partner. I only told you that because I wanted to see how you would react” he said, looking at you. “And…”

“What's the second?” You laugh at his confession, mostly because you knew that a long time ago.

“The second is… I really hate the way that I love you”

[justatypicalwizard]

A scrap from your book

Bakugo x reader, aged up, college! au, quirks don't matter, no warnings, just heartwarming

Roommate Bakugo who is forced to share a room with you for about three months due to unexpected construction works in the college apartment he occupied. The whole Bakusquad was moved to random rooms. To make it worse they were all shared ones. You agreed to take in a male occupant.

Roommate Bakugo who tries to spend as much time outside of the cramped college room as possible. He feels like he's kinda invading your privacy as well as just finding the whole situation uneasy.

Roommate Bakugo who has to complete a bunch of assignments but the library is packed in the late afternoon hours, the air thick with gossip, stress, sweat and annoyance. Bakugo finally wandered off to the dorm room to find some peace for his work.

Roommate Bakugo who spotts you always turn off your lamp and tune down the brightness on your laptop when he tells you he's going to sleep.

"You don't have to do that." He grunts, already wrapped up in heavy covers.

"I don't mind, you do the same." Because he does.

Roommate Bakugo who walks on you watching a film he loves. At first he just circles the small room mindlessly, more interested in the unwrapping dialogue between his two favourite characters than the laundry he's picking up.

"You wanna watch?" You ask, pausing the movie.

"No. I was going to do my laundry."

"I can wait, I can buy some snacks in the meantime, I was looking for an excuse to do it anyway."

So the two of you ended up finishing the film together, sitting on your bed.

Roommate Bakugo who talks to you more, geting used to the situation faster than he thought he would. You both sit by your desks working on the boring college stuff. He spotted you were trying hard, not slacking around and keeping most of your deadlines. Even if he didn't want to admitt it, he was impressed. Not that he didn't do the same, it's just rare to find a person who actually cares.

Roommate Bakugo who didn't know how to phrase a sentence. He was working on a piece of paper for the last two hours after an intense day of workout and his brain refused to cooperate anymore.

"Can I ask you for a favour?" Your face appeared from behind your laptop screen.

"Depends on what is it."

"I finished a short essay and I wanted to ask if you could read it and tell me if it makes sense."

Might as well take a break to refresh his mind. Bakugo read through the text and came to the conclusion that you were a good writer. A very good writer in fact.

"How would you say that in other words?" He asked after you were happy with your work, your laptop tossed aside as you lay on your bed scrolling through your phone.

You skipped to him, read through the sentence and gave him a paraphrase, one that he wouldn't think of himself.

"Thanks."

Roommate Bakugo who was eying you book collection for some time. You had a bunch. When he asked the two of you started talking and in went on and on and on. Finally, you stood up on your bed, the sheets dipping in where you stretched out to reach the highest shelve. Picking out a book you handed it to him.

"My favourite."

So he started to read it.

Roommate Bakugo who got a text from you that you wouldn't be back in the dorms for the night. After a shower he laid down in his bed, shirtless, with your book in hand. It was definitely worth it and he was way past the half already. Suddednly the doors opened only to reveal you, eying him up and down.

"The fuck you doing here?" Suddenly Bakugo felt a tad bit embarassed about his bare chest and lose sweatpants.

"My friend cancelled, sorry, you have someone over?" A small sly grin appeared on yoru lips.

"Jeez no, I'm just half naked."

"I don't mind." You shrugged, throwing your bag on the bed.

And what was that supposed to mean?

Nevermind. Bakugo wanted to get back to the story when he spotted something horrific. His hand gripped a nice chunk of the page, torn out of the book. He must have done it when you startled him with the grand entrance. It was readable as he only torn the cream white but it still looked nasty.

"Shit, I'm sorry." He didn't even look at you, opting on eying the damage, embarassement creaping up his cheeks for destroying someone's else belonging. One of yoru favourite belongings.

You came over, looked at the book and started to laugh.

"What's so fucking funny?" From embarassed Bakugo quickly merged into defensive.

"You look as if you killed my grandma. It's just a book." You saw that it didn't make him feel better, in fact the frown in his brows deepened. "I like my books being used. Lets treat it as a memory of you reading it. Give me the torn piece, please." Your hand reached out and he put the scrap into your open palm.

You skribbled something down on it using a pen fished out of your drawer. When you gave it back to him, the paper read 'Don't stress so much, dummy.'

"You can keep it." A smile brightened your face as you turned around to do other things.

Roommate Bakugo who would never admitt to anyone that he kept that scrap in the back of his phonecase at all times.

Roommate Bakugo who would never admitt to anyone that it took you roughly two months to steal his rock-like heart away.

[crguang]

wasted with longing, part 2

You have never been so bothered in your life. Why? You refuse to admit it to yourself yet.

friends with benefits, afab!reader, gp!kafka, smut, mutual masturbation, facetime/video call sex, 6k words

A/N: after two whole months… we’re so back (im sorry). i giggled a lot writing this because the simple concept of fuckboy kafka is so ridiculous but i swear there’s a plot somewhere

part one part three

The bright light of your laptop screen starts to burn your retinas, and you blink quickly to chase away the fatigue building up under your eyelids. The words on the page stopped mattering over an hour ago yet you’re in no position to throw your work to the wind; you’ve already made it this far and this presentation is due in exactly 12 hours and 33 minutes. You’re at a stage where you blame everything and everyone that has ever contributed in leading you to where you sit against your bed’s headboard, lights dimmed low as your fingers brush over the keyboard in clicking sounds you’re deafened to. Your anxiety is the only thing keeping you awake, and if you cared about your job just a little less, you would have quit right then. You thought you’d left all-nighters in the past with boring college classes and tiny dorm rooms but life has an irritating way of repeating itself. 

You let out the hundredth sigh of the hour and take a moment to breathe in slowly through your nose, head tilted to the ceiling and eyes screwed shut, before exhaling loudly. You steel yourself for what you know is at least another hour of bullshitting statistics that you will do your best to present confidently this afternoon, but you can’t even pretend to like what you do anymore. Working in research has never been the most exciting career despite the occasional interesting discoveries you’ve been a part of. Still, you needed a job that would allow you to afford to live on your own in a city far away from your nagging parents and you were getting good at denying the fact that it is sucking the soul out of you. Your days are mundane, your routine unsatisfying, and you long for something more like most adults your age. You can’t quit until you find a better alternative that will pay you the same or more, so you bite back another exasperated groan and go back to your slides.

You wouldn’t be in this position eight days ago. You’ve had a week to come up with this presentation and instead of working on it like the diligent employee you usually are, most of your time was spent with your head in the clouds, preoccupied by someone who isn’t thinking about you. It makes you sick how bothered you are. It’s not like anything changed between the last time you talked and the one before that, and you were never as distracted by the lack of response as you have been this past week. You ignored your responsibilities, went out with friends four days in a row to convince yourself of your fake nonchalance just to find yourself in trouble that could have easily been avoided, anxious over the career you’ve worked so hard to earn.

Nothing good comes out of allowing that woman a bigger place in your thoughts than the three square feet corner she deserves, you know that. What frustrates you the most is that you don’t understand where this sudden concern for her lack of honesty comes from. Lies flow out of her like she was born with them on her lips; again, you know that. Then, what is the issue? Without identifying the root of the problem, you’re left a snowball of jumbled thoughts and insecurity steadily getting bigger as it nears the foot of the mountain until it inevitably crashes into a tree and falls apart completely. Why say things she doesn’t mean? Are you disposable? You hate her. Does she hate you? You should block her number. Why do you care? Screw her. 

…You wish you could.

Your laptop screen turns dark and snatches you back to reality. You got lost in thought again. You run a hand over your face, using two fingers to rub the inner corner of your eyes. You’re pathetic. Even now with this feeling of impending doom looming over you, your mind drifts to her and attempts to find reason behind her actions when there is likely none. Your work is important to you, she is not. Yet, you’re incapable of focusing on the PowerPoint in front of you. You start to wonder if you should lie down, rest your eyes for a few hours and finish the presentation when you wake up, right before you get ready to leave for the office. It would be cutting it extremely close, but you can’t think clearly anymore and the stress gets more paralyzing as the minutes go by. Another tired sigh escapes you. Maybe you simply need to relax a little, perhaps with some scalding tea. 

You push your laptop aside and stretch your body on the covers, arms over your head like a lazy cat. You’ll prepare a cup of tea to soothe your muscles then you’ll finish your work and go to bed. If you lie to yourself enough times, you believe you can make it. You straighten up and smooth down your hair. You’re about to stand up when a familiar ping! near you announces a new text message. You reach for your phone on your nightstand, thinking perhaps one of your friends got drunk again and needed a ride home, and tap the screen to open your notification center. 

You stare at the screen until it turns black, tap it so it lights up again and repeat the process a couple more times as your mind processes what your eyes are seeing and the implications behind it. You almost can’t believe the message you just got and have to click the notification to open up the private conversation; there, at 2:29 AM, Kafka sent you a video. You can’t make out much from the blurry cover, though the lightning seems low like it was filmed during the late evening. Your thumb hovers over it for a moment, wondering if she even meant to send that to you since she hasn’t texted or called since the last time you hooked up. In hindsight her behaviour is not so unusual, you thought you were used to her elusive ways but if the past week has taught you anything, it’s that you obviously expect something from her. Honesty, basic human decency— to not leave you feeling like a wet towel discarded in the laundry bin after she’s used it.

“…Fuck it.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you despite your self-pity at the prospect of always making yourself available for her no matter the time. It’s a coincidence, you tell yourself. The two of you have many of those. You press the play icon on the video and it expands to the full screen. The camera shakes a little, then steadies to show half of Kafka’s body from an inclined angle and part of her face, peach lips on display. She’s wearing a strapless dress, the kind only worn to impress, with a pearl necklace over her collarbone; it’s your first time seeing her in something other than casual clothes. You have to admit that you wish you could’ve seen the whole outfit, if only to… You don’t know. 

Kafka is sitting on a bed judging by the white sheets you can spot, and you blink several times at the unmistakable outline of her cock and hard nipples through the material of her dress. You watch in disbelief as she pulls the fabric up to her waist, revealing the garter belt around one of her thighs. Her hand slithers between her breasts and down her stomach to finally disappear under her clothes, but the way she begins stroking herself is purposely obvious. The head of her cock creates a tent meant to remind you of how big she is, and she pumps her shaft steadily, her lips parting slightly to let out low hums of pleasure. You stare, unmoving, unaware of your pulse’s quicker pace as Kafka jerks off on video, the erotic tone of her long moans filling your bedroom, and you don’t register turning up the volume a bit more. Her hand speeds up a touch, you think she must have already been hard before recording because she clearly won’t last much longer, but instead of rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all, you find yourself hoping she’ll take off that dress and give you a real show. Kafka’s breathing becomes heavier, her moans less controlled, and from this angle, you notice the movement of her hips eager to meet each stroke along her cock. Her thumb swipes over her sensitive tip and her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth at the pleasant sensation. Not a single word is uttered, you can’t hear anything in the background either— not that you were listening for it— it’s just the sinful sounds of her throaty hums and her fingers around her dick. Half a minute passes before her breath hitches in a sharp gasp, and you know she’s going to come right before she does. Your thighs squeeze together at the breathy moan that spills from her mouth, her hand still gently stroking herself. Her lips stretch into that teasing smile you can picture with your eyes closed, and the video ends. 

You’re harshly pulled from the daze you were in, staring at your phone. You don’t know what to think, she ignores you for a week then sends you a video of her masturbating at two in the morning with nothing else attached. You can’t deny that it had the desired effect on you; your body feels hotter under your sleeping clothes and your thighs are still pressed together to ignore the throb between them, but once again you attempt to figure out the reasoning behind what she does and come up empty. There’s no use in trying to pry open a steel safe that is sealed shut, so why do you try over and over like you have nothing better to do? Why show up with blowtorches and lock picks when your presence is unwanted inside?

Kafka uses you for pleasure, and you use her the same. That is the nature of your relationship. So, you decide to take that video at face value and press replay. Leaning back against the headboard, you bite your cheek as Kafka’s hand travels up and down her veiled cock while your own restlessly traces shapes into the skin of your thigh. It wanders up your body to cup one breast under your shirt, thumb softly circling a stiffening nipple. You pinch it between two fingers at the same time Kafka lets out a pretty moan and you feel arousal dampening your underwear at the various stimuli. The video ends before you can move on to your thighs and you have to replay it again, and again, to properly build up your orgasm before you’re needy enough to slip a hand under your sticky panties. Your middle finger applies pressure on your puffy clit in tight little circles, jolts of pleasure shooting through you and tightening your stomach.

Eyes half-lidded, you forget all about your work to prioritize the need in your cunt, unconsciously matching Kafka’s pace and wishing she was there to take care of you the way only she knows how. Your hips move with the fingers that rub between your wet folds in a messy pattern. You breathe in sharply through your mouth when one of them finds your clit again and firmly toys with it. You’re so aroused, so wet and needy, but watching Kafka’s playful performance through a phone screen with only half of her body shown and her cock hidden from sight isn’t enough. Desperation builds within your lower belly as you inch a finger past your entrance, barely biting back a breathy moan at the feeling. It sinks in effortlessly, so you add another after adjusting to the slight stretch of it rubbing your inner walls. Your other hand holds the phone closer to your face like that will make Kafka seem more tangible. You pump two digits into your pussy, coating them in your arousal, and it feels so good, has your thighs spreading further apart, but it’s not enough. 

A frustrated sigh leaves you. You don’t think before exiting the video and pressing the video call button. The line rings once, twice, and your fingers slip out of you as you wait to see if it’ll connect. After a few more seconds, you choose to save face and go to hang up just as it connects with the other line and Kafka’s smirking face comes into view. You blame the stutter of your chest on your arousal. She blows smoke through her mouth and faces away from the camera for a moment to put out the cigarette you caught her smoking. She’s in casual clothes once again, and by the lightning, you infer that it’s likely afternoon wherever she is. That video she sent must have been filmed earlier than the time it was received, it might also be an older one from before you met. You mistake your disappointment for annoyance. 

“What is wrong with you?” Your stern voice has a shaky edge to it that Kafka definitely notices. Her smile widens an inch. 

“You look a little… flushed. Saw something you like?”

“Fuck you. It’s almost three in the morning.”

“Is that how late it is there? Mmm, it slipped my mind.”

“Like I’m supposed to believe that,” you put down the phone for an instant, pulling your pyjamas down your legs to toss them onto the bed. You bring the device back up and recline on the pillows, holding it high enough for Kafka to have a view of your torso and the stiff nipples poking through your half-ridden shirt. 

Kafka’s lowered gaze unapologetically trails down your upper body. You cup your breast, softly kneading the soft mound between your fingers, and watch her eyes darken with desire.

“I can’t come over.”

You roll your eyes. “I didn’t ask you to. Just need to hear you.”

“Cute. What if I’m not alone?” Her tone is teasing but she does look up from the screen as if someone could walk by and catch you touching yourself. 

“Figure it out.”

“Bossy… And so aroused, aren’t you? From a simple video, no less.”

You let the confident drawl of her words wash over you, ignoring her attempts at riling you up further to focus on the familiar pitch of her voice. It’s rough, intentionally slowed to keep people’s attention solely on what she has to say and control the pace of the conversation, dripping like syrup. You relax into the mattress and let your hand wander down the valley of your breasts, caressing the curves of your stomach. You’re already turned on and aching for release, each brush of your fingertips against your skin requires restraint not to slip a hand between your thighs and circle your clit. Your little show seems to give Kafka a taste of her own medicine, she observes you for a while, her gaze piercing through the veil of lust over her irises. 

“Enjoying yourself?”

“I would if you talked me through it,” you reply, expectant, lips parting as your hand teasingly disappears below the camera to massage the flesh of your inner thigh. 

Kafka hums, amused and intrigued. You’re sure she can tell how worked up you are and is debating helping you or leaving you wanting. Then she moves, the camera following her every step, and walks somewhere you hope is a secluded room. You don’t recognize her surroundings, she seems to be inside a building but the phone is too close to her face to show anything else properly.

“Did I wake you?” She asks on the way, barely looking away from the screen to watch where she’s going and instead focusing on how your hand travels back up your abdomen, lifting your shirt and revealing more of your chest as it goes. 

“No, but it was a welcomed distraction. Walk faster.”

Kafka laughs at your impatience, the sound lighter than her usual arrogant or mocking chuckles and betraying her genuine amusement. There’s a fluttering sensation behind the walls of your heart like the wings of a panicked bird. 

“Why? You in a hurry?”

“Yes.”

Kafka enters a room drowning in sunlight, brighter than wherever she was before. You hear the sound of the door closing, then a lock turning before she walks further into the room to sit at what you presume is a desk. The phone is placed far enough from her frame to allow you a full view of her upper body over the wooden surface and the twin-sized bed behind her. The covers are unruffled, the walls barren and white, and you think she might be in a simple hotel room. She leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other and resting her cheek against the back of her hand. The index finger of her free hand absentmindedly taps the desk’s surface, mirroring her steady heartbeat. She gazes at you like you’re the most interesting sight she’s seen in days. 

“You look so needy… desperate for my touch.” Kafka drinks in the image of you sprawled on your bed, the lower half of your left breast exposed to her hungry eyes. Her mind conjures up many ways she would touch you if she were there, feeling your stumbling breaths in the crook of her neck. “What’s the matter? Can’t come without me anymore?”

Irritation swirls in your gut, mixing with the arousal pooling in your belly at her nonchalant arrogance. Her self-assurance infuriates you mostly because it’s not entirely unfounded; you do wish she was present in person to fuck your worries away but she could be on the other side of the planet for all you know, doing Aeons know what. You don’t have a retort, and you’re in no mood to be teased any more than you felt watching that short video of Kafka stroking herself. 

“It goes faster this way,” you lie.

“Mmm… Show me how you touch yourself when I’m not there.”

Her words make your pussy throb. You bite your lip, adjusting your hold on the phone and lowering the camera so she can’t see past your mouth but has a better view of your body. From this angle, the waistband of your underwear is visible just under your stomach. Your fingers dig into your pliable breast, kneading the mound like she usually does to you, occasionally toying with the nipple for the pleasant sensation that ripples through you and causes your thighs to twitch. Kafka’s intense gaze, deeply pleased at your immediate compliance, excites you like nothing else. You know she’s not as unaffected by the sight as she seems to be, her finger drums on the desk a tad faster when you twist your nipple and part your lips to exhale audibly. Your hand leaves your chest and you lower your phone further to follow its path across your torso until it reaches the band of your already slick panties. You sneak a finger under the thin material and Kafka speaks up again.

“Take them off. Let me see you.”

Hesitation takes hold of you for a second, and then you obey her sultry command, shifting to pull the underwear past your hips and down to your ankles. You angle the phone to provide her with a clear view of your wet cunt, breath hitching as Kafka unconsciously wets her lips and the drumming noise stops completely. She’s a statue of desire on the other side of the screen, her heavy stare locked on your fingers spreading your lower lips apart, puffy clit on display. You don’t wait for any other instructions, your need is too great to go unchecked a minute longer; you use your index to circle the bud in quick, desperate motions. Your body’s temperature rises a few degrees and a short, involuntary moan spills past your lips. Your eyes are tempted to close under such stimulation but you want to see Kafka’s every microexpression, every twitch of her mouth and fall of her chest, the flex of her hand against her cheek and the movement of her irises following your ministrations.

“Are you picturing me? My hands on your body, touching you just how you like it?”

You suck your bottom lip into your mouth to seal another soft moan. “Yeah…” 

Kafka’s fingers are skilled and precise, stimulating the most sensitive parts of you, some of which didn’t exist before she touched you. She’s learned you by heart as one does a music sheet and makes you sing in a way impossible to replicate alone, an artist missing their accompaniment. You imagine her palms brushing across your chest, teasingly squeezing one breast while her lips ghost over the skin of your jaw, trailing wet kisses up to your cheek. You imagine her slender fingers sinking into your inner thighs to keep them spread before her, drinking in the erotic sight you create under her. You swipe at your clit, each breath heavier than the one before, and observe her body language; how she uncrosses her legs and her hand on the desk disappears beneath the surface, how she tucks away a stray strand of hair so it doesn’t obstruct her vision, the apparent lust in her eyes almost turning their color a shade closer to magenta. Her attention feels like the many cocktails you drank this last week, smoldering down your throat and intoxicating your every nerve. It tightens your lower belly and makes you throb, entrance gushing even when she’s likely thousands of miles away. Your orgasm builds and builds, pleasure steadily mounting and promising salvation the closer you get to the edge. 

If her camera was positioned better, you would have seen her pointer and middle fingers drawing circles on her thighs not unlike how you’re stimulating your aching clit, slowly inching higher until they softly stroke the prominent swell over her shorts. You would have been privy to them slipping under her clothes, past her boxers, to caress along her cock from tip to base and draw a sharp intake of breath from her. You’re too lost in the pleasure to notice her next swallow as she wraps a hand around herself and masturbates in tandem with your heavy exhales. Just as you did, she pictures your wandering hands, your warm tongue licking broad stripes up her cock and the quiver of your brow when you struggle to take her into your mouth. You look up at her prettily through wet eyelashes, eager to please, and you suck her dry as she paints your throat white. 

Your camera trembles, you struggle to keep it still while you work to make yourself come, digits stuttering on your clit with quiet moans on the tip of your tongue. You’re so close that you barely compute what Kafka is saying.

“You look about ready to come. Are you going to come just from the sight of me?”

She sounds way too pleased for your liking but you can’t bother to care at this moment, all that matters is your impending release. You nod quickly.

“Yeah? Let me hear you.”

“Fuck…” you manage to breathe out, hips desperately bucking into your hand, chasing relief from the pressure building in your belly. 

You don’t contain your pitiful sounds of pleasure at Kafka’s request and a soft cry rips from your throat as you finally burst. You come hard, thighs closing together and trapping your hand between them, jolts of pleasure running down your body like a thousand little shivers until you’re a shaking mess on the bed. Eyes screwed shut with the intensity of your orgasm, you miss Kafka’s parted lips and unyielding stare roaming over your arching form, her thumb applying mind-dizzying pressure on her leaking tip under her shorts to tease herself. You take a minute to calm yourself, she takes in the movement of your breasts rising and falling with your chest, imagining wetting them with her tongue so they glitter stunningly in the light when she pulls away. She strokes herself faster and the sound of her satisfied hum helps you realize what she’s doing.

“Hah… This is what you wanted, huh?” You bring your phone higher, circling your areola with two cum-coated fingertips and relishing in the way her eyelids droop. “Sending me that little video to tease me so I’d call and help you jerk off?” 

Kafka’s low chuckle turns into a pleased sigh at the end as she touches herself just right, smearing pre-cum all over her throbbing cock. 

“I wanna see.”

She picks up the camera and angles it so you have a view of her cock straining against her clothes. The silk of her glove is heaven along her skin, and with the microphone closer to her face you can hear the shallow breaths she releases on her journey to relief. No doubt the friction is dulling her mind, reducing her to her urgent need to come. Your tongue flicks over your upper lip and Kafka almost groans, still watching you intently like she’s making up scenarios of you on your knees with your head bobbing up and down her thick cock. The next time she takes you is already planned out in detail, you’ll be so utterly ruined that you won’t be able to beg her for more.

“I’d get you there quicker if you were here.”

“Mmh… Soon.”

You refrain from rolling her eyes at her obvious lie. Spoken words out of her lips mean nothing, especially with pleasure fogging her mind. Kafka’s following sharp gasp lets you know she’s close to falling apart; you lift your sticky fingers to your mouth, making a show of licking them clean how you would her shaft, and this time she doesn’t suppress the throaty, blissful noise that was sitting on her tongue. She sears your performance in the back of her eyelids and pumps her cock with purpose, orgasm imminent. Her hips jerk upward as her release crashes into her in toe-curling waves of pleasure, hand stuttering around her length and cum staining her underwear and glove. She moans unashamedly, knowing what it does to you, and her eyes flutter shut only for the instant it takes to compose herself afterwards. Her hand leaves her shorts, she brings her wet fingers to the light and smiles up at you. 

“Thanks.” Without any underlying cockiness, there’s nothing but appreciation when she addresses you. 

You don’t meet her gaze, averting your eyes while you sit up and smooth down your hair. Now that the tension in your muscles has dissipated, you’re reminded of why you were up this late in the first place and the work that still needs to be completed before work some hours later. You sigh tiredly, but your mind is clearer and you feel a spike of energy to finish your presentation, invigorated from your previous orgasm. Maybe you should be the one thanking her.

“What’s wrong?” 

You look back at Kafka. “I hate my job.”

“You should quit, then.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Isn’t it?”

“…And do what?” You ask flatly.

“Whatever you want.”

You stare at her momentarily, wondering what kind of reality she must live in where everything is available for the taking. Your studies were largely influenced by the constant pressure your parents put on you to get a sustainable income, and you were too preoccupied with your grades to ponder the what-ifs. They sacrificed quite a bit to have you enroll in one of the Intelligentsia Guild’s schools, your academic success was the least you could do to settle that debt somehow. You don’t care for mechanics but it was a relatively easy subject to study, so you picked it. You’re good at what you do, despite this job not being what you dreamed of doing for the rest of your life. Now, you’re not sure if you even have dreams. You have some skills, sure, but what do you want?

Kafka’s looking at you like she’s figuring you out. You don’t know what she aims to find but a childish part of you hope she likes it. You shake your head as if the thoughts would evaporate with the movement and stand from the bed.

“I should finish my work,” you say on the way to the bathroom, flicking the light open. 

“I need to go too.” Kafka pauses, seemingly considering something, then continues, “Do you have plans on Thursday?”

The question is unexpected, it takes you a few seconds to come up with an answer. “Apart from work, I don’t think so. Why?”

“You should stay home. Skip work.”

“Why would I do that…?”

“Do you trust me?”

“No.” The reply leaves you before you can think about it, but it’s the truth. Kafka has never given you any reason to trust her up till now, you don’t even believe half of the things she says. Trusting her for anything would be incredibly foolish.

Her eyes narrow a bit, though that small smile stays on her lips. Your confusion must show on your face, and you have the impression that her demeanor has gotten more serious. 

“Trust me now. I have to leave, but I hope you take my advice. If not… Well, I’ll see you soon.”

“Wh—?”

The video call disconnects. Did she just hang up on you?!

After a quick shower and a change of sheets, you end up completing your assignment in around 40 minutes and getting a few hours of sleep before you have to leave for work. The day is long, and your anxiety intensifies with each passing hour but you present your project idea with little to no problem. The rest of the week passes quickly with no further messages from Kafka, but you stop expecting her to hit you up for anything other than sex so you get better at hiding your disappointment, enough that you’re able to focus on your job like the development of the past two weeks never happened. On Thursday, you wake up for work and sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone open on the private conversation between you and Kafka, debating with yourself whether you should ask her to clarify her last words to you. You try to recall her expression when she said them. Reading her is hard, her behavior is too well-rehearsed to be peeled to pieces by anybody— and you guess that is what you are; anybody. You feel like an idiot as you dial your office to call off work. 

With nowhere to go, you spend the day at home watching shitty TV until the sky begins its descent in the sky, catching up on shows you previously had no time for. You do go out for groceries in the afternoon to cook something nice for yourself once dinner comes around, but your day is mostly boring and uneventful. You’re lying on the couch, half-lidded eyes barely focusing on the bright TV screen as it plays the same sitcom you’ve been watching for almost two hours when your phone rings. The noise wakes you, you blink rapidly and reach for the device, accepting the call without looking at the contact ID. 

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Himeko’s musical voice sounds from the other line. 

“Hime?”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

You rub your eyes with a hand and sit up to pause your show. “No, not really. How’s trailblazing going?”

“It was kinda tough the last few weeks but nothing we couldn’t handle. What about you? Last time we talked you were pretty busy too.”

“I’m good, work has been a bit demanding lately because of this secret project thing I can’t really talk about, but nothing eventful has happened, except…” You cut yourself off. 

“What is it?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Oh? Now I definitely want to know. Let me guess… It’s that lady again.”

“Lady?” You repeat with a laugh, “There is nothing ladylike about the way she f—”

“Ew. I get it.” You hear shuffling on the other side, like Himeko is walking from one place to another. “You were complaining about her last time, what happened now?”

“More complaints.”

“I can’t understand why you won’t end things if all you’re going to do is get annoyed every time you see each other. Learn to walk away from unnecessary grievances, they only pollute your thoughts.”

You stand from the couch and walk towards the kitchen, opening the fridge to pull out the stuff you’ll need for dinner. “The sex is really good. Like, great. Like, mind-blowing. Toe-curling, even.” You can almost hear Himeko’s eye roll. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, I don’t know why she has to be so infuriating. It’s obviously a case of big ego, but there’s something more in there. She just won’t let me see it.”

“You’re practically strangers. No wonder.”

“She’s been inside me. I wouldn’t call us strangers.”

“Do you know anything about her apart from her name?”

You pause with one hand around a carton of heavy cream. A door slides shut on the phone. You don’t have to think long to know the answer to that question, but you’re a little ashamed of it. Ashamed and disappointed, because it’s not by lack of trying; Kafka treats every attempt at getting to know her beyond the bounds of your relationship like a battlefield where she has to lie to survive. There’s a constant distance between you no matter how physically close she gets and it’s beginning to drive you mad. It was hot at first, the air of mystery around her is what drew you to her in that clothing store. Months later, it’s simply an obstacle you can’t jump over.

“Fine,” you reply with a sigh, closing the fridge and putting the carton on the counter, “you have a point. But it’s not like I haven’t tried, she just…”

“Doesn’t value you for anything other than sex?”

You don’t respond, mouth curving in a frown. That hurt your feelings, even though you know Himeko is only being honest because she hates this situation for you. She disapproved from the start, said you weren’t the type to have no strings attached, and she was right. You didn’t listen; Kafka is a splash of excitement in an otherwise pretty boring life, unraveling her takes skill and effort, and it is much more gratifying than a research well done. However… perhaps it’s time you do.

“Was that too far?” Himeko asks, voice soft. “I’m sorry. You deserve better than someone who brushes you off constantly unless they want something from you.”

“I know…” 

There’s a sudden knock at your door and you furrow your brows as you look at the time on your phone. You’re not expecting anyone and you’re not a fan of people showing up unannounced in general, still, you start making your way out of the kitchen to the front door. 

“We had an agreement, though,” you continue, “so it’s not like she owes me anything. I’m the one asking for too much.”

“You want to make connections with people and that is a beautiful thing. If she can’t see that, then she isn’t worth your time.”

You reach the front door, unlock it and turn the handle. “You’re probably r—”

The rest of your sentence dies on your tongue. In the hallway of your apartment building stands a panting Kafka, coat in one hand while the other is pressed hard against her bloodstained shoulder. Her white shirt is tainted with the seeping liquid which turns her glove a deep violet color, blood spatter over her torso and some spread onto her cheek as if she attempted to wipe it off. She’s hunched forward instead of her usual straight posture and the sunglasses over her tussled hair are cracked. You’re frozen where you are, a dozen thoughts buzz inside your head like restless bees and keep you from uttering a word; dread, worry, confusion, you can’t name them all. You have trouble computing what you’re looking at. Kafka looks up at you with the small smile she wears like armor. Even now, her nonchalance annoys you.

“Hey.”

The sound of Himeko calling your name over the phone and asking you if everything’s alright shakes you from your stupor. Your movements are slow, delayed, as you turn your head towards the device close to your ear and speak, “I’ll call you back.”

You hang up without hearing the response. 

[mandarinmoons]

so basically, it’s Spencer and reader’s 3 month anniversary, and so reader made them matching bracelets or some sort of matching gift. he’s so appreciative of the gift and vows to wear it all the time and he goes into work with it. Derek or Emily playfully teases him about it because it’s his first real relationship and he’s basically got heart eyes for u and is wearing the gift. but ofc they’re just happy to see Reid content in a relationship and it’s out of love for him that they joke

Your tongue poked out of your mouth in concentration as you carefully thread the beads. A blue bead after a purple one and a pink and green one after the next few, the color choices didn’t exactly match but you didn’t mind, you were doing it based on how you felt and who you were feeling towards.

It was yours and Spencer’s three month anniversary coming up and you hadn’t been this happy in a while, if ever. You thought that little tokens like matching bracelets between couples were adorable and adopted to try and make some of your own. You took inspiration from all the crazy & colorful socks Spencer has in his wardrobe and wanted to see if you could make something akin, while also adding a few details that aligned with you.

Once the bracelets were done, you put one on yourself and wrapped the other one in gift wrapping, albeit it being done poorly it didn’t matter as it was the inside that counts.

You’ll never forget the joy in Spencer’s eyes when he unraveled the mess of colorful beads from the crinkly paper. He held it up and admired each bead carefully and tried to figure out exactly why each color had been chosen.

“Don’t think about the concept too much now, I made it by feeling not logic.”

Spencer grinned as you chuckled and enveloped you in a hug, his lips pressing a kiss into your hair, “That does seem to be the way you do things.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, would you like to do the honors?”

“Of course.”

Pulling back you took the bracelet from Spencer’s hand and slowly put it on his wrist.

“It fits perfectly.”

“It does, doesn't it? A starter wedding ring if you might.”

Spencer knew that you were just joking, but God knows how long he could hold it out until he actually was on one knee in front of you.

Walking into work, Spencer’s eyes darted back to the bracelet he was wearing every time it came into his peripheral vision. His lips curled up into a smile and his thumb brushed over the beads as he was reminded once again how much he loved you.

Spencer was brought out of thoughts by hearing chuckling.

“You got some new jewelry, pretty boy?”

Derek patted Spencer on his back and grabbed his wrist to look at the bracelet more closely.

“That must’ve taken a long time to make.”

“Ask Y/N, they made it.”

“Did they now?”

Spencer freed his hand from Derek’s grasp and nodded as he massaged the area Derek had a tight hold on.

“Now that’s adorable. I wish I had someone to do arts and crafts with.”

Spencer excused himself and went over to his desk to start with his work, and to try to hide the fact that he could feel his cheeks turning scarlet red. Morgan always had a way of tearing down his confidence, even if he meant it in a playful “brother” like way, it still got to Spencer at times and he didn’t always know if the things Morgan said were supposed to be taken in a good or bad way.

As the day went on, Spencer’s focus was turned to his work but he occasionally heard snickers coming ahead. He saw his teammates discussing something while glancing his way and he knew that the topic of the bracelet was in question.

Spencer was a very private person and the topic of you had come up only a few weeks ago and it had been a complete accident. The team were out in a nearby bakery, ordering some treats when Spencer ordered an extra one to bring you later. When asked about the extra donut, Spencer blushed and stuttered out that it was for you, and that’s how the team learned about the special person who had made Spencer the happiest he’d been since his last relationship.

Spencer felt his eyes drooping and saw it as a sign that his body needed some coffee. Quickly rising to his feet, he tried to maneuver his way past everyone so as to not become a topic of ridicule again. Derek called out to him, but Spencer walked ahead until he was in the kitchen and turned the coffee maker on.

A moment later, Derek walked into the kitchen and stood next to Spencer and watched him pour the coffee into his cup.

“Have you got something on your mind?”

“What?”

“You’ve been ignoring us all day, what’s up?”

“I just haven’t felt like talking.”

“That’s not the Doctor Reid that I know.”

Spencer shrugged and Derek chuckled as he realized what could’ve been the reason why Spencer was so quiet.

“You know I didn’t mean any harm.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I think it’s awesome, you know? I’m glad you found someone to be with, we all are. I’m sorry if it came off in a mean way, but I’m proud of you, I really am.”

The frown that had been present on Spencer’s face for the entire morning had now been replaced with a shy smile. Hearing someone be happy for him meant a lot, and it meant even more that it was coming from Derek Morgan.

“I’m still going to tell Y/N what you said.”

“Oh c’mon now, you know they won’t let me live it down ‘til the end of times.”

“That’s the whole point.”

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal @cumulo-stratus @themarauderseraslut @gayfor-rosadiaz @gubsbuubs @multifandomsimp69 @chyozai

If you'd like to be removed from the taglist send me a DM or a message in my inbox

If you want to be a part of my taglist go here!

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[megxplryxb]

Just thinking about how Steve Harrington is completely obsessed with your pussy.

Minors DNI!

Steve Harrington always classed himself as the ultimate boob guy.

Big or small, it didn't matter, Steve didn't discriminate.

Once he got to see them, touch them, play with them, squeeze them, suck them, bite them, lick them, he was happy.

Then you came along, all sweet and innocent and oh so pretty.

A heatwave had taken over Hawkins in the summer of 87' and you were on your way to Family Video with your friend, who was dropping back a copy of Footloose four days late.

You'd been at the community pool all day, so you were just wearing a bikini top and denim shorts when you entered the store.

You were rummaging through the horror section, cringing while your friend tried her best to flirt with the insanely cute guy behind the counter so he wouldn't charge her a late fee (again).

What you didn't notice was that he hadn't heard a word of your friends excuses, too preoccupied by your bright pink bikini and freshly tanned breasts spilling over the top.

Steve was practically drooling at the mere sight of you, little water droplets from your wet hair, sliding down your cleavage, the air conditioning in the store making your nipples a little more noticeable through the light material of your bikini. Christ, you were fucking gorgeous.

He was praying you wouldn't ask for help finding some movie out on the rack because his dick was rock hard and the only thing shielding him was the tall desk he was standing behind.

Your friend eventually noticed him staring at you and not her, deciding to use his obvious interest in you to her advantage. "She's single, you know? I could totally get you a date if you forget about the late fee policy...Steve?" She smiled, playing with his name tag.

He took another glance in your direction and when you noticed him staring at you, you smiled back, pulling wet strands of hair behind your ear, blushing brightly. You were fucking adorable and he knew he was already done for.

"Consider it forgotten." He smirked, before your friend went to grab your hand, dragging you towards the counter to introduce you to Steve Harrington.

Now, you'd been together for three incredible months and he was downright smitten with you.

You were still a virgin when you started dating and Steve was totally happy to take it slow, content with occupying himself with your boobies until you were ready for more.

There was something about you being untouched that really turned him on though. The innocence, the purity, the fact that you wanted him to be the one to take your virginity. He was truly honoured.

Steve loved that he was going to be the only one who got to touch you and when the time came, he’d make it as special as he could for you.

One night, after making out on his bed for what seemed like an eternity, you felt a wet patch form between your legs. It wasn’t the first time it happened, but it was the first time you had been confident enough to lie on Steve’s bed in just your underwear.

Embarrassed, you sat up on the bed, pulling Steve’s old basketball jersey that you wore when you slept at his, over your head and down around your knees, trying to hide your now soaked panties from his view.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Steve asked, noticing how tense you’d become. Rubbing your knees, hanging his chin on your shoulder. “Come on honey, you know you can tell me anything, yeah?”

“It’s embarrassing, Steve.” You sighed, hiding your face in your hands as he knelt on the bed, facing you, waiting for you to speak again.

“S’just, when we kiss…like that, for a long time, I get really…”

“Turned on?” He smiled, your cheeks flushing as you spread your legs to show him the wet spot on your baby pink panties. “Mhm.” You hummed, watching as his eyes made their way down to your underwear.

"Wow, and that’s because of me, huh?" He swallowed hard, licking his lips, feeling his dick twitch in his grey sweatpants just from looking at your soaked panties.

You looked so beautiful, so virtuous and pure, trying hard to cover your body. He wanted so badly to show you just how beautiful you really were, that you had nothing to be ashamed of.

"Baby, s'nothing to be embarrassed about, it's actually really sexy." He whispered, running his soft fingers along your inner thighs, sending a shiver down your spine, causing you to whimper out loud.

“It is?” You asked, looking at him. “Oh yeah, honey, the fact that you’re that wet because of me? Christ, I’m getting hard just thinking about it.” He admitted, grinning at you.

“I can see that.” You tease, tugging at the waistband of his pants, pulling him down to you.

"Can I touch you pretty girl, would that be ok?" He asks, cupping your cheek.

"Yeah Stevie, it's ok...I want that. I want you to touch me." You begged, as he peppered kisses all down your neck.

"Just relax honey, gonna make you feel good hmm?" He said, palming over your panties, rubbing his fingers gently over the light fabric.

He placed the pad of his thumb over the wet spot on your underwear, applying a little more pressure as he began to move his thumb around. He smirked as you arched your back, moving in to his touch. "That feel good, honey, should I keep going?" He purred as you could only nod, watching as he hooked a finger in to your panties, pulling them to the side, mouth drooling at the vision in front of him.

You bit your lip, watching nervously as Steve placed a hand over his mouth.

"Holy shit baby, you have the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen...s'jus so perfect." He swallowed, gently slipping one digit between your soaking folds as you let out the sweetest moan the boy had ever heard, immediately responding to his touch.

He circled your clit achingly slow, using only one finger to tease you. It was a new sensation, having only ever used your own hands to pleasure yourself.

"S-stevie that feels so good." You whined, struggling to stay still as he dipped a finger inside your wet core.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight. We're gonna have to take things nice and slow. Need to stretch this gorgeous pussy out, don't wanna hurt you sweet girl."

You so badly wanted him to make love to you right then and there but you knew Steve was big and there was no way you were ready to take him just yet and Steve would never push.

He was so mesmerised by the noises you were making, looking like an angel underneath him, rubbing your clit with his thumb, while his middle and index fingers slid in and out of your weeping hole.

You bit your lip as the heat began to take over your body, a familiar yet more intense feeling building in your tummy.

"Steve, oh, don't stop...I'm...." "You gonna cum baby? I can feel you clenching around my fingers, just let go for me honey, let go, s’ok I got you.” He whispered, kissing your neck as you nestled in to his.

Steve's voice alone was enough to send you over the edge, gripping the bedsheet tight, toes curling as your orgasm reached its peak.

It was right then that something woke inside of Steve, the feeling of you coming undone under him, body writhing. He almost came in his pants, feeling your pussy pulsate as you came down from your high, while you tried to catch your breath.

You wanted to continue, wanted to give him the same release you had been given but Steve wanted this to be about you. He could wait.

He was hypnotised by how beautiful you were. Sweat glistening from your chest, as he wrapped his duvet around your body, pulling you to his chest as you both fell asleep.

The next couple of nights went much the same, but this time Steve crawled between your legs, stimulating your clit until it was completely swollen. It was a little game he played now, teasing your clit, bringing you to the brink of climax just so he could watch your little bundle of nerves get all pink and puffy.

He just couldn’t wait anymore, he was dying to taste your pussy, kissing your inner thighs as his hair tickled your legs.

You were shocked that he wanted to go down on you, you’d heard from your friends that most guys weren’t in to that, always preferring to get rather than give.

But Steve was here, ready and willing, head between your legs, licking his lips. Waiting patiently for your approval.

“I’ve been thinking about this moment ever since the day you walked in to the video store you y’know?” Steve murmured into your thighs, running his tongue all over your skin. “That little pink bikini you were wearin’ when you walked in, fuck, you looked like every man’s wet dream, honey. Knew right then I needed to have you, had to taste you.” He teased, placing your lace panties back over your clit, grinning at you as his tongue rolled from his mouth and over the laced fabric, making you flinch with the sudden pressure of his warm, wet, muscle on your underwear.

Steve ran his tongue over your panties a few more times until you could no longer take the teasing. “Steve please…” You begged as he lifted his head to look at you.

“Please what baby? What do you need, pretty girl? You know I’ll give you anything you want, yeah?”

“I want you to…taste me.” You breathed as Steve began to remove your underwear, pulling them below your knees until they fell to the floor.

“You want me to eat your pretty little pussy out honey?” He whispered, blowing cold air over your clit, making you jump.

“Mhm, want you to eat me out Stevie, I need it.” You whimpered as his tongue finally made contact with your bare cunt, moaning in to you as he did so. “Taste fucking amazing, sweetheart.”

“Fuck Stevie.” You hissed as he continued to lap up your juices, moving up and down, nose pressed to your clit.

Again, you could feel your stomach tighten. Body grinding in to his face, as he threw your legs over his shoulders, tongue darting deeper in to you. It was getting embarrassing how quick he could make you cum.

He knew you were close by the little moans you were making, tugging his hair, squeezing your thighs. His tongue moving at an obscene pace, slurping up your juices like he was going die of thirst if he didn’t.

But this time as you came, he didn’t stop like he usually did. Steve just kept going, refusing to let you pull away from him, gripping your hips a little meaner, holding you in place.

“Stevie, I can’t… it feels too good.” You whined, biting your lip, trying to stop yourself from screaming out.

“I know baby, s’just you taste so fucking good, could eat this pussy all night.” He hummed, kissing your inner thighs before licking a long, wet, stripe up your slit.

His fingers teased your entrance, collecting your slick and his spit before he gently pushed two digits inside.”

“Oh…my god. Steve, please, I can’t take it.” You squealed, forehead damp with sweat, watching him pump in and out of you faster and faster. His hot mouth completely focused on devouring your swollen nub. His own moans vibrating through your pussy as he continued to bully your sensitive clit.

Your breathing became heavy once more, body tensing, back arching and you knew your next orgasm was approaching quick.

But something felt different, an unusual pressure rising in your lower body, more extreme than you’d ever experienced. It felt like you were going to explode.

Stevie, baby… there’s something..I need to, oh shit, oh my god, oh my god!” You cried, tightening your pussy as Steve kept pumping in to you, harder and faster while you whimpered, hearing the obscene squelching of his fingers fucking you, become less frequent.

“Holy shit, honey.” Steve groaned, almost animalistic as you felt the sheets underneath you begin to dampen.

“Wh…what happened?” You breathed as Steve finally ceased his mission. Mouth wide open in amazement.

“You just squirted all over my fingers and it was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” He revealed, falling on top of your body, catching your lips with his.

“That’s never happened to me before, I’ve never done that…”. You blushed, feeling embarrassed that you soaked your boyfriends sheets.

“I’ve never made anyone do that before. I was beginning to think it was a myth. You’re something else, you know that sweetheart?” He teased, as you felt his now soaked pants on your bare thigh.

“Oh my god Stevie, did I do that to your pants when I…I’m so sorry!” You sighed, mortified as he shook his head, laughing.

“No baby, that was my fault. I sorta blew my load when you squirted for me. It was just so damn sexy.” He murmured in your ear.

“I think you mean messy.” You joked as Steve nodded his head. “Totally worth it, though. I can’t wait to make you do that again.” He grinned, excitedly as you giggled at your boyfriend, who was taking one more look at his handiwork before running to the bathroom to run you both a hot bath to clean up the mess he had created.

Thanks to you, Steve Harrington was no longer a boob guy, he was a bonafide pussy worshiper.

[angels-sins0]

i beg you to continue with this fic of ghost, i want reader to gain some strength and make something 😭

Ghost x f!reader

Cw: I apologize in advance, emotionally (un)available Simon, age gap relationship (Simon is depicted in his late 30’s and the reader is around 21), older man!Ghost, young & naive!reader, slight spoilers for MWIII, brief mention of a developing alcohol addiction, hurt/no comfort, angst, screaming and crying, please don’t kill me for this.

Six months had passed since you last saw Simon. Truth be told, you’ve never felt better than you do right now.

You had moved out of your apartment three months ago after getting a promotion at your job, earning more money than you ever thought of having.

Life was good without him. You didn’t have to worry about getting your feelings hurt anymore.

Simon on the other hand, had been going through the worst months of his life.

He lost a good friend of his while on a mission which resulted in him frequenting the bar close to his house more than he’d like to admit.

Work was hard then and it was even harder knowing he couldn’t see you or hear your soft voice again.

He hated whatever it is he felt when he thought about you and the last time you were together. He despised himself for the way he treated you.

He missed your sweet laugh and the way your eyes lit up each time you saw him even if he proceeded to ruin you moments later.

What was it about you that made him feel weird inside whenever he thought of you? If only he felt that way when you were still with him.

Simon felt like he saw you everywhere around him, like you were with him no matter what he did. It was a strange feeling at first but he had learned to succumb to the comfort it brought him.

It didn’t help that you were the main star in his dreams more often than not. Whether it be dreams where he fought harder to have you back in his life or him fucking you in your bed, a guilty part of him enjoyed the latter.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to see you, had to look at your face one more time, hold you in his arms and never let you go again.

Simon stood in his apartment and contemplated if he actually wanted to do this.

What if you didn’t want to see him?

What if he was too late and you had found someone who treated you the way you deserved?

He had to try, right? Sure he would be hurt if you didn’t want him anymore but at least he would have some kind of closure.

And so, he made his way to your new place. He had gotten the address from Laswell but not before she made some snarky comment about him finally “getting laid”.

Simon knocked on your door and stood looking down at his feet.

Then you opened the door and he swore his heart could’ve popped out of him at that moment.

“Hey,” he breathed out, but you just stood there, rendered completely speechless by the fact that he was actually in front of you.

“H-how did you find me?” You said after a few moments of silence.

“I’ve got my ways.” He said plainly. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do.

Should you let him in?

All the while, you both just stared at each other.

“Do you want to…?” What the hell do people even say in these situations?

“Only if you want me to.”

And so, you moved to let him in, closing the door behind you and leading him to sit on the couch.

It was awkward. You didn’t even look at each other, just sat there in silence.

“Why are you here, Simon?” You asked. Why the hell would he show up now?

“I’ve been…thinking a lot about where we left things off.” He looked at you and you nodded slowly at his words.

“And?”

“And I think— I know I was an asshole to you and you didn’t deserve the way I treated you.” He sighed, and you stared at him, dumbfounded.

“It took you six months to figure that out?” You didn’t know what it was exactly that made you so angry. Was it his audacity to show up after all that time and think you’d be okay with it?

Simon went quiet again.

You stood up from the couch. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like for me the entire time you were away? How long I spent crying over something that wasn’t real? We had nothing! And i still felt like you were everything to me…even when I knew you’d never feel that way about me. Did you really think that—I would…let you in again after all this time?”

You couldn’t help the sob that escaped you, covering your face with your hands to wipe away your tears so he couldn’t see them.

He got up as well, slowly approaching you and he gently pulled you into his arms. You reluctantly relaxed into him, the tears still falling from you.

“I’m sorry for making you feel like this…I wish I was better—i want to be better…” Simon cupped your face with one hand, the other still wrapped around you and placed his forehead on yours.

With your eyes still closed, you hadn’t realized he’d lifted his mask up above his mouth. Your faces were impossibly close and he leaned in to connect your lips together in a kiss.

You felt like you were being controlled by something and it made you kiss him back, even when part of you wanted to push him away.

It went on for a couple of seconds before you eventually pulled back and stared at him.

“Is this what you’re really here for?” You said, voice laced with a hint of anger.

“No! Fuck, no! I wanted to calm y’down and it just happened.”

“I wanna be better and i wanna make you happy but most of all I want you to forgive me for how things were between us.” He was almost pleading, his eyes searching yours for any emotion.

You couldn’t help but scoff.

“All these words…and you still kissed me with your mask on, what does that tell you, Simon?”

He stayed silent. “It tells you that no matter what we have, you’ll never be able to feel like you can let your guard down around me.”

“But i-“

“And if we really decide to do this, what happens when you think i’m not enough or when you feel like you don’t want me anymore? How the hell am I supposed to be okay with that?! It took me six months to start feeling better even though what we had was nothing!”

“You are enough! For fuck’s sakes, you are all I’ve ever wanted!”

“Then show me who you are! I’m never gonna be able to love you if I don’t fucking know you, Simon!”

“You know I can’t do that…”

“Well, then you have your answer…” You looked down, not wanting to see his face anymore.

But he couldn’t look away from you, part of him knowing this was the last time he’d ever see you so he wanted to memorize everything about you.

“I think you should go.” You said, breaking the silence between you. “Please don’t try to come here again.”

You looked up at him and for the first time since you’ve known him, Simon looked hurt. You couldn’t help but feel a pang in your heart at the sight of him standing there, trying to salvage whatever this was but ultimately failing.

“Right…”

“I’m sorry for everything I did to you.” Were the last words he spoke before leaving.

On his way home, he had this weird feeling in his chest that he couldn’t explain, it made him realize why he was always so closed off and why he never tried to have something with someone.

Simon has always had this unexplainable fear of being rejected and left alone, and tonight, you invoked that fear further into him.

He had two thoughts that kept circling through his head.

He was never going to love again.

And the second one that pained him every time he would think about it.

You were gone and there was nothing he could do about it.

@ghost-is-my-bbg , @evehasdied , @darlingvinny , @dragonstoneshortcake , @dest-nai , @imhereforthespice , @graciewacey , @annoyinglysweetobject , @7thsthings , @kaa212 , @rorylover71 , @deareststhings , @dxrak , @ghostslillady , @kazuhyahs , @spookyboogyuniverse , @dangelus , @kenz-ee , @goodkittyspost , @puppybittingotherpuppy , @skulfan1 , @prttylilkittn , @emmalandry , @justgivingupsblog , @simpforfic , @ciggsaftersex , @massiveduckkidcookie , @c3r3al-k1ll3r887 , @riverbutghost , @spxctorslxxt , @marriedtoeddie , @delightfulwolflawyerfreak-blog , @sixxslut , @ghostslittlegf , @tf141glory , @ghostswife141 , @prazinos , @toastedkjeks , @naio-kummer , @sunsetsimon , @livingdead-g1rl , @chimochai , @yo1mamma , @loving-azerath , @lanadelreygirly777

[sunflowerwinds]

a confession & question [h.c]

summary: your girlfriend finally tells you what she’s been keeping from you and it is nothing like what you were expecting. hazel asks you to come to an event that tony is throwing and you go on a fancy shopping trip (funded by stark industries).

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: spider!hazel, secrets revealed, mature content: suggestive making out, & pure fluff!

word count: 3.8K

a/n: things are brewing and they’ve made up. i hope absolutely nothing bad happens :)

SPIDER-HAZEL MASTERLIST

It had been merely a day without contact with Hazel. You were battling between writing assignments for your online classes and stuffing bears at Build-A-Bear that day wondering how to approach this situation the correct way. There was no way in hell you were going to break up with her but you wanted to truthfully and honestly sit down and have a long talk about how she was feeling.

To hear her out, to be there for her in whatever way she needed.

Hazel was a mess. She didn’t attend classes that day — which had May up the wall — as she stayed in bed sulking over being an absolute idiot. She was sleeping curled in her soft brown sheets and when she wasn’t sleeping, she was thinking of ways to apologize to you and reveal what has been itching at her for months now; that she was in fact Spider-Woman.

Should she just send a text saying: ‘I’m Spider-Woman. Please, believe me?’

No, that’s weird and pathetic.

She needs to do it in person so she can prove it to her with her suit. But when? Hazel checked her phone every two minutes in hopes your little icon would be there with a message.

It was around 4 pm when she had received a call from Josie. Hazel was pacing her ceiling in her suit, practicing on ways to show you that she was Spider-Woman. She ripped her mask off and aimed her web to her cell-phone on her desk, pressing the green button to accept the call.

“Hey, Jose. What’s up?” Hazel answered, a soft sigh leaving her lips from the tension and pressure building in her head from being upside down for a good while.

“Well, good afternoon to you. Why the hell do you sound like you’ve run three miles in ten minutes?” Josie questioned as her fingers typed rapidly on her keyboard from the other end.

Hazel grunts as she un-sticks herself from her popcorn ceiling to land on her wood floors. She runs a free hand through her unwashed frizzy hair, shrugging her shoulders.

“Just… hanging around,” she makes herself smile.

“Okay?” Josie responded. “Is that a spider joke?”

Hazel was still grinning as she replied: “Yup.”

Even though Josie knew it was a corny joke, she couldn’t help the snort leaving her lips.

“Anyways, uh, Happy told me to call you to remind you about this Sunday.” Josie hummed as she clicked her mouse buttons.

Hazel’s brows furrowed at Josie’s words. Her mind went completely blank.

“Jesus, you forgot didn’t you?” Josie sighed at how silent the spider-girl had gotten after her statement.

Hazel winces as she rushes over to her calendar for the month that was hung up above her working desk. Her eyes darted to the coming-up Sunday and there was just a tuxedo that she drew. What the fuck does that mean?

When does she ever wear a tuxedo?

“No…?”

Josie released another disappointed sigh.

“The charity event Tony is having for Heart Matters. Happy is supposed to take you shopping for an outfit on Friday.” Josie hummed which made Hazel mouth ‘fuck’ as she rubbed at her temple.

Okay, so two things she really needed to do.

“Right, yeah. No, I have a tuxedo on my calendar.” Hazel lied through her teeth.

Josie merely hummed at Hazel, still rapidly typing on her keyboard.

“Is that all you called me for?” Hazel questioned as the line had gone silent.

“Uhh, yeah, pretty much. I’ll call you with… something later,” she ended the call without saying ‘bye’.

The line beeps before clicking off to Hazel’s home screen. She smiled weakly at the photo of you two, admiring the joy on your face and her own. As she continued to look through her album of photos of you, a notification popped up at the top of the screen.

Her heart rate sped up as you had sent her a text after the most agonizing 24 hours of Hazel’s entire life saying that you wanted to have a ‘serious’ talk. Hazel wiped her sweaty palms on her thigh to send you a response that she could come to your place. You told her that worked for you.

Hazel grabbed her mask from where she had tossed it on her bed and slipped it on over her head. This was it.

It was finally time.

You were waiting patiently in your bedroom to hear a knock at your door. In all honesty, you were willing to just let it pass. Tell Hazel that you were being dramatic and apologize until your lips fell off.

That is until your PJ texted you to stand your ground and not Hazel manipulate you which was a bit dramatic but you knew she was coming from a place of love.

Your knee bounced anxiously as you tried to distract yourself as the seconds ticked by. PJ kept sending you messages that you were okay and that Hazel was nothing to worry about. It was way easier said than done. You put on a movie on your laptop to pass the time to refrain from checking the time.

About halfway through the movie, you hear a soft tapping noise. At first, you excused it as rain hitting your window. But the tapping noise only increased in volume. You take off your wired headphones and turn your neck towards the sound. Your eyes widen at Spider-Woman… sitting on your fire escape?

You froze for a moment, not really knowing what to do. The webbed hero knocked one more time and it took you out of the shock. You walked over to the window and hesitantly unlocked it to lift it up. It somehow wasn’t even registering that this could’ve been an imposter that someone had a costume on.

“Hey,” the masked woman spoke, her voice sounding like it was deepened.

“Hello? I don’t mean to sound weird but… what are you doing on my fire escape?” You let out a weak laugh, raising your brows as you stared into the white of the eyes on the mask.

The woman pointed into your room and cleared her throat.

“I said I’d come over, didn’t I?”

This time the voice wasn’t deepened. Your eyes nearly shot out of your head when you realized it was Hazel behind the mask.

“Haze?” You questioned with an incredulous tone.

You step back away from the window as your girlfriend steps into your bedroom in a Spider-Woman suit. Was this her way of trying to cheer you up for lying to you?

“What are you doing in a Spider-Woman costume?” You question as you shut the window and lock it, staring at Hazel taking off her mask.

You weren’t going to lie to yourself when you think that she actually fits the suit perfectly; like it was made for her. Hazel usually wore extremely baggy clothing which she also looked amazing in but this was a nice thing to see every once in a while.

It was kind of hot.

“Well, it’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” Hazel cleared her throat, rubbing her thumbs over the material of the mask.

“Okay…” You stare at her with crossed arms over your comfy pj tee. “What? Are you Spider-Woman?”

Your tone was joking, a little snort leaving your lips as you chuckled to yourself. Hazel awkwardly laughed after you but just stared at you with a patient expression. Your laughter died as soon as you saw Hazel with a tight-lip grin plastered on her slightly flushed face.

You blink.

“I am Spider-Woman,” Hazel said slowly, hoping it would click in your head that this was nothing to laugh about.

“Spider-Woman?” You repeat to her in disbelief. “That person on the streets stopping burglaries, buses spinning out of control and a sort of Avenger?”

“Yeah,” Hazel confirmed.

You again blink. You take a seat on your bed as you examine the outfit your girlfriend is wearing. Hazel was scratching at her arm as she waited for a legitimate reaction.

Was this a joke? Why would she joke about something like this after the argument you guys had just had?

Your girlfriend is a superhero. A mutant. Your eyes widen as it settles in your stomach that she in no way is lying about this.

“You’re not joking, are you?” You cover your mouth with your palm.

“I can… prove it if you want,” Hazel rushes out, glancing up at your ceiling.

You, too, glance up at your ceiling with confusion as to why she did. That is until in the blink of an eye Hazel was hanging from your ceiling by her fingertips. You scrunch up your face at the sight, feeling like your brain is short-circuiting as you’re watching your girlfriend just dangling by her hand from the ceiling.

“What the fuck?” You whisper as you haven't moved a single muscle since you sat down.

Hazel released her body and landed back on her feet with a soft grunt. Her big blue eyes were waiting for a response.

“I— I didn’t know how to tell you before because Mr.Stark was extremely persistent on not letting anyone find out. Especially you and May but now you both know so I’m probably screwed but I don’t care anymore. I hate lying to you. I needed you to know so that you don’t think I’m doing it because I don’t want you to know. Do you know how hard it is to not tell you everything that I’ve done as Spider-Woman? I want to share everything with you and—“

“Hazel!” You interrupt with a light-hearted chuckle.

Hazel sucked in a deep breath due to her panicked rambling. You stood up from the bed and walked over to cup her face. You tilt your head to kiss her gently, inhaling as Hazel’s hands settle on your hips.

“Are you mad at me?” Hazel whispered against your lips, eyes fluttering when you pulled away slightly.

You hum and shake your head, running your hands over her shoulders. What was this suit made of? That material was surprisingly thick.

“Haze, I’m just… in shock, I guess. I mean, it’s pretty badass that my girlfriend is Spider-Woman.” You shrug your shoulders, tracing her jaw with your thumbs.

Hazel blushed at your words, feeling all the more at ease that you were not pissed with her anymore.

“I’m sorry again that I kept it from you,” Hazel sighed , her eyes flickering across all your features. I love you, she thought and almost vomited at the overwhelming feeling.

The two of them still haven’t said the three words yet. Hazel has known how for sure she was of her love for you within the first month. You, on the other hand, have been scared and hesitant to accept feelings so intensely because of your past relationship. Hazel never wanted to press and pry about something that was so personal.

It hurt to not shower you with the love that was pent up inside of her.

“Baby,” you shake your head, the pet name putting Hazel at ease. “I’m not mad. I wasn’t really mad, just afraid, I think.”

Hazel frowned at your timid voice.

“Afraid?”

Her sweet and comforting tone almost made everything come spilling out.

“It’s a me thing,” you scoff and wave your hand in hopes she wouldn’t focus on that.

Hazel’s big blue eyes were pulling you in though like she was hypnotizing you into spilling about your past. You needed to say something else to distract.

“So the webs come out of you?” You suck in a deep breath and you take one of her gloved hands into yours.

“Uhh, yeah. It feels really weird but I’ve gotten used to it,” Hazel explains but is still looking at you with worry.

“That’s insane. Were you born this way?” You trace over.

Hazel shook her head, watching your fingers trace the stitching of her custom suit.

“No, it was a spider from that field trip we took to that lab months ago. It died, like, as soon as it bit me. I didn’t think it was anything until I woke up the next day in a cold sweat, my senses heightened by ten and weirdly toned?” Hazel chuckled as she briefly explained her backstory.

You let out a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding in. There was something both reassuring yet terrifying about this. Hazel would be getting into danger pretty frequently and the thought of her risking her life daily made your stomach turn.

“When did you decide you were going to use your… power for something good?” You questioned.

“Well, you, actually,” Hazel admitted with a rose blush.

Your eyes soften as you mutter: “Me?”

“Yeah, I thought if I could protect the people of the city, I could protect you.” Hazel turned a shade of red you had only seen a few times.

It was sickenly adorable.

“Hazel,” you lean in to kiss her flushed cheeks.

Hazel shakes her head as she allows you to kiss her cheeks. You let out a few giggles as she tries to act like she isn’t enjoying every moment of your lips on you.

“You know,” you pull away to rank your eyes up and down her body, “this suit is kind of…”

“Kind of what?”

“I don’t know,” you begin to shy away, intertwining your hand in her back into your bed. Hazel follows you with narrowed eyes as she watches you.

“Is this,” Hazel motioned down to her skin-tight suit, “turning you on?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Maybe?”

Hazel nodded to herself, a flush on her cheeks.

“Really?”

“Baby, you always turn me on.” You tease as you grab her hand and shove her down on your comforter.

Hazel bounces slightly on the springy mattress as she stares up at you hovering over her face. Your knee was in between her lower thighs and your hands were on either side of her shoulders. Her blush deepened as a sly smirk was plastered on your face as you leaned down to kiss her slowly.

Her gloved hands settled on the soft of your waist, her thumbs skimming the waistband of your cotton pajama shorts. You hum as you pull away to kiss her jaw once. You adjusted yourself so that your knees were now on either side of her hips, straddling her red and blue cladded thighs.

Hazel’s eyes beamed up at you as you lifted your shirt up and off your body so that your lounging bra was the only piece of clothing on your body.

“Wait, wait, wait before we… get to it, um, I got to ask you something,” Hazel massaged your hips as she sucked in a deep breath.

You were trying to pay attention but her palms on you really weren't helping. You tilt your head as she speaks, watching her fumble over her words and her blush deepen.

“Would you want to go with me to this charity event that Mr. Stark is hosting for Heart Matters? I—I have a suit fitting this Friday and I’m sure that Mr.Stark can get you a dress too,” Hazel grinned up at you as your fingers played with the hair at the nape of her neck.

You pretend to think about it before giving her a few loving pecks on her lips.

“Are you kidding me? Of course, I’ll go with you. I haven’t seen you in a suit since prom.”

“Okay, this will be a designer brand. Not whatever me and May could grab at the thrift store,” Hazel grinned cheekily, rubbing at your sides.

“Hey, I liked that suit.” You frown.

There was even a photo from the photo booth at your prom on the wall right above your bed frame. Hazel's slightly baggy suit fit her so adorably, her tie matching with the color of your dress. It was one of your favorite photos of the two of you.

“Yeah, me too,” Hazel muttered before straining her neck to kiss you again.

Mid-makeout, you randomly remember that your girlfriend is Spider-Woman.

You’re sucking face with Spider-Woman.

You and Hazel approach the large glass doors lined with deep black . You squint one eye and raise your hand to shield your eyes from the glaring rays of the sun. Hazel’s hand interlocked with yours, giving it a small squeeze.

“Dolce & Gabbana?” You read the lettering, glancing into the empty store.

“Yeah, Mr.Stark insisted,” Hazel nodded slowly. “Happy should be inside somewhere.”

You give her a curt nod as you anxiously stare through the glass. You and Hazel hesitantly walk through the doors, instantly feeling out of place under the bright lights and sleek white floors.

You felt like everyone could see the poor on you.

Well, it was sort of obvious as you were wearing your beaten-down sneakers, a pair of baggy 90’s jeans and a ribbed graphic tee. Hazel sported a similar outfit except everything was a lot baggier.

“Can I help you?” A woman with a slicked-back bun and slim square glasses approaches you two.

“Uh, we’re here with Stark Industries,” Hazel grinned at her.

“Oh right. Mr. Hogan should be just down that hall for your customs,” the woman motioned her perfectly manicured hand down a long hallway.

“Thank you,” you tell her with a kind smile.

You try not to roll your eyes at her obviously fake grin. You walk down the hallway, hand in hand with Hazel as you round a corner. In a big bright room, there stood a man with a peppered goatee and a black and white suit and a woman in the same form of business casual.

Before you knew it, you were standing in the middle of a designer brand store with your girlfriend and her billionaire boss’s assistant watching you get sized for a custom-made dress. You never thought this would be something you’ve never thought you’d be doing.

Hazel was sitting next to Happy, both of them sipping on sparkling water. You felt slightly awkward as you had to squeeze into shapewear to make it much easier to get your dimensions. Hazel reassured you every once in a while that this was going to be perfect.

“So let me ask you something,” Happy cleared his throat as he set his tall glass to the side, pointing at you.

“Sure,” you grin, eyes wide and anticipating.

“How did… you two happen?”

Happy is pretty nice from what you can tell. He gives a teddy bear vibe, trying to be snarky and mean when he’s pretty sweet. Like now wanting to know the gossip of how you and Hazel’s relationship blossomed.

“Hazel was my stalker,” you tease your girlfriend as she turns beet red.

“What?” Happy’s face dropped for a moment, leaning away from her.

“No, no, we were in the same class senior year and we got partnered for a project. Then we just started seeing each other everywhere: her uncle’s bodega, the same coffee shops, thrift stores. Everywhere. One day she came up to me and asked if I was following her. I freaked out because it did seem that way but I like to think it was just meant to be,” Hazel spilled, twirling her few rings around her fingers.

“That’s our little story. I asked her if she wanted to come with me to try a new coffee shop that neither of us had been to. She kissed me on the first date,” you share with a chuckle.

Your eyes soften as the workers around you begin to ‘awe’ at Hazel’s rundown. Happy’s eyes flickered between you and Hazel’s blushing faces, a small smirk on his face.

“I did not think you would be the one to make the first move,” he replied, raising his eyebrows at Hazel.

You bit back your amused grin as Hazel scoffs. The sweet worker measuring your waist made eye contact with you, holding back her own grin as well.

“What does that mean?” Hazel frowned at Happy.

“No offense to you, kid, but you don’t seem like the type to make the first move.” Happy tried to defend Hazel.

She looked over at you with a frown. You scrunched up your face a little to show that you agreed. Obviously, you knew Hazel little moves here and there but she did give a nervous-unable-to-flirt vibe. But in a charming way.

To you, of course.

“Baby, if it makes you feel any better, I think it's adorable,” you beam at her.

Hazel nods to herself as you reassure her that you love how cute she is.

“There,” the worker measuring you finalized.

You stepped off the lit up platform, giving her a kind smile and a ‘thank you’. She pointed a finger at Hazel and curled it for her to stand on the platform that you were previously on. Hazel stood up from her seat to give you a gentle kiss on your cheek before taking your place. You take hers right next to Happy, glancing at him nervously.

“So, what’s it like working for superheroes?” You question, smiling kindly.

Happy took a sip of his drink before letting out a long sigh: “Amazing.”

His tone told you otherwise. You nod slowly, messing with the fabric on your legs as you wait for Hazel to be measured for her suit. Hazel stood eerily still which kind of freaked you out.

“Baby, breathe,” you state with a teasing smile.

Hazel released a breath as she sent you a weird grin. “Sorry.”

You knew Hazel tended to forget to breathe when she was put in unfamiliar situations.

“You know, you two are a lot cuter than I had thought. This one over here could not stop talking about you every single time we were alone,” Happy chipped in after another round of silence.

You beam at the man, turning towards him as you press for answers.

“H-Happy, you’re sworn to secrecy!” Hazel interrupted with a stutter.

Happy held his hands up in defense as Hazel’s eyes kept darting to you and Happy as the woman measured down the length of her arms.

Happy, even though being sworn to secrecy, leans in to whisper to you: “She’s a real sap for you, you know?”

Your heart flutters as you nod. You think about the many, many photos Hazel would send you of random updates throughout her day, the little gifts she got you, and how often she reminds you how much she cares about you. But you always make sure she receives the amount of gentle gestures she gives you.

You’ve never felt like this with anyone before. Well, you thought you’ve felt like this before. This time it felt true.

“Yeah, I know. But I’m one for her too.”

TAG-LIST: @atyourmerci @mih11 @camilleee222 @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @alesbianperson @slaughtercarrie @cllhan @ahdbodhr @ih8chickentenders @bluerazberrystarz @sc0ttstre3ted @ilovevampires99 @sam-cooperrr @guzzlingplastic111 @rubycruzin4abruzin @cyberchomp @lucicorn72 @angelsknifeprty @lamolaine @cinnamonmilf @elliesprettygirl

[lovers-rck]

fic rec where someone from the club hosts a party and reader and hazel go and they get a little drunk and pj locks them in a room together until they admit their feeling to each other and things get a little hot n heavy :)

intentional lowercase ;) thank you!

also i did a very vague correction so forgive me if there are any mistakes! english is not my first language.

☆

"seven minutes in heaven!" you hear pj yell and run away, except that you and hazel weren't playing that game.

hazel chukled and went to open the door, almost tripping over a ball of dirty cloth. She grabbed the door handle and tried to open.

the first time doesn't work, but she knows she is a little bit drunk and maybe she was opening the wrong way. the second time doesn't work either, and that's when she starts to worry.

"it's locked" she says "pj locked the door"

"what? " you say "let me try" the room is dimly lit, highlighting the worried features that took over hazel's face.

you grab and try to open the door. one, two, three times later you realized that, in fact, is locked. pj locked the door and ran away for who knows how much time.

"im sure this is one of her pranks" hazel looks at you, her eyes a little sleepy from the alcohol "she will come back in a few minutes"

but you are impacient. three minutes has passed. you look at the posters in Annie's walls, all with a inspirational quote about women and printed pictures of Simone de Beauvoir. five minutes. hazel groans in protest, looking at her dirty shoes and thinking why she didn't clean them before going out, she's embarrassed now. seven minutes pass. eight. nine. ten. eleven. twelv...

"pj!" hazel screams "pj let us out please! i already apologized to you when i said that you only created the club to fuck cheerleaders! please!"

for the next ten seconds the only things you hear is hazel's voice, she's loud and desperate, her hands hitting the wooden door for so long that you almost find a rhythm.

eventually hazel gives up, and in a matter of seconds all the loud noises that she made earlier end up causing her a big headache. she feels less drunk than before, but the after feeling isn't so much better. then she looks at you, sitting in the floor, your legs crossed like a kid and your eyes resting. you were a chill drunk, hazel was a chaotic one.

she find a very strange feeling looking at you, something growing in her stomach. hazel never saw you the way she was seeing you now, always admiring you in secret, always playing the fool when you catch her eye in between classes or practice. she knew that this wasn't product of the alcohol, and that scared her.

so she tried and is currently trying to ignore that little feeling growing inside of her, that little tiny and obviously-not-romantic feeling that became stronger everyday.

okay yes. she was in love with you. so what?

it was not a big deal. it's not like at the very sight of you she becomes dumb and slow and words come out of her mouth like vomit without thinking. it's not like she freeze everytime you touch her or grab her hand. it's not like she is completely, hopelessly, in love with you.

okay it was bad.

"we have to get out of here" hazel says "I'll become anxious and you know i left therapy last week!"

so you get up and grabs hazel's hand. you guide her to sit in Annie's bed, standing in front of her and demand her to breath with you.

inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

you don't let go of her hand at any time, and neither does hazel. you look at her, her eyes are closed and her lips swell as she exhales the air as you taught her. you look at her and the sudden impulse to scream what you feel for her invades you.

but you two are friends, and friends don't do that. friends help each other without expecting anything in return. but you realized that you didn't want to be hazel's friend when after every shared moment you expected something in return, something to give you a hint, something to answer the doubt that has been in your heart for a long time.

¿did she look at you with those eyes in purpose? ¿did she caressed your cheek in accident that one time? ¿did she makes jokes about couples with you just for the laughs? ¿did she likes you?

the last question is the worst, you consider.

"thank you" hazel says, and you smile slightly in return. always waiting for something else.

and you think she gaves you something in return when you feel her thumb caressing your hand. she stares at your intertwined hands, and so do you.

shyness takes over your bodie, and the giggly and playful hazel disappears. it was always easier to pretend that nothing happened, that all the touches were accidents and all the looks meant nothing. to pretend that they were just meaningless feelings.

but neither of you can do that anymore when you feel hazel pull your hand slowly, bringing your body closer to hers but leaving a space, leaving open the door of regret. you close that door the moment your free hand caresses her face and she smiles at you.

"can i..."

"yes" you say "please"

she obey and guide your bodie to bend down slightly for her to kiss you. you inhale sharply when her lips makes contact with yours for the first time, and suddenly a scared feeling takes over your body

but hazel grabs your face and you understand that there is nothing to fear when you are with her.

her kiss is delicate and slow, but hungry. she grabs your legs and sits you in her lap, not getting enough of you. her mind cannot comprend what is happening, but is unable to stop it. her fingertips swim across your skin, trying to memorize every feeling, every texture that is so new to her.

she fears that she might be a little rough or fast with you, that maybe she crossed the invisible line. she freeze and for a moment she just stay there, her forehead against yours, breathing and trying to process the last five minutes.

"did i do something wrong?" you murmured

"no, no, you did nothing wrong"

"what's wrong?"

she swallows and hold your hand "nothing is wrong"

"don't be scared"

"im not scared" hazel replies, hating how you read her so easily. you raise you eyebrow "okay maybe i am a little scared"

"of what?"

you heard how the girls are laughing at something downstairs.

"i don't know" she exhales "im afraid you won't be my friend anymore after this"

"we were kissing and you were all worried about our friendship?

"yes!" she replies "your friendship is very important to me"

"i know" you gently put a strand of hair behind her ear "your friendship is important to me too. im not gonna ignore you after this if that's what you fear hazel"

"okay" she nodds "okay"

you laugh slightly "okay"

and you kiss her again, more desperate than before. hazel quickly responds to your body and grabs your waist, pushing you towards her.

you move slightly in her lap and she gasp. the strap of your shirt falls off your shoulder and hazel leaves your lips to find a home on the skin of your neck and shoulder. she kiss and bite the flesh, your breathing becoming a little louder.

in a bold act, you grab hazel's hands and place them in your breasts, hoping that she would catch the sign.

and she does, so she moves you shirt up and start massaging your flesh, you nipples alrrady hard to receive hazel's hands. you whimper lightly when you feel hazel's tongue, leaving a trail of kisses all over your tits.

her hand starts going down when you both heard the lock of the door and a scream

"oh my god!" pj screams and hazel cover your breast with her hands in panic "oh my god! guys! guys! oh my god"

pj jumps and start running away, her screams invading the house

"it worked! guys it worked!" pj screams downstairs "the were sucking each other's titties!"

and all the girls scream with her.

[pigfacedbitch]

HIIII I'm a big fan of your work and I really love it your writing is amazing , this may be a weird request and if your uncomfortable you don't have to do it , it's fine I completely understand, so it's like merlin and Arthur and the reader and they are all soulmates and it's there first time meeting each other . Thank you in advance

Modern! Reader Gets Transported to Albion

idea : modern world! reader gets transported to Albion and meets Arthur and Merlin. unbeknownst to you and the prince of Camelot, the three of you are soulmates.

type : imagines

word count : 0.7k

pairing/s involved : Arthur x Reader, Merlin x Reader

warning/s : almost drowning, panicking

here is my masterlist!

Note : MY FIRST REQUEST! Whoever you are, thank you for reading my works and I might've changed a little bit in your request. Also, I apologize that it took so long, school has been keeping me busy. I hope you like it! 😊

You've always been a fan of BBC Merlin so when you had the chance to take a trip to Europe, you did.

You went to all the locations where they filmed the series like Château de Pierrefonds and Chislehurst Caves. The last destination is where the Lake of Avalon is; Forest of Dean.

Luckily you are alone, giving you the chance to fully enjoy the beautiful sceneries and serene atmosphere.

It made you feel a deeper sense of nostalgia and melancholy— how the precious characters you loved dearly died and were 'buried' there.

With one last selfie, you were about to walk back to you car when you hear it. A faint voice, filled with sorrow and longing.

"(Y/N)... Save us."

It's coming from the lake.

Something glimmers on it's shore, a sapphire drop necklace with golden chain. When you attempt to pick it up, the world begins to spin.

Suddenly, you were underwater.

Panic builds in your chest not because you can't swim, but an unseen force seems to harshly pull you down no matter how hard you try to stay afloat.

"Help me! Please, someone—"

Air runs out from your lungs when a pair of bulky arms grabs your body and begins to swim you to safety.

"Don't worry, I got you."

I heard that voice before.

The stranger easily carries you to ground, draping a large cloak on your shivering body. Rubbing your eyes for better sight, you look up...

Bradley James?

"Are you alright?"

No. You're certain that Bradley doesn't look that young anymore, keeping up with his latest activities online.

"I told you to be careful, Arthur!"

Turning your head, you see Colin Morgan run towards the two of you with a worried expression on his face.

He looks younger too.

"Ah, Merlin. Fetch the horses, she might need medical attention. May I ask for you name, my lady?"

Arthur? Merlin? Wait... Oh my God.

Realization hits you hard when both men stare at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

The way they speak, their clothes, their appearances... it's exactly the same in the show you binge-watch every Christmas season.

Am I in the show? That's not possible...right?

"W-Where are we?"

"Camelot."

Shit.

You expect someone to go 'You just got punked!'; that would've been better than two men (who you have a huge crush on) staring at you, confused.

You waited for a moment but nothing happens.

This is real. I'm actually in Albion.

Fear and anxiety creeps into your system, as many questions form in your head. Did I die? What's going on? What season is this? How can I ever get back?

Due to the overwhelming emotions, your breath shortens and keeled over.

Bradley, or Arthur (You have no idea anymore), quickly catches you and gently carries you to his horse.

"We must make haste!" was the last thing you heard before you blacked out.

Merlin, on the hand, knew this would happen. In fact, he dreams of you.

He sees you in vague images, like old memories— happily kissing his cheek, witnessing him use magic, encouraging him to do another trick, etc.

He already etched in his mind your pretty face, your melodious voice, your playful grin— everything about you.

Then Arthur shares the same experience, dreaming about a woman who's description mirrors yours.

Kilgharrah told him that the woman of their dreams will arrive soon from faraway land and will play significant role in the prophecy.

However, the dragon didn't specify how. He only said—

"(Y/N) is your soulmate, Emrys. She sees you and Arthur in a light no one else ever will."

Soulmates are uncommon, even for druids. Only a few were blessed, to have something so wholesome and pure.

So when he heard your cry for help, he is ecstatic. You have finally arrived. His soulmate... and Arthur's.

He wryly smiles at this. Funny how he shares, not only his destiny with the prat, but also you.

The trip to the castle was faster than they anticipated. Arthur told him to call Gaius and meet them in his bedroom.

It caught the attention of everyone. The prince carrying an unconscious woman in his private chambers will surely stir gossip.

But Arthur didn't care, and Merlin didn't know if he should be proud or worried.

The court physician said you are healthy, they only have to wait for you to wake up. He left to attend other matters; leaving the three of you alone.

"This is her." The prince laughs in disbelief, incognizant of what Merlin knows. "The girl in my dreams, I can't believe it!"

Merlin tries to hide his smirk, Arthur can be so adorable when he's clueless.

"Nor can I, sire."

[heavyhitterheaux]

Baby Blues

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: mature topic ahead, mentions of postpartum depression

Synopsis: The two of you are at odds once again, and deep down, Jack knows that there is something wrong with his wife but can't figure out what it is. He makes it his mission to get down to the bottom of it in order to help you.

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

The full fic to this concept

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

You massaged your temples as you sat down on your bed finally able to take a breather. All three babies had been officially home for two months and instead of it getting easier, you felt as if it was getting harder. Jack had been sent to the store by you to get more formula since your milk supply hadn't been that great lately. Probably due to the fact that you were barely eating, but that was another conversation.

The hope was that they would at least sleep for two hours so that you could lay down yourself, but you knew that it probably wouldn’t work out in your favor. You and Jack were still at odds and it would be sometimes awkward with both of you at home with the triplets which was 98% of the time. After almost losing you, that definitely took a toll on him, but the two of you would still argue about unnecessary things that wouldn't matter twenty four hours later.

In your mind you were trying your absolute hardest while trying to recover from having them since it hadn't been anything but easy. At this point, you didn't want to divorce him. Possibly legal separation, but the thought of divorcing him completely had never crossed your mind. Despite what had gone on in your marriage, at the end of the day you still loved him and couldn't see yourself living without him.

The front door opened indicating that Jack was back and you soon heard his footsteps as he made his way upstairs. He peeked in your bedroom and saw you sitting on the bed and staring off into space.

He leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead and you gave him a weak smile.

“You feel okay, today?” He asked as he sat down next to you, but you just shrugged.

“I don't know. I just…” You got quiet and didn’t finish your sentence.

“Baby, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong.” Jack replied as he grabbed your hand to place in his.

“I don't need any help. I'm fine.”

“Y/N, why are we doing this again? You're shutting me out and I'm trying to understand what is happening with my wife.”

“Hmm, so now you want to try and understand? You weren't concerned with how I felt basically the entire year in 2022 so why now?”

“I already apologized for that and I thought we moved past that.”

“Who moved past it? Because I didn't.”

“Why do we ALWAYS do this?” Jack exclaimed while throwing his hands up towards you, but all you did was attempt to put your excuse of hair into a ponytail because you didn’t know the last time you actually brushed it.

“We always don’t do anything, you brought it up so I answered your question.” You fired back while looking at the two mismatched socks on your feet.

“I’m trying here so the least you can do is cut me some slack!”

“Jackman, if this is what you call trying to at least attempt to act like you care about this marriage, this is one hell of a poor job.”

“Here we fucking go. Don’t you think that if I wanted a divorce or to separate from you that I would have done it already?” Jack asked and you could tell he was immediately filled with regret as his eyes went wide and all you did was stare at him.

“There’s still time to go to the courthouse today if that’s your heart’s desire since it’s only eleven in the morning. But let’s be serious I saved your fucking image because come the fuck on, I could have thrown your ass under the bus. No matter how you mistreated me and put your wife, someone that you gave your last name to on the back burner, I still did right by you. As much shit as you did and it wasn’t a secret, it got played out for the entire world to see but yet, I never spoke bad about you ONE TIME. Because as much as you constantly give me headaches, I love you and I do want to save this marriage. But if I’m the only one trying then fuck it. The one thing that really sticks out in my mind is when I actually did fight Anitta and you didn’t even ask me if I was okay, not once. Despite how she had acted towards me ever since she met me. I told you how I felt about her and all you did was ignore me in order to try and boost your career. The career that I helped you create, but whatever.” You simply shrugged your shoulders and tried to walk past Jack, but he caught your wrist and lightly tugged on it.

Deep down, he knew that he had been difficult towards you and it had been hard to process his emotions and Jack did feel some type of way about how he had treated you. He broke the one promise to you when you told him not to ever forget where he came from or the people that helped him get to where he was, but now he had done the exact opposite and the fame had got to his head.

It took him hearing it from his mother to finally realize it

“Y/N…. wait a second.”

All you did was turn to look up at him and let out a deep sigh.

“I promise to do better and do right by you….. And them. I’m sorry I just…. I know for a fact that I have to be better about expressing how I feel towards you and a few months ago, I thought that I was going to lose you forever. Please don’t ever think that I don’t love you because I do. I love you more than life itself and just for the past year I haven’t been the best husband that I could be and want to get back in your good graces and fix this. I’m tired of us fighting and we have three little ones that don’t need to grow up in a dysfunctional household. You know for a fact that divorce would never be an option for me on my end. I was serious when I asked you to marry me at nineteen and I’m still serious now.”

“It’s not just us anymore and they should always be your first thought.” You quietly said as you could hear through the baby monitor that they were awake.

“I’ll…. Go make an appointment with Fatima after I check on them.”

The two of you had been seeing a marriage counselor named Fatima and you could tell that she was genuine and also wanted the best for the two of you.

“That sounds like a good idea.” You quietly answered as you simply hugged yourself in your pink oversized sweater that Jack bought you years ago, not bothering to make eye contact with him.

“We’re going to get through this, baby. One step at a time.” Jack quietly said as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

All you did was nod in response as you sat down on the bed and simply stared off into space.

Jack simply sighed as tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he walked out of your shared bedroom and was on his way to the triplets room when he pulled out his phone to do a quick google search.

He knew that something was wrong.

What are the signs of postpartum depression?

Insomnia.

Fatigue.

Poor appetite.

Mood swings.

Irritability.

As Jack kept reading the symptoms on the list, just about every one of them he had seen in you over the past month and he was kicking himself for not noticing sooner.

You were hurting and he was simply adding to it which was the last thing that he would have ever wanted to do. After checking on the triplets, he would text Fatima and look more into getting you help for this because this had to be the only explanation for what was going on with you. After coming home, you had been so happy and now it seems like a switch went off and you were the complete opposite. Jack quickly wiped away his tears before making his way into the triplets room to see Axel wide awake and staring at him. He quickly picked him up and cuddled him closer to his chest.

“Axel, I have to figure out what's going on with your mother and get her the help that she needs. I want for her to be able to see the three of you grow up, but if she keeps going how she is right now, that might not happen. I'm trying to be a better husband and a good father to you three, but I don't think I'm doing such a good job.” He quietly confessed as he brought him downstairs in order to make a bottle for him.

As he waited for it to heat up, he saw you come into the kitchen and attempted to take Axel from him. But you quickly heard his protests.

“Baby, go lay down. I got them. You're tired.”

“I'm fine. I can feed him.”

“Y/N, please just listen to me. Did you even sleep at all last night? You aren't fine.” Jack asked as you looked away from him and he knew that he had his answer.

“I need for you to rest. Don’t worry about them.”

“But…”

“Please don't argue with me. I know when my wife is tired.”

“Okay.” You quietly said as you made your way back upstairs.

When Jack had woken you up by kissing yojr forehead, it was starting to get dark outside and as you sat up in bed you simply sighed.

“Baby, come on. I ran bath water for you.” Jack didn't wait for a response as he grabbed your hand and led you into the bathroom and began to help you take off your clothes.

You glanced down at your scar across your abdomen and quickly looked away. It was still hard for you to look at seeing that you almost lost your life.

Jack helped you sit down in the bathtub and kissed your cheek and made sure you were settled.

“I'll get some clothes for you to wear and put them out on the bed and I'll order you some food. Wing Stop okay?”

You nodded your head as Jack left the bathroom, but he made sure to keep the door cracked in order to be able to hear you if you needed him. Ten minutes had probably passed before the tears started streaming down your face and they wouldn't stop no matter how hard you tried.

You were trying to stay quiet so that Jack wouldn't hear you, but he did once he had heard a loud sob. He immediately stopped what he was doing to go in the bathroom to check on you and the sight in front of him broke his heart.

“Baby, what's wrong? Why are you crying? Did something happen?”

At this point your knees were to your chest as your head was resting on top of them and your arms were hugging your legs as you continued to sob.

“Jack…” You started to say before letting out another sob.

“Yes? Baby, you're scaring me. Tell me what's wrong.” He asked again as he was now sitting on the side of the tub next to you.

“That's the problem! I don't know! I'm so sad all the time. Why do I feel like this?”

“We're going to get you help. Whatever I have to do I'm going to make sure that my wife is okay.”

“Do you promise?” You asked in a whisper as you turned to look at him.

“I promise. You aren't going to feel like this forever if I have anything to do with it. I want you to get back to being your happy bubbly self. I haven't left your side since you got pregnant and I'm not leaving now. We're going to get through this.” Jack told you as he brushed some of your hair out of your face that had fallen out of the ponytail.

You nodded as Jack grabbed the Mielle shampoo that you used for your hair and began to massage it through your scalp. He didn't even know the last time you had washed it and figured that he would do it for you so that it was one less thing that you had to worry about.

As Jack washed your hair for you and conditioned it, your thoughts were running rampant. The last thing you wanted was to feel like this and you wanted to be the best possible mother to the triplets. You deserved it and they deserved it with as hard as it was bringing them into this world and all that you went through.

After he had rinsed out your hair, he grabbed an old t-shirt to wrap around it in order for it to be able to dry as he helped you out of the bathtub. Once he did and you were facing him, he leaned down to place several kisses on your lips which you gladly accepted.

“I love you and you’re going to be okay. We're going to be okay.” He whispered and you immediately nodded.

“I love you too.”

“Let me help you get dressed so I can finish your hair for you. You want me to blow dry it or let it air dry?”

“Blow dry it, please.”

“The Harlow salon is officially in business.” Jack said and you couldn’t help but to let out a small laugh.

Once Jack had finished your hair for you and putting it up, he made sure that you ate and the two of you were now sitting against the headboard in your bedroom as he was flipping through channels on the TV. You simply went and laid your head on his chest as his arms wrapped around you and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“Thank you for being here for me today.” You quietly said and you hugged him tighter.

“You don't have to thank me. You're my baby and your well being is important to me. I'm always going to make sure that you're okay and I’m sorry that it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“That my wife was hurting. You have postpartum depression, baby. I looked it up and you have almost every single symptom.”

“Oh.”

“At least we know now what's wrong and we can do what we need to do in order to get you help. You mean everything to me even though I haven't been the best at showing it. But I'm going to do better for you and them.”

You hadn't even looked up the symptoms of it, but was going to take Jack’s word for it.

“I just want to feel better and be a good mom.”

“You will feel better and you're already a good mom. You just need a little help right now and that's okay. This is more common than you think, but it's not going to be like this forever.”

“What if we have more kids and this happens again?”

“We don't need to worry about that right now. Let's just focus on getting through this first.”

You nodded your head in agreement as you turned your focus to the television and you started hearing small whimpers on the baby monitor. You made a motion to get up and Jack immediately tried to stop you.

“Babe, I can…”

“I got it. You let me rest a little bit and I feel better.”

“Are you sure?”

“Promise. I'm fine. Like you said it won't be like this forever.”

A few months later, you were sitting backstage with the triplets and Jack was due to perform along with a few other artists and he made it up in his mind that he wanted all of you to come with him. Ivy and Autumn were crawling around on their playmat with their toys while Axel was in your arms sleeping as you heard the door open and he walked in.

He leaned down to kiss you while also kissing Axel's forehead as he sat on the floor and both of the girls crawled over to him.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He asked as he was making faces at Ivy who was laughing.

“We're fine babe for the millionth time.” You responded while laughing and checking the time on your phone.

“Just making sure!” He said as he held up his hands in defense.

Jack made sure to block off a room backstage specifically for you and the triplets. Urban would pop in from time to time to check on you too so that way they wouldn't be overwhelmed with all of the noise. There was a screen in the room so that you along with the babies would be able to watch Jack’s performance.

“Aren't you supposed to be getting dressed?”

“I had to check on my wife and babies first. Yall are my priority. They can wait.”

Just then Urban stuck his head in the door and was looking at the both of you.

“Neelam is going to murder you in the next two minutes if you don't hurry up.”

“Tell her I'm coming!”

“That's what she said.” You muttered before busting out laughing and Jack and Urban just shook their heads at you.

“And you call me the unserious one.”

“But you are!”

“You know this is the first time in a while that I've gotten a genuine smile out of you.” Jack said while getting up and coming to sit next to you.

“And I have you to thank for that.” You said as you adjusted Axel in your arms.

“Just doing my husband duties. We're in this for the long run, baby.”

“And I wouldn't have it any other way.” You replied as Jack leaned down to kiss you, but was interrupted by Axel waking up and giving him a look.

“I… Axel fix your face. Your mom was mine first.” Jack exclaimed as you laughed at the face he was making at Jack.

Axel continued to stare him down before closing his eyes again and laying his head back down.

“You know you can't get mad. He is literally you in a baby's body. But back to what I was saying. You saved me in more ways than one so thank you smush.” You said as you leaned over to kiss him again.

“You're welcome, baby girl. If it's for you I'm going to do it without a second thought.”

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, danivalentine, generationnow, sza, theshaderoom, and 1,592,006 others

y/ninsta: jackharlow said today is the first time in a while that he got a genuine smile out of me, so I had to take a selfie. Postpartum depression is real, and I thank my husband from the bottom of my heart for recognizing what I was going through and that I needed help. I love this life that I get to live with him and my babies 💕

jackharlow: always in your corner, baby. forever and always.

urbanwyatt: SERVING LOOKS 😍😍

danivalentine: jackharlow thank you for taking care of my baby girl. she is so loved by you and everyone else around her. 🥹

saweetie: love you mamas and we always got your back

Comments on this post have been limited