#i hope someone just stumbles across this post

[cripplecharacters]

Hi, I have some questions regarding confusion over a certain topic. First off, I have a character with a severe scarring on the upper right side of their body. I've heard in some tumblr ppsts that such appearance shouldn't be fetished. Then I stumbled across some posts, mentioning how the character can be described as 'pretty with it'.

For sure, I'm trying my best to normalize the looks. Because I have a love interest set up for them and while they don't mind the looks, I feel confused on how to convey their appreciation for the character's looks even with the scarring. They like the character as they are and stuff.

Sorry if this is a lot, I tend to get confused on how to handle such scenarios. And this sort of varying opinions is making me go '???'.

It's okay if you take your time to answer! Have a good day ahead of ya!

Hi!

"Fetishization of a disability" and "thinking that a disabled person is pretty" are two very different things. Despite the somewhat similar sound, they're not connected by much.

In the context of scars, fetishization would be what I would call the "Zuko situation" (yes, I love ATLA as much as the next guy, let me explain) - the scar isn't really a scar, it's more of a, I don't know, make-up? It's just the color that changes, it's all sharp edges and intricate shapes, the facial structure stays the exact same. There's no physical symptoms. Essentially, it's permanent body paint.

It fetishizes a disability by making it inaccurate, sometimes almost mystical. You don't see anyone fetishizing how real people with facial burns look like because they only like the idea of it. They don't care for us; they don't care for Face Equality or why we are offended by "villain with scar #32482". It's just a fun splotch of color to add to your OC when you're out of ideas.

Another aspect of fetishization is the "a scar is the worst thing in the whole world", the tragedy porn. It's using a disability for cheap drama. Again; it's inaccurate and exploitative. I don't see writers excited to depict my "coming to terms with my facial difference as a teenager, and eventually being proud of it" experience because where's the shock value and pity points? Fetishization, again, is about liking the idea of it, not the real thing.

Describing your character as beautiful, well, isn't any of that.

The point that I tried to make on that post was that a scar is often considered inherently ugly. That it's a stain on someone's beauty, that it would be better if it wasn't there.

"Brown beautiful eyes, thick facial hair, strong cheekbones - he managed to be irresistibly handsome even with that nasty scar going across his nose."

This, well, sucks. It's as if the character's beauty and their disability are contradictory forces that have to fight each other. But in reality, scars and any other visible disabilities are neutral. If the character is pretty, their scar is pretty too. It's a part of them, so how could it not be?

"She was a cute girl; her pastel pink, thinly braided hair framed her face, defying gravity by curling towards her mouth. The burned skin on her lips shifted as she smiled, revealing a tooth gap. She played with her equally pink 'white' cane, holding it between the two fingers she had on her right hand, bopping it against the ground to the rhythm of the song."

This, on the other hand, just states her disability as a part of her person. It's nothing weird or shocking, she's pretty, has a burn on her face, she's blind, she's missing some fingers, she's enjoying the music - it's almost boring when compared to the usual "scar introduction". There's no "even with her horribly burnt face", no "if only she wasn't scarred she would be beautiful", no "poor thing, lost her fingers in a horrific fire" - instead, she is beautiful, and she has scars, and she sure is having fun. That's it.

This is my best shot at explaining the difference between "fetishization" and "yeah they're pretty :-)" ft. my questionable writing - I hope this makes sense.

I definitely took my time to answer, sorry about that. Thank you for your ask!

mod Sasza

#mod sasza #anonymous #face difference #fetishization of disability

[popjunkie42]

sirens in the beat of your heart (read on AO3)

A humble offering for @nestaarcheronweek 2024! This is for @witch-and-her-witcher who is my fearless beta and takes all my writer whining in stride!

Nesta watched Feyre breathe, watched the tension in her with some queasy feeling. At how quickly tempers still flared between them.

So different from her Valkyrie sisters. They were a unit, complements to each other. Unlike the Archeron sisters, always discordant foils to one another. An ongoing play of hurts and scores and changing allegiances that tore at them all.

The specter that was between them: sleeping but still present, of jealousy. Of hunger. Of two skinny, vicious girls scrabbling for whatever was left on the table. Teaching themselves not to need love from the inhospitable desert that was their family.

Feyre took deep breaths until her muscles relaxed, just a little.

Or: Nesta and Feyre try out a bit of their new relationship post-ACOSF.

Behind the cut or Read on AO3.

It wasn’t the dull, constant thud of knives in wood that drove Nesta to the roof.

The truth was she couldn’t sleep, feeling a restlessness inside of her that had her lacing up her boots and leaving Cassian alone, sprawled out on their oversized bed.

The House of Wind was silent at night, except for the wind that sometimes howled outside, the cold stone air smelling crisp and mingling with the ash of dead fires from the evening. Nesta moved quietly, reluctant to break the stillness, heading towards the roof for a breath of fresh air.

At the first noise she had tensed, reaching for a knife that wasn’t at her side, but quickly relaxed when she saw the familiar lazy braid of her sister.

The night sky hung over the training ring like a dome, the jeweled stars of the Night Court sparkling overhead. It was a cold night, for spring, and a chill wind whipped across the stone, masking her footsteps.

Feyre was in leathers that looked a size too tight, thrown on hastily. Her youngest sister was never one to shy away from the casual or practical but tonight she looked…disheveled. Light hairs were whipping out of her braid, a halo of fine, frizzy hair framing her forehead and temples. Her boots were thrown on without being laced. She stumbled in them as she leaned forward for a throw.

There was also the fact that she was flinging knives, alone, at almost three in the morning. At someone else’s house.

Only one knife was lodged in the painted wood target, others littered around it. As Feyre released another blade, the wind kicked up and blew the dagger wide.

“Shit,” she muttered into the night.

“Your stance is crooked,” Nesta observed, walking up behind her before she could grab another blade.

Her sister gasped a little and whirled around, revealing a blotchy red face, blue eyes puffy with tears.

“Nesta,” she said, sounding guilty. Feyre quickly wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry. I just — I didn’t want to wake anyone at home and I thought it would be quieter —”

“You didn’t wake me. What’s wrong?” Nesta’s mind ran through the options — she wouldn’t be here if something happened to Nyx, and to be alone— “What did he do?” she asked, ready to draw blood.

Feyre laughed in exasperation, sniffling. “Rhys didn’t do anything. I’m fine.”

She turned away, and another knife flew through the air, silent and fast, missing the target by an inch and clattering on the ground amidst a dozen other failed attempts.

“You need to loosen your shoulders.”

“Thanks.” Her voice was clipped, her back stiff. Nesta wondered if she had been hoping for Cassian to be the one to find her. “Do you want me to leave? You can use the ring or whatever you came to do.”

Another knife thudded against the wood, hitting the target but failing to find purchase. Feyre avoided Nesta’s eyes. She swallowed, sorting through the maze of Feyre’s emotions.

If her little sister thought she could hide her avoidance, or if Nesta wouldn’t rise to uncomfortable confrontation, she was sorely mistaken.

“Feyre,” Nesta demanded. That unsettled feeling was only growing, as Feyre’s magic seemed to crackle and hum in front of her. Like her emotions were a storm about to spill out of her body. Nesta hadn’t woken up tonight prepared to deal with this emotional powderkeg.

The way Feyre’s eyes grew cold, like she retreated in on herself, and the stubborn jut of her chin made her look so young. This was the Feyre she was used to tearing apart over a worn dining table — raw with anger and a little self righteousness, fear and cruelty simmering just underneath.

Someone she hadn’t seen in a while, under Feyre the Cursebreaker, under the High Lady.

“I was just stressed, all right? I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you came here to lose all our knives?”

Feyre went stiff.

Her own wisps of wind cast out and gathered the knives, scraping over the stone and into a gently swirling cloud she brought back to the small table beside her. “Maybe I just wanted to throw things. Maybe I don’t care if they hit or not.”

Nesta didn’t know what to say. So she grabbed a knife and stepped up to her sister.

“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” Maybe she could call Cassian. Her stomach sank a bit at the thought, the guilt. Maybe Cassian would be better at this, maybe he wouldn’t fumble and stomp his way through Feyre’s mess of emotions.

Thunk. The tip of Nesta’s knife buried into a bullseye.

Feyre huffed.

This time when her sister stood she anchored her back foot, setting the other in front, bouncing her wrist to feel the weight in her hand.

She pulled back her arm, stepped forward and they both watched as the knife went short, skidding loudly across the stone.

“Your stance is too tight. You need to loosen up your back a little, let your arm go.”

Feyre grunted, her lip curling up in a little angry sneer.

“Hey. Look at me.”

The eyes that met hers were like a beast in the forest.

There was her feral little sister. For a while now she had been the cool High Lady, the head of her house, the responsible sister. To see her old anger flare up again startled Nesta.

They were both far too powerful now to let it get the better of them.

“Take a deep breath. Just like me. And hold. Ready?” Nesta exaggerated the swell of her lungs, the lift of her shoulders. Cold night air filled her chest and she felt her feet ground into the stone, like she was an extension of the mountain.

Feyre fought her at first. She had to close her eyes to take in the deep breaths and let go.

“Let your thoughts come to you, whatever’s on your mind. Just let them fill you and then pass through. Keep breathing.”

Nesta watched Feyre breathe, watched the tension in her with some queasy feeling. At how quickly tempers still flared between them.

So different from her Valkyrie sisters. They were a unit, complements to each other. Unlike the Archeron sisters, always discordant foils to one another. An ongoing play of hurts and scores and changing allegiances that tore at them all.

The specter that was between them: sleeping but still present, of jealousy. Of hunger. Of two skinny, vicious girls scrabbling for whatever was left on the table. Teaching themselves not to need love from the inhospitable desert that was their family.

Feyre took deep breaths until her muscles relaxed, just a little.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to help,” she finally said.

Nesta’s voice was as cold as ice. “I think maybe we spent so long fighting over scraps, and now it’s hard to remember —”

“That there’s enough?”

Nesta nodded.

It was hard to put into words. She was still getting used to the endless affection that poured from her mate, how she could ask for things and be given them without a thought, without a cost.

Even though a new peace lay between her and Feyre, the old scars were human, and wouldn’t heal so easily.

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

Feyre sighed again, her eyes focusing on the shining knives in front of her.

“Nyx finally went down and I was trying to fall asleep, but I remembered this fae a few weeks ago who came to petition — she and her family needed help with their farmland since their father died unexpectedly. And I told them we would send assistance — and then I just — forgot.” She swallowed thickly.

“I got up and was at my office trying to find the notes, and Rhys tried to send me back to bed, like he isn’t up working late into the night most days. Like the weight on me isn’t the same as his,” she played with a knife, pricking her fingertips on the tip of the blade idly.

“Then Nyx started crying, and it was like my whole body seized up. It was weird. It was like…my body didn’t belong to me.” Feyre shook her head, looking pale. “I just thought about that family, waiting every day for help, waking up every morning thinking ‘this will be the day.’ And I just…forgot.”

For a moment, something vicious slithered inside Nesta’s gut: a preening, satisfied feeling. At perfect Feyre, finally stumbling for once.

No. Nesta breathed through the thought, watching her sister’s tight face. Checked frantically that her shields were up.

That was an old way of thinking. When she thought they were competing. Let the thought pass through you. Feel it and let it go.

Nesta shifted on her feet. This was her terrain, her familiar training grounds. How would Feyre fit in this space?

She tried to shift the way she saw her sister. How would Cassian, or Azriel, size up a new recruit? What would Nesta feel towards her if she was a new priestess, walking nervously through that door?

How had she felt when she saw Gwyn pass that threshold for the first time, scared and seeking strength? Why was her sister any different?

“I might not be able to give any High Lady advice. But why don’t you pick up a sword? Let your body work it out.”

Feyre shook her head, her arms wrapping around her stomach. “I haven’t trained in months. And — I feel different. My body feels different. Even with everything healed I just feel…changed.”

“We can start at the beginning. I won’t go too hard on you.” Nesta cocked her head, unsure of what to make of the writhing mass of Feyre’s emotions.

“I don’t want this. I don’t want to —” Feyre paused, looking away, unable to meet Nesta’s eyes. “I don’t want some competition to see who’s the better fighter. You can be the warrior now. I don’t want it. Maybe I never did.”

Nesta swallowed. Thought about the emptiness that came when she first spilled blood –

She let the thought pass through. Focused back on Feyre, circling her slowly, watching the way she was tracked with her sister’s eyes, how her body turned instinctively to keep Nesta in her sights.

Not a fighter, she said.

This one needed an anchor. A goal. Something outside of her own panic to hold to, to pull herself up.

“Koschei is coming.”

Her words were casual. As if he were arriving tomorrow for tea.

Feyre’s face hardened. “Yes.”

“And are you ready to face him? Ready to protect your family?”

“Nesta…”

“Are you?”

Silver lined Feyre’s eyes. Nesta felt her heart crack. But she stayed still.

“No.” It was a whisper in the wind.

She watched as Feyre worked through it, the seizing fear, the desperation, the stubborn Archeron resolve to face it.

Mother knew there was nothing Nesta wanted more than her life here, small but full, with Cassian in her bed and next to her in the training ring, with her friends nearby and her work. Growing every day, luxuriating in love and happiness and sore muscles like it was a warm bath.

But Rhysand had shared Cassian’s memories with them all, of a frozen lake, of a chill wind that promised death and malice. Of even Cassian’s quaking fear.

“Then we’ll get there. I’ll help you. If you want. Or Cass can or — whoever you want.”

Nesta tried not to feel the worry of rejection. Every swing of the axe, or pull of the bow in lessons between them before had been fraught with sizzling tempers and cold viciousness.

She thought about Gwyn and Emerie, about Roslin and the other priestesses she worked with, encouraged, cheered for everyday. Thought about those emotions like a cloak and tried to see how it would fit around her sister.

“You would train me?” Feyre asked. Nesta tried not to bristle at her surprise, at whatever part of that offer caught her sister off guard.

“I could show you the Valkyrie techniques that will work with your Illyrian training. Sometimes these days, I’m the one teaching Cassian things.”

Feyre gave a watery grin. “I’m glad. Someone needs to check that Illyrian arrogance.”

“Maybe that’s why we’re mates. The Mother knew they all needed to be put in their place.”

A blade turned slowly in her sister’s hand. “You’re the Oristian.” A small, wistful smile came over her face. “I wish I could’ve been there when Devlon and the camp lords found out.”

Nesta’s smile was cold. “They don’t know what they’ve unleashed.”

“I’m proud of you,” Feyre said, her voice a choked whisper, Nesta's eyes going wide. “Not that — I know you don’t need —”

“Feyre.” At her tone, her sister stopped babbling. “That’s —” Nesta took a deep breath, letting all the discomfort and swaying emotions from her sister settle and pass through. Whatever anger or resentment she might have from before had washed away when she smelled the blood in that birthing room, when she had to beg for her baby sister’s life from the Mother herself. “Thank you. It was really hard, for a long time. But I’m happy. I’m happy here.”

Her sister’s chin wobbled and her face crumpled just before she buried it in her hands.

Breathe. In and out.

Nesta thought about her Valkyrie sisters. How sharing their heavy stories had made them feel lighter. How they looked into each other’s souls and didn’t turn away.

“Feyre. It’s ok.” Nesta rested her hand on Feyre’s arm, feeling her body shake with sobs under her palm.

At her touch, Feyre fell forward, burying her face in Nesta’s shoulder, covering her leathers with tears.

Nesta stiffened, unused to her sister’s touch.

Hating how she felt like her mother.

How would she want her mother to hold her? How would they all hold Nyx from this day forward —-- without reservation?

You can do this.

She could do it —-- accept love, and give it too. It would be hard but —-- she reached out her hand, pulling Feyre closer, rubbing her back gently, breathing through her discomfort and trying to bring down those walls.

When Feyre had tired herself, she stepped back, looking somewhat ridiculous with a swollen nose but with a new lightness in her eyes.

“I thought — I worried — you and Elain might never be happy here.” Nesta thought of her library and her friends there, of Cassian’s scent, and his stupidly handsome face. Happy.

The moment sat quietly between them, Feyre’s fears and the miles they’d traveled unraveling.

“I’m sorry I’m falling apart,” her brow furrowed in frustration. “I had Nyx and everything makes me cry now. Yesterday I stepped on a worm in Elain’s garden and Rhys raced home from the Governor’s council because he thought I was dying.”

Nesta’s lip curled. “I think Nyx has the power to turn all of us soft.”

“Do you ever look at him, and —” Feyre stopped short, like the words died in her mouth.

“What?”

“Sometimes I look at Nyx, and I think…I hate them. Mother. And…father. Sometimes.”

Nesta stayed still. Like the admonition would have her sister bolting at any wrong move. “I think I know what you mean.”

Feyre nodded. “I love him so much. And how could they have seen us so young and still do what they did? How could they have let themselves look away? It seems impossible. And then I worry: what if there’s some secret terrible thing that will happen that will make me feel the same way someday?”

“You will be a thousand times a better mother than our parents ever were to us. There’s no way you could ever be like them, Feyre. It’s impossible.”

“But —”

“Feyre. You’re a good mother already.” Feyre’s chin wobbled again. “And if you do slip up, I’m sure your sisters will let you know about it.”

Feyre took a deep breath, in and out through her nose. “You promise?”

“Try and stop us.”

A smile was on her sister’s face.

Nesta grabbed a throwing knife, the metal warming in her hand.

“Ok, do ten shoulder rolls, then we’re working on your stance.”

The yellow-pink fingers of dawn were pulling at the horizon by the time Feyre’s boots were tied, her muscles stretched. It wasn’t enough to warm them, yet, but the light shone on something brighter in Feyre’s face. Nesta reveled in the new feeling of being the cause of it.

She turned to her new recruit.

“Are you ready?”

#nesta archeron #nestaweek2024 #feyre Archeron #Archeron sisters #acotar #ACOSF #acotar fanfic

[corrienteallita]

and because i know you want it, you dirty dirty bastards, here's a rare picture of a bathroom (just to prove that my builds DO include bathrooms i'm just bad a taking pictures of them)

If you want more pictures of bathrooms you'll have to subscribe to my only fans account

#it's a joke #show us your bathrooms #sims 4 #ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 vanilla #no cc #lot makeover #willow creek #look at me adding all the normal tags in #as though i haven't called y'all dirty bastards for wanting to see pictures of my sims bathrooms #show us your builds #simblr #i hope someone just stumbles across this post #and is like why the fuck is this tagged as show us your builds #it;s a badly decorated fucking bathroom #why yes i am queuing this post on a friday night after one too many passion fruit martini's #and tequilla sunrises #thank you mr corrientellita for buying us a cocktail set #how many tags is too many?

[wodkapudding]

.

#it's weird to have my catholic grandparents telling me that us non-believers cannot cope with death because we have no faith and no hope #and then see them suffer as miserably from the cognitive dissonance of reassuring themselves that my uncle now rests in peace while mournin #idk i contemplate catholicism more often than i like to admit #but somehow not when i'm in grief #it's probably when i feel furthest away from religion #death sucks and literally all i can do is deal with the pain #how can i find comfort in the promise of an afterlife when i can only take someone else's word for it #there's really nothing that i could believe in that would take that pain away from me and as masochistic as it sounds i'm glad it doesn't #i don't want to feel okay about knowing i won't ever get to see my great grandmother again in this life #personal #sometimes this is a diary #no offense to people who feel comforted by their religion #in case someone stumbles across this post #this is just about me and my family and my grandparents' weird fixation on turning everyone into a catholic #feeling very much all over the place

[journal-number-3]

.

#ive stumbled across tiktok drama about actual plays that involves loa #someone vagued posted about the idea that if you're dnd stream is big enough to have celeberties on #its no longer a home game but a business and they should care about diversity at the table #and like. valid take i get it. #but apparently critical role fans thought it was about critical role and got defensive #and im just gonna say cr fans... if the shoe fits.... #also yeah i hope Avantris becomes more diverse as kt grows bigger but : #a. they literally just got big enough that 5 of the seven of them could go full time last year #b. two of their poc members left due to unforseen circumstances #and c. i love the twins but im not trusting two Italian men from Baltimore to be in charge of diversity #anyway I put this in tags so i don't bother anyone with drama but i wanted to talk about it #even of my white ass has no good answers here

[magnoliamyrrh]

.

#sometimes i stumble across posts that are so vile about what has been done to palestinians that i dont. even want to reblog them #because its so vile and inhumaine and . no words sort of behavior that i dont want to b the reason someone has to read that #with their own two eyes #im nauseous straight up. poor little kid lord almighty this species. this fucking species #and its like...... we all Know anyone who follows me Knows so whats the point of knowing something so #specific and horrid 😔 #idk i guess its like how #sometimes i read about the cases of torture of sex trafficked balkan little girls and women and part of me wants to #post about it on here but its so horrific that i just. dont. want anyone else to see that shit #like to know specifics about the torture i just read abt #................. #:(((? #what a terrifying fucking species #humanity. capable of such immense beauty and love and empathy...... and such deep. deep. deep depravity that #we lack words in any language to even properly condemn it #. if the kids family is still alive inshallah i hope theyre..... god i dont even know.. i wish them all the strengh #because i dont know if 'alright' if something you can ever be after your kid is put through that. even if the occupation were to end

[yellowharrington]

wildflower and barley -- joel miller x reader

pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)

word count: 5k+ oops

warnings/notes: smut smut smut!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. age gap (it's implied reader is in her 20s while joel is 45) and mentions of joel being kinda perverted and liking it lol. drinking (both reader and joel, not excessive), use of a dating app like tinder but not specified, unprotected PIV w creampie and oral (m+f receiving), do not fuck your tinder hookups without protection i'm just horny and gross. excessive use of darlin' as a nickname. implied that reader likes men. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. if i missed anything lmk!

a/n: heavily inspired by this post by @yesttoheaven about joel's tinder profile!! it has been rotting my brain since i saw it which literally inspired me to write my first fic in the tlou fandom ever so please be gentle with me. i imagined show!joel because i've never played the game so do with that what you will. please reblog and leave comments if u enjoy it <3333

divider by @cafekitsune

summary: after deciding to change your age range on a dating app in hope of a change of scenery, you stumble across joel miller.

No one likes using dating apps.

Swiping left, left, left mindlessly at troves of men holding fish, showing off their trucks, or with deer heads mounted to the walls behind their selfies holding guns.

This was Texas, after all.

Having just moved here, it was a little shocking, to say the least. But you were getting used to the “eligible” bachelors that were your age generally looking and acting the same. When you did end up finding someone of interest, you were usually turned off pretty quickly by whatever shitty pick-up line they had chosen. Or, your personal favourite, “wanna fuck?”

No thanks.

It was an idyllic summer evening, the hot stuffy air of Austin flowing in through your windows. You laid in bed, propped up on the pillows against your headboard and sorting through the faces that adorned your screen. No one particularly interesting, as usual, and every profile was starting to melt together to look the same.

You sighed, looking into your settings, adjusting and increasing different metrics to hopefully change the pool just enough for there to be someone new or interesting. 

Age range: 25-30

Your eyebrow cocked as you looked onto the screen, pulling the slider more to the right experimentally. No one was here to see you, and even though it was slightly embarassing to be interested in older men, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t pique your interest to imagine it. Even just to try, and see, if they ever really did grow up. You imagined it was wishful thinking, but increased the range anyways.

Age range: 35-45

Feeling the need to throw your phone across the room after doing that, you placed it face down under your pillow and slid out of bed. No use in swiping through them now, and you were getting tired of looking. A pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a new episode of your favourite show was waiting for you downstairs.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Joel Miller does not use dating apps.

He barely knows how to send a text on his phone, let alone navigate the world of online women. Not to say he didn’t explore the options, so to speak, but they usually were not ones that were single, his age, and in his area. Unless the ads on those sites were real, that is.

“It’s starting to get sad,” Sarah had remarked at breakfast, when they got on the topic, and Joel feigned hurt. Hand over his heart, he dropped his fork onto the plate. “It’s not sad, Jesus. I’m just busy, is all.”

“Busy not gettin’ busy,” Sarah remarked, and Joel’s eyes widened. “Hey now! None of that.”

A blush spread up his cheeks and ears as they continued to eat breakfast in slightly awkward silence, before Joel took his plate to the sink. “Okay, off to school, you. And no more conversations about my dating life. Ever.”

Sarah laughed as she finished off the last of the juice in her glass. “I’m just saying, dad. You can if you want to. Might be nice for you.”

Joel planted a soft kiss to her head before she bounded out the door, rolling his eyes and calling out a ‘love you’ before she closed the door swiftly behind her. Joel stared at his cell phone on the table. Maybe it would be nice.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

The following evening, you were a little too excited to see the dating app specimens you had acquired. Not sure what to expect, really, and you went in with no expectations. It’s not like they’d magically all be tall, dark, and handsome, but some variety never killed anybody.

Paul, 41

Daddy, but not yours. No libs allowed. 6’ because that matters.

You sighed deeply. Some things never change. 

After swiping through much of what you were used to, a profile managed to catch your eye among the sea of disappointment.

Joel, 45

Just a Southern gentleman trying this out for the first time. Contractor of over 10 years. I love my daughter, BBQ, strong coffee, and sleeping in. 

Now that was the most interesting thing you’d seen in a while.

He didn’t look a day over 40. His eyes creased at the corners when he smiled wide in his photos. He looked tan, a product of the Texas heat and his job, you thought. His features were accompanied by salt-and-pepper facial hair and messy curls that looked soft and pliable. His photos showed off his physique incredibly, tight wash-worn t-shirts pulling over his arms and shoulders, looking big, broad. He was no doubt the most handsome man you’d seen on an app, maybe ever.

When you swiped right before you could think too hard, you were surprised to see the green “Match!” Flash across your screen.

Your fingers ghosted over the keyboard on your phone, thinking of a witty thing to say, probably for too long.

Your phone buzzed as you saw a notification pop up.

Joel has sent you a message.

Hey, darlin’. How are ya?

You felt your face warm at the sweet message, when was the last time someone had called you darlin’? Ever?

Hey cowboy. I’m great, how are you?

He was certainly an eager responder, taking only a few seconds to reply. You found yourself smiling down at your phone screen.

Cowboy… I like that. I’m better now that I’m talking to you.

Oh, Joel, who told you to say that? 😂

No good?

Not bad. 6/10. 

Only 6/10? I’ll work on it. I like to think I’m better in person. 

I would love to find out. 

You found yourself emboldened by how easy the conversation was flowing. Joel was certainly easy to talk to, easier than the other matches you had going for you, and infinitely more handsome.

Oh, would you? Alright. I’d love to take you to dinner sometime. If you don’t mind being seen with an old man such as myself in public. Or meeting a stranger from the internet.

He’s a very handsome stranger. I would love to go to dinner with you. Know any good spots? I’m new around here.

There’s a great barbecue spot in downtown Austin. If you’d prefer something fancier, let me know.

I love bbq. Just tell me where and when, cowboy.

Tomorrow, 7pm ok?

You sent him your phone number in the message. Fuck it.

Sounds great. Text me the address, I’ll be there. :)

Joel’s reply didn’t come. Instead, a text appeared at the top of your screen with an unknown number. 

It’s Joel. This the right number?

Yup. You found me.

Great. Talk tomorrow sweetheart. Looking forward to it. :)

He texted you the address of the restaurant, right before you opened the contact card, saving his name as “cowboy ♡”.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Cowboy. Cowboy. Cowboy. It was playing over in his head like a broken fuckin’ record. 

Joel was positively freaking out about this date.

Sarah had managed to secure a sleepover at her friend’s place, so the house would be empty for the night. He had been busying himself with cleaning the entirety of the house, even taking the time to mow the grass before work and vacuum the family room. He can’t remember the last time he vacuumed anywhere.

Would she even make it back here? How does this work? Will she want to sleep over or hang out on the couch or should he be making a dessert for after?

His mind was brought out of it’s craze by Sarah jumping down the stairs. She plopped her bag down on the freshly wiped countertop.

“Careful,” he warned, putting a hand up. “I just cleaned that off.”

“I can tell. It smells like the cleaning aisle threw up in here.”

He smirked before patting her head with his hand, as she aggressively smoothed out her hair. “Dad! Don’t!”

“When do you wanna go to Ellie’s?” He asked, more gaging how long he has left to get ready than actually asking.

“Probably soon. Why? Tryna get rid of me?” she poked her dad in the side, but when she flinched away instead, a large smile spread across her face. He was tense.

“What’s your deal?” Joel hated the way she knew him so well sometimes.

“Nothing.“

“Are you going on a date?”

Silence fell over the kitchen between the two of them, as Joel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “How did you know?”

“Oh my god, you actually took my advice,” Sarah laughed, watching her dad’s face burn red with embarrassment. “Just don’t do anything weird on communal surfaces, please.”

Joel shook his head at her suggestion, already becoming annoyed with the whole prospect. He was so nervous, about what to wear, how to act, what the expectation was… let alone, what would happen if they made it back to his place at all. 

Although, when he was able to shake his nerves for a second, he was just really fucking excited.

“Wear those dark jeans, and that green shirt you wore to Tommy’s last week. Looks good on you.” Sarah smiled as she put her arms around Joel’s middle, while his worries melted away with her touch. “She’ll love you, I promise.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

It had been such a long time since you’d been on a proper date, you were starting to lose your mind at the simple process of deciding what to wear.

Clothes were strewn across every surface of your apartment, shoes matching with jeans that matched with cardigans, tops that matched with belts and jackets.

It’s 87 degrees at 5 o’clock, idiot. You’re not wearing a jacket. Relax.

Exhausted of picking out outfits and making decisions, you collapsed on your couch and took a look at your options. You landed on an easy sundress, putting the rest of your clothes back in their respective drawers, and pulling out all of the products you were expecting to use to get ready.

You scrolled through your phone aimlessly as a notification bubble popped up on the screen.

We still on for tonight darlin’? Or did you change your mind?

No worries if you did. I respect that.

You let out a cackle at the message, thinking about how he must look right now. Was he nervous? Scared? Was he just looking for a controversially young fuck?

You weren’t… completely against that.

Didn’t change my mind, wouldn’t in a million years :)

Meet you there. Can’t wait to see you.

His eagerness to meet up would’ve been a red flag if it were any other run of the mill guy, but something about Joel felt special. There didn’t seem to be any funny business with him; too sincere to try anything other than just a good old fashioned date.

You too, cowboy.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When Joel showed up at the restaurant, he clenched a small bouquet of pink peonies in his right hand and checked his watch obsessively. The minutes ticked away, as he kept a high alert for anyone who could be his potential date. He knew what you looked like, of course, but this being his first time doing anything of this sort is making him hyperaware of anything going awry.

When he does lay eyes on you, his whole gaze softens. A pink sundress, hair pristinely styled and a bounce in your step that reminded him of summer. You looked like an angel, the sunset behind you painting the sky tangerine, which reflected off of the shine against your supple skin. So young, beautiful, it was taking his breath away.

“Joel?”

Your voice matched your sweet demeanour, and he was taken out of his waking daydream.

“Hi,” is all he can say, letting his breath out as he relaxed. “Yes, hi, sorry. I’m Joel.”

“Hi,” you laugh back, eyes darting to the flowers in his hand. They matched your dress.

“These are for you,” he gets the hint, extending his arm out, and you can see the veins bulging in his forearm. He looked so much stronger in person, it was making your knees go weak.

“Thank you, wow,” you held them up to your nose to smell the sweet aroma. “I love peonies.”

“Me too,” he smiled, showing off a string of pearly white teeth, that contrasted with the pink of his lips and the even tan of his skin.

“Shall we?” He extended his arm to you for you to grab onto, and you got to feel the warmth of his skin for yourself. Your hand wrapped around his forearm as he opened the door of the restaurant for you, leading you inside and catching a glimpse of the backs of your thighs as you walked in front of him.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When you were finally sitting, the conversation flowed easily. He was truly a Southern gentleman, like he had said. It wasn’t normal for you to open up so quickly, but Joel was so easy going and smart, he asked the right questions and knew when to listen. He knew how to listen, a warm gaze and a nod along, asking follow up questions to your answers and easily getting to know you.

You asked about his daughter, his family, his work. He was happy to tell you. 

“So, what’s a man like you doing being single in this city?” You take a sip of the wine in the glass in front of you, burgundy staining your bottom lip. 

He takes a bite of the food in front of him, a napkin pressing to his lips quickly after. “Been busy,” he started to say, honey brown eyes meeting yours for a second. His gaze sent an electrifying pulse down your spine.

“And, well, when Sarah’s mom left there was a ton to do,” he says it nonchalantly, as if that should be something normal to happen. “House, work, school, she keeps my hands full. Hasn’t been a lot of time.” His syrupy drawl is pulling you in, you’re enticed by the way he speaks to you. So easy, warm, soft. You wonder what his hands feel like on your body, lips pressed to your neck, torso pressed against yours.

“Sorry, that’s a lot of information for a first date,” he laughs to cover the awkwardness, and quietly curses himself for going into so much detail about his precarious family situation and basically admitting to you that he hasn’t fucked anything other than his hand in the last 5 or so years.

“No, it’s okay,” you slide your hand across the table, palm up, urging him to slot his hand into it. He takes it, easily, enveloping yours. His fingers find the pulse point on your wrist. You let your eyes drift up to his, drinking in the way his chest fills out the shirt he chose.

“What’s your story?” He asks earnestly, giving your hand a squeeze. “Can’t imagine there isn’t a long line of people outside waiting to take my place, darlin’.”

You blush furiously at the nickname, and let your eyes meet his once again. “You have no idea the… mess that is out there,” the wine is calling your name to take another sip at the mere thought, but you refrain. “Certainly not too many I am interested in.”

“So, is that why you’re on a date with an old man on a beautiful summer night in Austin?”

You could tell Joel, in a twisted way, liked that you were younger than him. It made him feel younger by admission, that you’d want to spend time with him. 

“You’re not that much older,” you laugh, not even believing it yourself as the words left your lips. “And I like to try new things. Don’t you like trying new things, sometimes?”

It was his turn to let his face go red at your insinuation. If only you knew how ‘new’ this really was for him, how much he was pushed out of his comfort zone right now.

You didn’t notice. 

A little more polite small talk and exchanging of stories was all you could take before the tension was becoming too much. After another glass of wine and a shared plate of sky-high chocolate cake for dessert, you were enjoying his company and could tell he was enjoying yours all the same. When you met his gaze again, hands still intertwined, you could tell there was a question on the tip of his tongue.

“Would you want to…“ - a nervous pause, with a halo of lust - “come back to mine for a nightcap? I’ve got an empty house this evening.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, knowing in your heart that Joel must’ve made arrangements for his family not to be home in anticipation. He had to have planned for you, known in his heart you’d say yes.

“I’d love that.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Joel’s home is unmistakably him. It smells like a pine candle that sits near the front door and a faint aroma of laundry detergent. There’s photos everywhere, him and his daughter, his brother’s family. Big windows were letting in the twinkling lights of the city outside, the inky sky making them look brighter against its canvas.

“You have a beautiful home,” you say, although it seems a little formal for the situation. What else do you say to a grown-up in their house?

“Thank you,” he takes a bottle of whiskey from the bar cart and pours two rock glasses, handing you one. He flicks on a lamp, ambient light filling the room and painting his skin amber orange, as he joins your side by his kitchen table.

“I did a lot of the construction myself, the decorations are my daughter.” He points lazily to the trinkets on the shelves and photos on the wall. “I don’t really have a good eye for that type of stuff.” 

You take a sip from the drink and it coats your throat, burning down as you suppress a cough at the taste. You nod along as he explains the design choices he made in the home, and you play along, knowing it’s likely out of anxiety.

“What about upstairs?”

Your eyes are innocent as they meet his, although you understand the implication you’re making whole-heartedly. He puts his glass down on the kitchen table and you follow his lead, his strong hand around your wrist as he leads you up the stairs wordlessly.

“It’s not anything,” - he clears his throat - “special,” he shows you around the second floor, finishing at the door of his bedroom that has been left slightly ajar. 

You step in quietly, leading him inside as you take in the bedroom. Neatly folded clothes, a made bed that looks well loved. Blue sheets and fluffy pillows, big bay windows that let the moonlight in.

“I think it’s nice,” you say simply, letting yourself turn around to meet his broad frame. He looks down at you slightly, eyes meeting yours as your hand drops from his grasp and snakes around his neck. His hands come up the sides of your dress, pulling it up slightly, but landing on your waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks tentatively in the dark of the room, his lips so close to yours already you can practically taste the whiskey on his lips for yourself. You answer him by pressing your tentative lips to his, slotting them together easily.

Joel’s grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he takes you in, pulling you as close as he possibly can. He can smell the perfume on your neck and the wine on your lips from earlier, and it’s making his need for you increase tenfold. 

You pull him into you as you stumble back to let your knees hit his mattress, sitting down and letting your hands come to his belt buckle. Your hands came to undo it as he pulled his t-shirt off to throw onto the floor beside him, bending down to help you pull the dress over your shoulders to meet his t-shirt.

You made quick work of his jeans, pushing them to the ground and looking up at him with a keen glance. You could see the breath making his belly rise and fall, anticipating your touch on him any second.

When your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, his breath hitched and his head rolled back. He was already half-hard only from kissing you, so a few pumps made him easily ready for your mouth.

“You’re so big,” is all you can think to say, head spinning from the sheer size of him right in front of your face. Your mouth watered at the way his hand palmed through your hair, pulling you in closer to him for some relief.

It was intoxicating to him, the way your mouth fit around his cock. Such a beautiful sight to see, your head licking and sucking at his tip, gathering spit there to lubricate him. His knees were going weak as he watched intently, no thought able to cross his mind, other than maybe how long it had been since he’d had anyone to do this with. He was going to have to pace himself if it was all like this.

Your mouth constrained around the length of him, taking him deeper and deeper with every bob of your head. Filthy sounds were filling the room now, of your eager mouth pulling him in as best you could. His hand stayed steady at the back of your head, not pushing, just softly pressed there for support. His other hand found your shoulder, pushing down your bra strap.

“God, darlin’,” was all he could choke out, using his hand to pull you off of him. Your hand lazily stroked him as you looked up at him, spit collecting at the corners of your mouth. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doin’ that,” his laugh eased some of the tension in the room, as you took your other hand and wiped the spit away.

He leaned down, pressing a fervent kiss to your lips before using his own hands to unclasp your bra and let your breasts free. His lips traveled to the side of your neck, before he was kneeled down between your legs, sucking your nipple into his mouth. He lapped at you, all consuming, as his hand came up to grasp the other breast that wasn’t being serviced. He moaned at the noises you were making, lewd whines into the night air that only encouraged him. 

His lips made their way down your body to your clothed centre, your back against his soft sheets. You looked down at him intently, watching as he pulled your panties down your legs and immediately delved into your pussy with broad strokes of his tongue.

Your body jerked upwards at the contact, hand fisting the sheet beside you as he lapped at you, like a man starved. His expert tongue found your clit easily, sucking and licking at you for what felt like hours. You thought about his heavy cock between his legs, begging to be touched, hard as ever as he licked at you desperately.

“Joel,” you whined out, feeling your hand reach down to grab at his curls and push him deeper into you. That only made him moan, one hand lazily fisting his cock as the other came up to dip a finger into you, allowing you to see stars when you screwed your eyes shut.

His fingers were so large, pressed into your core as you fucked yourself on them and his tongue in tandem. He was groaning and grunting, and you hoped his neighbours couldn’t see into the window at the desperate filth that was going on in his bedroom.

“Fuck, Joel, please,” you begged, but he had no mercy, and your orgasm was creeping up on you. He was ready to watch you come undone, pushing a second finger into you and furiously sucking on your clit. His other hand left his own pleasure and wrapped around your breast, pressing and playing with the hard nub there, pinching to provide a little bit of sting to it. It was sending you into another dimension.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” and his voice is gravely and debauched, enough to send you into your first orgasm, chanting his name and pulling on his hair. He was happily licking at you, fingers still pressing in and out as to not mess up the rhythm, as you rode out your orgasm against his face. 

When you started to come down, he finally detached himself from you before standing up between your legs and pressing his broad palms to your thighs. He stayed there for a moment, cock still hard and heavy between his legs as you gazed up at him, out of breath from his work.

“You’re really good at that,” was all you could think to say, head clouded with arousal. You moved up on the bed a little, opening your legs and pressing your knees apart to show your pussy to him again.

“Please fuck me, Joel,” you breathe out, letting your hand find your own clit to rub it teasingly for him. It was still so sensitive, but the way he was looking down at you, eyes dark and stormy with need, you could almost come again just from that.

He put a knee down on the bed and crawled on top of you, his lips finding yours once again as your hands found his face. You held him there, savouring the kiss as his tongue crashed against yours, all warmth and spit and the taste of you. His hand found your breast and continued to play with your nipples, softly, coaxing more moans into his mouth from yours.

He leaned back and slipped his cock inside of you, filling you up immediately and making you gasp. He groaned into the side of your neck, tonguing the side of your ear and kissing you feverishly as he pumped in and out of you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly close, your moans filling the room as he rocked in and out of you. He kissed your jaw and chest, before reaching down between your bodies and pressing his thick finger to your clit again, using the wetness there to draw circles around your sensitive nub.

“So pretty,” he smiles into your neck, your hand on the back of his, playing with the now-sweaty strands of hair on the nape. “So pretty for me, taking my cock,” the dirty talking is welcome as he continues to bring you closer to a second orgasm, your breath hitching once again.

“Come inside of me,” you say it like a whisper, a secret in the stillness of the room, and Joel is unsure he even heard you correctly.

“Are you sure?” He says it not accusingly, but in a way that conveys he feels like he just won the lottery.

“Yes, please, fill me up.”

You can see the way his eyes darken more, shifting so he’s on his knees and using your body to fuck himself on his thick cock. His hand continued to play with your clit, bringing you so close to your orgasm that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. His cheeks were getting hot as he thrusted in and out furiously, and you could almost see the stress melt off of his face as he came close to his own undoing.

The white-hot feeling washes over you once again, eyes shutting before you’re back on your elbows and watching intently. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as his thrusts become sloppy, your name pouring out of his lips like a prayer. You’re clenching around him and letting him ride out his high alongside you, slowing after his hot cum coats your walls and leaves you full of him.

He collapses on top of you, cock softening inside as you both catch your breath together. Your chests are sticky with sweat as you breathe, taking in the smell of him, and the feel of his warmth on your body.

He pulls himself from you and flops beside you, still taking a moment to admire you. You look over at him, a lazy smile on your face as your hand reaches out to caress the skin of his chest. He takes the time to run his fingertips up your arms and back as you lay there in silence together, just soaking in the moment in a post-sex glow.

“I guess I should get going,” you say after a few beats, sitting up to grab your dress off the floor. You cringe at the thought of throwing your underwear on and leaving, this being just another random hookup for you that never lead to anything. Joel was sweet.

A confused look spreads across his features and his brows knit together, before sitting up next to you at the edge of the bed.

“I mean, I don’t know how these things usually go,” he laughs, as his hand finds your lower back. “But you don’t gotta run outta here like a scared animal or somethin’.”

You look up at him again, unsure of what to do next. In your, albeit limited, experience with dating app hookups, you were expected to leave pretty much right after.

“Oh, um,” you look around the room at the soft worn-in sheets and the TV across from Joel’s bed. You take a look at him again, your eyes meeting his to match his gaze, where you can tell he’s mentally begging that you’ll stay the night.

“I mean, if you don’t mind, I’d be happy to stay.” Joel smiled lopsidedly and let his hand rub soothing circles at your lower back. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he laughs, stepping over to go into the bathroom and warm up a cloth for the mess spilling out from between your legs. “I wouldn’t mind wakin’ up and doing all that again tomorrow.”

You laugh and lay back onto his bed as he presses the warm cloth to your pussy, his lips once again finding yours to pull you in for a sweet kiss. 

You nod, sliding between the comfortable sheets as Joel runs downstairs to grab your abandoned drinks as well as a couple of bottles of ice cold water. He slips into the sheets next to you, not bothering to throw on any pajamas (not that you were complaining), and settling in beside you. After a few gulps of water, you nestled into his chest and let your hand find his tummy, resting on it as you listened to the even pattern of his breath.

“We should do this again. Like, after tomorrow morning.” you say quietly as you’re drifting in and out of sleep. His fingertips continues to slide across your arm and give you goosebumps as you snuggled closer into him, hearing a laugh exhale out of his nose and feeling a kiss press to the top of your head. 

In his sleepy, deep southern drawl, he replies. “Don’t have to ask me twice, darlin’.”

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic

[janaispunk]

sun is going down

chapter 1 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.2k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury, blood, guns, i think that’s it?

a/n: i’m ridiculously nervous about sharing this story, it has been on my mind for over a year and i’ve been too intimidated to start working on it for the longest time. i really hope that someone likes it haha

follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

The alarm goes off in the middle of the night. You shoot up, your body on high alert, your heart beating rapidly, before your mind is even fully awake.

Probably just a false one, you try telling yourself as you make your way to the office. You’ve never had a false alarm, but– one can hope, right?

The place is plunged into darkness, no windows for any moonlight to seep through. You turn on the camera feed, squinting at the grainy screen. There’s movement in the living room, two people, from what you can make out. Not infected, judging from the way they’re moving, but one of them seems to be injured. Please don’t be raiders. There isn’t much to loot in the house, but the anxiety is already settling in your chest, threatening to crawl up your throat.

You turn on the sound and a panicked girl’s voice rings through the room as if you were standing right next to her.

“Fuck, Joel, wake up. Joel, please–”

It’s eerily similar to words that you’ve said once, the memory still fresh, even now. You wonder if your voice was as thick with tears then as that girl’s is right now.

Not again. Not in this house, not while you’re watching, unable to do anything. Not again.

You still hear it, the echo in your mind clear as ever. Keep them safe. Promise me. The promise you failed to keep.

Unblinking, you stare at the screen, your mind running a mile a minute. This could be a trap. They could have been watching, could have somehow figured you out. Or, the tiny voice in the back of your head insists, or they really need help.

The girl is pleading for the man to hold on, to not fall asleep. The desperation in her tone is tearing at you, urging you into action. Fuck it, you have to do something.

You grab your gun from the wall and slowly make your way up the stairs, ignoring the anxious trembling in your hands. Maybe this is how you die.

Leaning your back against the wall, you take a deep breath, a fruitless attempt to calm yourself, and switch on the lamp outside. You can’t hear them anymore, but knowing that the living room is now bathed in light, you’re certain that they’re on high alert now. Shit shit shit. You steel yourself, undo the complicated lock and push the heavy door open.

Please don’t let it be a trap.

They’re both staring at you, a young girl standing in front of a man, lying on the ground, taking panting breaths. She’s pointing a gun straight at you, as if she’s trying to shield his larger body with hers. The weapon looks much too big in her hands.

The memory of a similar image tugs at the back of your mind, but you shove it away. Stay in the present, stay right here.

You clear your throat, raising your hands slightly. You don’t remember the last time you spoke to another living person. Your voice cracks.

“I– I don’t mean you any harm. I live here, I saw you on– on the cameras.”

The girl furrows her brow, her eyes flitting across the room.

“They’re hidden, you won’t– Listen, I just want to help, I promise.”

The sound of your voice wavers, almost unfamiliar to your own ears. The girl lowers her gun a fraction, but the distrust is written all over her face. You can’t blame her. You clear your throat again, willing your hands to stop shaking.

“Your dad, is he– has he been bitten?” Please say no, please say no, please say no.

She shakes her head quickly. An expression that you can’t place flies over her features. Thank god.

“He’s not my– no. He got– he got stabbed.”

You can tell that she tries to sound strong, brave, but you recognize the panic in her eyes. You see it often enough when you look into the mirror.

You take another steadying breath. You can do this.

“Okay. I can help with that, if– if you want. I have medicine, bandages…”

Hope flashes over her face, mixed with the obvious conflict of not trusting you.

“You can come downstairs, it’s safer there. I– I should turn the lights back off.”

You’re painfully aware of how bright the house must shine through the darkness, from how far away it’s probably visible right now. Your nerves are fluttering anxiously.

“I don’t mean to hurt you, I swear. Just– let me help you.”

She swallows, hard, and fixes you with a stare.

“It’s just you down there?”

You nod in silent confirmation, not trusting your voice on this. It’s the first time you’ve ever had to admit it to anyone but yourself.

The girl sighs, her head turning between you and the man behind her a few times, surely seeking guidance from him, but his eyes are halfway shut, his lips trembling. Your gaze falls on the dark red stain on his shirt.

Don’t look, don’t think- Just focus on this, right now, right here.

You tell her your name, promise again that it’s safe. Finally, she nods timidly.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” You nod back at her, give her a small smile that she doesn’t return. “I’ll come closer now, we’ll carry him, alright?”

The girl looks at the man again. Her body tenses when you near them, but together you manage to get him back on his feet and half walk, half carry him. You push the door open wider and heave him down the stairs.

In the back of your mind, you take note of the sound of multiple feet walking down the steps, and how long it’s been since… No. Stay in the present.

You prop him up on the couch, where the girl keeps hovering by his side while you rush up again to close and lock the door and turn off the lights. Next, you throw open the bathroom cabinet, gathering all the material that you might need.

You return and crouch down beside him, lying your things out on the table, and take a closer look, your fingers halting over him. He’s watching you through lidded eyes, a sheen of sweat on his pale face.

“What’s his name?” you ask, looking up at the girl.

“Joel,” she answers reluctantly. “I’m Ellie.”

“Hi, Ellie.” You hope your smile looks sincere, not betraying how nervous you are right now. How shaky the sight of his blood-soaked shirt makes you feel.

“Okay, Joel?” you address him directly. He only manages a tired hum in return. “I’m gonna clean this and try stitching you up. It’s gonna hurt, I have painkillers, if you–”

But he shakes his head, humming again.

“Alright,” you sigh, and get to work.

You explain what you’re doing with every step, to calm both their and your own nerves. You know how to do this, you’ve trained for this. The wound doesn’t look too deep and you pray that there’s no organ damage involved, because you don’t have the means to treat that properly, but it doesn’t look like it. There seems to be an infection spreading though, so you gather some antibiotics as well, hoping that they’ll still work the way they’re supposed to. Joel inhales sharply a few times, but seems to be out of it for most of the time, which you’re grateful for.

“How did this happen?” you ask, looking up at Ellie who’s still standing beside you, watching intently over what you’re doing.

“Raiders,” she mutters. “It was a broken baseball bat, I think.”

“Jesus,” you sigh. You wonder how they got out, your thoughts circling back to the gun in her hands, and you suppress a shudder. “Are you injured too?” you ask, deciding not to press her about the attack.

“No,” comes her quiet answer. You don’t catch the way she averts her eyes.

“Alright,” mumble eventually and straighten up. You’ve cleaned and bandaged the wound to the best of your ability and now you just have to hope that it will be enough.

“Do you want something to eat?” you ask the girl, who has taken to sit beside the couch on the ground, now that you’ve moved away from it. Her face lights up at the question and she nods eagerly.

You get two bowls of the soup that you’ve had for dinner for the both of you and she has already had a few spoonfuls before she eyes you warily.

“It’s not poisoned or something, is it?”

You huff a laugh and keep eating yours, holding her gaze with raised eyebrows. “Does it look like it?”

“Um, no…” she trails off, swallowing another spoonful and sighing at the taste. You wonder how long it’s been since they ate something. “You could have poisoned only mine though.”

“Well I didn’t,” you grin. It feels foreign, talking to another person, another child, but a warmth is slowly spreading through you that has nothing to do with the soup.

She wakes Joel and gets him to swallow a little soup as well as some water before he collapses back on the couch, his eyes closed and his breath evening out.

“Why do you… have all this?” she asks eventually, setting her bowl down on the table and looking around the room, the wood-covered walls and the multiple doors.

“My dad built it,” you reply, forcing your voice to stay neutral. “B–before.”

She hums in acknowledgement, her eyes still full of wonder.

“You’re welcome to stay,” you hear yourself say, “until he gets better, I mean.”

You don’t know if you’re being reckless, if this will be the thing that finally gets you killed, but it seems too elaborate to be a trap. And maybe, just maybe you like the idea of not being alone down here, even just for a short while, a little too much. She thanks you, her expression just as weary as you feel.

You offer that she can wash up if she wants, use the shower, that you could give her some clothes of yours. You’re still not sure if you’re doing the right thing, or if you’re just being incredibly stupid, but the sight of her worn down shirt and the way her hair is matted down with dirt makes your heart swell with the wish to care for her.

Her eyes flicker nervously between Joel and the bathroom door a few times, but eventually she agrees. While the shower runs, you settle down on the armchair across from the couch, sinking into the cushions, your knees pulled up to your chin, your eyes resting on the sleeping man. He’s huge, taking up the whole length of it, his feet dangling over the armrest, overwhelming even in his unconscious state.

You really hope that they’re good people. He could overpower you easily, there’s no doubt of that. You might not be a terrible fighter, but you don’t think that you’d be a match for him.

Your gaze lingers on his face, the strong shape of his nose, the pout of his lower lip, his brow furrowed even in his sleep. His fingers are twitching, one wrist adorned with a broken watch.

Ellie exits the bathroom again, clad in your old clothes, her damp hair dripping into the neckline of the t-shirt, like a younger version of you. It makes your heart ache.

Now that the adrenaline is rushing from your body, you realize how weird all this really is. You haven’t spoken to anybody in years and now there’s two people here, in your space. Maybe you’ve finally lost it for good.

You show her to the biggest of the four bedrooms, the only one that no one has ever slept in. It’s easier, opening this door, than the two other ones that you keep shut. You debate moving Joel from the couch to the bed, Ellie mumbling about his back, but ultimately you decide against it.

“Okay,” you hesitate, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m in the room right next to you, if you need anything… Just– please don’t murder me in my sleep, okay?”

She mirrors your wry smile. “I won’t if you won’t.”

You nod and leave the room, praying that you’re making the right call here. You’re doing something good, right? And no one would plan an ambush like this. Would they?

You heave a sigh and retreat to your own bedroom, your gun clutched tightly in your grasp. You doubt that it would save you, not against that man who’s currently softly snoring on your couch. Still, it makes you feel a little better. You turn the lock on your door too, just in case.

When you sink back under the covers, eyes still wide open and staring into the darkness, a small smile creeps onto your lips despite your worries.

It’s not the way it was, it will never be that way again. But not being the only soul down here fills you with the ghost of a warmth that you had thought you’d never feel again.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

#janas fics #fic: safe and sound #joel miller #ellie williams #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories

[keeterz]

Time to make an updated post on the Guilty Gear artwork I've made up to this point!

First things, gotta include Bridget and Elphelt since these were made this year in 2023. Baiken, Testement, and Giovanna were done back in 2022. I think I'd like to do a Jack-O illustration at some point, and a friend of mine wants to help fund a Ramlethal print, so those might be coming up in the future at some point.

I've made some updates to the chibis as well to include a handful of the male cast! A few noteworthy mentions include an Axl that was inspired by an animation that my friend DoovadHohdan made, a Potemkin that works as a Pot Buster when you use it as a sticker on another sticker, as well as the husbandos in general being paired with plushies of their partners (well, missing Nago and Elphelt because that wasn't a thing at the time)

A little after the Elphelt illustration I also made an Elphelt chibi as well! This one will be double-sided once I convert it to a charm~

Finally, a sneak peak at something that isn't Strive related...well, not yet, at least (maybe). Here's a value comp for an ABA illustration I'm working on based on her Accent Core design! Hoping she makes it into Strive at some point.

I might want to explore doing some Accent Core related artwork in the future. Accent Core is a lot closer to the point of when I first got into the series in my middle school/highschool days, and there are some designs from the older games that are still hecking rad. Plus the music is awesome :D

It's kind of funny; I have to confess that I actually don't play Strive. Truth be told, the GGST movement and limited combo structure never clicked with me when the game first came out (and I was always more of a 3D fighter guy for gameplay with games like Tekken and Soul Calibur). And even though I am pretty sure I would actually thoroughly enjoy playing I-No and Elphelt with the season 3 changes, I just don't really do as much gaming these days since I'm more enamored with making art (and a few other things like biking). Plus I'm kind of just waiting for Tekken 8 at this point (dear god I hope the online is good just this one time god).

But as an artist? You bet your butt I hecking love coming back to Guilty Gear. I've been a fan of the series since the early 2000s (back when I stumbled across an abandonware PC version of Guilty Gear X and became sold on the series). The characters from this series check a lot of boxes for things I love to draw, from the way they are designed and all of their classic rock references all the way down to their zany personalities and backstories. And I feel like Guilty Gear is really special in this regard for me. Even though I'd rather play other fighting games (like Tekken or maybe even SF6), Guilty Gear is probably the one fighting game fandom I want to do art of the most.

If you are a Guilty Gear fan stumbling across this art collection post, hope you are enjoying the art! I will enjoy the series vicariously through you as I get back to working on some Tekken 8 artwork for Frosty Faustings, lmao. And if you're someone who is new to the series, give Strive a try! It's neat and the characters are great.

#guilty gear #ggst #elpheltnation #elphelt valentine #Elphelt #Bridget #Baiken #Testament #giovanna #giovanna guilty gear #elphelt ggst #elphelt guilty gear #testament guilty gear #bridget ggst #bridget guilty gear #sol badguy #ky kiske #ramlethal valentine #axl low #potemkin #i no guilty gear #i no #may guilty gear #millia rage #nagoriyuki #johnny guilty gear #goldlewis dickinson #aba guilty gear #fighting game fanart #fighting games

[norrizzandpia]

Masterlist 1

- Disclaimer! All of these have happy endings, I am not one for sad endings lol

- More works on Masterlist 2 which you can find the link to on the pinned post on my blog

Lando Norris:

Reckless Driving

When McLaren thinks its funny to put Y/n in a sports-car with her boyfriend and a set of question cards. Spoiler Alert: She doesn’t!

The Infamous Stream

When Max streams and the chat goes wild for Lando and Y/n’s sappy love.

I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You Pt. 2

What if love isn’t enough? What if the obstacles are too great and all the whirlwind romance ends up being is the right person, but wrong time?

Call Your Mom

Y/n’s struggle with mental health and the journey, accompanied by Lando and her best friends, she goes through in order to get better.

London Boy

In which she falls in love with a London boy as an American girl.

Flowers

After the Silverstone Grand Prix, Y/n wants to do something nice for her successful boyfriend, but she quickly finds out her kind gesture means a lot more to him than what she expected.

Caught

When living with their best friends proves to be the worst decision Lando and Y/n ever made.

Used Pt. 2

A bet can do more harm than good.

She Doesn’t Know Who I Am Pt. 2

Lando’s in New York and no one knows who he is. Especially the girl who asks for his number.

Enemies To Lovers, Ya Know?

They’ve always hated each other. Always. Right?

Gentle

In which Y/n’s past is a little haunted, but Lando knows exactly how to make her understand that she is safe with him.

Spa

When a reality check causes Y/n to worry about him coming home to her every day for the rest of their lives.

Try On! (Smut Warning)

She thought his opinion on some new lingerie would be good. Spoiler alert, it was good. Really good.

The Softest Launch

He tried to be a secret, but the eyes never lie.

It’s the High Altitude. (Smut Warning)

They’ve missed each other. What can they say?

The Video Pt. 2

Y/n and Lando’s club dancing sends the F1 world into a frenzy.

Lando’s Biggest Fangirl Pt. 2 Pt. 3

His girlfriend. Lando’s biggest fangirl is his girlfriend.

I’m Sorry To Go

She’s not quite ready to have him leave just yet.

What Are You Doing Up?

She can’t go to sleep when he isn’t there.

I Can’t Go a Second Without You

She was gone for five hours, but apparently that’s too long in Lando’s book.

Happy Birthday

It’s his favorite person’s birthday.

Don’t Wake Up Yet (Smut Warning)

When Lando gets home from a race weekend without his girlfriend, he just can’t wait.

Lacy Pt. 2 (Oscar Ending) Pt. 2 (Lando Ending)

To the song “Lacy” by Olivia Rodrigo, that should be enough summarized.

I Love Your Body

It was the mirrors.

Boyfriend Lando

Where the chat goes crazy for Boyfriend Lando.

Longing Glances and Whispered Confessions Pt. 2

In which, in the darkness of the night, Lando Norris loves Y/n Fewtrell, only for the pain of their secrecy to plague them in the daylight.

Oscar Piastri:

*I also have another Oscar imagine under the Lando section. It is titled Lacy and has an Oscar ending, something you will see if you look at it. It is the second part to an imagine focused on reader loving Lando when he loves someone else. The Oscar ending was incredibly popular and one of my favorites to write! Hope you stumble across this and find that Lacy (Oscar’s Ending)*

Let Me Love You

A friendship where the lines are incredibly blurred is risky, but it’s even more risky to fall in love with a girl who won’t let anyone in romantically.

Caught

Y/n’s and Oscar’s fun in his room takes a surprising, awkward turn very quickly.

- The Vacation (Smut Warning)

They just keep getting caught. (Could be read as a Caught Part 2 or a standalone)

This Is About Oscar?! Pt. 2 Pt. 3

Y/n’s new song exposes a side of Oscar no one knew about.

I’ll Be The Fred To Your Daphne

He’ll always be the Fred to her Daphne, the peanut butter to her pb and j, and the salt to her pepper.

Best Friends To Benefits To Lovers

They’ve been dating for months after being the closest of friends for years. The question is, however, did they start out as best friends with benefits?

The Quiet Night and the Loud Morning (Smut Warning)

It was bound to happen at some point.

Hurt Me Once Pt. 2

In which they just miss the childhood best friends to lovers trope.

She Wears The Pants, Right?

Nobody saw it coming. Nobody.

Let Me Help

She’s got a math test the next day and unfortunately, she can’t do math. However, her boyfriend can.

Loving You in the Shadows Pt. 2

They’ve been together for years. Well, they haven’t been together for years. Yet.

Cover It Up

That one piece of clothing was covering so much and Oscar just had to take it off.

She’s Missed You

In which Nicole and Chris welcome Oscar’s longtime girlfriend to live with them after he leaves, only to not tell him and have to update him when he shows up for a surprise visit.

Charles Leclerc:

Edits

When Carlos exposes Y/n watching edits of her boyfriend on Instagram. She’s incredibly embarrassed, but after an interesting conversation with the man himself, should she really be?

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri fanfiction #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri imagines #oscar piastri x reader #mclaren #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n

[lxclerc]

𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 ─ 𝐦𝐯𝟏

summary: where max verstappen is the subject of a love song from a singer who never writes love songs pairing: max verstappen x american singer!reader faceclaim: no one specifically but based off olivia rodrigo

note: me? writing max verstappen? smau fluff? on main? everyone look away.

dailyynupdates

liked by user33, user4, user16 and others

dailyynupdates yn was seen around monte carlo the past few days, taking pictures with fans and allegedly cozying up with three time world champion max verstappen

view all 104,210 comments...

user12 what is going on in the house of commons because this was the last thing i expected

user39 this is quite literally the most random pairing i've ever stumbled across

user91 how do they even know each other 😭 user63 right like...where did this even come from? how did it start? literally how did they meet? they could not be farthest apart in the sphere of famous people

user19 now who the hell is max verstappen and why is he with my wife?

user49 oh girl you have a lot to catch up on the max lore user71 max is a formula one driver user56 saying max is a formula 1 driver like he currently isn't dominating the sport to the point where people hates him saying he's making it boring since he keeps winning because he's just that fucking good that literally no other driver can keep up is kinda wild user10 oh so our girl's new man is good at his job user52 "good at his job might just be the biggest understatement of the century when it comes to max. man's a fucking beast at his job

user48 i dont have to see her with her ratty ex anymore omfg war is over

user93 dare i say...they're adorable

user82 yn being in an age appropriate, healthy relationship? i never thought the day would come

user74 we won for real 🥹🫶

dailyynupdates

liked by user23, user31, user69 and others

dailyynupdates max and yn in a video posted by yn's friend 😭

view all 59,129 comments...

user93 oh my god look at them 😭

user81 they look so in love i want to cry

user65 "maximillian, do i look pretty like this?" "you always look pretty" i couldn't quite catch what he said at the end but 😭😭😭

user85 dutch here and i believe he said "laiverd" which means darling user75 this means so much to me user65 you just made my entire week

user45 seeing her in love after all the shit men is healing a part of me i didnt know was broken

user53 max fixing her hood then kissing her cheek what if you just stabbed me

user31 every time i see these, i get the urge to take a shot of bleach 😀

sincerelyyn ✓

liked by conangrey, maxverstappen1, taylorswift and others

sincerelyyn can't have a conversation if it's not all about you

view all 402,452 comments...

yourfriend as the other person of those conversations, he's fine i guess 😒

sincerelyyn you know i love youuuuu

taylorswift love seeing you happy ❤️

sincerelyyn ❤️❤️ user73 mother is all of us user63 you know it's real when it's taylor swift approved

conangrey i hate happy couples i hope you both trip 🫶

sincerelyyn die 🫶

user92 their friendship is everything to me

user15 not girlie trying to soft launch like we all don't know who it is 😭

user43 THEYRE SO ‼️🥵🥰⚠️

user65 you're so right

user24 i'm so happy finally seeing our girl happy 😭

user84 "someday i'll be everything to somebody else" YES YOU ARE BABYGIRL 😭

maxverstappen1

liked by sincerelyyn, charles_leclerc, landonorris and others

maxverstappen1 my american girl 🩷

view all 308,291 comments...

charles_leclerc i still can't believe this is happening

maxverstappen1 for someone who don't even follow me, you sure are early to my posts 😒 user91 max gagged him with that im afraid

landonorris please please max talk to her about getting me tickets 😭

user85 lando is just like us fr struggling to get guts tour tickets maxverstappen1 no ❤️ landonorris 😔 sincerelyyn @landonorris let me get you in contact with my team 🤍 maxverstappen1 baby noooo sincerelyyn be nice, max landonorris HELL YEAH THANKS YN user42 this is the crossover i never thought i needed

user66 max posting non racing content and being all soft in the comments for yn in what world am i in

user52 fr i feel like im in an alternate universe 😭

sincerelyyn love youuuu

maxverstappen1 love you more

sincelyyn i never knew love could be so golden till i met you <3

maxverstappen1 mijn hele hart is van jou, schat (you own my entire heart, darling) user42 they mean so very much to me 😭

danielricciardo god the two of you make me nauseous

maxverstappen1 hating because you ain't us danielricciardo im not liking that attitude, kid 😒 user71 daniel is so us

sincerelyyn

liked by maxverstappen1, taylorswift, yourfriend and others

sincerelyyn so american will be out on all platforms at midnight. a letter to the man i love, the only way i know how ❤️

view all 592,649 comments...

maxverstappen1 i adore you with everything in my being ❤️

sincerelyyn ik hou van je (i love you)

i hope you guys liked this as much as i loved writing it 🫶

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen instagram au #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen fluff

[servicpop]

CURRENTLY VIEWING : slightly obsessive deliquent oc x good student male!reader

「ㅤSFWㅤ」ㅤbandaging up your (almost) bf adrien after a bad fight!

✙ warnings — mention of violence / blood / slight homophobia / slight suggestions of stalking or obsession

notes ,, first actual writing post... hope you guys like it "

Adrien and you lived two worlds. You were a model student, perfect in every way, whereas Adrien was nothing but a deliquent who skipped all his classes and failed all of his subjects (except for sports). If you two were so different, how did you end up together?

It started with an exchange of glances when you both started your first year of being a senior, somehow your presence was never known by Adrien until that one glance turned into never ending eye-contact, briefly smiling at eachother as you two met eyes from across the courtyard. His heart felt like it was about to crumble whenever you smiled at him. Your lips, your perfectly imperfect teeth shining at him. He had definitely fallen for you.

But how would his friends feel if they knew he was crushing on another guy?

As much as he wanted to hide it he couldn't. Everytime he went home and sat down in his chair, he would be welcomed with your face in the form of printed pictures stored in his top drawer. He knew it was wrong but he couldn't help it, you were so attractive you reeled him in like a fish. But somehow. Somehow. You and him talked more and more, exchanged numbers, hung out a few times and even brushed hands once! Adrien for sure didn't wash his hand after that. You weren't confirmed to be dating but it sure seemed like it.

And that was the start of Adrien's fall for you.

It was around 5:00pm, the sun still shining brightly but casted a slight orange hue into the empty council room, indicating that sunset would near. You were currently in said room, sorting the books, cleaning the tables, finishing off the work your teachers assigned you because you were such a good student. Yeah it was nice for them to rely on you but to be honest, all you wanted to do was go home but alas you couldn't.

Almost as if the universe pitied your unbearable boredom, the door to the council room clicked opened. At first you thought it was a teacher, but turning around you met the deep eyes of Adrien. His soulless eyes bore into yours, his knuckles dripping with blood as he stumbled into the room, almost collapsing on the couch.

"Got into another fight," He grumbled, his deep sultry voice reverberated in the room. Shit, his voice was hot. Snapping out of your thoughts, you quickly rushed over to him, viewing his bloody and bruised knuckles. It looked bad. Probably from beating the shit out of someone but you wouldn't question it. After some rummaging around you finally found the first aid kit, clicking the white box open before kneeling down infront of Adrien, a small smirk plastered his face.

"You don't have to you know? I just wanted—" Adrien's voice was cut out by a sharp hiss as you applied the alcohol to his wounds.

"Let me be a good friend to you."

Ooh... friend? That hit Adrien straight to the gut

"I just wanted company."

"Then your not allowed to hold my hand with those bloody knuckles."

"..."

"please bandage my fingers."

A wholehearted chuckle left your throat as you fished out the puppy patterned bandages around his knuckles, making sure you kissed each and every knuckles after. Just to make sure that there was no lingering pain of course, not because you two were had something for eachother or anything. You looked up at Adrien to see a small smile on his face, he was always so serious looking and whenever he smiled it was usually the shit eating grin type of smile. You had only really grown closer with him for a few weeks now so... why were you already hooked on him?

"You lost in thought?" He asked, snapping you out of your little trance. You shook your head, and he brought your chin up to meet his in a light kiss, his calloused fingertips gripping your chin lightly while his other hand found solace in your own. It was something straight out of a romance movie, his warm fingers against yours, his lips against your soft ones in such a gentle kiss. You never knew deliquents could be this gentle. Pulling away you wiped your lips and tugged your hands from Adrien's. You weren't dating him. You can't do this. You turned your head a pout adorned your lips, "Don't just casually kiss me," you huffed.

"But I know you liked it." Adrien hummed.

extra notes ,, I didn't have a full goal for what relationship reader and Adrien would have but i really liked the enemies to lovers sort of denial trope. I also experimented with the colour coding of the text, I find it easier to identify when they're speaking but let me know your preferences! I'm a bit nervous posting this since its my first time ever posting on tumblr but yeah! Also no smut yet, still getting warmed up you know

#servicpop — fics/drabbles #bottom male reader #male reader #oc x male reader #x reader #sub male reader #male x male #male x reader #mlm

[kianely]

”LORD KNOWS, IT WOULD BE THE FIRST TIME”

i. PAIRING — Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

ii. SYNOPSIS — Leon saves you from the unlucky predicament you found yourself in when you decided to take a rewarding vacation overseas. He ends up liking you a little too much though, and not just in a platonic way. And naturally, you’re pretty love struck by him too.

iii. CONTENT — Mostly fluff, mentions of trauma (from what the reader saw while being rescued), mentions of Leon’s survival guilt, Leon’s smitten with you, fluff, tension and kissing at end, banter, he gives you a flip phone, work gathering, motorcycle ride, he finally gets a vacation, inaccurate depictions of the government, coercion to work for the government, RE4 Leon

iv. WC — 7.2k

You knew a lot. Too much. All because you decided to go abroad as a reward for finally getting a white-collar job. Your countless years spent in post-secondary education whilst having a part-time job paid off, and before you started your new job, you decided to indulge in a trip overseas.

You never expected to get lost during one of the tours, much less to find yourself stumbling across what seemed to be a ghost town that had a few…peculiar citizens. They told you to get lost when you asked for directions, and the one time you found a map plastered on a wall, it was an outdated one that didn’t even show the modern roads, no use in that.

That’s what led to your current situation. Somehow, you were lucky enough to make it out of there with the help of a particular someone. You never expected to board a helicopter in your life, you felt your stomach churn as you glanced out the window and reflected on what you had just been through.

All the thoughts revolving in that mind of yours were the freakish events and sights you had been an unwilling witness to. Ones that would undoubtedly throw you right into therapy, and have you tossing and turning in your bed at night like a scared child with a night light thinking a monster would seep out from their closet or underneath their bed. You would never set foot into a movie theater to watch a well-done horror movie ever again, all the things you had seen in the last couple of days topped all of that.

You wished you could wash and reset your eyes after all the mutated and downright monstrous creatures that flashed through your brain now and again. Hell, you now believed that every single urban myth or legend was a complete possibility, probably lurking out there somewhere. Every moving object just made your heart drop like from when limbs had reached out to try and grab or swing at you. You wanted to curl up into a little ball and be cradled by a parental figure, to be coddled and rocked back and forth until you fell asleep with no worries on your mind.

The murky fluids carried by the bodies of water in underground tunnels that were potent with diseases and infections were the same ones that had dried up on your once damp and soaked pants. You were damn lucky you hadn’t gotten an open wound anywhere under your upper thighs, how horrible would it be for you to escape and end up dying a day later from an infection?

The heavy gunfire and explosives left your ears physically hurting, you hoped the lingering buzzing noise would eventually leave. The only soothing sound you would hear throughout your utterly traumatic experience was the voice of a certain strong agent urging you to “hurry up” and “stay close behind him.” The same one that reassured you and checked up on you whenever the two of you got a chance to relax and take a breath, he would look you in the eyes and tell you that it was all going to be okay. And you believed him.

“You doing alright?” Ah, there was that familiar voice.

Your internal response? Absolutely not. But then again, you didn’t have the heart to tell the source of the question the truth. After all, Leon had been protecting you and had even taught you the basics of self-defense and combat moves for extra measure. All out of his own generosity, too. You had picked up on why he was sent to the site. You weren’t a priority to his job, not at all. Yet, he had gone through hell just to make sure you got out alive.

So, you resorted to masking your response with some sarcasm, by now, you knew he’d appreciate it. It felt like you had known him forever. “Peachy. I don’t think I’ve ever been better, you?”

You were still in denial, accepting everything would be too hard right now and you’d crumble on the spot. You were trying to think of anything else: your first meal after all this, maybe you’d need to buy new clothes now so a fun shopping trip was in order, Leon’s perfect face — no, not that.

Leon scoffed — the corner of his lips tugged up in response to your sarcasm. “It’s okay to tell the truth, y’know. You went through a hell of a lot more than you should’ve had to. Give yourself some credit.”

“But I’m fine,” you insisted, slumping against your seat and scratching the nape of your neck. Your mind was all over the place, you wouldn’t even be able to articulate all your worries without stumbling over your words. “I made it out without any major injuries, thanks to you.”

The only injury you had gotten were some cuts on the palms of your hands from all the times you had toppled down onto the earthy ground or wooden floors and had to use your hands to catch yourself and dodge…whatever the hell was chasing after you. The damn bastard didn’t even have a name. Your back wasn’t doing so well either, you definitely wouldn’t be able to reach your toes or stretch properly for a good while.

Leon sighed at your stubbornness, finding himself in you, he understood you better than most people could. He reached over and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, and he smiled. “Don’t thank me for that. You did good and made it out alive. Plus…you did well at defending yourself, that leg strength of yours is no joke.”

His dazzling toothy smile stirred butterflies in your stomach. It felt genuine, a far cry from the close-mouthed smiles he had cast your way before. You wondered how he could muster up such a smile with that job of his.

You couldn’t offer anything more than an appreciative smile of your own as you looked down towards your lap, murmuring a small, “Guess so.” His praise made you feel a little light-headed, or maybe it was the gentleness within his gaze that had that effect.

He would’ve liked to hear those same words he just told you back during the incident of 1998, maybe even a small pat on the back accompanied by a “you did well, rookie.”

His missions involved so many casualties that it pained him, he had never grown desensitized to it despite his long years in the field. He’s too human for that, the angel perked on his shoulder wouldn’t allow him to be numb to it.

But you.

He managed to save you. And that was a couple fewer pounds that could’ve been slumped onto his shoulders — the ones that threatened to snap and give out on him from the years of massive and overwhelming guilt of everyone he had watched die. It didn’t matter that the two of you were essentially strangers, it would’ve crushed him if you had died on his watch. Through the short time you guys had been together, he had learned a lot about you.

Plus, he liked you. Romantically, he wasn’t the biggest fan of the meek and weak type. No. He liked mature people, those who could challenge his witty banter, who wouldn’t be clingy, and who could understand his baggage. You. You had spunk, the same kind he found himself yearning for in a companion when he went back to an empty home. He was fond of you, it made him wonder if he would be able to have you in his life.

Maybe, just maybe, whatever God was out there would grant him some mercy and give him what he wanted for once.

The helicopter had landed, and your leg was bouncing up and down out of anxiousness. Where the hell were you even at? You had nothing, not an ounce of technology or identification on you aside from your DNA and fingerprints.

Leon was feeling tense too, not for the unknowns but because he knew. He’d been forced to kiss the government’s ass and he was familiar with their way of thinking, they’d likely interrogate you, and if you had some use for them then they’d find a way to keep you around. He felt some solace in knowing that you didn’t display the same physical capabilities that he did, otherwise, they would snatch you up, train you into a machine, and send you out into the field in a couple of years if you made the cut.

Leon was the first to get out of the helicopter, extending his arm and offering his hand to help you. He knew you were feeling uneasy, he didn’t plan on leaving you alone to your thoughts. “Was this your first time on a helicopter?”

“Yeah, first time.” You gladly accepted his assistance, feeling the calluses on his skin as you cautiously got out. “Not how I imagined it to be like, but…”

“Well,” he shrugged, “you took it like a champ, no motion sickness or anything.”

“You must be used to flying all the time, right?”

Leon nodded, letting out a sigh before sharing his thoughts on the topic. He figured some honesty could go a long way. “I’m actually kind of sick of flying — planes, helicopters, everything. But if I ever get a vacation? I’m leaving behind a cloud of dust and making a beeline for Italy.”

“Italy, huh?” You made a mental note of that, for future reference. You just hoped there would be a way to keep in contact with him after everything was said and done.

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to go. Never have the time though.”

There was only so much conversation that could be held until you curiously took a look at your surroundings. You took a breath, feeling a bit daunted by some of the important-looking personnel whose eyes were boring into you.

“This place looks…pretty intimidating.”

Leon’s hand hovered over the small of your back so he could keep you close and guide you inside. “You’ll be okay.”

After that, the two of you pretty much got separated. He had to give a full report about the mission, and also explain how he had strung you along. The higher-ups had to run a background check on you and were going to monitor you. But he made you a promise, he’d come to see you when he was allowed to.

Leon always told himself he’d start minding his own damn business. You were well and alive, that should be more than enough for him. He didn’t deserve to indulge in someone who could make his life brighter, that was selfish. But, he so desperately wanted to have you in his life.

Whenever he got attached to someone, it all went south. But, he knew you were alone. He’d been in your situation — alone and with unimaginable baggage, a deadly mix. He needed to do something.

On the other hand, you were taken into questioning about what you had seen, and how the state of the town you had been visiting before everything went to shit. You hated having to talk about it, stammering over your words, and taking long pauses because it was too much. Broke down sobbing after one session. The denial phase progressively diminished, it was painful. They then transferred you to a more isolated area to monitor your physical health. They didn’t give a damn about your actual well-being, even if you had been injured they wouldn’t have tended to you.

You lost track of time, a couple of weeks had gone by.

You were a pitiful sight, all alone in a room with high-quality technology surrounding you — machines monitoring you just in case anything irregular popped up in your health that was connected to the bioweapons you had been exposed to.

But alas, the day finally came, and you could leave. You relished the clean clothes they gave you in place of the gown you had been required to wear for the monitoring. You sat on the twin-sized bed, gaze cast to the floor as you thought about what the future held.

Some gentle knocks on the door made you jump a little, your eyes immediately darting over to see who it was through the glass on the door. Leon. God, he was a sight for sore eyes. He looked concerned, the knit of his brows made that clear.

Mustering up a small and weak smile, you beckoned him to come in. If there was one person that could bring you some solace, it was him. He would’ve come sooner, hell, he would’ve visited you every damn day you were stuck here. But he wasn’t allowed to under strict orders, not until the day you were to be released.

Leon entered the room, closing the door behind him. He was carrying a bag of takeout in his free hand, holding it up for you to see. “The food here is pretty bland, figured you could use this.”

The sight almost made you groan, anything sounded more appetizing than the soup and packaged food you had been given the past few weeks. “God. Yes. Please.”

He chuckled at your reaction, setting the medium sized drink by your bedside before sitting down next to you. He opened up the bag and then handed you the plastic utensils, napkins, and the container.

“I’m glad you came, I was getting lonely.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Leon knew how deafening the silence could be, nothing good came out of being left to your thoughts.

“I owe you a meal someday,” you told him as you began eating. “You have to pick though, I don’t know any of the restaurants around here.”

“I’ll be sure to make a list then. I’m paying though.”

“What? That’s hardly fair.”

“Shh, eat your food.”

You rolled your eyes and grumbled something under your breath, but you knew he meant well based on the lightheartedness of his voice. So, you complied.

Meanwhile, Leon was mentally brainstorming places he thinks you would like in the area — somewhere pretty, he wanted you to have a good time.

After you had finished, Leon let out a sigh and pulled something out of his pocket. A flip phone. He gave it to you. He wordlessly handed it to you.

Woah. What?

You cast him a curious glance before reaching out for it. “Uh, what’s this?” You knew what it was, but why?

“Well, your phone broke.” He placed a hand on your shoulder. “I saved my number on it already, so just give me a call if you ever need anything.”

Could a man be more perfect? A flip phone was simple, easy to call and all. He knew that you’d likely get an actual smartphone in a couple of days, but he was worried. He just wanted you to be able to contact him whenever and wherever.

You laughed a little, taking a minute to toy around with the buttons on the flip phone. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing.”

“How much did it cost?”

“Not much, they’re pretty cheap these days.”

With the topic of technology brought up, you had the chance to ask something you had been mulling over. “So, how come I’ve never seen you on the news before? You’re like a knight or something.”

Leon was mildly amused by the sudden inquiry, humming softly to himself as he stirred up a response.

“Well, I’m not too sure people would believe a headline about half of the things I deal with. It’s pretty much kept undercover.” There was a lot more to it than that, but he kept it simple. “Plus, I’m just doing my job — it’s no biggie.”

“Bummer,” you sighed out, “you’d have tons of fans.” It wasn’t even a stretch. A man as attractive and heroic as him? With the size of his biceps? He’d be trending every other week, and some portion of the population would definitely have posters of him. A bit unfitting considering the contents of his job, but not unlikely.

“Would I? Why’s that?” The concept was foreign to him. Sure, he’d gotten compliments on his looks, but that was about it…nobody actively tried to pursue him. And the couple of times he had tried to ask someone on a dinner date, he got a no. He wasn’t insecure about it, though — the only people he had tried to ask out were people in his line of work, all the baggage made relationships and dating tricky.

His question caught you off guard, you knew the answer but you couldn’t say it out loud. “Well…” you trailed off, meeting his gaze before immediately darting your eyes away. “You know, just…”

“No, I don’t think I do.” His voice was one of humor, spoken through a chuckle — he wanted to know.

You let out a long exhale before recomposing yourself. “You look like you could be the heartthrob of the decade. And your personality isn’t half bad either.”

He was quiet for a moment. Now it was his turn to look away, attention now on his hands as he pretended to pick at some of the calluses. Eventually, he voiced his next question. “Would you be one of my fans?”

You snorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh yeah. With pom poms and all, maybe I’d even come up with a cheer or something.”

His lips tugged into a small smirk at that, one that was barely visible — he really liked you. “I’d be sure to take a picture to make it last longer.”

“You wish.”

“A guy can dream.”

The government could have very well sent you on your way out into the world when you essentially had absolutely nothing. But, you had some close ones back in your hometown, so, if you just suddenly vanished and your family panicked when they thought you were returning from a vacation…then that would make some things more difficult. The mystery of how you ended up in DC without any of your belongings would be concerning.

Plus, they looked into your file backgrounds. Intelligent, you had the brains, and now the knowledge of bioweapons. Surely, there’d be good use in keeping you around. Possible training to become a field operations support was in your future. They could kill two birds with one stone: gain another worker, and keep you close to the headquarters just in case you tried to expose what you had seen.

It was easy for them to do through blackmail and threats to hurt your loved ones if you didn’t comply with their orders of living in DC. They made you record some bullshit lie to your family as to why you were here.

They printed out all your personal documents that you had lost so you could get a job nearby and get back on your feet, helped get your credit card replaced, and that was it. Any physical cash you had was gone, but at the very least you did have enough money in your bank account to crash at a motel while you sorted things out.

Bastards, really. Yeah, at least you had necessities now, but it was purely for their own benefit.

The prices for even renting a place in DC were just… jaw-dropping. You’d have to search for a small place, and honestly, a car was the last thing on your mind. Having a roof over your head was the most important part. The good news is that with your resume and educational background, you bagged a job fairly soon — though it was nothing compared to the job you were supposed to have.

It had been months since the whole fiasco. You managed to find a small apartment, nothing fancy of course. That was for the better, having a spacious place all to yourself would drive you to the brink of insanity.

You were still very jittery: jumping whenever there was a knock on your door even when you were anticipating a delivery, needing the television on just for the sake of not being left in silence with your thoughts, and sleeping with all the lights on even if your electricity bill suffered as a result.

You thought you would be able to muster up the courage to go to therapy, but would that even be possible? It’s not like you could truthfully talk about your experiences. Even if you did, there’s no way anyone would believe you. And again, it was too much money.

By now, you had gotten a smartphone. But you never discarded the flip phone that Leon had gifted you. You used it to give him a call on a couple of occasions, but you never kept him for over five minutes, not wanting to disturb him for too long, you knew he was busy. Sometimes he didn’t pick up, but after a couple of days, he would return the call and tell you what had kept him from doing so: another assignment, long meetings, all that jazz. Even so, those calls always left you smiling for hours afterward.

Unbeknownst to you, the man on the other side of the phone was equally as thrilled. His pearly whites were always on display whenever you called him. Whenever he got back from work, the first thing he did was check to see if he had any missed calls or voicemails. No matter how battered and sore his body was, your voice alone managed to make him feel all better.

The days blended in together, and oftentimes you found yourself asking what or who was your motivation to keep up with this routine. The only answer that immediately came to mind aside from your loved ones was him. Leon.

Washing the dishes? Hm, you wonder what kind of food Leon eats. Watching TV? Leon mentioned he liked watching movies when he had free time. Struggling with opening a stubborn jar? Leon could definitely open this. Typing a text message? Would Leon use emojis? Abbreviations? Maybe he was one of those people who texted slow as hell and only used their index finger for each individual letter. You should know by now, but the two of you only ever called, and never texted.

The point is, he was flooding your thoughts.

In your mind, you justified it by thinking the only reason you wanted him in your life was to repay him for all the help he had been. But, that was far from the truth. Not when the memory of him flashing you a smile was enough to make your heart do tiny flips or the way his voice was so deeply engraved in your brain that you longed to hear it all the time. And the way you started spending more time on your appearance, just in case you happened to bump into him somewhere — slim chances, but you’d take them.

And naturally, you knew you would feel safe and content with him keeping you company. What you would give to roll your eyes and scoff at one of his puns or lame movie references, or to maybe catch the glimmer of endearment in his gaze whenever it shifted to you.

Would you ever be able to love a man who didn’t understand what you had gone through to a degree?

The sensation of your smartphone suddenly vibrating in your pocket made you flinch and snap out of your thoughts — a frown tugging on your lips as you scrambled to pull it out and answer.

Oh boy, your time at the headquarters wasn't short-lived. And that job of yours? You’d have to resign soon. Seems like the plan to train you to become a field operations support was coming up. Your presence had been requested at a work gathering, collaboration and teamwork skills were essential. So with this event, trainees and recruits could converse with those who were more experienced, to break the ice a little bit. So you convinced yourself you had to go.

Here you were a week later — sitting inside a fancy looking room, moving your now empty cup around. You had been here for thirty minutes and you weren’t sure how much more small talk you could handle. If you were asked the question, ‘So, how’d you land this position?’ one more time, you’d feel physically ill.

Getting ready for the gathering had driven you insane, you took an entire two hours to get ready, mostly because you kept pacing in front of your closet, indecisive about what to wear. Assuming Leon was going to be there, this would be his first time seeing you in actual clothing that aligned with your fashion style, enough said.

You stood up, ready to go outside for a couple of minutes to get some fresh air from this otherwise suffocating environment. But as you looked towards the door, a certain man caught your attention.

There he was. Leon Kennedy in all his glory. When was the last time you saw him in person? A few months. So, why did it feel like you were seeing him for the first time again? You were blown away by his beauty.

He was talking to a taller man who was pretty hunky and had the body of an agent. You assumed they were good buds, seeing the way they patted each other and seemed to be having an interesting conversation rather than a forced one.

You had no idea how long you stood there, but it felt like only a couple of seconds since you were busy admiring him. Maybe he felt your eyes on him, because he eventually looked over directly at you and then dismissed himself from his friend.

Leon almost looked like a puppy as he made his way over to you, his eye-lit gaze set on you despite the plethora of other people he knew in the room. With a couple excuse me’s, he finally reached you.

You had a lot of time to think of a way to greet him, and yet your mind turned to mush the second he was near you. A simple hi, hey, what’s up? No, that wouldn’t suffice. It would feel forced.

“No offense, but this doesn’t strike me as your kind of scene.” You eventually told him, a sly smile forming on your face.

He placed a hand over his chest and scoffed, pretending to be offended. “Like a dagger to my heart.” After a shared chuckle between the two of you, he gave you a genuine answer. “It’s nice sometimes, gives me a chance to catch up with some people and nurse a drink. But generally? No, not really my scene.”

Before you could say anything in response, he gestured towards you with his hand. “You look stunning.”

“I’d hope so. Though, I think anything is a step up from what I was wearing when you met me.”

“Oh c’mon. You pulled off the look.”

How? He had witnessed you wearing dirty and muddy clothes with scrapes all over. You had definitely not been in the most presentable state. Though to be fair, he had been in the same boat — he did all the combat, so he ended up with ruined clothes and blood all over. Then again, his pretty face and killer body blinded you from those details.

“Well, what can I say? Guess I’m just that charming,” You tried to come across as confident, but the giddy grin on your face in response to his compliment gave away just how much his words affected you.

Cute. Did he make you happy? Years of unsuccessful romance led him to believe that it’s not a big deal, it’s just a natural response to being complimented. But…there was a hopeful voice in his head that said otherwise. No no no, he was being silly. He saved you, he shouldn’t even be thinking about asking you to dinner. Shouldn’t be thinking about how you’d look sitting across the table from him, with a glass of champagne in your hand and that perfect smile plastered on your face from the conversation at hand. He wanted to know you. And he knew he was a goner when he woke up one morning upset because he felt like something was missing — you in his arms, curled up against him.

“So, you’re a trainee now?” Leon knew you were going to be here, it was the reason he had unconsciously put more effort into his appearance.

“Yeah, it’s surreal to think about…it sounds stressful.”

“I’m sorry you got dragged into all this.”

“It’s not your fault. Things could be worse, I’m just glad I’m back on my feet.”

“You’re pretty optimistic.”

“Mhm. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to talk to you over your earpiece one day.”

Leon almost froze at that. The thought was appealing. Maybe he should feel selfish for thinking of this in a positive manner when the government had been responsible for the switch up in your life. Even so, he knew that his spirit would be boosted if he heard your voice giving him intel and instructions. Plus, how come you didn’t seem so upset over that?

“In that case, I’m looking forward to that.”

“Yeah? I’m surprised you haven’t gotten sick of my voice after all those voicemails I’ve left you.”

Ah, the same ones he replayed over and over when he couldn’t sleep. The same ones that managed to keep his post-mission loneliness at bay. The same ones that prevented him from getting a bottle of beer from his fridge and spiraling.

“I could never.” The nearly whispered answer gave away just how sincere he was. Not a quip, not even a tug of his lips.

It made your breath hitch, those three words made you melt like an ice cream left out on a hot summer day. How was it that everything blurred out except for him? The nearby chit-chatter, the blur of people moving around in the background, the clinking of plates and glasses — nothing mattered, nothing took your attention from him.

“You sound pretty confident in your answer.”

“I am.”

“How come?”

Would it scare you if he chose to be sincere? “It’s just nice hearing your voice, y’know, I don’t get many phone calls.”

No, he had to give you more, that sounded too casual. “And uh, they help me…make me feel like I’m not completely alone or lost in this world.”

“I’ll be sure to keep calling you, then.” You were being honest.

He became aware of the semi awkward conversation he had caused, Leon cleared his throat and gestured to the table with drinks. “Shall we?”

Mostly everyone had left after two hours, the only vehicle left in the parking lot was Leon’s bike. You got here through public transportation, you really had to get a car eventually. But, it was hard with your financial situation.

You let out a low whistle when you caught sight of his bike, it suited him, honestly. He took good care of it. “Sweet ride.”

It was his pride and joy, one of his only belongings that gave him a thrill and an escape. And he really wouldn’t mind letting you into that part of his life.

“Yeah, she’s a beauty.” He could give you a ride if you were willing. He kept two helmets anyway, an older one just for nostalgia, and then a newer one. “Ever ridden one?”

“No way,” you laugh, you’re intrigued though. You meet his gaze and see that he’s smiling — and you manage to piece together what he’s offering. “No way.” You repeat incredulously as if asking: Seriously!? You’d let me?

“Way.”

He walked over to his bike and patted one of the helmets. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. Promise.”

“What if I fall off?”

“I won’t let you fall off.”

Oh, what the hell? After all Leon has done for you, you trusted him with your life. You approached him, catching onto the subtle flame in his eyes. “Fine, I’m up for it.”

He knew the nearby layout of the area pretty well, so when you told him your address, he knew what route to take.

“Hold still.” Lifting the helmet, he made sure to put it snugly onto you, buckling the chin strap so it wouldn’t fly off or be loose. It made you feel some kind of way. He was so close. If you didn’t have the helmet as a barrier, you’d be tempted to kiss him.

He took a step back to look at you, unable to resist from mumbling out a small ‘cute’ under his breath. Somehow, you hadn’t heard.

“Comfortable?” He asked. You nodded. Why did his voice sound raspy all of a sudden? Leon then worked on putting a helmet on himself. Your throat felt dry as you idly stood by and watched, he always looked good…but the sight of him with a helmet on was something you could get used to. With his handsome face now hidden, your attention was drawn more to his body, you tried to not stare at the way his shirt fit tightly against his muscles. Then you realized your eyes weren’t all that visible due to the helmet and dark night. So…you stared.

He taught you how to mount and dismount the bike, he prefers to get on first and for passengers to get on afterward, and for you to dismount the bike before he did. Naturally, he also went over some of the rules for passengers, when to lean, to be cautious of stops, etc. He just wanted both of you to be on the same page. With some trial, error, and a couple of laughs over it, you eventually managed to get the hang of it. So here you were now, all ready to go.

“Hold on tight, I wouldn't want you to fall off or anything.” By now, he knows you’re used to his joking.

“Thanks.” You deadpanned, though you couldn’t help the sliver of amusement that slipped into your voice. “Very reassuring, Kennedy.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, you could feel all the muscle he had gained throughout his years of nonstop physical activity.

Leon was smiling underneath his helmet, feeling your body warmth against him. He never really thought he’d be able to have someone else on his motorcycle, especially not someone he had grown to adore so much. The feeling of your arms around him put his heart at ease. “Okay, here goes. Remember, if anything happens just tap me twice.”

At first, it was pretty steady — merely navigating out of the parking space and into the streets, stopping at some red lights, getting a kick out of the way Leon purposely revved the engine for you to hear, and the way you could feel the rise and fall of his muscles as he breathed. It was a soothing pattern, one you’d like to feel more often, perhaps with your head resting comfortably against his stomach.

Entering the ramp to the freeway was an entirely different experience, the breeze suddenly increased tenfold as Leon sped up now that the speed limit was higher.

It felt exhilarating — a stark contrast to how you had felt when you were cooped up all alone in your apartment with nothing but silence. The loud engine of the bike roaring through the freeway drowned out any doubts or worries before they even had the chance to surface to your consciousness. It was so fast that the lights of the cars almost turned into a blur, but the nighttime made it seem so pretty. It felt good.

Honestly, it felt like you were there for hours when that was far from the true reality of a short five minute ride, your heartbeat slowed back down along with the speed of the bike as Leon cautiously drove in the lonely and dimly lit streets of your neighborhood, relying on your input to reach the specific building that had your apartment in it.

Once he finally parked, you got the chance to exhale properly — having been so caught up in the pretty night scenery and the fact you had just gotten a ride from none other than Leon S. Kennedy. You were reluctant to unwrap yourself from him but did so anyway. “Woah,” was all you could say.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“Much better than the bus I take, that’s for sure. Life changing.”

With the short lessons you had gone over, you managed to dismount his bike, maybe checking him out a little as he then followed to do the same. He took his gloves off before making his way to you and working on taking your helmet off. The entirety of the situation felt oddly intimate, like a daily interaction a couple would partake in.

“You have a lot of trust in me,” he muttered that comment under his breath as if it was meant for the breeze to sweep away like a leaf. But you heard it anyway.

“That’s pretty funny coming from the guy who quite literally saved my life.”

He merely chuckled, now taking off his helmet. Leon didn’t want to delve into that topic. In his mind, he didn’t necessarily ‘save’ you, he didn’t want to take credit for your own mental and physical strength. The way you were so happy despite everything that had occurred…he admired you for it. He didn’t want you to spiral into the same loneliness and self-guilt that he had, he swore he wouldn’t let you. God, how he wishes he had met you sooner. Late was better than never, though.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you to your door.” Dork. He didn’t even know which door was yours. It was sweet though, you led the way inside and up an elevator to your floor. Leon committed the way to memory, just in case he ever swung by in the future. He took a look around, making sure everything looked clean and safe, just a habit of his after his years in the force. It looked pretty cozy though, the halls were illuminated well, and everything was in great condition. Some of his worries were eased.

“Thanks for the ride, I had a lot of fun.” Honestly, you had a lot of things you could thank him for, but that would take you more than just a couple of minutes and you didn’t want to keep him since you knew he had to get home too. Internally, you hoped maybe the two of you could meet up — you liked being in his presence.

He brushed it off with a brief wave of his hand, “No worries.” He didn’t feel like you needed to thank him for anything. He felt a pit in his stomach as he watched you open up your door. It was too soon. He didn’t even hide the fact he was staring at you, you turned around back around to face him, ready to say bye, and awkwardly get inside.

This was his cue to leave. In any other situation, he’d say, ‘I’ll see ya around’. But he hesitated.

You felt like you were burning up under his pensive gaze, wanting to know what thoughts were occupying that mind of his. Whatever it was, he clearly had something to say. You felt your hopes lift. “Leon?”

The fact is, he had something to ask you. Some higher entity had listened to his pleas and he had gotten a week off, his godsent vacation was finally here.

Like he had mentioned to you once, he wasn’t a huge fan of planes. Vacation or not, he tried to avoid them, there was nothing more reliable than his gorgeous motorcycle. But, he made an exception, and maybe he’d feel more at ease with you on the plane with him. Truth be told, if you said no to his offer, he wouldn’t even go on a vacation abroad, he’d probably just stay at his place.

He was feeling a tad bit doubtful. He knew that your life had been flipped since you had gone abroad for a vacation, so maybe you’d say no. Regardless, he had to ask now. He could be given another assignment at a moment’s notice despite being granted a break, and your training was going to start in a while. He couldn’t afford to not make his feelings known, not with the kind of life he led.

“Hey, listen.” Leon broke the silence that he caused — taking a deep inhale before he continued to voice his thoughts. “I’ve been due for a vacation for a while, and I finally got some time off. I’m planning on taking a short trip.”

“Ah,” you remember a similar conversation, how could you not? You practically memorized every bit of information he told you. You closed your door and leaned against it, not wanting to seem like you were in some hurry to get in. “Italy, right?”

“Yeah.” He confirmed, smiling over the fact that you remembered that detail. “So, here’s the thing. I bought two flight tickets and booked a room for two. If you’re not busy or anything and if it’s not crazy for you to consider then—“

“Yes,” you responded immediately, like it was pure instinct, the word slipped through your mouth before your mind even had time to process it. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline you still felt from the ride.

He grinned, letting out a huff of amusement. “I didn’t even finish—“

He cut himself off when he felt you cup his face with your hands, you could feel the heat radiating off his skin — like warm and cozy laundry straight out of the drying machine. His Adams apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed thickly, feeling the tension rise when your lips inched towards his.

You were taking the opportunity, afraid it would slip from your fingers like sand if you hesitated for even a second.

“Yes,” you repeated, your voice dropping to a whisper as your eyes searched his. After a few seconds of keeping his arms by his side, he lifted his hands to place them on your hips, coaxing you closer to him.

Leon felt weak to the knees, crumbling at the eye contact before his eyes flitted towards your lips longingly. Closer. He could feel your lips brushing against his, not a kiss just yet, but the contact was there and served as a complete tease.

“Okay,” he murmured out, warm breath fanning against your lips. He tried to keep his voice stable, but the close proximity was killing him. His hands gave your hips a gentle squeeze. “Consider a first-class window seat all yours then.”

“With gourmet meals and all?”

“Mhm,” he couldn’t think—he parted his lips in anticipation for yours. His gaze returned to your eyes, his own were half-lidded, looking like they might shut at any minute in preparation for the kiss.

“I thought you didn’t like being in planes?”

“I don’t,” he replied briefly, this felt like torture. His voice was low and rugged, eyes now closing and head tilting to the side slightly. “But with you by my side, it wouldn’t matter.”

God, he was perfect. You pressed your lips against his and he responded immediately, one of his hands snaked up to gently hold the back of your head and keep you in place. He felt an influx of dopamine hit him right away, losing himself in your suave kiss — he was hooked on your taste, it felt like a drug. Like he’d go through withdrawals if he ever had to go without this sensation again.

One of your hands slid to the back of his neck, your fingers curling around the ends of his hair. It was soft, feeling like silk. Your nails brushed against his skin on the nape of his neck and he shuddered, feeling the remaining air in his lungs vanish. He could keep going though, he’d drown in your kisses and suffocate by the sweet taste and press of your lips without a single complaint.

If love was possible just by a single kiss, then Leon had just gotten struck by an arrow. It continued, kiss after kiss. It felt right. The final piece to a puzzle — the perfect fit.

Not having a death wish, you eventually pulled back for breath. His lips chased yours, drawn to them like a moth to a flame, only pausing when he heard your soft laughter, one that made his heart leap and his eyes open to meet your own. He pressed his forehead against yours, a smile ghosting his lips as he took the moment in. “We’re uh, pretty good at that.”

“Mm, I dunno.” You shrugged out, running your thumb against his bottom lip. “I think we could use some more practice, don’t you?”

It was a clear ploy to continue on with the kissing. He took the bait with a chuckle. “Hey, I’m game. Just do a countdown and I’m ready whenever.”

“Someone’s eager, here goes. One, two, three…”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x gn!reader #leon kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil x reader #resident evil one shot #re4 x reader

[writingsbychlo]

SWEET LIKE SUGAR | 01

summary; azriel is lonely, and goes to the pleasure house. he doesn't get very far before his world is flipped upside down, and he's not the only one.

word count; 7646

notes; working title. working fic. everything is just a work-in-progress. not sure how I feel about posting this, so if we all hate it, lets not tell me, okay? because I love it. I just didn't know if I wanted to share it.

You stared up at the building before you, nervously tugging at the hem of your dress. Your lungs would barely open to take a breath, every pounding note of the music from inside reverberating out across the pavement seems to shake you to your bones, and your heart was racing so fast it might tear right out. 

The smell of alcohol spilt out across the street, and the sweet tang of mirthroot smoke sat heavy in the air. It was cloying, probably even thicker inside. A voice cleared, impatient and deep, and you jolted out of your thoughts. 

“You’re blockin’ the fuckin’ door.” He growled, words already a little slurred, and your cheeks heated as his gaze leered across your body, a smirk forming on his lips. “‘Less you’re goin’ inside? If that’s the case, let me escort you.”

“No, no. I’m— you go ahead, please.” Your words could barely be choked out, the male rolling his eyes at you before swinging the door open and stepping inside, the music loud enough for a split second to shock you once again. Stumbling back a couple of steps, your body slammed into someone else, a squeak leaving your lips, and your eyes began to sting at the overwhelm of emotions now. “I’m so sorry, I’m in the way, I’ll just—”

“Are you alright?”

A pathetic laugh left you at the question, beyond your control as the wet sound of your inevitable tears leaked into it, despite your best effort to keep them at bay. “No. Nothing is okay, not even a little bit. Everything sucks, actually. Everything is shit, and I’m scared, and I hate it. No, I’m not alright.”

With a heaving breath, one that seemed to shake through every cell in your body, you hauled a watery gaze up to the owner of the deep voice and ridiculous question. And up, and up. Good God’s, he was tall, even in your stupid heels. He had a sharp jawline, lips pursed in a flat line, a straight nose, and thick brows raised in silent question. Or judgement, you really weren’t sure. No matter what, he was one of the most attractive men you’d ever seen, though. What he was doing here, you had no idea.

“I’m sorry. You should— you’re going inside, right? You should go inside, don’t let the sobbing girl in the street ruin a very fun night for you.” Stepping to the side, and raising your arm to wave at the club, he didn’t budge, and your gaze tracked back to his. 

“You’re not going inside?” His sights dropped, scanning along the material that could barely be called a dress, that you’d had to buy from a lingerie store just to be appropriate, and you still felt exposed. Warmth rushed to your cheeks once again, that lump returning to your throat, and you shook your head. 

“No. No, I don’t think I can.”

“You don’t work here?” His tone wasn’t so flat now, a slight tip of curiosity, and you shrugged. 

“I was… hoping to. I was trying to work here, but I’m not sure I can make myself do it.” Your lip wobbled. “Not that there’s, y’know, anything wrong with it. Gods, I respect those who do it and I wish I had their confidence, everything would be a lot easier for me if I could, but it’s just not who I am.”

“So, if you don’t want to work at the pleasure house, why are you here?”

“Why are you here?” You shot back, and his stare pinned you. Observant, invasive, intense. It was enough to make you crack after only a second. “Why does anyone do a job?”

“Money?”

“Correct.” Blowing out a breath, you crossed your arms, the adrenaline wearing off as your decision was made, back turned to a club you wouldn't enter. The cold was beginning to leak into you, to take hold. “But, I guess I’ll just figure something else out.”

He watched you for a second longer, before slipping off the leather jacket he was wearing, over proud wings that were tucked tight into the darkness behind him. Swinging it around your body to settle over your shoulders, your first thought was that it was heavy, and large, but warmth soon followed, like a blanket by the fire on a cold winter’s night. 

“Thank you.”

“Would you like me to walk you home?” His hands stuck into his pants pockets instead, black skinny jeans that clung so tightly to his thighs it should be a crime, and you had to force your gaze away. 

“You, uh, you’re not going in?”

“I’m getting everything I need right here.” Panic shot through you, your whole body tightening for just a second, and his eyes widened, those lips finally parting in shock and he shook his head. “That’s not— I’m not implying anything is happening here. You don’t owe me anything, fuck, okay—” He took a deep breath, head tipping back to stare at the sky for a second, and his shoulders slumped. “I don’t know if I can go in, either.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. So, I’d really rather walk you home, if you’ll let me, than stand out here in the cold for another hour debating my choices.”

Your lips flicked up at that, the first real smile you’d had in weeks threatening to spill over. What happened to your tears? “You’ve been out here even longer than I have.”

“I know. I saw you arrive.” A smile pulled at his lips too. With a single glance down the street, the not-so-good part of town you’d ended up in, and caved. 

“You promise not to, like, murder me, or something?”

A laugh burst from him, sudden and rough, like he wasn’t used to making such a sound, but something in his eyes flickered. 

“It’s not funny! Weren’t you ever taught about stranger-danger as a child?”

“No, we weren’t really taught that in the camps. They skipped right over trust, to how to stab someone in the back.” Your throat dried up for a second, before seeing the smirk still sitting on his lips, and you scoffed, a curse muttered under your breath that only made him chuckle more. “Alright, fine. I’m Azriel, and I promise not to murder you.”

A sharp sting on the back of your neck made you gasp, your hand flying to it, and your eyes widened. The burning sensation lasted only for a second, before fading to nothing but a tingle. “What the fuck was that, what did you do?”

“You made me promise!”

“And?” You pressed, fingers tracing the spot. They came away clean when you examined them, and while the skin was smooth to the touch, you could feel whatever had happened. 

“You’re not from the Night Court, are you?” Amusement and curiosity wrapped his voice, and you shook your head lightly. “That would be your promise mark. Making a promise brands you, here.”

“What?” He tugged down the collar of his shirt, and even in the darkness, you could see slashes of dark ink across his collarbone, swirls and shapes. Your hand came up, before you could stop yourself, rocking onto your tiptoes to get a closer look, and tracing one finger across a whorl softly. “You’ve made a lot of promises.”

The clean, earthly smell of him filled your nose, and you backed away from him, letting him slip his shirt back into place as he watched you closely. 

“Your hands. Are they promise brands too?” Those same hands formed fists by his sides, arms twitching to tuck behind his back and hide, and you could see the effort it took for him to straighten them out in the space between you instead. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn't have— that was so insensitive of me. I’m sorry, Azriel.”

“They were a promise of a kind, but not the marks the magic of this court gives you. These were promises from my step-brothers when I was a child, promises that worse would come. Worse could come.” 

Silence settled between you for a moment, his sights fixed on his own marred flesh now as he turned his hands slowly, over and over before himself. Cupping his hands softly, your palms met his, thumbs smoothing across the rough skin. “I hope you gave them some promises of your own.”

“I did.” His voice was something darker, something sharper, as if daring you to be scared by it. By him. Your hands only squeezed a little tighter around his own. 

“Good.” The moment lasted a little longer, his hands flexing briefly around your own, before he was pulling them back. “Do you still want to walk me home?”

“I do.”

“Well, I think I’d like that.” He only smiled again, offering you his arm, and you freed one hand from underneath the layers of leather to loop your own through. 

Ambling down the sidewalk, you got as close to his side as possible, stealing both his heat and his protection as drunken fae stumbled past you on all sides, the streets filled with broken glass and litter. It was the worst part of the city, every Court had such places but you’d never thought you’d wind up living in such a place. 

With Azriel by your side, even for the short walk it was, people seemed to steer far away from the tall, powerful man who was keeping you company. You’d received countless leers and stares since leaving the house in this outfit, but now, they didn’t even dare to look at you. The safety was something you’d never felt before, and you’d miss it when you were alone again in your apartment tonight, behind a door that didn’t lock and had a chunk missing from the bottom. 

Slowing down on the pavement before the place you currently called a very begrudging ‘home’, you avoided a pile of vomit on the street, cringing a little internally and hoping Azriel hadn't noticed it. You weren’t sure why you were so bothered by his opinion, but you were.

“Well, this is it.” 

Azriel paused, glancing up at the decrepit building you’d come to a stop before. The windows were boarded up along the bottom floor, graffiti lined the walls, and there were stains on the bricks you’d never bothered to question. Azriel took it all in, and shame flooded your body. The coat wrapped around your shoulders was probably worth more than several months of your rent here.

“Thank you for walking me home.”

“You can’t be serious.” He continued to stare, up and up at the several layers, to the open window with shouting pouring out from one of the upper windows. “You can’t live here. We haven’t even left—” The bad part of town.

He cut himself off, but the words still sounded out between you both. Slipping his coat from your shoulders, you held it out, but he didn’t take it. He didn’t even look at it, still staring up in disgust at the apartment building. “Gods, this place makes Nesta’s last apartment look like the Townhouse.”

“What?”

His focus moved back to you, like he hadn't realised he’d even said that out loud, before shaking his head. “Would you like to have a coffee with me?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” The offer shocked you, but sparked a little warmth, like despite every shameful thing he’d learned about you tonight, he wasn’t disgusted by you yet. “When?”

“Now.”

“But nowhere will be—” His hands came out, holding softly to your elbows and tugging you closer, before cold shadows seemed to dart from every corner of the street, wrapping you in a black bubble. The earth seemed to fall out from under you as your vision was lost, everything was silent and cold, before you were stumbling in your terror, and the shadows moved again. “What the fuck just happened?”

The coat dropped from your hand, crumpling to a pile on the street as you stumbled backwards. Only, this wasn’t your street. 

The faelights in the lampposts didn’t flicker in their stained yellow glass, but were a clear and bright white. No cracked street tiles or shouting, nothing but peaceful moths batting at the glass, and several houses lined up, spaced far from one another along the street. It wasn’t dark or damp, broken and stained, a part of the city you’d never even seen before. Only one row of houses lined the street, so far between each house it would take you ten full minutes to walk to the next, the Sidra bubbling quietly behind you over the bridge. 

Azriel dipped down, picking his jacket up from the ground, and when he took a step closer to you, you took one back, a shaky hand coming up between you both to hold him away.

“Where are we? What the fuck just happened? Why am I here?”

He sighed, shoulders straightening a little. “It’s called… well, I don’t know what it's called, because I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who can do it. It’s like winnowing, only with my shadows. I’m a shadowsinger, I control them.” As if to emphasise his point, the darkness lingering all around you on the street swirled slowly, your breath hitching in your throat as you watched the darkness move. “You step into the shadows one one place, you step out of them in another. I brought you here for coffee, but that was just an excuse, if I’m honest. Really, I just couldn't bear the thought of leaving you in that place.”

“That place is all I can afford.” You muttered, arms crossing over your chest, a dull pound in your head as you tried to process every overwhelming piece of new information. “So, what are we doing here?”

“I live here.” He stepped up onto the pathway of one house, the gate squeaking a little as he pushed it open, and your jaw fell slack, staring up at the towering estate before you.

“Here?”

“Yes. Now, will you please come inside?” Tipping his head to the side, that smile was back, and you couldn't resist it, the pull toward him as your feet carried you in cautious steps. 

“Fine, but I don’t actually want coffee. I hope you have tea.”

“I have plenty of tea. So many flavours that you won’t know what to pick.” His grin only widened as you stepped through the gate, letting him close it behind you, and following you up towards the grand house as you put every effort into not making a fool of yourself in these ridiculous heels. As you reached the porch, he swerved around you, producing a set of keys from his pockets and unlocking the door, holding that out for you too. “Welcome to the Bridge House.”

“That’s a pretentious name. All of these houses are on the river, and none of them are on the bridge.” You muttered, his chuckle following you inside as fae lights came on automatically, lighting along the long hallway, giving a muted glow to the space. He shut the door, and you spun to face him, watching as he clicked all of the locks securely back into place. 

“I know, but Rhys likes to name all of his houses, and he wouldn't let me change it even when I bought it.”

“Rhys?” You echoed, deciding to skip right over the display of wealth you couldn't even begin to handle, and copy his actions, toeing off the shoes that had been torturing your feet for hours now, and giving a soft sigh when your feet flattened on the floor. 

“My brother. Not biologically, but, it’s what he, Cassian and I like to call ourselves.” 

With a warm hand on your lower back, he softly began to guide you through the house and into the kitchen, but the names lingered in your mind. “Cassian… Rhys— oh, fuck, as in Rhysand? The fucking High Lord?”

Azriel only smirked at your outburst, stepping away from the island counter in the middle towards the kettle sitting neatly on the stove. “So, their names you recognise, but mine you don’t? I’m almost offended.”

“Well, isn’t that supposed to be the point, spymaster?” You growled the word out, knees feeling a little weak underneath yourself, and you braced your hip against the counter. “Oh, Gods, this is so inappropriate. I can’t be here! You’re a part of the Royal Court, you’re—”

“I’m just Azriel, to you.” His voice had gone soft once again, pulling two mismatching mugs from the cupboard, and watching you cautiously. 

“I’m wearing lingerie!” You burst, voice too high and shrill to even be remotely calm, and he clicked his tongue. 

“I'm aware. You look cold and uncomfortable. Would you like something to change into?”

“Would I…” It was surreal. It was a dream. None of this could possibly be true. “I can’t be here!”

“Why?”

“Because… because you’re Azriel, the spymaster! You literally call the High Lord brother, and I am a pleasure house worker who can barely afford rent in the shittiest part of town, I came to your house in a pair of stupid heels that I had to tape the sole back onto, in a dress that barely even qualifies as underwear! Your jacket could probably have bought my whole apartment outright, and—” Azriel crossed the room before you could even process it, hands sitting on your waist to scoop you up and deposit you onto the counter just before your legs could give out fully. He planted his hands on the outside of each of your thighs, planted himself between them, and his nose practically brushed your own. “What are you doing?”

“Take a breath. You’re panicking. You’re going to give yourself a panic attack.”

“I think we’re way past that.” You whispered, but did as told, trying to take a shaky breath to match the one he took. You did it again, and again, each breath calming you a little more, but it didn’t help the chaos in your mind, just helped to slow your heart a little. “Azriel, c’mon, you and I both know it. I should go, and we should just hope none of your neighbours saw, because it’ll ruin your reputation.”

“My reputation is destroyed anyway. If anything, you’ll be wanting to hope nobody saw you with me, once you learn about me.” You rolled your eyes, head tipping forward to lean on his shoulder, and he slipped one hand up to rub softly along your back. You could feel everything, the sexy dip of the dress barely covered your ass now, and more embarrassment flooded through you. “Besides, you’re here now. You might as well stay for that tea. It’s not like anyone can see you in here, you’re not on a timer.”

“Okay. Just one cup.”

“Just one cup.” He confirmed, lingering for a second longer before pulling away. Disentangling himself, he filled up the kettle from the tap, setting it off on the hob. “What flavour tea would you like?”

“What’ve you got?”

Hopping down from the counter as he beckoned you closer, it was only when you were by his side that he opened a double-standing cabinet, both of the doors slowly opening on a hinge, silent as ever, to reveal the jars of loose tea within. Each one was lined up meticulously, labelled with the flavour of tea and the benefits underneath, your jaw dropping. “Told you I had plenty.”

“You could run a tea shop with this stash!” Your elbow flew out, nudging into his ribs to dim his laughter. “I have no idea where to even start. Why don’t you pick?”

“Alright.” Instead of getting one out, though, he closed the cupboard doors, backing you away from it slowly. “It’ll be a surprise, but how about we get you that change of clothes first, huh?”

You glanced down at yourself, giving into the urge to finally feel settled in your own body again, chin dipping in a single nod. His hand slipped into your own, warm and sure, before he was tugging you along behind him, and guiding you through the house. Up two sets of stairs, past far too many different rooms to count, before stopping at the doorway to the grand bedroom. It had double doors, for fuck’s sake. The one bedroom itself, as you entered, was bigger than your entire apartment had been. 

Clean, simply decorated and organised, and extremely homely, a sigh left you as you took it all in. “This is your bedroom?”

“Well, I am the only one who lives here.” He teased, dropping your hand and leaving you to observe in the centre of the room, as he made his way over to one of the wardrobes. 

“Really? I couldn't tell, what with this place being the same size as my entire apartment building.” He laughed, and you hardly had time to turn and see the smile that would be accompanying it, before soft material was smacking you in the face, and falling to the floor. You looked down, agape, to see a soft blue t-shirt sitting in a pile at your feet. “Did you just throw that at me?”

“That’s what you get for sassing me.”

He opened another drawer as you crouched to pick it up, shaking it out to hold the material in front of yourself. When it was lowered, he threw something else, another bundle you were just quick enough to catch this time, but it didn’t stop you from scowling in his direction. This time, it was sweatpants, thicker and black in colour.

“I’ll give you a chance to get changed, and I’ll be back.” 

He was gone, the door shutting gently behind him, and he was absolutely silent as he walked away, leaving you alone in his bedroom. It was an odd feeling, to say the least. To be trusted so deeply with someone’s things, when they had no reason to be, and Azriel didn’t read to you as the easily trusting type. 

Then again, neither were you, and you were somehow still confident that this wasn’t all going to end with your untimely death. Your toes sank into the plush carpets, sore patches on the backs and sides of your feet already threatening to be blistered by the morning, and this dress had been irritating your skin since the moment you’d put it on. Cheap material, but the best you could afford.

Slipping open the ties across the front one at a time, the dress came loose, enough for you to slip your arms out of the tight sleeves, and begin to shimmy it down your body, feeling less than elegant as you worked your way out of it. Perhaps it was a good thing you hadn't gone in, you certainly weren’t cut out for this kind of work. How anybody could make peeling themselves out of that sexy was beyond you.

Azriel’s shirt was built to accommodate his large frame, with panels in the back that buttoned up for his wings, but even once it was on, with those few slits down the back, they revealed nothing compared to the dress on the floor at your feet. You didn’t feel so exposed any more, so vulnerable, and as you slipped the sweatpants up your legs to tighten at the waist, you finally felt more like yourself again. 

A sigh slipped past your lips, hands smoothing down along your covered body, warm and comfy once again. You hadn't felt this settled in a long time, and already, Azriel’s house was feeling more like home than your shitty apartment ever had, and ever would. Scooping up your dress and folding it neatly into a flat square, you laid it atop one of the dressers, beside a half-burned candle and a book. 

You were sniffling the candle when there was a knock at the door the knob twisting slowly. 

“Can I come in? Are you, y’know, dressed?”

“I’m dressed, you can come in.” He nudged the door open, a tray in his hands, stacked up with pottery and plates, and you placed the candle back down to help. He didn’t need it, though, resting the tray down on the small trunk at the end of his bed, and straightening up. As he turned to you, his gaze found you again, running far more slowly along your body than he had out in the street, and the smile you were becoming fond of formed on his lips again. 

“Feel better?”

“So much better.” 

He patted the silky quilt on the end of his bed. “Come sit. I made cranberry and spiced apple tea. It’s very calming, a good late-night tea.”

“Sounds delicious.” Your legs crossed as you perched atop the plush mattress, a bed larger than you’d ever seen before as you took it in, spanning your gaze across the entirety of it. When you turned back, Azriel was pouring you a mug, watching.

“It’s because of the wings.”

“What?” 

“My wings.” He flexed them out behind himself, stretching them taut to their full, glorious length, and your hands shook a little in awe as you took the mug and saucer from him. Black, leathery flesh was thinner in some places, enough to glow a softer purple and red as the light shone through, some patches had tendons and veins visibly moving under the skin, marred patches of scars in the shapes of slashes and arrow piercings. “So I can stretch them out in bed and they don’t touch the floor.”

“They’re sensitive?” You wanted to reach out, to trace one of the scars sitting right at eye level, to ask what had caused it, but he only chuckled. As he poured his own mug of tea, he pulled them back in, hanging comfortably behind his back once again.

“Very sensitive. You can bring an Illyrian male to his knees with just one touch in the right place.”

“This feels like top-secret information. Surely you shouldn’t be spilling all the ways to hurt an Illyrian male to me?” You teased, and he uncapped a jar of honey, his smirk growing as one brow raised at you. 

“Do you want to hurt me?”

“Of course not.” He added two spoonfuls to his mug and stirred, before offering it to you, a fresh spoon to follow, and you accepted the scoops he made. 

“Then why shouldn’t I tell you?” You had no answer to that, instead grinning into your tea as you stirred it, watching the ripples form as you tapped the spoon against the edge, and rested it on the saucer. Steam curled up from it, and as you raised it to your lips to blow, he hummed. It smelt so good, your mouth watered. “Besides, who said you’d be bringing me to my knees in pain?”

You jerked, gaze snapping back up to him, before a splash of the tea spilt over the edge of your mug, hitting your thigh and dripping onto the covers below, creating a small wet patch. “Azriel!”

He only laughed, your cheeks heating at his innuendo, but the flush on his face was worth it, even if he was laughing at you. 

“Now look what you made me do, there’s tea on your covers.”

“Sweetheart, seeing that reaction would have been worth it if you’d spilt a bucket of mud on my bed.” Your cheeks flushed again at the drawl of his voice over his words, even if he didn’t know he was doing it, your heart jumping in your chest.

“I still might, as revenge.” Muttering your words didn’t make him miss them, laughter starting anew, and you hoped he at least couldn't see the smile the sound gave you as you sipped your tea. You finally let your eyes move to the tray, noting the large teapot sitting in the centre, the used pot of honey and your spoons, and the small plate stacked up with shortbreads. “Would it be already if I had one of those?”

He tracked your gaze, nodding rapidly when he realised and presented the plate to you. “I don’t normally have food in my bedroom, never mind my bed, but, I didn’t know when you last ate. I didn’t want to assume, and start cooking a whole meal, but I can—”

“Azriel.” His lips pursed shut, this time it was his turn to blush, an adorable shade of pink that suited him so well crawling across golden skin. “I love these, and I was hungry. They’re perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Slipping from the bed to stand once again, you placed your mug back on the tray, and held up your saucer instead to catch crumbs as you ate the first circular treat. 

“What are you doing?” Azriel’s voice was a little rough, and you licked stray crumbs and sugar from your lips, not missing his gaze following the motion. 

“I’m eating.”

“Why did you stand up?” He flexed his fingers around his mug, watching you happily as you took another bite. 

“I didn’t want to risk getting crumbs in your bed.”

“You can,” He stepped closer, putting his drink down and settling his hands on your shoulders, a look in his eyes you didn’t quite get a chance to read before he was moving you, pushing until your legs met the bed and you sat down slowly. “You can sit. I don’t care if you get crumbs. I’ll clean it.”

He moved to take the saucer, the one you had cupped under your chin to catch any loose crumbs, and you gripped it tightly, not letting him have that too. He was making all kinds of sacrifices for you tonight, you weren’t sure why, but this was one rule you could at least respect. 

“You can sit up at the pillows, if you want. You don’t have to sit down here.”

Glancing back, the end of the bed felt miles away, and you shrugged, feeling him stack another pastry onto your plate as your attention was turned away. “Will you sit with me if I do? I mean, I know it’s your bed, but…”

“I will. Let me just change, first.”

He swiped up his pyjamas, which had been sitting neatly by the pillow on what you assumed was his side of the bed, and disappeared with a flurry of shadows into the connecting bathroom. Not all of them went, some remained, swirling on the floor, and a single tendril rose up, like a snake lifting its head.

It didn’t have eyes, a face, or any discernible features, and yet you had the distinct feeling you were being watched by it. You popped another shortbread into your mouth, whole this time, and placed the rest down, watching it just as studiously as it approached you across the floor slowly. 

It slithered up, across the bedding, and snaked over your thigh until it found your wrist. It was cool, not cold, but a soft breeze across your skin. Soothing, to say the least, and it wrapped in coils around your arm. Up and up it went, crawling under the baggy sleeve-hem of the t-shirt you’d borrowed, across the pulse point in your neck and before re-emerging from your collar and darting into the hanging strands of your hair. 

Another soon followed, this one tickling across the bare bad of your foot before snaking up your leg, toying in your fingers, weaving through the digits. Another came, curious like puppies, but this one never touched you. No, instead, it danced across the trunk before you, over the tray and swirled around your mug, again and again in whirling circles. 

“What are you doing, little one?”

You reached a finger out, brushing it across the mist. “It’s trying to tell you to drink your tea.”

“Jeez, Azriel!” You jumped, shadows skittering like butterflies back to the corners of the room as he waved a hand, and you clutched your own over your heart. “You’re so fuckin’ sneaky, what is up with you!”

“Spymaster, remember? Sneaky is kind of in the job description.” He winked, winked, and wandered right past where you sat, up to the head of the bed. He looked good, too good for someone simply intending to sleep later tonight, with a fitted black shirt stretched taut across those muscles, and a pair of matching sweatpants to the ones he’d given you, except they looked much better on him. Pulling back the covers, he patted the mattress beneath, raising his head to look at you. “Come on, and bring your tea.”

You did as told, rising and grabbing both your mug and his, moving to sit on the space he’d learned for you, amongst fluffy pillows and cushions. He tucked the blankets back around you, caring for you in a way nobody ever had before, and you had to bite at the inside of your cheek to contain it. “Thank you.”

Your whisper was hardly audible, but he smiled nonetheless, one curl from his raven black locks flopping across his forehead as he nodded, before making his way around to his side. Sinking into the bed, he sat forwards, ruffling his wings for a moment until he was satisfied, before sitting back and taking the mug you offered. 

Once one hand was free, you indulged yourself, leaning across to tuck that curl back up into his hair, his golden eyes tracking every movement. “Why are you doing this for me, Azriel?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you looking after me? Why are you being so kind to a complete stranger? I’m here, wearing your clothes, sitting in your bed, drinking your tea. Why?” The words hung thick in the air around you, for so long you sipped your tea just for something to do as his lips pursed in consideration. You swore you could hear your heartbeat, drumming in anticipation. This was it. This was where stupid, ridiculous, blind trust from desperation got you. Into the bed of someone who could ruin your life, who would make it seem like nothing ever happened, who—

“I don’t quite know.”

“You— what?” It wasn’t what you’d been expecting, head emptying once again, and he shrugged. He sipped his tea, and didn’t continue. You placed your own down on the bedside table to your left, turning onto your side and propping yourself on the pillows to study him. “You don’t know?”

“No. I just saw you, and I wanted to talk to you. So, we talked. Then I walked you home, and I saw where you lived, and I just knew I couldn't let someone as good as you go in there again.”

“You don’t even know me! What if I’m a really awful person?”

“I don’t think so.” He smiled, tucking a strand of your hair away behind your ear as he smiled. His thumb came down, tracing slowly across your cheek in a way that made sparks fly along your skin, your heart skipping another beat, and his grin only got wider. “I’m pretty good at reading people, and you’re golden. Besides, my shadows are all shadows. They know these things, they don’t trust people easily, but they like you. That tells me that you’re good, that you deserve more.”

“That’s a lot of faith to have in them.”

“They’ve earned that faith over the centuries.” His confession brought another wave of silence, but nothing about it was awkward. He finished his tea, as did you, sitting side by side in his grand bed, where your feet didn’t even come close to touching the ends. “Azriel?”

“Yes?”

“Will you tell me something?”

His expression was sweet like sugar, and he rolled a little more to face you, a little closer to you, sharing your space. “What would you like me to tell you?”

“Tell me your funniest story.”

And just like that, Azriel was off, words flying from his mouth as he began to recreate the scene, and you slumped down into the pillows to listen. He told you about his brother, Cassian, and you laughed with him so much your sides hurt. You told him your own, your funniest tales of your time in school, pranks you and your friends had pulled, drunken nights out. 

Just one cup had become two, had become three, into four, as the stories moved on, conversation flowing so easily between you both in a way it never had before. 

The teapot was drained somewhere between talking about your childhood and his, when you’d returned the mugs to the tray, and found yourself braced in his arm, cheek on his chest listening to the rumble of his voice as he talked. 

Somewhere around the time of talking about all the promises he’d made, you’d found yourself sat up, cross-legged to match him and knees touching, leaning in like you were talking in secrets, hiding giggled in whispers like you were kids getting caught talking in a classroom. 

You told him about your trip to the Night Court, how you’d always felt so lost in Dawn, nothing seemed right, and after Amarantha's reign and the war, everything seemed to have fallen apart for you. He listened, he actually heard you, when you told him about your trip here, to see the City of Starlight and feeling more rooted here than you ever had in your home court. Something was calling you. You may not have the life you’d dreamed of yet, but you’d get there. 

He swore you would, he believed in you. He told you all the places to visit, the best parts of Velaris to see, when you could spare the time and the funds. Most seemed like dreams, things you’d never get to truly achieve, but it was fun to imagine them.

By the time the sun had been rising again, you were laying on your back, his head on your stomach as he lay sideways across the bed. Your hand was in his hair scratching across his scalp as he explained to you the trials that had brought him and his brothers to victory as Carynthian warriors.

“Azriel, can I ask you a question?” You whispered, dragging your hand through his hair one more time, before he was moving, propping his chin on your stomach and offering a sleepy smile.

“Sure.”

“What were you doing at the pleasure house tonight?”

“Looking for this.” He mumbled, yawning to follow it, and your thoughts swirled. He crawled up the bed a little more, collapsing down half on top of you still, half beside you in the bed, sharing your pillow. “Looking for company.”

“Well, yes, but not this kind of company.”

“No, not this kind.” His lips still smiled as his lashes fluttered, those pretty eyes finally opening to look at you again. “I’m so fuckin’ lonely, all the time. All those stories are great, they’re fun, but it's the times in between that hurt. When I sit at the dinner table, surrounded by five happy couples, all alone. When I see them, and I want to be so happy because they’re so in love, and I’m just jealous. Sometimes, I just want to be touched, to be loved, to be the one getting attention. Being the eleventh wheel sucks.”

“Eleventh wheel?” Your chuckle made him roll his eyes, shrugging helplessly, and groaning as he readjusted in the pillows, propping himself up. 

“I don’t know what drew me there tonight, just that I was lonely, and I want to feel love. Even if it was just a short time, even if I had to pay for it. Even if it wasn’t real.” He lifted your hand, weaving his scarred fingers through your own, and smiling fondly when he settled your hands in his lap. “Maybe it was fate that I found you instead. That, rather than pay for false love that would make me only feel worse after, I got to meet you, to help you. I didn’t bring you back here with this intention, I didn’t mean to bring you back at all, it just sort of happened. But, this has been one of the best nights of my existence, and all we did was talk.”

“Oh, Az…” Your voice cracked, leaning across towards him you pressed a kiss to his cheek, feeling his smile pull under your lips. 

“Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you.” You pulled back, settling your hand on his shoulder as your thumbs battled aimlessly. 

That blissful silence settled between you both once again, exhaustion eating at your boned as you fought to even keep your eyes open, and watch the growing sun rays come through the windows you’d never even bothered to cover last night. 

At some point, you’d have to leave. You’d have to give him his clothes back, and try to find your way home, living with nothing but the warming memories of this night to keep you from freezing in your apartment this Winter. It was all so worth it, because while you may not have confessed it in return, you hoped he knew it was one of the best nights of your existence, too.

“What if we did this again?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, words slightly slurred through your tiredness, and you wondered idly if you fell asleep here, would he let you stay until you woke up before sending you on your way?

“This. This, whatever this night was. We could make it an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?” You snorted, cloudy amusement filling your veins, but he only hummed. “Would you like to pay me to cuddle you, Azriel?”

“I would, actually. That and… other things.”

“What?” That cut through the haze, your head snapping up to look at him, your hand pulling back from his own as an icy feeling filled your chest. “I’m not— that’s— if I was going to do that, I’d be at the pleasure house right now!”

“What are you— no! Not those things!” His eyes widened as he released, shooting out to hold onto you once again as you searched for the edges of the covers to fling back. “Not like that. I just mean, there are things I want. I want company, I want someone to talk to over the dinner tables in the evening and hold like this, someone to make me feel less alone. I need affection, and just look at us tonight. Just like this, this was enough for me. And, there are things you need.”

“What do I need?” Huffing out the words, he gently smoothed your fingers from gripping the blankets, tipping your chin up to meet his gaze again. 

“You need a place to live that isn’t that horrible building. You need a real address, in a good part of town, so that someone will hire you. You need a friend in this city, and I want to be that friend.”

“So, you’d, what? Have me move into your house, live here with you? You’d change my whole life all for the measly price of cuddling you at night? You know, a girlfriend would do that for you. You wouldn't have trouble finding one, Azriel!”

“You’d be surprised.” He muttered, rubbing his thumb over your chin as he still held it. “Most people are scared of me, or want something from me. Even after that, I’m hard to put up with.”

“Oh, c’mon, Az.” Your eyes rolled, and he pinched a little in response. 

“Sometimes I have to go away for days at a time, weeks at a time. I have a hectic and unpredictable work schedule, so planning dates and getting to know someone isn’t exactly easy when you might have to inexplicably stand them up and not be able to explain why. Even so, I’m meticulous and pedantic, and people don’t want to date someone like that. Even with all that aside, actually connecting with someone is something I struggle with.” He let it all off his chest in one burst, and you felt the weight of his troubles and confessions like a rock on your chest. “You’d be perfect for me.”

“You don’t even know my name!”

“I do!” His eyes sheened over, thinking back across the whole night, and you watched the moment he realised that perhaps he’d given you his name, but he’d never asked for your own. “Names don’t mean a thing when I can see your soul so clearly, already.”

“You know this is insane, right?”

“Totally.” He confirmed, smiling a little at your scoff. “But we should still do it. You can live here, with me. You can get a job, make this your home, and have the life you always wanted in Velaris. In return, I get to not feel like the darkness, like I’m alone, all the time.”

“Would I have my own room?”

“Any you like. You’re not going to be a prisoner, or some kind of kinky hostage. This will be your home too.” Your shared snickers at his wording only brought you closer, until your forehead was resting on his own, staring at him through warped vision at your closeness. 

“This is madness. How would it work, what are the rules here?”

“The rules are whatever we want. We do what makes us happy, what makes us comfortable. I care about you, I like you. I don’t know what it is about you, but you’ve had me since the moment I saw you.” Your breathing stuttered, his hand cupping your whole cheek now instead, and you settled down into the pillows to face him. “It may be crazy, but I am crazy, you’re gonna’ learn that. Let me change your life, sweetheart. You’ll be changing mine too.”

Your voice was nothing more than a shaky whisper, accompanied by a smile. “Then I think you’ve got yourself a deal, Azriel.”

#SLS #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel x you #azriel/you #acotar x reader #acotar/reader #acotar x you #acotar/you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

[mvltisstuff]

hi!! i use tumblr on safari - so i’m unable to answer any messages - but i would like to put in a request for conrad fisher x fem! reader smut!

if your comfortable, could you do a imagine with an innocent/virgin reader that is constantly flustered by conrad?

thank you so much!! <<33

champagne & sunshine - c.f**

summary: request

conrad fisher x reader

a/n: i get so nervous posting smut (for literally no reason😭), but i still hope you enjoy this 🩶 warning for smut.

the bonfires were always a good time, usually. once you grow up, the hype of them dies down a bit. belly begged y/n to come, being her older sister figure. it was y/n’s birthday, so belly convinced her that it would be fun. besides, y/n’s mom had been letting her drink today, as long as she was home and with close people. y/n figured she’d leave it at that, not bothering to take anything at the party.

she threw one of the cans in the bag at the corner of the beach, avoiding the full boxes of hard seltzer as her eye landed on conrad and jeremiah entering the beach. luckily, the fire wasn’t bright enough to illuminate her bright red cheeks. she walked away from the drinks, turning away from conrad but also trying to make herself seem noticeable.

she’d grown up with the conklins and fishers next door, but she always had the biggest crush on conrad. every single time he walked in, her heart raced and almost everyone knew it. belly always teased her, someone noticing before she even knew she liked him.

conrad had always had his eyes on y/n. conrad, y/n, and steven had been the oldest, so it was usually him and her together. she acted like she barely knew him, when he probably knew her better than anyone else. now that they were both eighteen, legal adults, they could do pretty much whatever they pleased. somehow, y/n still found herself blushing like a little girl. conrad was one of the first to show her any attention. boys never cared about her at home, and he always made her feel wanted. she was always a shadow to her friends, who had guys clinging to them. she sat around with other people talking about sex and other stuff that y/n pretended to know about. it made her a little bit embarrassed, but who really cares? her whole friend group would laugh at her humorously if they found out she was a virgin, but again, who cares, right?

it wasn’t until she was sitting on the warm sand, feeling it in her hands as she slid them across the floor, that conrad sat next to her on the beach. the music was blaring, so y/n brought herself away to just observe people for a little bit. someone must’ve had the same idea if they tread all the way over to sit with her.

“you got dragged here, too?” conrad asks first.

“belly, jeremiah for you, i assume?”

“the one and only,” conrad laughs, as he kicks away an empty bottle. “you’re not drinking anything?”

“nah, i don’t really feel like it tonight. i’d rather just enjoy my birthday sober, unlike everyone else,” she tells him, pointing to the stumbling people surrounding the fire.

“you’re not the only one,” conrad says. “so it’s just us, huh?”

“y-yeah,” y/n stutters. “i mean, i didn’t even bother getting all dressed up for this shit.”

“i think you look beautiful either way,” he says, and when y/n looks up, his eyes are softly on hers, refusing to crack the shell between them. y/n pauses, looking at conrad dumbfounded. she never has boys call her beautiful, let alone the one she’s been hopelessly in love with for years. but, they always say love hits you when you least expect it. y/n thought that was a lie, but she really believed it for now.

“you too, connie,” she spits out, not bothering to change the adjective for him because everyone is beautiful. he adjusts himself to sit closer to y/n, trying to relieve some of the tension. his eyes can’t help but wander across her body, taking in every part of her that’s breathtaking to him. and the cropped tank top and shorts that she’s wearing isn’t fucking helping his case either. she’d be lying if she wasn’t checking him out, too. his sharp jawline, his hands, his radiant eyes, his lips could never be missed by y/n. someone this pretty deserves to be looked at, they both think without speaking.

“do you wanna head out? come to my place for a bit?” conrad asks, standing up and holding his hand out as she nods up at him, anticipating a night alone.

before y/n can even begin to think straight, their lips are crashed together in his car. she’s leaning over the cup holders in the center, and her hands are against his face. his hands are placed on her hips as he can’t help but steer his mind away from his tongue in her mouth. he never in a million years thought he’d see this side of her, and she never thought she’d see it in herself. she’s kissed guys before, but never this intimately. conrad pulls away, smiling against her lips before connecting them again. every single time this happens, y/n swears her heart skips a beat in the best way possible. like their lips set off fireworks in the car. they decided to leave the vehicle, climbing up the stairs, trying not to disturb the moms watching a movie. conrad places his hands on her thighs, lifting her up and placing y/n gently on his bed. he climbs up as well, letting her legs wrap around him as their kiss does nothing but intensify.

her hands roam all around his body, his waist, his shoulders, his neck. the only time they separate is for a breath of air, just until they can return again. conrad’s wander over her chest, placing one of his hands to squeeze her breasts.

“is this ok?” conrad waits for confirmation until he gets a yes. after, in response, y/n tugs off conrad’s shirt, discarding it to the floor somewhere in his room. her hands run down his back. “if you want to stop, tell me and we’ll stop the second you say it.”

“ok,” she peeps out. “but if this does go any further, i’ve never done any of… this, before.”

“we can stop, y/n, whenever you want.”

“no! no, i want to keep going. can we just, go slower, maybe?”

“anything you need,” conrad reassures her before moving down the waistband of her shorts. “can i take these off?”

“yes,” she tells him, clearly and assertively as he takes off the tank top, too, leaving her in just a gray bra on his bed.

“have you ever… ever been eaten out before?” he asks. she shakes her head no, slightly embarrassed so she puts her head down to cover it, but conrad sees right through it. “hey, look at me. you’re ok, i promise. can i keep going?”

“yeah, please,” she says, squirming in discomfort from her own arousal. the feeling is unfamiliar, wanting someone to touch her so bad as it’s at her fingertips. someone willing to love her is right in front of her. conrad begins to peel off y/n’s underwear, throwing it off the bed like his shirt, ending up somewhere on the floor. she pulls her legs apart, spreading them as conrad’s eyes fall deeper.

“god, y/n,” he says. “you’re so fucking hot.”

“conrad,” she begs, as he flattens himself down trying to ignore his own erection. he wants to pleasure her first, and knowing he’s the first one too might boost his ego a bit. but conrad would never admit that.

his face is an inch away from her pussy, beginning to kiss her inner thighs as she groans from the teasing. finally, his tongue makes contact with y/n’s slit, gathering up her arousal before swirling it around her clit. y/n’s head falls back onto the pillow again in pure pleasure, letting out a quiet moan for the first time. “oh, fuck yes,” she speaks out, making conrad try to contain a smile. he places his tongue on her clit again, moving his flat tongue up and down. he switches between those movements and wrapping his lips around it, sucking on her clit, causing her to fail at concealing her moans. y/n’s hand moves down to conrad’s hair, trying to ground herself on the bed from the ecstasy.

the second her climax starts rolling up onto her, her legs start shaking and that tells conrad that you’re close. “f-fuck, con- oh my god,” she pants out, trying to formulate words but failing. her orgasm creeps up and sends her over the edge, releasing a strong moan from her lips as she comes down from the high, his fingers are gently circling over her clit.

“that was, um, holy shit, that was amazing, conrad,” she smiles as he pulls himself back up to her.

“are you feeling alright?”

“better than ever,” she says, making conrad laugh as he moves over to his drawer. he pulls out the box of condoms before taking one out.

“do you wanna keep going?”

“yeah, i do.”

conrad moves back over, dropping his pants and rolling to condom on. y/n gazes at his length, wondering how she would be able to take it. with conrad here, she knew she would be ok, so they continued. he walks back over, pulling her legs apart and making eye contact with her again. “remember, we can always stop no matter what, ok? just say stop, and we can stop.” she nods and he leans in closer. he plants a sweet kiss on her lips before pulling away, it was her turn to smile against his lips.

once settled in between her legs, conrad begins to run his tip up her slit. he confirms that she’s doing alright and that she’s ready to keep going. after he’s aware, he slides his dick into her, making her nose scrunch and release a high moan.

“you ok?”

“yes,” she replies. “yeah, you can go faster.”

conrad speeds up his pace, thrusting himself into y/n. she didn’t feel outright pain, just discomfort. that discomfort soon turned into pleasure, causing her mouth to hang open. “you feel so good, y/n/n, god damn.”

y/n’s hand falls down to her clit, circling it until she starts to bring that now familiar feeling up. conrad continues to keep the same pace, not changing it to make her feel comfortable and in control, just as much as he is. “i’ve loved you for so fucking long,” he spits out, not thinking about his words. y/n heard him loud and clear, but she’s too distracted by her orgasm coming up.

“conrad i’m close,” she tells him.

“me too, baby,” he says, breathless. “come for me, y/n.”

her release leaves her with stars in her head, the feeling better than anything she’s ever experienced. she was always worrying about sex and what it might be like, but with conrad, he made it amazing for her. she knew he was the right guy. he brings himself down, leaning onto her as he releases himself into the condom. he pulls out of her, throwing away the condom and pulling his boxers back on. y/n grabs her underwear, as she stands up wobbly. her legs are weak from her two orgasms from conrad, making him chuckle in the corner.

“hey, um,” y/n starts. “thank you.”

“yeah, of course,” he stutters a bit, not sure of what to say but trying to still wrap his head around it. he means, he just had sex with the hottest girl in cousins, what is he supposed to say? “you know, i meant what i said. i’ve liked you so much, for a long time.”

she just stares at him, confirming that she’s not in some dream. “i’ve been in love with you since the day i first saw you on the beach,” conrad steps over to her. placing his hands back on her bare waist and kissing her passionately again. he pulls back again to sadly, break the kiss off.

“we should probably clean up a bit, before everyone comes back and yells at us for leaving,” he says, brushing a loose piece of hair behind her ear. she nods, beginning to pull the rest of her clothes on. thank god she left that party when she did, or she would still love conrad, but never say it.

#the summer i turned pretty #tsitp fanfic #tsitp #conrad fisher angst #belly x conrad #conrad fisher smut #conrad fisher #conrad fisher fic #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher oneshot #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher fanfic #jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher x reader #belly conklin #belly x jeremiah #team conrad #team jeremiah #steven conklin #susannah fisher #laurel conklin #belly conklin x reader #the summer i turned pretty fic #the summer i turned pretty fanfic #the summer i turned pretty x reader #tsitp jeremiah #tsitp belly #tsitp conrad

[charmedreincarnation]

Hey, guys! I've been receiving a ton of messages in response to my last post. It's reminding me of how I first discovered shifting. I feel like doing a little story time since Ive just passed the three-year mark of my discovery, and I've been reminiscing with friends about it.

I remember being in a very dark place when I stumbled upon shifting. I was depressed, and very suicidal. Yet, there was this unshakeable optimism inside me that I was meant for an extraordinary life. Despite my mental state, I had a lot of knowledge of subliminals and the law of attraction (-_-). These gave me hope, but they weren't enough tbh. I didn't want to attract my dream life through practicing gratitude or becoming a magnet for my desires or whatever. Nor did I want to have to listen to subliminals for years on end to achieve my goals. My list of desires was so long, and I needed everything to change that going step by step and waiting years for each one to manifest just wasn't feasible.

But I refused to give up. One day, after a particularly hard day of being sad per usual, I searched on Quora for something like "fastest most powerful subliminals on YouTube ever" (Y’all 😭😭). Among the recommended sub creators, I found a video called "Desired Life: Reality Shifting". The description promised everything I had ever wanted: waking up with all your desires fulfilled permanently in short. It piqued my curiosity so much. Could I really just wake up with my dream life, family, house, wealth, all based on my scripts and imagination?

Growing up, I was a heavy maladaptive daydreamer. From ages 10-17, I created alternate lives in my head, telling myself I would go there someday. I was always doing SATs (State Akin to Sleep), and I think that's what kept me from ending it all. I was constantly in the wish fulfilled state, even though I didn't know what that was at the time.

Back to my story, I went into the comments of that video and came across a guy who claimed that after a week of using this subliminal, he woke up with a new life as a multi-millionaire living in his dream penthouse. I messaged him, and he gave me his Instagram which showcased his luxurious life. He had what seemed like a perfect relationship, he was very attractive, had so many cars, and travelled 24/7 while having a six figures amount of followers. He was living proof that this wasn't just scripting. Also the law of attraction community is known for their mad expensive coaching.. like hundreds of dollars per hour for questions and he was answering it all for free something I didn’t see the law of attraction community. And I talked to him for hours! He never got mad, he had proof, and he was kind, proof and the behavior of someone who really had mastered the art of life.

After our conversation, I spent the next couple of months doing research. I found numerous stories about glitches in the matrix, accidental shifting, people entering parallel realities, and eventually, shifting communities on platforms like Amino and Reddit. It was stuff I already believed in and did in my imagination; I just didn’t know there was a term for it.

Then I got reminded of a memory that I had seriously repressed bc it was so fucking weird. When I was 6 and my brother was 3, we were absolutely obsessed with dodo birds. One day, we were outside playing, and on god time seemed to stop. Out of nowhere, a dodo bird appeared. I know you’re probably like “maya be so fr rn you were a kid” but no, This wasn't just our young imaginations running wild - there was a bird that was huge, dinosaur-like, exactly how dodos are described in books and pictures we had.

Then things got weirder. Suddenly it started raining eggs. Big, large eggs everywhere it was so gross and my brother and I were a mess. We were young, sure, but not stupid. We knew this wasn't normal. My brother and I rushed inside to tell our dad. When I managed to drag him outside, he was furious, accusing me of throwing eggs everywhere. To this day, he tells the story of the time I "trashed the backyard with eggs." And every time, I'm like, "Dad, where would I get that many eggs?" We didn’t have eggs but so he assumed I stole them and we went inside for hours and it was magically cleaned. So he also tells the story of how responsible I am and how I took accountability for my actions even as a child. I didn’t clean that shit bro and I tell him that too and he just laughs it makes me so mad.

My brother, who knows I'm into reality shifting (though he doesn’t really believe in it), can't explain that day either. He often shrugs it off as a "glitch in the matrix," which honestly, well no duh it is a shift dummie. He does believe in manifesting but only bc he has seen me use it and he experiences the good things I manifest as well. They’re the same thing anyways but that isn’t the point

The reason I'm bringing up this bizarre childhood memory is because during my months of research into shifting, I found countless stories of accidental shifts, people entering the void, entering parallel universes, time glitches, examples of the Mandela effect first hand, glitches in the matrix and etc. It was like uncovering a myriad of experiences that confirmed what I already believed: we can change and choose our reality. I just didn’t know the phenomena had a name. Obviously in the future I came across other things like the law of assumption, the void state, etc etc but this was where it started.

I wish I had saved all those fascinating stories, posts, and blogs. I might go back and compile everything I found because they were so real and enlightening. It will probably take forever tho if I do choose to do that, but I think it's worth sharing.

In the meantime, check out this accounts of accidental shifts that my friend shared with me this account https://instagram.com/tessicavision?igshid=OGQ5ZDc2ODk2ZA== based off the Glitch in the Matrix subreddit which is also a goldmine of people experiencing similar phenomena. It helped me make sense of my own experiences and might do the same for you.

I don’t want this to be too long and I already got to the point I think! but regardless stay curious and realize you’re really not that special. I mean ofc you are, i mean this is not some tumblr thing teens girls discovered or created and isn’t even limited to “spiritually/manifesting inclined people” I think at the beginning of my journey people talking about accidental shifts and such, inspired me more than purposeful success stories because they really have no reason to lie and they were looking for answers just like I was.

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #reality shifting #shiftblr