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#i want to use both but that feels like a cop out
explorevenus · 1 day
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baby steps ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader
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nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops
word count: 5k
description: moving to raccoon city with leon, your long-term boyfriend and childhood sweetheart, doesn't go as planned. while you consider moving back home to lick your wounds, leon conspires to keep you right by his side, where you were always meant to be.
tags/warnings: yandere!leon kennedy, specifically rookie cop leon, squishy soft dom leon, manipulation and generally toxic behavior, baby trapping (via tampering w condoms), daddy kink, praise kink, pet names, no use of y/n, fingering, p in v, creampie, cockwarming, mention of vomiting
a/n: this piece was commissioned by #1 Soft Dom Rookie Leon Truther and My Feral Puppy Wife @nexysworld ,, pls pls check out her work, she's so very talented and sweet and i am lucky to call her a friend ;w; <33
hopefully if u made it this far u read the tags and know what ur in for, but out of an abundance of caution i would like to reiterate that this is a yandere!leon fic and therefore contains dark themes a la dubious/uninformed consent and unhealthy relationship dynamics. if that's a no-no for u, pls kindly move on and take care of urself !!
my masterlist ♡
my ao3 ♡
fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;
-venus ♡
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Leon had it all figured out from the day he met you, the first day of kindergarten. The two of you were going to be just like the movies, just like the storybooks– you would grow up as friends, blossom into lovers, marry young and start a family, and everything would be exactly as it should be. He would have fulfilled his purpose, and you would have fulfilled yours. All would be right in the universe.
And he wasn’t exactly far off, for a long time. You were attached at the hip through elementary school, somehow managed to stay friends through middle school and after an awkward, smitten kiss shared in the empty auditorium, you began dating in high school. It was perfect, he thought. He didn’t even have to pull that many strings.
You went to prom, got drunk for the first time, learned to drive, all in each other’s company. You had each other’s virginity. You’d seen, touched and savored every inch of each other. There was almost nothing you didn’t share.
It wasn’t too long after graduation that Leon applied to begin training at the police academy, just like he’d always dreamed of. It was a solid profession with plenty of benefits for both of you and it would give him the opportunity to help people, ticking off all the boxes of what he wanted for himself. It was perfect, it was safe.
No one was surprised when he soared through the police academy with impeccable marks. You were such a little angel when he graduated, showering him with kisses and sweets and letting him pound you into the mattress for a whole weekend to celebrate. And when his application in Raccoon City was accepted, you did exactly as he hoped you would and you followed right along with him.
Of course you would follow right along. You didn’t know what life without Leon meant. You couldn’t even conceptualize what that would feel like and you had no intention of finding out, but that was fine by him. He was happy to be your rock, your guidance, your big, strong boyfriend who would hold your hand and follow you through everything. 
With Leon, you would never be alone. You would never be far from home. After all this time, he was your home, exactly as your lives were designed.
For the first few months of living in Raccoon City, the two of you shared a cozy apartment. It was a little worse for wear, but it was cute, and it was a fun way to start your adventure into young adulthood together. He was happy to handle all of the spiders and quadruple check the locks every night if it made you feel safer, if it gave you an excuse to come crying to him like a beautiful angel whenever you were frightened.
Bumps in the night, creaks of the pipes, the skittering of the upstairs neighbor’s little dog, they all sent you folding into his arms, shaking like a leaf, crying for him to protect you. He was your knight, and God were you his perfect little princess. The apple of his eye, the one and only object of his affection. No, not his affection, his obsession.
You were all he thought about, day and night, for more than half of his 21 years of living. Everything he did, every breath he took was with you in mind. You were the only living manifestation of complete and total perfection, every inch of you crafted with care and divinity. Your lives fit together like puzzle pieces– hell, your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. You were meant for each other.
It wasn’t long after you moved that the job you had lined up fell through, and you were left reeling. Moving away from home just to fall flat on your face was a massive blow to your self esteem, especially considering your parents practically screamed a hole through the phone at you about it. The next few days were spent sulking around the apartment, trying to pick up the pieces and choose a completely different path for yourself.
And there was Leon to hold you while you cried. To make dinner every night and dote on you endlessly, to pamper you with gifts and to insist over and over that he could make rent on his own, that he didn’t mind if you needed a little more time to wallow before finding a job… and to console you when your search for employment would prove fruitless once again.
He was there to tell you it wasn’t your fault, that the job market was just rough right now and that no matter what, he would be there to take care of you.
Weeks stretched into months and you still felt like you were spinning out, even with Leon by your side. Every single day was beginning to feel the same and you didn’t know what to do, all you knew was that you couldn’t imagine living the rest of your life like this. Something had to give and Raccoon City clearly wasn’t it.
Leon came home with a big smile on his face, just like any other day, but today was extra special. He’d finally had his one year review at the police station, and he was getting a sizable raise. He couldn’t wait to tell you he was gonna get you out of this shitty apartment and into somewhere nicer. He couldn’t wait to sneak his way down to the jeweler in search of a ring. The storybook life he had laid out for you was coming to fruition right before his eyes.
But you were quiet over dinner, and you looked exhausted. You wouldn’t even meet his eyes as you picked at your plate.
He was just about to ask you what was wrong when you finally spoke up, “I-I think I need to move back home with my parents.”
Silence. He felt like he had been shot.
“It’s just that… I know you said you’re happy to take care of bills and everything, but I just feel terrible every day being a burden and I think I need a chance to figure things out and get back up on my feet. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life anymore.”
His expression fell and his heart ached, any and all excitement he had about his situation now gone in an instant. All the money in the world meant nothing to him if he couldn’t share it with you, and to see you so lost and scared made him feel like he fucking failed you, his poor, sweet princess who looked to him for purpose and protection and partnership. 
Leon wasn’t stupid. He knew that allowing you to move back in with your parents could potentially be a death sentence to your relationship. When people aren’t around each other anymore, it’s only natural that they drift apart, and Leon could not let that happen. It wasn’t even an option in his brain. Something had to be done and something had to be done now, before your lease was up in a few months, before push came to shove and you would finally have to make your choice.
He wasn’t even really sure where he got the idea. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered before, mostly because he didn’t think he’d ever be put in this position.
A few nights after that conversation, Leon couldn’t sleep. It was well past two in the morning and you were peacefully asleep beside him while he stared at the ceiling, entirely lost in thought. He witnessed the worst and darkest of humanity at work every single day, but nothing scared him as deeply as the idea of losing you. 
Eventually he got out of bed as carefully as he could manage, not wanting to wake you with his troubles. He only planned to get some water and maybe a minute or two of fresh air to clear his mind, but what he didn’t plan to get was some inspiration. 
You had asked him to stop at the store on his way home from work to pick up a few things you needed, and the bag was still sitting on the counter. He took it upon himself to grab a few things he needed, too, and among the items left in the bag was an unopened box of condoms. At first his eyes skimmed over it without much interest, but it wasn’t long before he froze where he stood and turned to look at the bag again.
Leon wasn’t sure what came over him. He didn’t really feel like himself, it was like he was watching his next moves from a third person perspective, hovering above, detached. For a moment he even wondered if he was sleepwalking, or if this was a dream. He stared down at the box in his hand, carefully opened it, and pierced a hole in the center of each and every one. He tucked the packets back into the box and brought it with him on his way back to the bedroom, stashing it in the usual spot in the bedside table.
On his side, of course.
He tried to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t help but just watch you. You were so pretty, so peaceful when you were dreaming, such a nice contrast to the stress and insecurity over finding your life’s purpose that plagued you in your waking hours.
But Leon already knew your life’s purpose. He reached out, gently brushing your messy hair away from your sleepy face so he could admire you more fully, and all he could think about was how much happier you’d look with a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly. Maybe an unexpected nudge in the right direction would set you back on the correct path and make you come to your senses about moving back in with your parents.
You huffed out a sleepy little breath from between your plush lips, stirring in the bed and peeking open your eyes to look at him. It was clear you weren’t fully conscious yet, but you were trying, squirming closer to him to tuck yourself into his chest.
“W’time is it?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes.
He smiled fondly, petting your hair and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you cuddled up to him like a sweet little baby bear, and he tried to pretend he hadn’t accidentally made himself hard as fuck thinking about knocking you up just to get you to stay with him. Somewhere deep down, he knew it was gross, he knew it was wrong, he knew it could violate your trust in so many ways.
But Leon was nothing if not a yearner, a hopeless romantic who couldn’t bear the thought of life without you by his side. He’d done everything right by you and you were still straying away from him, and that just wouldn’t do. It’s an act of desperation, he thought to himself, justifying his actions into the ground, I just want her so badly I’m not thinking straight, all pleas for forgiveness he would store for later use.
“It’s late, baby,” He mumbled into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”
You just shook your head and tightened your arms around him, clearly on the verge of dozing off again. Perhaps if the circumstances were different, he would have just let you, but he wouldn’t be awake in the first place if it weren’t for the extreme sense of urgency he felt.
His broad, warm hands engulfed you, one cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed your lower back, tapering off to paw at your hip. Your shirt– well, his shirt– had ridden up nearly to your waist, baring your cute panties, your soft belly and your plush thighs to his gaze. He swiped the pad of his thumb along your hip, imagining your bone structure spreading open to make room for his growing baby.
Leon didn’t take the time to talk himself out of it before his fingertips were sneaking down between your legs, slipping beneath your panties and finding your clit with practiced ease. The sensation was enough to jerk you awake again, a quiet mewl tumbling from your lips as you rocked into his hand, so sleepy and out of it and just so very cute.
“Leon?” Your voice was thick with sleep, but airy and light with sudden onset desire. That was all he needed to know he had you right where he wanted you.
“Shh, shh, you’re alright,” He cooed softly, following up the soothing whispers with a few gentle nibbles and bites to the shell of your ear, knowing that such attention always melted you into a puddle. “You’re alright, pretty baby, I just wanna play with you. Can daddy play with his sweet angel?”
You squirmed in his hold for a second, pondering his proposition while barely awake, but it wasn’t long before you were nodding into his shoulder and peppering his collarbone with wet kisses in return. It never took much to convince you when he spoke to you like that, so adoring and saccharine. 
“That’s my good girl,” He mused, invigorated by your consent. Almost instantaneously he became more heavy-handed with his touches, fingertips massaging firm, purposeful circles around your clit, occasionally dipping down to collect your growing arousal and bring it back with him. “You’re all mine, you know that? Never gonna let anyone else have my baby.”
Poor you. Clueless of his intentions, you interpreted that sentence in a much different way than he really meant it. But, ignorance is bliss, and what you felt right now was nothing short of blissful.
You poked your head up just to catch his lips with your own in a wanton grasp for more intimacy, a signal of your agreement, like you were giving yourself to him. He knew it was wrong that you didn’t fully realize what you were agreeing to, but again, he compartmentalized that, deciding that was a problem for his future self. What mattered right now was securing your place at his side for the rest of your lives.
He could feel the way your hips were stuttering, he could feel how short your breaths were becoming against his lips, and he knew you were getting close. Grunting into your mouth, he forced his hand further down your panties and sank two thick fingers into your hole, stretching you open for him. The intrusion was quite a bit less gentle than you were used to from him, drawing a shocked whimper from you, but you soon began to relax once more when he curled up into your sweet spot, sending you boneless. 
“D-Daddy,” You whined, nails biting into his shoulders. “Hurts… Slow, slower…”
A shiver rolled over his body, that of immediate guilt. He knew he was being a little rough with you, and he certainly didn’t want to hurt you, but…
“Fuck, I can’t help it,” He groaned, “Been thinking about this pussy all night, princess, I need you like air…”
You could hear the desperation in his tone, and even more you could feel it in the way he touched you like he was starving, like he was stranded in the desert and you were an oasis. Softened by this– and entirely hypnotized by his praise– you resigned to the feeling, allowing him to play with your body as he pleased. He was rutting into nothing without even thinking about it, his cock woefully hard and straining against the front of his grey sweatpants.
He wanted to prepare you properly, he really did, but he was so revved up and needy, he didn’t want to risk blowing his load anywhere but inside you. That wasn’t an option. Hands shaking, he pulled away from you just long enough to kick his sweatpants off and reach for one of those condoms, silently resenting the fact that he had to wear one at all, but he had an appearance to keep up. 
He tore the package open haphazardly with his teeth and rolled the condom on, shuddering deeply. His grasp was tight on your thigh as he pulled it up and over his hip, his other hand pushing your dainty purple panties aside to guide his cock into the heavenly, pillowy walls of your ethereal cunt.
Fuck, you were so fucking tight, clenching around him, whimpering and whining and writhing like a perfect little puppy in heat. Leon’s teeth sank into your shoulder as he bottomed out in you, and he almost could have sworn he felt the tip of the condom rip open even wider. The image alone had him moaning like an animal, pinning your quivering body to his own while he rolled his hips, fucking you deep and hard and slow, savoring every single stroke of your slippery walls around his aching cock. Every meeting of your hips was joined by obscene squelching with the way you were practically sucking him in.
“G-God, fuck,” Leon growled, his face contorted with pleasure. You and Leon had always had what you considered to be an active and healthy sex life, but you’d never seen him quite so beside himself with raw lust. Whatever drove him in that moment was primal, and you could feel it in his every movement, his every breath, see it in the wild look in his eyes.
His pupils were like dinner plates as he gazed down at you, stamping your forehead with kisses and feeling over every inch of your body. “Look at you, just look at you… Such a perfect little dolly for daddy to love on forever and ever, huh? Oh, my princess…”
You were lightheaded with arousal, every nerve ending in your body lighting up with white hot pleasure. You could barely even form a sentence, just nodding along as he moaned out his praise and letting him manhandle you like a ragdoll. Perhaps his words had more than a modicum of truth to them.
“F-Feels so… so… fuck, daddy, feels so good,” You babbled mindlessly, head falling back to the pillows beneath you. He was overwhelming your senses, taking over every corner of your mushy brain. The room was dark and you were still a bit delirious with sleep and to that effect, nothing existed in your world right now but daddy, daddy, daddy…
He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the spot on your shoulder he’d so harshly bitten earlier, the pace of his thrusts not faltering for a second. “Yeah? I’ll bet it does, judging by the look on you,” He teased, nipping at your throat. “So pretty when you’re all fucked out.”
Your back was arching up off the bed, your eyes rolling back and your walls pulsing around him. Addicted to eliciting pleasured reactions from you, Leon wedged one hand between your two bodies, flattening his palm on your lower belly before pressing down.
Stars. You saw stars. A broken, high-pitched cry ripped from your throat, and you didn’t even have the capacity to hope the neighbors didn’t think you were being murdered, because you didn’t care. You could feel every rigid inch of him inside you, dragging over every nerve, his cock stuffed so deep that you swore you could feel him in your throat. Toes curling and your nails raking down his naked back, tears were beginning to prick at your eyes– you were close.
That was a good thing, though, considering he was too, and he could only hope the wet heat of your release would mask the feeling of his own. Leon sealed his lips over your own once more, swallowing your broken, needy cries as he fucked you to completion, letting his hand fall a little bit lower until his fingertips were on your clit again.
Your body twitched at the stimulation, thighs clamping down tight around his hips as you sobbed into his mouth and soaked his cock with your gushing sex. “Daddy,” You wept, clinging to him for dear life as he fucked you through your high, his own spilling out in sync. “Daddy, daddy, daddy…”
“Shh, I’ve got you, baby, I’m right here,” He cooed, taking your bottom lip playfully between his teeth before pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. “Just stay put, you’re doing so good for me, angel…”
His hips continued to piston forward as he hoped to force as much of his cum into you as he could manage, while still maintaining the believable illusion of protection. He intended to put every last one of those tampered-with condoms to use, though he wondered silently to himself if you might give up and just let him take you raw once you were to inevitably find out you’re pregnant.
You were a weeping, shivering mess in his arms, thighs clenching and twitching around him as he shushed you and babied you, petting your hair away from your tear-stained face and stamping you with delicate kisses, still stuffing his cum into you with shallow thrusts. He couldn’t wait to see you blossom right before his eyes. He couldn’t wait for you to realize your purpose was right here with him. He couldn’t wait to have you to himself for the rest of your days, his princess.
Leon remained sheathed deep within you, even as he softened, wanting to make sure you stayed plugged up well. But, he also couldn’t resist the warmth and wetness of you, how comforting it felt to be enveloped by you.
“You just stay put right there, okay, princess?” He reiterated quietly, lips brushing over your brow in a loving kiss. “Want you to keep daddy warm for the rest of the night. Can you do that for me?”
As if he even had to ask. You would have done practically anything for him when reduced to such a bleary, agreeable state of mind. He knew you all too well.
You just nodded like a bobblehead, dreamy, doe eyes staring up at him through teary lashes, hanging off his every word like gospel. He tucked you in even closer to his chest, cradling you with such adoration, his hips rocking forward every now and then just to get a reaction out of you, and to remind himself this was real.
He wasn’t at all surprised that you were able to fall asleep like that, stuffed full of cum and sated like a good little princess deserved to be. In a perfect world, you would never have to move again, just stay there in his lap forever and soak up every drop of him you could take. 
In the coming weeks, that box of condoms wouldn’t last long. The only thought on his mind day in and day out was bending you over every surface in the apartment, and you thought nothing of it. Of course you noticed his sudden, insatiable lust for you, but you assumed it was a symptom of knowing his beloved girlfriend was just a few short months away from potentially leaving. He was only grasping at every inch of you he could commit to memory, right?
In all fairness to you, you weren’t exactly that far off.
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Your tired eyes pried open at the familiar feeling of Leon rutting up against you, gripping at your hips like you would disappear if he didn’t. The morning sun was just barely beginning to peek through the windows and the bed was warm, it was a lovely way to wake up, one you would never get tired of.
Or at least you never thought you would. You loved Leon— and his sexual prowess— very dearly, but you also loved being able to sleep through an entire night without interruption, and you hadn’t been getting much of that over the past several weeks.
“Mnh… Leon, babe,” You grumbled, burying your face back into your pillow. “Not today. I’m exhausted.”
He was taken aback by this at first, and then his expression fell with disappointment. Leon had gotten so used to breeding you dumb every morning before work that he wasn’t confident he could go back to functioning without it. Regardless, Leon knew that continuing his attempt to seduce you while you were this grouchy would be a death sentence, so he opted to take the path of least resistance. 
After the moment or two it took for him to process that decision, Leon’s touches quickly shifted from provocative to soothing– he was no longer grasping at your hips but wrapping you up in his arms, pressing gentle kisses to your temple and cheekbone as if to regain your good favor.
You hummed contentedly, relaxing back into his embrace. Leon always warmed up like a heater in the night, and you were more than happy to bask in it. His muscular frame was like a weighted blanket and his presence alone was usually enough to knock you out like a light, but for some reason, you were struggling to fall back asleep. Every second felt like five minutes and despite your best efforts– and your complete and utter exhaustion– sleep refused to reclaim you.
Biting back the urge to blame Leon for waking you up in the first place, you huffed out a breath and rolled over in his arms, hoping the change in position might be just what you needed.
Wrong. Very, very wrong. Something about the movement made you dizzy, nauseous, your stomach twisting into knots. You wanted to say something, but you weren’t even sure what to say. It came on so suddenly that it caught you off guard and you weren’t even fully confident you would be able to get up at first.
You whined his name quietly, nuzzling into his chest and wrenching your eyes shut in an attempt to reorient yourself, your arms closing around your middle instinctively.
“You alright? What’s the matter?” Your sweet boyfriend asked quietly, brows furrowing with concern. He could feel your body trembling against his own, your back rising and falling with short, shallow breaths.
Now it was your throat tightening, too, and the second your mouth started to flood with saliva, you knew what was about to happen. Leon didn’t stop you when you writhed out of his embrace and stumbled out of bed, depending on muscle memory alone to get yourself to the bathroom with how woozy and ill you felt.
You just barely made it to the toilet in time to vomit. The cold tile felt nice on your knees, but the impact, not as much. It wasn’t long before Leon materialized at your side with a glass of water and a cold washcloth to hold over your forehead, rubbing your back and already silently conspiring to call out of work and give his poor, sick angel the princess treatment all day.
You collapsed back into his chest with a deep shudder, reaching for the water in a desperate attempt to wash the taste of bile from your mouth. He ended up grabbing it for you, raising it to your cracked lips and helping you take slow, measured drinks.
“There you go, pup,” He hummed, rocking you gently in his lap, his poor little darling princess. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”
Your eyes fluttered closed, a sense of relief washing over you at last. Maybe you just caught a bug, or ate something your body didn’t agree with, or your stress and exhaustion were finally catching up to you. Surely you would feel better within a few days.
“I’m okay,” You whispered, reaching for his hand and squeezing it affectionately. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
Leon smiled, a burst of warmth spreading through his chest. You couldn’t possibly imagine what that meant to him, considering he chose to interpret it in whatever way felt most validating. After all, no one could take care of you like Leon could, and they wouldn’t have the chance to try, anyway. Not over his dead body.
Stooping down to kiss the crown of your head, Leon’s every word was thick with syrupy sweetness, “My baby, I would be so lost if I didn’t. Taking care of you is like breathing to me.”
And he meant every part of it. He didn’t just mean it, he showed it. He showed it when he held your hair back, and he showed it when you realized you couldn’t even remember when you’d had your last period. He showed it when you sent him to the drugstore in the middle of the night for pregnancy tests, and he showed it when you broke down crying at the results, wondering how this could have happened.
His favorite part was showing it when you tearfully called your parents and told them you were staying in Raccoon City, not because you had found a job, but because you were pregnant.
“I can’t believe they’re choosing to react like this, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. They should be happy for you, and it’s awful that they’re anything but happy for you,” He said, voice low and soothing, tone purposeful. “I’ve got you, princess. I’ve got you. I’m gonna take good care of you and this baby, and we’re gonna be happy. Alright?”
Leon tipped your chin up with his knuckle, making you look at him. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were puffy with tears, droplets still clinging to your little dolly eyelashes.
It was hard not to believe him when he spoke with such conviction, when he looked at you with those rich blue eyes that bled from an endless well of love. The pad of his thumb skimmed over your pouty bottom lip as you unknowingly submitted to his grand design.
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Cool About It // 01
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01 - Breaking & Entering
pairing: noah sebastian x fem!oc
masterlist: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 6.3k
summary; Noah runs into an old friend while visiting his hometown for the holidays. Noah convinces Amelia to meet him on the playground they grew up on to catch up. Reminiscing leads them to a midnight adventure that reminds them all too much of the past.
warnings; alcohol consumption, breaking & entering? stealing? kinda?, hallmark-y, nostalgic, talks of family trauma, cops (acab!), vaguely sad & distraught Noah, uses 'Sebastian' as his last name, 18+ MDNI
disclaimer; welcome to my new short series! reminder that this is hallmark-y bc i began writing it in December lol i decided to challenge myself w this fic in multiple ways, one of the biggest ones was writing it in 3rd person vs my comfy world of 1st or 2nd person. I’ve never written in 3rd person so, if it’s not my best, i apologize, i’m sure it will improve lol
a/n: this is au and follows no actual timelines/events, and uses oc's for family members.
don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)
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It had been quite a busy morning, and Amelia was slowly making her way through the longest line she’d had in a while. She finished heating up a cinnamon roll and snapped a lid on what felt like the 75th peppermint mocha she’d made that day.
“Thanks.” Mumbled the distracted patron and stepped off to the side to grab extra napkins.
“Next.” She said while shuffling dollar bills into the clangy register, then looked up motioning to the last customer. Her hazel eyes landed on a man covered in tattoos pre-occupied on his phone. “Next!” Her call was louder than before and this time edged with impatient annoyance.
A familiar pair of dark brown eyes snapped up at her, his gaze more startled than angry.
Amelia’s brows furrowed together and as if on cue, the register dinged closed in time with her realization.
She’d recognize those eyes anywhere.
“Noah?”
The soft velvet of her voice yanked each edge of Noah’s mouth into a wide toothy smile. “Scout?” He asked in the same caught-off-guard tone. His voice was much deeper than she remembered, and he seemed taller, if that was even possible.
She chuckled at the fact that he used his old nickname for her and felt a tinge of warmth bloom on her cheeks. The ends of her pink lips curled up into an adorably genuine smile. “What are you doing here?” She pressed her palms flat against the cold counter leaning forward and letting soft chocolate curls spill over her shoulder.
“Oh, uh, I’m here with Nicholas.” He thumbed over his shoulder towards the town. “He’s here visiting his family, I just tagged along.”
Tagged along.
She should’ve known, of course Noah would be down here with Nick’s family for Christmas. Where else would he be?
“Oh,” She smiled tenderly at his words and nodded. “Of course.”
Every now and then she’d run into Nicholas whenever he came back to town or ran into his parents while out and about, but it was never anything of significance. Whenever it was Nicholas, she wanted more than anything to inquire about Noah or the band but always kept the interactions short, sweet and reserved. The last thing she wanted was to come off as wanting to “catch up” after they gained a larger audience for clout.
He grinned back at her and there was a quiet moment shared between them, as if they both didn’t know what to say. The feeling in the air swung from having nothing to say to having so many words that it was overwhelming to speak.
The gentle moment was broken by the bell dinging above the door as a new customer walked in.
Her first impulse was to make his usual but stopped herself. “Oh um, whatcha want?” She asked, realizing that his tastes had probably changed since he was 16.
“Just a vanilla cold brew is fine, thank you.” He said with a tight-lipped smile, feeling awkward that she was serving him.
She went ahead and filled his cup with the dark amber liquid. “Do you want a snickerdoodle cookie? They’re freshly baked.”
He nods enthusiastically, “Yes please, they’re my favorite.”
She remembered.
Of course, she did.
How could one forget staying up til 2 am at Nick’s house baking cookies and having Top Chef-level trials trying to achieve the perfect spice mixture for what Noah called, “The Most Snick-of-Doodles that could ever Doodle.”
“You got it.” She smiled placing some pastries into a brown paper bag before handing it to him. “I threw in a cinnamon roll for Nicholas, I made sure to give him the one with the most icing.”
“Oh, he’ll love that.” He chuckled gently taking the bag along with his drink. “We should um, catch up soon?”
“Sure.” She pressed her lips together to keep her grin from growing too wide.
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Cold fallen leaves crunched beneath Amelia’s feet as she navigated through a park that she hadn’t stepped foot on in a good ten years. A cool chill made her tug her thick knit cardigan tight around her thin frame.
“Noah?” She delicately whisper-yelled into the darkness, the meet-up destination barely lit by the full ivory moon. She should’ve known that Noah wouldn’t be content with catching up at a restaurant or at her house or anywhere normal.
“Scout!” He replied from the swings a bit to her left. A chuckle left his lips, and he quickly clicked the flashlight on his phone, waving it in the air like a search light.
A deep shade of embarrassment coated her pale cheeks, “There’s no streetlights over here!” She walked over and lightly smacked his arm. “It’s dangerous you know.” The weight of her body creaked the metal frame when she fell into the blue swing seat.
“Or you’re just getting old and need glasses.” He teased with a slight slur riding the end of his words.
“Ha-ha, very funny.” She responded with a playful glare.
She looked over at him thinking how funny it was seeing him so large and full grown in such a tiny, low swing. It looked extremely disproportionate and goofy, like a Great Dane in a shopping cart.
He handed her a bottle of cheap red wine, half drank already.
“Oh, got started without me huh?” She sassed before stealing the bottle from his fingers. “Couldn’t have done beer?” She tips the glass bottle until bitter, dry alcohol infiltrates every tastebud, reminding her why she’d switched to martinis or seltzers in her later years.
He waved her off with a tsk, “Too much hassle. Wine was easier. And you took fuckin’ forever!”
“Right.” She rolled her eyes playfully, it wasn’t like she was all that upset over the wine over beer, just that he drank so much of it already. She pressed the mouth of the bottle to her lips once more taking another hefty swig and handed it back to him. “Where’s Nick?”
“Ah,” He swiped the bottle back and took a long gulp. “You know, family stuff.” He wiped the back of hand across his mouth. “I can only handle – so much of it.” His hands motion off his words. “They mean well I just… can’t do too much of it at once.”
Growing up with parents that were as dismissive and absent, then gone all at once like his, knowing how to “family” was odd and foreign to him. As Noah got older, he began to realize that basic family etiquette was a trait he fundamentally lacked, as if he played hooky on some Family 101 course in his formative years. It wasn’t something he inherently prioritized and, at least when he was younger, it would irritate him when friends or colleagues put family above things that he deemed more important, like band related obligations. He never had to deal with family of his own, put it on his schedule or allot energy for it. He simply didn’t understand it.
Sure, he came off as rude at times, leaving friend’s family events early or mentally checking out mid-day. It wasn’t his fault that it was exhausting and overstimulating for him. To him it seemed natural, as if everyone felt that way, something akin to the universal experience of trying to escape school or work. It never crossed his mind that people might actually enjoy their families, nor could he comprehend the necessity for it.
It depended on who, what and when but for the most part it was exhausting to him. Some groups were better than others, like Nick’s family. Over the years they’d housed him for weeks at a time, months even sometimes. As far as Noah was concerned, the Ruffilo’s were his family. He always came and went as he pleased, always an open-door policy to the Ruffilo refuge. But that didn’t exclude Nick’s family from his unintended ignorance and tendency to run. He just could only take so much at once. Lucky for him, they never seemed to mind his behavior much. They never batted an eye; they understood him for who he was and why. Their house was one of the only places he felt comfortable, one of the only places he ever called home.
“I know.” She nodded, wrapping her hands around the thick swing chains. “I remember.”
“Right.” He replies solemnly, taking another sip before swapping it back.
Vivid memories filled Amelia’s brain of 14-year-old Noah tapping on her window like a freshly escaped felon looking for asylum. The heavy, panicked breathing and glassy eyes never matched the mischievous grin plastered across his face. Holidays were the worst; she recalls keeping her window unlocked during the winter months, so he’d always have an alternative escape. The Ruffilo’s were a festive bunch that took any excuse to celebrate. Naturally, Nicholas also only possessed so much adolescent tolerance to endure so many familial festivities so, he too would sneak away with Noah at times but, for the most part it was just him and Amelia celebrating holidays together on her bedroom floor.  
The air was still between them while she took a couple sips of sanguine liquid trying to catch up to him.
“So, you’re a big ol’ rockstar now huh?” The girl smiled, nudging him with her elbow trying to lighten the mood. Even though the words are positive and light, they tasted so sad on her tongue.
He laughed, something she hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime. She nearly forgot what it sounded like, but it hadn’t changed really, just a little deeper now. His now tattooed hands grasped both metal swing chains and leaned back a little, using the tension to suspend his body while he observed the stars above them. “Not big. Just opening for some real bands now. Finally able to headline our own little tour soon. Fuckin’ took long enough.” He dismissed the compliment immediately, snuffing it into the ground like a shriveled-up cigarette butt.
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his response. He might’ve not seen it as notable accomplishments, but she knew better than to place the validity of success in the hands of someone riddled with imposter syndrome.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think it’s pretty fucking cool.” She leaned against the chain closest to the long-haired boy.
His lips pulled to a smile while his eyes stayed focused on the sky. “Thanks.”
She followed his gaze and chuckled, “Sky’s pretty interesting huh?” She teased.
“It is when you barely get to see stars. I never really get to see them in LA. Sometimes I forget they’re even up there.” He replied sadly before sitting back up.
Amelia took another sip of the almost empty bottle, starting to feel the warmth of alcohol spread through her body. Something about the stars and Noah made a memory cross her mind that made her burst out into a cackle. “Do you remember when you put SO much work into your astronomy project for the science fair and fucking Nicholas won with his fucking-”
“Moldy bread!” They said loudly in unison before erupting into booming laughter.
“God I was so pissed.” Noah shook his head, “And then I had to eat his fucking moldy bread.”
“Oh yeah because you lost the bet! I forgot all about that!” Laughter filled her ribcage in a way it hadn’t in years, and it felt really fucking good.
“I was so fucking sure I’d win! I should’ve known, Nick has always been the golden boy. Teacher’s-pet swindling ass.” He kicked the sand just as he would’ve at 8 years old. It’s funny how people’s mannerisms don’t really change all that much as they age. Being there with him on their old playground felt like being in a time machine. “Worst food poisoning I ever had.”
“Didn’t you borrow the telescope you used from Nick too?” She questioned, wondering if she just made that part up in her head.
“Yeah, yeah I think I did actually.” His brows furrowed as he dug through his memories. “You know what? It’s probably still in their garage!”
“Really? Maybe you can find it tomorrow.” She poured the rest of the wine into her mouth, savoring the cheap bitterness of it pooling on her tongue.
“But the stars are so pretty tonight!” He whined in classic Noah fashion.
“Yeah so? What are you gonna do? Break into their garage?” She chuckled jokingly.
He straightened up and looked over at her with wide eyes like a lightbulb just lit above his head - a look she remembered all too well.
“No.” She warned, just like she would’ve back then at whatever scheme Noah concocted in his devious little brain.
He gave her a familiar mischievous toothy grin before pushing harshly off the swing.
“No, no, no.” She sighed as he already left his seat swinging and made his way towards the street.
“Noah!” She called after him. When he showed no sign of stopping, she let out a long sigh, questioning how she ended up having to stop a 6’4 man from breaking into houses in the middle of the night. She pushed off the swing, leaving it clanging and swaying behind her.
“Noah I’m not br-“ Her yell dulled down to a hush when she caught up to him. “I’m not breaking into the Ruffilo house at midnight!” Her words were stern but to Noah they just sounded like a child’s warning against curse words.
“We’re not breaking in ‘melia.” He didn’t match her whisper, his voice was loud and proud for anyone in the night to hear. “I remember the garage code.” He announced with drunken pride.
She scoffed, “And what if someone hears the garage, Noah? Then what?”
He shrugged, “Nick is staying there, we’ll just say we were trying to see him or something. You know I have free reign there anyway.”
“This is a really shitty plan, Noah.” She crossed her arms over her chest with a displeased frown.
“It’s a great plan.” He stated confidently, walking in long strides that she could barely keep up with. “You know all my plans are great.”
“Hmm.” She hummed skeptically. “Statistically, I don’t think that’s true.”
Walking down the street with Noah to Nick’s family home in the dead of the night felt so… familiar, as if she was walking in the same exact footsteps as 15-year-old Amelia had, like her memories were tangible in her hands again. She tightened her fists slightly to remind herself that the past was not solid in her hands again. She wasn’t 15 again on some spontaneous, teenage adventure – but the alcohol-fueled adrenaline prickling at her fingertips begged to differ.
Even past midnight, the small neighborhood’s Christmas lights shined bright. Normally, she’d find them obnoxious, but tonight they seemed much sweeter, only adding to the nostalgia.
“Oh no? All of my plans worked out one way or another.” He defended as if it was factual with a straightened back and pointed finger. “All but one.”
Her brows knitted tightly together at his words, because in her memory, there was a good chunk of her life spent stuck in detention because of his schemes.
“And which one would that be?” She sassed back, watching as his speed picked up even more after her question.
“Not important.” He waved the brunette off, “C’mon, we’re here.”
Unexpectedly, his hand slips around her wrist, and it wraps tingly electricity up her arm then across her entire body. All at once the butterflies that used to be so perpetually embedded in her stomach returned in a rampant flurry. Her gaze slowly snapped up to meet his face. His smile hadn’t changed in the near 10 years apart and neither did the bright glint in his espresso eyes. Time seemed to slow around them for that split second where the electricity sizzled beneath both their fingertips and their eyes found each other’s just as easily as they used to. In that brief moment she could’ve sworn she was looking into the eyes of rail thin, tattooless teenage Noah.
“I know they got a Ring doorbell, so we gotta hide between the cars.” He whispered and ducked them both down as he weaved her through the vehicles in the driveway.
“I can’t fucking believe you talked me into this Noah!” She whisper-yelled at him, wanting nothing more than to properly reprimand him.
“Sh!”
They finally found themselves in front of the garage keypad conveniently out of view of the doorbell camera. Noah blinked blankly at plastic number pad without moving. His inked fingers tapped on his own crossed arm while his tongue stayed lodged between his lips in thought.
“Well? Go ahead! Get it over with.” She insisted, motioning urgently to the garage wanting it to be over as fast as possible. She tucked her hands across her body and into her sides giving her some semblance of comfort. The last thing she wanted was for their childish midnight antics to wake up the entire house.
“Hey! Give me time.” He rushed back, lifting a finger in her direction to shush her.
“Time? I thought you said you remembered it!”
“I do! …I think… if they haven’t changed it.” His tone much less confident than before.
“Noah!”
“Hush!” He pressed a finger to his lips at her and took a hesitant step towards the keypad. With a couple semi-sure clicks, the garage door slid open slowly. Amelia exhaled in relief at how the metal clangs of the garage were much quieter than she remembered. Still though, they creaked too loud for her liking, feeling embarrassment and anxiety flood her body.
“Yes!” Noah squeezed his fists up in victory. “See, told you I remembered.”
“Lucky guess.” She rolled her eyes with a smile.
Her eyes widened as the garage door unveiled a gorgeous white car. It was by no means a luxury car, not a Lexus or anything of the sort, but a high enough model to make you look twice. “Damn Mama Ruffilo, ridin’ in style now.”
Noah grinned as he scoots around the car. His smile was reserved, like she had discovered some award he was keeping hidden out of modesty. “Yeah, that’s the one we got her for Mother’s Day.”
“We?” She questioned, her head cocking to the side a bit.
“Yeah, Nick and me. We each paid half.”
“Oh wow, that’s really nice of you.” She replied softly. It didn’t take a genius to calculate just how much it would cost two broke DIY touring bandmates to pay for a new car, even in halves. The vehicle was shiny and spotless, evidently well taken care of – the type of care you’d put into a possession you never thought you’d own, the type of care that came from deep gratitude.
“It’s the least I could do for ya know… everything she’s done for me.”
Amelia nodded knowing exactly what he meant. It was no secret that he was more than a family friend to them, but it was nice to see that he recognized it too. While Noah might not have attended every family event or stayed for long, he showed his love and appreciation in his own small ways. Gifts were one of his favorite ways of doing so. Yeah, Noah might’ve only stayed at a Thanksgiving for an hour or two for food, but he was there long enough to make mental notes for next year, to bring extra cranberry sauce because Nick’s abuela loves it or extra croutons since Nick’s mom tends to snack on them while she cooks. He paid attention and he loved deeply, even if it didn’t seem that way on the surface.
He rustled around some miscellaneous garage junk in the corner, making more noise than Amelia felt comfortable with. She stood up on her tip toes to watch carefully him over the pristine car with her heart beating in her chest begging to rush him again.
“Ah! I knew it’d be here!” He said a little too loud out of excitement and promptly covered his mouth. His wide brown eyes met hers in a silent ‘oops, shit, sorry!’ plea.
In desperate need to escape the anxiety inducing mission, Amelia ran to the end of the driveway the second she saw the telescope in Noah’s hand. It took him longer than it should’ve just to snatch the item, but she didn’t question it or investigate much when he sped right past her after the garage began squeaking closed.
They made it out in record time, holding in their laughter until they reached the end of the street. It only took one look at each other to send them into a cackling fit. Amelia’s delicate hands found his thin arm and used him for stability, while the laughter shook her entire frame.
When they make it back to the park, he set down the telescope and unravels something she somehow didn’t notice he was carrying before.
“Did you steal that from their garage?!”
He grinned and proudly pulled another bottle of wine, white this time, from the blanket he also borrowed. “Yeah? And I’ll just replace them when I bring the telescope back tomorrow.” He carefully sat the wine down at her feet and spread out the buffalo-print blanket over the grass.
“You are so bad!” She chuckled, smacking him playfully with the excess of her long cardigan sleeve.
“Isn’t that what girls want? A bad boy?” He smirked jokingly, getting down on his knees to angle the telescope just right so that they didn’t need to stand up to use it.
She pressed her lips together as she watched him. Sure, that’s what some girls want, but not her. Even when he was landing them in detention every other day and keeping them out way past curfew – even when everyone else considered him a “bad boy” – she knew he wasn’t, not really.
Even now, whenever he got on stage, covered in ink, growling like a demon – she knew he wasn’t, and has never been, “bad”. Not the way she knew him. Amelia had a talent for seeing through people and she always saw right through Noah, from the first time she ever saw him in the back of her 3rd grade class. And all through adolescence, she saw him clearly through all his stormy confliction and thick brick walls.
Noah never saw it of course; how could he believe that someone as sugary sweet as Amelia could possibly ever see him as anything more than comical the social mask he wore with friends. In fact, he would even go as far to believe his mask was thickest and most opaque around her. Whether or not that was factual, didn’t lessen her ability to see him, really see him.
Being told you’re so wrong for so long, makes you believe that no one could ever see you as right. No matter how many friends Noah had at his parties, or fans in his crowds or girls in his bed, he never felt as though anyone saw him as enough. He got so exhausted from constantly trying to outdo himself that sometimes he forgot what exactly he was trying to accomplish.
Amelia never once believed the “bad influence, bad boy” propaganda their parents or teachers ever accused him of. To her, he was just Noah; the weird emo kid in the back of her classes, the neighbor down the street, the other older “brother” of the youngest girl scout in her troop. Amelia knew Noah at his core.
“Ah, bad boys are overrated.” She waved off his words casually.
He turned and gave her an unconvinced look, “Yeah, sure.” he glared playfully before sitting back on his legs. “Well, it’s ready if you wanna look.”
Amelia crawled across the blanket to meet him and peered through the telescope. Billions of tiny stars flooded the glass lens with twinkles and glimmers you’d never be able to see normally. Fluffy white clouds interrupted the view every so often, but it didn’t take away from the breathtaking scene.
“Whoa.” She mouthed quietly, just taking in the sight. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Sure is.” Noah agreed quietly, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them while he watched her.
They took some turns looking out of the telescope and passing the wine bottle back and forth before finally resting side by side on the picnic fabric. The air around them both was full of dwindling laughter over Noah telling silly stories about him and Nicholas and their roommates in LA. At surface level, he seemed to be doing well, despite claiming to hate LA, he appeared to be thriving there. Perhaps it was just the roommates that he enjoyed living with. Noah was never one to enjoy solitude, at least not for long periods of time. When he lived in their hometown, he was rarely wherever he was staying at the time. Getting comfortable anywhere was never his goal or motive. For the most part, it seemed like he enjoyed the constant change, the running. However, the way he talked about their home in California, all the stories he shared that brought the grandest smile to his face or the loudest boom from his chest all took place at their home. Amelia wondered what it must feel like for him to be back in their dreary little town, and if he rattled off all those stories was because he was homesick.
As the space between them flooded with a silence that was equally comfortable and uncomfortable, a question bubbled up that had been eating at Amelia from the moment she laid eyes on the tired darkness hanging beneath Noah’s eyes. His grin for most of the night was wide and toothy but she knew him better than that.
“So,” She turned her head towards him. “How are you, really?”
His eyes stayed transfixed on the stars above and he let a dense quiet settle over them before speaking.
“It must get so exhausting.” He stated, ignoring her question all together.
Her brows furrowed at his words, “What does?”
“Being so bright all the time.” He stated flatly, with a low dejected tone lacing his words.
“The stars?” She questioned with her brows still knitted.
“Sure. The Moon, the cosmos, all of it.” He brought his hands to interlace over his tummy. “Sure, the moon gets a break during the day and gets to disappear for a bit every month. And the stars get to die eventually.
“Right…?”
“But a star’s entire existence is to be bright - they only exist to be bright and then die. The moon works every night to serve as a giant nightlight and to shift some waves around. It must be so exhausting, all of it – being so bright all the time just to burn out into nothing.”
Noah had always been good at avoiding both his feelings and Amelia’s prying questions. It seemed age and time hadn’t changed that specific skill set. Maybe it’s true what they say, people never really change. It worried her that he might’ve not changed at all in that way.
“I mean,” She shifted her head to face the stars again trying to find the answers in the same place he was getting the questions. “You’re not wrong… but, think about the good that they do. The moon does so much on its own for us, you know the tides, the earth’s axis and all that. But we wouldn’t even be here staring at the sky without it all. They’re pretty and,” She shrugs. “And maybe, sometimes, that’s enough.”
“Right.” He responded curtly, pausing a long while before speaking again. “If the moon had consciousness… do you think it would care that most people know it for being pretty and not for being good at its job?” He pondered, not once looking over at the girl, perhaps afraid that his façade would crumble, and he’d spill the truth if he met her eyes.
Amelia’s brows furrowed together once more as she processed his words, doing mental gymnastics to decipher the underlying meaning. Another skill set Noah possessed was being dramatically cryptic, especially when it came to his internal turmoil. Whenever he had some battle waging within him, he suddenly transformed into a makeshift philosopher.
Looking the way he does, it’s fair to assume that his band had garnered recent attention due to his looks – most men would revel in the fleeting female attention, but not Noah. At least not enough to keep him from being contemplative on the lawn of their old park.
Girls or not, Noah had always been particular about his craft. He was lucky he found Nicholas first since he really let Noah take reigns of the entire operation. Like a true perfectionist, Noah carefully curated every song, every show, every rehearsal – even back when they were just playing in Nick’s garage with shitty amps.
Amelia analyzed his words, thinking over her response carefully. “I think the moon would be grateful for the attention either way.” She commented gently. “As long as she’s doing the job she’s meant to do, her beauty getting noticed is just a bonus. As long as she’s doing what she’s destined to do, I think she’d be content doing whatever she needs to, regardless of the affection towards her.”
“Yeah, I guess she would.”
Looking up at the sky, Amelia noticed just how round the moon was that night and how perfectly it was centered in the sky. It looked like the inside of a circus tent, like the star littered sky was just a patterned fabric pierced right in the middle by a giant moon-shaped hole. It felt like it too – as if they were the only ones in some carnival tent far away from anything bad. Below such a vast cosmos, they were just tiny specs of dust in the universe, and she was grateful for the temporary solitude. After years of not even being around Noah, he still made her feel the same. He had a knack for dissolving any real-life problems when they were alone together. When she was with him, she was in a world of their own making. She wondered if she did the same for him, and for his sake, she really hoped she did.
But alas, the bubble they created together that night was not one that could exist forever, and the big top tent must come down after a grand show.
Amelia and Noah ran out of words, at least ones meant to be said that night. They laid side by side with her right hand and his left not even a centimeter apart.
Noah was unaware of whether it was fear, nerves or sadness that fueled the drumming beneath his brittle ribs, but that same force also tugged an invisible string to lift his pinky.
Amelia’s eyes rounded and every muscle in her body tensed up the millisecond she felt him move up and hover over her own pinky.
But before he got the chance to lock over her finger, there was a frightening rustling behind some playground equipment followed by a bright light aimed right at them, blinding the pair.
“Hey! You kids aren’t allowed in here!” Boomed a deep, authoritative voice.
Amelia propped herself up on an elbow and immediately used her arm as a shield to keep the blinding light from burning her retinas any further.
Noah closed his eyes and let out a deep breath through his nose. It was one of the many familiar sounds from the town Noah hoped to never hear again.
“Sebastian? What an unpleasant surprise.” The voice taunted with a vicious edge.
“Officer Hawke.” The eyeroll was thick in Noah’s voice. “So great to see you.”
The big burly man shifted the flashlight beam to Noah directly. “Not shocking that the first time I see you back in town you’re up to no good.” He moved the light back to Amelia’s face. “Also, not shocking that you’ve reunited with your old partner in crime. Corrupting Miss. Alastor again, are we?”
“Officer, we just fell asleep earlier, we didn’t mean to be here so late.” Amelia lied for Noah like she always had. Her and Nick had been the goodie-two-shoes that were always bailing or covering for the long-haired boy. Well, Amelia was truly good, Nick was just skilled at masking his deviant tendencies, using his sweet golden-boy allure to fool everyone. As much as she hated breaking the rules, she secretly loved when Noah enabled it. Her teenage years wouldn’t have been nearly as fun or memorable without the two mischievous boys. Even just lying in the park with Noah after dark made her feel the most alive she’d had in years. It was exhilarating, no matter how much she reprimanded the boy for his reckless rebellion.
“Mhm. Sounds about right, you covering for Mr. Sebastian here, for god knows why.” He speculated, unconvinced. “It’s like I stepped back in time. It seems you both haven’t changed much.”
While the cop had been berating the two, Noah had already began packing up the picnic trying to end the interaction as quickly as possible.
“Sorry officer, it won’t happen again.” She lied.
“Sure.” He retorted. “Get you and your boyfriend out of here. Don’t let me catch you in here again.”
With that he turned and headed back to his vehicle. It was surprising that he just left the pair– not surprising that he just sat and watched them from the comfort of his cop car across the street.
Amelia helped Noah pack everything up before they made their escape from the park. Shortly after they were down the street, the cop car finally drove off. She walked in the direction of her house, thinking that Noah would part ways to maybe head towards Nick’s house to return the stolen items or to Vince’s where he was staying for the time being, but he stayed walking alongside her. He was quiet, which for Noah was strange, especially with her.
“You know, you don’t have to walk me home? I know you’re staying in the opposite direction.” She said, stuffing her cold hands in her pockets.
“I want to. It’s dangerous for you to walk alone.” He replied flatly, kicking a pebble across the sidewalk concrete.
Her house wasn’t particularly far from the other two’s, nothing in the tiny town was necessarily far from each other. With a town as small as theirs, a night walk home wouldn’t usually be considered dangerous.
“Well, thanks.” She replied cautiously.
She let her mind wander to the interaction they had at the park with Officer Hawke. Noah’s mood had been fairly consistent all night up until then. She mentally scolded herself for not realizing that running into the overly familiar cop would affect his demeanor. Maybe she just assumed that after so many years into adulthood he’d be over it, but evidently, it was foolish and incredibly mindless for her to believe so.
The rest of the walk was silent, just filled with the sounds of nature in the winter. The crisp cool air zipping with the wind, crashing into every solid object available while owls coo-ed into the darkness.
Finally, they arrived at the chain-link gate of Amelia’s small home. She rested her arm atop the pointy wires of the fence. Any other night she’d probably invite him in, but it was so late and all of the night’s events had already been enough to overfill her tummy with static-y nerves.
“Well, I-“ They fumble over each other’s words. Warmth blooms across Amelia’s cheeks at the joint misstep.
“You go.” She urged.
“No, you go.” He pushed back with a sheepish grin.
A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and dropped her attention down to her feet. “I was just gonna say that this was… nice.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “It was really nice to see you again Noah.” Her tone soft and genuine, as her eyes meet his again.
He was unprepared for how her eyes looked with the moonlight shining directly into them. He couldn’t remember the last time he looked into them so clearly. He forgot how different they were from each other, well, they weren’t really – but they were when one spent looking at them as intently as Noah had since he was 8 years old. Her eyes were both a hazel but one much more brown while the other had a pretty emerald hue.
“Yeah, it was really nice.” His words sounded true, but his voice was still strained by the sadness from the walk there. “I’m really happy I went into the shop this morning.”
Her lips worked overtime to keep from pulling into a giant grin and suddenly she was grateful for the darkness hiding the red staining her cheeks. “Yeah, me too.”
Noah sucked in a breath to speak but pauses, before returning again, “Um - Nick’s family is throwing their annual Christmas party this weekend, I’m sure he and the Ruffilo clan would love to see you.” He stated with his words moving slightly faster than normal almost like he was nervous to even ask, which is silly isn’t it? Being anxious to invite an old friend to a holiday party you both attended every year growing up? It shouldn’t be that nerve wreaking, right? He scratched the back of his neck. “If you want that is.”
Her eyes nearly light up enough to cut through the darkness. “Yeah,” She beamed a sweet smile up at him.  “I think I’d really like that.”
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taglist; @lma1986 @alastriaa @missduffsblog @xxkittenkissesxx @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens @measuredingold @jilliemiw86
A/N; thank you so much for reading - again this is my first time writing in 3rd person so i hope it was decent! i hope you enjoyed even though it is definitely not christmas time lmao - lmk what you think! 💗
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kerubimcrepin · 2 days
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Liveblog - Dofus, livre 1 : Julith [PART 10]
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These sweets are so appetizing...
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Due to the way this stall looks, I am assuming that these are types of candy that ouginaks and ecaflips love, and not literal animal food. Tragic.
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Things Joris wants forgiveness for: leaving a bestie with cops (after she asked him to leave), disobeying his father after he folded on their plans for 99th time, telling his father that he's CRINGE and FAIL using his real cringe fail moments, and running away while having a mental breakdown.
Danmn he's so evil and bad for this fr fr......
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Anyway, I think Joris's love language is gift giving and acts of service, and Kerubim's is words of affirmation and gift giving.
(This is wild ass headcanon territory because Atcham is a rarer character, but: Atcham's are acts of service and quality time. Source? It came to me in a vision.)
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The street signs in this movie are killing me.
The Dofus Pets 2 ad says Dofus Pets 2.
Cute ad! It looks familiar though...
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There ain't no way that these two pieces of art don't use some of the same reused assets...., I refuse to believe in that reality.
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Joris is dissociating and Khan is trying to get his dick wet. Their friendship is so special.
By the way, the fact that they cut the "Khan makes/lets Joris do underage drinking, with many horny Khan-loving women present" scene still haunts me. Why? Why must have they forsaken me this way...
I still believe Khan bought Joris alcohol on regular until the guy was finally 18. I want to live in a world where Khan helped suicidally depressed 14yo Joris have a "coffee with cognac in the morning, chicken with cognac in the evening" lifestyle, and it's like one of the reasons Joris is still alive or something.
My other thought on the topic is that Atcham (imagine him being physically 4yo in this scenario), taught Joris how to smoke cigars. And then he had the shit beaten out of him by Kerubim (also 4 years old).
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This is like his 60th divorce.
And he's never even been married.
Man.
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The reaction to the door opening is IMMEDIATE.
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THE PLATONIC DIVORCE #61 HAS BEEN CALLED OFF. But genuinely, it's so cute seeing how happy he is...
Joris thinking these things about him is his worst nightmare. AND the little guy is in danger. So, chances are, for a few hours he spent time thinking about how bad of a father he is, and how it's his fault that Joris is god-knows-where and in danger and also HATES him and will NEVER forgive him.
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AND the disciplinary action he takes is just so chill and cute... (cough-cough, my own thoughts on whether Joris was based for this aren't relevant, because 1. he ran off god knows where and children shouldn't do that, and 2. even though his grievances are valid, he did bring them up as hurtfully as possibly, with some really fucked and irrelevant things too, just to make Keke feel pain at that moment. Which is not something one should get in the habit of.)
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Your agonized twitching and worried faces have both bewitched me heart and soul.
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He's literally still infant/toddler sized... So small, compared to Lilotte...
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Sometimes, we say horrible things, when we're angry. They love each other so much... They're both willing to look past all the imperfections.... (throws up on the carpet like a cat)
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No commentary, I just like seeing him afraid.
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She and Kerubim have beef, as has been mentioned in many past posts.
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Bakara does her fighting with the same icy, emotionless expression, that she had during her conversation with Kerubim at the bar. This is her "I am going to kill everyone in this building" resting face for when Julith is mentioned.
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Kerubim is SHOCKED by how fast she leaped into combat. Also, I want to think, disappointed. This is too dangerous of an enemy to spring into action like that, simply out of rage, while having literally no combat experience...
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Because like, Kerubim and Julith are veterans of a war/multuiple wars.
While Bakara is a 20~yo, freshly graduated, alcoholic nepo-baby.
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Let it be known I don't like Julith. She is a fun character to watch, but... I feel like the fandom treats her as someone who's done no wrong, despite all the evidence we are given to believe that she is a horrible person.
She was framed, and she did love Jahash, but that doesn't take away from anything else. She beat the shit out of Bakara here, even though she could have restrained her much more gently, — she dug into Bakara's insecurities and called her a poor little fool too.
I really doubt Jahash would have liked that. (Same for her plans of killing a thousand people though, so, I really doubt she gives a shit about his wishes at this point.)
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She does THIS SHIT. Jesus christ! Maybe, just maybe, she would know of your feelings, because she loves him just as much? Maybe that's why she wants to kill you as much as you want to kill everyone in Bonta? Have you thought about that, you hot topic customer-looking edgelord?
Besides her hypocrisy, she was known for her ruthlessness, even before the war. There's a reason they still call her a butcher. Which is why I kinda dislike how often this stuff is swept under the rug by fans making cute content.
...I do support women's rights, but I also support women's wrongs, and Julith has a lot of those. She's tragic, but also evil.
Unlike someone like Nox, she makes no effort to empathize or connect with people who oppose her, and knows no mercy. At the very least, Nox had a twisted sense of morals, and could whip out an epic "you're just like me fr...." during a battle.
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lenny-1of2dads · 2 days
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The bus dropped Franky off at 3 PM it was now almost nine PM and no sign of his dad. He has been calling every thirty minutes and getting no answer. His mom is back in New Jersey. She will talk to Catholic Charities tomorrow. She suggests going to a Denny's order something to eat, and hang out until in the morning. With about forty dollars left the security guard gave him directions two a coffee bar two blocks down and one block left.
The waiters name was Josh, I got coffee grilled cheese and fries. He wasn't busy so he came back. He ask me if I was running away from home. I explain my dad did not pick me up from the bus station, and he is not answering his phone. He ask where he lived and he googled it on his cell phone. It was 10 miles from downtown going north. He said I was welcome to stay there and he will give me a ride to my dad's house when he gets off at six am.
I was falling asleep despite the amount of coffee I had drank. He takes me out to his car unlocks the back seat and hands me a travel pillow. Stating he will be out after 6 am and take you to your dads house. If I cannot sleep or wake back up come back inside. I must admit I was grateful and fell asleep right away.
I woke up to sunlight , he was not off work yet and I had to use the bathroom. I go inside straight to the restroom. God did I feel better, that was like three pots of coffee. I go to wash my hands and Josh shows up with the manager. That what his name tag said. The three of us in the restroom was weird. Josh explains this is his dad. They want to get a table and talk to me about something. On the way Josh tells his family owns the coffee shop. He is the manager from 10 to 6 am. His older brother does swing shift. Both his parent works day shift which is four times busier.
The scoop was they had the police do a wellness check at my dad's house. Just to find out he is in jail for five months for battery. he got in a bar fight two nights ago. There is a possibly after talking to my dad I could get access to his house. The cops were working on it. The police show up and take me to the Jail. My dad had released his personal belonging to them to give to me. Two cops gave me a ride unlocked the door and checked the whole house out before letting me in. Dad had a bunch of weed now legal on the coffee table, and booze but zero laundry detergent, or toilet paper.
I got to say Catholic Charities hooked me up with food and help get dads utilities paid up to date. I spent the weekend cleaning it up, it was kind of gross in some places. My mother sends me some money and helps me get a cell phones of my own. I have been here four days. A box of clothes we mailed finally arrives at 8 am UPS. Then thirty minutes later Josh shows up at my door with two White chocolate Mochas and cheese danish. He had just got off work was worried about me. He has saved my address and had the next two days off if I need transportation, or help.
Human contact. I had not seen Josh in three days. I had this weird feeling come over me I was so happy to see him. I invite him in he puts the coffees and danish on the table as I follow behind him. He sees the three bags of trash by the back door ask's how bad it was. He show me how to find out when the trash gets picked up.
Huddled together looking at his cell phone screen he has the longest eyelashes I have seen on a guy. The whitest teeth and dimples. He notices I am staring and smiles and backs off a little. I bring him back for a kiss. An another. He takes over and gives me a few. On freshly clean sheets on a just made bed I lose my virginity to guy who was doing the same thing with me. Weird that neither of us knew that until weeks later in conversation.
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I had the use of my dads car providing I could keep putting gas in the tank. The night manager of a coffee house has me fill out an application, and gives me an interview. Not sure why I was so nervous. I had the job and he was just performing for his parents. it was just a chance to ask me a bunch of questions. Like what I like best about our sex life. What do you want to do that we haven't. What happens to us when your dad get released? How do you feel about finding an apartment together? Marriage, Children? All I can think about is what is going to happen when we get home tonight.
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1of2dads AI generated Art. Franky and Josh
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Aye yo does anyone have an itemized list of what bisexuals are allowed to complain about when it comes to representation or do we have to remain the "silent sexuality" that is a stepping stone between being straight and being gay so we just can't complain or say anything and just have to accept not having representation or just can't complain about the lack there of?
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aaaaaaah
#i feel so guilty about this thing but it’s not really my fault but it’s a little bit my fault#this girl at work who works at the same business but not in the same department as me was asking if she could use the machine#and i was like??? do you know how to use this machine???#and she was like yeah i use them all the time at school and i was like okay well#i mean technically no but if no one catches you who’ to say#and she was like oh i don’t want to be a troublemaker or anything and i was like well you could ask my manager about it if you want but#the answer is probably no but like i said no one is ever paying attention up here so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#and she was like well can you help me with the alts and i was like yeah sure! bring your dress and i’ll take a look at it#but if it’s a lot of work i might have to charge you#and she was like okay yeah!#and then i just found out that she not only did not know how to use the machine#but she tried to CALL THE OTHER TAILORS TO HELP HER USE IT#and when they told her no you can’t use this she ARGUED WITH THEM AND TOLD THEM I SAID SHE WAS ALLOWED#and like bitch???????#what the actual fuck i trusted you?????#i feel bad but i’m not going to lose my job over this i will throw you completely under the bus and say you’re a total liar#like i literally told you it’s not allowed and don’t get caught like the fuck????#you don’t both call the cops on yourself and also tell them the name of some rando who told you to do it#ugh anyway i was so stressed and it’s fine bc no one believes her bc that would be insane#but i feel guilty like i should have just said no and not trusted her and i don’t want her to get fired or anything but also what the fuck#anyway sorry for the dump lmao i just need to get it off my chest
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tonycries · 2 months
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Three's a Crowd (But Four...) - G.S.
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Synopsis. “So, are they like holograms? Or can you really touch them?” “Why? Trynna cop a feel, sweetheart?” In which you and your boyfriend find very unconventional uses for his powers.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, foursome (but they’re all Satoru + you LMFAO), NSFW, unprotected sex, double penetration, spit-roasting, face-sitting, doggy, missionary, anal, pet names (sweetheart, pretty, babe), oral sex (male + female receiving), overstimulation (female), swearing, slight breeding kink, cum (like lots).
Word count. 3.0k 
A/N. A lil' sum while I get on with a 10k arranged marriage fic. H O R N Y >>> actual JJK technicalities. 
Jokes, but idc what that technique was, I took that one chapter and ran with it. Art by @_3aem on X.
Cross-posted on AO3
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“They just nerfed Naruto in Boruto cuz they knew he’d be too DILF-y.”
“Amen.” 
Sprawled out on Satoru’s couch, both of you were fixated on the Naruto episode playing on-screen. It wasn’t anything new for a Friday night. His soft hairs tickling your chin, and legs dangling off the other end of the couch as he lay atop, cuddling you like a 6’3 housecat. 
Times like this, it’s easy to forget that your boyfriend constantly bears the burden of being “the strongest”. That is- until Satoru, eyes still locked onto the screen, speaks up “I can do that too, y’know.”
You turn to look at Satoru, “Do what?”
He nods his head towards the screen - now showing young Naruto mastering his iconic technique. “You could call it Shadow Clone Jutsu.” he hums.
Raising a brow, “So you could make tens of thousands of Satoru clones? The world may never know rest.”
Eyes brimming with smugness, he grins “Something like that.”
You cock your head, wanting to know more, “So, are they like holograms? Or can you really touch them?”
“Why? Trynna cop a feel, sweetheart?” he wiggles his brows in a way that would definitely be creepy if it was anyone but Satoru.
“You wish.”
Satoru huffs out a laugh, before going back to using your breasts as his personal cushions. “Not quite clones or holograms, they’re still me. But also not really, y’know?” he murmurs.
“Ahh. No.”
The conversation dwindles into a comfortable silence.
Or so you’d think. But the air was charged with something, and - knowing Satoru - you had an inkling it didn’t bode well for you down there.
As quickly as you suspected, he turns the TV off and turns to you with twinkling eyes.
“Toru...” you reproach.
He whines dramatically, “Come onnnn. Don’t they say the best way to learn is hands-on experience?”
“You just have ulterior motives, Toru.” 
“Hell yeah, I do.” he mutters into the valley of your breasts. Satoru peeks at you through his thick lashes, eyes bright with mischief. 
How could you say no to those eyes? And, well, you’d be lying if you said that the idea of multiple Satorus didn’t make your pussy clench in excitement.
That’s how you found yourself here.
Shirts thrown across the room and splayed out on Satoru’s overpriced silk bed sheets. You gasp in pleasure as he leaves hot, open-mouthed kisses on your neck.
Wrapping your legs around his waist, he rocks into you, pushing you deeper into the plush bed. Your pussy drips with anticipation as you feel the outline of his rock-hard cock straining against his sweatpants.
Hooking two fingers under your waistband, he swiftly pulls off your panties along with your shorts. “Already so wet and ready f’me…” he groans out. Quickly shuffling your bodies around, “C’mon sweetheart.” 
Now, Satoru knows he has a pretty face - too well, in fact, he uses it to his advantage to get his way with you too much. And he thinks there’s nothing that makes his face prettier than you on it.
It’s why he has you bent over and straddling his head. The tighter you squeeze him, the better.
One arm holds you in place while the other spreads your folds. Satoru teases your entrance with a finger, gathering your wetness before popping it into his mouth. He groans sinfully as he tastes you. “Fuck- always so good for me.”
You slowly put your weight onto him, failing against the strong arm that pulls you to sit on him properly. 
Satoru moans around your cunt as he finally dives nose-deep into it. Languidly, he licks long stripes against your folds, purposefully catching your clit in the process. “Hah- Fuck. Toru, more!”
Satisfied with your whines, he finally slides his tongue inside your dripping pussy, fucking you with his mouth till his cock twitches for friction.
You notice, and urgently shuffle his sweatpants down. Satoru’s cock stands achingly hard, precum dripping enticingly along the vein on the side of it. You lean down to kiss the shaft, delighting in his noises that send vibrations down to your clit. 
As you take his blushing red head into your mouth, Satoru increases his abuse on your cunt.
You arch your back further into his face - moaning around his thick cock. He starts fucking into your mouth steadily, forcing you to take more and more of his length. Drool drips down the corners of your mouth, “Mmm Toru- Feels so good.”
If one Satoru makes you feel this good…what would two feel like?
As if reading your mind - you wouldn’t be surprised if he actually could - Satoru pulls away slightly, ropes of spit still connecting him to you.
“Ready, sweetheart?” he murmurs lowly, hot breath making your cunt quiver.
And before you can respond, the hairs on your body raise as the air stills with the crackle of jujutsu. You remove yourself from Satoru’s cock with a wet pop! Looking up to see…those cerulean eyes. 
Another set.
“Toru…” you drone out, turning behind to glare at Satoru - who was now placing innocent kisses to your dripping pussy. His eyes peek out with visible amusement, “Jus’ say the word and I’ll stop.”
Satoru knew he had you cornered. He’d fully felt the way your walls clenched around his tongue once you saw the other version of him. This was going to be fun.
Harshly rolling his tongue against your clit, he lightly smacks your ass - signaling you to pay attention to the other Satoru in front of you now. 
So you do.
It was quite surreal seeing an exact copy of your boyfriend grinning down devilishly at you. He cups the back of your head, bringing you closer to him. “Don’t be scared, pretty. It’s jus’ me.” 
At first, you were unsure of what to do, the only thing you know being that - clone or not - this one was just as well-endowed as your boyfriend.
Experimentally, you press soft kisses to his hot tip, relishing in his drawn-out groan. You take him in deeper, tonguing the slit in the way you knew your boyfriend liked. “Yeah- Jus’ like that.”
He tightens his grip on your head. Pumping your Satoru with one hand, you use the other to steady yourself as your mouth gets used as the other’s own personal fucktoy. 
Shit. This was heaven.
Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you pull away, “Hngh- Toru, feels so fucking good.” Mewling at the stimulation on your cunt as well as the depravity of the act, you grind your hips deeper into Satoru’s mouth - searching for your high. 
Soon, you feel that familiar snap in your stomach. Satoru uses his fingers to spread your lips as you cum all over his tongue. He laps up your juices with lewd squelching sounds as his clone fucks your face deeper. Nose meeting his snowy white pubes and balls hitting your chin, you choke from both the position and Satoru’s relentless tongue. 
“Yeah, cum all over my tongue, sweetheart.”
You ride out your high on Satoru’s pretty face, slick spreading all over his mouth and nose. With a final kiss to your cunt, he shifts your legs and moves to tower over from behind. 
Removing yourself from the other’s cock, you look over your shoulder to see your boyfriend sensually pumping himself, readying to enter your eager pussy.
“Hey now, eyes on me, pretty.” A long finger moves your chin so that you face the Satoru in front of you. Seems that no matter what, every Satoru was a little possessive over you.
He rubs his dripping tip on your face, smearing his precum as a gloss before fucking into your mouth once more. 
Almost at the same time, Satoru fully rams his cock inside your pussy without any warning, tip kissing your cervix.
 “Shit. Always taking me in so good, sweetheart.” he huffs out as your walls flutter around his length.
You groan loudly around the cock in your mouth, partly from the pain of being unprepared and partly from the pleasure of getting what you wanted the most - both ends filled by your loving boyfriend.
Your eyes were dazed as you stare doe-eyed up at the Satoru that was plunging into your mouth mercilessly - the other fucking your hole at a similar pace. Strangled yelps leave your mouth as his balls sinfully slap against your clit. 
The room fills with loud, wet noises, and the slapping of skin. Both Satorus hunch over you in pleasure, muscles rippling. Your cunt quivers in an almost-animalistic way at the small grunts falling from their pretty lips.
You whine as he finds that one spot inside you which makes you see stars every time his hips meet yours. One hand - you were too far gone to recognize whose - reaches under you to draw harsh circles on your clit.
Tears spring to your eyes at the sheer overstimulation, and you rock your hips to meet his powerful cadence. One of your hands reaches for the other’s hip for stability, nose meeting his pelvis nails dragging along the soft skin. He grips your hair tighter, lips bitten and swollen at the stimulation.
From the way your pussy was clenching, you knew it wouldn’t be long before you were cumming again.
Now, throughout his life, Satoru has been called crazy many times. Crazy powerful, crazy handsome (in front of the mirror), and just downright mad. But it’s right about now - watching as you choke and cry around his own dick as he plows into you from behind - that he truly thinks he just might actually be a little crazy.
Slowing to shallow rocks, he focuses on his technique. 
Satoru basks in amusement when your whines of disappointment at his slowing pace die down as you register the tugging and sucking on your nipples from below.
You gasp as you break away from the Satoru in front of you and look down, breath catching in your chest as you realize that your boyfriend has conjured up another clone of himself. 
He was going to be the death of you.
“Pay attention, sweetheart.” you hear from behind you as Satoru starts up his relentless rhythm once more, hand now moving to squeeze and spread your ass. 
You knew where this was going, and you didn’t mind it one bit.
The stretch of your cunt as it adapted to Satoru’s length burned almost as much as your nipples as his clone continued to bite and tease them. “Feels good, babe?” he sighs around your breasts. Yet your whines of pleasure are quickly muffled by the flushed tip kissing your lips once more. 
“Hope you didn’t forget about me, pretty.” 
“More- Hngh, Toru!” you whine, not sure which Satoru you were addressing anymore . All three of them speed up their motions, the pleasure from all points pushing you over the edge.
You as you cum fast and hard. 
But your Satoru(s) don’t let you have a moment’s rest as your orgasm is quickly overshadowed by your boyfriend’s hands on your ass. Teasingly drawing circles around the rim. You shiver, hole quivering at the cold feeling of his saliva hitting you. 
His cock still ramming into your abused cunt, Satoru enters a finger into your ass. Using his spit and your slick from before to stretch you out till he’s satisfied. “Fuck- Taking me so good, sweetheart.” he moans out at the sight of you being stretched out from all ends by him and only him.
You continue mewling as the pleasure overtakes you. He was going to ruin you.
Half-delirious from all the stimulation, you barely hear the lowly “Ready, babe?” from below you before Satoru pulls out and suddenly you’re flipped. Easily manhandled by your boyfriend, your head lolls against his replica’s strong shoulder as you’re caressed from three sides once more.
“Feeling alright, sweetheart?” your boyfriend rasps from above. Now hot and bothered once more from how your loving boyfriend was using you like a ragdoll, you gasp out “Yeah, Toru. Need you so bad.”
“Oh yeah?” he grins, lining himself up with your pulsing pussy. “Tell me how badly you want me in all your tight lil’ holes.”
You choke out a sob at the way your Satoru was teasing your folds with his thick cock. “So bad- Need you so bad Toru. Want you to fill me up everywhere.” 
Arching your back, you grind your ass against the furiously hard cock prodding at your asshole. Hearing choked gasps from below you, your pussy clenches in anticipation around nothing. To Satoru, your arousal is almost palpable - as strong as the cursed technique in the air surrounding you two.
And that seems to be what finally makes Satoru snap before he sheathes himself entirely in your dripping cunt. Your strangled moans are cut off by the other Satoru slowly bullying himself into your other hole.
“Ah- Ah!” you yelp in both pain and pleasure as you’re stretched to your limits. You feel full. So full. You were going to snap - like a rubber band - and your boyfriend was going to be reveling in his success. The man in question furrows his brows, groaning at the sweet feeling of his pretty lil’ girlfriend being so tight.
A single tear streaming down your face is gently brushed away as a pair of muscular thighs come to rest beside your face. “Shhh, pretty. You can take it.”  
Both of them start moving carefully.
Satoru would never admit it, but feeling his own dick stretch you out twofold has been a little fantasy tucked in a deep, dark corner of his mind ever since he realized the nefarious purposes his technique could be used for.
He could feel his other version pumping into you from behind as he ruts into your cunt mindlessly. The friction mixed with the gummy wetness of your pussy was mind-blowing - fuck, he really should have watched Naruto with you sooner.
Satoru gazes at you through half-lidded eyes as you press kittenish pecks to his clone’s cock above you. You stare right into your boyfriend’s eyes as you take the length into your mouth once more, inch by inch. Nose meeting his pelvis.
Shit. Satoru feels like he could pass out - whether from seeing the sinful image of all your holes filled by him or from the excessive use of his cursed technique, he doesn’t question. Your walls flutter, struggling to take him both.
Fuck, he really feels like he’s gonna explode.
Satoru pulls out fully before harshly thrusting into you once more, keeping up a pace that has his abs burning and you struggling for air. He sees another tear fall delicately down your cheek.
“My girl takes me so well, huh? Fuck. Made jus’ for me, sweetheart.”
The air was stagnant with the smell of sex and jujutsu. 
All three Satorus thrust into you fiercely, the bed creaking furiously. Satoru has half a mind to worry about whether it would break down in the middle of all this. How inconvenient that would be, he’s so close. 
It was animalistic, the way you could just sit there and take it as your boyfriend used you in all sorts of ways you never deemed possible. 
You’re pretty sure your body is completely bruised and raw at this point. Eyes fluttering shut, tears cling to your lashes as you’re filled up. Your brain, as well as your holes, were overwhelmed with only Satoru Satoru Satoru. If your mouth wasn’t suckling on his length, you’re sure you’d be screaming loud enough for Satoru’s neighbor’s to file a noise complaint.
Good. So good.
Feeling that sharp tug on your stomach again, your legs flail as you steadily reach your climax. Held down by three sets of large hands - all caressing you relentlessly in various ways - you finally cum with an exhausted whimper.
Brain foggy and eyes unfocused, you barely feel the twitch of Satoru’s cock. 
With a throaty moan, all three versions of your boyfriend cum - not one pulling out. Your senses are overtaken as Satoru doesn’t relent his pace, fucking his cum deeper and deeper into your abused pussy.
Ah- He felt he was gonna fuck another Gojo into you. Carry on his legacy. Shut those old cows up about a Gojo heir.
You’d look so round and beautiful with his kids. 
“Only I get to cum in this pussy.” he drawls out as he keeps rutting his sensitive cock into you. Low whines get stuck in his throat as he loses himself in the feeling of your tight walls coated in his semen. His other versions were also at their limit, shooting out thick streams of cum to paint your face and ass. 
You were so beautiful like this. Fucked out and covered in his seed. 
His and only his.
As you slowly come to your senses, the first thing you feel is wet. Not from your own slick, but from Satoru’s thick cum - it was everywhere, decorating your lips, your tits, all the way down to your holes below. 
The second thing you feel is raw. You weren’t too sure anymore that you’d be able to make it to that family dinner tomorrow, Satoru had absolutely gone all out tonight. 
Laying there, willing yourself to move, you flinch as something soft and wet touches your legs. “Shhh…easy there, sweetheart. Get some rest, I’ll take care of it.” you hear the soothing whisper of your one and only boyfriend. 
You muster up the strength to look up and see his gentle smile. “Rest.” he breathes out as he continues to wipe you down. In the back of your mind you register the distinct lack of the other presences of your boyfriend.
“T-Toru...” you were too fucked up to formulate proper sentences.
“Shhh it’s okay.”
At his tender whispers, you easily drift into a fatigued sleep. You dream of shadow clones and blue, blue skies. 
Waking up after your brief nap, you find yourself dressed and cuddled by Satoru on a fresh set of sheets. “You okay?” he mutters in-between innocent pecks to your bruised lips.
At your affirmative nod, he probes further “Learn anything about my technique?”
“Absolutely not.” you sigh, pulling him in closer. As you snuggle into the crook of his neck, you almost miss the devious grin spreading across his face.
“Then…wanna try six next time?”
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A/N. No Part 2 till I figure out better ways to differentiate these bitches LMAO.
Plagiarism not authorized.
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fiovske · 8 months
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can I just say. coffee theory is stupid and completely cheapens the choice Aziraphale makes.
Aziraphale continues to say no to Metatron's offer until Metatron uses the real bait: if you take over Heaven, you can reinstate Crowley to his Angelic status. And that is what gets Aziraphale to say yes hook line and sinker — he can take Crowley with him so Crowey doesn't have to be afraid of Hell and Aziraphale can run things Do It Right as the Head of Heaven and no one would say anything to Crowley ever again if Aziraphale was on his side. Aziraphale doesn't know about the trial and the fact that Gabriel was fired for disagreeing w Heaven on the Second Armageddon front. He just thinks Gabriel was fired bc he fell in love w a demon (and Aziraphale's in love w a demon). Aziraphale strongly believes that if he can reinstate Crowley as an angel again then there would be no such objections from Heaven at all, because they would both be on the same side and they can be together and if anything ever goes wrong, both Crowley and he would be protected under Aziraphale's position as the new boss of Heaven. Plus, the way he remembers it, Crowley enjoyed making things creating things and still likes to do good deeds which he gets in trouble for if Hell finds out, but he won't if he's an angel, in Aziraphale's eyes then Crowley would be free to do all the good he liked. And because Aziraphale would be the boss, Crowley would be able to ask questions and work with him and make things better w his inquisitive perspective, something Crowley always wanted to do and Aziraphale wants to give him that also.
He doesn't know the full depth of things that Crowley knows, which is why when Crowley hears Aziraphale's offer, all he hears is that Aziraphale is choosing Heaven, after everything they have done to him, Aziraphale is leaving Crowley FOR Heaven. The way he sees it, Aziraphale wants him to change and be Heaven's definition of "Good" so they can both be in Heaven, conforming to a life Crowley left behind long ago, a life he knows Aziraphale wouldn't be happy in either. Which is the killing blow to Crowley's heart bc Aziraphale would choose THAT instead of coming away with Crowley? Devastating. But he doesn't know that Metatron's offer WAS Crowley's Angelification and hence forth security that got Aziraphale to say yes. Crowley hasn't communicated a lot to Aziraphale but Aziraphale also hasn't communicated a lot to him either and they're both on very different pages w the information they've got and what they feel they need to do to be together and be safe and happy.
Does Aziraphale make the naive choice? Yes. Does he make so in full control of his mind and senses? Also yes. Having his coffee poisoned is an incredibly cheap tactic because as a writer it's a cop out. It robs Aziraphale of not only his agency but also the reasonings behind his choice. It absolves him from the struggles and consequences of his actions and robs him of the growth and realization and epiphany he will have in the third act. It cheapens their inevitable reconciliation.
Metatron didn't hand him the coffee to poison him. He handed it to him so he can use the manipulative familiarity of "oh look i brought ur coffee order, isn't it cool how I know your coffee order isn't it nice how we are close like that?" that was the tactic. to get him to listen. Not some elaborate coffee poison.
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satarou · 8 months
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you’ve started seeing geto almost every day now.
shoko told you last week that you weren’t crazy—you had already convinced yourself that the light and shadows had made themselves into apparitions—but you were wrong. he’s there, always is.
today, he’s waiting inside your apartment, standing under the warmth of the kitchen light, that blank stare you’ve gotten so used to sitting on his face. lately, you’ve wanted to equate him to a ghost following an old, half-forgotten routine—you don’t think he really knows why he’s here, just that the path is the same and the walls seem a little different.
you suppose you can’t equate him to anything now, not when he’s twirling your lazy susan around with one finger, flipping past pepper, cayenne, paprika…
he stops when the door clicks shut.
this is a… new one, to say the least. you’re used to catching glimpses of him in grocery aisles, watching him stalk the corners of apartment buildings he used to live in, but he’s never gotten this close before. it’s haunting—he’s stood here more nights than you could count, twirled that damn spice rack while his arms trapped you just under his gaze—but he’s colder than he ever was.
you toe around the perimeter of your kitchen, avoiding the panels of wood that you’ve always known to creak and crow at the slightest tremor in the floor. you know he’s seen you, and you know that you won’t be able to creep past him, but part of you doesn’t want to anyway.
“back so late?” he asks. part of him is still the geto you know—the tiniest bit of his old inflection leaking into the flatness of the rest of it. it’s teasing, almost. warm like the yule log stations your parents used to put on TV around the holidays—not quite there.
“it’s early these days,” you reply, and he taps his fingers against the counter. there’s something there that you can’t quite place—a shadow that creeps down the back of your neck just as much as it’s ran its way through his. his hair is falling into his eyes, and you miss when you could see the rise and fall of his cheekbones from across any room.
he hums back to you.
you slip past him, around to your closet to plop your heels somewhere in the back, and then around again to your kettle. he doesn’t move as you fill it with water, nor as you put it on the stove, but you can feel the way his gaze follows you with every turn.
you turn when you’re done with it, cross your arms and lean back against the island counter to really look at him. older, a little more tired, hair longer and brows furrowed like they weren’t before. realistically, you should yell at him, tell him to get out of here before you call every cop in the city to take him by the arms and drag him out, but you don’t. really, you can only sigh.
“why are you here, suguru?”
the eyes that have been trailing you for the past three minutes finally flick up to meet your gaze. he spins the spice rack again, and then turns directly to face you, arms crossed to mirror every part of your position like he knows it so well. the rack is still spinning when he speaks again, pepper, cayenne, paprika…
“i want you to marry me,” he says. you’ve just realized he smells like that tobacco cologne you bought him three christmases ago.
you laugh. “i’ve heard that one before.”
and you have. mark the calendar back three years, end of december, that cologne still new on his chest, and you’d have found yourself right back in the kitchen. you were both a little younger, then, and he told you he’d marry you when it was right. eighteen never was your year.
he quirks a brow in your direction—the most emotion you’ve gotten out of him all night—and bites the inside of his cheek.
“if you’re wondering why, it’s just like you said,” you reply again, taking a pause to let him work it out before you even say it, “not the right time, dear.”
“i’m not saying it’s right, i’m saying i want you to marry me.”
if you’re honest, you don’t see a difference, but your kettle is whistling and geto’s moving to take it off the burner before you can move to do it. you grab your mug and your tea while you both consider the silence.
you plop your dry tea bag into the mug (it’s one he got you, neither of you acknowledge that you grabbed it at all, much less that it was out of instinct) and then breathe a little sigh.
“i wanted to marry suguru,” you say with a purse of your lips and a shake of your head as you pour water over your tea, “not you.” you turn to look at him, and he’s got his tongue poking at his cheek.
“it doesn’t change-”
“it does. you look like him, sometimes you even sound like him, but you’re not. i don’t know the man standing in my kitchen any more than i know the author of my favorite book.”
“kafka,” he says, and the way he does it quirks your lips into a smile.
“hey, i prefer to call him franz these days.”
that gets laughter out of him, even if it’s just a quick burst of breath from his chest. you sigh, you drizzle a little honey into your tea, it all feels a little too familiar.
“but still, suguru, you know i can’t-”
“but you could try,” he says, and it almost sounds hopeful. he’s squeezing his fingers in his other palm while he talks, gliding his hands up and down each other—you know he’s not nervous, but if you hadn’t known suguru, you’d think he was.
“i could try,” you say, “and i could fall in love with you, and you could disappear, or kill me, or just decide that i’m not enough.”
“i wouldn’t-”
“but you could.”
you take a sip of your tea. it’s herbal, to help with the headaches. you get them around this time of year, and you can already feel the lingering breeze of the first snowfall right around the corner.
he dips down to open up a cabinet—it’s got two bottles of unopened scotch that you couldn’t bear to throw out—he grabs one and hooks his fingers around the cabinet with your mugs. there’s a big blue one in there that you never use, and you know he’s reaching for it before his fingers even make contact. he pours the scotch in there and takes a sip. he used to make a face—not much of one, but enough to know that it burned. he doesn’t anymore.
“you know i wouldn’t,” he says.
“i don’t know you.”
“you still know me.” you both take another sip and you shake your head as you swallow—warm all the way down your throat, you can practically feel the heat in your ears. you’re trying not to clench your jaw and you’re trying to bite your tongue but he’s so close to him you can almost taste his tongue in your mouth.
“my suguru wouldn’t leave me for three years-”
“your suguru was left with no other choice-”
“my suguru knew that he was loved.”
he stills for a second, fingers tapping against his mug—ring, middle, index, ring, middle index—and then he brings his arm out to the side, letting the ceramic clatter against the metal of your sink as he takes one step forward, and then another, until you feel your own mug taken out of your hands. you know he sets it to the side but your eyes are only looking up at him—one big hand hovering just above your cheek, thumb brushing your bottom lashes. you watch his tongue lick his bottom lip.
“your suguru still loves you,” he says, low, with the gravel of his voice so close that you can feel it in your chest.
you’re watching him through your lashes. his eyes are bouncing across your face—cheeks, nose, lips, back up—and you furrow your brows at him. you take one step closer, just enough that his palm is resting against your cheek and your lips brush against the heel of his hand when you speak.
“if you really were my suguru, you wouldn’t’ve had to say anything.”
your voice is low, barely more than a whisper—quiet enough that you can hear the breath you exchange between the syllables. it takes one more beat, one more scattered gaze across your face for him to close the gap—and you hate him.
you hate him because when he’s kissing you, he tastes the same, and his hands go to the same places and you know half of it is instinct and half of it is memory. you hate him, because you can still pull his hair out of his face and he’ll feel like suguru and he’ll lift you up onto your counter and dip his fingers under your shirt and you’ll swear he’s still yours and not a phantom of what’s left.
you hate him, because when you can smell that damn tobacco and scotch and whatever the fuck else makes him feel like suguru, you’re not sure you could still tell him no.
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bruisedboys · 1 year
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Eddie loves his shy girl so much, he’ll always call her “my girl” or “the wife” “the mrs” around others just to watch how red she gets 🥹🥹 but soon he finds that calling her the wife feels natural and right, he realizes she’s the only girl he ever wants
he totally does omg. bro def calls you his wife with absolutely no shame. thank u for the ask angel!!
summary: eddie calls shy!you a lot of names. all of them make you flustered beyond belief
shy!fem!reader 1k words
Steve’s invited you all to drinks to celebrate him and Robin finally copping a job that isn’t slinging ice cream or sitting behind a video store counter all day. Eddie’s helping you pick out an outfit. It’s taking longer than you’d expected. Something about posing for Eddie makes you so nervous you can barely walk.
“Are you done yet?” Eddie’s voice on the other side of the door is far from impatient, even though it should be by now.
You grumble something incoherent instead of answering. Eddie heard you and laughs.
“Y/N,” he says seriously. The effect is ruined because you can hear his smile in the way he says your name. “We’re gonna be late, baby. Come out and show me the dress. I bet this is the one.”
You stare at yourself in the mirror for a few seconds. It is a nice dress. It’s a good length and makes your chest look nice, the colour looks pretty on your skin. Still, you’re embarrassed. You don’t like dressing up. It feels attention-seeking.
You scrub your face with both hands and take a big breath. “Alright, fine.”
You turn away from the mirror before you can stop yourself and yank the bathroom door open. Eddie’s waiting for you on your bed, sitting pretty, if a little slouched. He has bad posture. But his back goes rigid when he sees you — he sits up straight and lets his jaw drop.
“Babe,” he half-whispers, totally in awe, his eyes blown wide. He’s definitely laying it on thick but you can sense the genuineness underneath it all. His eyes traverse a path down your body and back up again, leaving your skin burning. And he hasn’t even touched you yet. “Baby. Honey. Darling. You look amazing.”
You flush all over despite yourself. “Eddie,” you say, chiding.
Eddie pretends to look offended. “What?” He leaps off the bed and gets one hand around your waist, the fabric of your dress shushing under his touch. “I’m serious, Y/N. You’re a real stunner, you know that?”
His other hand finds your elbow and pushes all the way up to your bicep, his fingers pressing into your skin. You burn like a furnace where he touches you. You knew this part was coming.
“Thank you, Eddie,” you say, genuine underneath all the shyness.
Eddie looks like he’s about to say something more but you’re saved from his doting by the phone next to your bed ringing loudly. You make to get it but Eddie beats you to it.
“Hello?” He says into the phone, sounding half-annoyed. “Oh. Hi, Steve. Yeah, no, we’re coming. The Mrs is just getting ready.” A pause in which Eddie meets your eye and winks. You flush even worse than you already were. Eddie goes back to talking to Steve. “Uh-huh. Yeah, we’ll be there in ten. Bye, Harrington.”
Eddie puts the phone back and you try to compose yourself. The Mrs, he’d called you. You feel like you could die.
Meanwhile Eddie’s grabbing his jacket from the bedpost and shrugging it on. “He’s badgering us about being late,” he says, pushing his arms through the sleeves. “We better get going, dove.” He looks up at you, half in his jacket. “Do you need me to carry anything for you?”
My heart? You think. Then maybe your chest wouldn’t hurt so much. You shake your head.
“No, um. That’s okay.” You push your hair behind your ears and try not to show how much he’s undone you with his antics. “I’ll just grab my purse.”
Eddie smiles at you. “Okay. I’ll meet you in the car?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
Ten minutes later you’ve arrived at the bar and Eddie’s leading you inside with a hand at the small of your back. He smells good, like the cologne you’d bought him forever ago that he wears basically every day.
You step inside the semi-crowded bar and Eddie spots your friend group before you do.
“They’re over there, by the window,” he says, pointing. “C’mon.”
He takes your hand and pulls you in the direction of your friends. You let him guide you and he pleases, his hand a warm weight in yours. You stare at the back of his head until you arrive at the table. Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan are all here.
“Munson!” Robin cheers. Your eyes zero in on the drink in her hand and you think she’s maybe already a bit tipsy. Then she spots you and beams. “Y/N!”
You smile back. “Hi, Robs. Hi, everyone, sorry we’re late.” You give a sheepish laugh and glance at Eddie. “My fault.”
“It was worth it though, right?” Eddie says enthusiastically, to the group at whole. He throws an arm around your shoulder and jostles you gently. “Doesn’t my girl look great?”
My girl. Your face burns. There’s a chorus of agreement from around the table — it makes you feel better but not better enough that you’re not still flushing furiously.
“Eddie,” you mumble, avoiding everyone’s eyes and staring at the tabletop instead. You elbow him in the side, too gentle for what you feel he deserves.
Eddie laughs loudly. “What?” He asks, even though he knows exactly what.
You huff and wish the floor would swallow you up. When it doesn’t, you let Eddie pull you into the booth next to Robin. It’s a tight squeeze and Eddie’s thigh presses into yours, his jeans warm and rough on your skin where your dress rides up your thighs.
You think Eddie notices this too because he lets his hand fall to your lap instead of his own, spreading his hand over your thigh, his fingers grazing your bare skin. He squeezes you and you try not to show how much he affects you.
“Drinks?” He asks you, like everything is completely normal and you’re not a nervous, flustered wreck right now.
“Okay,” you say, unable to get more than one word out.
Eddie grins wolfishly. You think he’s probably planning on being like this all night. You don’t mind as much as you should.
-
“Okay,” you say, unable to get more than one word out.
Eddie grins wolfishly. You think he’s probably planning on being like this all night. You don’t mind as much as you should.
-
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mphountitled · 4 months
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𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 𝐄𝐏. 𝐈 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐦𝐚𝐧
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❝ 𝘾𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙚𝙚, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣? ❞
Pairings: Park Seonghwa x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: Being begrudgingly seduced by the anarchist
Warnings: Language, Enemies to Lovers, Cop!Reader, Revolutionary!Seonghwa, Implied Violence, Crazy Form!Au, Seduction, Smut (+18, minors dni) Corruption Kink, Innocence Kink, Masochism, Humping, Fingering, pet names, Rough Sex, Massive Degradation Kink, Dom!Seonghwa, Sub!Reader, Squirting, Humiliation, Unprotected Sex, Hate Sex
A/n: I might turn this into a series featuring all the Pirates with their own smutty little parts because I cannot help re-watching the Crazy Form mv. It's too good
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The very sight of the undulating mosh pit has your stomach rolling with nausea as you enter the dimly lit warehouse. The corrugated walls are illuminated only by various splotches of neon paint, and you suddenly feel the uncanny need to pray as you enter the crowd.
You begin to grow fearful, not onky because this crowd might birth a fresh panic attack, but because you fear for your focus as well.
That you may not be swayed from your mission.
The Intel that led you and your police partner here had been incredibly difficult to come by because every one of their little followers were so terribly loyal.
So naturally, upon receiving a tip off about a show being hosted on the seedier outskirts of town, you had no choice but to attend.
In this unpredictable field of law enforcement, of one thing you are completely certain: There will always be a clear distinction between the good and the bad and they are as bad as they come.
They are common criminals, and there is nothing else to it.
In fact, referring to them as anything but, feels like a gross display of exaltation. Exaltation, which is, evidently, what they are used to.
Disgust is smeared across your face as you and your police partner sieve your way through drunken bodies swaying to the sound of Seonghwa's voice. Although you're shoving roughly past people, all in an attempt to get to the front of the stage, you can not help but marvel at the crowd, undulating to the beat of a bandit.
His face, along with the faces of 7 of his fellow delinquents were smeared across every wanted poster in the city, and yet here he is, raging into a microphone while the crowd cheers his name.
“If I hear ‘Seonghwa’ one more time I fear I might shoot myself in the foot,” you call out, to your partner not far behind, “Keep a tight grip on your weapons, please,” you say, craning your neck back as you palm cradles your back pocket with the Glock 14 nestled inside, “We don't know what any of these idiots are on and I dont think we want to find out.”
Your civilian attire is successful in keeping the attention off of you and your partner as you break out of the heat and anxiety of the moshpit, right in front of center stage.
Seonghwa is right above you, cradling a microphone as if it were the Holy grail while his accomplice, a very inebriated San, bounds across the stage, stirring up the crowd like Seonghwa's personal hypeman.
You could almost feel your vexation increasing to ungodly heights.
Everything about this egregious display of egomania makes your blood boil raging hot, and although these are only 2, you find your hands clenching in anticipation of being one step closer to putting all 8 behind bars.
Your hatred seems to be oozing out of your pores because soon, you catch his attention. Perched on a stage elevated amongst the masses, he is looking at you now. You. Instead of any of the other drunken groupies in the crowd begging to get even a sliver of attention.
With both hands cuffed around the mic, he peers down at you and winks before belting out the final words of the song.
How badly you itched to bind his wrists with your silver cuffs.
How badly you wished to get him and his insolent underlings off the streets.
"They do know how to capture an audience… we can at least give them that," Your head snaps sideways as the words of your partner rouses what little patience you're already working with.
You tap lightly at his badge. The sound of your nail hitting the metal is drowned out by the raucaus applaud but your police partner watches you intently as you cooly say, “Don't forget why we're here, Sergeant,” your voice holds caution as the noise of the crowd trickles down.
The set ends, and the man on stage drenched in flamboyant white linen bids the crowd a ‘Very good night’. He strolls off stage, not without giving you one last, knowing glance.
‘If you catch me, it's because I let you catch me,’ is what those eyes seem to be saying.
So much for blending into an unsuspecting crowd.
“These are not your friends. They're common criminals.” Your voice is louder now, with the absence of that Seonghwa's cacophony. “Stay here, make sure none of these degenerates kill themselves.” You're hellbent om following Seonghwa off the stage, but your partner's light snickers have you pausing slightly. You raise your eyebrows in questioning.
“You speak about them like they're not just fans," Your partner shakes his graying head, "Like they're complicit,”
“They are." You almost immediately reply with a narrowed gaze. "As far as I'm concerned, their fans are just as bad as them.”
With those parting words you make your way towards the part of the warehouse sectioned off from the rest of the crowd, where Seonghwa and his accomplice disappeared off to in the wake of their applause.
You reach what appears to be a backroom hidden behind the makeshift stage. It is far quieter than the rest of the warehouse pulsating with cacophony. You do not miss the slight apprehension that swallows you whole when your feet stop you from venturing over the threshold.
“It doesn't look like you have a backstage pass,” San sits beside Seonghwa on a couch positioned in the focal point of the small room. You recognize hid face as another one of the men whose visage was stamped in a very large police docket on your desk.
“Apologies,” you murmer to San, “I only have one of these,” you raise your police ID to the side of your face and San rises from his seat in mild curiosity. He sinks closer to you while Seonghwa, the man who held most of your attention, sits reclined, with his legs spread on the wide sectional.
He sits lazily, almost kingly under a giant white sheet. A flag plastered to the wall, with a giant, obnoxious, A carelessly spray painted in black.
“I thought we said no fans allowed backstage." San says in a sing-song voice, blatantly ignoring your badge with his giant shoulders now bending down to your height. The circumference of his hat casts a wide shadow over you, all in a clear display of intimidation. "That counts for pigs, too.”
His steely gaze never wavers from your face, and you fight valiantly to keep your emotions tamed under a calm, nonchalant reserve. "If you're a cop, where's your uniform?" San does an obnoxious display of racking his eyes over your body.
"Your dad's place," you whisper cooly, "I couldn't put it on in time."
Your words have an unmistakable smile cracking on the sides of San's face. "I enjoyed that very much."
"I thought a degenerate like you might." Despite your words, San is still smiling. In fact, you fear yourself at risk of slipping right into that enchanting gaze of his were it not for the interception of the third voice in the room.
“How interesting,” Seonghwa's voice cuts through the tension blistering between you and San like a white, hot knife.
“Leave us.” San's head snaps backward towards his accomplice, and all Seonghwa does is smile as they communicate, quite literally without words right in front of you. Seonghwa evidently 'says' what is needed in order to get San slyly leaving room. Not before tipping his hat in parting.
With your attention now focused solely on the man ok the couch, drenched in the white linen, whose arms are outstretched and resting on the headrest, you suddenly find yourself completely and unfortunately unsure.
You had met plenty of prisoners. Dined with manner delinquents and questioned many criminals, it is only in his presence when you feel your usually tough reserve quaking at the smallest fraction. In the face of what is apparently true rebellion.
“Why don't you have a seat,” he snickers when he finds you already stepping over the threshold, making yourself all too comfortable in an evil space. Nothing good existed beyond this point.
“I hope you enjoyed the show,” There is a depth to his voice that is regrettably tickling down the edge of your spine, dousing every bit of pateince you had.
“You call it a show… I call it inciting a riot,” you shrug, finally choosing to sit beside him on the wide sectional. Far too close beside him and his outstretched arms.
Despite the warning bells, you refuse to exhibit any fear.
“Is that why you're here?” His voice remains steady as he focuses it on tracing the tips of his fingers against your shoulder. He wants to see how quickly his touch could elicit a valley of goosebumps.
He is all too pleased to find you shivering in protest.
“You're here to arrest me?” In all honesty, Seonghwa enjoyed watching you try to push him away for the sake of your precious morals. Call it masochism, but there is something enticing about a woman who so very clearly abhors everything he stands for. Seonghwa cannot help but find it almost irresistible. His captain always remarked on Seonghwa's enjoyment for not only fixing broken things but also obsessing over them.
You did not know that the frown plastered across your face only accelerated his racing heart more. Desire plunged through his arteries as he immediately recognized you as a challenge.
Something to perhaps break.
It would be so incredibly satisfying, especially because you represented everything he despised in this wretched world.
Order.
“Actually, no.” You say, staving off another shivsr as you evade Seonghwa’s steadily heavy growing eyelids. “We received a call that someone was disturbing the peace.”
“In an abandoned warehouse?” He asks, voice airy and tone almost dismissive because he is much closer to you now, leaning towards you, as if enchanted by your very scent. You watch him with apprehension as you begin to feel the very first signs of what you regrettably realize to be attraction.
However, you can not move off the couch now because you can not control any of your motor functions in your concrete bones. Every one of your morals howl for you to get away from this man. To cuff him, send him down to the precinct and convict him for... something…
but that 'something' does not come quick enough, and he's leaning closer to you, with both arms still resting on the couch behind you. Before you can blow up your entire career, and close the distance, you wrangle some bit of sense to turn your head sideways, evading his half lidded eyes and slightly parted lips.
Your blatant rejection rouses him slightly, and he readjusts himself in his seat. Seonghwa brings his legs together to better manage the heat rushing to his cock in the wake of your rejection and apparent attraction (and immense frustration) as he shifts even closer beside you.
“You will find no disturbance here,” he says, “Only music.”
His words release the floodgates of your vexation, and your head snaps as you fire off. “Music that you weaponize to spew your delinquency.”
“Ah. Ah.” Seonghwa dips his head down to your ear as he whispers, “Delinquency, or rebellion?”
You're laughing humorlessly into the air, effectively causing Seonghwa’s smile to widen and his cock to stiffen completely in the confies of his pitch black dress pants. You are oblivious to his eyes, watching you as if you hung the very moon.
“You and your… freaks preach your vitriol and call it ‘rebellion’ when all you're actually doing is polluting our city with riots and crime.”
“You don't wish to be liberated from an oppressive world order?” He adjusts himself again, getting far too excited with the way this conversation is flowing. Your wide eyes and high vibrato do little to calm his restlessness.
“What oppression!?”
His voice is quick and monotonous, “Capitalism. Classism. Racism.” His fingers clench and unclench before swiping against the back of your neck, “Why do you willingly submit to a system that is simply un-winnable? We want you to free yourselves from the hierarchy. Fucking wreck the system-”
“You're fucking Pirates,” you spit the word out, unwokowungly snapping the very last of your reserve before Seonghwa is pulling you into a heady, heavy kiss by the nape of your neck.
"Fuck yes," He whispers before pulling you in as if you weighed absolutely nothing and you let him. You let his lips move languidly against yours as your hands fall against his chains and the white linen frills spilling from his collar. His hand is still positioned on the nape of your neck and he squeezes, forcing you to kiss him back. He groans into your mouth when you begin to work with him instead of against him. You mouth falling open as his tongue collides with yours.
Vaguely, in the background, outside these four walls, you can hear the crowd beginning to cheer once again as raucous music spills from unseen speakers. You can hear San beginning to sing into a mic, and your hand on Seonghwa's shirt curls imperceptibly.
“You're so beautiful…” You hate how easily his words affect you. You hate what a slave to desire you seem to be as he leans back to immediately push his hands in between your legs.
“Tell me to stop,” he challenges, keeping his feline eyes trained on you as he unclips the buttons of your jeans with one hand. “Tell me you don't want this disgusting delinquent to make you cum over and over again.”
Your lips are pursed painfully, and you throw your head back with your eyes clenched shut as you lift your hips. All the better for him to wriggle your jeans down to your ankles.
As he brings your legs up to his lap to pull off your jeans completely, Seonghwa's movements become all the more reckless and all the more urgent.
“All the same,” he murmurs before kneeling on the floor in front of you, “You conformists are all the fucking same.” Your eyes flutter open, along with your mouth, and the very moment your gaze locks onto the spray painted flag, hanging above you, Seongwha pushes aside your underwear, immediately spearing your dripping cunt with his long fingers. You release a broken moan into the air and his smile has blossomed into a full-on lopsided, evil grin as he brings your knees up to frame his face.
“2 seconds,” he taunts, in between your chorus of broken moans going head-to-head with the sound of San’s sensational belting, “it took me 2 seconds to have you humping my hand like a pretty fucking slut-”
Despite the pleasure coursing through your body, you still manage to keep your teeth clenched as you murmur, “You're the one… fuck… you're the one kneeling in front of me like my personal whore-”
Seonghwa's eyebrows raise, and his eyes glint in excitement at your taunting. He prided himself on being someone who could take as much as he gave out, and you're doing a terrific job at holding his attention when so many other people fell short.
You were interesting, of that, Seonghwa was sure.
“You make me want you so bad, Dove,” he admits before swiping his other hand over his stiffening bulge to the rhythm of his hand pushing in and out of your cunt.
“You drive me fucking crazy-”
“You're already crazy- fuck, just like that! Please don't stop-” your clenching around his fingers, eyes locked on his wide, excited eyes and his close lipped smile as brings his other hand to swipe over your clit.
The very second his calluses make contact with your swollen, puffy clit, you're cumming around his fingers. San’s vocal rages and your screams pour out as you fight to keep your eyes open. Seonghwa's fingers are still pushing into you relentlessly, and your heart sinks when you realise the seat underneath you is drenched with your arousal.
Seonghwa's mind is flooded with the image of you squirting so shamelessly around his fingers. Seeing you give yourself over to him so seamlessly made him feel absolutely restless with arousal, and he's pushing you down onto the couch before you're able to fill the air with idle protests.
His clothes suddenly feel too constricting and he curses the black corset as he wrestles with the buttons of his collar. He does not care that the buttons are flying onto the floor because he is clambouring onto the couch and hovering over you as he slots his hips in between your open legs.
“I need you to make a mess for me,” he whispers, before pulling his collar open, showcasing a patch of his tanned chest to your wide eyes. You unbuttoned your own shirt at the very same time that Seonghwa pulls down the zip of his pants, and he nearly whines at the sight of your breasts spilling out of your top. You are using him just as much as he is using you.
“Just like that, baby,” He nods, forcing his cock deep inside you as you begin to tweak your own nipples to stave off the discomfort of being stretched open so completely.
“F-Fuck- Seonghwa…” He is still nodding as he bends down towards you. Strands of his black hair tickle your face as he positions his hands on the side of your head and ruts into you with urgency. “I don't think I can take it-”
“You're already taking it so well, Baby.” He coos, as he forces his cock deeper and deeper into your clenching walls.
“You're taking everything I have to give and you're doing it flawlessly,” his praises are like that fashioned from a poet and the sheer artistry behind mere words have your head flying backwards as you release a torrid moan into the air.
“Where are you going?” He asks with a breathless laugh as he brings your head back by the grip of your throat. He is driving his cock inside you, his own frills spilling over your skin as he chokes you relentlessly.
Seonghwa is the very sight of violent beauty: hair mussed with his collar completely undone. His corset is still fashioned around his waist but it succeeds in tightening his abdomen, bringing him closer to the edge as the torrid sounds of your fucking fills the air.
"Fuck I'm close,” He grunts with his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his skull. "Tell me you hate me-" he whispers.
"I hate you," you moan out. "I hate you so fucking much-" It fell from your lips so easily because it is the God honest truth. Despite the spell he currently has you under, in the eyes of your aspirations, and everything you've ever worked hard for, you hated him and people like him. People who threatened to dismantle the progress lawmakers have strived to protect. And so, with your orgasm crwsting and your toes clenching, you whisper those words over and over to him. And every time to tell him you hate him, he chokes you harder and fucks you deeper.
"F-Fuck- 'Hwa I'm-" he nods, eyes now incredibly pained as he drives his cock into you with no chance of stopping.
"Cum for me," His whisper has you reading a broken moan into the air and Seonghwa watches as you descend into the depths of your euphoria.
"Gorgeous-" He exclaims through clenched teeth as his own hips begin to stutter, "You're so fucking gorgeous-" He whimpers before spilling inside you.
You're both moaning into the air, at the very same time that Choi San appears at the threshold.
"You work fast," San says languidly. He shifts his gaze from your horror-stricken gaze to Seonghwa who stares at his accomplice with a smirk on his face.
"I work smarter," Seonghwa says, "not harder." You're very much aware that he is still very much inside of you in front of a complete stranger but that panic dissipates when you realize Seonghwa, himself, is nothing but a stranger...
"The police is not gonna be a problem for us anymore, right?" He asks sweetly before dipping his head down in between the crook of your neck. You are starkly aware that your silence is answer enough...
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lenny-1of2dads · 26 days
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At the age of twenty two and upon graduating college my dad takes me to Colorado to go mountain climbing for a week. We were having a great time getting to know each other as adults. At the age of forty-two he and my mom had been divorced for five years. He said he liked being single. We end the vacation by going to a hot spring pool. I had no idea we would be getting naked. My dad is freaking hot for forty-two. The water feels fantastic. Dad says I be right back and leaves to make out with some guy in the corner. I am freaking out and starting to getting aroused. I notice two other guys from the neck up do something underwater they are enjoying. Finally a straight couple OMG right there in front of everyone. What kind of hot springs is this? I start to panic looking back at my dad is in heaven and I don't mean the dead kind. Five minutes later he comes back over. He said That guys name is Greg, he about five years older the you. That was awesome you should go check him out. I was freaking. Dad says relax I am right here nothing bad is going to happen just pleasure. My dad was the straightest person I knew I just did not understand how this was okay. Not sure why I was moving in Greg's direction. I trusted my dad I guess.
I said hello
He said bro your dad is awesome does it run in the family.
I said I have zero idea what you are talking about.
He said don't be shy come closer. We were in the deeper end the top of our shoulders and above was the only thing showing out of the water. I get close and he wraps his legs around my waist to lock me in place. He kisses my lips saying relax relax. We start making out while under water he grope my body parts. In a dark corner of a cave below ground full of extremely hot water I have sex with a guy for the first time in my life. BOOM.
When we finished and I came back to reality Greg and I were smiling and remember we we not alone after all. Greg sees that I am freaking out that was so damn hot. He said first time with a dude blew me away too. I can't believe guys get so afraid to do gay stuff it is still just sex. I have been out three years I can promise It sex with guys will only get better from this point. We start making out again. He is just awesome at this kissing stuff how is that possible.
Making eye contact with my dad after that was weird. He swims over to check on me. I was high on life, or something. He invites Greg to dinner back at our hotel to join us for dinner at seven. Dad manipulated the conversation to talk about the important stuff. First bombshell was we were both from and living Las Vegas attending UNLV. I had a degree in criminal Justice, and was thinking about becoming a cop. He was finishing up his masters degree. He was going for Clinical Social Worker. He had a house in Las Vegas I has an apartment. We were all flying out tomorrow and on the same plane. After dinner we all went to the bar. Had a few cocktails. Greg asked dad if we could have a sleep over in his room tonight. Dad said yes I will plan on see you both at breakfast. He give Greg a kiss on the mouth and then gives me one. Almost sexual but not. It was more I love you son so much.
Greg and I go back to his room for what was hours of great sex. Weird like getting a new toy to play with we had to push all the buttons we could to see how this works. I was definitely gay and had feelings for Greg. I think I fell in love with him because he made everything about me and what I was feeling and experiencing with him. He wanted so hard rock my world. He made previous sex life with girls feel like I was pretending. Because I was. We woke up the next morning like a gay couple. I called dads room and got no answer. I assumed he was in the shower.
I get dressed go to our room to find my dad had checked out. He took a flight to San Diego this morning. He left a note.
I met Greg a few months ago and we fooled around. He kept saying I was perfect for him, I kept saying I'm not gay. He talked me into doing gay stuff a couple of times. I will admit it was hot. We exchanged numbers and texted, I suggested he should meet you. You were perfect for him and both and in Las Vegas. Then we discussed that possibility.
This is your father saying this was all a set up to get you to come out of the closet and start living your life. I paid for Greg to be there and meet you. I do not mean to choose who you love. This was me saying do not be afraid of anything. With your first four years of college over. Take chances. explore opportunities and live life to the fullest. It is okay to be gay if that's where life takes you. If not you can change your mind.
Greg was at the door which I had left opened. He came in asking where my dad was. I said he was gone and gave him the note. Greg got a bit emotional and said we don't have to be boyfriends if you don't want to. Your dad loves you so much he just wanted to you to be happy.
For as long as I can remember I would see a hot guy and noticed. I assumed all guys did that. Not because I wanted to have sex with then but because I want to look like that. I wanted the same reaction I get when I see a hot guy. I did want girls to see me as hot I wanted guys to see me as hot too. It was me being gay all long I just never went there, because that was not supposed to happen. I am just now starting to figure this out. Dad had to know that. On the flight home Grag said dad had just sent him the ticket a few days before we met.
After spending time with me my dad seemed to think meeting Greg was a good idea. That me being gay was a possibility that I should check out. Dad would tell me later that time is precious, the opportunity to love someone and have them love you back is the miracle of life. Finding love is hard enough don't make it about body parts make it about the person. How that person makes you feel and how you make them feel. Over the next six months Grag and I spent so much time together I gave up my apartment. We officially became engaged shortly after moving in. A year later at our wedding and just to piss my mother off. Greg went first and then I gave my dad a kiss and together both kisses raised more than a few eyebrows. Freaked out my dads new girlfriend who also loves the hot springs where we will be going for our honeymoon.
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andhumanslovedstories · 8 months
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That post seeking information on psych nursing was prompted by—well by a lot of things, I have a lot of feelings when I’m on that floor, chief amongst them being “I didn’t become a nurse to become a cop”—but in particular, a bit ago I was having a long conversation with a patient because they were feeling super nauseated but didn’t feel comfortable taking anti-nausea medication. And this patient was going through a lot (I’m gonna keep this pretty vague) and was fixated on this idea that someone at the hospital was poisoning their food for reasons explained to me in-depth. Okay, no meds then, we try some other stuff and I make them tea and we walk around, and they start feeling better thankfully, and even agree to take the nausea meds.
It’s been a good conversation and we’re really getting on, I think, so I talk with them a while longer, and we get back on the subject of the hospital, and the patient tells me a delusional thought they have about the hospital that was both impossible to be true and would be horrible if it was.
(This isn’t the delusion, but imagine it’s something equivalent to something like “the hospital gives out deadly nanotechnology to the nurses so that we can kill whatever patients we find annoying.” Something that is both evil and logistically impossible. We got a sternly worded email about too many employees using patient blankets for warmth and it was driving up the laundry bill, you know? Our unit is excited because we’re finally gonna get our own work phones instead of having to borrow everyone else’s. They aren’t giving us CIA murdertech and a license to kill. Also the vast majority of healthcare workers do not want to kill their patients. But again, just pragmatically, it’s not the budget.)
And I said something like, “For what it’s worth, I have never seen any evidence of that in my work. I know the hospital is a flawed institution, but if it was doing the thing you say it is doing, I could never work here.”
And the patient said, “if they’re doing what I say they’re doing, you have an obligation to keep working here so you could stop it.”
And god I’ve been thinking about that ethical argument ever since.
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keerysfreckles · 2 months
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falling in — steve harrington
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pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
summary: when a burnt down mall sends y/n to steve
warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, steve got his ass beat (who's surprised), s3 spoilers duh, pure fluff/comfort, blood and injuries mentioned, pretty detailed makeout session
a/n: for my wife @keerysbrowneyes ily
masterlist !
꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱
y/n sat nervously at the edge of her couch in her small living room. she watched her small flickering tv at the other end of the room with nothing but worry.
helicopters roaring, a blazing fire and multiple reporters surround the loved starcourt mall. y/n's heart almost burst out of her chest when one reporter stated most people made it out safely.
steve harrington was the first person to flood her mind. the girl hasn't heard of him for the past three days, which only made her nerves skyrocket.
"sources say scoops ahoy workers were at the scene, with multiple young kids and parents. . ."
y/n was out the door, struggling to put on her other shoe while running to her car.
y/n didn't even let the car come to a complete stop before she was running past concerned townspeople, reporters and cops. she easily slid under the caution tape and fit in between two firetrucks, not bothering to listen to the cops and other authorities yelling for her to stop.
y/n looked from left to right. she first saw nancy and jonathan, and robin sitting in the back of one ambulance. will was with his mother, with el and mike besides them. lucas was comforting max. she looked at the last ambulance and saw steve.
as soon as their eyes met, time slowed. steve dropped the blanket from his shoulders and y/n's worn out converse hit the asphalt again.
steve stood from the ambulance, and for the first time tonight a smile broke out onto his face. he didn't care it was hurting his eye.
his arms are wide open once y/n reaches him. hers instantly wrap around his shoulders as he lifts her off the ground.
"you're okay," y/n lets the tears fall from her eyes, her voice is strained. "you're here, you're really okay."
steve kisses the side of her head before setting her back on the ground, however neither of them let go of each other.
"i thought i lost you," y/n admits.
steve chuckles, "you could never get rid of me that easily."
y/n leans back, her eyes roaming over the boy in front of her. she sees the large bruise surrounding his swollen eye, and the tiny cuts on his lips.
steve copies her actions, not believing the girl in his arms is really here. this feels too much like a dream that he didn't want to wake up from.
y/n puts her hand gently on steve's cheek just as a tear falls from his right eye. his voice is soft and broken, "can you take me home?"
y/n nods immediately, and carefully takes his hand in hers to lead them both to her car. they're stopped briefly by a cop, to which they explain y/n would be taking steve home.
they sit in the car for a moment, while an abba song plays quietly over the radio. y/n leans forward to turn it off. she didn't think steve was in the mood to dance to anything, let alone listen to a happy pop song.
"are you okay?" y/n knew it was a stupid question to ask, but she had to ask anyway.
steve only nods, as he wipes his cheeks as more tears fall. y/n simply gives him her hand. his rough hand holds onto it the whole drive back to y/n's small one bed-one bath house.
"wait, i thought you were taking me home," steve announces once he watches her turn down the wrong street.
"you really think i'd let you stay home alone after whatever you went through?"
steve shrugs.
"how hard did they hit you?" y/n lets out an airy laugh, which steve reciprocates.
y/n looks over to the passenger side after parking on the street in front of her dark red door.
"thank you," steve's voice fills the silence of the car.
the two walk out of the and in the housr wordlessly. they both leave their shoes in a pile by the front door, and steve follows y/n to her room. he sees she left the tv and lights on, guessing she left in a hurry.
"you take a shower okay? then if you want i can help with the other cuts."
steve gratefully accepts y/n's offer. he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding once he sits on the edge of y/n's bed. she comes out of the bathroom after starting the shower, and making sure it wasn't too hot.
steve holds his arms open again, making y/n walk towards him. she stands between his thighs as he rests his head against her chest, hearing the pulse of her heartbeat. the girl leans down to place a kiss on his matted curls.
"i'll be here when you get out," y/n whispers into his hair.
as steve showers, he's careful when he reaches and cuts or bruises, and can't help but let more tears fall. by the end of it he couldn't tell if it was tears or water running down his face.
he's quick to dry off and doesn't mind the water falling back onto his face and neck from his wet hair.
he noticed his dried bloody work uniform was replaced by a pair of sweatpants, a tshirt and boxers. he smiled at the thought of y/n keeping a pair of his clothes here for him.
steve leaves the bathroom and is met with y/n coming back into her room with a small basket in her hands.
"hey," she smiles towards steve, "how are you feeling?"
"that was a must needed shower," he chuckles.
"what's that for?" he points to the wooven basket now placed on the bed.
"a couple things to help with your cuts."
after steve came over to y/n's house their junior year, with the aftermath of a fight with jonathan byers, the girl knew to keep a first aid kit just for steve.
y/n instructs for steve to lay on her bed. he gladly let a loud sigh leaves his lips once his back hits the mattress, making y/n chuckle.
she sits on the left side of steve, making her be in the middle of the bed. she easily leans over him to turn on the lamp placed on the night stand. steve can't help but blush at the close proximity.
"these are just wipes, to get any extra dried blood off," y/n starts walking him through the steps.
she's careful when wiping around the cuts on his lips, and is surprised he only winces once.
she moves to his hairline and bruise covering his eye. the swelling has gone down drastically, and she can now look at both of his beautiful brown eyes.
steve keeps his hands folded on his stomach while y/n takes care of him. she goes to the next step and takes peroxide and cotton balls to the cuts.
after the cotton meets his lips he grabs y/n's wrist. she mutters out many apologies, not meaning to hurt steve more.
"it's okay," he stops her rambling apologies, "just hurts way more than i thought it would."
y/n continues treating his wounds. every so often steve's eyes would float to her features. to her concerned eyes, crinkling at the corners. or to her hair that kept falling over her ear, to which she always put back, yet it never stayed.
y/n finally takes a warm towel, steve guessed was from the dryer, and she dabbed it over his lips and eye. she watched his shoulders relax as she held it over his eye.
"are you alright?" she felt like she asked the question a million times tonight.
steve nods, "never better."
another comfortable silence fills the room. steve now sits up, making y/n bring the towel to her lap. steve breaks the silence.
"did you always have that freckle?" his thumb traces the light freckle on her cheek. she blushes from the contact. before she answers, steve moves his hand to fix the strands of hair that have fallen in front of her ear. his hand goes back to holding her cheek.
y/n's eyes move between both of steve's brown ones.
"steve," y/n warns in a whisper as he starts moving closer to her.
"i want you y/n. thats the one thing i've never been more sure of tonight."
his soft words leave a tickling breath over y/n's lips.
y/n makes the move to lean forward. her right hand reaches to hold onto steve's bicep as her lips collide with his. the kiss only lasts for a few seconds before y/n pulls away. her cheeks are flushed as she sees steve's widened pupils.
steve simply pulls her back to him with the hand that was still on her cheek. he turns his head to deepen the kiss, and he can't help but smile against y/n's lips after feeling her hand move to his neck. she grips the damp hair, threading her fingers through it.
steve's left hand goes to y/n's lower back as he moves her to lay down. he's now hovering over her, with his thighs falling between hers.
the two pull away, both with blown pupils, flushed cheeks and swollen lips.
"do you want me to stay–"
"yes."
steve couldn't even finish his question before y/n answers quickly and pulls him down tp kiss him again, with much more hunger than before.
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