#knees weak arms spaghetti nose is dripping already

[cheesy09]

Eyes

I am neck-deep in Gavin feels right now, so here, have some self-indulgent sexy Gavin! Sometimes I forget how destructive his charm can be 😩💕

Pairing: Gavin x Reader Warnings: Suggestive! Word Count: 1,169  Genres: Fluff 

“Gavin, have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are?” 

Before you even realized it, the words were out of your mouth. Gavin walked out of the kitchen gulping down a chilled bottle of water, having just taken a shower. He glanced at you, sitting on the couch, your phone in your hands and an affectionate smile on your face and coughed awkwardly, feeling his face flush. “Ahem... what brought this on all of a sudden?”

“No reason,” You replied. “It’s just that I was going through some old photos of us and I wanted to tell you. Your eyes...”

Your words died down, your eyes finally landing on the brown-haired young man who had just walked out of the shower. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of old faded jeans that hung low on his narrow hips and a towel wrapped around his shoulders. Drips of water slid down the smooth strands of his hair and unto his finely built torso. The warm lighting in the room gave his tan skin an exceptionally sexy glow and you swallowed involuntarily, suddenly feeling parched. 

“Uh... well...” Not knowing where to look, and hoping that Gavin didn’t catch you staring, you glanced up at his face. 

Too late. Gavin’s eyes carried a mischievous glint within them, letting you know that he’d already seen right through you. Your cheeks burned at the realization and you watched as he placed the water bottle down and walked up to you, trying to control the thunderous volume of your heartbeat. 

“What about my eyes, hmm?” He murmured, planting his hands on the back of the couch, caging you within the confines of his arms. His smile was affectionate, which only seemed to add to his sudden allure, and you felt your temperature spike as his warm breath brushed against your face.

Unable to bear looking into his eyes anymore, you furtively looked down at your phone. “I-I just find your eyes to be really attractive. They’re a really really warm color. In fact, your eyes are the reason that amber is now my favorite color.”

You heard a low chuckle from above you and you felt his fingers brush against your cheek as Gavin tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. “Do you wanna know what I think of your eyes?” 

You glanced up, curiosity getting the better of you, and you melted at the love that was melded into his gaze, your brain at once turning to mush. Gavin dropped a light kiss against your forehead, making your breath hitch. “I love the way your eyes look when they light up at the sight of me...”

He dropped another kiss on the tip of your nose and your heart leapt. “I also like the way they look when you’re thinking about me...”

Another kiss fell on your cheek. “Also, when your focused... I like your eyes then too.”

You felt another on the shell of your ear, his warm whispers sending a tingle down your spine and making your toes curl pleasantly. “I especially liked the way you looked at me earlier...” 

His kisses travelled down to your throat, making sure to avoid your lips deliberately, while his fingers tugged at the spaghetti straps of your tank-top. Your heart was as loud as a drum, and you bit your lip involuntarily, no doubt feeling yourself fall apart from his gentle ministrations.

“Ga-Gavin...” Your whisper was rasp, and desperate, wanting him to take the next step. Your itchy fingers reached up to grab at his towel, to pull him closer to you, desperate to close the distance between your bodies.

It was easy getting lost in each other. Too easy. After all, the two of you would spend so much time apart from each other because of your jobs, that the longing to be together would reach an almost painful degree. Especially for you, there would always be this ominous cloud looming over your head on whether Gavin was doing okay or not, wherever he was.

So it wasn’t really a surprise that when the two of you moved in together, you almost always couldn’t keep your hands off each other.  

Within no time, the towel found itself discarded on the floor and the two pairs of lips sealed tightly together. Having just taken a bath, Gavin’s soapy and refreshing scent wafted into your nose, intoxicating you. He wasted no time in deepening the kiss, his mouth hungry and ravenous as he slid his knee in the gap between your legs.

You moaned into his mouth as you felt his tongue swipe across your lips, begging for entrance, and you complied. Gavin’s lips and tongue were cool, probably due to the water he drank earlier, but that didn’t last for long. The warm temperature from the bathroom still clung to his body, setting every inch of your skin ablaze as you arched your body into him.

Gavin’s body was like that of a rock’s - no - like an entire mountain. Firm and strong, shielding you from all harm and danger. Just like his unrestrained spirit. But it was nothing but an outer shell for the soft and beautiful heart that lay beneath it. A heart that you had sworn to protect your whole life, no matter what.

Overwhelmed with emotion, your arms twined around his neck unabashedly, trying to bring yourself closer to him. Feeling mischievous, you narrowly opened your eyes slightly to sneak a peek at him. 

His eyes were closed, his long eyelashes trembling, as if they would flutter open at any second. He seemed completely absorbed in the kiss, but you didn’t miss the bright red tips of his ears, adding that hint of boyish charm to his devilishly handsome features. You teasingly traced over the rims of his ears with your fingers, earning a gentle bite of protest from him.  

Gavin didn’t plan on keeping his hands idle either. One of them buried itself in your hair, tenderly lacing his fingers between the strands, keeping you in place, while the other slipped under the hem of your tank-top. 

His hand was like hot iron, searing into your skin as it crept up higher and higher...

“Gavin..!” You gasped, breaking apart from the all-consuming kiss, your labored breaths entwining in the space between the two of you. Gavin’s eyes - the only pair of eyes you’d find yourself weak to - met your own, their usually warm glow now also carrying with it an irresistible temptation.

Those eyes were going to be the end of you.

Feeling guilty for breaking up the earlier atmosphere, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his, whispering softly. “Not here, please.”

“Mmm, okay.” His smile against your lips was undoubtedly teasing.

Before you could tell what was happening, you felt two strong arms wrap around you as Gavin lifted you in a bridal hold, carrying you towards your shared bedroom, the door closing behind you with a resounding ‘click!’

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───  

Thank you so much for reading! If you want to read more of my other works, you’ll find them in my Masterlist.

#mr love queen's choice #mr love queen's choice gavin #mr love #mr love fanfiction #mr love gavin #mlqc #mlqc fanfiction #mlqc gavin #gavin fanfiction #my writing

[closedafterdark]

could you write a smut for choerry

"Was I a good girl today, oppa?"

You looked to your left and saw the bright woman next to you, Choi Yerim. You were both sitting in the backseat of a taxi on the way back to your apartment. You were slightly nervous, it was the first time you brought anyone over since you moved. This would be Yerim’s second night in a row she was staying at your place. The both of you are heading there after a relaxing dinner and a movie.

Yerim’s mood wasn’t her usual bright and chipper - she responded to your attempts of conversational talk with one word answers or having a constant scowl on her face. You noticed people passing by quietly asking each other why she looked so uptight. The truth was you didn’t fuck Yerim like she wanted you to. She was in the middle of sucking your balls the previous night when you told her you were going to bed after she made you cum. Yerim did not take kindly to that, yelling very loudly that she wanted to get dicked down. This morning you found yourself in your bed alone, your morning wood as erect as ever since Yerim wanted to give you the silent treatment. You didn’t mind though, Yerim always acted like a spoiled brat whenever you denied her sex.

“Yes you were, honey” you said as you flashed an extremely weak smile. Yerim’s smile was beautiful, it melted all of your worries away when you saw her look at you lovingly. You weren’t afraid to admit you were whipped for her, most of your day wanting to center around her. There were some days where you felt like a potato standing next to such a beauty.

The streetlights were not working in your favor, constantly turning from green to red after only allowing a few cars to pass. The driver didn’t care what went on in the back seat, yelling about how his wife doesn’t let him do what he wants so he’s stuck driving strangers around. You wore Yerim’s bag as she handed it to you before you two entered the taxi. She traced her finger along the leather strap before roughly gripping onto it and pulling you close to her. She blew hot breaths of air into your ear before speaking.

“Are you going to fuck me until I can’t walk?” she whispered in such a sexy tone that the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. She pulled on the leather strap even harder as she licked your ear.

“Oppa needs to punish his bad girl. Fuck me so hard the neighbors will call security about noise complaints”

Thankfully, the taxi arrived outside your apartment less than ten minutes later. You were afraid Yerim was going to yank your pants off from how horny she was. You paid for the taxi and closed the door shut. As the driver sped off, both of you entered the main lobby of the apartment complex before heading into the elevator. Yerim’s naughty hands couldn’t keep themselves off you, having already unzipped your jeans and unbuttoned your shirt.

As you kept trying to prevent her hands from continuing any further you hurriedly enter the passcode to your apartment. Yerim squeals with excitement as you both enter. She kicks off her shoes and runs into the living room. You managed to luck out and have a rent controlled apartment: two bedrooms, living room, large kitchen and two bathrooms. The second bedroom was still empty besides a desk and bed, not that it mattered since you lived alone.

“I need to pee” she groaned as she hurriedly ran to the guest bathroom. She wore a formal casual outfit on your date: a newspaper printed blazer paired with a loose tie worn on top of a thin spaghetti strap top which outline her wonderful breasts nicely. She complimented them with a pair of white shorts. You would’ve preferred her wearing skintight blue jeans, but knew she’d be even more furious from the previous night’s denial. Her brown hair flowed messily down as you loved her tint of lipstick and eyeshadow she chose today. She had the perfect balance of seductive and sweet.

You put her bag away on the kitchen countertop. You removed your button up shirt and socks. You head back to the living room and hear the sound of the toilet being flushed. Yerim runs towards you instantly and jumps into your arms. They instinctively held onto her now exposed bottom as she wrapped her legs around you. She wrapped her arms around your neck as she began kissing you. Her tongue parted your lips as she hungrily bit on your lower lip. Your tongue fought back in response as both of you wanted control. Yerim deepened the kiss as one of your hands caressed the back of her head. Her breasts pressed against your chest as you tried your best to quell her insatiable lust.

“You didn’t even kiss me in the taxi, oppa” she said in between your kisses. One thing you loved about Yerim was she enjoyed giving extremely wet kisses, thin strings of saliva often connecting your mouths together. What people didn’t know about Yerim was her sweet face was a mask for how she acted in the bedroom. The more spit, the better.

“The driver was watching. It’s not my fault you wanted to give me a blowjob in the backseat” you said teasingly as your lips gripped onto her neck and began to suck gently. She moaned loudly as you tightened your hold, sucking the skin as hard as you could. You parted her from her when you saw a small mark form. Yerim’s voice was always so erotic, it never took you long to have an erection around her.

“You’re making me so hard” you said to her coolly once your lips parted her neck.

“You’re so bad” she replied. “That certainly isn’t because of me”

Yerim gave you a deep, long kiss as she hopped off your body. Your jeans and boxers flew onto the couch as she kneeled down before you, using one of the throw pillows as a cushion. You always found her butt cute, jiggling as Yerim gave you a blowjob. You looked on in delight as she took you halfway into her mouth. She certainly knew how to give head, the pleasure beginning to overload your body as your knees buckled. She flattened her tongue and ran it on the underside of your shaft, long licks starting from base to tip. The moment Yerim took you fully in her mouth you felt your cock be drenched. The feeling was almost unbearable, she had never given you a blowjob like this before.

“Oh shit, that’s a good girl” you say, running your hands through her freshly dyed hair. You heard loud squelching sounds. You looked down and saw Yerim was fingering herself, her leaking pussy dripping onto the hardwood floors. You laughed, she had a lot of pent up sexual frustration from not getting fucked the night before.

Yerim teased you, releasing your cock every time you felt you were going to cum. She would stroke you as she took your balls into her mouth individually. Her airtight suction on them caused you to moan loudly. After your cock was thoroughly drenched, she stroked it a few times before slapping her hollow cheeks with them. She moaned as she felt the saliva cling onto them. Yerim loved any form of sex she could get.

Yerim loved being in control whenever she gave you blowjobs, this however was not going to be one of those moments. She secretly loved being dominated. You grabbed her beautiful brown hair and formed a makeshift ponytail. You dictated the pace at which she sucked your cock, making her bob up and down to a rhythm you chose. You loved hearing Yerim gag because of your cock, her muted screams of pleasure unable to be loudly heard. After releasing her sloppy mouth, she began to catch her breath as you lifted up her tired body and pushed her onto the bed. She giggled as you jumped on top of her and gave her a kiss. She unhooked her bra and tossed it on the floor. You grabbed onto her beautiful thighs, massaging them as you slowly spread her slender legs apart.

“Look at how wet you are already. This isn’t very ladylike” you quietly hummed as you parted her beautiful pink lips. Yerim liked to keep herself cleanly shaved, you told her it tickled whenever it would brush against your nose.

You traced the juices that were beginning to leak out of her and popped them into your mouth. She always tasted so sweet. You loved when she was wet for you. You rubbed both lips for a bit to tease her before inserting your middle finger slowly inside her. Yerim let out a loud moan as your finger entered and exited her. Her body began to move with your finger, her screams getting louder every time you inserted another finger. Your left hand massaged her breasts, extremely soft and just large enough for you to squeeze. You played with her erecting nipples, loving how they caused her to moan.

“Holy fuck... oppa... Your fingers are so wonderful” Yerim shyly moaned, as she occasionally put a hand over her mouth in order to prevent your neighbors from hearing. You didn’t want to deny such a pretty girl her wish, so you continued to finger her. Her painfully tight walls wrapped themselves around you. You removed your other hand from her breast and used it to part her lips even more. Your thumb ran circles around her clitoris. Yerim let out her loudest screams of the night. Her entire body was twitching, wanting more. You held her legs in place as she stretched her neck out. She was enjoying being pleasured by you.

“Oh, fuck!” she screamed as your three fingers pulled out of her, just in time as her orgasm arrived. Yerim was a squirter, and tonight was no different. Her juices stained the bedsheets, your thighs and stomach, some of it even managed to hit the mirror across your room. Her body began heaving as her orgasm winded down. You teased her even more by giving her still wet pussy a deep kiss.

Yerim was thoroughly wet for you. Now that you prepared her, it was time for the real thing. You spread her legs once more as your tip hit her entrance several times. She moaned as you gave her a satisfied smirk. Her eyes were weak, pleading for you to enter her already.

“Good girls deserve to be punished. By being fucked until they can’t walk the next day” you said as you entered her love cavern. Both of you moaned in satisfaction, you closed your eyes as inch by inch penetrated her. She was extremely wet from her orgasm, allowing for easy entrance. You inserted yourself halfway before pulling out. Yerim yelped in surprise when you immediately inserted yourself fully inside. She closed her eyes and let out loud moans as you began to fuck her. You stopped a few times, trying to establish a rhythm good enough for the both of you. You listened to her moans, trying to find which one was the loudest. Her voice gradually increased in volume as you became rougher.

Yerim’s extremely pink pussy was beginning to be explored by your red tip. Each thrust made you want to go deeper and deeper. Your hands held onto her hips for support so that you could pound her to your heart’s content. Yerim’s screams filled the quiet room and complimented the squelchy sounds your bodies were making. You wanted her to look at you, but her eyes remained close a majority of the time. You couldn’t blame her though, the feeling was euphoric for both of you. Yerim loved being a bottom, she found it sexy whenever you took control.

“Fuck, you’re so tight!” you said as one of your hands slapped her breast. She let out a moan as her eyes finally opened. She looked at you weakly as you continued roughly fucking her.

“Keep fucking me! Just like that... oh fuck, you feel so good” she screamed, as you slapped her breast again. She was so ladylike whenever you two were in public, most people would be surprised at how much she loved dirty talking in the bedroom.

“Pound this bad girl’s slutty pussy! Fuck me like the slut I am!”

Hearing her dirty talk ignited a newfound drive in you, welling inside your body. She never thought of herself that way literally, but knew you both were turned on whenever she said such vulgar things. Your hips rocked back and forth as she felt you stretching her out. Your hands now held onto her neck as you softly began to choke her.

“Look at wet oppa’s slut is!” you moaned as your sweat dripped onto her milky white body. You felt your release fast approaching.

“I love when you fuck me like I’m some cheap whore, oppa!” Yerim screamed as she smiled naughtily at you. “A whore who deserves to be punished by her master”

Your stamina was beginning to deplete as you felt your limit approaching. You thrusted into her several more times roughly before she gripped onto your waist and pushed you deep inside her. Your load sprayed deep inside her, spreading all over her warm and wet walls. Both of you moaned in ecstasy as your head throbbed inside her, releasing until you felt there was nothing left to give. Both of you panted deeply as she grabbed your face and gave you a tender kiss. You pulled your cock out of her, Yerim moaning as her bright red freshly fucked pussy began to leak out your white present.

One load was never enough for a slut like Yerim. It was now nighttime as your phone on the nightstand began to ring. You raised your head just high enough to see who it was from. Jeon Heejin.

“Heejin’s probably wondering where you are” you said, as you were currently inside Yerim. She was currently on all fours on your bed, her soft ass rippling every time it came into contact with your stomach. You doubt she heard or even cared what you were saying as she was too horny while being fucked. You smacked one of her cheeks loudly, causing her to yelp from the stinging pain.

“Hi, Heejin” you said, slapping Yerim’s ass once more.

“Oppa!” Heejin was a cute girl you met one day who introduced you to Yerim. You were close to her and her friend, Kim Hyunjin.

“Oppa, are you busy? The girls want you to come over for drinks!”

“Right now?” you asked as you began to think of excuses of why you’d be late. You couldn’t just say you were currently inside their friend.

“I, uh...”

“Wait, are you fucking Yerim?” she asked you suddenly. You were surprised, how did she know? The call went silent as both of you heard the squelching sounds coming from Yerim’s wet pussy. Yerim’s unique voice could be heard even through her erotic moans.

“You are fucking her! No wonder she’s not here with us right now” Heejin teased. “What position are you fucking her in?”

You sighed. You certainly didn’t expect Heejin to be so vulgar or smart about knowing Yerim’s whereabouts.

“She’s being fucked doggy” you said as you slapped Yerim’s ass once more. She let out a loud moan as you continued fucking her.

“That sounds so hot, oppa! I want to be fucked like that by you too!” Heejin said cheerfully.

“Yerim’s getting fucked? I want to get fucked by oppa! Oppa, it’s Sooyoung! Why haven’t you fucked me yet?”

Amidst the complaints from the girls about whose turn was it to have sex with you first, you groaned as Yerim began to fuck herself onto you.

“We’ll be there in a few hours” you quietly moaned to Heejin.

“Wait, no! It’s okay! I’ll just come over and feel that hard cock pound my pussy!” Heejin said.

Yerim’s walls began to constrict your cock, squeezing tightly. You knew she was about to cum soon. You powered on, your own orgasm soon approaching. You slapped her ass as Yerim began to scream.

“So it’s settled! I’m coming over to get some dick” Heejin said, not caring that she was listening to another woman get fucked by you. “We’re almost done here anyways, how does 10 sou-”

“I’m cumming, Yerim” you groaned as you put your phone on speaker and dropped it on the bed.

You pulled out of Yerim as she got on her stomach and took your cock inside her mouth. Several bobs were all that it took as you pushed her head down and released. You groaned loudly as her walls were painted with your white present, mirroring what occurred hours ago. You slapped your cock on her tongue a few times as she crinkled her eyes. You watched as she tilted her head up and saw your load travel down her throat. She took your tip inside her mouth a few more times to clean up the last remaining traces of cum.

“Oh fuck...” you moaned.

“That was pretty hot, oppa. Did you make her swallow?”

You forgot you were still on a call with Heejin. Knowing her, she put it on speaker for all to hear.

“Yeah...” you weakly responded.

“No, you can’t come over! The only thing coming here is oppa inside my mouth and pussy!” Yerim yelled.

“You’re not the only slut who likes cum!” Heejin yelled back as she ended the call.

You laid on your bed, exhausted. Yerim was back on her stomach as she took your slowly erecting cock back into her mouth. She gave soft kisses on your tip before sucking sensually. You stared at her beautiful big eyes and smiled.

“If Heejin’s coming over, I better drain as much as I can from you” she said as she slapped your shaft on her cheeks.

“You know Heejin’s my girlfriend, right?” You said as you stroked Yerim’s head softly.

“Yeah, but I give better head than her” Yerim replied as she licked your tip, cleaning off your precum.

“Well...”

She shot a mock angry look at you.

“I’m just teasing. Although Hyejoo’s bust is looking big these days” you said.

“Well then... I’ll just have to show you why those two losers don’t compare to me” Yerim said as she stroked your cock several times before climbing onto your lap.

“By the time Heejin arrives, you won’t even remember her name. This cock is mine” she said in a cute voice as you both moaned from Yerim lowering herself onto you.

It was going to be a long, cum filled night.

#asks #loona smut #loona #choerry #choi yerim

[gendercraft]

Outlast: Revisited [Chapter Four: Waylon]

Read on ao3

Synopsis: I’m rewriting Outlast where the first game and Whistleblower are combined, Miles and Waylon are more connected, and also they kiss

Trigger warnings: Sexual assault plus everything already in the game; eye gore

Waylon hopped out of the vent into a tiny, mostly bare room. A Variant sat in the corner, hugging his legs with his face buried in his knees. A metal storage crate barricaded the door. 

“You mind if I move this?” Waylon asked quietly. 

The man shook his head. 

Waylon swallowed and braced himself against the crate. His weak muscles trembled and strained as he pushed. Holding back a groan, he squeezed his eyes shut. When it was finally out of the way he shook his hands out and sighed. 

Poking his head into the hall, he bit his lip. It was empty, the walls covered in plastic, emergency lights still blasting. The rest of the lights had gone out. There were several dead bodies littering the hall, blood smeared on the plastic. One body was completely ripped in half, torso from legs, guts spilling into the floor. 

He snuck into a security room and shut the door behind him. Through the window to a decontamination chamber, a man in scrubs pressed his hands to the glass. 

“Help me, please!” He cried. “I’m a doctor! I need to get home to my…” His eyes widened. He spluttered for a second, then said, “You’re not security. I was… I’m a patient,” he said carefully. 

Waylon stepped closer, brows furrowed. 

“I stole these clothes from a… dead body I found. You gotta let me out of here. Please. Just push the button, open the door. We can get out of here together!” 

Waylon hesitated. He wished he’d recognized the man—if it were really a doctor, he’d leave him to rot, but he couldn’t risk hurting a patient, could he? Fuck. He slammed his hand on the button. 

The doors slid open, and a Variant with a grimace and a red face stepped inside. The doctor/patient gasped and stepped back. 

“No, no!” 

“All of you,” the Variant snarled, grabbing the back of the doctor/patient’s head and slamming it into the glass. Waylon stepped backwards with wide eyes, “doctors and liars.” 

He slammed the man’s head into the glass, over and over and over and over again, thunk, thunk, crack, thunk, blood spurted everywhere. Slipping out of its socket, the eye was crushed against the glass. Blood dripped from his mouth and nose and eyes. Crack! Thin lines stained the glass like a halo. 

Waylon felt sick. Gagging, he backed up until he was pressed against the door. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

The Variant thanked him, then left. 

He’d never seen a man die before today. Never seen a dead body outside of a coffin. Dozens in the last few hours, murdered and worse. The look in the Variant’s eyes, the raw anger, as he crushed the man’s skull… There was no real difference between the doctors and patients now. They were all crazy, all sick. 

And what was Waylon? He watched a man die and only thought, it’s not me, thank God. 

He knew he’d die someday. He didn’t want to be murdered. 

Waylon stumbled out of the room and made his way to the airlock. It sprayed him with that awful-smelling green gas, then let him through. The corpse watched him as he left. He crept through to the closest exit he knew of, but it was jammed and blocked. Dead Variants littered the ground. 

A file caught his eye. He picked it up with shaking hands. 

 From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Resignation for Mental Health, CC 8208 

Ms. Grant, 

 You may receive requests for information from a Mrs. Lisa Park, of Leadville, CO, in the coming weeks concerning the resignation and hospitalization of her husband, Waylon. If so, please forward them to my personal attention. 

 Waylon’s stomach lurched. Lisa? Oh, God… 

 Waylon Park (former consulting contract 8208) resigned due to previously undiagnosed mental illness. I personally visited Mrs. Lisa Park and her sons and broke the news to them, with the “silver lining” that Murkoff Psychiatric would be graciously providing treatment. 

 Mrs. Park had some less than charitable things to say about myself and the Murkoff corporation. I assured her that with her power of attorney she could try to fight the doctors’ diagnoses of her husband’s illness. 

 However, if it were discovered that he resigned under false pretenses, his insurance would be cancelled and the family would be saddled with not insignificant healthcare debts. 

 The paper crunched in Waylon’s fist. 

 Hopefully she understood. 

But if she insists on making a nuisance of herself, or tries to get around me, please let me know. This is one I want to take care of personally. 

 Yours, 

Jeremy Blaire

 Waylon shoved the paper in his pocket. Please say she let it go. Please let her be okay. 

 Blaire’s voice echoed in his head. 

“Somehow not smart enough to realize that the last thing a fly ought to do in a spider’s web is wiggle.” The laptop cracked on the ground as Blaire dropped it. “Somehow dumb enough to think that a borrowed laptop, onion router, and firewall patch would be enough to fool the world’s leading supplier of biometric security.” He tapped his forehead. “Stupid, Mr. Park. More than stupid. In fact, that was crazy!” A sick grin spread across his face. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to have you committed. Mr. Park, will you willfully submit to forced confinement?” He glanced over his shoulder at the three armed security guards that followed him. “Did you hear that, agent?” 

Waylon’s heart slammed against his chest, his fingertips. The fear burned hot in his abdomen, sweat gathering on his brow. 

“He said ‘yes,’ Mr. Blaire.” 

“Great!” Blaire waved his finger. “Oh, and… did I just hear Mr. Waylon Park volunteer for the Morphogenic Engine program?” 

“That’s what I heard, Mr. Blaire.” 

“That was brave, indeed, Waylon. The Murkoff Corporation and the onward march of science both appreciate your bravery… and sacrifice. Maybe you should administer Mr. Park here a light anesthetic?” 

“Gladly.” The front guard stepped forward and wound his arm back. 

Waylon raised his hands. Blinding pain rippled across his face, and his eyes rolled back into his head. 

Waylon ground his teeth together so hard something cracked. He would get back to Lisa and the boys if he had to tear through the entire asylum. 

The next airlock was broken, so he climbed atop a stack of crates covered in a blue tarp and dragged himself on top. Army crawling across, he jumped to the ground. It was pitch black in the hall. He raised his camcorder and flicked on the nightvision. 

He found himself in the cafeteria. Body parts were strewn across like decorations. Someone hummed and mumbled nearby. Bodies hung from the freezer’s ceiling like cured pigs. Flesh teared in the cafeteria, munching. Hands shaking, he crept into the kitchen. 

Waylon gagged. Blood boiled on the stove like someone was making fucking spaghetti, an arm and a hand poking out of the bubbling warmth. He entered the dining area, and behind the glass of the bar, blood splattered across the copious amount already caked on. Around the corner, then he zoomed in to look through the glass at the naked, bearded man sawing into a corpse. 

Keeping his camera up, Waylon’s eyes watered. He stepped forward. 

POP!

The microwave beeped and the head inside exploded. 

“Oh, God,” Waylon choked out. 

“Don’t you look at us,” the man snapped. “I love him.” He pulled out an organ and dropped it into his mouth. 

He chewed with his lips open, blood spurting, tissue tearing. Waylon stumbled back and hurried out of the room. He doubled over and gagged, choked, trying to vomit but nothing coming up. 

Sitting on the ground, he set the camera down facing him. “Don’t ask to see my body, Lisa,” he choked out. “When I die, when you finish the lawsuits that let you pry this footage from Murkoff’s army of lawyers and corporate hitmen, don’t make them show you my body. Just bury it. Or burn it. Let my sons remember me whole.” He looked away and squeezed his eyes shut. “That man is eating human flesh,” he whispered. “He looks at me and I see anger. A little desire. But more than anything, hunger. Please don’t make them show you my body.” 

He grabbed the camera. He didn’t plan on dying, but he would not risk not warning Lisa. 

He passed through a locker room and into a hallway, towards a grated door. A corpse hung by the wrist to set of handcuffs, looped through the grate, holding it closed. He had to get through there to get to the prison, get to the radio. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, yanking at the handcuffs. He’d have to find the key. There had to be a security guard around here somewhere. 

Across from the grate was a boarded up door. The glass above it was broken. He climbed atop the desk resting there and pulled himself through the broken window, hissing as glass cut across his thighs. 

Keeping an eye out for the key, he crept down the hall. Bzzzz! 

Waylon dropped to the floor as the cook came into the hall. His eyes glowed in the infrared, slowly surveying every inch of the blackness. There was that desire in his eyes, that hunger. Waylon kept the camcorder up and swallowed, his skin crawling. Out of all the people in Mount Massive, he did not want to be in the hands of the cook. 

He thought about turning around and finding an alternate way to the prison, but it would take too much time. He’d just have to be careful, quiet. He crept forward. The hall went forward and then to the left, with a room to the right. As the cook disappeared into the room to the right, Waylon hurried forward, still low to the ground. His eyes were on the corner. If he could just get around the corner, maybe he wouldn’t be seen. 

His foot crinkled on a sheet of plastic hanging off the wall. He froze. 

“I can smell you!” 

Shuddering, Waylon crept further into the darkness. 

“Feed me! Feed me! FEED ME!” 

The saw buzzed, bzzz! 

Just keep moving, Waylon. 

He crawled forward in the hall and turned the corner. The man was still busy in the room to the right. In the turn of the hall, the walls were lined with wooden doors. He crept into the first one just long enough to catch his breath. It was bare with just a stack of mattresses on a metal bedframe, no key in sight. He stood up halfway and peeked open the door. 

The hall was empty. He swung the door open and snuck out. 

“MINE! You are mine!” 

The voice was right behind him. He broke into a sprint, just in time for the buzzsaw to catch the hairs on the back of his neck. 

“Fuck!” He gasped, skidding to a stop at the blocked end of the hall and slamming his fist into the door as he barged inside. 

He ran straight across the hall to the next door, barging through that one as well, leading him into a room full of storage shelves and crosses on the wall. A dead end. He looked around wildly, a place to hide, a place to escape. 

“Feed me! Feed me! FEED ME!” 

Waylon whipped around. The cook grinned, blood glinting on his teeth, white in the night vision. He swung the buzzsaw and Waylon leapt backwards. Tripping over his own feet, his back smacked against the ground. The saw came over the cook’s head, and Waylon rolled out of the way, only for burning pain to rip through his leg. 

“FUCK!” He staggered to his feet and felt frantically at the blood dripping down his calf. 

Another swing, Waylon brought his hand up, a slash down his palm. He whimpered and stumbled backwards. 

Then he saw it—an open vent sat above a desk. He ducked another blow and dashed for the vent. His collar caught and he choked, his eyes watering. The cook dragged him backwards and threw him into a shelf. His chest and knee and elbow slammed into the corners. Wheezing, he made another break for the vent. He shoved past the cook and leapt onto the desk as all the lights flicked on. 

The buzzsaw caught the bottom of his foot as he dragged himself into the vent. He curled into a ball and hissed through his teeth. His blood smelled of iron, it was all he could smell, all he could think. He sat up as best as he could, cramped in the little square space, and looked for a seam to rip with his teeth. The cook grunted and cursed as he tried to get into the vent, only to turn and leave the room. 

“I’ll find another way…”

Waylon found a seam in his pants and ripped off what fabric he could. It wasn’t even or clean, but it was long enough for him to wrap around his calf and tie tight enough to hurt. He ripped off another piece for his foot, and another for his hand. 

He was shaking when he dropped to the ground. His foot burning, he bit back a whimper. 

A Variant stood in the corner. He was dressed, thank God, but bandages wrapped around his eyes. 

Waylon held his hands up as the Variant stalked towards him. “Hey, hey… What’s going on, man?” 

“I have an itch.” 

He cringed. “I can’t help with that. Want me to get those bandages off?” 

The Variant shook his head. What could be behind the fabric? 

Waylon swallowed. “Your clothes… you come from upstairs?” He wasn’t wearing the standard jumpsuit the Morphogenic volunteers wore. His clothes came from the Male Ward. 

“Yes.” 

“So you can get around safely, you know how to not get caught?” 

The Variant hesitated, then continued forward. Waylon stepped back. “I can move around.” 

“I need you to find someone for me. Can you do that? I can switch out your bandage for something cleaner.” 

“...okay.”

“There should be an investigative journalist running around here somewhere—”

“Miles Upshur.” 

Waylon blinked. “Y… yeah. How’d you- how’d you know?” 

“He’s been… talking to everyone. Trying to. In the abandoned sections. Headed to the basement, last I saw. Why do you need him?” 

“Find him,” Waylon begged, “tell him Waylon Park, the whistleblower, is headed to the prison. I’m going to get help.”

He stopped walking. “You’re the whistleblower?” 

“Yes,” Waylon said uncertainly. 

“I’ll find him for you.” 

Waylon found a seam in his shirt sleeve and ripped it free. He carefully pulled the bandages away from the Variant’s face. In the sockets, the eyes were completely eviscerated, nothing but bloody pulp. Waylon felt like gouging his own eyes out with a spoon. He bit back a gag and pulled the new bandage around his eyes. 

“Get those clean,” he mumbled, then patted his shoulder. “I need to go.” 

Waylon was back towards the labs, plastic lining the glass walls and laptop carts clogging up the halls. He wasn’t sure if the handcuff key would be around here, but he was just grateful to be away from the cook. 

He looked around for a tense couple of minutes, stepping quietly and keeping an ear out for any buzzing, before he finally found a bathroom with a dead security guard. He snatched the key from the man’s belt and sighed in relief. 

All he had to do now was get back. 

He found his way back to the main hall and stuck his head out the door. The cook grumbled to himself, peeking inside a room, saw buzzing beside him. Waylon swallowed and crouched. He crept into the hall and around the corner. 

If he comes this way, I’m fucked. But the barred door he originally jumped over was in sight. The cook was not agile, couldn’t follow him. It was Waylon’s only strength here. 

He cursed himself, then broke into a sprint. 

“MINE!” 

His feet slapped the floor as the cook raced behind him. Vaulting over a turned over bed and leaping onto a desk, he scrambled up through the window again, the broken glass making more cuts across his thighs. 

Waylon stumbled to the ground. His vision blurred, his head hot. Panic? Blood loss? Both? Whatever. He got the key. 

Unlocking the handcuffs, the corpse’s arm slipped out and thunked to the ground. With shaking hands, Waylon pulled the handcuffs out of the lock and swung the grate open. 

It led into the crematorium. He headed down a short staircase and crept into the room. His heart was still racing, his legs still equipped to run. Something banged on the nearby door as he passed the ovens. He nearly jumped out of his skin. 

Backing up, he watched the door shake again, then stop. He hesitated. 

I have to go this way. 

He watched his steps, stepping over broken glass and litter. The second he passed the door slammed open. The cook grabbed him by the neck and threw him onto his back. Waylon wheezed and kicked, the wind knocked out of him. The cook hauled him onto a wooden slab and raised the buzzsaw. 

“This meat is mine,” he cackled. 

He brought the buzzsaw to his chest, slowly inching forward until red splattered. Waylon threw his head back and screamed. Then the cook pulled the saw away. 

Grabbing Waylon by the legs, he shoved him backwards. The heat of the oven burned the back of Waylon’s head. 

“You stay there,” he grinned, “and cook!” 

Then he threw Waylon into the oven, and slammed the door. 

@wasnt-hiding-in-cuba-for-7-years asked for waylon torture porn so here’s me delivering the best i can this early in the story. more whump later, hope you enjoyed lol 

#outlast #outlast whistleblower #waylon park #camerashipping #outlast revisited

[wxlfstxrx]

My Love (Chapter Two)

I gotta admit, I don't really speak French, so thank you to @slytherinqween for helping me out with translations!! I was so nervous to write this, but I hope you guys like it. Special thanks to @gaeilgelupin and @lumxsmywxrld​ for dealing with my anxious ramblings about this fic the past few days <3 and of course @lumosinlove​ for answering questions I had!! :)

Song in this chapter is Mystery of Love by Sufjan Stevens. Sorry, the actual song that inspired this fic will only come in the next chapter HAHAHA.

-------------------

“Uhh, Harz, are you alright?”

Finn turned his head and found a pair of concerned baby blue eyes staring at him from around the corner of the entryway. He swallowed once, twice, and not trusting his own voice, he shook his head. He turned back and thumped his head against the door again before flipping over and sliding down onto the cold floor. 

Leo’s shadow loomed over him as he approached, crouching before him in a perfect Asian squat that would’ve been comical had he not felt so utterly torn apart at that moment.

“You wanna talk about it?” Leo tried to keep his tone light, but the slight waver in his voice at the sight of his flatmate betrayed him.

“No, yes, I don’t know,” Finn choked out. “I’m sorry, you should go eat if you’re hungry, yeah?”

“Ahh, you know I was just teasing you about the book thing, hmm?” Leo ducked his head to try to get Finn to look at him but he was staring at his hands, which he was wringing together desperately. Anything to distract him, to prevent himself from crumbling completely. 

He nodded, biting his lip hard to stop himself from making a sound as the tears slipped down his cheeks. He pulled his knees up to his chest and folded his arms on top of them, burying his face in the crook of his elbow. He was shivering, whether from the cold or the overwhelming emotions he couldn’t tell, but he curled up tighter into himself as he finally gave in to his emotions. He burst into heaving sobs, the pain in his chest agonising as he thought of the boy he loved walking out of the door just minutes ago.

“Mon dieu,” Leo exhaled shakily as he watched Finn break apart, his heart squeezing tightly. He let his knees fall on the ground, ignoring the coldness of the marbled tiles as he placed his hand on Finn’s arm hesitantly. “C’mere, Harz, c’mere.”

He gently pried Finn’s hands away from himself, and pulled him up slightly so he was sitting on his heels, knees between Leo’s, and wrapped his arms around the still crying boy. Finn barely registered the light threading of fingers through his hair, pushing his curls away from his forehead, and the hand that was soothingly rubbing circles on his back as he buried his face in Leo’s soft cotton tee.

“Je suis là, hmm Harz? Cry it out, it’s okay,” Leo whispered into Finn’s ear as he held him tighter. “Je suis là, I’ve got you.”

******

Finn wasn’t sure how much time had passed before his knees started hurting, and he resigned himself to standing up, tugging Leo up with him. His legs were wobbly and he just stood there for a moment, clutching onto Leo’s arms. 

Wordlessly, he broke apart and nodded his head towards the bathroom, not waiting for a response as he shuffled out of the freezing entryway, sniffling. As he shut the door with a click, he heard Leo moving towards the kitchen to heat up their already cold dinner. 

He braced his hands on the edge of the sink, looking at his quickly bruising knuckles under the bright white light. Lifting his gaze to the mirror on the wall in front of him, he gasped softly. He looked a right mess. His face was blotchy and red, almost completely hiding the freckles littered over his cheeks and nose. His eyes were puffy and swollen, and the bright amber was muted into a dull brown. His lips had been bitten raw and his hair was sticking up in all directions, even more untameable than Pots’. 

Staring at his reflection, he bit back another sob as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. His vision swam. He lifted a palm to clamp down over his mouth and another to his chest, pressing in as hard as he could. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to calm down.

After several minutes of heavy breathing, he turned on the tap and splashed cold water on his face, again and again until he felt his fringe dripping wet. He lifted his thin singlet to dry his face clumsily, not caring that it got damp, and unlocked the bathroom door. 

When he approached the table, he saw that Leo had reheated their takeout and was seated on one of the chairs, plate empty in front of him. His legs were crossed on the chair and his right elbow was resting on the table, his head leaning into his palm. With his left hand, he was using his phone seemingly casually, but the way his right hand was roughly carding through his messy sandy hair, as well as his tense shoulders told Finn otherwise.

He took the seat opposite Leo’s, and the younger boy placed his phone face down on the table. His furrowed brows and darting eyes sent a wave of guilt cascading through Finn, and he attempted a smile, which was frankly more of a fractional upwards pull at the corner of his mouth. Still, Leo’s pursed lips softened into a smile, and he nodded at Finn, scooping some food onto the redhead’s plate, for which he nodded in thanks. 

“Eat, Harz.”

They ate in almost complete silence, save for Leo’s Spotify playlist that was playing through the speaker on top of the television console. As Mystery of Love wafted from the living room through the apartment, Finn whispered a barely audible “Thanks, Leo”. He received a glass of whiskey on the rocks from across the table in response.

“Aren’t drinking, are you, big boy?” He raised an eyebrow at the other boy, pointedly looking at the identical glass in his hand. “You know you aren’t legal yet.”

Leo leaned forward and smirked, “At least I can hold my liquor better than you, big boy.”

Finn couldn’t help but break into a smile at Leo’s cheek and raised his glass to meet his, finding some comfort in the soft clink that followed.

“It’s… It’s alright if you don’t wanna talk about it, yeah? We can, you know, put on a movie, or you can go have an early night if you want to,” Leo suggested a few minutes later, through a mouthful of spaghetti. He swallowed before continuing, “On me doit pas parler de cela maintenant.” 

Finn gave Leo a withering look, while secretly trying to control the rising hormones in him from hearing Leo speak his first language, “You know I don’t speak French.”

Leo hid his bashful smile behind his glass. “We don’t have to talk about it now.”

Finn’s features relaxed and he gave a weak smile, shrugging and returning his gaze to his spaghetti, prodding it with his fork.

Conversation flowed slightly easier between the two boys after that, though Leo tactfully avoided mentioning Logan or the events from earlier that evening.

After their usual routine of washing up, they retreated to the couch to watch Sherlock on Finn’s Netflix account, clutching their glasses of whiskey. Despite the fact that they actually had a decently sized couch, Finn realised that Leo had planted himself at a decently close proximity to him, although they didn’t actually have any contact between them.

Not even ten minutes into the episode, Finn struggled to stay focused, mind drifting to the events that had transpired just two hours ago.

If he hadn’t known for sure earlier before he had kissed Logan, he knew for sure now what the other boy meant to him. The ball of fire that blazed within him at the thought of Logan collided harshly with the shards of ice that pierced his chest when he had left, and Finn knew for sure that with everything he had, he loved the boy with the mahogany curls, often squashed flat under a cap, with the lopsided grin that appeared whenever they were laughing at some inside joke, with the green eyes that reminded him of glimmering emeralds, especially when they caught the sunlight.

Breaking out of his trance for a moment, he glanced surreptitiously at Leo from the corner of his eyes, and found that he was staring right back.

He shifted his gaze back to the television, heart pounding. Was Logan right, then? Did Leo really have feelings for him? I— I see the way he looks at you too, you know? Was this what he had meant? 

Leo had only ever been a teammate to him. Nothing more than friendly. At least, that’s what he had thought.

Suddenly, all the times he had happened to catch Leo’s eye before the other boy turned away quickly made sense. All the times in the locker rooms after games that he had injured himself, and Leo was always hovering nearby, with Logan as Remus assessed his injuries. All the times on the ice, as Finn and Logan had behaved their usual boisterous selves, and Leo had just watched on silently. It all sort of made sense in that moment. 

Leo had moved into Finn’s apartment only recently, when he had secretly admitted to not having enough savings to stay in a hotel, as most rookies usually did. Finn all but grabbed Leo’s bags and drove them to his place after training that day. He simply couldn’t allow the baby of their team to be homeless, not on his watch. Since then, these incidents had occurred more frequently, and Finn had felt some sort of unspoken tension between the two of them, although for the life of him he couldn’t understand why. 

They had developed a comfortable routine, and sometimes while doing the dishes together, Leo’s hands would brush his as they passed the dishes between them to be dried and kept. Other times, they’d be watching shows on the television, not unlike what they were doing then, and Leo would sit less than a foot away from him, propping his feet up on the small coffee table in front of them, ankles crossed. More times than he could count, Finn had fallen asleep on the couch, and woken up in the mornings to a blanket draped over him, and his phone plugged into his charger on top of the television console. 

Finn had always just assumed that Leo was being his usual friendly self, and repaying him back for giving him a roof over his head. Then again, now that he thought about it, it was strikingly obvious. 

He supposed he should’ve been shocked, and perhaps a tad awkward or uncomfortable, but he realised with a start that a violent blush had spread through his face. He brought a hand up to his cheek, feeling its warmth. He quickly picked up his forgotten glass on the coffee table and lifted it to his lips.

Leo tore his gaze away from the television screen to glance at him, and quirked an eyebrow. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Finn choked on his big gulp of his drink, pounding his fist into his chest to alleviate the sudden burning sensation spreading through him. 

Coughing a few times, he got off the couch and stepped over Leo’s feet carefully, heading to the kitchen to get two glasses of water. He returned back to the couch, offering Leo a glass, who took it appreciatively.

The blonde boy paused the episode of Sherlock, but stayed silent, giving him time to organise his thoughts. 

“I—” Finn started, then paused again, taking a sip of water to calm his nerves. “I don’t know,” sigh, “it’s just, things with— with Logan, y’know? I can barely comprehend what he…what’s going on. Sometimes he acts all interested in girls that we meet at parties, drapes himself all over them and dances with them, yeah? But then sometimes, he— Sometimes it seems like there’s something there. I don’t know.”

He paused in his tirade and hung his head, feeling embarrassed and very, very guilty for confiding in Leo about Logan, especially now knowing that the other boy had taken interest in him. 

He shook his head, mumbling, “I’m sorry. I don’t think you’d want to hear all this. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

There was a pause, and then, “Harz, mon chéri… I— god.” Finn turned his head slowly to see Leo lean against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling.

Finn watched Leo’s blonde hair falling over his blue eyes, like sandy shores taming the crashing waves of the ocean. He watched his long lashes flutter as he blinked against the harsh light above them, watched as he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth, following the lines and planes of his still boyish but increasingly maturing features down, down to his exposed neck. He watched the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, and then the shaky rise and fall of his chest.

Leo was beautiful. Try as he might, Finn couldn’t deny his feelings for the younger boy.

“You… You love him, don’t you?” Leo lolled his head to the side, still resting on the back of the couch but now looking directly at Finn. He could see the pain in his eyes, clear as day.

“Yeah,” came his reply, instantly, but so soft that he wasn’t sure Leo actually heard it, until he heard the other boy’s exhale.

“Oui, oui… I guessed so,” Leo smiled sadly. “I just… I— I get it.”

“Nutty, I… You… You’re wonderful. You’re so, so kind, and so, so funny. God, you make me laugh so much. You— You take care of me, though I’m the one almost turning twenty-one here,” Leo chuckled wetly as Finn snorted, his lips pulling into a small smile. “Really, I used to be… I used to be lonely before you moved in, y’know? It was a mess between— between Lo and I. I was so happy when he got drafted, and then— then he chose to stay with Dumo, and I was… Well. But then, you came up to me one day, saying you needed a place to stay,” Finn smiled at the memory, “And I was so happy to have you move in. I wouldn’t have wished for it to be anyone else.” 

He looked up from his lap, and saw Leo seated cross legged on the couch, facing him. His eyes were bright with tears, but he held them back, staring back unwaveringly.

“But… But you don’t like me, oui?” Leo looked so heartbroken that Finn wanted to… He didn’t know what he wanted to do, but he wanted to make the pain go away, somehow. But how could he help Leo, if he didn’t even know how to fix the gaping hole in his own heart? Leo lifted his chin, almost challengingly, “I’m not stupid, I know where this is going.”

“No, but… But here’s the thing. I do,” Finn whispered, unable to meet Leo’s gaze. He just kept wringing his hands together in his lap, digging his nails into his skin hard enough to leave crescent shaped marks. “I like you.”

“Hein?”

“You’re right. Logan and I go way back. We’ve been best friends for four years, and— and I’ve loved him since I met him. But you, Nut,” Finn ran his fingers through his own auburn hair, “You are— I can’t stop thinking about you. Leo,” The other boy’s breath hitched, “Why does something that seems so wrong, feel so so right? Am I wrong? Am I… Am I wrong for feeling this way? Why can’t I get you out of my head?”

Finn stared at Leo with such an intensity, his huge amber eyes searching with desperation for some sort of answer, that Leo couldn’t help himself.

“Oh, Finn,” He pulled the shorter boy into an embrace, inhaling deeply and catching the faint scent of his shampoo. Finn was tucked into Leo’s chest, with his legs resting on top of Leo’s left thigh and dangling over the edge of the couch. Leo’s right leg was bent at an angle, squished awkwardly between the back of the couch and Finn’s back.

Despite the uncomfortable position they were in, they stayed that way for a while, neither of them wanting to break apart.

“Harz,” Leo’s voice was soft, buried in Finn’s red locks, “I… Since I joined the Lions, it was always you. You have no idea, mon chéri. I was drawn to you instantly. Your flaming red hair, your ridiculous game traditions, the way you can’t hold your liquor to save your fucking life.”

Both boys snorted at that.

“I never… I never dared to tell you. Especially when you offered me a place to stay. I couldn’t fuck that up by letting my feelings run wild. I didn’t even— I didn’t even know if you swung the same way, yeah? I was so afraid. But then I saw the way you’d look at Tremzy when you thought nobody was looking. I saw. And it ruined me, but then sometimes you acted… I wondered. I wondered if I’d ever have a chance. I wondered about what it’d be like if you gave me a chance.”

Leo’s hand stilled in Finn’s hair, simply holding him for several heartbeats. Eventually, he sighed, dropping his hands to Finn’s shoulders and pushing him back slightly, holding him at arm’s length, so they could look each other in the eyes.

“Finn, there’s nothing wrong with having feelings for two people at the same time. At least, not completely, not exactly,” He shrugged, “I think that… I think it’s perfectly reasonable. As long as there’s proper— y’know, communication, between the involved parties, and there’s some sort of consensus or compromise, hmm? Communication and understanding are always key, for sure.”

Leo smiled fondly at Finn, and he felt the ice in his heart melt.

“Love is love, is what I always believe in. If you have feelings for two people at the same time, so be it. But do things the right way, oui? There’s always something worth fighting for.”

It was only much later that night that Finn managed to fall asleep, Leo’s words and Mystery of Love resounding in his ears.

******

The sound of his phone ringing on his nightstand woke Finn up abruptly in the middle of a particularly strange dream. Rubbing his eyes, he pushed himself up on one elbow and leaned over, wincing as he felt his back crack.

Hoping that the ringing wasn’t too loud that it would wake Leo up in the next room, he unplugged his phone from the charger, eyes still half-closed. It was five forty-eight in the morning. What on earth…? Finn hit the answer button.

“‘Lo?” His voice was raspy, a combination of the crying, whiskey and sleep. How wonderful.

“Harzy, have you seen Logan?” Dumo’s worried voice crackled through the phone. “Is he with you?”

“Nnnnnnnnnnnngh… No, he isn’t,” Finn said through a yawn, “Why? Didn’t he go home last night?”

“I don’t know, Katie’s sick so we all went to bed early. Usually he lets himself in— he’s got a key, but he’s not in the basement and his room is a mess,” Dumo scoffed, “Well, more of a mess than it usually is anyway. He’s upturned his entire wardrobe.”

“Mmmmmm…. Maybe he went out for a run?” He yawned again. He wouldn’t put it past Logan to be running laps around the block at this time of the morning. Back when they were in Harvard, he would be woken up by Logan at the crack of dawn daily to run with him before classes. Gotta keep in shape, Harz. Not everyone’s blessed with a naturally sexy body, you know? He had rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to respond with a snarky comment, until he had seen Logan’s eyes roaming over his body. That had shut him right up. 

“I don’t know, mon gars, something seems off here,” There was a shuffling sound over on Dumo’s end of the phone, as though he were looking through Logan’s room. Finn found himself drifting back to sleep, though a nagging thought in his mind prevented him from falling asleep completely.

Without warning, Dumo let out a curse in French, loud enough for Finn to jerk away from the phone, hitting his head on his headboard in the process.

“Ow…. What is it, Dumo?”

“His passport is gone. He left.”

#Finn O'Hara #Logan Tremblay #Leo Knut #O'Knutzy #Sweater Weather #Coast to Coast #Lumosinlove #Songfic #But the song only comes in in the next chapter #I know I said that in the previous chapter #But I promise it'll come #My Love

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 15

Warnings: language, literally zero editing

Word count: 3k

A/N: Wow I’m back to updating this story??? A million years later?? I am so sorry to anyone who was following this - but if you’re still reading and still interested, here’s an update! God as my witness, I will finish this. I actually have more ideas and inspiration for where the story’s going now - plus we’re all getting quarantined, so these WIPs have never had a better chance of getting done. Anyways, here it goes! Please let me know what you think! 

The lone monitor beeped steadily, plaintively, in the early morning quiet of the hospital room. Air rattled through the breathing machine, filling unknowing lungs over and over. A starched white blanket was pulled up to his chest, covering most of the bandages wrapped around his torso from the hours of emergency surgery. His left arm was already in a cast and laid on top of the blanket, resting against his stomach. 

Natasha felt sick.

And angry. 

How could she have been so stupid? Acting like a goddamn rookie, for starters, and running to Nick to fix their situation - letting things get out of hand with the Avengers, failing to convince Y/N to get out of here before things got bad. And they were only going to get worse. 

If Nick had been identified, then they were all in danger. And there was no fucking way, to her mind, that he couldn’t have been I.D.’d. This wasn’t a random accident, regardless of whatever the hell the local police wanted to write on the incident report. It was an attack, a warning. First blood. 

Her knee bounced in her seat by the bed, plastic upholstery squeaking with every shift in her weight. She chewed her nails - a habit she thought she had finally managed to kick. A tall nurse, dark curls piled into a bun on top of her head, came in to check Nick’s vitals; she was quiet, efficient, offering Nat a sympathetic smile. 

“If you need anything, just contact the nurse’s station, ok?” Her pink bubblegum, tucked in the back corner of her mouth, was visible when she talked. “And there’s a coffee machine around the corner, in case you need your fix before the cafeteria opens up.”

Nat nodded her thanks as the woman slipped out of the room, her white nursing clogs creaking a little, not yet broken in. 

The sky outside the window continued to brighten, a clear and cold winter morning; she wasn’t sure how long she stared at him before she decided to have that coffee after all. Massaging her temples, she shuffled down the hallway towards the flickering glow of the machine. Her boots echoed on the tiles in the empty hall, the low hum of the coffee machine filling the little alcove near the elevators. It whirred and hissed and spat out her coffee into a blue paper cup with slow, deliberate drips. 

How had she let it get this far? What was she going to do without him? And who the hell could she trust? She winced as the first sip of coffee burned her tongue. It wasn’t as though she didn’t trust the team…but she’d gone to Nick in the first place because they were no longer being objective - Barnes especially, and Rogers was only enabling him. 

Her eyes on the waxed linoleum floor, she barely noticed him standing outside the door of the hospital room. Steve squared his shoulders, directly in front of her, his eyebrows tilted at a thunderous angle. 

“You gonna tell me what the hell is going on here?” he gritted out, the hoarse edge of his voice scraping in his throat. 

Nat didn’t answer, not right away. Instead, she let him stew in the boil of his righteous anger, air tightening between them. The coffee had cooled a bit, but left a funny taste in her mouth - the flavor mixed badly with the mints she’d been sucking on an hour ago. The muscles in her neck and back ached from hunching by Nick’s bed all night, and she arched a little on her feet, stretching and flexing, though the early morning tightness never quiet left her muscles. 

Finally, when the flare of Steve’s nostrils told her he was on the verge of making a scene, she gestured toward the door with her coffee cup. 

“Why don’t you head in there and see for yourself?”

Clenching his jaw, Steve turned and let himself into the hushed dimness of the hospital room. He filled the doorway - he filled most doorways - and from behind Natasha wished he could march into this and save the day, the way he always wanted to. At the foot of the bed, he stopped and rested a hand on the mobile tray waiting there, now cleared of the uneaten food from last night. His mouth turned further down, matching the turn of his eyes as he watched the sleeping man tucked into crisp hospital linens. After all these years, I was so strange to see Nick this way - weak, still, not in command. It shook something loose inside of him, but he tamped it down, cracking the knuckles of his fist. 

“You know who did this?” he said, his voice a low growl under the tone of the monitors. Behind him, Nat closed the door with a soft click. 

“Of course I do - don’t you?” She slipped behind him, sipping from her coffee, and took up her chair by the bed again. 

Big hands curling and uncurling, Steve remained silent. From her spot in the squeaky hospital chair, Nat watched the slant of his profile, reading the rage in every line. 

“Rumlow is dead,” Steve said through clenched teeth. 

“But not the rest of them.”

“Without a leader? They’re just a bunch of thugs.” Steve shook his head. “There’s someone else pulling the strings - someone smarter.” He nodded towards Nick’s prone body. “Someone who knew about Nick. Maybe about all of us.”

Natasha nodded slowly, one finger tracing the rim of her coffee cup. Usually she enjoyed being right. 

Steve scrubbed at his face with his hands, blowing a harsh breath past his lips. He turned away from the hospital bed and paced along the edge of the room, towards the window. With the thin curtain drawn, pale sunlight cast shadows beneath his eyes, sharped the noble angle of his nose. HE never dreamed they’d be standing here, years deep in a life built on lies and duty. Fresh from the army, him and Buck, and no plans - that’s when Sam approached them. Intelligence work, a chance to do something important, to keep fighting the good fight on the home front. 

“They’re all in danger.” Natasha’s voice scraped at the edges of her throat. “You know that, Steve.” 

“I know.”

“It’s time.” He turned to look at her, bits of hair falling from her ponytail to frame her face. Bits of mascara had smudged underneath her eyes, bloodshot and heavy. 

“Make the call,” Steve said, looking back towards the window. “Get Pierce if you have to. It’ll piss off Stark to go over his head, but I’m not worried about his ego.”

Nat licked her lower lip, tracing the chapped skin. 

“What about Barnes and his girlfriend?” she asked, leaning an elbow on the arm of her chair. “I can’t see him being eager to burst their happy little bubble.”

Steve sighed through his nose, crossing his huge arms across his chest. The monitors beeped a lonely rhythm behind him. 

“I”ll handle Bucky. Just get everything ready - make all the arrangements. Do what you have to do.” 

  ***********                                                                                                  

“So for dinner, I’m thinking…we still have that spaghetti squash in the fridge? I could whip up some kind of sauce to go with it…” she peaked her head up over the door of the fridge. “Sound good to you, Buck?” 

Startled, Bucky’s head popped up from his phone. 

“Uh, yeah sure,” he said, ducking back down and resuming the rapid movement of his thumb. 

With a frown, Y/N hip-checked the door closed, bottles rattling inside. 

“Are you listening to me, Bucky Barnes?” she asked, eyes narrowing as she leaned back against the fridge. 

He looked up again - a well-developed sense of self-preservation kicked in when he caught that dangerous glint in her eyes. 

“Yes - yes, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he sighed, sliding his phone into his back pocket. “Whatever you want for dinner is good - I’m fine with the spaghetti squash.”

She was never so easily distracted. 

“What was so interesting?” she nodded his direction. “You’ve been glued to that thing all afternoon.”

Bucky’s shoulders dropped as he sighed, rounding the edge of the counters to approach her in the kitchen. Soft hands reached for her hips, reeling her in closer, sharing heat and heartbeats. The scent of his cologne drifted up on the air between them - spicy, warm, just subtle enough to remain sexy. He leaned in close and pressed his lisp to her forehead, devoted and sweet, and always properly apologetic. 

“I”m sorry, baby,” he said, squeezing her waist softly. “It’s just Steve-”

“Steve?” She looked up at him with a frown, neat little line forming between her brows. “Steve has been blowing up your phone?”

“Yeah, I know.” He shook his head. “It sounds like total bullshit, but I swear that’s all.”

“What’s going on with Steve?” 

Bucky sucked in a deep slow breath, hoping to hide his hesitation. Their “club business” had always taken first place, first priority…the job came first. The job was important. They were saving lives, putting away criminals. But now his girl was pouting at him in the kitchen, and he’s so tired, so goddamn tired all of a sudden - of all of it. Of being a public servant or a hero or whatever the hell. Of duty. He wants to pack it all up and just start driving. Move back to the city - or hell, even the suburbs would be nice. He’d take Y/N to Sunday dinner at his mom’s place; they’d move in together, and Y/N could decorate just how she wanted, and he’d sweat over rearranging the furniture and complain about trips to fuckin’ Ikea and all the other stuff that normal boyfriends got to do. In this moment, this inhale, he tasted it all, the life they could have. A dream they could build, together. 

And all he had to do was come clean. About all of it. 

In the space of an exhale, he faced it. He wanted this. It was on the tip of his tongue. 

And then the next breath. 

“Just club stuff,” he shrugged, feeling the weight of the lie dropping on her. “There’s…been a little drama between the members lately. Nothin’ for you to worry about.” 

With another kiss to her forehead, he turned away and opened the fridge. 

“I’ll put that spaghetti squash in this afternoon if you want me to,” he offered. “That way it’ll be ready when you get off work. Sound good?” 

Y/N nodded mutely, pressing her lips into a smile. She had to admit it was nice having a boyfriend who was mildly competent in the kitchen. 

“Okay, well, I’ve got to get in to the clinic,” she sighed, checking her watch. “Shit! I’ll be late.” Swinging her bag and lab coat over her shoulder, she gave him a final peck on the lips before bolting to the door. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you?” Bucky called from the kitchen. 

“Too cold!” was her reply - and then she was out the door. 

Bucky stared at the closed door for a moment, one hip leaned against the counter, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. He just needed some time. Just a little more time to sort all this out. And then he’d tell her - the whole truth. Everything. And after, they could have a life together, something real, something safe, a home. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Steve again. 

Call me. Now.

Even as he rolled his eyes at Steve’s flare for the dramatic, a little tremor seized Bucky’s heart. Dread hovered in the back of his mind as he swiped his thumb and dialed Steve’s number. 

This could only go badly.

  **********                                                                                                  

One breath.

Inhale to exhale. That was how long it took for him to lie to her. 

Cold fingers wrapped tight around the steering wheel, it was all she could think about. It scared the hell out of her, whatever it was he tried to hide in that breath, whatever he decided to keep from her. He’d never done that before…or had he? Did she know? Would she know? Would she be able to tell? 

Calm down, Y/N. You’re overreacting. She lectured herself, cranking the heat in her car to a higher setting. A top 40 song, thumping beat and repeated lyrics, hummed faintly on the radio; she was running late enough that the morning talk show had already ended, moving on to the daily shuffle of hits and local business commercials. It all went unheard in the worried circle of her thoughts. 

What could he have to hide? Unbidden, her mind flooded with horrible possibilities, every possible answer to that question, and each more horrible than the last. Was he cheating? Another woman was responsible for the constant barrage of text messages pinging his phone? Bucky was handsome, not to mention clever, flirtatious, romantic; she had no doubt he could get any woman he wanted. But his attention and affection for her hadn’t waned - just this weekend he’d planned a beautiful dinner for the two of them, followed by a homemade cheesecake he had slaved over for dessert, and then well…he was certainly still eager in the bedroom. The warning signs just weren’t there. 

So what else? He’d never been secretive about the club before. Avengers business was Avengers business, but he’d never lied to her about it. It turned her stomach sour, and she regretted having those pancakes this morning, the cloying smell of syrup still on her hands making her want to pull over and vomit on the side of the road. 

She knew she was working herself up, letting her mind run amuck, but she couldn’t stop herself. By the time she pulled her car into the parking lot of the clinic, she’d half made up her mind to turn right around, go home, and confront him. The image of herself, half-crazy with ideas of secret affairs or violence or drugs, marching into the house and accusing him of lying - it stopped her short.

God, why am I losing my shit over this? Y/N dropped her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, the car idling in the lot, warm and safe from the harsh winter morning. She’d dealt with shitty men before, she’d survived bad boyfriends. It was impossible to make it very long as a woman without that experience. And yet, somehow, the memory of that paled in comparison to the devastating knowledge that Bucky was lying to her. 

You love him. Oh god, she did, she loved him - she was in love with him. 

She hurried out of the car and into the clinic, preferring to bury herself in wellness checks and vaccines and the flu than to keep thinking on it. 

    **********                                                                                                   

At the reception desk, Charlotte stopped her before she could get to her office.

“Oh! You’re needed at the county hospital today.” She handed Y/N the note, written on robin’s egg blue stationary. 

“I’m sorry? Why?” Y/N squinted at the note, a handwritten scribble. Charlotte shrugged. 

“No real explanation - but the chief surgeon said that they could use an extra set of hands with all the flu cases they’ve got coming in.” She took a sip from her travel mug. “I’ve heard they’re a little overwhelmed down there, since they’re the closest treatment for a lot of people in the county.” 

Y/N sighed, looking back out to her car. She hadn’t planned to drive the extra mileage out to the hospital today; not to mention it would probably make her late coming back for dinner tonight. Digging in her purse, she grabbed her phone and shot off a quick text to Bucky, explaining the change. 

“Alright then,” she huffed, placing her purse back on her shoulder. “I guess I’ll see you later.” 

With a wave to Charlotte and the other nurses, she was back out the door and heading to her car. This time around, she turned the radio up loud, singing along and tapping her fingers on the steering wheel and not thinking about this morning, or her own life, or anything at all. 

    **********                                                                                                   

At the hospital, she was assigned to make rounds for one of their physicians who had called in sick. Simple enough. The elevator ride up was quiet, new nurses and doctors all quiet and polite, but holding down their conversations in the presence of a stranger. 

She started on the third floor recovery ward, making her way down the hall door by door. Bedside manner was always one of her strengths; she could charm most patients with just a few words, breezing through her examinations and questions with ease. Chalk it up to customer service experience, but even the difficult patients usually treated her with gruff politeness, the insistence of her friendly manners forcing them to match with their own. Room by room, she checked charts and asked about pain levels and wrote prescriptions, the morning passing by in hours of sterile white tile and the smell of hand sanitizer. 

Turning a corner onto the next ward, she was just looking up from her clipboard when she caught a glimpse of a familiar shade of red ducking into a doorway. Y/N hurried her steps, her cadence almost a jog as she tried to catch-

“Natasha?” She knew that hair, the back of her jacket, the set of her shoulders. 

Nat was standing in the door of the hospital room, propping it open with one arm, head turned over her shoulder to stare at Y/N with weary eyes. Her face was pale, scrubbed clean of makeup, the bright baby hairs around her face twisting in tight little curls. At the sight of Y/N, she quirked the corner of her mouth up in an attempt at a smile, but it only managed to make her look more strained and exhausted. 

“What are you doing here?” Y/N went on when she didn’t get an answer. Her eyes cut past Natasha to the dim fluorescence of the room behind her. “Is everything okay?” 

Nat stared for another moment, her lips pressed tight together, jaw working back and forth. The hand she held on the door was curled in a small, tight fist, the peaks of her pale knuckles standing out against the long sleeve of her hoodie. Then, still silent, she stepped aside, gesturing for her friend to enter. 

“Come in,” she said hoarsely. “We need to talk.” 

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #biker!bucky #biker!bucky au #biker!bucky fic #marvel fic #avengers fic

[peblezq]

Epiphany

PAIRING:

Older!Richie Tozier x Older!Eddie Kaspbrak

DESCRIPTION:

SPOILER ALERT! Do not read this if you haven't read the book “IT” by Stephen King! I don't wanna ruin the end for you if you don't already know how it ends.

This is my own version of the ending of “IT”, but in the movie universe. So basically, this is how I think IT: Chapter 2 (2019) should end… a whole year before it even comes out, lmao

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Hi! I deleted my fanfiction side-blog because I’m a self-concious moron, so I’m gonna post this on my main blog.

This idea has been floating in my head for a while now, so I wrote it down.

I wanted to write an alternate ending to the novel “IT” by Stephen King, but it’s in the movie universe; so The Losers Club are kids in the 1980s, and adults in the 2010s.

This is a rewrite of the second - and final - battle against Pennywise. I changed a lot of stuff about the battle to fit into the movie universe, however, I kept some references from the book and mini series scattered in here :)

I’m just gonna start right in the middle of the battle scene because there’s no need for me to write the entire book before this, lol.

Sorry if there’s any typos or grammatical errors. I only read through this once before posting, haha.

Story starts below the cut! I hope you guys like it :)

~Pebbs

PART I

The tunnels of the sewer were darker and murkier than they remembered. The rancid stench hit all of their senses like a hundred busses driving on the freeway and hitting a single tree. The blood and bruises on the five remaining losers are just the tip of the iceberg to the pain that they feel. The fear impaled each of them in every way that it possibly could. How did they conquer this thing before? How the hell did they beat IT?

Eddie can feel his lungs collapsing on him like he's left floundering in the ice-cold water of the Atlantic Ocean. He struggles to gasp for air as each loser is preoccupied with their own fear.

Just as Eddie is reaching for his inhaler, he feels a hand grab his with the plastic tube of placebo medication. He looks up, startled, but then quickly eases his tense shoulders as he makes eye contact with none other than Trashmouth Richie.

His brown doe eyes are still prominent and huge, even without his thick frames to magnify them. Blood drips when the corners of his lips lift ever so slightly, revealing a small, but powerful smile. Eddie’s heartbeat thumps so hard that he might have a stroke with the way his blood is flowing through his veins right now. He drops the puffer and folds his hands around Richie’s, returning the smile. All of the losers suddenly notice what's happening, and they all join in, holding hands and suddenly feeling less afraid than before.

The moment is stolen away when Pennywise swipes a large tentacle arm to separate them, throwing each loser to a separate wall in the room. Eddie sees Richie fall on his face, crushing his nose and wailing in pain. He sees his other friends, all grown up and vulnerable as they all scream and groan in pain. He sees his puffer, lying on the cold sewer floor not too far from Pennywise. He frowns, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration as he struggles to crawl over to it. If he thought he couldn't breathe before, he was truly kidding himself. His chest feels like three knives are stuck in various places. One in the back, one in the side, and one close to his heart. As he collapsed on the moist cement, he determined his ribs must be cracked from the sudden impact against the wall.

The gashes on his face start to sting as salty tears roll into them. He pushes himself up, his arms and legs shaking violently as he stumbles to a crouching position. He quickly determines he cannot walk to his desired location fast enough, so he settles for crawling again. He reaches out and grabs the cold, plastic and metal tube with fake medicine, ignoring the fact that the cut on his forearm is coating it in his thick red velvet of blood. Eddie stumbles to his feet, vaguely hearing his friend’s desperate screams for him to stop.

“Eddie!! Watch out!” Beverly croaks out in a hoarse scream. Eddie ducks, stumbling backwards as he does so whilst feeling a rush of air above him before standing up as straight as he can. He notices Pennywise's other arm swoops back in the opposite direction, but he doesn't even flinch. He just glares at the clown as he steps back, avoiding the impact before quickly pulling up his medicine in front of the clown from Hell. Pennywise frowns and starts to charge at Eddie, causing an uproar of screams behind him from his beloved friends.

“It's time to take your meds, asshole!” Eddie belts hoarsely as he squeezes the contents of the medication onto Pennywise's face. The clown stumbles backwards, holding ITs face as it shrieks out in pain. All the losers quiet themselves immediately as IT lowers its hands, revealing half of the clowns face to be melted and burnt. Pennywise sneers at Eddie, its melted mouth drooping as it does so.

Eddie’s sudden adrenaline rush allows him to punch the clown in the face, causing it to fly backwards. Eddie stumbles forward, ready to shoot more medicine on ITs face. Pennywise jumps up, grabbing Eddie as IT slowly grows and shifts into a half spider-mantis-clown nightmare. ITs jaw breaks open, pulling more and more as thousands of rows of sharp teeth reveal themselves to Eddie. The losers start to scream in horror again while Eddie's body goes limp as he catches a glimpse of ITs deadlights at the back of ITs throat.

Ben, Bill and Richie try to help Eddie, but the freeze as they too catch a glimpse of ITs deadlights. Beverly shields her eyes and searches around herself in a panic, trying to find some sort of weapon. The nail-gun that Mike provided them with glimmers in the corner of her eyes, and she quickly stumbles towards it. She picks it up, readies the trigger, and climbs the piping beside the creature. She pushes the end of the gun to its heart and pulls the trigger, causing it to screech out in pain.

The three men on the ground blink and stumble out of their trance whilst IT throws Eddie as it stumbles backwards. Eddie smacks against the cement wall, a loud crack echoes with the impact before he rolls onto the floor. Every loser hurries to his aid, falling on their knees as they gingerly check his pulse.

“Eddie!” Richie cautiously holds Eddie’s face as tears begin to cloud his vision. “Eddie Spaghetti…”

“Don't...call...me...that…” Eddie sputters out, violently coughing up blood to punctuate the end of his sentence. The four remaining losers can't help but smile in this bittersweet moment.

Eddie barely notices the others since his vision is slowly blacking out, only showing Richie’s face in the centre of his pinhole-vision. He attempts to smile at his friend, but it seems to distort Richie’s features, causing him to frown pitifully at Eddie.

“You...looked...better...with...glasses…” Eddie comments.

“And you look like shit,” Richie jokes. “You've seriously seen better days, my friend,” he adds, forcing his lips to form into a faint smile.

“Beep...beep…” Eddie starts coughing again, slightly leaning over to spit his blood away from his friend’s face. Eddie tries another smile, but he knows it looks crooked and forced. He leaves it anyways, willing to spend his remaining energy on this moment.

Richie’s breathing suddenly becomes shallow as the situation sinks in. His hands, still gingerly holding Eddie's face, starts to tremble. He suddenly becomes very aware of his close proximity to Eddie, and to his pounding heartbeat skipping occasionally. His fear builds up, but it's barely for the clown anymore. Richie does not want to lose Eddie. Not again. Not ever.

Richie acts impulsively, knowing that this could very possibly be the last chance he gets to do this. He leans over to close the gap between him and Eddie, locking lips with him. Eddie’s eyes widen for a moment before he gently closes them, leaning into the kiss as best as he can from lying on the ground. Richie smiles into the kiss as he tilts his head to deepen it without hurting Eddie too much.

Ben blinks, completely dumbfounded. He respectfully leans back to not invade their moment. Beverly and Bill lean back as well, but they smile endearingly after the initial shock eases away. Ben’s lips soon tug into a smile moments later.

Richie tastes his and Eddie’s blood in the kiss, but he doesn't care. Richie suddenly feels weak, trembling hands grab onto his hair, pulling him down even more. Eddie suddenly winces in pain, causing Richie to quickly peel away from Eddie.

“Sorry!” Richie blubbered out nervously, feeling like a child again.

“I've… wanted… to do that… for a long… time…” Eddie responded, ignoring Richie’s apology.

Eddie’s eyes started to close, but Richie wasn't having it. “No! No, goddammit, you are not dying on me today!” Richie belted. The three other losers notice Pennywise behind them, sluggishly stumbling towards them for another round.

“Don't…  be… afraid,” Eddie coughs, “and kill… that fucking… clown…” Eddie forces one last smile before letting out a long, slow breath.

“No, Eddie!” Richie yells.

...

“Ed's!” Richie tries again.

...

“Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie’s voice becomes quiet as Eddie doesn't respond. Eddie’s muscles have become slack, and his lips are parted ever so slightly. Richie blinks, and Eddie is thirteen again. His skin is smooth with no sign of ageing wrinkles, and his hair lush and full of life again. Richie is a child again, too. He’s suddenly wearing his glasses, and the sounds of his friends' voices are their voices from their childhood.

“Richie!” Bill yells from behind.

“Richie, its up!”

“It’s coming, Richie!”

Richie can't even decipher whose voice is who anymore as they scream for his help. He cradles Eddie’s face and whispers, “I've always loved you, Ed’s.”

Richie sluggishly stands up and turns around, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pulled into a thin line. He glares at Pennywise who still has a partially melted face from Eddie’s puffer. ‘Don't be afraid,’ Eddie’s voice echoes in Richie's head as he marches towards the demon clown, filled with anger and determination. The losers are not kids anymore, and they’re here to kill this clown.

“First, you kill Stanley,” Richie’s voice is dark, somewhat startling his friends as he marches in front of them. “Then you almost killed Mike,” Richie leans forward and picks up the axe that he dropped a long time ago. “And then you killed Eddie,” Pennywise tilts its head, smugly raising the un-melted eyebrow. “Now I'm gonna return the favour, asshole!” Richie lifts the axe and swings it, slicing off Pennywise’s arm in one swift motion.

“I'm gonna fucking kill you!” Richie screams as he continues swinging the axe at the clown. Black tar sprays out of each gash and floats up in the air above IT as the shapeshifting alien stumbles backwards. The other losers take swings on the clown themselves with pieces of pipery from the sewer floors, impaling it and smacking it with double the force each time.

They get IT to the ground, not showing mercy as they continue to attack the beast. All of them fight with a fire in their eyes that hasn't been lit since childhood.

Richie slices the chest cavity of Pennywise, barely flinching as its black blood sprays all over him. The four remaining losers drop their weapons and kneel beside the creature. They each claw into the monster, ignoring its shriek of pain as they dig deeper inside of IT. They hear cracking and slurping noises as they bury their hands deeper until they find the large cavity they were looking for. They grab the heart together and rip it out with their bare hands.

They keep pulling as they notice a cord attached to the heart, and they rip it right out, revealing the physical form of ITs deadlights. They throw the heart onto the cement and Ben stomps on it, causing it to burst out its gooey black tar blood.

They stare at it for a while as the children and Bill’s wife slowly float down. Bill hurries to her aid whilst Ben and Beverly head towards Eddie. Richie continues to glare at the corpse of the monster, feeling completely numb.

Suddenly, Ben’s desperate voice cries out, “I feel a pulse!”

PART II

They emerge from the depths of the sewers, squinting as they make contact with daylight. Bill adjusts his unconscious wife over his shoulder whilst Richie does the same with Eddie. They all continue to rush towards their cars and they immediately head to the hospital.

~°*°~

Bill’s wife is fine, but she hasn't spoken a word since the incident. The doctors say that the shock of the traumatic event has silenced her, and they can't tell if she will ever speak again.

News on Eddie hasn't come back yet, and Richie can't stop pacing. All he can think about is every moment in his teens after their summer fighting IT. He remembers how every day, the kids slowly drifted apart from each other. He remembers when Ben moved away, and how they rarely saw Mike since he was homeschooled, and how Stanley made new friends that didn't irritate him as much. Stan did still talk to them from time to time, and he said goodbye at the start of summer when they all moved away for college. Richie didn't go to college, he just moved to Los Angeles and auditioned for many talent agencies until he got accepted. He then auditioned for Saturday Night Live, and the rest is history now.

Richie sits down, nervously shaking his leg as he ponders how different his life could've been if he just picked up the damn phone and called his friends once in a while. The only friend he even saw between graduation and now was Bill. Richie never approached Bill, but he saw him at one or two movie premiers with his actress wife - who may be scarred for life now since she just had to come here instead of listening to Bill’s warnings to steer her away from danger.

‘Such a stubborn lady, but I guess that’s why Bill fell in love with her,’ Richie muses to himself as he rests his chin on his hands. His thighs feel like they might become numb if he keeps the pressure he’s using with his elbows right now. Richie pushes his hands further up his face, covering his features as he groans in pain. ‘I probably should've seen a doctor. Every-fucking-thing hurts.’

Richie starts thinking about his relationships - or rather, lack thereof - throughout his adult life. He dated one girl - an actress he worked on a rom-com with in his twenties - but that lasted for maybe a month because their relationship was too public. They were constantly pestered by paparazzi, and they rarely spent time with each other outside of their press tour. He realized that their relationship wasn't real when the buzz from their movie died down a bit. It was all an accidental publicity stunt on their parts. They parted ways on good terms, and they're still good friends to this day, still working on the odd film with each other now and again.

Richie only ever had hookups after that, and he didn't enjoy any of them. He sighs, realizing that all this time, there was one person he secretly wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but it took a battle with the demon clown from his past to have this epiphany.

‘I'm a grown-ass, middle-aged man, and I just now realized that I was suppressing romantic feelings for my childhood best friend? Fuck that. I am not gay!’ Richie groans again, rubbing circles in his temples and he closes his eyes. ‘I did kiss him though. That's...pretty gay.’

“Hey, you should really see a doctor.” Bev’s voice startles Richie, causing him to sit up and look over at her like a deer caught in headlights. ‘God, I hope I didn't say any of that out loud.’

“No, I'm fine,” Richie snaps. He awkwardly looks away, feeling guilty for snapping at her. “I'll leave the medical resources for the people who actually fucking need it.”

“There are plenty of doctors here, Rich. You're not going to stop anyone from saving Eddie,” Beverly sighs, sitting down beside him. “And you do need a doctor, too. You may not be dying at the moment, but you're clearly in a lot of pain.”

“I don't care,” Richie mutters, slouching as he glares at the opposite wall. “I'm not seeing a doctor until I know that Eddie is okay.”

Beverly sighs again, looking off to the side before looping her arm around Richie and resting her head against his shoulder. Richie glances at her over his shoulder and smiles at the floor. “You're hurting my neck,” Richie mumbles under his breath, his smirk more prominent now.

“I don't care. I'm going to sit here like this with you until we know that Eddie is okay,” Beverly replies with a bittersweet smile.

~°*°~

Richie finishes by tightening his tie. He briefly smiles at himself in the mirror. He turns around when he sees Beverly walk in the reflection behind him. He watches her as she examines him, smiling and patting down his shoulders.

“You look great, Rich,” Beverly compliments with a bashful smile.

“Thanks, Bev.”

She pauses. “They’re all waiting for you outside,” she says with a small smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie takes one last look at himself in the mirror, dusting his suit jacket and adjusting his tie one last time. “I always show up fashionably late to any event.”

“This isn’t just another one of your movie premieres, Rich,” Beverly pouts with a raised eyebrow. Richie sighs, suddenly becoming rather fond of his shoes.

“I hope we all continue to stay in touch after all of this...” Richie’s voice falls, and he clears his throat nervously.

“Me too,” Beverly replies, smiling brightly. Richie faces her, and she pulls him into a tight hug. He holds her just as tightly, suddenly feeling the tears overwhelm him.

“Dammit,” Richie mumbles as he wipes his tears over her shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone I cried.”

Beverly pulls back and wipes the second tear that escaped his eyes. “I promise.” He wipes her escaped tear and they give each other quick smiles before walking out of the room. Richie and Beverly meet Ben, Bill, BIll’s silent wife, and Mike in the hallway outside of the room. They all walk close together into the cathedral, and they meet the gazes of all the people who ever knew Eddie Kaspbrak. They all walk slowly, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone as they head for the front of the church. They try to ignore the whispers of people wondering who they all were and how the losers even knew Eddie. Many of them glared, knowing they must be the old friends he went off to visit - and who they believe caused his demise.

The five remaining losers - plus Bills wife - make it to the open casket. They all look down at Eddie’s features that have been touched up to look presentable. Richie’s eyes are stuck on the cleaned and stitched gash on Eddie’s cheek, remembering the blood no longer oozing from it as Eddie took his final breaths. His eyes then fell to his lips. They’re pale and cracked, and there’s no trace that they were ever coated in his own blood. Richie ponders that Eddie’s lips no longer look as soft as they felt when Eddie was still alive. Richie blinks when he realizes that his own tear hit Eddie’s nose, and he quickly started rubbing at his own face, trying to rid himself of them.

All of the losers joined hands and leaned in around Richie, protecting him like a forcefield. They all loved Eddie, but Richie’s love for Eddie was so much more, and every remaining loser learned that the moment Richie kissed him.

“Why did you have to die?” Was all that Richie was able to croak out that day before his best friend - his soulmate - was buried.

#reddie #richiexeddie #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #bill denborough #stanley uris #the losers club #IT #it 2017 #it 2019 #it sequel #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #older!richie #older!eddie #older!beverly #older!bill #older!ben #older!mike #older!stan #major character death #fanfcition #it fanfiction #it fandom #reddie fandom #gay relationship

[persephones24]

One Night

Imagine: Meeting Spencer at a bar and you two spend the night together.

Paring: ReidxReader

The loud music rang through the bar. A group of people dancing on the dance floor, grinding and touching on each other. You sat at the bar, a glass of whiskey sat in front of you. You are wearing dark blue jean short shorts, a white spaghetti strapped bikini shirt that flowed down to your waist, silver three inched heels. You took a sip of the amber drink, turning slightly to look out at the bar. An annoyed look on your face. You was there with your friend, Marisa, but she left with some guy named Phillipe, so you won’t see her until tomorrow afternoon. You more than wanted to find a guy and have a good one night stand. Lord knows you needed it, being more than a year since anyone been near your sex.

As you go to order another drink, you feels a light tap on your shoulder. You turns to glare and curse out who ever it was but then as those chocolate brown eyes stared intently at you, decided against it. He was skinny, and tall, about 6’1. He was wearing a purple button up with a dark purple vest, black slacks, and black and white converse. His brown hair was messy, his eyes glossy, indicating that he was already drunk. A tint of red covered his cheeks. He looked behind him at a group of people sitting at a table, they are starring over at the two of you, mischievous smiles on their faces. He turned back towards you, he opened his mouth, but before he could speak, you beat him to it.

“So what did your friends dare you to do, Gorgeous."

His eyes grew big, he starring at you, not knowing what to say. You cocked a brow and downed the rest of the whiskey. “So what was it? To see if you can get the hot girl in bed.”

“No not that… just… if I could make out with you, is all?”

He looked down at his shoes. A light chuckle escaped through your lips. You reached for his hand, standing up in the process. Your eyes sight was set to his lips, he had very beautiful lips. Your eyes roamed up until they met his. You bit your lips, noticing how his eyes immediately drifted to them. Wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers combing the back of his hair. Leaning up on your tip toes, lips ghosting his.

“I guess we need to give them a show, huh, gorgeous.”

As if on cue, he leaned into you, lips finally meeting. At first it was soft, testing out each other. Then it became heated, he deepened the kiss, nibbling at your bottom lip. Gasping, you opened your mouth a little, he slid his tongue in your mouth, licking the roof of your mouth, grazing over your teeth. Sucking, biting, tugging on your bottom lip, you moans, your grip on his hair tightening. Releasing your lip, he kissed along your jawline, moving down your neck, sucking a mark in your skin. As your head fell back, you pushed your body flush against his. Never in your life have you been so turned on by just kissing. Foreplay would get you in the mood, but never kissing. A shiver ran up your spine as his hands traveled up your sides. Separated, a small whimper left your lips, causing the gorgeous devil to smirk.

“That was better than I expected.” Scrunching your nose, you look up at him in confusion.

“Did you expect it to be bad?”

“No no no no… I didn’t mean it like you’re not a good kisser, you are amazing… I just…um I find you sexually attractive… and the kiss got me... um kind of bothered… and I would like to continue this some place else… I don’t want this to end.”

“So you’re telling me that you want to have sex.”

His face turned deep red, looking down at his shoes, nodding. You couldn’t help think that this gorgeous devil is super adorable. Leaning up to his ear, your words coming out in a hushed whisper.

“My place or yours?” His eyes widened.

“Wait for me outside.” He said, as he sped walked over to his friends. Their faces filled with shock. Paying for your drinks, you made your way to the door, glancing towards the table, watching him tell his friends something, their mouths hanging even lower as some of the guys pats him on the back. Waiting a few minutes, you felt hands wrap around your waist.

“You haven’t said where we are going?”

“My place. It’s down the street.” He removed himself from behind, taking your hand, leading you away from the bar. While you walked in silence, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to this beautiful specimen of a man before you. He's not the type that you are normally attracted to. Hell, he's not even the type of man that you takes home for a night but there is something about him that makes your heart skip. Realization sets in.

“Um… I haven’t gotten your name.”

He turned to look at you, a smile tugging at his lips. “Spencer... Spencer Reid. Yours?

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/N… I like that.” OH MY LORD, you thought as your stomach began to do flips, heat pooling between your legs. Just hearing your name roll off his lips gave you goosebumps. What other words he would be saying tonight, you wondered.

Coming up to his apartment, he lets you into the lobby, following him up to his door. Unlocking the door to his apartment, he held it open for you to walk in. As soon as the door was closed, He had you pinned to the wall, hands held together above your head, as he kissed you. Pushing up your shirt, he quickly discarded it to the floor, relieved that you weren't wearing a bra. Using one hand to hold you at bay, he took his other hand and massaged your breast, earning him another set of moans. Kneading and massaging your breast, tugging on the erect nipple. He roamed down your body, kissing, sucking, and gentle biting the sensitive skin.

Releasing your hands, he unbuttoned your jean shorts, using both his hands to grip them and yank them down your legs, panties following. Unstrapping each heel, he tossed them behind him. Now completely naked, Spencer starred up at you body, his eyes lust blown, watching you shiver and squirm under his gaze. You bent down, unbuttoning his vest, then his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders, the urge for him to be as naked as you are.              

Kissing up your leg, grazing his teeth along the tender and sensitive flesh, legs shivering. His hands moving to cup your ass as he licked the inside of your thigh. He blew at the moist sensitive bundle. Flattening his tongue, he licked a long strip, tasting your already wet core, groaning in response. Your hands immediately went to his hair, tugging it while your hips bucks into his mouth. Throwing your leg over his shoulder, he licks deeper inside, softly sucking your clit. Your head falls back against the wall, loud, coherent moans filling the room.

Groaning in frustration, Spencer wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up as your legs wrapped around his waist, taking you to his bedroom. He playfully tossed you on the bed, causing you to giggle in the process. He stood back, eyeing your body. You ran your hands up your sides, caressing your breast, pinching and rolling your nipples. Discarding the rest of his clothes, his cock standing at attention on his stomach. The bed dips as he sits beside you, his lips finding yours again. His tongue ran across your bottom lip, biting it, pulling it until you shook in ecstasy.

Kissing down your body, his mouthed enclosed around your erect buds, sucking on them gentle. You moaned loud as your back arch, head thrown back. Biting gentle on your bud, pinching the other one between his fingers. He peppered kisses down your stomach, each kiss burning from their touch. Gently spreading your legs apart, massaging your thighs. He spread your folds, stroking you, his thumb creating small tight circles on your clit. You tried to close your legs, trying to get more friction between your legs, but his grip on your thigh forced you to keep them at bay. Biting your bottom lip, holding back your moans  of pleasure, you sit up on your elbows, looking down at him. Chocolate brown eyes starred intensely at you, a devilish smirk spread on his lips.

Licking his lips, he licked your folds. Sucking your clit into his mouth, he groaned from the back of his throat. Your hands immediately went to his beautiful messy locks, trying to push your sex more into his mouth. He began eating you out, licking and sucking on your clit, eventually his tongue went inside you.

“Oh…my god…..Spen… ah, Fuck.” You said as you drowned in the pleasure that his skilled tongue is giving you. He inserted a finger, hooking upwards as he searched for the spot that will make you go weak. Closing your legs around his head, he continued fucking you with his mouth and fingers, him moaning in enjoyment. Waves and waves of pleasure shooting through your body, moans filling the room. Seeing stars, you arched your back, screaming his name. As you came, his tongue lapped at your juices that flowed onto his tongue, milking you through your orgasm.

Coming down from your high, your breath coming out heavily. Spencer removed his fingers from your dripping wet pussy, then put them in his mouth, sucking on your juices, moaning. You watched him, soft whimpers coming out of your mouth, chest heaving rapidly as you became aroused again.

Reaching for him, you took hold of his hard cock, stroking it, spreading pre-cum over his hard shaft. You pumped him a few more times before getting on your knees in front of him. Licking his shaft from the base all the way to the tip, tasting the saltiness from his pre cum. You swallowed him whole, trying to take most of him in your mouth, using your hand to stroke the base of his shaft. Moaning again, the vibration making his dick twitch, you began bobbing your head, stroking him with one hand and massaging his balls with the other. Using your tongue to lick the vein of his dick, hollowing your cheeks, sucking him even harder. His hands tangled in your hair, thrusting his hips gentle into your moist, wet mouth. Looking up at him, his eyes closed shut, his long hair sticking to his face due to the sweat, just seeing his face in such ecstasy makes you even more aroused.

“F-fuck… Your mouth feels so good.” Thrusting faster into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You brought your hand to his ass, pushing him deeper into your mouth as you relax your throat, letting him take control. A deep moan fell from his lips as his grip on your hair tightened.

“Wait… I’m going to…. God… stop.” Removing your mouth off his cock, he tugs on your hair, bringing your lips back to his, tasting each other excitement. With his hands on your waist, he gentle laid you on your back, him between your legs. Spencer reached over towards his nightstand, and dug out a silver foil. Putting the condom on his erection, he positioned himself at your entrance. You gripped his biceps, biting your bottom lip as he enters you slowly.

He stilled, letting you get use to his size before he snaps his hips into you. A sharp gasp fell from your parted lips, your grip on his bicep tightened at each thrust. Leaning down, his lips crashed into yours, swallowing your moans. Snaking your arms around his torso, clawing at his back, you wraps your legs around his waist, making him go deeper inside you.

Switching positions slightly, he hits your g-spot, making your body shiver, arching your back far, your breast touching his. Moans and whimpers fell from your lips at every thrust. Not even caring that the sound that are coming out of your mouth can be classified as a porn star, but the pleasure that Spencer is giving you is amazing.

Taking hold of your legs, he throws them over his shoulders, ramming into you deeper, the sound of skin against skin feeling the room. His hand ran down your sides until they made it to your core. As he found your clit, he rubbed at your clit, earning him with more erotic moans. Lifting up her hips, she thrust into him, matching his in unison. Feeling your core becoming too much, your orgasm threatening to snap and send you into euphoria she is close to her release.

“That’s right…. I want you to come…. Come all over my dick… Fuck… do it.” Picking up speed, he slammed into you, making the headboard hit the wall repeatedly. He rubbed your clit even faster, feeling your walls contract. Your toes curled, back arched and head back, you screams your orgasm. Your body convulsing as it hit its peak. Thrusting a few more time, Spencer came with a low grunt, as your walls milk his dick dry.

Pulling out of you, Spencer collapsed beside you, disposing the condom in the waste basket beside his bed. Looking over at you, he began playing in your hair. After laying there, your breathing going back to normal, you sat up, making eye contact with Spencer.

“Well, that was amazing. But I don’t want to intrude on your place any more than I already have.” Getting up from the bed, you felt a hand on your elbow, pulling you back down.

“I can go for another round… Maybe 3.” With a devilishly smile, he tugged you, kissing your lips again, hand tangled in your hair, deepening the kiss. Moaning into his lips, you straddled his hips, as his fully erect cock laid against your thigh. A smile dancing on his lips. This is going to be a fun night.

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds one shot #smut #spencer reid smut