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munson-blurbs · 1 year

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Chapter 2: Don't Know What You've Got Till it's Gone

Collaboration with the Dustin to my Suzie, @corroded-hellfire 💚

Series Summary: Based on the Jonas Brothers song of the same name. You and Eddie share a hospital room in the wake of Hawkins' turmoil, striking up an unlikely friendship that could lead to much more.

Chapter Summary: You and Eddie are getting closer, and his friends can't help but notice something between you two. But when you receive devastating news, the pressure of being his upbeat, optimistic Sunshine becomes too much to handle.

Warnings: eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), Eddie survives the Upside Down, hospital, mentions of surgery, description of Eddie's scars, controlled use of pain medication, angst

WC: 6.6k

Divider credit to @firefly-graphics

“Yeah, well, next time I tell you not to be a hero, you’d better listen to me.” A man’s voice stirs you from your sleep. You gently roll over onto your side and see fuzzy shadows behind the curtain that separates you and Eddie.

“Hold on, Harrington,” Eddie pushes himself up slightly, an edge to his voice. “What do you mean by next time?”

“He’s still out there,” a younger voice pipes up. “We wounded him, but—” He stops abruptly, turning his stocky frame towards the curtain. “Hey, can your roommate hear us?”

“She can!” you chirp, and utterances of shit and shut up fill the room. “Don’t worry; I won’t tell anyone about your nerdy D&D secrets.” Eddie had spent the better part of the last few days explaining the ins and outs of the game, taking far too much pride in his Dungeon Master status for a man pushing 20.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Eddie calls out. “You decent? Want you to meet my friends.”

“Sorry, did we wake you?” A girl asks, but your view of her is obstructed by the curtain. “We have a tendency to be a little…”

“Loud?” The older of the guys offers. “Obnoxious? Grating?”

The boy shrugs. “That’s just the way we roll, man.”

“What do you mean ‘we?’” The first guy retorts.

“I’m all good, Eddie,” you say. Now that you’ve given the all clear, the older boy tugs back the curtain. You recognize him as Steve Harrington, who graduated with you last year.

“Steve,” he says, sticking out his hand for you to shake. “And, FYI, I do not play Dungeons & Dragons.”

You can’t help but let out a snort of laughter as you shake his hand and introduce yourself. “A shame. Eddie makes it seem like such fun.” At your sarcastic tone, Eddie flips you off, but you ignore him and continue. “We, uh, actually graduated together.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, eyebrows shooting up so high they almost blend into his perfectly coiffed hair. “Huh. You think I’d remember that.”

“I mean, it’s understandable you’d forget,” you say with a shrug. “You had just lost the last basketball game of the season.”

“Ouch,” Steve says, holding a hand over his heart. “But that doesn’t excuse the four years we were in the same class.”

Wincing, you give Steve another shrug. “More like seven. We went to middle school together, too.”

“Well, shit,” Steve says, running a hand over his face. “Yeah, I was a douchebag.”

“Was?” a feminine voice chimes in. Steve rolls his eyes and turns to the side to reveal the younger guy and a girl your age that are sitting next to Eddie’s bed.

“Robin, right?” you ask. She perks up in her seat, seeming pleasantly surprised that you know her name.

“Yeah,” she says.

“You’re in band, right? I’m friends with Vickie, and I know she’s mentioned you a few times,” you explain.

“R-Really?” Robin asks, eyes widening.

“Mhmm,” you hum in confirmation, watching an unmistakable grin grow from cheek to cheek. You’ll have to follow up on that another time if you have a moment alone with her. “And you are…?” you start, turning towards the curly haired boy hoisting himself up on crutches, braces adorning his teeth.

“Dustin Henderson,” he affirms. “Artificer: Master Inventor and future Hawkins High valedictorian.” You shake his hand, giggling as the three older friends roll their eyes in unison at his introduction.

“Don’t forget ladies’ man,” Robin taunts, and Dustin hoists up two middle fingers in response, fumbling to keep the crutches secured under his arms.

“Sunshine here is a ballet dancer,” Eddie says, trying to steer the conversation away from the topic of love. You watch as Steve and Robin exchange an amused glance, with the former mouthing Sunshine and the latter just shrugging. “She does, um, pointe?” He looks at you hopefully.

You nod. “Yup! I’ll be right back at it as soon as this bad boy heals up.” You gently pat your leg, grimacing as even the lightest touch sends sharp pains down to your toes.

You talk with the group for a few more minutes, swapping gossip about people from your graduating class, until Mandy knocks on the door. “It’s time for your appointment with the surgeon,” she says politely.

“Surgeon?” Eddie asks, brows crinkling in confusion.

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer, leaning on the nurse as you maneuver into the wheelchair. “Just, um, protocol with this kind of injury. Make sure everything’s good and all that.” He seems to buy this answer, and you breathe a silent sigh of relief. “It was nice talking with you all!”

Once you’re out of the room, Dustin turns to Eddie. “So,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. “Sunshine?”

“Shut up, Henderson,” Eddie grumbles, throwing a pillow at the boy.

“Yeah, be nice to him,” Robin teases. “That nurse just took his sunshine away!”

“So, are you involved with this sunshine?” Steve asks, an amused expression written all across his face.

“No, not like that,” Eddie says, suddenly finding the hem of his scratchy blanket fascinating. “Just friends.”

“You guys get along well,” Robin says, more statement than a question.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees.

“And she’s beautiful, yeah?” Robin asks, raising her eyebrows at Eddie.

“Well, yeah,” Eddie says.

“So, what seems to be the problem?” she asks.

Eddie groans, dropping his head back against his pillow. Never mind the fact that Steve “ladies man” Harrington–an actual ladies’ man, not like Henderson–is in the room, but Eddie’s never been particularly comfortable talking about his experience—or rather lack thereof—with girls. There’s also the fact that he was literally attacked by bats from an alternate dimension, barely escaping hell with his life intact. And you’re so bright and sunny and the total opposite of what Eddie brings to the table.

“It’s just that she… I mean, I… you see, we—.”

“Oh, cut the bullshit, Munson. Stop playing games. We all see the spark,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest indignantly.

“There’s a spark?” Eddie asks quietly, lifting his head from the pillow and infinitesimal amount.

“I knew it!” Dustin exclaims loudly, earning an angry shush from someone passing through the hallway. “Look at the stupid grin on his face! Eddie wuvs his Sunshine!” He leans over to pinch Eddie’s cheek, but gets his hand slapped away.

“I don’t love her!” Eddie hisses. “Now, if you idiots could stop bothering me about this, and we can talk about anything else.”

“Okay, we’ll stop,” Robin agrees, but the mischievous smirk on her face says otherwise, “when you look me in the eyes and can tell me you don’t have feelings for her.”

Eddie lays back down and pulls the covers up over his head. “Goodnight and goodbye,” he mutters, despite the fact that it’s only 10 AM.

Steve yanks the covers back down, laughing when he sees his new friend scowling. “Calm down, man,” he says, sitting down on the starchy blanket, careful not to bump into Eddie. “We’re just messing with you. We’ll behave now.” He shoots Dustin and Robin a warning look, and the two grumble their apologies.

“‘S fine,” Eddie mumbles. “I’m tired anyway, so…” He lets his gaze fall to the doorway.

“Yeah, of course,” Robin says with a small smile. “We’ll visit soon.”

“Get well soon, buddy,” Dustin lowers his voice as quietly as he can—which isn’t saying much, given his normal volume. “The kids of the future are counting on more of your sadistic campaigns.”

As Eddie slips into a medicated slumber, he makes a silent prayer for sweet dreams. Your image appears in his mind, and he can’t deny the warmth it brings him.

Shit, he thinks. Those morons were right. I have a thing for Sunshine. He hopes that he’ll dream of you now that he’s admitted his crush.

No such luck.

The skies are red and gray, strange bursts of some sort of lightning fill the air. Weird shrill squeals fill the dead air. Eddie’s body is full of pain, searing and bleeding wounds making it difficult to breathe. Quick gasps leave his lips, his hands clutching at the ripped shreds of his shirt.

“Eddie! Shit!” Dustin’s voice rings around Eddie. The shorter boy is somewhere in the distance, not too far. “Steve! SOS! SOS!”

Soon, two pairs of hands are on Eddie’s body, trying to help, but only making the pain worse. He tries to steal himself against it, but it’s no use. The tears come, hot and thick as they build up in his eyes. The fear, the desperation, the pain. It’s all too much.

“Eddie?”

It’s not Steve or Dustin’s voice that Eddie hears above it all. It’s yours. But what are you doing in this God awful place? It’s the very last place that Eddie wants you.

“Eddie!”

The darkness in the sky fades, a subtle light beginning to shine through. Then, the next thing he knows, Eddie is blinking his eyes open in the bright hospital room, his face sticky with the trail of tears. He rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Once his vision is cleared, he sees you being wheeled into the room in the wheelchair you were brought out in. Your face is pinched in concern and it takes Eddie a moment to realize you’re concerned for him.

“Can you wheel me over to Eddie’s bed instead? Thanks,” you say to the transporter, who does as you request. Eddie scoots over and pulls down his blankets, silently offering you the space next to him. Biting your lip, you look around as if you’re debating, before pushing yourself up onto your good leg and holding out your arms for balance. Immediately, Eddie reaches over and takes your hand so you can use him to steady yourself. Shooting him a grateful smile, you’re able to situate yourself on the edge of his bed.

The transporter looks like he doesn’t know if he should be allowing this or not, so he quickly puts his head down and leaves the room with the wheelchair. Eddie helps you get situated next to him before he pulls the blankets up over both of you.

“Another bad dream?” you ask once you’re comfortable.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs.

“Was it as bad as the first time?”

“At first. But I heard you calling me a lot earlier this time. Got all nice and light again before I opened my eyes. How’d it go with the surgeon?”

“Oh,” you say, averting your eyes. “Nothing special. Just going over X-rays and tests and stuff, ya know?” You clear your throat, anxious to have the subject changed. “You know when you’re getting out of here?”

“Not yet,” Eddie says, sinking back against his pillows.

“What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get out?” you ask.

“Honestly? Get a fucking cheeseburger. This hospital food is shit. I mean, come on. What a man gotta do to get something better than gray mashed potatoes and lime Jell-O?”

“Okay,” you say with a giggle. “After you get some good food, what are you gonna do?”

“I dunno,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Haven’t really thought about it.”

“Oh, come on,” you say. “What’s Eddie Munson’s big dream? Be a big rock star? World tours? Opening for Ozzy? No—Ozzy opening for you.”

Eddie scoffs, gently nudging your shoulder with his. “Before all…this…happened, I was thinking about moving to Indianapolis after graduation. Get involved in the music scene there.”

“Indianapolis?” You wrinkle your nose. “That’s honestly super boring. You survived an earthquake and you’re only gonna go to the state capital?”

“Fine,” he whines exaggeratedly, smiling as he does it. “How about…Australia? I can be, like, a kangaroo farmer.”

“Is that even a thing?”

“It is now.” His loose, tangled curls brush up against the part of your shoulder left exposed by the pale blue hospital gown. “What about you? New York City? Maybe dance on Broadway, or be one of those…Christmas, kicking girls?”

You snort out a laugh. “A Rockette?”

“Yeah.”

“Eh,” you shrug, pushing away the thoughts of the news you’d just received from the surgeon. “New York’s nice to visit, but I need someplace warm. I’m thinking of going to California.”

“Just don’t forget about me when you’re a big Hollywood star,” Eddie teases, though there’s a hint of seriousness in his voice. “And if the movie you’re dancing in needs a band, you know who to recommend.”

“Of course. But do you really think I could get Tears for Fears to play?” His shove is a bit harder this time, making both of you groan as you laugh. “Kidding, kidding. You know Corroded Coffin will be at the top of my list. If you’re not too busy with your own gigs.”

Never too busy for my Sunshine, Eddie nearly blurts out, but he says instead, “will do.” He’s silent for a bit before asking, “Why didn’t you go to California?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you going to college in Indiana and not California?” Eddie tries again. “I mean, you said it yourself: the entertainment scene is much better there than here.” He scrunches up his nose. “Actually, why are you even in college?”

You bark out a laugh at the bluntness of his question. “Um, because that’s what people do after high school?”

“You don’t have to, though,” he quips. “Think about it, Sunshine. College will always be there, but if you wanna pursue dance, you’ve gotta do it while you’re young and, uh, limber.” His cheeks blush a delicious shade of pink.

“Yeah, well.” The truth comes tumbling out before you can stop it. “My parents didn’t think it was a good idea. Just dancing. They wanted me to go to get my degree; build a ‘solid foundation’ or whatever.” You trace invisible spirals into the blanket as you speak. “My dad told me that he could never tell his friends that I danced for a living, because they would, and I quote, ‘think that his daughter was a stripper with daddy issues.’”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to laugh. “First of all, stripping is a noble profession, and I do not approve of any stripper slander in my home.”

“We’re not in your home,” you point out.

“I do not approve of any stripper slander in my hospital room,” he amends, flicking your forehead with his thumb and middle finger. “And, second, do not tell me that you made a decision about your future based on the opinions of your dad’s old-ass friends.” He groans when you remain quiet. “Seriously?”

“I just didn’t want to upset them,” you mumble. “The only reason they allowed me to study dance is because I’m also majoring in education. I could be a dance teacher.”

“Do you wanna be a dance teacher?”

“Someday,” you admit. “I taught some classes at my studio for the little kids, and I really liked it.” You gnaw at your lower lip.

“But?” Eddie presses, letting his thumb graze against yours.

“But it’s not what I want to do now,” you relent. “Right now, I want to go on auditions and maybe get cast in a play or a cheesy music video or a goddamn commercial and…and dance.”

Eddie gives your hand a quick squeeze before pulling back, not wanting to cross a boundary when you’re so vulnerable. “Then you’re gonna dance,” he murmurs. “We’ll get outta here and move to Cali, and you’re gonna dance.”

A month ago, the prospect of dropping out of school to dance professionally would have you downright terrified. Terrified of failure, of your parents’ inevitable disappointment, of finding out you’re not good enough. But now it only fills you with regret, because that dream became impossible with just the shifting of some rogue tectonic plates.

“Okay,” you say softly, once again wearing your hopeful façade. “Sounds like a plan.” A plan you’ll both easily forget once you’re back out in the real world, faced with the problems you’ve been shielded from within the hospital walls.

The two of you lay there talking about your futures until sleep overtakes you both. Eddie’s the first to drift off; you stay awake for a bit, consumed by echoes of today’s appointment with Dr. Sanoj. What was supposed to be a brief meeting about scheduling your surgery turned into something much more devastating. You rest your head on Eddie’s chest, only allowing yourself to unravel when you hear his soft snores. The combination of the energy expended by crying and the drowsiness from your meds allows you to sleep, still hiccuping from tears as you fall into a dreamless slumber.

Neither of you hear the soft click of crutches as Dustin hobbles back into the room. “Forgot my—son of a bitch, I knew it!” he whispers, slinging his left-behind jacket over his shoulder. “Steve and Robin are gonna lose their shit!”

The next morning, Mandy arrives with breakfast and medication. In front of each of you, she places a plate of runny scrambled eggs, fruit that is described as “fresh” but most certainly is not, and a small carton of orange juice. It’s strangely domestic, and you can’t help but imagine you and Eddie eating together in your shared home. You’re making pancakes or waffles or frittatas—anything better than the food in front of you. Eddie’s frying up bacon, wearing an apron that says Kiss the Chef, and you do, over and over and—

The rattle of your pill cup snaps you from your fantasy, and you dutifully swallow the pastel tablets with a swig of juice.

Eddie grins when Mandy gives him his meds. “Hello, beautiful,” he croons, making grabby motions with his calloused hands.

“Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Munson; no more painkillers in this batch,” Mandy says, laughing at his pout despite herself. “Dr. Franklin wants to speak with you; he’ll be making his rounds in a few minutes.”

“Oooh, Eddie’s in trooouble!” you sing-song, flashing a grin at him.

Rolling his eyes at you, Eddie downs his pills and leans back against his pillow. “Would be used to it. Was in Higgin’s office enough.”

“Oh, Eddie,” you say with a sigh. “Did you go down to the cafeteria while I was asleep and make some big dramatic speech on one of the tables? At least tell me that someone videotaped it for me.”

“You’re hilarious,” he says, tossing his empty paper cup at you. The giggle you let out has his stomach feeling tingly, and he’s sure it’s not from the medications.

There’s a knock on the open door to your room and an older man steps inside, a clipboard tucked under his arm. “Hey, Eddie. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Thanks, doc,” Eddie answers. “What’s the word?”

“Well, glad to say everything looks good. All lab results are normal and you’re healing up nicely. Of course, some injuries still have a ways to go, but there’s no reason you can’t be home for that.”

Eddie’s immediately thrilled. Finally, being able to get out of the hospital where he’s been poked and prodded and it’s impossible to get a good night’s sleep because of all the beeping equipment and nurses constantly checking on you. But as soon as the excitement came, it went. Because leaving the hospital also meant not spending most of the hours in the day by your side. No waking up to your laughter as he tells shitty jokes over your shitty breakfasts. No more saying, “I told you so” when Shelby confesses to the other twin, “I’m still in love with you” on your daily soap opera binges. No more constant sunshine.

“That’s great,” Eddie tells the doctor, his heart not behind the words. “When am I sprung?”

“Should be good to go tomorrow morning. I’m just gonna head back to my office, dot the i’s, cross the t’s, put my name on the X. You know, all that official mumbo jumbo. I’ll have Mandy get everything together. Your prescriptions, your discharge papers, and whatever else you’ll need.”

“Sounds good,” Eddie says, nails scratching at the blanket in his lap.

“Any questions for me?” The doctor asks. When Eddie shakes his head, the doctor gives him a smile and pats Eddie’s leg.

“Oh, I have one,” you say, raising your hand from where you’re tucked up in bed. “When is he cleared to shower? It’s like sharing a room with a donkey.”

The doctor lets out a small chuckle. “Eddie, you are officially cleared to take a shower. If you think of any questions, just tell Mandy. She’ll make sure I get the message.”

“Will do. Thanks.” Eddie nods his head at the man as he steps out of the room. Eddie turns his head to see you grinning at him. While it’s a beautiful sight, it now gives him a melancholy feeling.

“You’re being freed!” you call. “You can go get that cheeseburger tomorrow!”

“Should I sneak one into you?” Eddie asks, his smirk not packing its usual punch.

“Oh, please do,” you say. “God, I can practically taste it.”

“Or smell it? Like, how apparently you’re smelling me?” Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow. Part of him is a little embarrassed because the two of you were sitting so close together just last night.

“You’re not that bad,” you tell him. “I probably smell vile.”

Not a chance, Eddie thinks. “All right, well, I guess I’ll go take a shower then.” He stands up from the bed and over to the small pile of clothes Wayne had brought him the other day. Just some old t-shirts and comfortable pajama pants to sleep in, but it was still nice to have a touch of home.

Once Eddie has closed the bathroom door behind him, Mandy comes in to check your vitals.

“Heard the good news,” she says as she reads the numbers of your blood pressure. “Gonna be weird having a room to yourself? You guys have been inseparable.”

Your face heats at her words and you look down at your lap as she scribbles something into your chart. “S’fine,” you say with a shrug. Mandy looks down at you, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Uh huh,” she says as she clicks her pen. “Well, all your numbers are good. They stay this way, you’ll be headed to the operating room before you know it. Need anything?”

“No,” you say, downcast eyes on your blanket.

A bang from the en suite bathroom has both you and Mandy craning your heads in that direction.

“I’m good!” Eddie shouts. “Just dropped the shampoo!”

It makes you chuckle and Mandy shakes her head, fondly. You think she’s going to miss him, too.

“I’ll see you soon, I’m sure,” you say to Mandy as she heads out the door. Sighing to yourself, you cuddle up in your blankets and decide to have a five minute pity party. Not only are you facing multiple surgeries over the foreseeable future, but Eddie won’t be here by your side to keep your spirits up. Sure, maybe he calls you his sunshine, but you’re positive he isn’t aware of how much he brightens your days too. The water turns off in the bathroom and you quickly wipe your hands over your cheeks, trying to catch any pesky tears that may have slipped free.

The curtain in the middle of the room is opened—it’s only ever closed anymore if a doctor or nurse needs it to be for some reason. It allows you to see the bathroom door open, but before you see him, you can hear Eddie mumbling to himself.

“Man knows how to do laundry. What the hell is this? A fucking toddler shirt?” When you finally see him, your breath is caught in your chest—for two reasons. One, the teenage girl in you can’t help but respond this way to seeing the guy you have a crush on without his shirt. Two, you’d never really heard the whole story of why Eddie had to come to the hospital, and seeing the puckered and pulled flesh of his chest makes your heart ache. There’s bruising leaving purple and brown spots on top of red and pink gashes that are healing. It looks painful and searing against his otherwise pale white skin.

You know better than to stare. Obviously he’d assume you’re just staring at the scars, not admiring the small but sculpted muscles beneath them. It takes a Herculean effort to pull your gaze from his body and look down in your lap.

“Shit,” Eddie mumbles as he stomps over to his pile of clothes. He rummages through them until he finds another shirt. He’s quick in slipping it on, then turns towards your bed. Taking the few steps over in your direction, he sits down on the bottom corner of your bed. When you look up, there’s half a smile on his face as he plays with a small white cloth in his hands. “Believe it or not, this used to be a shirt that fit me.” He holds the cloth up and you see it’s a Guns N’ Roses shirt that’s been shrunk until only a child could fit into it. “My uncle must’ve shrunk it. Guess that’s payback for all the times I turned his white shirts pink because I left a pair of red boxers in the washer.”

“Led Zeppelin is better anyway,” you say, gesturing to the shirt he’s currently wearing.

“So, uh,” Eddie says, looking down at his lap and fidgeting with the too-small tee. “You saw the scars, huh?”

“I did,” you say in a quiet voice. His cheeks turn red and it breaks your heart. “No, please don’t be embarrassed, Eddie. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Shutting it again, Eddie shakes his head. “I, um… they just. They’re—what I mean…”

“Eddie, take a breath. It’s okay.” You go to reach for his hand, but you can’t bend enough due to your injured leg. Eddie shifts so he’s facing you and leans the rest of the way so you can take his hand. “There’s no scar you could have that would make me think any less of you. Plus, you haven’t seen my leg. It looks pretty gnarly.”

“Gnarly?” Eddie asks, looking up at you underneath his eyelashes, the tiniest smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I’m preparing for that California life,” you tease him. “Gotta fit in with the surfer dudes.”

Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “As soon as you get the OK, I’m booking our tickets.” He shoves the pillow out of the way and sits on top of the blanket. “I can’t afford first-class, so coach will have to do.”

“Lucky for you, I’m not a diva—yet,” you add, excited to play along with the fantasy game he has going on. “I can handle a few hours with the common folk.”

“And we thank you for gracing us with your presence.” Eddie’s eyes flit back to your leg. “When do you think you’ll be good to go?”

Dr. Sanoj told you that between surgeries and recovery, it’ll be at least six weeks, but you bite back that information. “Any day now,” you lie. “Just waiting on those discharge papers. But you know how that can be, with all the sign offs. Everyone’s gotta cross their t’s and dot their i’s.” Good God, shut up, you think.

“Cool,” Eddie nods. He looks deep in thought, tongue poking out in concentration. “Yeah, all right. I can make it work.”

You smile, rolling your eyes playfully at his commitment to the bit. Your pain meds start to kick in, and you drift off into a hazy sleep.

While you’re passed out, there’s a soft knock on the door.

“Oh, she’s asleep,” Eddie hears a woman’s voice softly murmur. There’s a slight creak as she sits in the chair next to your bed. “My sweet girl. Mom’s here.”

Your mom. Eddie uses his elbows to push himself up, pulling the curtain back a few inches.

“Um, hi,” he says, not realizing how nervous he is until he actually starts talking. “Are you Sunshine’s mom?”

The woman’s brow crinkles. “Sunshine?”

Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink. “Yeah, I, uh, I call her Sunshine,” he stammers, nodding in your direction.

“Then, yes, I’m Sunshine’s mom.”

“She, um, she’s—I call her Sunshine because she brightens up my day. Probably the only person in this building who doesn’t hate my guts, let alone like me.” He wants to stop talking, but he can’t. “I have these nightmares, y’know? From the, uh, earthquake thing. And she always pulls me outta them. I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I go home tomorrow.”

Your mom gives Eddie a sympathetic smile, gently stroking your hand, minding the needle poking into it. “Well, she’s always telling me how much you make her laugh. Lord knows she could use some happiness in her life.” She sighs. “I just hope her new roommate is as kind as you.”

“At least she’s getting outta here soon,” Eddie offers, “so even if she has a shi—bad roommate, it won’t be for long.”

“Six weeks isn’t exactly ‘soon,’” your mom says. Her gaze doesn’t leave your face, so peaceful in your sleep.

“Wait, six weeks?” Eddie nearly chokes on his own tongue in surprise. “No, she told me that the doctor should clear her in the next coupla days.”

Your mom shakes her head. “She’s got three surgeries to fix that broken femur, plus recovery time. The reason it’s only six weeks is because she’s young and healthy.”

Eddie feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. Why would you lie to him? Get him pumped up about the prospect of moving to California, living out your dreams together, for it to all be bullshit?

Tears prick at his eyes. Maybe this was all just a joke, a stupid prank on your part. Make the Freak think that someone actually cared about him, laughing behind his back the whole time.

Maybe it’s best that he’s leaving tomorrow. Then he won’t have to listen to you drag him along for your own sick entertainment.

You wake up around dinnertime, stretching your limbs as much as your limited mobility allows. It’s a far cry from your usual limber exercises, but it’s enough to get the blood flowing through your body.

An episode of Wheel of Fortune plays from the TV in the corner, but it’s blocked by the curtain. Eddie probably closed it while I slept, you think. That’s pretty much the only time you two keep the room divided; every now and then, you forget and wake up to the sight of Eddie Munson sleeping next to you.

“Eds? You awake?”

“Yup,” is his terse reply, with no enthusiasm behind it.

You open the curtain with a grin. “Are you grumpy because your novelas aren’t on?”

“Nope.” He keeps his arms crossed over his chest, left ankle draped over his right.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, frowning. “Did something happen while I was sleeping?”

“Yeah, actually.” Eddie finally allows his gaze to meet yours. His usual friendly doe eyes are clouded with anger. “Your mom stopped by.”

Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. “Did she say something that upset you? I told her that all the murderer stuff wasn’t true, and she believed me—believed you.”

“Actually, we talked a bit about you.” The acid in his tone is enough to burn.

“What about me?” you ask, only becoming further confused by this conversation.

Eddie huffs out a humorless chuckle and licks his tongue across his teeth. “Really thought you had me, didn’t you? Think you could pretend to be all buddy buddy with me just to mess with me? Get in my head?”

“What? Who’s in your head?” Part of you wonders if this is all some medicine-induced stress dream. “Eddie.” You push yourself up as best you can, leg aching and body suffering from general soreness from being cramped in the bed for so long. “What are you talking about? What did my mom say to you?”

This time when his eyes cut to you, there’s more than anger there. There’s fury, pain. The sight makes your heart ache, and the fact that this look is directed at you is making your head spin.

“Just a couple of days, huh?” Eddie pushes himself to the edge of his bed so his legs hang off the side. His glare burns your skin and you feel yourself wanting to shrink down and out of sight. “That’s how long til the doctor will clear ya?”

Part of the puzzle of why Eddie was mad was starting to kick into place. Shit, you think. Mom must’ve said something about the surgeries.

“Eddie, I—.”

“Lied? Yeah, you did. But what’s that matter when you’re lying to The Freak?”

Guilt gives way to anger in your gut as he throws this accusation at you. Not once, whether in high school with him or after, did you think of Eddie as a freak. You’ve never agreed with those who called him names and treated him as lesser than.

“I didn’t lie to you because I think you're a freak, Eddie.” It comes out strangled between all the emotions vying to be expressed through your voice.

“You sure about that?” Eddie narrows his eyes at you, and it’s hard to see a trace of the laughing and smiling Eddie you’ve become so close with.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you grit out. “I lied becau—.”

“Well, what possible other motive could there have been?” Eddie questions. His hands are gripping the sheets beneath him, his knuckles turning almost as white as the linens.

“If you would just listen to me!”

“So you can lie some more?” Eddie scoffs and shakes his head. “Well, screw California.”

Confusion is suddenly back in your mixture of emotions. California? Why bring up that joke now? Unless…

“Wait,” you say, holding up a hand. “You were actually serious about going to California?”

“What?” he practically barks out. “You weren’t?”

“Eddie, I thought that was a joke,” you say with a disbelieving laugh. “Some made up fantasy to get us through spending all our time in these four plain-as-fuck walls.”

“Of course you weren’t really going to do that with me,” Eddie says, a sneer curling his lip.

“Because I didn’t know it was real!” you try to explain.

Eddie throws up his arms, grimacing as it tugs on his stitches. “Why wouldn’t it be real? Is me having a future that unbelievable?”

“What the hell are you on?” you hiss. “Eddie, you need to finish high school. And I need to get my bachelor’s degree. We can’t just be fucking off to California like it’s no big deal!”

Eddie bites his thumbnail before responding. “Let me get this straight. We narrowly escape death during this…earthquake…and you wanna just go back to our normal lives? Like we weren’t given a second chance to live?” He’s pacing around the room now. “My neighbor? Max Mayfield? Harrington told me that she’s blind now. She’s fucking blind and in a full body cast!”

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, but he continues frantically walking back and forth without acknowledging you.

“And Jason Carver. Jason fucking Carver! I hated that son of a bitch, and now he’s dead. All those times he was a piece of shit to me and I wished something would happen to him, and now it did.”

“That’s not your fault,” you try. “You didn’t cause the earthquake.”

Eddie shakes his head. “That’s all I thought about: death and sadness. And then I met you.” His eyes are shiny with tears. “Someone who liked spending time with me, who believed in me, who had these crazy dreams just like I did. A…a friend.” He wipes at his face clumsily, embarrassed to be crying. “But you’re just like the rest of them, huh?”

“That’s not fair—”

“Y’know what’s real fuckin’ funny?” Eddie smacks his hand on his bedside table. “The other day, Harrington said that we—you and I—had some kinda ‘spark’ between us.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Guess he’s just as full of shit as you are, Sunshine.” When he says the nickname now, it’s full of venom; there’s no trace of the sweet, goofy guy you’ve gotten to know.

“Eddie, if you would just let me—” But yet again, Eddie doesn’t let you attempt to explain any of the situation. The fact that a part of you somewhere deep inside is fluttery because Steve saw a spark between you and Eddie is something you have to put away to examine at a better time.

“Good luck with your surgery,” Eddie says. “Too bad the doctors can’t cure bitch.”

It feels like a punch to the gut, the air being knocked out of you. Your mouth opens and your lips move, but no sound comes out. There’s a crack in your heart, but it quickly feels like it’s been soldered closed with the anger bubbling up inside of you. Your lungs reinflate, the blood pumps heavily through your veins, and your fists clench where they rest in your lap. The urge to lash out is strong. And at this moment, you’re so very weak.

“You know what, Eddie? Fuck you. And hey, good luck getting to California with those murder charges on your record.” The moment the words tumble out of your mouth you wish you could take them back. Eddie stepped over the line, but you ran right past him. “Shit, I didn’t—.”

Suddenly you’re not looking at Eddie anymore. He’s pulled the curtain closed, the last glimpse you get of him is a raging fury in his eyes. And you can hardly blame him. The only thing that stares back at you is the gauzy white curtain still swaying from the forceful yank.

“Eddie…” The television volume gets turned up to an ungodly volume, making you cover your ears and impossible to have a conversation over.

You spend the rest of the night with your ear pressed to the pillow in an attempt to drown out the baseball game he’s watching. Given his penchant for yelling about the absurdity of sports, you doubt he’s even paying attention to it, but the broadcasters’ monologues about fastballs and strikes curtails any attempt to speak to him. You barely touch your dinner, and Mandy tuts at you worriedly, but you insist you feel fine.

In reality, you feel nauseated. You said a horrible thing to a wonderful person, and you really hurt his feelings.

Maybe we can talk it through in the morning, you think, trying not to get your hopes up. Maybe we can apologize and move on.

When you wake up the next morning, his bed has been slept in, left unmade while he’s probably in the bathroom. The curtain is pulled back; an excellent sign that he’s ready to hear your apology, and possibly forgive you. As soon as he comes back, you’ll give it a shot.

“Gonna be quiet around here for a bit without your buddy, huh?” Mandy says from the doorway. She walks over to Eddie’s bed and starts stripping the sheets. “You get to say goodbye?”

“Not yet,” you admit. “I’ll have to catch him before he leaves.”

Mandy’s brows furrow in confusion. “Honey, his uncle came and got him an hour ago.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “He didn’t tell you?”

All you can do is shake your head.

“Probably didn’t wanna wake you. I’m sure he’ll stop by and visit.” Mandy curls the sheets into a ball and tucks them under her arm. “I’ll be back with breakfast and meds.”

As soon as she’s gone, you burst into tears. Eddie left without saying goodbye. He left thinking you don’t care about him or believe in him. He left without his Sunshine.

taglist: @thebrookemunson, @mystars123, @h-ness1944, @hazydespair, @ajkamins, @aysheashea, @jasminelafleur, @brittney69, @arsonfrogger, @brassreign, @lunarzstarz, @aftermidnightwriting, @justtryingtobecreative, @micheledawn1975, @kailynn-exe

#albl #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

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aaal-iz-well · 7 days

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GUYS I NEED YOUR HELP!!!

so there's this part of my fic that I just cannot decide on, and it would be lovely if you'd be kind enough to share your thoughts on both pieces. PLEASE!!🙏🙏

Thank you, so I'm confused about which play to play in the fic, and here are pieces from both of them.

Beauty and the Beast. (I was not planning on this, but I got a suggestion and I cant stop thinking about it!

“We’re playing Beauty and the Beast,” he continued, “and you would’ve made an excellent Belle; dead somebody, vaguely tragic past, fell in love with a prince and inherited a castle.” He ended with a finger brushing hair behind my ear.

Ouch.

I swatted his hand away, narrowed my eyes. “Let me guess. You're the Beast.”

“It sounds bad when you put it like that. I prefer to think of myself as a fallen misunderstood prince turned Beast by a cruel temptress to bring out his heart of gold.” His voice got dreamier by the word.

“Of course you do,” I muttered.

“Great.” He clapped his hands. “Now that we’re on the same page on how I should be projected, we can come up with some great costume designs.”

Wait a minute. “We?”

“Yes.” He gestured between us. Duh. “You and me, we? Not as romantic as you’d like, but still.”

It took a monumental amount of will power, honed through years of ignoring insults, to focus on the problem at hand. “But I’m doing stage design, not the costumes.” I held up a finger. “Hold up a minute, there must’ve been a mistake, I’ll talk to the director.

And then there's this:

“So,” Jameson said with a grin, chin delicately poised over his knuckles, “shall we begin? I have other work to do, after all.”

“Of course, when do you not?” I sighed, like someone whose access had been revoked. There were more than a dozen people working on the stages, no one would notice if I slipped out, instead I was stuck being the personal curator of Jameson’s stupid beast costume.

“Hey, getting into character takes a lot of time.” He knocked my shoulder, and something in me snapped.

“Yes, Jameson, I got it,” I groaned. “It takes a lot of effort to huff and brood and roam around acting all stupid beasty.” My hands clenched halfway in front of me, giving up when realising there was no use of undue displays of anger. “Try getting stuck with something you don’t know the first thing about.”

His chair, teetering at the very edge of a head smashing fall, loudly slid back into place. There was nothing different about him per se, but when he spoke, his voice was not the silky, careless, you-had-to-lean-in-to-hear thingy I was used to. “You're saying that I don’t have to work or do anything, because, what,” he chuckled humourlessly. “I’m already all that?”

“I didn’t say that,” I said weakly, reeling my shoulders in.

His lip curled, but his voice was hurt. “You know, you might as well have. It’s apparent enough without you having to work for it.”

Then,

Pride and Prejudice.

“We’re playing Pride and Prejudice this year,” he continued, “and you would have made an excellent Elizabeth; small town girl, big dreamer, madly and irrevocably in love with a charmingly tight-lipped rich man. It’s very-” he hovered an appraising hand over me “-you.”

You're not tight lipped, are you, I thought.

I swatted his hand away, narrowed my eyes. “Let me guess. You're Wickham.”

He hit a fist against his chest. “Oh, how the lady wounds me,” he moaned. Suddenly, he straightened, and I realised just how tall he was when he wasn’t leaning or slouching or whatever. He crossed his legs and curtsied, then took my hand and brought it to his lips. “Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberly, Derbyshire,” he pronounced, words thick with a -rather impressive- posh accent.

I blinked, hand still in his, before remembering to snatch it away.

His serious face morphed into a smirk. He nudged me. “I had you for a moment, didn’t I?”

I managed a flat look. “Not even close. It’s just a sad lonely rich man.”

“It sounds bad when you put it like that. I prefer to think of myself as a misunderstood soul, lost in the complexities of high society, bogged down by the tremendous weight of position and responsibility, freed, in a sense, by love for an intelligent young woman.”

“Of course you do,” I muttered.

He clapped his hands. “Great. Now that we’re on the same page about the light I should be portrayed in, we can come up with some great costume designs.”

And its pretty much the same, bickering and what not.

So what did you guys think? Detailed and constructive criticism is VERY VERY welcome. Thank you!

#the inheritance games #jameson hawthorne #avery grambs #ao3 #averyjameson #tig fanfic #fanfic writing #reader's opinions #help please!!!#HYIALG #archive of our own #fanfiction

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que-serra-serra · 11 months

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[Serennedy] The Calm After the Storm

After saving the day and rescuing the girl, Leon and Luis take some time to celebrate. Rated Explicit | 8.5k words | ao3 link

"—And then he told me it probably wasn't my first time running from creeps," Ashley said, scrunching up her nose. "I think he meant it as a compliment?"

Luis threw his head back and laughed, high-pitched and grating like a hyena.

"Dios mío!" Luis said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "Really doesn't have a clue how to talk to women, our Leon."

"Yeah." Ashley’s lips pulled up in a half-smile. "I thought agents were supposed to be smooth."

"Hmm, probably used to only flexing the muscles and having every señorita throw themselves at him,” Luis said.

"Oh, my sorority sisters would have been all over that," Ashley said. "Luckily some of us señoritas prefer brains over brawn."

Luis visibly perked up at that. "Say…" He put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand, smiling sweetly. "Did I tell you that I have a doctoral degree?"

Ashley laughed and slapped Luis' forearm over the table. "Then you should be smart enough to know you're way too old for me."

"Ouch, bonita," Luis sighed dramatically and put a hand over his heart. "My manly pride, it is wounded. But I respect your decision."

"Thank you," Ashley said. "Now if you could teach 'no means no' to certain weirdo agents who keep trying acrobatics to peek up your skirt even after you told him you're not interested—"

"I was suplexing an enemy who tried to capture you!” Leon finally snapped from the other side of the room. “Because rather than run away from the danger, you ran towards him!"

Ashley crossed her arms with a huff. "You still looked while you were down there."

"Oh, for the love of—!" Leon grit his teeth and turned to keep watch out of the cabin’s window.

Out of the corner of his eye, Leon saw Luis lean over the table to stage-whisper to Ashley.

"I think he is angry that we are talking about him like he isn't here," Luis said.

“I think he’s angry that he’s got no game,” Ashley whispered back.

“He is angry that the two people he spent forty-eight hours straight protecting would rather talk shit than get the sleep they desperately need,” Leon grumbled.

“Ah, there is our Leon,” Luis said. “He is all…hmm. What is the opposite of kill them with kindness?”

“Protect them with…rudeness?” Ashley suggested.

Luis snapped his fingers. “Exactamente.”

Leon groaned and barely resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands.

“Anyway…” Ashley said, rising from her chair. “I really should get some rest. Early wake-up tomorrow, right?”

Leon nodded. “The chopper should be here at 0700.”

“And you’re sure you two will be alright down here?” Ashley asked as she walked to the stairs leading to the second floor of the cabin. “There’s just one bed…”

“Oh, I assure you—” Luis started smugly.

“We’ll sleep in shifts,” Leon interrupted. “Someone’s got to keep watch.”

“If you say so,” Ashley said. “Um…night, then.”

“Night.”

“Goodnight, mi princesa.”

Ashley smiled at them both before disappearing upstairs to the small bedroom Leon had cleared out for her earlier.

The cabin they'd chosen to spend the night in was far from luxurious, but it had shelter and beds and that was all they could ask for. Hunnigan had been elated to learn of the mission's success, but due to Mike's untimely demise, she’d regretfully informed them that another helicopter wouldn't be arriving until the morning.

Even if waiting wasn’t ideal, they could all be faring much worse. Leon was just happy that Ashley was smiling again. Even after the parasite and cult shit, she was okay; she wouldn’t end up scarred and broken like Leon after Raccoon City.

And it was all thanks to the man who cured them.

“So…” Luis walked up to stand behind Leon, a hand running over his shoulders. “Alone at last, eh?”

Leon's mouth twitched up into a smile that Luis couldn’t see. “Bold of you to assume I'd still let you touch me like that.”

“Seeing as you haven’t punched me yet, I will take my chances,” Luis said.

When Leon didn’t reply, Luis sighed and stepped around him to lean against the windowsill Leon’s chair was pulled up to.

“I am sensing that there's something you want to say,” Luis said.

“About what?” Leon said, gaze firmly on the window. “You lying to me? Developing bioweapons for an evil corporation as a living? Helping a madman with his quest for world domination? Or just working with Ada behind my back this entire time?”

“Well, yes, but—”

Leon finally met Luis’ eyes with an icy glare. “How about the fact that you handed over your research and a world-ending parasite to the highest bidder again?”

Luis winced and averted his eyes. “Yes. That.”

Only a few hours ago, Luis had told Leon not only the truth about who he really was and what he had done, both at Umbrella and for Los Illuminados. After the close call with Krauser in the mines, he'd then spilled the rest of the story about Ada and his involvement with the mysterious Organization.

Anger had gripped Leon at first, lashing out because that betrayal stung more than any of Luis' shady past. Luis claimed to want to change, yet he'd been prepared to sell his knowledge to someone possibly even worse than Saddler and Umbrella combined.

Leon was so tired of being double-crossed; so tired of realizing that every time he thought he'd found something, it proved to be nothing but them using him—

In retrospect, he hadn't really been yelling at just Luis.

But now, late at night inside a rickety cabin in a pocket of peace and quiet… Leon was so very tired, and he didn’t have the energy to be angry. After everything they'd been through together, Leon couldn’t bring himself to hate Luis.

Luis had fought back-to-back with Leon for days. He'd helped save Ashley and had put his own neck on the line to get them the suppressants before accompanying him to the lab full of monsters to treat them. And after Saddler’s defeat, when Ada had run off with the amber and yelled at Luis to get in the helicopter to complete her end of the bargain, Luis had instead opted to stay to make sure Leon and Ashley made it out from the crumbling island.

“I'm not angry,” Leon said.

Luis’ head snapped back up. “What?”

“I'm still annoyed that you lied to me,” Leon said. “But I'm not mad that you made mistakes when you thought you had no other choice. We all do.”

“But….but—” Luis floundered, seeming genuinely confused.

Leon wasn't blind to the guilt that sometimes shone through Luis’ flirty smiles and easy banter. He’d seen all the times Luis' face twisted in sympathy when Ashley coughed up more blood, before he hurried to the girl's side and offered a handkerchief. He’d also noticed how Luis had seemed the most relieved of them all after he treated Leon and Ashley and killed the parasites inside of them.

There was no denying that Luis had made horrific mistakes in his life. Yet, ever since Leon met him, he'd done nothing but try to help. Whether Luis kept information or not—realistically, there were probably still things he wasn't telling them—it was obvious he'd come to care for both of them, and Leon owed Luis both his and Ashley's lives.

Luis had almost died for him more times than Leon wanted to remember. And Leon was so, so glad that he didn't.

“I trust you. You've gotten us this far,” Leon said. When Luis still frowned, he continued, “We're good, Luis.”

“We…are?” Luis was starting to smile again, some of his usual cockiness returning. “And here I thought I would have to atone for my sins in some other, creative ways.”

The suggestive smirk made Leon snort even as heat stirred between his legs. Their previous encounters had been so colossally stupid—you were chained to another prisoner and your first reaction was to frot against him, what the fuck, Kennedy—yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret those, either.

“Maybe not the time for that kind of thing,” Leon said.

“On the contrary, amigo, I think this is the perfect time,” Luis said. “We even have a bed!”

Luis gestured across the room to where the sad, narrow bed with yellowing sheets was situated.

“Yeah, that belongs to one of the corpses lying outside,” Leon huffed, looking back out of the window. Once they’d gotten back from the island, it was like the whole village had dropped dead with the dominant plaga gone. "Not exactly setting the mood."

“Oh, do not look at the corpses,” Luis said, drawing the curtains closed. “The souls of those poor bastards are grateful to be free from the Plaga's influence. This is cause for celebration!”

Leon stared impassively and opened the curtain back up. “I'll celebrate once we're back on US soil,” he said.

Luis sighed and sidled up behind Leon to practically drape himself over Leon’s back.

“Mi príncipe, you are so tense,” Luis said, massaging the meat of his shoulder. “There is nothing out there that will hurt us anymore. "We won, Sancho.”

Logically, Leon knew he was right: Saddler, Salazar and Krauser were all dead and this was a time to relax. But with the cadavers littering the streets and an ancient parasite still sprawling underground, Leon wasn't able to let his guard down just yet.

Luis leaned in, lips brushing against the shell of Leon's ear as he murmured, "Let me help you relax, hm?"

Leon sighed and grabbed Luis' chin before turning to face him. And for the first time since they'd met, he really looked at the man who had charmed himself into Leon’s pants.

Luis' now-unruly hair fell slightly into his face and gave him an even more disheveled look than usual. His eyes were tired and had dark circles around them, yet the corners crinkled when he smiled. Luis' tanned skin was splotchy with dust, sweat and dirt, but he still preened under Leon's gaze—like he knew he was attractive, even with the days' worth of grime.

Luis bit his chapped lip and lowered his lashes in an obvious invitation, the faux-innocent smile turning into a meaningful smirk.

But Leon now saw everything that lay hidden under the familiar smugness. He saw the sad little boy who had watched his home go up in flames; the bright-eyed young scientist who had been desperate to prove himself; the man who had made too many mistakes to count and was now doing everything in his power to make up for them.

"No," Leon finally said.

The disappointment flashing in Luis' expressive eyes made his heart twinge. Luis made to pull away with some mumbled excuse but Leon cupped his cheek more firmly to keep him in place, earning a confused stare.

“You've already done so much,” Leon said. “Let me take care of you.”

Luis’ smile instantly returned and his face felt warm in Leon's hand. “I think the dozens of times you have saved me from certain death counts as taking care of me,” he said.

“I could say the same about you,” Leon shot back.

“Oh-ho, are we acknowledging that I am also a very capable fighter?” Luis teased. “In addition to being incredibly charming and amazing with a pistol, of course.”

Leon felt a smile forming. “Don't tell anyone,” he said, then brushed his thumb over Luis' cheek and lowered his voice. “Let me do this for you, okay?”

Luis’ gaze flitted over Leon’s face and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Finally, he grinned, seeming to have found whatever answer he was looking for.

“Well, if a beautiful man like you offers, who am I to say no?” Luis said.

Leon didn’t budge. “I'd still like a yes.”

“Mierda, you're really going to make me spell it out?“

Luis’ eye roll was the last thing Leon registered before he was grabbed by the straps of his chest holster and roughly pulled closer, until Luis’ face was hovering right in front of him.

“Take me to bed, querido,” Luis murmured, his lips brushing against Leon’s.

Leon didn’t need to be told twice.

His lips crashed against Luis’ as he surged up on his feet, making the other man moan and stumble backwards in surprise. Leon balanced both of them while firmly walking Luis across the room, not once breaking the rough kiss.

Once Luis’ legs hit the frame of the bed Leon shoved him down to sit on it. Luis went willingly but pulled Leon down with him, until Leon had a knee on the bed between Luis’ spread legs and Luis had to crane his neck to keep trading heated kisses.

Luis made enthusiastic sounds all throughout the kiss that got muffled by Leon’s mouth on his. However, when Leon’s mouth ventured lower to nibble on his neck, Luis groaned loudly.

Too loudly.

“We have to keep quiet,” Leon whispered, kissing Luis' stubbled jaw instead.

“I can be quiet,” Luis hissed. “It's you that I'm worried about.”

Leon pulled back just enough to give him a skeptical stare.

“Oh, fine,” Luis relented. “Gag me then, would you?”

“But…” Leon hesitated. “Can't you just…you know, hold back?”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Luis said with a smirk. “Admit it: you enjoy hearing me talk.”

Leon huffed out a quiet laugh. “Yeah. God help me, but I do.”

“Mm, I knew it—”

“Probably just a side effect from the Plaga, though,” Leon deadpanned.

Luis’ eyes widened and Leon immediately feared that was a step too far. Thankfully, Luis just bowed his head and wheezed with silent laughter.

“Seeing as it also apparently gave you a sense of humor, I am not complaining,” Luis said.

Leon chuckled and shook his head. “So, any lingering transmission of that thing…”

“No need to worry,” Luis said. “The treatment took care of it—it fried the whole parasite, and now you’ll only need a minor surgery to remove whatever is left of its disintegrated body. There’s no possibility of infection: even if you puked a liter of blood into an open wound of mine, nothing would happen.”

Leon raised an eyebrow at Luis going into science-mode again. “Yeah, you'd know, wouldn't you?” he said.

Rather than run along with the joke, Luis just smiled sadly. “Yes.”

Crap; Leon really should have known better than to push the subject. Despite them poking fun at the whole situation, the guilt still weighed heavily in Luis' every action, from the documents Leon had read in his lab during Ashley's treatment to the way he adamantly still blamed himself for Leon’s infection.

“Hey.” Leon pecked Luis’ lips, trying to kiss the worry from them. “You've already helped us so much. You've done enough.“

Luis swallowed and for a second looked like he wanted to argue.

In the end, he simply sighed and smiled sadly again. “If you say so,” Luis said.

So Leon cradled Luis’ head and kissed him again, more firmly this time, until Luis got the memo and returned the kiss with a soft moan.

“Now, you mentioned something about taking care of me?” Luis said, smiling when Leon pulled away. “Did that just mean petting my head and calling me a good boy, or were you actually planning to get on with it…?”

Luis lifted his hips and shamelessly rubbed the bulge between his legs against Leon’s thigh.

Leon huffed and pushed himself off the bed. “Just gimme a minute.”

After a careful glance upstairs to check that the bedroom door was closed and no sounds could be heard indicating that Ashley was awake, Leon quietly sneaked back down the creaky stairs.

Leon disarmed himself of his guns and holsters and placed them onto the dining table in a neat row, comforted by the fact that Luis’ Red9 lay on the bedside table within arm’s reach if they needed it.

When Leon made his way back to the bed, Luis had already made himself comfortable on it. He was sitting with his back against the headboard and his long legs sprawled out on the flimsy mattress, leaving very little room for Leon to join him.

So it was only natural for Leon to climb in and straddle him.

"Oh, yes," Luis grinned up at him, immediately palming Leon’s pectorals through his T-shirt. "Now this is what I'm talking about."

Leon slapped Luis’ wrist. "Hands to yourself unless I say otherwise."

"Aww." Luis actually pouted at that, sticking out his bottom lip in a ridiculous manner. "But I want to touch you, mi príncipe."

"You'll get to next time,'' Leon promised, not missing the way Luis perked up at the promise of a next time. "This time we do it my way."

Luis leaned back against the headboard and spread his hands with a lazy smile. “Then I'm all yours.”

Arousal curled low in Leon’s belly at the way Luis so easily gave into him. Suddenly feeling a lot less patient, Leon efficiently stripped Luis out of his ugly jacket and took great pleasure in blindly tossing it over his shoulder—hopefully somewhere far, far away.

“You really have a vendetta against my jacket, don’t you?” Luis said.

Leon smirked and moved to the buttons of Luis’ shirt. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He swiftly unbuttoned the once-white dress shirt and pushed it open to expose Luis’ torso.

Leon’s brain stuttered at the sight. Luis was all sun-kissed skin and lithe muscle, the dark hair on his chest tapering off into a thin line at his belly before disappearing beneath his pants.

Leon ran his hand over Luis’ chest and marveled at how different the dark curls felt from his own sparse body hair. His brain didn’t seem to know whether to be turned on or jealous: Leon had never even been able to grow a full beard and here Luis was, with his dark stubble and hairy chest and oozing effortless masculinity.

Luis raised an eyebrow while Leon kept petting his chest. “Having fun?”

“Just getting my payback from the shooting range,” Leon said, then pinched a dusky nipple.

“Ah,” Luis gasped, but his signature smirk quickly returned. “Unfortunately, not even a handsome man like myself can quite compare when it comes to your…gifted physique.”

“I think you look just fine,” Leon said.

“Oh?” Luis grinned. “Do tell me more.”

Leon rolled his eyes as he lowered his head to kiss at Luis’ collarbone. “Now you’re just fishing for compliments,” he murmured against the skin.

Luis chuckled and Leon used the time to kiss his way down Luis’ chest, stopping briefly to nuzzle into the thick hair and breathe in the musky scent.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” Luis said, pure smugness in his voice. “If I knew it would make you react like this, I would have taken off my shirt a long time ago, Sancho.”

Rather than answer verbally, Leon licked over a nipple and then unceremoniously tugged at it with his teeth.

A surprised moan punched out of Luis. “Dios mío, Leon. Who knew you had such a mouth on you?”

You’re one to talk, Leon thought, flicking his tongue over the nub trapped between his teeth while rubbing his thumb over its neglected twin.

Luis’ head fell back against the headboard as he let out a low groan, his hands coming up to tangle in Leon’s hair. Leon probably shouldn’t have been surprised that it took him less than five minutes to forget the whole no-touching thing. Damn expressive Europeans.

Leon smiled to himself and hummed against Luis’ chest, earning a happy sigh as Luis arched into the touch. Taking the hint, Leon sucked at the nipple in earnest—

And then let out a startled moan as Luis, the little shit, bent his leg just enough to press it against Leon’s trapped erection.

“Careful, now.” Luis looked down at him with a smug grin, his shin still massaging Leon’s bulge. “Wouldn't want to wake the little princess with those moans.”

“Stop that,” Leon scolded, pinning Luis’ legs back onto the bed. “This is supposed to be about you.”

"What can I say? I’m a giver,” Luis said. At Leon’s impassive glare, he eventually sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. Do your worst.”

“As long as you keep quiet and behave,” Leon said pointedly.

Leon only saw a faux-innocent smile before he redirected his attention to the task at hand, making quick work of Luis’ jeans and tugging them down just enough to free his erection.

“Ah,” Luis gasped as Leon immediately wrapped his hand around the hard shaft. “There is that military efficiency I was expecting.”

“I’m sorry, did you need me to buy you dinner first?” Leon shot back.

Luis chuckled, then groaned as Leon went back to mouthing at his nipple while giving a firm tug on his dick.

Leon was fully prepared to lavish Luis’ chest and cock with attention until the man came apart underneath him. He kept biting and licking Luis’ nipples while working a hand over his erection, starting slow and then picking up the pace when Luis hardened even further in his hand and ring-covered fingers tightened in his hair.

Luis, miraculously, managed to keep his noises down to hitching moans and quiet whispers of endearment. The snarky comments had been replaced by sweet nothings murmured in Spanish, and at some point Leon should probably let Luis know that he actually knew the language fairly well.

But when Luis let out quiet sobs of pleasure and whispered, "Oh, darling, you're so sweet, you make me feel so good” in his native language, well, Leon might be a little selfish and want to keep hearing those things.

Luis’ body was already tensing up and Leon could tell he was getting close. On impulse, Leon licked over the scar on his chest, and—

“Leon,” Luis moaned desperately, his hips jumping up to thrust into Leon’s fist. “Leon, god, fuck me.”

Leon let out a surprised grunt of arousal and his hips thrust forward of their own accord.

“Yes, I have—I have vaseline,” Luis said, his pitch desperate. “I need you inside me, Leon, please.”

Leon could vividly imagine that: he could see Luis' naked legs spread wantonly, see himself slicking up his cock and sliding into the tight heat of Luis’ ass as Luis threw his head back and tried to muffle a sinful moan—

“No,” Leon said firmly. He thumbed the leaking slit of Luis' cock; it wouldn’t take much for him to come, and this was really not the place…

Luis let out an honest to god whimper at being denied. ”Joder, why not? I will be quick, I promise, no stretching needed!”

Leon's dick throbbed insistently at the image but he sighed and pushed himself up to hover at eye level with Luis.

“Because,” Leon said firmly. “This is risky enough as it is, but at least I can listen for anyone outside the cabin and be ready to fight in half a second.”

Luis blinked in confusion, the arousal clearly slowing down that genius brain. “Eh?”

“There's too much at stake to get caught with my pants down and miss an ambush,” Leon said. “We don't know what potential survivors are doing with the cult gone and when any looters might show up. The explosions from the island would have traveled hundreds of miles over the water, and I'm not risking yours or Ashley’s safety just to get my dick wet.”

Luis’ confusion slowly made way for a smile, and then he was leaning up to kiss Leon.

“Oh, you stupidly chivalrous Sancho,” Luis said, his voice fond. “And here I thought I had a martyr complex.”

“Yeah, well,” Leon said, then grabbed Luis’ slightly flagging dick. “I can still do this for you. But not that.”

“Mm,” Luis moaned when Leon gently stroked the overheated flesh. “I am not saying that I am opposed to that, but a suggestion, if I may?”

“Shoot.”

“Fuck me against the window,” Luis said, and Leon nearly choked on his own spit. “You have a good vantage point and a great view; a two for one deal.”

Leon swallowed. “Luis…”

“And you don't even have to undress!” Luis kept going. “You just have to unzip enough to get your…equipment out. I'm the one who is required to be ass-naked and, let me assure you, I fight no less well without pants. I might actually fight better, now that I think about it—those things are more for style than function.”

Something in Leon’s chest softened at Luis’ obvious consideration. This really wasn’t how he’d planned the night to go: straddling a half-naked Luis with said man’s half-hard dick in his hand while Luis rambled on about a potential compromise to Leon’s paranoia—just so Leon would fuck him.

“Okay,” Leon said.

The perplexed look on Luis’ face let him know it was just as surprising for both of them that Leon had agreed so easily.

Luis smiled hesitantly. “Yes?”

“Yeah,” Leon agreed. “But I’m not doing it against a fucking window when there’s a perfectly good bed here.”

Luis shrugged. “I really don’t mind. Maybe the looters will be too busy enjoying the show to attack us?”

Leon snorted. “All the more reason to stay in bed. And I…” He hesitated, suddenly unsure. “I want it to be good for you.”

The awkwardness definitely wasn’t made better by the way Luis’ whole face lit up in a gleeful smile.

“Oh, Prince Charming,” Luis cooed, sitting up enough to cradle Leon’s face in his hands. “I knew you were a romantic at heart.”

Leon averted his eyes and gave a one-shoulder shrug even as he felt heat bloom on his cheeks. So he was a little sentimental when it came to their first time going all the way: sue him.

“No, no, mi príncipe, don’t be embarrassed,” Luis said and leaned in for a brief kiss. “Just tell me how you want me, and I am yours.”

Leon glanced around the room and briefly channeled his tactical mindset. “I want us both to have a vantage point of both the door and the window, and I’m gonna get my TMP and a frag to put by your pistol where we can easily reach them.”

Luis smiled. “Spooning it is, then.”

“That works.” Leon gave him a small, grateful smile before getting out of bed. “I’ll be right back.”

Luis winked. “Trust me, I am not going anywhere.”

While retrieving his weapons, Leon took the opportunity to double-check the padlock they’d put on the door as well as take one last look out of the window.

He was relieved to see nothing out of the ordinary in the still-lifeless streets of the village. Leon might be paranoid, but it had served him well so far: never assume that you've won, or a rotting Del Lago might crawl up from the lake and swallow the whole cabin in one go. Still, it was nice that Luis was humoring him.

Speaking of Luis…

A particularly needy moan from the other side of the room tore Leon’s attention from the window. He turned to face the bed—

And whatever blood remained in his brain promptly rushed south.

Luis was already naked save for his dress shirt still hanging open by his sides. His legs were bent at the knees and spread obscenely, giving Leon a clear view of two of his fingers disappearing into the tight furl of his hole.

“You were taking too long,” Luis said breathlessly but still managed a smirk. “I started without you.”

And when it came to the choice of staring at the rotting corpses outside or joining a beautiful, naked man in bed, Leon was only human.

In record time, Leon crossed the room, placed his weapons on the nightstand and kneeled on the foot of the bed, getting a close-up view of Luis’ fingers sliding in to the knuckles.

Leon swallowed and hovered his hand between Luis’ legs. “Can I?” Leon asked.

Luis tossed him the small container of vaseline with his free hand. “By all means, querido."

Leon quickly slicked his fingers and hoped Luis couldn’t see how much they were trembling. When Luis pulled his own digits out, his hole winked, making Leon’s face flame hot.

“If you’re just going to watch…” Luis said.

Leon took a slightly trembling breath and grabbed Luis’ tanned thigh to steady them both. His other hand lowered between Luis’ legs to tease a slick finger around his hole.

Luis gasped, his rim twitching against Leon’s touch. “Leon…”

Leon pushed with two fingers and the muscle gave, his digits slipping into snug tightness. He heard a heady moan and couldn't tell which one of them made the sound.

Leon’s fingers easily slid knuckle-deep and he couldn’t resist pumping them in and out a few times. Luis was so warm and soft inside, and Leon hooked his fingers and blindly pressed along his walls, looking for—

“Come on,” Luis said, yanking on Leon’s wrist until his fingers slid out. “Enough teasing, I'm ready.”

“O-okay,” Leon said, voice cracking, then cleared his throat. “Okay.”

Luis smiled knowingly and Leon redirected his focus to unzipping his pants and shuffling into position beside Luis.

Leon turned on his side and pushed on Luis’ shoulder to make him do the same, then hooked an arm around Luis’ thigh to pull him closer across the bed.

"Oh," Luis breathed. "Have I told you how sexy it is that you can just manhandle me as you please? Because if I haven't, I'm telling you now."

Leon huffed and squeezed the meaty part of Luis' thigh, still holding his leg up. "Glad to hear it."

With his free hand, Leon slicked up his cock, then snaked his arm under Luis’ neck to pillow his head and shuffled closer until his chest pressed against the thin shirt covering Luis’ back. His hard cock was nestled against Luis’ crack and Leon lifted Luis’ leg to spread him, aligning his hips so his tip brushed against the slick hole, and…

And was suddenly hit by how intimate their position was. He could feel so much of Luis’ body, holding him like they were long-time lovers and not just two people fucking away post-battle jitters.

"Mm, hurry," Luis said.

Impatient as always, Luis grinded against Leon, his loosened rim catching on the head of Leon’s cock.

Leon entered him maybe a little more roughly than he’d meant to.

But Luis arched into him and groaned loud enough to echo through the whole cabin, and Leon barely remembered himself enough to slap a vaseline-covered hand over Luis’ mouth and glance at the stairs.

“Quiet,” Leon whispered. His voice was strained, his dick enveloped in clenching heat and begging for him to fuck into Luis again.

Luis nodded and Leon let his hand fall away, laying it on the pillow next to Luis’ mouth just in case.

“Mierda, you feel so good,” Luis said, his voice a quiet murmur.

Arousal licked down Leon’s spine and he dared to thrust a little deeper, making Luis’ breath hitch.

“Yes, just like that,” Luis said breathlessly. “More, Leon, please…”

Leon bit his lip to keep quiet as he slid all the way home, pushing his length into Luis until his fly was rubbing over the skin of Luis' ass.

“Fuck,” Luis panted. He trembled in Leon’s arms, his hole clenching around Leon's cock.

“Do you…” Leon grit out, fighting the building urge to move. “Can I…”

“For the love of god, fuck me already!” Luis hissed.

Leon huffed in relief and pulled almost fully out before thrusting back in. The slide in was smooth and he marveled at how easy this was, how well Luis opened up for him.

“Faster,” Luis commanded.

Leon would have laughed at the bossiness if he wasn’t too busy losing his mind over how good Luis felt. All too happy to obey, Leon picked up the pace, shallowly fucking into Luis’ pliant body.

“Fuck, cariño, yes,” Luis moaned, tightening even more around Leon’s length.

“Shit,” Leon grunted, lost in the hot wet squeeze around his cock. “You’re so tight.”

Luis let out a breathless laugh. “Don't sound so surprised, Sancho. Did you really think I went around spreading my legs for Saddler's goons? I do have standards, you know.”

Something possessive curled in Leon's chest at the thought of Luis with any of those monsters. His grip tightened on Luis' leg and he thrust in hard, punching a groan out of Luis that soothed some of the sudden jealousy.

“Dios mío, I knew you’d be amazing,” Luis murmured, choking on a groan when Leon did it again. “I wanted to hop on this American ride as soon as I saw you.”

Leon huffed and glanced at the stairs, having a silent debate with himself. When Luis moaned quietly, his eyes were instantly drawn back to the mess of a man in his arms, effectively making the decision for him.

Leon bent his leg and braced one foot on the mattress for leverage. "Then you'd better strap in," he warned.

Leon pulled out almost all the way before roughly pushing back in, giving Luis no time to adjust before setting a brutal pace and fucking him in earnest.

“Ah!” Luis gasped, hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as Leon’s thrusts rocked him forward. “Fuck—fuck, Leon, don’t stop.”

Leon felt a smile tugging on his lips even as sweat was starting to bead on his brow. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He held Luis more firmly against him as he pumped in and out, pleasure surging from the tip of his cock and up through his spine with every thrust into Luis’ now-sloppy hole.

Luis was far from passive, squirming and moaning and using what little leverage he had to meet Leon’s thrusts, fucking himself back on Leon’s cock.

“Fuck,” Leon cursed. “It’s like you were made for this.”

Luis groaned loudly at that and Leon placed his hand on his throat in warning.

“Oh,” Luis gasped. “Yes, yes, please…!”

“Stay quiet,” Leon hissed.

He pressed down just the barest amount on Luis' throat, not trusting himself to really choke with the precarious situation they were in. Luis however seemed to get off on him simply holding his hand there—at least based on the increase in his quiet moans.

The room echoed with the obscene slap of skin against skin and their muted sounds of pleasure. Leon’s muscles were starting to burn after the two days of nonstop battles but he steeled himself and kept thrusting, not faltering once from the steady pace—

Until Luis jolted like he’d been electrocuted and exclaimed, “Fuck, right there!”

Leon briefly slowed down to tilt his hips, trying to get the angle again. “Like this?”

“Yes,” Luis practically sobbed from pleasure. “That’s—oh, cariño, you're perfect.”

The praise shot straight to Leon's dick and made him choke on a moan, focusing on sliding his cock over Luis' prostate with newfound determination.

“¡Joder!” Luis rasped, his voice raw. "So good, Leon—fuck, you’re going to make me come."

Leon shuddered from arousal and did his best to keep it up, driving his cock into Luis and over that spot deep inside that had him squirming and moaning, working him closer and closer to the edge.

Unfortunately, Leon could feel himself fast approaching his own orgasm. "I'm close," he warned.

“Yes, cariño, yes,” Luis moaned, sliding his hand down to tug on his own dick.

Luis’ ass squeezed around Leon in time with the jerks of his cock, making everything too much, too hot, too good—

“Oh, shit,” Leon moaned, his thrusts erratic as he teetered on the edge. “Where do you want it?”

“Inside,'' Luis immediately said, throwing his head back. “Come in me, use me, Leon, I'm yours!”

Two more pumps into Luis’ body was all Leon could manage before the pleasure exploded. All of his muscles went rigid as he squeezed Luis’ thigh hard enough to leave bruises, groaning low in his throat as he pumped his release deep inside Luis’ clenching heat.

Luis' moan was long and breathy as Leon fucked his way through his release. Leon could see Luis’ arm flexing, frantically working over his own cock to follow Leon over the edge.

Still panting from his own orgasm, Leon pressed more firmly on Luis’ windpipe, actually cutting off some of his airflow, and then leaned in to place a kiss on his half-exposed shoulder before biting the skin—

Luis shouted a silent scream and jerked in Leon's hold, his body squeezing Leon’s softening cock almost painfully as Luis spasmed and came all over the sheets.

Leon eased up against the pressure on his throat and Luis gasped, panting for breath and shivering in Leon's arms. For a few moments, everything was quiet and still in the post-orgasmic haze, and then…

“Jesus, José y Maria,” Luis said. “You actually aren't mad at me.”

"Told you," Leon snorted. He pulled out, trying to be gentle about it, but Luis still hissed. "Sorry."

Luis looked over his shoulder with raised eyebrows. "Sorry? Mi príncipe, I should send you a fruit basket and twenty thank-you cards. That was magnifíco."

"Yeah," Leon said. "Yeah, it…it really was."

Luis sighed happily as Leon lowered his leg back to the mattress and caressed over the finger-shaped bruises he'd managed to leave behind.

"So…" Luis flopped onto his back, not seeming in any hurry to clean up. "Am I to understand that you do this with everyone who tries to double-cross you but eventually ends up helping you?"

Leon huffed and shook his head in disbelief. He should’ve known the subject of Ada would come up sooner or later.

"Me and Ada weren't like that," Leon said. At Luis' skeptical look, he added, "I mean, she'll always be my first love. Even if she was just using me during the worst night of my life, I was still hung up on her for six years."

Luis was silent for a beat, and Leon belatedly realized that talking about his sort-of-ex not even two minutes after coming inside another person was probably a major mood killer for most people.

But because Luis wasn't like most people, he simply smirked.

"First love, eh?" Luis said, a flirty glint in his eyes even as sweat matted his hair to his forehead. "I wonder what happened after those six years."

And Leon watched that knowing little smile and deep blue eyes much more wise beyond what the nonchalant facade would suggest. It was like Luis knew—like he saw right through Leon and knew that he'd once again fallen hard and fast.

Because it had taken everything out of Leon to put the mission first. And what kept him going wasn’t the thought of getting back to his ratty apartment or returning the president's daughter and getting praised as a hero…

But rather the image of that stupid smirk and whispered Spanish endearments. And every time they were close like this, every time Luis looked at him with his tired eyes and hopeful smile, it was getting harder and harder for Leon not to beg, “Please stay with me once this is over.”

Before he could say something he’d regret, Leon forced out a sarcastic huff and shoved lightly at Luis. “Don’t push your luck.”

After Leon climbed over him to return to his lookout by the window, Luis only chuckled and rolled out of bed to reach for his pants.

A moment later, Luis draped himself over Leon's back like he’d done not that long ago. Leon still didn’t push him away—not now, and not probably not ever.

"It's okay, cielito," Luis murmured, placing a kiss on the nape of Leon's neck. "I feel the same."

Leon just stared out of the window, his heart beating frantically in his chest as Luis stayed there hugging him.

“Please don’t leave,” he wanted to say. “I like it when you touch me,” would also be true, or, “I feel like I can do anything when I’m with you.”

All of those thoughts could be summed up in three words. Three tiny little words that Leon knew to be true but couldn’t bring himself to say—couldn’t even bring himself to think. Because if he did, something would go to shit again, and Luis would die, just like everyone else who got close to Leon—

“I could go for a smoke,” Luis said out of the blue.

Leon exhaled hard, something in his body loosening. He hadn’t even realized how much he’d tensed up.

“Sure,” Leon agreed.

Leon unlocked the door and followed Luis outside. Luis smoked in silence while Leon did one last check around the cabin’s exterior looking for nonexistent threats.

When they returned inside, Leon went right back to his chair by the window.

Luis didn’t look surprised as much as disappointed. “You're not coming to bed?”

“I have to keep watch,” Leon said.

Luis’ eyes softened and he smiled sadly, and Leon only then realized his mistake.

Not, “I’ll keep watch,” or, “I’ll take the first shift.”

But, “I have to keep watch.”

Leon swallowed and looked resolutely out of the window to avoid Luis’ pitying gaze.

“You should go to sleep,” Leon said, more gruffly than he meant to.

Luis sighed in an exaggerated manner. “Mierda, such a hardass.” Leon heard his footsteps approaching, before a warm hand ruffled Leon’s hair. “Have it your way, cariño.”

Leon relaxed at the familiar banter and even managed a small smile to their reflections in the window. “Night, Luis.”

Luis winked back at his reflection. “Goodnight, mi príncipe.”

With that, Luis turned and walked to the bed, and Leon heard the bed creaking as Luis threw himself onto it with a satisfied groan. Only a few minutes later, soft snoring filled the cabin; nothing like several near-death experiences followed by sex and a cigarette to knock a Luis out.

Leon's grip tightened around his pistol as he kept staring into the empty village. Even if the monsters were all in his head, he wouldn’t let his guard down.

The looters could come if they wanted to. Hell, the cult could send a mutated amalgamation of Saddler, Mendez and Salazar after him for all he cared, or the US government could try to shove Luis in jail for crimes he had repented for five times over. He'd fight them all.

Nothing would stand between Leon and protecting those he cared about.

═════════════

“—And the dynamite blew off the troll’s armor, making me save the day once again!” Luis said.

“Yeah, right,” Ashley huffed. “You totally rodeo’d on top of a monster bigger than a house.”

“Mi preciosa!” Luis gasped. “How it wounds me, a beauty like you thinking that I would lie.”

“Uh-huh. I think I’ll just ask Leon later.”

Leon smiled to himself and kept walking as the two others gossiped further behind.

He was leading them to the extraction point that Hunnigan had radioed in earlier in the morning. The night had gone by without further incident—apart from Leon nodding off in his chair and Luis' jacket mysteriously having appeared draped over him come morning—and in half an hour or so, they’d be up in the air and finally out of this godforsaken village.

“So…” Ashley said after a beat of silence.

“Yes, chica?” Luis asked.

“Was he good, or…?” Ashley trailed off.

Only years of training kept Leon’s steps from faltering. He had to be more sleep-deprived than he thought, because surely Ashley wasn't implying…?

“Hm?” Luis' voice sounded casual, but Leon could pick up on the panic undermeath. “Good at what, bonita?”

“Oh, come on,” Ashley scoffed. “If I hadn’t already noticed the two days’ worth of sexual tension, I sure as hell knew from the bed banging against the wall and ‘Yes, Leon, harder!’”

Jesus Christ, she had heard them. Luis just burst out into laughter, but Leon hoped Ashley couldn’t see that the trained professional sent to rescue her was blushing furiously.

“Oh, he was fantástico,” Luis said, no longer bothering to protest, and Leon just knew he was smirking. “Maybe once you are older, we can give you a demonstration—”

“I'm telling the president you repeatedly propositioned his daughter,” Leon said.

Ashley laughed even as Luis whined.

“Aww, querido, I thought we had something special,” Luis teased.

Leon looked over his shoulder at the man. “Then maybe you should stop flirting with other people.”

Luis actually blushed at that, his cheeks going ruddy, and Leon found that extremely interesting. “W-well, a ladies' man such as myself—” Luis started.

“Oh, can it, Casanova,” Ashley said, rolling her eyes. “I've seen you making those puppy eyes at him. Nice to know that Leon's charm just needed the right target to work.”

She smiled at Leon and something in him relaxed. Maybe Ashley knowing wouldn't be such a terrible thing after all.

“I'll have you know that I was the one who charmed him,” Luis said.

“Sure, 'amigo'.” Ashley patted his cheek. “Don't worry. I'll tell dad all about your research that saved my life and give an official recommendation that it's in the best interest of the nation for you to keep working with Agent Kennedy. You make a good team and are both great assets to our country.”

Both men looked at Ashley in confusion. She narrowed her eyes.

“You both thought I was dumb just because I'm blond and pretty, didn't you?” she accused.

Leon's mouth opened and closed but he got no words out.

“No, no, mi preciosa, of course not," Luis lied through his teeth.

Ashley rolled her eyes and sauntered past them. “Men.”

Leon and Luis merely shared a shocked look, before Luis grinned and gestured after her.

“Shall we?” Luis said.

“You sure got everything you need from the village?” Leon asked.

“Sí,” Luis said, patting the breast pocket of his jacket. On their way here, they had all made a quick detour to retrieve Luis' grandfather's journal and the only picture of the two of them together. “There is nothing more for me in Valdelobos.”

Leon nodded. “And your story?”

“Ah, Sancho, what story?” Luis grinned. When Leon frowned, he continued, “I was merely a young boy fresh out of university, recruited by one of the most prestigious employers out there! I developed medicines and researched dangerous parasites, but sadly found out that my medicines never made it to the public and that my research was used to create parasites, not treat them.”

Luis sighed exaggeratedly. “Angry at the company, I packed up my research and stole invaluable Umbrella equipment to return to my hometown and start over. Unfortunately, the village had been overrun by a madman with a mind-control parasite who captured me and forced me to work for him.”

Luis grinned and tapped his temple. “But I wasn’t born yesterday, you see. I knew that Saddler was up to no good and I secretly researched how to destroy the Plaga. When I was injected with the parasite to ensure my obedience, I tested the method on myself, and this scar is my mark of success.”

Luis tugged down his collar to expose the scar on his chest, and Leon nodded and resolutely tried not to think about his mouth on that same scar last night.

“With a successful removal procedure invented and all of my knowledge of the Plaga, I knew I could not stay under Saddler’s thumb—it was only a matter of time before they would catch on to my betrayal,” Luis said. “And with the cult occupied with a hostage of some sort, I made a break for it. Little did I know the hostage was the president’s daughter and I would end up helping to rescue her and fighting alongside Agent Kennedy to take down Los Iluminados.”

Leon huffed. Of course Luis remembered the entirety of their agreed upon cover story without trouble.

“That is no story, only the truth! It is just a shame that all the evidence exploded along with the entire island.” Luis shrugged. “Fortunately, Miss Graham and Agent Kennedy are both willing to testify when it comes to my invaluable help in saving their lives. Now, I am merely a humble refugee who also happens to be the best chance the world has to survive another outbreak of Las Plagas or Umbrella’s parasites.”

“You sure are,” Leon agreed. His mouth quirked up into a half-smile. “Someone should probably assign a high-ranking agent as your bodyguard, just in case.”

“Oh? Well if you insist,” Luis said, his fake nonchalance giving way for a knowing grin. “But you are still certain of wishing to lie to your government, mi príncipe? Could get you into trouble, somewhere down the line.”

It was a no-brainer for Leon. Ashley didn’t know the whole truth about Luis’ past and thus couldn’t even lie about it, everyone else involved with Los Iluminados was dead, and Leon couldn’t imagine Ada being interested in leaking her and Luis’ agreement to the US government.

“Running away from trouble isn’t really my style,” Leon said. “And the higher-ups seemed all too happy to lie about project Javier. I’d say saving one loud-mouthed scientist is a small thing in comparison.”

“Yes, yes!” Luis quickly agreed. “Absolutely microscopic, in the grand scheme of things. Writing one little pardon? Not even a milliliter of ink from the president’s expensive pen will be wasted.”

Luis was walking closer as he rambled, until he stood right before Leon.

Leon smiled at him. “Just…don’t help to start another parasite outbreak, yeah?”

“Hmm, I’ll have to think about it.” Luis smirked, a clever hand coming up to run alongside Leon’s shoulder strap. “I might need a trusty squire by my side to help make the right decisions.”

Leon smiled and rested his hand on Luis’ hip. “Good thing I know a guy who has some experience with that.”

Luis leaned in first, the smile staying on his face even as his eyelids lowered and he gripped Leon’s harness firmly. Getting the hint, Leon closed his eyes and moved to meet him halfway…

“Leeooon!” Ashley’s whiny yell coming from further ahead made Leon tense and look up in alert. “I need a boost up this stupid rock!”

As Leon breathed out in relief, Luis chuckled and stepped away, turning back to the trail.

“Ah, and the moment is gone,” Luis said, then gestured onward with a grin. “Come then, Sancho Panza. New adventures await!”

Luis’ eyes shone with excitement, his smile brighter than the sun, and Leon—

Leon grabbed a handful of dark brown hair and surged forward into a kiss. He only had time for a simple press of lips and a quick tease of his tongue along Luis’ bottom lip, but the surprised gasp and following moan were well worth it.

“Yeah,” Leon said, pulling away. “I can’t wait.”

With that, Leon continued up the trail to help Ashley, smiling when he heard Luis laugh before following him.

And for the first time in six years, Leon found himself hopeful for what the future might bring.

#serennedy #luis serra #leon kennedy #re4make #ashley graham #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil 4 #re 4 remake #que fic

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k-dokja · 2 years

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I just saw your father son and Holy Spirit post and they’re literally all the same man in the same font- also!!!! Since u prefer taehoon reqs rn going off of that post, maybe some sort of crossover one shot w reader x taehoon that acknowledges when Johan came to learn taekwondo from him?

“Will you stop that?!”

The fifth time Taehoon flinched away from you, the cotton stick in your hand transformed into your new weapon and flew straight at his forehead. At least, for all of his snarling and grumbling, Taehoon had yet managed to chase you away completely.

“Stop pressing the disinfectant like you're trying to drill it in!” He snapped back but scooted into place anyway.

Glaring at him, you retrieved new cotton from the medical kit. “How else would you expect me to clean the wounds?” Even with your grumbling, you continued to help him patch up the bleeding he received from the fight earlier. “It was your fault in the first place to get your ass kicked.”

Really, you were a saint for putting up with him for this long.

“Hey, I won!” He argued back. “It took me by surprise to see him using my kicks, that was all.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night,” you rolled your eyes back into their sockets, annoyed with the adamant defence of his pride.

There was truth to his words, of course, but it didn't help that Taehoon got into a fight during a date. That alone made him deserve an insurmountable amount of disinfectant. “You saw how the damned bastard got out of nowhere and started attacking me,” he grumbled, “he didn't even say what he wanted, just trying to pick a fight.”

You hummed as you moved to another bruise of his, “His movements were funky though, never saw anyone who practiced martial arts who moved that way before.”

“Yeah... like he lacked the fundamental. There was no groundwork, he simply went straight for the execution.” Taehoon nodded along with your dissection of his previous opponent.

Mulling back to what happened earlier, a thought occurred to you, “Like he just copied what he saw?”

“Something like that,” he clicked his tongue, “every now and then, a copycat who has a natural instinct for fighting surfaces. I can't stand those motherfuckers, shit comes so easily for them. ”

“Bold words from spinning kick genius,” you snorted before putting another cotton filled disinfectant on his skin.

“We’re nothing alike, I trained hard for my—Ouch! Be gentle, damnit!”

“This is gentle! Stop complaining!”

#seong taehoon #seong taehoon x reader #how to fight #viral hit #fics

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whyme13wr · 1 year

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Serendipity pt.1

― pairing: Park Jihoon x OC

― serendipity: to discover mothing beautiful by chance or accident

― summary: Yeonseo meets him by chance but she never wants to let him go.

idol!Jihoon | student!oc | LoveAtFirstSight!au | fluff | 2k

― playlist: Let's Go Picnic - George | Aespa - I'm Unhappy | Hello Stranger - Kai | Park Jihoon - Moon & Back

a/n: here it is my first fanfic, don't be too harsh on me ;) if people actually read this I'll write part 2

She hasn't even reached the top of the mountain yet, but she already feels like giving up. Her lungs are tight and her legs burn. She had read somewhere that walking improves both physical and mental health, and she definitely needs it now.

With exams coming up, she has been under a lot of stress lately. She had moved to Seoul four years ago after being accepted into one of the country's top universities. It was fun to live in such a big city, a big change from the town she grew up in. However, things have been overwhelming lately and she misses her hometown, her family and her childhood friends more than ever.

She's been looking for hiking trails in Anyang. It's not too far from Seoul and will allow her to get some fresh air. At first, it was nice to be in the middle of nature, but it's been three hours since she's been on the trail and she still doesn't see the end of it. This idea seemed less ingenious.

Eventually she reached a place where other walkers were taking a break. There were several benches to sit on. She decided to take the one furthest away. As she was making her way to it, she stumbled. Her knees hit the ground and her hands saved her from falling face first. Well, that was embarrassing. There are about ten other people here, she can't help feeling sorry for herself. She came here to make herself feel better, but she can't even do that.

As she tries to get up, a young man approaches her, holding her water bottle. He reaches out with his other hand for her to grab it and help her to get to her feet. She's in no position to refuse him.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concern written all over his face. That fall must have been quite a show for a random stranger to come help her.

"I'm fine, I think..." she checked her appearance for injuries. Her leggings were torn and her knees were bloody.

"Ouch! You're bleeding, that must hurt." He said, taking in her appearance.

“I’m not feeling the pain yet but my pride definitely took a hit. That fall was so embarrassing.” She felt her face flush.

"Don't worry, it can happen to anyone. This is yours, by the way." He says, handling her water bottle, which must have flown earlier.

"Thank you," she says, taking it from him, "not just for the bottle, but for helping me... What's your name?"

"Don't mention it! My name is Park Jihoon." He said, holding out his hand for her to shake.

She took it and replied, "I'm Shin Yeonseo, nice to meet you".

"Likewise," he says with the most beautiful smile, "Do you have anything to disinfect your wounds?"

"Um... No, I didn't come prepared, you see."

"I've got a first aid kit, if you want it. It's with my friends over there." He says. He points to a group of three boys. Yeonseo thought about it and felt that it was an offer she couldn't really refuse. Besides, this guy was cute and friendly. Why not spend a little more time with him? With her studies taking up most of her time, it's rare for her to meet such nice guys.

She replied: "I'd like that".

They made their way there and he introduced her to his friends.

"Guys, this is Yeonseo. Yeonseo, these are my friends Woojin, Guanlin and Jisung."

"Nice to meet you."

She could feel a kind of tension in the air, but not directed at her. They all had their eyes on Jihoon as if it were their eyes that did the talking.

"As you can see," he said, "Yeonseo has been injured. I offered our first aid kit since she didn't have one."

Jisung spoke first while looking at her knees, "Ouch, that must be painful!"

She replied, "Yes, it doesn't look too good, but I'm lucky that your friend came to help me. At least I won't go home with infected wounds." They shook their heads in agreement and she followed Jihoon as he opened one of the bags and took out the kit. She began to clean her wounds with some water. Jihoon took out the disinfectant spray and asked her if he could spray it on her knees. She nodded, a blush visible on her cheeks. She definitely needed this gentleman's number. Where would she find someone like him? She was lost in thoughts about how to ask him for his number when his friends came.

Jisung said “Whenever you’re ready, how about we set off? If you’re not in too much pain, you should join us Yeonseo!” Jihoon looked at her with an hopeful look.

“I would love that! I came here alone and wouldn’t mind the company as a matter of fact.”

“You came here alone? That’s quite brave!” Guanlin said.

“None of my friends are into hiking so didn't have much choice. I wouldn’t say it’s brave.” She responded.

“I think it’s pretty brave to challenge yourself to walk for that long by yourself.” Jihoon added shyly. “Will you truly be okay though?” He added, referring to your bruised knees.

“I’m fine, don't worry about me.” She said with a smile. And with that, the five of them started to get going.

"So how do you know each other?" Yeonseo asks. They all exchange looks. Jihoon finally replies, "We used to work together.

"Oh really?! What did you do? "

"We are dancers." Jihoon replies quickly with a bit of a nervous look on his face. She thought it was because he wasn't used to talking about himself.

"How cool! I don't know how to dance, but I admire anyone who can control their body like dancers do. Besides, you guys are young, but you're already at work, that's impressive!"

"I'm not that young myself, if I dare say so, but thank you," Jisung replied, making everyone laugh. Jihoon whispered to her that he was already over 30 and she reacted with a shocked face.

Jisung noticed her reaction and said, "Do I look that much younger? She nodded with a broad smile.

"And what do you do?" Jihoon says.

"I'm studying medicine at Yonsei University."

"You must be very smart, isn't Yonsei one of the best universities in Korea?" Guanlin asked.

"It is, I have always liked science and physics. It came naturally to me. But it's much harder at Yonsei. I'm no longer at the top of my class. Every student here is somehow gifted. It's weird, all my life I've been complimented on how smart I am, but in my class I'm just average.

"It must be a lot of pressure." Jihoon said.

"It's not easy, but I love it. There are no limits to what you can learn in this field. Every year there are new discoveries about the human body, so there is always something new to learn." She explained with passion in her eyes.

"So why did you come here alone?" Woojin asked.

"I'm from the country, I thought spending some time in nature would help me relax. I feel a bit homesick these days."

"I can relate to that. When I was living in Korea, I couldn't help but dream of going back to Taiwan, even though I loved my work here. But somehow I want my life back here now that I am back home. Guanlin said. Everyone nodded, understanding the nostalgia.

"Where are you from, Yeonseo?" Jihoon asked.

"I'm from Hadong."

"Really?! A few years ago, Woojin and I actually took a trip there. It was beyond beautiful. The cherry trees looked so pretty." Jihoon said with stars in his eyes.

"No way! Not many people in Seoul know about Hadong, I'm surprised. Usually people would rather go to Busan."

"Well, we didn't regret our choice of destination. The food was delicious too!"

"If Jihoon says it's good, you have to believe him. He is not even the biggest seafood lover. Woojin added.

"It warms my heart to hear that the food from my hometown is loved."

"Do you know how to cook?" Woojin asked.

"I know my way around the kitchen, but I might be a bit rusty." She said jokingly. "It's been a long time since I cooked for anyone but myself. As a thank you for putting up with me, maybe I could cook for you."

"It's really no problem. You're fun to be around. Still, it's an offer we can't refuse. At least I can't refuse homemade food." Jihoon jokes.

"That trip was many years ago, I would love to taste Hadong's food again." Woojin added.

"Then I guess I have no choice." She smiled. "My place is pretty small though, I don't know if it will be comfortable for all of us."

"I haven't used it once since I bought my apartment, maybe you could use my kitchen." Jihoon offered.

"Really?"

"Yes, really!" He beamed. She couldn't help but smile back at him. "Guanlin is going back to China in a week, will you be available before he leaves?"

"Um... I don't know, I have exams at the end of the month..." Guanlin looked at her with puppy eyes, as if to say: "Please make an exception.

"It would have been nice, but if you can't, it can't be helped." Jisung said.

She really thought about it. She still had at least two weeks until the exams, one night of socializing wouldn't hurt, would it? Add to that the fact that she wanted to get to know Jihoon better, and she came to the conclusion that she could find the time.

"I think I can make time."

"Great! How is Thursday? I don't have any plans that day." Guanlin suggested. Jihoon and Woojin agreed, only Jisung wouldn't be able to make it.

"You guys enjoy yourselves without me. I have a schedule." Jisung said with a small smile.

"Send me the list of the groceries, Yeonseo, and I'll take care of it." Jihoon offered.

"Sure, send me your bank account number later so I can pay you back."

"You find time to cook for us, that's your payment." He says warmly.

"We're about to reach the top of the mountain, guys!" Woojin tells them, some distance ahead of Jihoon and Yeonseo. Elated to have finally reached the summit, they take group selfies together. The view is definitely worth sweating and bleeding for, Yeonseo thinks to herself. The boys asked her to take pictures of them. They look like they're really close, almost like brothers. She takes a moment to look at the view while the boys goof around. Jihoon joins her a few minutes later.

"This is relaxing, right?" She nods as they enjoy the view together for a few more minutes before joining the rest of the boys.

“This picture is the best, I bet it will make the fa-” Woojin stops.

"The family is really happy, right Woojin?" Jisung saves the day for Jihoon. It's not that he wants to hide his job, but it's nice to have someone who doesn't recognise him for once. He wants to make a connection without worrying that the person only likes him because he is a celebrity. He wants to get to know Yeonseo before he tells her who he is. He doesn't have to explain this to the boys, because they understand. Unfortunately, they've all been in his position. Yeonseo doesn't seem to notice the boys' exchange of glances. Talking about all sorts of things, they begin their journey back. Eventually, Jihoon and Yeonseo stay a bit behind. Yeonseo's injuries prevented her from walking as fast as the others. The boys decided that this was a good opportunity to let Jihoon have some time alone with Yeonseo. They left, saying that they had to hurry. Yeonseo couldn't find it in her heart to complain about it at all. They talked about anything and everything all the way to the foot of the mountain where she had to wait for the bus back to Seoul.

"We have a free seat in our car if you want, Jisung is a good driver, I promise. " Jihoon joked.

"Don't worry, my bus is almost here. Thank you though. I'll let you enjoy your time with the boys."

"Fine, I won't put any pressure on you. We should exchange numbers, by the way." He tries to say nonchalantly. She can see he's a bit nervous, but doesn't comment. She adds her number to his contact list and calls herself to save his number for later. Just then her bus arrives. She waves goodbye and says: "See you on Thursday! He waves back with a big smile and watches her bus drive away.

He meets the boys at their car, and as he gets in they look at him with expectant eyes. "What?"

“What was that? Did you fall in love with her or what? I’ve never seen you like that with a girl dude!” Woojin adds.

"I don't know. At first I helped her out of kindness, but there's something about her I can't explain".

"Well, you've got her number and you know when you'll see her next, so well played!" Jisung said. Jihoon smiled at the thought of seeing her again.

Yeonseo sat on the bus with a huge grin on her face. Shit, what a good day, maybe her life won't be so miserable anymore. She couldn't wait to tell her roommate about Jihoon.

As soon as she got back to her flat, she went straight up to Minhee's room. Minhee looked surprised. "Wow, why do you have such a happy look on your face? I didn't know that walking would do that, I guess I should come with you next time".

"I met the man of my dreams," Yeonseo said, sitting on the chair by the desk while Minhee lay in her bed. He's beautiful, caring, kind, a good listener. Honestly, I could go on for hours."

"Don't you think you're exaggerating a bit," Minhee said in a joking way, "although I have to say I haven't seen you this excited in a very long time. So did you get his number?" At the same time Yeonseo gets a notification, she checks her phone and wriggles happily. Jihoon has just sent her a text message:

"Hey, this is Jihoon. I hope you got home safely. Don't forget to take care of those wounds of yours.

- I had a great time today, can't wait for Thursday. Have a good evening :)"

#Park Jihoon #Park Jihoon fanfic #Wanna One Park Jihoon #Wanna One Park Jihoon fanfic #Prak Jihoon fluff #soloist Park Jihoon #soloist Park Jihoon fanfic #kpop fanfic #park jihoon fluff

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esta-elavaris · 2 years

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Flufftober ‘22 - Day 4 - Supporting silly quirks/hobbies. [James/Theodora] [James Norrington/Modern!OC]

Note: So combat, given the wider story, doesn't really count as a silly quirk or hobby to anybody with a brain, but given how the average upstanding citizen would view this skill of Theodora's, her being a woman and all, it still counts, so nyeh. Anyway, this one really puts the fluff in flufftober because the main fic rn is just so much angst and this is a nice break from it.

[Set during the Tortuga era]

Theo lounged on the finest beach Tortuga had to offer (namely the one least defiled by various bodily fluids so far), staring up at the sky as it darkened, trying to catch her breath. The evening brought a cool breeze with it and it was a welcome one, working with the sweat on her brow to slowly chill her. She closed her eyes, welcoming it. It had been a long while since she was properly, pleasantly cold. She missed the cold - proper winters, too. Wrapping up, huddling beside a fire, generally not sweating her tits off on a near permanent basis. It wasn't all bad. It wasn't even really half bad. The tropical storms here always thrilled her, and here in Tortuga she could meet the heat without having to do so while encased in fifty thousand ridiculous layers.

The glaring downside, until recently, had been James' absence. And, as he lowered himself down into the patch of sand beside her, she noted happily that this was no longer a problem.

"I suppose," he breathed "That my pride shan't be too bruised, seeing as you can't quite defeat me without any exertion at all."

"If it was easy for me, would you be reconsidering?" She teased.

"No," he nudged his knee with hers - and the sincerity of his words almost had her feeling guilty for teasing him…until he continued "For my swordsmanship will always outrank yours."

"Ouch."

"You did ask. And it puts us on somewhat equal footing, at least."

"But if I manage to disarm you it's game over."

He gave that slight frown-smile that he always got when she said something that baffled him, but he didn't appear to have much trouble discerning the meaning of her words.

"That, my darling, is a very tenuous if. Fictitious, even, I'd boldly go so far as to say."

It was difficult to put on a show of being offended. Not when he called her his darling, and not only because what he was saying was painfully accurate to anybody who wasn't stupidly delusional, but because she liked this side of him. Whether it was down to that post-exercise buzz, the newfound ease between them (and the fact that there could be an ease between them in the first place, no less), the freedom that the general atmosphere that Tortuga offered, or the perfect culmination of all aspects at once, but he just seemed freer here. For all that he hated this place.

She couldn't help but think of the difference, too, of how he was now, sitting by her side and teasing her with a smirk on his face, to how he would be if she was not here. The idea that she alone could produce such a change in a man like him had her heart stuttering in her chest. And the fact that he could produce such a result in her probably suggested the power was mutual. As if she didn't already bloody well know that.

Her thoughts kept her quiet, and at the lack of some sort of smart-ass response, he turned to look down at her, eyebrows twitching upwards.

"Have I offended you into silence?" His tone remained teasing, but the look he levelled her with was genuinely curious.

Fair, too. When somebody talked as much shite as she liked to, silence must've been worrying.

"My pride is the one that's bruised now," she sniffed "Thoroughly wounded, even. Bleeding out into the sand."

"And yet your flair for the dramatic remains entirely intact."

"It's what pushes me forward. That, and spite," she debated what she was going to say next for but a split second, and then continued when she decided she wanted to see him blush "And handsome, surly Englishmen."

The flush worked its way up his neck immediately, and though it was disguised by his beard, the pleased - downright sodding adorable - smile that he didn't appear capable of fighting was clear for all to see.

"Englishmen?" He coughed "Plural, is it?"

She stretched a hand out towards him and he accepted it, wordlessly pulling her to sit up without a request needing to be uttered.

"All right, just the one."

"You must tell me who he is, so I may duel him for your hand," he ran his thumb over the knuckles of her hand, which remained in his even now that she was sitting upright.

Theo wasn't in the mood to needle him, though - not over this. She was too content. So she just hummed happily, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"No need. It's yours."

That smile was back again, but it was no longer quite so bashful as he turned his head and captured her lips in a kiss. It was chaste, but it still threatened to bowl her over. They parted but she didn't pull away much, leaning against him and humming her contentment when he let go of her hand in favour of wrapping an arm about her shoulders.

Main fic is here - AO3 -- FF.net

#flufftober2022 #james/theodora #james norrington #pirates of the caribbean #james norrington/oc

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knightconstellation · 1 year

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Greek Quiz

thank you, @somethingclich8 for tagging me in 'which tragic Greek figure are you?' I chose one OC and two of my own creations.

Will Summers (Criminal Minds):

Cyparissus

young cyparissus, innocent cyparissus, it was all only an accident. your stag, finding relief from the relentless summer sun of Apollo under the forest's trees, did not deserve the cruel wound of your javelin stuck within him, and you did not deserve to inadvertently be the cause of his death. but grief does not care about intent and accidents, does it? even now, your cypress trees cry your mourning tears.

Ouch but yes if Will was any Greek tragedy, this feels fairly accurate. My boy would harm no-one willingly.

Cyrene (the trilogy as of yet untitled):

Odysseus

you are that which men dream to be: strong, courageous, and noble, with more intelligence than you know what to do with. and, like all men, you do not account for your overabundance of pride. you long for your name to be wrapped in glory and honor, and your journey home is only made longer by your search for fights to win and monsters to trick.

I don't think I'd ever use intelligent to describe Cyrene but she would. The rest is very true.

Etena (C.R.O.W.S):

Icarus

what is there to be said of icarus? you were warned, yet you persisted, imprudently. but what of your first taste of liberation? the exhilaration that follows the first ray of the sun to touch you as you are, as a free man, makes you drunk on joy. we all know the foolish things that drunken people are capable of. was the fall as thrilling as the flight?

This one hurts a lil, not gonna lie. Etena, my little rebel, I back you all the way and don't worry I have a good ending planned for you.

I have no-one to tag so if you are reading this, consider yourself tagged.

link here

#tag games #uquiz #oc: will summers #criminal minds #criminal minds oc #writbelr #writblr #my wrtitng #my characters

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elfdragon12 · 1 year

Note

Poor Raoul is just tired, he really is as he sighs sadly as he stopped fighting Sg Tristan when he pinned him against the wall. He clenched his fists as he felt the evil version of his boyfriend kiss his neck but still didn’t bother to acknowledge him.

“you’re finally behaving?” Sg Tristan smirked.

“Just get it over with it,” Raoul muttered sadly.

Sg Tristan’s face fell, “What?”

“Do whatever you want, but you won’t have my heart… it’s already someone else’s,” Raoul whispers, a little smile grew on his face as he thought about his Tristan fondly. He yearned for him, he always will.

Sg Tristan felt like someone punched him. Raoul was still yearning for ANOTHER man. He yanked on Raoul’s hair and made him look at him, “For the love of- why can’t you love me? Why cant you just give me what I want!?”

Raoul smiles sadly, tears going down his face, “Isn’t this what you want?”

“…not like this.” Sg Tristan coldly replied as he let Raoul go and went back downstairs to the bar table. Raoul sighs, going into the guest room and fell in bed. Depressed and exhausted. This isn’t the last time, he knew that. He merely wounded Sg Tristan’s pride. He will be back at it again, sooner rather than later.

Ouch

At least, for now, Raoul can rest. SG Tristan's mood has been completely killed.

#Ask #Anonymous #Humanformers #Shattered Glass #Anon SG fanfic emporium

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imagining-in-the-margins · 3 years

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Study Session (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer really hates his student, but he can’t resist her. Request: "Professor Reid x reader smut request? I'm just saying I'd like it to be very obscene." + "Enemies to lovers?" Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Degradation/humiliation kink, heavy degradation, Professor/Student, implied age gap (not specified), hate fuck, fingering, penetrative sex, alcohol, drunk sex, protected sex (condom), semi-public sex Word Count: 7.6k

MASTERLIST

There is a reason bars are referred to as watering holes. Aside from the sticky, sugary residue that coats the floorboards and every other surface, there is an undeniable variety amongst the patrons. I could have pretended like I was somehow above the average person at the establishment I was sitting in, but I always try my hardest not to lie if it isn’t absolutely necessary.

Most nights, I was just like everyone else — seeking regrettable company to cope with the mind numbing monotony of my program.

Most nights. But not that night.

That night I saw him, still wearing his three piece suit and nursing something that matched the treacle color of his eyes while the hue of the bar lights reflected into a golden halo around his head. He looked so unfortunately, tragically beautiful seated alone at the crowded bar.

There was something else about him, though. Something strange and hollow in his usually lively movements. His hand rubbed over the back of his neck, and I wondered if it was because he felt my gaze cutting through him. My suspicion was confirmed seconds later, when he finally turned just far enough to meet my eyes through the crowd.

The contact made my heart beat harder before stopping entirely. I was so busy battling my own instincts and selfish desires that I wasn’t able to respond to the challenge in his eyes. Instead, I looked away, hoping I would snap back to my senses. It wasn’t for long, but it was long enough that he vanished by the time I had the courage to look for him again.

I wasn’t going to chase him. If he wanted to hide among the crowds, I would let him. I would let him slip away from the watering hole back to the safety of whatever he called home.

I wasn’t going to chase him, but he found me.

He passed by me with such a casual step that I almost missed him. But just as he’d felt my eyes, I felt his. My body was drawn to him like the most powerful magnet. All it took was one look, and I found myself leaving my seat and trailing after him through the back of the bar.

He had to have known that I was following him, but he never turned around to check. Maintaining the same slow pace and mysterious aura, the man led me straight out the back door and into the cool night air. The latch clicked shut, the noise making the silence of the alleyway all the more noticeable.

“Fancy meeting you here, Professor.”

“My being here is odd,” he said, leaning back against the brick wall and refusing to look me in the eyes, “Yours is very predictable.”

“Ouch,” I winced, though my body language depicted anything but a wounded pride, “You make me sound so cliché.”

“Aren’t you?”

Rather than falling into the trap that he’d set, I laughed. I accepted his perception and played further into it. He didn’t even try to maintain our distance when I stepped closer.

“I’m sensing a lot of judgement here, Professor. Why is that? You’re also here.”

He finally looked at me, and it caused shivers to run down my spine.

“Unlike you, I don’t have more pressing concerns.”

I didn’t let his words nor his boredom dissuade me. I came as close to him as I could with his stance, and then leaned forward to make up the difference.

“What are these more pressing concerns of mine? I’m pretty content with where I’ve found myself.”

“You really want me to say it?” he challenged, a hint of playfulness finally sparking behind the apathy.

When I nodded, Spencer also craned his neck forward. He was close enough that I could almost feel his cheek against mine, but he denied me anything that could be mistaken for affection.

With his breath hot against my ear, he whispered, “With your marks, you should be spending a lot more time worrying about your academic career, and a lot less time worrying about finding someone to fuck you.”

Goosebumps rippled over my skin, but they still were not the most visceral of responses I had to the filthy words dancing along his tongue. When he pulled back, there was a hunger that was too potent to simply be my reflection. He looked into my half-lidded eyes, and he found something worthwhile.

“What if it’s you? Would that count as me worrying about my academic career?” I asked with a poorly feigned innocence. Spencer laughed. It was a dark, bitter sound, but enough to encourage my antics. “We can even talk about different kinds of marks.”

Any amusement that might have been found among his features was ripped away from me by his hand rooted into the hair at the base of my skull. Spencer used that hold to force my head back before pulling me closer.

“Listen closely, young lady,” he said like I had any other option. Like I wasn’t enchanted by the feel of his warm breath once again hitting my ear. He could feel the way breath stuttered and my body stumbled straight into him with eager hands. I could almost feel his smirk against my ear when he concluded, “I would never... ever sleep with you.”

And just like that, he was gone. He didn’t just drop me; he tossed me to his side like the very notion of being that close to me disgusted him. The desire that had been burning inside of my chest quickly shifted to rage.

He could pretend like he didn’t want me, but there was no other justification for bringing me out to the back in the first place. There was no reason to allow me to confront him, nor for him to discuss my sex life in any manner at all.

Seconds after we were both inside again, I grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him back to me. Surprisingly, there was very little resistance. It was almost like he was waiting for me to do it. I tugged him into the small, dimly lit bathroom without a care in the world for who might have seen us or what whispers might follow. Spencer was already laughing, apparently amused by anger rolling off of me.

“Say it again,” I ordered through heavy breaths, “Say it to my face.”

I’d prepared myself for a number of responses — most of which were varying levels of humiliating, such as a reminder that he hadjust said it to my face. What I hadn’t prepared for, however, were the words that actually came out of his mouth.

Casually, and without question, Spencer ordered, “Get on your knees.”

He was so calm that I felt like it must have been a trick. It took everything in me not to fall to my knees, and instead I managed to ask, “Why?”

His answer was as unhelpful as it was alluring.

“Because I said so.”

The world was spinning, and I couldn’t tell if it was from my labored breathing, the alcohol in my system, or if my heart had actually just given out. Either way, I stumbled down onto the tile. Spencer didn’t offer any assistance; he just watched me struggle in heels and a too-short dress.

Once I was settled, wavering just enough to show my enthusiasm without him being able to question my capacity to consent, he finally started to undo his belt. I watched with rapt fascination when the buckle finally fell away. I was so fixated on the sight of his hands about to reveal himself to me that I almost failed to respond to his question.

“Is this what you want?”

My cheeks were burning, and a sudden shyness overcame me as I whimpered. It wasn’t enough of an answer for him, though. He demanded something else.

Spencer slid his palm over my hair, taking his sweet time on his descent to my chin. I nuzzled into his hand like there was actually any affection in the gesture rather than the condescension I was certain that he’d felt.

But then he lifted my chin, forcing me to make eye contact with him, and my whole body shook.

“Yes,” I finally breathed, “Please.”

When my eyes were able to focus on him again, though, I found no mercy in fiery golden irises. In fact, I found just the opposite.

“You’re pathetic,” he sneered through more dark laughter, “Look at yourself. You really think I’d let you do that?”

My stomach twisted in knots. The heart that had been lodged in my throat quickly dropped from my chest just as quickly as Spencer’s hand fell away.

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. I couldn’t tell you what I was thinking, or if I honestly believed anything that I had said during the night. But what I did know for sure was that I wasn’t ready to let him slip away from me that easily.

So, with unfettered hope and a pitiful stutter, I replied, “Y-Yes.”

“What?”

It was a decent enough question. Whether it was meant to be rhetorical or not, I didn’t care. I answered him, nonetheless.

“Yes! I think you would let me. In fact… I think you want me to.”

I raised shaky hands and pressed them against his thighs. Spencer did not stop me; he continued to dare me with narrowed eyes and a tightly shut jaw. So, I moved, smoothing my hands over his legs until they came to rest at his hips. I didn’t remove his pants any more than he had.

I did something better. I listened to every sound I could elicit, running my nose over the fabric and waiting for him to do something. I was a little impressed by how far he was letting this game of chicken go, but I knew what would cause one of us to fold.

Parting my lips around the unmistakable bulge beneath his briefs, I let out one hot breath. Just one. That was all it took for Spencer’s hands to fly to the back of my head and pull me harder against him. Of course, that very movement caused another breath to leave me, albeit this time through the form of a loud moan.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, and I took it as a signal that my plan had worked. Unfortunately, before my hands could get anywhere near close enough to remove him from the confines of his clothes, Spencer had grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back to my feet. He held tighter when I stumbled, ensuring that I wouldn’t go far while he refastened his pants with one hand.

He looked at me again, with slightly smeared make-up and pupils blown wide.

“Fuck!” he repeated, and that time it made me smile.

Whatever delicious thought that he’d hidden behind the profanity wasn’t shared with me, but I hardly cared about the words when Spencer moved again. With his hand still clutching my arm, he all but dragged me out of the bathroom and straight through the bar.

I was barely able to keep up with his pace, much less formulate any meaningful thought. I followed him in a purely instinctive, lustful haze. I didn’t care about the friends I’d abandoned at the bar, nor what they would think watching me chase after our professor like a lovesick puppy.

I’d wanted him for so long, and I was close enough that I could taste it.

Like a true gentleman, Spencer opened the passenger side door of his car for me. Unfortunately, I was a bit too shocked that this was really happening for me to do anything. I turned to look at him, to confirm once more that this wasn’t a cruel joke.

He wasn’t feeling patient, however.

“Get in.”

I crossed my arms, now determined to be as problematic as possible in response to his order.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home,” he answered bluntly.

Still, I scoffed at the pretense he’d chosen.

“Seriously? What are you, my daddy?”

Spencer continued with his frustrated stare, refusing to budge even a little in response to my frankly hilarious joke.

“Fine,” I muttered, my ego soothed by the fact he’d offered his hand for me to hold for balance when I climbed inside. He did not become any more amiable once he was in the car. Every time that I moved in my seat, whether it was to readjust my hair and makeup in the mirror, answer a text, or literally just breathe, he looked over at me with an obvious disdain. He didn’t speak, though. Not until I lifted my foot to rest against the seat.

“Sit appropriately or I’ll leave you on the side of the road,” he snapped immediately.

I tried to respond with a gasp, but I couldn’t help the laughter that filtered through it. “But Professor, I thought you were trying to save me? You’d really throw me out there in the cold?”

“First of all,” he started, and I knew I’d already lost, “It is 75 degrees outside, so it’s hardly cold.”

“I don’t know, Professor... in this dress?” I slurred, drawing his attention back to me quickly by parting my legs.

He was entranced by the fabric inching up for approximately five seconds before he snapped back to reality with a loud, “Second, there is no saving girls like you.”

I suppose I had just proven his point.

“So why are you taking me home, then?”

Spencer didn’t need to think about it for even a second. He’d anticipated the question and probably determined his answer from the moment he’d realized that I’d followed him out of the bar.

“I said there was no saving you,” he explained in a low tone, “That doesn’t mean you don’t have a use.”

The words caused a shiver to flow through me that felt like lightning. My hand slid over to his as it rested on the gearshift. He didn’t even flinch at the touch, and actually loosened his hand just a little.

Enough for me to lift it and guide it over the expanse of my thigh. He didn’t resist when it passed underneath the spandex and inched closer to lace that only barely kept me modest.

“You wanna use me, Professor?” I purred.

Again, he had been waiting for the question. With just one quick glance, he flashed me a smirk that was perfectly timed to his nails digging into my skin. My back arched immediately in response, my hips bucking in the seat to try and draw him closer.

Spencer just laughed and removed his hand like he’d proven his point.

“You are so fucking pathetic.”

But I had my own point that deserved to be recognized by a brilliant mind like his.

“What does that make you then?”

The car came to a sudden stop, which wouldn’t have been nearly as surprising if I’d been paying any attention to our surroundings rather than watching his knuckles turn white from their grip around the steering wheel.

We’d arrived at the dorm, but I wasn’t ready for the night to be over yet, and I knew he wasn’t, either. Before he could come up with any clever little quip or witty insult, I unbuckled my seatbelt and leaned close enough to him that he would be able to smell the ethanol on my tongue.

“You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

His response was predictable, albeit a bit boring.

“Get out.”

I couldn’t have expected him to be a gentleman for long, I figured. So, instead of waiting or demanding he open the door for me, I threw my own door open. As he’d described, the night was calm and comfortable. Nothing at all like the way it felt when he looked at me.

I’d barely noticed he’d gotten out of the car himself until he was beside me. He didn’t stay there for long, either. His hand caught my jaw and his body pinned me against the side of his car with enough force to make me dizzy.

“You keep your mouth shut until we are in that room, do you understand me?”

For the umpteenth time that night, I was speechless. I gave a dumb nod that felt impossible against the strength of his hand. One might expect that he’d be gentler with my hand, but he wasn’t. He held my fingers so tightly that they were throbbing by the time we got to my room.

I thought I’d been impatient with myself as I struggled with the lock, but Spencer’s temper was another beast entirely. The second the door clicked shut, he was on me like an animal starved.

He tasted sweeter than I’d expected, but it was hard to focus on any thought for too long. His mouth’s insistence on claiming as much of me as it could was nothing compared to his hands. I was almost surprised he hadn’t torn straight through my clothing.

“You’re a bit impatient for a man who said he’d never ever fuck me,” I said with a chuckle the moment he’d freed my lips.

I almost regretted it, considering it made him stop. But I knew it wouldn’t last long.

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I was right.

I took my sweet time removing my dress, much to his annoyance. That only made me want to go slower, to draw out that frustrated look and the ache he must’ve felt from the tent in his pants. I wanted him to want me so badly it hurt.

With my undergarments still on, I took to working the buttons and buckles he wore, instead. He watched me with a shocking amount of desire at the domesticity of it all, and I tried not to let it get to my head. The second I’d stripped him of everything but his own final layer, I pushed him away from me and onto the bed.

I left mine on as well when I followed him onto the bed. I straddled the man I’d been on my knees for earlier and reveled in the feeling of the pure, unadulterated power that I possessed. Before I could kiss him again, though, he stopped me with a few pointed words.

“I thought I told you to take off your clothes.”

“I’m bad at following directions,” I whispered against his lips just before I diverted them entirely. I dropped them to his throat, where I made sure to leave my mark in pink, red, and purple patches.

He didn’t stop me, though. In fact, he laughed at the way my mouth seemed stuck to him.

“Trust me, I’m aware,” he hummed. The vibrations tickled my lips and led me back to his, just as he’d probably planned.

I wasn’t so lost in the kiss anymore, and my hand haphazardly reached into my bedside table until I finally got ahold of the crinkling foil. No sooner than I’d pulled the condom out had Spencer firmly tugged on a small lace strap holding my underwear together.

The sound of snapping fabric was enough to cause me to separate our lips, and I groaned in annoyance as I tried to maneuver to get the rest of the damned fabric off.

“Are you really that desperate?” I asked during the struggle, to which he flashed me a proud, devilish smirk as he answered, “I guess we deserve each other.”

In case his words hadn’t been enough to set off the butterflies and lust raging through me, he paired them with a hand sliding surely up my inner thigh. I heard him chuckle as my eyes fluttered shut, but he never stopped. Now that he was granted access, he was quick to take advantage of that.

One lithe finger slipped between the folds, gathering the wetness he’d caused over the last half hour. He teased me for a few seconds with similarly tantalizing, barely-there motions until even he’d heard enough of my whining to actually do something about it. He entered me slowly at first and removed it at an even slower speed.

I’d nearly forgotten about the condom in my fist against the sheets, too busy chasing his fingers with my hips.

“Fuck, that feels good,” I sighed, finally opening my eyes only to shut them again when I was immediately overwhelmed by the sight of him. “Fuck, Professor.”

He laughed again, although this time there was a blatant delight and fondness in it. Spencer continued his ministrations like there was nothing else in the world that mattered more than keeping me shaking and panting above him. But his other hand traced my jaw gently. It flowed down my arm and a single fingertip settled over my fist where the condom remained unopened.

From there, he patted the back of my hand carefully with a click of his tongue.

“Look at that. Little miss whore can’t even focus on the task at hand.”

“I’m greedy,” I groaned, only getting louder in my objections when he removed his hand in favor of helping me remove his final layer of clothing.

“Again, I am aware of your nature.”

It was my turn to giggle when I finally saw his erection spring free from his briefs. I was only patient enough to allow him to kick off the garment before both of my hands flew to hold him. I abandoned the condom for the time being, opting instead to feel the silky skin I’d fought so hard to have access to. The soft grunt he returned was enough like praise to urge me on.

I scooted closer, pressing myself against him for just a second before I slurred, “I wan’ it.”

“Then do your job,” was his immediate reply, given through clenched teeth and with blunt fingernails back in their place pressed firmly into my hips. “Earn it, you fucking brat.”

He didn’t need to tell me twice. I took my hand back, filling my palm with spit before rubbing it against the tip of his dick. Spencer threw his head back, filling the room with the most beautiful sound of breathy, rolling moans. I watched the way his stomach tensed, and the aching between my legs got progressively more difficult to ignore.

As soon as he felt my heat pressing against the shaft, he looked up at me again. I think he liked whatever it was he saw in my half-delirious, lustful stare. I continued to rock against him while my thumb clumsily traced the head of his cock.

“I want it,” I repeated more clearly then, “I want it inside of me, please. I want you so bad, Professor.”

“Then do it. I’m not stopping you,” he strained. It hardly sounded like an order. It was more like a beg.

He held up the poor, ignored foil wrapper between two fingers. Relief washed over him as he watched me tear it open between my teeth. We were so close to finally getting what we wanted, but I still had to take my time. Just to be a brat, as he’d so kindly called me. Just to drag it out longer, to be with him longer.

Spencer didn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, he looked delighted with the show I’d been putting on for him. The attention he paid me even started to get to me, and my hands began to shake as I began to roll the latex over him.

He only made it worse when I did finally position myself above him. He settled into his place with his hands beneath his head and a proud smile on his cheeks. He’d hardly look affected when I started to sink down on him, but I was struggling to not lose all remaining composure.

“Don’t act so modest,” he teased, “I know this isn’t your first time.”

I wanted to respond with a similarly snarky comment, but I couldn’t. The farther down onto him I fell, the harder it was to make any noise at all. The noises I could make were just pathetic whimpers and gasps that fed into his already enormous ego.

Spencer laughed again, removing his hands from behind his head and beginning to roam my body. That was the way he showed me just how much it really affected him. He could keep a straight face, but his grip on my hips was ruthless, and his words were strained.

“Awww. You’re not so scary when you’re sitting on my cock,” he cooed. “You’re almost even cute.”

My hips rolled in response to the praise, and I was rewarded with a deep, low groan from the man beneath me. Once I was finally accustomed to the size of him inside of me, I started to move. My motions were still stuttered and inconsistent, but I pressed on all the same.

I hated the way my legs were already shaking less than a minute in. It wasn’t even because I was tired — it was something about the way he looked at me like he was ready to devour me.

I would have let him, too. In so many ways, I’d given more of myself to that damned narcissistic professor than I’d ever planned. I’d done it so quickly. All it took was one thrust, two hands on my hips pulling me down to take him in entirely, and I collapsed onto him.

Spencer responded differently than I’d anticipated. Rather than fully mocking the display of weakness, he gently guided me back up to my previous position. It was probably just selfish, I reminded myself. The desire to see my breasts bounce and my stomach tense.

I found my rhythm again, slamming down onto him with everything I could considering the alcohol still flowing through me. It heightened every sense I felt, and every few seconds, I would catch those coffee colored eyes staring back at me and urging me on.

As if on cue, Spencer’s voice filled my room at the same time his hand cradled my face.

“That’s it,” he praised. His next words, however, were anything but kind. With that wicked smile and a harsher grip, he chuckled, “Show me how badly you want to pass.”

My legs moved harder and faster before I even ordered them to; my whole body was working off instincts. I craved his validation with my everything, and he was finding any and every excuse to dangle that promise in front of me. But he knew I wanted that, too. The thrill of the chase.

That was why he continued, “You won’t, but it’ll be cute watching you give an effort.”

His movements betrayed the nonchalance in his words. With each motion, his hips rolled up to meet mine. We moved together in the way the waves meet the rocky shores - both forever altered by their own unique form of violence.

Spencer continued with sharp words that cut straight through to the broken, competitive parts of me.

“Is this why you act so stupid all the time? Because you get off on men humiliating you?”

“No,” I answered a little too quickly, “just you.”

Luckily, he met my vulnerability halfway. Although his grip remained ruthless, his voice was soft when he whispered, “I bet you love the praise even more, don’t you? You want me to tell you you’re a good girl?”

Still too fast to reply, I nodded. It wasn’t the only obvious affirmative, considering I had started to move too fast for my lungs to even keep up.

“That you’re my pretty little whore?”

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring in enough air to stop the world from rocking with my movements. I didn’t care; I wanted to be so lost in him that I forgot everything else. The muscles in my stomach were tensing in a new way, bringing me closer and closer to the ledge where I’d hoped I could turn to seafoam with him. Where we could stay forever, lost in the bliss that is the natural rhythm of the vast open blue.

While I was busy thinking such poetic thoughts, I’d missed the signs of his own fast-approaching end. Spencer grabbed me by the hair again, tugging me forward into a haphazard kiss that barely came to be.

“I’m so proud of you,” he gasped, “you make me feel so good with your tight little body.”

“P-Professor...” I tried to speak, but the tremors wrecking my body made the words shake too much to be comprehensible.

That was fine, though. Spencer had more than enough to say for the both of us.

“I love how you tremble. I wonder how much further I could push you.”

“Harder,” I cried, “Please, Professor! Please, fuck me!”

That was all it took for him to seize all control of us. He used all possible force of gravity and his own strength to bring us together again and again. He read my body like one of his many books, and with the same proficiency, as well. He felt as my walls started to flutter around him, and he didn’t once stop.

Not even when he spoke through labored breaths, “How bad have you wanted this? How many times have you laid in bed at night wishing it was me between your legs?”

Since the moment I met you, I thought to myself, I have always wanted to break you.

But it wasn’t him that was shattering into a million pieces in my bed. It was me, stuck wordless and practically drooling. Completely in his control, and never wanting him to give it back. He knew it, too. He saw the submission and he basked in the glory of me, finally giving him everything he wanted.

“Now I’m here and you’re a helpless, filthy mess. But that’s okay,” he reassured me just as I started to feel the world again. “I know how use stupid sluts like you.”

With one final thrust, one more cry from myself and a string of curses from the man below me, I watched the bliss wash over him. My eyes were clear and captivated; the endorphins coursing through my veins and making me fall even harder from the brink of sanity.

He was so beautiful. So vulnerable, guileless, and free. Honeyed eyes were filled with nothing but appreciation and praise, and his lips parted just enough to whisper mangled versions of my name over and over like some sort of prayer.

When he stopped holding me up, I fell onto him. While the lack of structural integrity had gone almost unnoticed by me,despite landing on what was essentially a human made only of bones, Spencer was less understanding.

“You’re heavy.”

“And you’re huge. This bed is small as fuck,” I scoffed back.

“Fine,” was all he replied. But hidden within that one little syllable, I detected the faintest hint of something else. Something not entirely unlike submission.

Something almost sort of like fondness.

Something that some might call falling in love.

The next morning was the most beautiful sort of nightmare. I woke up before the man — my Professor — draped on top of me, and I wondered if it would be worth it to try to wake him. My arm was numb, and my head was pounding, but he looked so goddamn cute with his lips half-pouted in his sleep.

I’d almost wanted to keep him there longer, even at risk of my own discomfort. I took in the innocence and comfort he clearly found in my bed, and my stupid sentimental heart even had the audacity to pitter-pat before it came to its senses again.

Its timing, however, was poor. Unfortunate and disastrous.

Spencer’s eyes opened at the same time I’d realized that I was staring, and he immediately took note of the tender longing I’d managed to convey while hungover and apparently still blissed out from what was definitely the best lay of my life.

His feelings on the night, however, were summed up very easily. In just two simple sounds.

“Ah, fuck.”

“Good morning to you, too, asshole,” I groaned before shoving him off of his position on top of me.

But, keeping on trend, Spencer took all of the covers with him as he toppled gracelessly off of my bed.

Then, cold and markedly less comfortable than before, I shouted loud enough to hurt my own head, “Oh my god, you ruin everything!”

“You’re such a brat,” I heard him grumble from the floor.

“Yeah? Do something about it, then.”

“Give me five minutes.”

I reached down to take the blanket from him but abandoned the effort when I realized just how heavy a bag of bones could be. Instead, I just stayed hanging off the side of my bed until my Professor finally managed to stand.

He had been kind enough to toss the covers back over me, but the rest of the morning was spent in an awkward, tense silence. I sat with the blanket wrapped around me, watching him wordlessly gather his things and make himself look as presentable as possible in a desk mirror and while covered in hickeys.

When it was time to say goodbye, his demeanor shifted for the first time that morning. A strong undercurrent of something I’d willfully misconstrue as regret ran beneath the apathy. In retrospect, ‘fear’ was a better descriptor.

“I’m not a snitch,” I informed him as he stood in front of me at his full height.

“I know,” he said, blowing just enough air out of his nose as he smiled for me to categorize it as a laugh. “You wouldn’t tell anyone because if you do, this will never happen again.”

Gentle, practiced fingertips traced over my jaw as a smile finally appeared on my own face to match his.

“That’s what you said last night,” I correctly pointed out.

I thought he would have a clever reply — something to win, something to shut me up for good.

In a way, I guess he did.

His lips met mine with just enough force to knock the breath from me, but still tenderly enough to lend me his in return. Spencer kissed me unlike the night before. There was no battle of dominance. There was no fear or uncertainty. There was only that strange, gut-wrenching feeling that I’d spotted in his eyes just before we turned to foam together.

“You’re not scary anymore,” he whispered before placing another chaste kiss on my forehead.

I rolled my eyes, hoping that he wouldn’t notice the way my throat closed around the half-hearted scoff that followed.

“Goodbye, sweetheart,” he called while halfway through the door.

And I wondered to myself how it could have been possible to have already missed him as much as I did then.

There are times in every girl’s life where she doubts herself. Those times had been fewer and further between as I’d gotten older. But that day, sitting in Professor’s Reid’s class, I realized that I might have gone too far this time.

Although I found the tie – Spencer’s tie – wrapped loosely around my neck to be a cute, albeit odd accessory, he decidedly did not appreciate the bold statement piece. Maybe he just had something against women wearing traditionally masculine clothing. But realistically, I knew he was probably just jealous that his clothes looked better on me.

Throughout the class, his eyes would settle on me with every excuse. He returned to me, with a fire burning through him that was likely to burn down the whole building if given enough time and oxygen. I could feel how badly he’d wanted to scorch me, to light the offending fabric aflame and see how I choked on the smoke.

He said nothing, though. He would just pause and smirk whenever our eyes would meet. Then, he would let them wander over what he could see of my body. His memory would make up the rest. I could almost see those images myself, just by the way he cleared his throat like that would stop everyone from noticing just how red he’d gotten.

Spencer remained cordial as we exited the room together. He walked beside me without a word. Until I spoke, that is.

“Good morning, Professor.”

“We’re definitely going to talk about this,” he answered immediately. He’d just been waiting for the opportunity.

But I had also been waiting for one.

“Professor, please!” I balked before whispering, “not with all these people around!”

The other people in the elevator seemed completely unfazed by the supposed scandal. I figured Spencer might be a little more upset, or at least unimpressed by my confidence in my sarcasm abilities. But instead, he just smiled as the cabin started to move.

“I happen to have office hours right now,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Maybe I’ll meet you there.”

“Maybe?”

“I have a pretty busy schedule…” I sighed.

When the elevator doors opened and the people began to exit, I leaned over to the man beside me, only to find that he was also inching closer. So, when I did finally manage to finish my sentence, our faces were practically touching.

“I might have more pressing concerns.”

Spencer didn’t answer, but his eyes lit with a familiar fire that made my cheeks burn and the oxygen evade me in favor of feeding into the flames. As soon as the doors closed again, though, the smoke of his lust drowned out all other thoughts.

With no one left to bear witness, myprofessor slammed me hard against the wall of the elevator. But even still, that impact was nothing compared to the way his mouth hit mine. He seemed hellbent on crushing me to the point of bruising; of writing his name on every inch of me until the impression stayed.

“Come with me,” he said breathlessly, “… Please.”

He begged. A single word powerful enough to shatter the illusion that this meant nothing.

“Oh my god!” I shouted as my hands firmly shoved him away from me, “Shut up — You like me?!”

“What?!” he said, forgetting to scoff until a few seconds had passed. Needless to say, I wasn’t convinced.

“You do!” I screeched with a shudder. “What the fu— How can you like me?!”

And Spencer, consistent in his inability to deceive, gave the worst denial known to man.

“I don’t kno—I mean, I don’t! That’s ridiculous!”

It earned him a firm, but still playful punch in the shoulder, which he had the audacity to pretend hurt him.

“I can’t believe you, Professor!”

I sounded angry, and in many ways, I was. But when I stepped off of the elevator, I took the turn towards his office. I beat him there, too, and I didn’t hesitate to throw the door open. The man behind me had built up enough inertia that when he barreled into the room, he both slammed the door and ran me into his desk.

Before I fell too far, though, he caught me by a handful of his silk tie.

“You are infuriating,” he seethed with something other than anger.

“Yeah? Kiss me, then,” I dared.

And then he actually almost did it. Almost. He was stopped by my palm flat over his mouth, clumsily shoving him to the side as I shouted, “You aren’t supposed to actually do it!”

But to my surprise, and my pleasure, Spencer was quick on his feet. His hands found my hips the same way they had that wonderful night, and he used that hold to hoist me up onto the edge of his desk. From there, he felt comfortable pushing the fabric up my thighs.

“Why not?” he teased with his lips finding my neck just as quickly, “I happen to know for a fact that you’re good at it.”

Realizing how the tides had shifted, and that the carnal desire we’d harbored between us had returned in full force, I gave in to him once again. I spread my legs to make room for him to step between them, and he eagerly accepted the proximity.

“This I’m cool with,” I sighed.

“Yeah. I know,” Spencer chuckled as he pulled a condom out of what appeared to be thin air, considering I couldn’t focus on anything other than the way his lips felt against my skin.

While he worked to tear the wrapper open, my hands were busy undoing his slacks. Just as we’d been before, we remained perfectly in tandem. I helped him work the rubber over his erection and guided him to me without an ounce of hesitation. Likewise, he didn’t wait before pushing into me as far as he could before the tense muscles stopped him.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Any other praise was kept to himself, but I felt it. I could feel the way he cherished every spasm, every atom of my being that accepted him. Inch by inch, he worked himself to the hilt inside of me.

Once I’d become accustomed to his size again, I felt a surge of power. The realization that the man currently between my legs was completely enamored with me; that he had begged me to come grant him an audience.

So, wielding that power, I asked, “Still sure you want to fail me?”

As expected, my professor scoffed. Then, seconds later, he withdrew so that he could slam into me again with what I’d probably poorly perceived to be his full force.

“Not a chance in hell you’re passing now, sweetheart,” he groaned before pulling me forward to the edge. He used the new angle to ensure he could bottom out inside of me with each ruthless thrust. “Not if it means I can bend you over my desk for another semester.”

“Selfish prick,” I muttered back. I’d wanted him to hear it but was still surprised when he answered.

“Awww, are you not enjoying yourself? Am I not being mean enough?”

I’d almost answered yes, but his hand was too fast. It had rooted into my hair and tugged me backwards before my tongue could form a single word.

“Because I can be cruel if you want me to,” he said like a promise. That assurance was paired with his hips hitting mine with bruising force, and his other hand pulling my legs further apart to accommodate him.

He was so enraptured by the sight of him disappearing inside of me that it made honest to god butterflies swarm in my stomach. I could feel his gaze all over me, his mind working at its maximum capacity to ensure that he captured every single detail about how we existed in that moment.

I couldn’t be blamed for getting caught up in the moment. With our skin slapping together and the smell of sex filling the antiquated office. My breath was practically nonexistent, but I still managed a loud, desperate moan.

If I’d thought Spencer’s hands were quick before, I didn’t know what to call his speed then. He clamped his hand over my mouth so fast that it might as well have been a slap with the sting it caused.

His words were similarly intense.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled.

There was no reason for that phrase to affect me the way it had. With any other man, I would’ve taken it as a challenge. But with Spencer, all I could do was let out staccato whimpers as my legs tried to close around him. He didn’t let them.

He fought the tension and increased his pace and force. While I fell into that sea foam space again, Spencer’s confidence soared.

“Fuck, yes,” he panted when my orgasm finally washed over the both of us.

I kept my eyes open for as long as I could, hoping my imperfect memory would capture even just half as much as his had. The jealousy and spite kept me from letting go of that feeling until Spencer’s staggered thrusts came to a stop at my deepest point.

Until he pulled on my hair hard enough to elicit a yelp, and he answered it with one final order.

“Take it, you fucking brat,” he said with an eerie sense of calm. “You were made for this.”

But I swore I heard, You were made for me.

When it was over, though, he was quick to pull away. He’d removed, tied, and tossed the evidence into the bin before I had so much as fixed my underwear, much less tried to stand.

Spencer offered me his hand, and I suddenly found myself in that same position as before — ready to climb into his car to prove to him how badly he’d wanted me, too.

But there was no challenge in the way he helped me to my feet, the same as there was none when he’d kissed me goodbye. And when I stumbled forward on shaky legs, he caught me with arms that seemed to fit perfectly around me.

“For fuck’s sake, Professor,” I laughed, trying to still that pesky pitter-patting of a lovesick heart, “You actually caught me?”

“Would you rather I let you fall?” he asked.

“Kind of.”

“Well, I’m not going to.”

I wanted to fight him. I should have fought him. But he saw the hearts in my eyes and felt the way my muscles gave in to him in an entirely different way.

“Ugh,” I whined when he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

Not gonna let me fall, huh?

“Too late."

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer reid insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #prof spencer reid #professor spencer reid

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mrvlbimbo · 2 years

Text

Justice: chapter four

Vigilante x reader

Masterlist here

I’m gonna need a lighter, some dental floss, a needle, something metal, and a bottle of five hour energy

On the ride back to the group’s hideout, everyone was keeping an eye on Nightwatch. She was strong but no one could survive long if they kept losing blood at such a rapid rate. Vigilante held her hand tightly, squeezing it whenever she seemed like she was losing focus.

A pair of sunglasses were perched on her nose, occasionally they slid down and Vigilante put them back up for her. Although he and Peacemaker already knew her identity they were not sure if she wanted to share it with anyone else.

Her eyes were glazed over and she only offered one word answers and grunts of pain when they tried to talk to her. Desperate for reassurance she was going to be ok, Vigilante took her face in his hands and forced her to meet his eyes. “Hey. You’re gonna be ok, right?” he pleaded, his voice and hands shaking as he spoke.

Her blurry vision and both of their eye pieces in the way meant they were not really looking into each other's eyes. Although her slightly delirious mind was able to imagine the man under the mask. Thinking of how scared he must be, she was able to muster up a response. “Yeah, I’m gonna be alright,” she replied, placing her hand on his and leaning into the touch.

Soon enough they were at the base of operations and they all rushed inside. She had to be carried by Vigilante, which is something that would hurt her pride if she was functioning in her right mind. She let out a weak whimper when he shifted her in his arms before setting her down on the couch in the back room. “Get me a lighter, some dental floss, a needle, something metal, and a bottle of five hour energy,” she commanded, a bit of her senses coming back once she realized the dire state of her health.

Vigilante refused to leave her side and instead barked her orders down the hall, his voice cracking slightly at the stress. When he looked back to her she was sitting up with an intense expression on her face.

Her first step was to gulp down the five hour energy as a last resort to keep herself conscious for a little while longer. Then she ripped off the top of her outlift, leaving her in a black tank top. She ordered Vigilante to use the lighter to warm up the metal spoon he had brought as she ripped off pieces of fabric to tie around the cuts on her arms.

Once that was over with, she took the burning hot spoon and pressed it into the skin of her abdomen and cauterized the wound there. She did the same thing to the cut on her leg and the one on the side of her ribs.

She ripped off her sunglasses to get a better view of the slashes on her arms as she removed the makeshift bandages from them so she could start stitching. “Woah woah woah! Let me help you with that,” he offered, tired of watching her put herself through that much pain.

She laid back with a grumpy sigh and handed him the tools. He took off the mask and rifled around in his pockets until he found a pair of glasses. He quickly got to work stitching up the lesser cuts. But then he had to handle the ones she had cauterized earlier. She cringed slightly as he started threading the needle through the red blistered skin.

Rather than thinking about the pain, she took the time to admire him in the light of the room. His eyes were a bright green color and he had sharp features. His hair was a mess of dark brown curls that kept falling into his eyes.

Most people squeeze someone’s hand when they’re getting stitches. But seeing as the only other person in the room was using both of his hands, that was not an option. In an instinctual move, she grabbed a hold of his hair instead. “Ouch,” he muttered, a slight groan escaping his lips as well. He prayed she didn’t hear it or he’d never live it down.

She grumbled out an apology, only tightening her grip as he continued the stitches. When he got to the last cut his face was flushed and his patience had worn thin. “That’s very distracting,” he commented, instantly feeling her move her hand. The loss of contact was like having the air knocked out of his lungs, he tried to ignore the feeling as he finished the last few stitches.

Once all the hard stuff was out of the way, her mood perked up a bit. She patted the couch next to her and Vigilante sat down next to her. She giggled and turned her body towards him. “So… V, you like having your hair pulled?” she teased, followed by more giggles.

He wouldn’t hold it against her because she was definitely impaired due to all the blood loss and what not, but her comment hit him like a semi truck of embarrassment. “I…well…uhm…” He tried to come up with an answer but his mind was going blank.

“No shame in the game, we all have our thing,” she assured him. She gave him a pat on the shoulder, the mischievous smile on her face still present.

He rolled his eyes and ignored her teasing. Within minutes she was out like a light, her head falling against his shoulder. He stayed awake to make sure she was ok and her steady breaths brushing his neck let him know she was just sleeping.

A/N: heyyyyyy everyone <3 hope ur all having a good day. Just want to warn u the next chapter or the chapter after that (depending on how I split them up) might have some spice :0

#vigilante peacemaker #vigilante x reader #vigilante #peacemaker #adrian chase #chris smith #christopher smith

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sixeyesgojo · 3 years

Text

soon-to-be father

Summary: In which Gojo proclaims that he will be a father soon.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x female reader

Word count: 993

Content warning: spoiler warning (reference to Volume 0 - mentions of Yuta and his OPness), slight suggestive themes but not too bad

A/N: Idk, I was bored at 3am. Didn’t expect this to become this long.... Also, I don’t exactly remember if Yaga already had a kid or if I just made that up in my head (I do know that he is a divorcee though), so let’s just pretend he has a kid in this one lol

Filing written reports about curse incidents to submit to the elders ruling the jujutsu world was a tedious task. Nonetheless, it had to be done by every jujutsu sorcerer working for Jujutsu Tech.

Returning to the office with a newly filled cup of coffee in your hand, you sat down after putting your warm beverage on the desk. Work was waiting for you, so naturally you got back to writing these reports as soon as possible. You were determined to finish all those reports. Not gonna work overtime today, you thought while writing away your findings about recent curse activity.

Not much time passed after someone burst into the room loudly. You didn’t even need to confirm with your eyes – it could only be that person.

“State your business, Satoru. I got work to do, unlike you”, you shot at him.

“Woah, so rude! I am wounded,” the man exclaimed and clutched his chest as if he was in pain. “I came here to tell you the good news!”

The tall man settled down on the couch in the office.

“Guess who is going to be a father soon?” Satoru’s voice rang across the room.

“Is it principal Yaga again?” you asked without looking up from your papers once. “Nope, nope, nopeeeeee,” being the obnoxious person he could be, Satoru made sure to pop the ‘p’ of the last one particularly loud. “You are absolutely wrong on this one. Though I suppose I can understand where you are coming from,” he added, waving his hand.

“Guess again, guess again,” he demanded excitedly.

Finally, you shifted your gaze from your lame reports onto the white-haired sorcerer.

“It’s definitely not Nanami,” you stated matter-of-factly as you made your way to him to join him on the couch – the idea of working flew out of the window. You knew how your colleague viewed marriage and romantic commitments as jujutsu sorcerer. Who else could it be? There weren’t many male people involved in the jujutsu world with a connection to you or Satoru-

“I swear, Satoru, if you were going to tell me some higher-up will be father, then I will have you know that I am not interested in this information in the slightest.”

You pulled a grimace and made a gagging noise.

“No, no. Literally ew,” he suppressed a gag as well, “I may have a rotten personality – which you love, I just know – but I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m not that much of an ass.”

“Gosh, Satoru, just spill it already. I can practically see your tail wagging, begging me to ask,” you sighed. Now even you were curious.

If Satoru hadn’t worn a blindfold, there would have been a bright glint from his cerulean eyes. A million-dollar-smile spread on his face, pride emanating from his body.

“It’s me! I am going to be a papa!” He clapped enthusiastically.

Your jaw dropped. Wait what?

“Hold up, wait. What did you just say?!” you burst out.

“I said what I said!” he exclaimed. Was it possible for a grin to be even wider?

“Enlighten my confusion? When did that happen? Did I miss something, like something super important you forgot to tell me?” you asked, bewildered.

“Oh, you didn’t miss anything at all, sweetheart,” the man in front of you replied oh-so-casually, “I’m gonna be a dad and you’ll be the mommy.”

Thousands of emotions flit across your face. The way your level of confusion shot up by a million times clearly amused Satoru to no end. You wanted nothing more than to punch him in the gut if this turned out to be some sort of prank. Mommy?!?!

Nevertheless, you tried to play along: “Too bad I don’t remember consenting to be your girlfriend or anything of the sort.”

A delighted laughter filled the space, “Well, you didn’t exactly turn me down either, just now.”

“If that’s how it’s going to be, I will just say I have no recollection of ever sleeping with you, let alone being pregnant,” you retorted triumphantly.

“Touché.”

“Do you remember Yuta?” he suddenly asked.

“Yeah, like I would forget the precious bean I jokingly called my son, who only narrowly escaped the fate of being executed in his teenager years because his own power was too great and deemed dangerous by the old stick-up-the-ass people we call superiors,” you said flatly.

“Yeah, exactly that Yuta. I am very pleased to tell you that I’m adopting a new one! Meaning you have to help me raise him. Well, technically he will be my student...” Satoru started explaining. “...but you don’t sweat the small stuff,” you finished his sentence. He beamed at you, praising you for how well you knew him and all that stuff.

Well, duh. A new student, huh?

“So explain. What’s the deal with this one?” you asked.

“You see, this boy – his name is Yuji, by the way – is also facing execution because he swallowed a special grade cursed object,” Satoru revealed dramatically.

“Then... if he is facing execution, that means the special grade curse incarnated but you cannot exorcise him on the spot for some reason,” you theorized, putting two and two together, and the man next to you confirmed your theory.

Satoru clarified further, “You hit the nail on the head. The poor boy seems to be the vessel of Ryomen Sukuna. I managed to postpone his execution until he consumes all twenty fingers though. He will be the third first-year student, so you have to help me!”

“The Double-Faced Specter, huh...” you mumbled to yourself, then your gaze was directed at Satoru, “to me, it sounds like you’re being troublesome again, you ass.”

“Oh please, I know you love ‘troublesome’,” he teased you.

“Yeah, I do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t put up with your sorry ass.”

“Ouch. Will you raise our son with me, though?”

“Oh hell, yeah. Count me in.”

Yeah, work could wait.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #dad!gojo #itadori yuji #okkotsu yuuta #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #gojo being annoying #i wanna adopt yuji as well #papa!gojo

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spice-chan · 3 years

Text

Ethereal

Yan!Dragon King!Bakugou Katsuki x Water Nymph!f!reader

The water nymphs send an unusual peace offering this year...

Warnings: Reader sent as a peace offering so feelings of objectification are present. Yandere themes. Possessiveness. Yandere bakugou but only becomes outwardly yandere towards the end. Death (killing). Not too descriptive about wounds though, although they are mentioned (not inflicted on reader). Bakugou is a bit of a douchebag at the start.

wordcount: 4.5 k

tags: @angie-1306 (your ask got deleted but thank god you werent on anon) @axther @reddriot

A bundled-up body was dropped under his throne, the body writhing and trying to get muffled screams to be heard.

“My king, the water nymphs made a peace offering. She was dropped off in front of the castle entrance.”

Bakugou’s rich red eyes calculatedly glanced down, breath hitching for a second at the beauty of the roped female—a water nymph. An offering to him. His eyes made contact with yours, seeing the clear defiance and disdain in them, but he knows this look, behind made walls of resistance and will of steel is a petrified woman afraid of her fate. How unfortunate for you. Your eyes were wide and glassy, cute in their attempt at conveying anger, brows furrowed in a glare that merely made Bakugou smirk in amusement. Your mouth, even with the rope muffling every sound you made, clearly showcased a pair of sweet and kissable lips.

The nymphs who sacrificed you did you no favour as well, for they left you scantily dressed, leaving you exposed to the hungry eyes of dragons around you, irking Bakugou slightly that others are looking at his prize.

He left his throne, languidly walking up to you before crouching down to inspect you, to see what’s so special about you. The water nymphs never usually offered one of their own in their attempt at maintaining neutral peace. This ritual which they adopted since ancient times became nothing more than a nicety, they usually offered rare fish, nuts, never a full-fledged nymph, and an attractive one at that. Perhaps the fact that Bakugou, the most renowned dragon shifter finally claimed the throne made them feel unsettled. For his savage and bloodthirsty need to be the absolute best was second to none.

His calloused palms took a hold of your face, ignoring your attempts at deflecting his hold as his massive palm dwarfed your face and made it plenty clear he can easily crush you. He inspected your face from different angles, seeing nothing extraordinary. He took this opportunity to feel up your soft skin which had been tempting him ever since he noticed you laying helplessly on the floor. He then confirmed the validity of the rumours that claimed water nymphs had skin supple and silky as water. It felt like he was running his finger across the surface of a ripple, a mere dip of his finger could breach the surface.

Heh, you’re kinda pretty. So very different from draconian women, who had thick builds paired with excellent survival skills and shifting abilities, but you...he bets it was so easy to overpower you and wrap you up nicely for him to unpack his gift.

He lifts you, his muscles bulging and tensing, proving that carrying you was not a struggle to him in the slightest.

He ignores your useless thrashing, kicking and resisting like a wild bird held in a tyrant's hand. Its wings contained and nails not doing any damage, freedom seeming further and further away. He walks with you on his shoulders, his massive, hulking shoulders.

Soon enough, the rowdy chatter of the men becomes scarce, and their figures even more so, making you double your efforts in trying to escape the tyrant lumping you on his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

“Tsk, keep bein’ a brat and I’ll have to tie your shitty hands.” He turned his head to look at you as he said this, cementing his statement with a fiery glare that only infuriated you further.

He ignored any protest you made after that, walking with you and entering a wing that looked to be heaven-sent from the sheer luxury, gold highlights emphasized in every corner, treasures and artefacts littered around the corridor in a painfully tidy and organised to the very centimetre, clearly they got shined twice a day. However, the further he ventured, the more the previous shine lost its glory, it appeared clean, however, the stark contrast to the speckless shine from before was clear.

Bakugou stopped in front of the grandest door, he twisted the golden doorknob, finally appreciating your quietness. You couldn’t help it, you weren’t particularly rich back home, so to see this reincarnation of decadence really has your eyes glassing, bright in some semblance of joy, you forgot your situation for a second.

You were rudely reminded when you were dumped down on a hard surface.

“OUCH, YOU ASSHOLE.”

When you looked down, however, every profanity disappeared from your tongue as it twisted in awe. You were thrown on a pile of fucking treasure. A huge, mountainous pile of glittering gold and brandished silver, rubies, and every single gem one could imagine.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, scowling at how much he liked the view of you on top of his hoard. He smirked, feeling prideful and accomplished until he noticed that the walls of fury and fire you built up ever since he saw broke in the worst way possible. Your face was scrunched, it felt like your cheeks were lit aflame in humiliation as tears streaked down your adorable face.

Bakugou felt like the biggest douchebag to walk the earth.

You brought your knees closer and hid your face behind them, body shaking as you sobbed. Your tribe sent you as a peace offering, not caring for the slightest about your well being and fate, and now you're stuck here with a brute of a king who has no qualms with treating you like a glorified piece of jewellery. You didn’t want him to see this side of you this soon, you didn’t want him to see how petrified you are, how weak and defenceless you are compared to him. You wanted to rivers of anguish gushing from your eyes to stop, but they wouldn’t.

“Hey…” he tried to console you. It was a poor attempt from an unpractised dragon.

You tried to speak, navigate around that lump in your throat to shout at him, tell him to leave you alone, but your voice failed you just like everything tends to.

You felt him clumsily try to lift your head in a gesture that fell between a forceful demand and a soothing touch. What is up with him now?

You relented and showed him your puffy eyes, glistening eyes, looking at him with trembling lips.

“Tch, stop crying! You—you’ll get snot and tears all over my hoard.”

It was the wrong thing to say, because a fresh batch of tears came, staining the apples of your cheeks.

“Fuck—no. I didn’t mean that.” Your sniffling was reduced to mere hiccups, break down halting at the sight of the most feared man on the earth, the legendary dragon king bakugou, most hardened warrior and skilled shifter, attempting to apologise.

“Shit—I wouldn’t have to be so rough if I knew it bothered you this much.” He pouted, cheeks turning a shade of red that seems almost adorable, turning away from you to scowl at the floor.

Fuck, his mother taught him better, yet the sight of you made him forget any semblance of manners, eager to get his hands on you and away from the prying eyes of people to who you didn’t belong.

An innate sense of possessiveness engulfed him, one that can only be appeased with you sitting on the one place most intimate and guarded by him: his hoard.

But, he’ll tone it down until he gets you more pliant and accepting.

“Stay where you are.” He simply commanded before walking off.

You stayed there, mind urging you to run away, a foolish choice your pride keeps urging you to make. Runaway, in a castle heavily guarded, without having the slightest clue how to get to the exit.

Yeah, bad idea. You’re sure you aren’t welcome back ‘home’ anyway. The thought feels like a sharp dagger slicing your heart, taking its time carving the pain into you.

Soon enough, Bakugou is back, trying to tone down his intimidating aura, but to no avail, for he noticed you shrinking at the sight of his hulking figure. It stung him a little, making his frown a little tighter.

“Come with me,” he said curtly, then walked swiftly out, his cape swishing behind him, making you scramble to follow him, struggling to keep up with his fast steps, frustration slowly rising like bile up your throat and making it harder to stay silent and compliant.

He took you out of the castle, ignoring the curious looks to the best of his ability, but before he could step a foot outside the gate, he grits his teeth in anger and took off his cape. He bundled you in it and lifted you, once again, like a sack of potatoes. But you were too busy feeling like you were lit on fire as you realised that you were walking around in the outfit you were donned in or lack thereof. You buried your face in the fabric, unintentionally making a sound that’s caught between a groan and a whimper.

He walked behind the castle, climbing places with you on his back until he got to where he needed to be

When you arrived, however, you are almost glad you didn’t voice your woos. The sight before you was breathtaking, so much so that your previous plights evaporated even if for a minute.

The scenery was breathtaking, it was a cave, and in the corner, if it was a treasure pile, except merely saying it's a pile was an understatement as it was a mountain in its own right. The hoard you saw back at the castle was incomparable. But that’s not what truly captured you. As he led you further in, you realised the true purpose of this journey.

There was a medium-sized pool, wide enough to fit comfortably in the cave without hogging up all the space, but deep enough that even Bakugou with his stature could enjoy a swim in it. It was clear too, so clear you felt like you could dip your leg in it and see through your very own flesh, that it would make your skin translucent. It was a shade of blue one could only dream of seeing, and after doing so would live their life content.

Perhaps you were biased, seeing that it’s in your very nature as a water nymph to be needing close contact with water, and to be enamoured with it.

All rationale left you though, needing for the water to cleanse you of all your stress and pain, and so bakugou’s cape slipped off your shoulders and hit the floor, your figure leaving it behind as you approached the water and slipped inside. You felt a rush of dopamine override all the negativity inside of you, feeling the water hug you, surround you, shield you.

“So it's true, huh?”

You almost forgot he was here, but Bakugou didn’t forget about you, not even for a second. He was watching you, fascination swirling in his pupils as your expression melted to one of near happiness, heart lurching with every cute expression you made, that *he* caused.

“What is?” You replied, turning in the water to face him.

“That water nymphs live such carefree lives because they spend them inside ponds and lakes.”

You scrunch your nose at that, unable to fathom the exact meaning of his words but having an idea. “We don’t live carefree lives. Not all are given that luxury, at least not me.” You said, giving him a once over with a glare to signify that he’s the problem. He’s the root cause of your misery, Bakugou doesn’t know how to feel about that. It’s quite unfortunate really.

He shrugs his shoulders and reverts to his default face, feigning nonchalance.

“Well, it doesn’t seem like much goes on in your ditzy head.”

You felt your face warm, could very well hear the aggressive thrumming of your blood as you gritted your teeth in anger. And you were about to unleash the full force of your fury until you heard wings flapping outside.

You turned your head, trying to take a glance at the disturbance, but your view was shielded by Bakugou, who moved unnaturally fast for someone who made it clear how nothing phases him. And not fast enough for you to think it’s a real threat.

He came back moments later with an attire you regretfully recognized.

No, scratch that, he brought several. Pale, light flowy dresses that are often worn by your people. Light enough that they wouldn’t mind an occasional soak in water.

Your anger dissipated, melting into confusion, then quickly becoming embarrassment as you realised you were comfortably standing in front of him in your underwear.

You should feel happy, but bile rose up your throat, the taste of humiliation clear on your tongue as you realised with distaste that he was indeed right, you did live carefreely. You also realised you won’t be able to live like that ever again, and that very realisation brought tears to your eyes once again.

“Tch, just take one and wear it. I don’t need you crying again.”

Your face fell, and Bakugou felt his heart twinge a little when you responded with silence, looking at your sad face made him feel oddly protective. It’s probably because you were his treasure. Like his hoard right? He always needs his treasure to be kept in optimum conditions.

Having justified that to himself, he didn’t feel as weird now regarding what he was about to do.

While you changed into one of the outfits he got you, he dug through his hoard, knowing exactly what item he wanted to dig out. His fingers slithered through countless gold pieces, shining enough to cure a greedy man’s blindness. He finally found it, a delicate golden chain, but what demands attention is the ruby hanging from it. He brings a thumb to it, rubbing the rock appreciatively, liking the semblance of the colour to his eyes.

You coughed, signaling you you were done, snapping away his wondrous gaze from the necklace.

You looked really pretty in the dress, he’s got to thank Kiri for the speed run to the shops that he did. The light material hugs your skin, looking stretchy, yet form fitting that it hugged your body in a way that made Bakugou jealous.

You looked in your element now, but somehow the awkwardness still lingered in the air as you avoided his gaze.

Bakugo didn’t try to be subtle when checking you out, in his eyes, you were *his* whether or not that’s what he chose so he can at least check what he has right?

Bakugou didn’t pay heed to the slow spiral of his morals, of the things he worked so hard to uphold. His justifications were slowly manifesting into delusions.

He approached you, ignoring the way you tensed when he went behind you, turning around to question him, but he was quickly done. Your eyes caught the glistening red ruby hanging from your neck, the colour rich and deep like red wine. You didn’t hate it, but confusion swirled in your veins at his actions.

“Looks good on you.” The colour looks like my eyes, it reminds me that you’re mine.

Bakugo wasn’t sure why he held off on telling you what’s on his mind, he usually doesn’t hesitate once to tell the truth.

Your wide, glittery eyes stared up at him, trying but failing to hide their awe. The anger and resentment took a backseat to intrigue, so did he pick this out for you because he thought it would look nice on you? How strange of him.

He lifted a calloused finger up, face now cleared and relaxed that he looked pretty, not intimidating, not barbaric, but pretty. He caressed your cheek, smiling slightly when he felt how warm it was. It slipped off his face all too soon when he took the reins back. He squished your cheek, lips once again taking the shape of a sadistic smile.

“You look dumb”

Your features hardened, gaze narrowed in anger and hatred that it made Bakugou surprised. Surprised by how much he hated it, or by the sheer intensity? He didn’t have much time to dwell on his thoughts though, because a dainty hand flew his way and slapped his hand away.

“You-“ you nearly growled in anger, tears once again coating your eyes because of him. “You rude, barbaric, selfish, egoistical “jerk!” You shouted at him. Why were you this angry?

“Just when I think you might be a decent person.” You rub furiously at your eyes, shoulders slouched in disappointment as you disappeared deeper into the cave and out of his sight. You were always so naive and easy to fool.

Bakugou felt the full weight of your words weighing down on him, but he tried to shrug it off. He walked out, silently brooding with his thoughts until a servant came and delivered dinner.

He stood up, walking to you with tje food in his arms, hoping he could butter you up with it. He found you in the deepest part of the cave, face hidden behind your knees, unmoving.

You were sleeping.

He set the food down, bending down to try and confirm his observation, only for a remorse to hit him like a truckload after he saw the semi dried tear tracks. He didn’t have to be that mean to you. Maybe his dragon subjects can handle it because they have thicker skin, naturally, and they’re used to him. But you were just thrust into his life today and he’d been laying it thick on you. He’s coming to terms with his attraction to you and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

He nudged your shoulder, not wanting to test his voice right now, afraid it might be too gentle.

You stirred awake, your face relaxed and serene as you blinked blearily.

“Hm?” You rubbed your eyes, looking at your surroundings with confusion. Your eyes were red.

He wondered how much you cried.

He mumbled something unintelligible, you turned your gaze to him, the sleepiness now almost all gone.

“What? I can’t hear you.” Your tone was sharp and cutting, and your gaze, now devoid of all confusion, was similarly icy.

“‘didn’t mean to make ya’ cry.” You nearly believed him, nearly.

“What’s this? Another act to make me lower my guard? Well you don’t need to, I’m at your mercy. You can skip the pleasantries and just laugh at how pathetic I am.”

He stared at the floor, well, *glared*.

“You’re not pathetic.” He simply said, glaring at you in a way that dared you to challenge him”-and I’m not going to laugh at you.”

He could speculate about his feelings all day, drown in this euphoria of infatuation, hate you for making him weak but one thing he knows for sure is that he doesn’t want you to hate him. He wants your eyes to look at him in wonder again, to admire him and fill him with endless pride, to maybe smile at him, he hasn’t seen you smile yet but he bets it’ll be gorgeous.

It’s only because he wants his treasure to be in optimum condition, nothing more, nothing less.

“Then why do you go out of your way to demean me?” You questioned accusingly.

“I don’t, that’s just how I am, you’re going to have to accept it because you’re not going anywhere.” Dread filled you, knowing your days would be filled with humiliation, mocking words echoing in your head like an endless loop.

You stayed silent, accepting your fate because what else could you do? At least you got your greatest companion to keep away the loneliness; water. He once again waited for a response that never came, and he stood up with a sigh, stretching his limbs.

“Just eat your food. I guarantee you’ll like it.”

He said, hanging his cape around him once again, reminding you just who he is, making it flutter behind him as he left you all alone.

He was back early the next day, he found you asleep inside the pool, your head resting on your folded hands on the ledge. The sight had his worry spike so much that a vein was visible on his forehead. He woke you up and scolded you.

And then he proceeds to lay food in front of you, climbing up to sit on top of his hoard to watch you while you eat, not minding the fact that his gaze was sealed on you for minutes, nor the fact that at some point you scolded him for making you uncomfortable.

You didn’t like the glint in his eyes.

In the afternoon he was back with blankets, pillows and other gifts, hoping to sooth the raging waves of your ire. Trying to convince you that he isn’t that bad.

After a while, his daily visits, gifts…reluctant kindness was all you knew. You were starting to let the memories of your home slip, you were accepting the fact that the previous bonds you forged were inevitably breaking. You were accepting the fact that you’re now stuck in a cave as glorified treasure.

And it showed, the sadness on your face would linger, numbness in your tone. Even the water was suffocating.

“CAN YOU STOP ACTING SOULLESS?” And Bakugou eventually couldn’t take it anymore.

You turned to him, no longer was there a fire raging in your eyes. He’s losing the girl he met in his throne room on a fateful day. He no longer cares whether he has to bare his raw feelings to you, the intimidate, gushy, soft, mushy feelings he feels every time he sees you. He wants to hold you everyday, not like you’re an exotic treasure, *but his* treasure. He wants you have his hatchlings with you, and he wants to see you smile at him.

“Why should I?” You replied with dullness, not particularly moved.

“Because…” he looked constipated, his lips clamped together while his cheeks were dusted a cherry red.

“Because?” You didn’t get it. You’re just like a piece of jewelry right? Why does it matter if you become quiet and compliant?

“Because I love you.” He said softly, too softly for someone who looks as rugged and rough as him. Now that broke your composure. Your eyes widened, surprise painting your features as the dragon king Bakugou Katsuki just confessed to you. The greatest soldier in the land, the most terrifying shifter.

He cupped your cheeks, softly stroking the skin, appreciating the soft texture against his scarred hand. His face was so red, even his ears but he was smiling. He was smiling so hard that you wondered whether this was the same person. “I love you, I want you to be happy.” He said, now louder, prouder and more confident in his honeyed words.

You slapped his hand away.

“I don’t believe you.” You cruelly stomped on his confession, making his smile fall.

“But why? Have I not treated you well? I’ve never cared about someone as much as you”

“Prove you love me.” You challenged, staring him in the eye before adding.

“I’m pretty sure you can’t though.”

You turned around and walked away from him, but he decided that wasn’t the end of the conversation and he grabbed your wrist.

“How?!” Frustration was evident in his voice, but so was desperation. He was genuine about wanting to prove his love to you, what would people think if they saw the great dragon king behaving like this over a woman?

You ripped yourself from his hold and spat “figure it out.”

He came back at the dead of night, grunting, laughing and calling your name. You stirred from slumber, eyes fluttering open and peaking out from the blanket you cocooned yourself in. Yoy felt a hand brushing the hair away from your face, lips pressing to your forehead before the fog cleared away to reveal a bloodied Bakugou.

You screamed, scrambling to move away from him, but he held you back, keeping your supine form in place. With his arms on either side of you, not only holding your arms in place but also supporting his weight above you as he stared down at you like some sort of predator.

He laughed heartily, and if he wasn’t drenched in blood you’d find it kind of cute.

“What? Ya’ scared of a little blood? That’s cute.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, asking shakily whose blood it is.

His eyebrows rose, humming at your question before a cocky smirk took over.

“You’ll see. This will show you for sure that I love your bratty ass.” He got off you, walking towards the entrance of the cave, dragging a lifeless figure with him before discarding it carelessly in front of you.

It was the chief of water nymphs. Her old and withered frame looked pale and lifeless, yet brutal gashes littered her body.

“She was the one who sent you here, right?”

You wordlessly nodded, eyes glued to the corpse in front of you.

“I couldn’t set you free, ‘cuz I loved you, I won’t stand to have you around. But she hurt you a lot didn’t she? If she didn’t send you here as simply a peace offering, I would have found my way to you eventually and fell in love with you anyway. I don’t keep you because you’re another treasure on my hoard.” Despite the flaw in his justifications, his manic ramblings and his lovesick eyes, you weren’t repulsed, you weren’t mourning the death of the monster who sent you as a peace offering for objecting to her new rules.

No. Maybe you’re as fucked up as he is, but in a moment of pettiness, you turned to him and smiled.

You weren’t sure whether the redness on his cheeks were blood or a blush. But his eyes were looking at you like you were a miracle, a shining star, it’s like he had heart for eyes but who can blame him? Who can blame the wild thumping of his heart, that’s hammering against his ribcage like a woodpecker does to a tree? He finally got to see you smile.

“Do you believe me now?” He said, leaning closer to you, his eyes looking misty, glistening like the ruby on your neck.

“I do, Katsuki.” You replied, letting your eyes hold his own as you also moved closer to him, cupping his cheek, hand tangling in his surprisingly soft hair.

He was mesmerised, breath lost at your soft touch. The only physical contact he’s had before was when he was out in the field slaughtering enemies, hurting, grabbing. Not being caressed, because that’s soft and he’s never done soft until he met you.

You pecked him softly, lovingly. But you soon moved towards his ear, whispering carelessly.

“You know this could cause war with the forest creatures, right? You broke a centuries long treaty.”

He growled, giving you a bloodied grin. “Whatever those shitty extras throw at me, I can handle it. They wouldn’t pick a fight with me if they are smart.”

You squeezed his bicep, marvelling at how hard it was, he’s not infamous for nothing.

Is that all it takes to win you over?

You looked down at the chief, or ex-chief. You could still remember her cold, cruel grin as she saddled you up, to make an example out of you. No one questions her rule, no one has the right to, even if she endangers them, even if she takes the land that they always freely enjoyed.

Yeah, maybe that’s enough, you believed him. Or maybe you’re picking your own poison.

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