#beige sun umbrella

[monikabose]

Deck Covered in Columbus Mid-sized arts and crafts backyard deck photo with a roof extension

[bloggingmiles]

Deck Covered in Columbus

Mid-sized arts and crafts backyard deck photo with a roof extension

[futureofcities]

Pool Lap Milwaukee Mid-sized rectangular lap pool with traditional backyard tiles.

[unimpulsivethemes]

Traditional Pool Large elegant backyard tile and custom-shaped aboveground pool fountain photo

[shotgunhope]

Little Rock Traditional Pool Picture of a large, elegant backyard fountain with a custom-shaped aboveground pool

[sonder54]

Pool Lap Milwaukee Mid-sized rectangular lap pool with traditional backyard tiles.

[blobsandberries]

Lap (Dallas)

[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ UNCHAINED MELODY, PART FIVE !

summary :: surviving raccoon city together, you catch the affections of leon kennedy, ada wong, jill valentine, and carlos oliveira. six years later, you reunite with them and realize their obsession with you has increased tenfold.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 8.7k.

content warnings :: mdni! yandere!leon, yandere!ada, blood/gore, violence, death, weapons, drugging, kidnapping, stalking, noncon touching, invasion of privacy, mentions of sexual assault, parasites/infections, & needles.

ada wong's yandere traits are . . .

lucid, romantic, & confident

──── Ada Wong hates the sensation of grass on her skin. Yet still, the green matter stains all her clothes.

She'll spend her days laying in fields of grass. It tickles her skin and provokes her allergies, but she cannot fathom living without it. If she closes her eyes, she can almost stimulate the feeling of being with you once again. September 28th, 1998. On that road verge with dirt caked on her skin and a dandelion in her messy hair — Ada is convinced she is the only human who has ever been touched by such intense, perfidious happiness.

A beige trench coat littered with these same stains is preserved in her walk-in closet. It has not been worn in years, not since that night in Raccoon City. There are the occasional splatters of blood and gunpowder residue, but they are insignificant in comparison to the vivid green smudges. During rough patches, Ada will take the coat from its plastic covering and hold it close to her chest. If she closes her eyes again, she can almost convince herself it is you in her arms instead of this filthy, out-of-season garment.

As difficult as it is, however, she cannot let these feelings reach her heart. She cannot let herself feel for you.

She made this declaration long ago. Six years ago, to be exact.

Y/N L/N. The name she will never forget.

Ada remembers your evocative touch, your bunny-like shivering, your skin like flowers; she will never forget how you ended her life in Raccoon City.

The onslaught of inhuman, guttural growling had died down with the echo of gunshots. All flesh-eating creatures surrounding her now lay dead on the streets of Raccoon City. Now, a heavy silence sits. And the fear that follows slices into her flesh like a jagged knife. But, not for her life, no. For yours.

Ada briskly and anxiously scrutinizes her surroundings, searching for that jaw-dropping face she fell so hard and violently for. In the end, she finds nothing. All she is met with is the flickering lights of corner shops and the crackling of fire from car wrecks. When she looks down, however, Ada discovers the crumbled dandelion you gave her beneath the foot of her heel. Hastily, she grasps the precious weed and stuffs it into her coat pocket.

From here, attaining the G-Sample, selling it to the highest bidder, and earning more money than she could ever need was irrelevant. All that matters is finding you. Her darling petal, her bunny rabbit. Her salvation.

Ada's relentless efforts to find you result in Raccoon City being torn to shreds. Searching through Mizoil Gas Station to Umbrella's underground laboratory, all her attempts at bringing you back into her arms are brought to no avail. Ada is worn down and stained with grime, absolutely exhausted with dread.

It isn't until the golden sun rises does she learn of survivors being sent to a hospital outside of the city. She abandons everything in Raccoon City and high-tails it to Fox Park Hospital. Her feet ache from its uncomfortable stance in her stilettos and her lungs throb from the constant sprint. Still, nothing matters but you.

When she arrives at the hospital, she is overwhelmed with concerned families and tireless doctors. Several nurses inquire her about her physical state, but Ada disregards their concern entirely. She thought she could hide how perceptibly enamored she is with you through sly remarks and poised disposition. Maybe she'd conjure up some flattering remark to one of the doctors and bite her lip, all to gain access to your location. However, the only trait others can garner from her attitude is a desperate, downright feral act of despair.

Sharp nails digging into the shoulders of a poor nurse, she demands he inform her of your whereabouts. When the nurse squeaks out where you had been admitted to, Ada nearly punts him to the ground before breaking into a dash. She shoves past all other bystanders and bursts through the door to your room. And the way her heart surges in her chest upon entering could rival that of a genuine, torturous death.

There you lay, unconscious on the hospital bed. Bandages adorn the bruises and scars littered on your body. A white cast has been ensnared around your right arm.

The sight is nothing short of devastating. In a moment of weakness, she had so frivolously let you escape from her embrace. Now, you had to be the one who suffered the consequences.

Softly, Ada sits beside your sleeping form and restrains the urge to tackle you into a hug. It scares her, this sudden sense of warmth she possesses for you. She takes your weak hand into hers and shivers from the tender contact. I should not feel this way, she thinks to herself. Nothing about this is okay.

Despite the experience she has in the field of romance, Ada has never obtained genuine feelings for someone. All that lay beneath the surface of her seductive veneer was nothingness, sheer dust. She'll wear that coquettish nature like a crown and revel in the sense of power she feels of having someone beneath her. They care more about her than she does about them. And she loves it.

With you, though, things are different. Much different.

In all 24 years of her life, Ada never anticipated being slapped across the face with such raw emotion. The instance was ephemeral, but all-too devastating in the same breath. Dandelion between your fingers and the playful light in your eyes — the sight robbed her heart blind like candy from a baby. A lifetime spent in the depths of Winter, who knew a mere second of eye contact was all she needed to be lunged into the heavenly warmth of spring?

Ada is humiliated upon finding herself in the depths of such a ridiculous predicament. You have turned her into some lovesick monster, entirely incapable of maintaining stability. She thought she could control it; she thought she could shove you into a box with the rest of her past lovers. But, much like every other attempt she has made involving you, she failed miserably. No matter how hard she tries, she can't stop herself from being in love with you.

With this epiphany comes another. Every bruise, every scar, every wound on your body is living proof of what your life will become if she were to take you away. As badly as she wishes to take you and drown you in her adoration, she holds herself back. To live in complete bliss would mean robbing you of a good life; to ensure her happiness would mean robbing you of yours. By taking you away, her life would begin, yes, but yours would end. And if she were to take away the precious light you hold inside, she would never forgive herself.

The syringe she managed to snag from a passing doctor clatters to the floor. A physical manifestation of the realization seeping through her mind. For the very first time in her life, she cannot be selfish. For the first time, someone else's well-being is more important than hers.

She doesn't deserve you and you don't deserve her. You deserve happiness, you deserve normalcy, you deserve safety.

You deserve everything she cannot give you.

With a trembling breath, she affectionately drags the joint of her fingers down the side of your face. The mere thought of never being able to see this sight again shatters her. But for you, she would do absolutely anything, no matter how soul-crushing the pain is. Anything.

"Until next time, Y/N..."

The next six years were a tumultuous, frenzied blur. Ada Wong, notorious for her enticing personality, has crumbled.

Head-first, the agent had thrown herself into her work. Anything to keep her mind off of you. Or, at the very least, to look at the horrors she faces in her career to further remind herself you are better off without her. Every day, she oscillates with the idea of checking up on you, wherever you may be. It would be far too easy, as told by her skills. Though, if she were to do this, she knows she would not be able to leave you like she did six years ago. It had nearly killed Ada to leave you behind in that hospital. She isn't sure if she can survive that same pain all over again.

These gnawing desires keep her awake into the late hours of the night. Tossing and turning in bed, tossing and turning the idea of how good it would feel to have you in her arms. She wraps her arms around herself and caresses her own skin, pretending it is your hands on her body instead of her imagination. She feels weak, she feels deranged. But, she cannot help it. It kills her to not have you here with her.

She wonders how your life has changed since Raccoon City. What makes you smile, what makes you cry, if you're up at night thinking about her the way she does you. The misery nearly emulates the feeling of being butchered, as if you had personally cut open her flesh and sewed your name into her veins. But, Ada would do anything for you. Even if it means enduring the same torture every day, she is satisfied with life knowing she got to hold you. Even for just a second.

After a call with Albert Wesker, she is reminded yet again why you should not be a part of her life. To be exposed to this separate world would only be detrimental to you. She could never curse you with the burden that is her lifestyle. You deserve far more than that.

Ada teases the ring on her left hand. Mere hours after the crisis in Raccoon City, she preserved the dandelion you gave her and had it pressed into a ring. Six years later, this piece of jewelry has always ensnared her finger, as it remains her only source of security. The memory of you pulls at her heartstrings the way an angel plays a harp. In fact, it is the only memory she has that she can look back on fondly, as opposed to the bloodshed she has been so frivolously exposed to.

So absorbed in the warm rain of your memory, Ada nearly forgets the task Wesker had assigned for her. Abruptly and harshly, she is once again given another reminder of why you should stay far away from her. You make her weak, as Wesker told her, and neither of them cannot afford that weakness. She was fortunate enough to never disclose your identity with him, as he may have hunted you down in retaliation to her slacking efforts.

She doesn't know what she would do if she learned you were suffering out there. Wherever you are.

Opening the file Wesker sent to her, Ada scrutinizes the myriad of information sent her way. Through the grapevine, there was hearsay of Umbrella surviving the wreckage of Raccoon City. Satellite imagery displayed a vast forest where they had set up their 'sanctuary,' as they called it. Within the sanctuary were survivors of Raccoon City, where they would be kept captive to avoid exposing Umbrella and forcing them to face the consequences of their mistakes.

Her task was simple: find out if they have samples of Amber in their possession. If so, deliver the sample back to Wesker.

Of course, with this mission arose heavy concern. Images of you being subject to Umbrella's abuse sent a serrated rush of panic through her body. Ada had practically torn herself asunder with her efforts to protect you, she never acknowledged how other dangers may have slipped through the cracks.

A consideration, one much stronger than before, is what she is faced with. Giving into her selfish desires and having you by her side would benefit her happiness, yes, but it would also expose you to the horrors of her life. Leaving you without this burden in whatever life you had chosen for yourself would most likely benefit your happiness, yes, but would expose you to peril she cannot control. She would put her life down for your happiness, after all.

This consideration plagues Ada's mind as she is flown out to the sanctuary. Since the area was under investigation by another team, she had to play this smart, no matter how badly she wished to storm through the doors and hunt you down.

Yellow tape surrounds the entire premise, and numerous police officers and detectives are scattered amongst the area. Picking the lock to a window; Ada slides into the building with flexible ease. She lands with a bounce upon a bed. The springs whine beneath her weight; the headboard creaks with frail fragility. She finds herself in a sunken mess of fluffy throw blankets and tacky plushies. Climbing out of the array after practically drowning in it, Ada straightens her dress before scrutinizing the room.

The area is naturally stale. The same way a bleak, depressing hospital room feels. However, this detail is hidden beneath the mass of decorations and clutter. It is surrounded by love, despite its dull foundation.

A rickety bookshelf and stale bedside table are settled by the bed. On them are books checked out from the sanctuary's library, as well as wilting plants, a flickering salt lamp, dusty candles, and even more heaps of plushies. Ada's heels sink into a fuzzy rug as she studies the contents. A clothing rack can be found, too, with boring clothes hung upon it. Stickers and doodles adorn the supports, as well. 

Across from this was a sofa couch that sat opposite a chunky television. Cheesy horror movies are stacked on top of the thick surface. Another plant sits by the television in a custom-painted pot, leaves adorned in brown decay. Another plushie is rested against the TV, as well. God, how many stuffed animals does a person need?

Nothing within this small expanse relates to your whereabouts or the Amber, which eases Ada's mind. She lets out a sigh of relief. It would pain her in ways she could never fathom to know you were suffering in Umbrella's disturbed idea of a "sanctuary" while she was too busy trying to forget you.

Ada walks through the adjacent threshold and finds a small kitchen. Once again, the dull appearance had been diluted with heartfelt decor. Hand-crafted paintings are strung upon the walls. Some show the childlike fun of the artist, while others display the raw talent every brush and stroke exudes. A small table is huddled in the corner with a vase of Lego flowers serving as the centerpiece.

Cooking utensils, handmade clay figures, and tea sets are all scattered on the kitchen counters. A package of chamomile tea had been left out on the same counter and the shattered pieces of a mug had been left on the concrete. Strange, but it does not pull her attention.

It isn't until something catcher her eye while on her way out does her heart pound. By the art on the wall, beyond the scatterings of band posters and paintings, a myriad of polaroids had been taped into the shape of a heart.

And directly in the middle is a polaroid of you.

It is a candid shot of you in the sanctuary's garden surrounded by lush flowers. Fat, glittery smile on your face, there is more light in your eyes than Ada had ever seen. Beyond the jealousy for the photographer who got the privilege of drowning in that gaze, a sinking pit of dread sits like a brick in her stomach.

You were here. This whole time, you were here.

It only makes sense this is your room, she should have known. Who better to bring love into such a dank estate than you? You've made something bland more lively, as you do in all other areas of life. But, she was so concerned with roping you into the violent dangers of her life, that she strayed as far away from you as she could. Still, you found yourself here in the end. She was so concerned with keeping her vigorous feelings for you at bay that her negligence had caused you to be thrust into the darkest pits of this world. And nothing she can do now will erase the sheer weight of her frivolous mistake.

Her chest expands and deflates rapidly with hyperventilating breaths. Black dots swim in her doubled vision. Her skin is sheen with sweat. Nausea swims in her stomach. She collapses onto the bed, your bed. A quiet array of whispered "no"'s evades the cramped bedroom. She can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything!

"My petal, I'm so sorry. My sweet petal... How could I have let this happen...?" Ada is completely and utterly devastated.

The pervasion of an unfamiliar voice seeps in from outside the door. Ada covers her mouth to muffle the hyperventilating breaths protruding from her.

"T said they've fled to Spain. Fucking Spain, can you believe that shit?"

"Goddamn Umbrella... If only Oliveira were still here to see this. 'Give him somethin' else to do than daydream about his bitch, 'know what I mean?"

"I hear ya. Dude's a fucking nutcase."

Spain? Is that where you could be? Is that where Umbrella has taken you?

The doorknob jiggles and Ada immediately stands to her feet. Her swift nature had been robbed from her, as her legs now felt like two bags of sand. Her head throbs violently. It sounds like a tumultuous clammer before she succumbs to the turmoil and falls to the ground.

Sweat seeping down her forehead and her hands shaking, Ada attempts to pull herself up. She grips the corner of the bed frame and pulls her entire body weight. Her stiletto then accidentally kicks something beneath the bed. Looking for identification, Ada finds a plastic case with several cassette tapes inside. As she studies it, the doorknob jiggles once more. After greedily taking hold of it, Ada swiftly takes a few more souvenirs before leaving. The polaroid of you, a flower you molded out of clay, and an opossum plushie nestled on your bed. Then, she is off.

And within the penthouse that feels more like a model house than it does her actual home, Ada sits in her office. Inside the case full of cassettes, dates are written on each tape. Upon closer inspection, there's a sudden halt in activity after October. Almost as if Umbrella has lost interest in you. She prays this is the only reason, that they had released you and let you enjoy a life filled with the happiness you deserve. Thinking of the opposite has her whole body shivering.

Ada takes the cassette player in her desk and pops the earliest tape into place. She was so invested in finding where you had run off to, she had completely disregarded the gut-wrenching effect your voice would have on her. It's so... pretty. Like the first birdcall of Spring, like gentle waves crashing against the shore.

Ada is quick to grasp her control back, shifting her attention to the actual context of your words instead of how badly she wished to hear you whisper in her ear.

The contents of the tape display an audio journal, where you recall every horrid detail of the night that changed your life. You mention Leon Kennedy and Ada rolls her eyes from the annoyance his mere name brings. Six years have passed since she's seen him, or even thought of him, for that matter. But, the irritation that cop was marvelous at triggering still lives on. Of course, he's the first thing you talk about. She's sure he'd be ecstatic knowing this.

You speak about your time working at Mizoil Gas Station. When you trail off about your coworkers, your voice perceptibly drops when you speak of one in particular. With his wandering hands, sultry words, and a compulsion to ignore every 'no' you sent his way, you admit to yourself how good it felt to kill him.

As infuriated as this makes Ada, you then speak her name, and all coherent thoughts are stolen from her. She has to cover her mouth to restrain the sharp gasp that escapes. You do not speak thoroughly of your encounter with her, much to her dismay. Only detailing how she guided you out of the police department and protected you. Still, she revels in the harmonious melody of you speaking of her.

Ada can crawl out of cloud nine when you, unfortunately, move on to the next fraction of that night. To escape the zombies that attacked you and her, you sought protection in the local gun shop. There, you meet someone she was not aware of.

Jill Valentine.

Ada's eyes narrow when you speak of this woman. She can see the obvious signs of her being attracted to you, but you could be none-the-wiser to these affections. Your inability to heed flirtation is adorable if Ada were to be honest.

There's another transition to where you meet another man. Someone who, once again, Ada was unfamiliar with.

Carlos Oliveira.

He, too, showed obvious signs of being attracted to you. Which, once again, flew over your head. Both he and Jill had saved your life numerous times and you expressed this gratitude. To you, it was nothing but a common heroic act from two hardworking cops. Ada, however, read through the lines of their actions the same way she could read a children’s book.

They are in love with you. Hopelessly so. That much is clear.

It should be obvious. This is you we're talking about, after all. As much as she wishes they wouldn't, it is simply impossible to not become irrevocably besotted with you. Even if it were feasible, it would simply be brainless not to wish to spend the rest of forever with you.

The tape whirs as it reaches its ending point. Your story ends with waking up at Fox Park Hospital before being sent to this sanctuary. However, there is nothing that implies where your path has led six years later. There are miscellaneous updates on your physical health and your mental state, but there are zero indications of where you have vanished from.

With you gone and no reliable trace of your disappearance, there are only two potential outcomes of your whereabouts. Either you are still in Umbrella's clutches or those two cops have taken you for themselves. Six years of contemplation and Ada has finally reached a solution. Not a structured one, but a solution, nonetheless.

Find you, ensure your safety, and pray to God she has enough strength to leave you after.

And you, Y/N L/N, are exactly where Ada thought you'd be. However, the circumstances of your whereabouts are far different than what she presumed them to be.

After Dr. Gorkis, the man you had once called your friend, forced you into a state of unconsciousness, you were comatose for an undisclosed amount of time. When you wake, you are perplexed over your foreign environment. Inspecting your surroundings, there is absolutely nothing that can enlighten you of what happened within the dark gap of your memories.

The room you have awoken in is gloomy, accompanied by the cracked lantern protecting you from complete murk. The stone walls surrounding you are riddled with moss and chains. Several shelves stand awkwardly in the corners, where dilapidated books and broken pots all rest on the rickety surface. A rusted plate sits by your feet. A cluster of flies hover over the mashed potatoes hardened from age and the bread overwhelmed with mold.

You search about for any familiar faces, presumably those of Jill and Carlos. This isn't the first time you've been kidnapped, after all. If they were to lurk in the dark depths of this room, it would surely be no surprise. Instead, the area around you is entirely desolate. Nothing but the sound of your bated breath fills the empty space.

Your neck aches, your head throbs, your body trembles — everything has morphed into a permanent hue of misery you do not recognize. In a morbid way, you could almost be grateful for the circumstances you were kidnapped in before. A beautiful sanctuary, then a lavish home, and now this. A cold, decrepit room with no one to comfort you but yourself.

It's almost comical, how much this has happened to you. However, when you bring your hand to your neck to ease the pain and feel the necklace Carlos gifted you, laughter does not escape you. Alternatively, you curl your fingers around the pearls and yank with what little strength is left in your body. You watch with newfound satisfaction as the pieces clatter to the rotten floorboards.

A new beginning; the next chapter. That is what this feels like.

Stumbling over to the decaying door, it whines as you open it steadily. Haphazardly scanning the area for any potential assailants, you find none. Instead, you find a narrow hallway with lit candles hung upon the decaying walls. The light they exude guides you to a large window smeared with dirt and grime. Outside, the heavy downpour of rain neglects your need to identify your current location.

Your vision then abruptly goes black and an unfathomable pain ensnares your head. It leads you to collapse against the wall as you groan out from the abysmal misery. A voice calls out to you from the depths of your mind. A sort of ghastly incantation. A whisper you would only hear in the presence of a nightmare.

"Pursue them..." It taunts, "The lost lamb is escaping. Deliver onto them... Salvation..."

And just as it had begun, it was over. Your vision has cleared, and the ache in your skull has eased. It was all over.

One glance through the filthy window and fear hits you like a punch to your gut. A group of people dressed in ragged clothing make their presence known, all with pitchforks and axes in hand. Their torches guide them as they follow the muddied path. You can only stare in trepidation as they saunter about like hungry predators in search of prey.

When you hear the chains to the front entrance rattle, you turn and race towards your escape. Up the rotten steps of the ladder, the dingy expanse of the attic does not aid you in your efforts to flee. The light at the end of the tunnel is a shattered window, where the harsh weather brings violent rain and wind into the room. Out of the window, a shed riddled with overgrown ivy sits at a nearly-perfect distance beneath. You'd rather break your ankles than get sacrificed, after all.

Ripping the bandaid off, you leap from the ledge and land clumsily. It is a thunderous collision your assailants most certainly heard. With your feet fortunately intact, you leap from the roof of the shed and sprint away from the chaos behind you.

You hear unintelligible shouts, you hear accelerating footsteps, and you hear gunshots echo from afar. Rain feels like glass as it pours down on you. They meld with your tears and sweat. Your feet are cramped in your new, expensive boots. Still, you do not look back. Even with your lungs aching with every step you take, you continue to race forward as far as your legs can take you.

Several more throbbing paces and you find yourself in the center of a village. Dilapidated houses are scattered around the grounds, while large mountains frame the small area. Shifting your gaze forward, you find a rickety signpost. Signs that once read locations had now been overwhelmed with blood. The words 'Los Iluminados' and 'Lord Saddler' were painted in the red matter.

In a fit of enervation, you fall to the dirt. The substance stains your body and clothes, something Jill and Carlos put so much effort into preserving. You feel a sense of trepidation when your thoughts subconsciously drift to those two. Staring down at yourself, you see how every inch of you is still marked in their possession. The scent of Carlos' cologne still clings to his jacket that he draped around you. The shoelaces Jill quadruple-knotted have now been torn, the loose threading dirty and sticking out in awkward directions. Almost as if after all of this turmoil to escape them, their residue was still printed on you.

With air in your lungs after what felt like so long without it, you bring yourself to your feet. You clench your aching abdomen before limping forward. You then ponder over how you'll recount this absurd story to the police.

Then, you're flying.

Something wraps around your waist and yanks. Before you can comprehend it, the ground grows further, further, and further away from you.

With an exclaim of surprise, you land on the flat ledge of a mountain. You don't have a chance to acknowledge the impossible explanation of you defying gravity. Not when your breath gets lodged in your throat when you find the source of the sudden occurrence.

Ada Wong is that very source.

You stare up at her with the same disbelief she possessed. And this sight of you is surely something she will never forget.

The lick of sun in your eyes has never faltered, despite the years of chaos and disarray you’ve endured. The rain speckles across your body and cascades down your flesh, almost as if it was savoring every inch of you it got to touch. Bruises sit like kisses upon your skin; blood is painted on you like a vermillion art piece. Exactly the way it was six years ago.

Ada has found you. And the intensity of the euphoria that follows could be enough to kill a man, she is sure of it.

It is gut-wrenching, how beautifully nostalgic the sight is. This time, however, she will not allow any unwelcome guests to intrude.

Ada returns her grapple gun to the holster and crouches down beside you. A tender, gloved hand finds its way to your waist. It shivers and hovers, terrified of the emotions she'll be unable to control when she makes contact. Terrified of feeling nothing but cold sheets beneath her and waking up from this dream. When her hand does find you, as it always will, a hot chill surges through her body. Ada can hardly gather herself as the revelation settles. You are safe, you are alive, and you are with her again.

The other hand finds your cheek. The dandelion-pressed ring pokes against your skin, a firm reminder of how long this devotion has lived. She can feel the Earth sparkling in her palms with her hands on you; she can feel the warmth of the stars with your flesh against hers. Every bone, every sinew, every vein — everything good the universe have to offer is right beneath her. So, she does what she wished to do before, but was interrupted. What she has dreamt of doing for years, but was not able to do. She does what she has always wanted to do.

Her lips are on yours faster than you could think.

Everything inside her... Melts.

Rain falls like confetti. The frigid temperatures ease from the heat you share together. Every jut and curve of your lips mold perfectly against hers, as if you were made for each other. It robs her breath straight from her lungs, it robs her brain of any coherent function. The thumping of her heart batters in her ears as though it were trying to lunge from her chest with its sheer, rampant speeds. Her hands shiver with fervent need. The lump in her throat remains lodged no matter how much she tries to swallow it. What on Earth are you doing to her?

Your kiss is more soul-crushing than she would like to admit, as pride has always been her most prized possession. And it is all so stupidly cliché that Ada could almost laugh. A kiss in the rain. She never thought she would experience something as tooth-rotting and romantic as this. Still, it succeeds in practically shattering what remains of her moral compass. The suave and collected Ada Wong has been shattered. And the devil on her shoulder begs her to indulge in every last sliver of you she can.

She's a woman of self-control, but you had torn that control straight from her hands and claimed it as yours. She's a woman with tight fists and cruel words, but you have taken every rough edge and filed them down to soft curves.

When you inevitably part, Ada follows the direction your lips go, absolutely desperate for another taste. She is practically inconsolable without your warmth.

"Y/N..." She gasps out your name. It's a silent prayer for more of this, for more of you.

Dark webs of veins then spread among your face like woven spider's silk. It causes your vision to blur and your ears to ring. You wince from the sudden surge of pain and recoil from Ada's touch, something she didn't anticipate being so gutted by. The agony pumps through your veins like a drug; it has you writhing and groaning against the mud. It practically robs you of all your senses, the only comprehensible thing being the torture inflicted upon your feeble body.

Ada is then forcefully brought to reality where she is cruelly reminded of how this is not real. She cannot have you and you were never meant to be hers. No matter how badly she wishes you could be.

When you turn over, clutching your stomach in pain, she places her hand on your shoulder. Your eyebrows scrunched in confused pain, face wet from the pouring rain, lips sheen from her lip gloss. You are beautiful in the most devastating way. The sight bursts her heart open as if someone has nestled a bomb in her chest cavity. But, how she feels in this moment is not important. The one thing she has torn herself apart to prevent is now happening. You are hurting.

"What- What's happening to me!?" You cry out, a chunk of blood splattering from your mouth when you cough.

"Y/N... My petal...!" Ada's thumb rubs soothing circles on your arm while her cheek rests against the same surface. She clutches onto you like you're her lifeline, her last sliver of hope.

A voice interrupts. "Ada! I've been looking everywhere for-"

Ada rips her gun from its holster and points it at the intruder in fervent speed. She is terrified of being torn away from you like she was several years ago, she cannot let it happen again.

Luis Sera puts his hands up in defense, eyes blown wide in shock from her sudden shift in nature. In one hand of his is a dirtied white box with tape sloppily wrapped around the frame. He shakes it timidly, diverting her attention to what is most important about their agreement. Cure Ada of the infection and she'll let him take a seat on her helicopter.

Her stance does not halter, however. Instead, she throws yet another demand his way.

"Cure them." She orders. A perceptible tinge of despair is present in her tone.

When he remains frozen, Ada steps closer and presses the barrel of her gun directly to his forehead.

"Cure them or you know what happens." Her stare is violent. Her disposition is terrifying. There is nothing but the honest, undying truth with every syllable she speaks.

"I- But, our deal-?"

A gunshot echoes.

Deafening. Heart-stopping. The sound is accompanied by the harsh thump of Luis' dead body. Horrifying.

Ada takes the box from his limp grasp. She flips his deceased body over and steals the sample of Amber doused in blood, shoving it into her pocket. Using her sharp nails and an impromptu knife, she then slices the tape from the box. Once she hastily takes the syringe from its plastic enclosure, she rushes over to you.

Her behavior endures an abrupt shift when she crouches at your side. From a blood-thirsty monster to a fluffy-winged angel, Ada caresses your skin as if it were fine silk. You whimper as you float in and out of consciousness. You are so inert, in fact, you do not feel the intrusion of a needle and the anecdote seeping through your bloodstream. Ada comforts you through this entire process. Caresses to your flesh, kisses to your skin — she does it all terrified of it being the last time she ever touches you.

With the key to Luis' laboratory, she knows what her next course of action is. What she originally anticipated to be a quick check-up on your well-being had manifested into awakening her deep, irreparable fervor for you. But, she cannot let her measly emotions blind her to what is most important. You and only you.

She will stay, cure you, and pray to God once more that she has enough strength to leave you after.

And it kills her more than she ever thought it would.

When you wake, you find a blinding, fluorescent light hanging above your head. Cold metal and jagged leather nestles into your skin. The tapping of keyboards and technology humming fills the silence. You could almost roll your eyes if it weren't for the confusion overruling all. Have you been kidnapped again?

Attempting to gain mobility and move your body was entirely fruitless. Instead, a weak whine is all you can conjure. The frail sound is immediately met with the affections of someone else in the room.

Even in these circumstances — the grungy expanse of Luis' lab and Ada's dead parasite on the ground — she has never felt such euphoria. The severity of these feelings terrifies her, but she cannot help but fall into the emotions like a child would jump into a swimming pool. To be with you, there is nothing she could ever want more. But, as she has firmly stated numerous times, she cannot be selfish with you. No matter how badly she wishes to do such.

"Everything is going to be alright, petal. I won't let anything happen to you... Never again..." Another kiss is pressed upon your forehead. Ada's lip gloss stirs with the icy sweat beaming on your flesh.

One tap to the computer and the machinery whirs to life. Three lasers then protrude into you and begin to eradicate the Las Plagas inside of your body.

A horrible, gut-wrenching scream evades the room. Agony hits you like a tidal wave. You shout, you wail, you sob. You are in such horrendous pain, it is impossible to keep quiet. Your relentless squirming to escape the source of such misery was futile, as the restraints around your wrists keep you compliant and subject to this torment. Reassurances of "I'm here, petal" fail to conquer the sheer volume of your cries. Ada takes your hand, peppering kisses and nuzzles upon any surface of skin she can reach. Soul-crushing dread satiates her body upon seeing you in such pain. It is hurting her more than it is hurting you.

How could she have been so ignorant? How could she have let your suffering get to this point?

How could she have possibly lived every day oblivious to your well-being? How can she live with herself now knowing she had so carelessly neglected you?

How can she possibly live without you?

And as fast as it started, it was all over. The hum of the machinery silences. A vibrant "SUCCESS" flashes on the computer screen. Ease envelops your body like a warm blanket and for the umpteenth time that day, you doze off. It's a slumber like never before, where the sheer exhaustion derived from the most eventful 24 hours of your life has finally boiled over.

You now lay there. Lifeless.

"Y-... Y/N...?" Ada's voice barely surfaces above a whisper.

The death grip you had on her hand weakened and Ada never anticipated the sheer terror it would make her feel. The fear is a heavy weight on her chest, a tremor in her body. Something wet cascades down her cheeks. With skepticism, she brings her gloved hand to her face to identify the strange substance.

She's... crying?

Ada can't remember the last time she had cried. Her entire life she has powered through any turmoil with her chin held high and a stone-cold soul. Never was she allowed to feel, hence the secure control she has over herself. Now, however, the emotions escape through her facade the way a gunshot wound bleeds through a dirty bandaid.

Your flesh is cold, your body is painfully still. Ada can not bring herself to consider the conclusion that pokes and prods at her mind. Where the big heart she fell in love with stops beating. Where the eyes she'd give her life to gazes in forever loses their light. Where the only good thing this disgusting world has to offer is taken away.

Where she loses hold of the only happiness she has ever felt.

The clinical logic that had always benefited her has now become her worst enemy. Ada scans your body from head to toe, desperate for even the smallest sliver of life. More gasps of your name pervade the room, as well as the gentle, yet desperate nudges to your body in hopes of waking you from your slumber.

Ensuring you are safe, happy, and far away from the dangers within her own life has become her only purpose. Without you, Ada is now lost within the whorls of her empty, dreary world.

The woman is full-on weeping now. It had been so long, she had forgotten what it felt like to cry altogether. Her face twists with every ugly sob parting from her mouth. Her form convulses with each uncontrollable cry protruding out of her chest. Ada has become a mess of snot and tears, surely a sight the old version of her would be revolted by.

A cough fills the lonely silence. And the groggy sound could rival an angel's symphony with its raw beauty.

Alive.

You are alive.

"Hey, you did it...!" You manage to wheeze out upon seeing your status on the computer screen, voice dazed and crooked.

A smile, albeit a weak one, breaks out on your face and Ada swears she has not ever seen a sight so breathtaking. Her hands cling to your face, searching every inch to ensure she hasn't lost the only thing she could ever love. And then, she smiles. Ada smiles like she never has before; Ada smiles like she has never known pain. It is nearly deranged, how blinding and exhilarating the emotions on her face are.

She speaks before her brain can compute the consequences of her next actions.

"I love you."

The three words are spoken with such acute clarity, it is difficult to not be completely entranced by them. Ada's eyes are blown wide as her gaze sinks into yours. Her body trembles from the irrepressible fear mixed with relief coursing through her. For the first time in (quite literally) forever, she is telling the pure, unadulterated truth. However, your lack of reciprocation causes Ada's logic to fully take control of her mind. You do not love her. And as impossible as it is, she must force herself to not love you. But God, you do not make it easy.

"I-I mean- Did you have any doubt, petal? I should be offended you think so low of me. But, with those eyes, how could I be?" The tremble in her voice jeopardizes her attempt at swiftly building vanity.

You don't respond to her, you can't respond. All you can think about is how you nearly died and how Jill and Carlos will surely slit her throat for what she has done.

Ada glances down at the ring on her finger, the very thing that has held her over these past six years. It is almost humiliating to wear it. To know its existence is because of her inability to move on from this stupid crush that has somehow harbored full control of her life. Then again, Ada cannot bear to ever part from it. The thought makes her queasy, like a boat swaying against harsh waves of melancholic uncertainty. To toss the ring overboard would mean completely succumbing to the force of the sea, to drown in the heavy mass of her feelings. Cursed for eternity with stagnant sorrow.

And even though the truth strikes like a knife, Ada must commit to the plan she originally formed. Bring you to safety and pray to God once again that she has enough strength to leave you after.

"Three times..." You whisper to yourself in disbelief, your voice a ghost that Ada can hardly decipher.

With furrowed brows and a quiet hum of question, she beckons you to continue.

"Only six years and I have managed to get kidnapped not once, not twice, but three times. That's gotta earn me a place in Guinness, right?"

She reads through your attempt at masking your prevailing emotions with humor. That playful attitude, how deeply she loves it. And how devastatingly difficult it is for her to fall out of love with it. In these circumstances, when your lively demeanor is used to shield yourself from pain, it quickly festers into something she despises.

Even through everything that has happened, you are still playful. Cracking jokes, making comical jests. Just like you did all those years ago. Ada could almost be angry at you for this, for making her fall so clumsily in love with you. Almost.

"First, it was Umbrella. They had never hurt me, so I never felt they deserved the title of "kidnappers," but I guess my naivety is what got me into this shit in the first place."

This 'naivety' you speak so poorly of is mistaken for the honest warmth of your heart. You have this beautiful ability to find positivity, light, and kindness in the ugly world. Yet again, another reason why it is impossible for her to untangle you from her heartstrings. She does not speak of this, however. She is afriad of vomiting out every syllable of adoration her voice could muster.

"Then, it was..."

You hesitate, a subtlety Ada does not overlook.

"Jill and Carlos." Their names sit like rotten fruit on your tongue.

You cringe upon imagining how those two would surely react to you now, fawning over your current state as if you're some baby lamb. They nearly have a breakdown from something as mere as a paper cut, you cannot imagine the absolute warfare they'd induce upon seeing you now. Beaten, bloodied, and your organs practically on fire from the laser-induced torture they had just endured. Though, it feels strangely good to be able to breathe without them.

"A little over six months is how long they kept me. Again, they never hurt me, so it feels wrong of me to call them "kidnappers"... When I think too hard about it, I know it is what they are, I just never wanted to admit it. God, they took my freedom like it was pocket change!"

The sneer you hold has nothing against the absolute fury stretched among Ada's face.

"In the end, I escaped. I-I didn't know where I intended to go or what my plan was, but now I really, really don't know what to do..."

To make matters worse, you curl into yourself and begin to cry. It kills her to do such, but she must hold herself back, as giving you comfort would only add fuel to the fire that is her devotion to you. And to refrain from scooping you in her arms is practically killing her. To not be able to touch and comfort you, Ada knows that this is the universe testing her. No, torturing her. Every mistake, every flaw, every selfish deed — this is the karma that caught up to her after a lifetime of running from its inevitability.

"And I'm just so scared. I know they're gonna find me again and I won't be able to escape them. I'll never be free. I'll be running forever until I either submit to them o-or die!"

A beat passes when another unwelcome, unruly sob escapes your throat. The sheer calamity of this day had prevented you from processing these events. Now, the exhaustion and anguish are too much for you to bottle up.

"Oh, petal..." As you cry, Ada's long acrylics dig into the meat of her palm.

She refrains from caressing the warm skin of your shoulder. She holds herself back from pressing another tender kiss to your forehead. To prevent herself from doing such feels like suffocating. As if the heavy mass of her burning desires became physical matter and were now crushing her.

"Ada, I can't thank you enough for all you have done for me." Your gratitude is certainly not taken for granted, as every pretty word falls from your mouth and directly into the mosaic of her heart.

She cannot be in love with you anymore. She can't, she can't, she can't.

"I'm sorry for being so selfish, but please..." With helpless desperation in your eyes, you plead as though your words do not make her absolutely weak.

She must stay strong, she must complete her plan. Find you, ensure your safety, and pray to God she has enough strength to leave you after.

"Don't leave me..."

Welp, there goes that plan.

She would slaughter every soul before she'd admit it to herself, but turning her back on it has now done more harm than good.

You make her soft.

Needy.

Hungry.

You have rendered her to the same disposition of an animal, entirely feral for any chunk of you she can sink her teeth into.

"I'm right here, petal... I'm not going anywhere."

Ada Wong has let go. And you are oblivious to the consequences of this.

The resistance she once had has now faded. For six years, these tree roots have coiled around her limbs, keeping her restrained within the suffocating soil. Today, they have untangled themselves. Ada surfaces the thick dirt to find Spring in its most genuine, vulnerable time. Bunnies chase through the blossoming flowers. Trees dance with the gentle breeze. Fresh rivers flow through the bright forest. The war has ended; the torture is over.

You are at her side and there is nothing Ada could ever want more.

When she guides you out of the laboratory, she informs you of the helicopter that will soon arrive. If you weren't seconds away from succumbing to exhaustion, you'd notice the terrifying, devoted undertones beneath her structured facade. There is a man and a woman you have seen this behavior in too well, after all. However, Ada's ability to maintain herself differs from Jill and Carlos' messy aptitude.

She says your name, beckoning you to follow her. Y/N. It feels so good to say it, to have the sugary word on her tongue. It feels so good to speak it into the air and watch those eyes gaze at her with wonder, the same wonder she has fallen so hopelessly in love with. The bliss that follows after you should be considered a crime with the sheer effect it has on her. Then again, Ada was never one to follow the rules.

The two of you both race through the many twists and turns that scatter the island. Shipping containers, cargo lifts, and barrels splattered with yellow paint, you and Ada dodge the obstacles in your path. And still, she protects you with her life. Just as she had wholly promised.

Back in Raccoon City, she had lost control. She cannot afford to lose that control again, not when losing you is a possibility. Her mindless infatuation had already thrust you into danger, she would die if she let it happen once more.

With burning lungs and weak legs, you both finally arrive at the loading docks. Ada doesn't break a sweat as she tells you the helicopter will be arriving shortly. You collapse onto a pile of brown, paper sacks, now finally given a moment of rest after so many exhausting hours without it. You could nearly cry with relief.

The creak and whine of footsteps against the thin metal floors pervade the air.

A voice speaks.

"Y/N...!?"

You both look to identify the voice.

Your stomach sinks like an anchor at sea.

Leon Kennedy.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ I CARE FOR YOU STILL

AND I WILL FOREVER . . . ❞

this is what i imaged ada's flower-pressed ring to look like. and this is what i imagined the teddy bear necklace carlos gave reader looks like.

gif creds :: ada.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

TF141 taking you on a picnic date 💐

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

They're a little very all over the place because I wrote all of them on different days lol

I hope you'll enjoy it anyway <3

Some NSFW for all of them, but it's just a little bit at the very end, the rest is sweet fluff!!

Lmk who you would go on a picnic date with!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

John is such a romantic.

Maybe not the flashy kind, but in subtle and sincere ways. He would absolutely love to take you on a picnic date, he might even be more excited about it than you are.

You know how girls have those dreams of specific dates or scenarios??? Well, boys have that too, and this is John's. He finds the perfect spot, a secluded park with a field of wildflowers that bloom beautifully in the summer.

As ready as he was to organize the whole thing himself in the matter of a day, he'd adore to organize it with you. Write a grocery list, make some homemade goods, pack up the car. The domesticity makes his heart do flips.

"Do you reckon champagne would be too over the top?"

"John, honey, we're going on a picnic."

"Touchè."

And it's 100% fool proof.

This man has something planned for every single scenario because nothing will ruin this for him. He'll hold your umbrella while he gets soaked if he has to.

He hasn't asked you to marry him yet, but this seals the deal for him. He's already imagining going on a picnic like this on every single anniversary until you're physically unable to.

Did he overdo it a bit with the outfit? Maybe, but he couldn't care less about potential grass stains when his white button-down shirt and his beige slacks basically make you drool.

John insisted on a classic picnic basket, but he'll accept input regarding the pattern of the blanket. He's so utterly in love with you it's ridiculous. And when you come down the stairs in a flowy and floral sundress the blood in his body doesn't know where to rush first, his heart or his cock.

"Fucking hell, dove. You look divine."

He makes heart eyes at you but also has a raging hard on. What can he say? You keep him balanced.

John has to try so hard not to drop to his knees in front of you and beg. For what? He doesn't even know. It just feels like the right thing to do with you looking like a goddess. He loves it when he can press his nose against your soft mound all while his forehead rests on your pudgy tummy and your fingers card through his hair.

The drive there is lovely. The sun is out, it's a comfortable temperature, and the mood is high. The windows are rolled down, and you both sing along to music while his hand is planted firmly in yours. The location is even more beautiful than you thought. There's willow trees and all kinds of sweet smelling flowers accompanied by the symphony of busy bees and chirping birds.

After everything is set up, it's the best day of your life, probably. It's so so so nice.

And yes, he did bring the champagne.

Your head is in his lap while he strokes your hair and feeds you bits of cake. It's so romantic that it's sickening. SICKENING, I say. He's just so perfect. You talk and laugh, and it's so fun. T

he day goes by in the blink of an eye, and suddenly, it's golden hour, and John swears you're heaven on earth. You're so pretty, and he wants nothing more than to kiss you silly, frankly.

So he does.

Just bristly and sloppy kisses wherever he can reach, your cheeks, jaw, neck. You shift your position, you're now lying down on the blanket, facing each other. The tips of your noses touch, and you're a tangled mess of limbs.

John wants to fuck you more than he ever wanted anything in his life, but he's a man of style, so rubbing you through your panties until your hips buck away from his hand will have to do until you get home and he can take care of you properly <3

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Johnny only wants to spend time with you. He doesn't care how.

He'll do anything to be by your side. Such a clingy bastard but we all love him for that. He loves being outside, and now he gets to let out his romantic side, too???? He's sold.

I'm also firmly convinced that he listened in on what his sisters gushed about in books or movies, and he uses that as his guideline for dates.

He makes sure there's a variety of different foods. Let's be honest he probably packed way too much, but he just wants to have options! Frankly, Johnny's is positively buzzing with excitement to get to spend such a lovely day with you.

As much as he loves to laze around with you on the couch, he needs air to breathe. So anything that's outside is an immediate yes from him. He's so so so excited that he doesn't shut up about it for days before the actual date.

Johnny is 100% one to overpack. He takes absolutely EVERYTHING, and you end up not even using half of it.

"I- Johnny??"

"Yeah, bonnie?"

"Why, for the love of God, did you bring a hazmat suit???"

"Ya never know!"

He will pack so many outdoor activities, like frisbee, badminton, a football, literally so much but you don't end up using any of it because he'll doze off as the sun shines down on the both of you.

He just can't help it! Your pudgy tummy is such a nice pillow, and the way your fingers rake through his mohawk and over his scalp nearly make his eyes roll into the back of his head.

He doesn't notice the smiles and nice looks the pair of you get from bypassers, but you can't help but giggle. It makes your belly jiggle, which in turn makes Johnny smile, still face down in your soft fat.

After he wakes up, though, there's a lot of talking that you'll happily listen to.

Corny jokes, overexaggerated stories from missions or his family, and from time to time, he'll get distracted by your pretty face with all its soft edges and kiss you.

Constant snacking. I mean, we all know the boys can EAT, but Johnny is such a foodie. Will eat everything and anything.

He also LOVES Irn Bru. It's definitely more of an... acquired taste, shall we say, but I think it's also very nostalgic for him.

He doesn't care what you wear. However, there are some things that get him feral. Sundresses are obviously on the list, but he adores long skirts. He likes how they flow when there's a nice breeze, and he thinks they make you look very elegant.

He will play into the whole Princess charade with long skirts or dresses.

"There's ma princess. Are ya ready to depart, m'lady?"

He will also bow very dramatically.

Undoubtedly, his favorite part of those skirts is when he gets to push them up your plush thighs and bury is face in your sweet cunt while the fabric is bunched up around your wide hips and fiddles with the hem because his goal is to bring you to bliss with his tongue only <3

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Kyle loves the water.

I don't know why, but I feel it in my bones. From streams and lakes all the way to the great big ocean. His casual style in the summer would definitely be coastal grandson, too.

So your picnic date would obviously take place in the vinicty of water. It's somewhere in a small park that has a nice big lake with lilypads and ducks swimming across it.

You'd be right by the shore, feet in the shallow water while you enjoy your lunch. Kyle is so sweet and considerate!

He'd bring you a bouquet of daisies and lovingly hold your hand in his. If it gets a little too breezy, he'll tuck you into his side and stretch his jacket over the both of you as much as he can.

He always brings you a new rock from that lake when he comes home from his morning run, and when you two are at the beach, he'll collect seashells with you.

It's all about balance and teamwork with Kyle. He makes the sandwiches while you whip up a quick sweet treat. You carry the basket while he has the blanket slung over his shoulder and your drinks in the other hand!

I feel like he'd really enjoy picnics, but they're not his favorite activity. He likes to explore a bit, just sitting around isn't quite his style. But it's nice to just sit and breathe sometimes.

For dates, he prefers the classic going out to dinner. Getting to see you all dressed up in the gentle atmosphere of a cozy restaurant makes his heart swell. But he won't ever deny you anything. Definitely not something as simple as a picnic.

A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he sees a little duck family waddling along the shore before they glide into the water.

"You think we'll have little ducklings of our own one day?"

You can only match his smile as you follow his line of sight.

"Who knows, maybe."

He pulls you close and presses a kiss to your temple. The picnic is starting to grow on him.

"... did you mean actual ducklings, or was it a metaphor for kids?"

"Both?"

As badly as you want to call him ridiculous, the mental image of Kyle with a duckling or a baby makes your heart beat with affection.

Also does not care what you wear, but he, too, has a weakness for sundresses as all men do. The way it hugs your ass, your tummy, and your supple tits makes him want to sink his teeth into your soft flesh.

An absolute sucker for a square neckline. No, I can not elaborate. You'll just have to take my word for it.

You watch the sunset together, the park becoming emptier as the light fades. He loves how you look during the golden hour and will gently hold your face to admire all your pretty features. Kyle likes that the park now only has the both of you and a pair of swans that swim over the lake like lovers.

What he loves even more is making you ride his slender fingers while the only sounds that fill the air is the chirping of cicadas and your heavenly moans while the remnants of the golden sun shine down on you making you look like a dream come true <3

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Simon isn't thrilled, let's say.

When he thinks of picnics he thinks of big open spaces, obnoxious people with annoying kids and uncomfortable wooden benches. Of which none are his cup of tea.

So you make compromises. Talk about it and ask what he would be okay with. He isn't the biggest fan of PDA, he's stuck between wanting to show off his love for you to the whole world and keeping it close to his heart like the sacred thing that it is.

But Simon perks up when you mention something about a lovely forest that's pretty secluded. Now that he can work with. Even though he's a born city boy, he'd much rather take a walk in a forest or on a little trail than on the busy streets of Manchester or London.

So he agrees, deciding that your excited reaction and thank you kisses were already worth it. He watches as you prepare the lunch you're taking with you, answering all your questions on what he'd prefer.

The truth, he'd eat rocks if your lovely hands prepared them.

He packs up the car and drives to the car park nearby, grumbling over the fee before it all melts away when he sees your smile.

The walk there on its own is nice. Holding your hand and listening to the birdsong that echoes along the tall trees. Of course, he's carrying everything.

You will never ever have to carry anything with him around, not on his watch. It's his way of repaying you for taking care of him and loving him. He would've carried you as well if you weren't so fussy about it.

When you set up the blanket and just lay down, it's the first time you think you've ever seen his shoulders untense on their own.

Simon's eyes even flutter shut, and his breath evens out.

It's just the two of you in a little glade with the vast green of the woods making your own little sanctuary.

Your head is on his shoulder, and his nose is buried in your hair.

"This.. this is nice."

He speaks so softly as if not to disturb the peace of nature. You can't help but smile and press a kiss to his cheek.

"I'm glad you think so. It is really nice."

It's mostly pleasant silence after that with the occasional short conversation, but that's how you like it best.

When you hand him his lovingly prepared sandwich, he catches your chin between his fingers and kisses you so softly that you melt right into his touch.

"You're so patient with me, love. I appreciate it."

"Of course. A few compromises aren't the end of the world if it means you're happy."

He's a fucking goner, okay.

He loves it when you wear one of his sweat jackets or flannels over a nice dress. It's so obviously not yours which signals to other people that you're taken.

And considering the size and color of the thing, it's safe to assume it belongs to that hunk of a man always by your side.

He lays back onto the soft blanket and pulls you onto his chest, wrapping his arms around you. There are a few sun spots shining through the thick canopy of leaves, warming your skin.

You're half asleep, dozing off, ignoring the way he fiddles with his trousers until he pushes your panties to the side and sinks his thick cock into your pussy, having you warm his length. It makes him feel so impossibly close to you and his brain melts and before you know it, he's snoring beneath you, his dick buried inside of you <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I hope you liked it! <3

More CoD and other works -> 💫

[rcmclachlan]

Thin Red Line (bucktommy, 6x11 missing scene)

Me: I'm rewatching "In Another Life" and had a thought. What if Buck met Tommy during his coma dream?

@dadvans: RC I’m going to kill you

+

Between leaving Christopher to wander the hospital hallways like a ghost in search of Eddie for all eternity and doing absolutely nothing to stop Bobby from popping pills like they’re Flintstones vitamins, Buck’s going to single-handedly bankroll every renovation project Dr. Copeland has over the next ten years. 

He wonders what she’ll say when he tells her about this during their next session. She’ll probably just sit back thoughtfully and muse, "You say you were trapped in a world where your biological family loved you but your chosen family had no idea who you were. Tell me more about that, Evan."

It's a moot point unless he manages to get out of here, so he swings the axe up, throws a sneer in his evil doppelgänger's direction, and is about to bring it down as hard as he can when his right arm is suddenly jerked behind him like someone’s trying to pull it out of the socket. 

Startled, he whirls around, but there’s no one there. Even Bizarro Buck is gone. 

An odd pressure tugs at his fingers. For a second, he thinks there’s something wrapped around them. He looks down but he can’t see anything. He can feel it, though. He tests the tensile strength of it by bouncing his hand back and forth, and whatever it is pulls taut when his hand gets close to his body. 

It reminds him of playing tug-o-war on the playground as a kid, except instead of deliberately allowing himself to be yanked off balance so his parents could later fuss over the bloody state of his knees, he begins gathering the palpable nothing in his palm and, with a last look at the tableau of the real him lying in the hospital bed waiting to die, follows it out of the room and back down the hall. 

He comes to a stop in front of a door that looks like all the others. He must’ve missed this one, although he can’t feel dumb about it, because there’s no way in hell he would’ve guessed this was the exit. 

"Take me home," Buck murmurs, opens the door, and walks out—

—onto an outdoor patio. 

He drops his head back with a groan. "Oh, come on."

With the wicker chairs and mind-numbingly navy umbrellas, it looks like every cafe’s outdoor seating situation in the state of California, right down to the almost oppressive number of ferns in beige planters shoved in between the tables. The only difference is that the place is completely empty. 

Correction: almost empty. 

Through the crush of the basic bitch jungle, he sees a solitary man seated at one of the tables, idly sliding a to-go cup from side to side with his big hands. As he draws a little closer, he’s able to clock the guy’s deep blue flight suit and what looks like the LAFD insignia on his arm.

Everyone who’s made an appearance in this weird-ass dream has been someone he knows. Even Daniel, who died before Buck ever met him, still made something stir with some kind of primordial recognition in Buck’s marrow the second he woke up and clapped eyes on him. He'd taken in the gray hair at high temples, the same nose Buck sees every time he looks in a mirror, the confident smile, and had just known who he was.

Buck has no idea who this guy is. He’s pretty sure he’d remember someone who looked like he bench presses actual benches in the morning and rushes off to be photographed for Men’s Health by lunch. 

As Buck comes up to the edge of the table, the man looks up at him, and the light of the sun catches his eyes. For a second, Buck’s back on the pier, gazing out into a cloudless sky stretched over the sea, but there’s no inhale of the earth, no oncoming wave. Just deep, Pacific blue. A slow smile spreads across the guy’s face, which takes him from unfairly handsome to utterly striking. 

"Hey."

A shiver starts from the very bottom tip of Buck’s spine and travels upwards like ripples on the surface of a lake, spreading out into all of his limbs until he can feel the eddies lapping at even the smallest arteries. For no cogent reason he can think of, his resting heart rate picks up until he’s flirting with full-on tachycardia. Maybe he’s about to code in the real world.

"H-Hey," Buck stutters, feeling caught out. "I—sorry, I’m—I’m a little turned around here."

The man gives him a look that’s both amused and commiserating, then picks up the drink cup he’d been playing table hockey with and holds it out. There's something thin and red tied around his ring finger, but Buck can't concentrate on it for some reason. It fades completely out of view every time he tries. "Want a sip? It’s the worst coffee you’ll ever taste."

It's said around what is clearly a laugh, but Buck doesn't feel like it's at his expense, plus it's so infectious that he can’t help but crack a grin. The muscles in his back, which feel like they've been locked for days, are finally starting to relax.

“If it’s so gross, why’d you get it?” Buck asks, genuinely curious.

The guy shrugs. "I didn't."

Nodding as if that makes any kind of sense, Buck looks around to see if the ferns are hiding anyone else, but it really does seem like there's no one else here. He turns back to the man, who's watching him with that deep, placid gaze. 

It's so strange. He'd been so desperate to find a way out of here, psyching himself up for a battle he was prepared to fight to the death in, but all he wants to do right now is grab the chair across from this stranger and just… let the clock run out.

He reaches for the back of the chair closest to him, but it jerks away with a screech. 

The guy unhooks his foot from the chair leg and, staring straight into Buck's eyes, shakes his head gently. 

Buck swallows around a suddenly dry throat. Under his feet, the patio stones tremble. "D-Do I know you?"

When the man smiles this time, the corners of his eyes crinkle, digging lines that run down his cheeks. Buck thinks of the picture Jee-Yun gave him last week of a beaming sun. She'd drawn deep yellow lines coming off it. Sun rays. 

"No," the man says, his voice as warm as a crayon drawing made with unconditional love. "Not yet."

He lifts his hand and this time Buck can see the little red string tied around his finger, and the long tail of the other end of it draped over the table top, which Buck follows the trail of, heart pounding, until it comes to a stop. He looks down to find the other end is tangled around the fingers of his own right hand. 

When he looks up, shaking and exhilarated, there's a door in the middle of the patio that swings open in obvious invitation. 

The man is no longer at the table, but there are suddenly lips at his ear. "See you soon, Evan."

Before he can close his eyes and sink into the hot wash of breath over his cheek, a large hand slides up to the middle of his back and shoves—

+

Buck knows he's being an absolute creep and Eddie won't stop giving him weird looks about it, but he can't help it. The pilot who's about to steal a helicopter for them has been nothing but friendly and confident, and he's currently wiring Buck up to his headset with brisk, competent hands, and all Buck can do is stare at him like he's got tonight's winning lottery numbers. 

Tom Kinard—"Tommy, please. Tom is my father, who I hate."—looks up from where he's bent a little at the knees, trying to get the microphone adapter to hook into Buck's belt, and shoots Buck an awkward grin. 

"Is there a spider in my hair or something?"

He hadn't realized how much tension he was putting into the air until Tommy cuts through it with that. Buck ducks his head and laughs, feeling like a dumbass. "Sorry, man. It's just—do I know you from somewhere? You look so familiar."

"Maybe I just have one of those faces," Tommy says, all good humor.

For Men's Health, maybe, Buck almost replies, then has to clench his teeth so it doesn't slip out by accident. What a weird thought to have. With his luck, Tommy would've taken it the wrong way and then abandoned the mission altogether. But even thinking it feels like a lie. Buck's known the guy for all of five minutes but he's oddly sure Tommy wouldn't leave them in the lurch because Buck feels the need to share every dumb thought that crosses his mind. 

"All right." Tommy stands up straight and steps back, but not before he gives Buck a friendly pat on the arm. "You're good to go."

Feeling oddly bereft, Buck says nothing as Tommy steps around him to where Chimney's been not so patiently waiting for his turn. 

"Sorry about him," Chim says, jerking a head in Buck's direction. "He was struck by lightning last year and hasn't been the same since. I mean, he was always annoying, but now he's just weird."

Buck deserves an Oscar for the fake outrage in his voice when he shoots back, "The view must be great from your glass house, Mr. I'm Dressing My Kid Up As A Ceiling Fan For Halloween," because the rest of him feels like it's in a tailspin. Every atom in his body is positively screaming for some reason. It's probably because they're all going to die. That makes the most sense.

When Tommy laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

Sun rays, Buck thinks nonsensically, and tangles the headset wire around the fingers of his right hand. 

+

Now on AO3!

[princessanonymous]

When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Previous Part | Next Part

First Chapter

10. 𝓐 𝓯𝓮𝔀 𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓐𝓰𝓸

She looked down. "Where are we going?" She repeated, desperate to change the subject.

He let go of her hand and reached into his coat to pull out two tickets that he handed her. After studying the writing on the tickets, (Y/n) looked up with a curious expression. "An art exhibition?"

He acquiesced with evident delight. "Indeed," he confirmed. "If fate is on our side, we might even be able to acquire some of the masterpieces on display."

She hummed in response, her interest not overly piqued, yet not repulsed by the prospect of the outing either. As they got off the carriage, the duke opened a sleek black umbrella as they walked the streets of London, a stark contrast against the backdrop of the setting sun casting an orange hue across the horizon.

"Aren't you protected by your ring?" she asked under her breath as she observed the scenery.

Passersby, less fortunate people, were looking at them with interest. There was something so striking about that. Here she was, dressed in lavish garments fit for royalty when all her life, she had simply been a peasant girl. Months ago, (Y/n) would have walked the same streets without anyone batting an eye.

"I am," he replied, revealing his adorned ring with a subtle flourish. "But the feeling of its rays against my skin is still unpleasant."

As they entered a grand beige building in the city, the duke gracefully presented their tickets to the attendant at the door. A quick survey of the room revealed a vast exhibition hall, bustling with people. They were all aristocrats, but as she observed everyone's mannerisms, (Y/n) became fairly certain that these men and women in elegant clothes were human.

A hopeful smile graced her face as her heart quickened its pace. This could be her chance to escape. Perhaps, she could scream for help. Yes, (Y/n) would scream for help at the top of her lungs and surely someone would come save her.

"He—" Before she could utter a sound, a hand was placed firmly over her mouth, stifling any attempt to scream. Panic surged within her, eyes widening with fear as the reality of her situation.

As she excitedly explored her first art exhibition, some onlookers shot her peculiar glances, but they refrained from commenting. In a gentle voice, the vampire remarked, "I understand this is your first art exhibition, but there is no need to express your excitement so loudly, dear." Speaking audibly for those nearby, he then leaned in, his lips nearly brushing her ear, and whispered, "There are about thirty humans here, most inexperienced in combat. I'd venture to say the odds are in my favor. Care to take the risk, my daughter? It could be an amusing game, though I'd hate to stain the exquisite art on display."

He paused before adding, "This is your second warning today, doll."

The air seemed to constrict as the weight of the vampire's words settled in, an unspoken tension lingering in the space between them. (Y/n) felt the chill that accompanied the subtle shift in atmosphere, a reminder of the power the vampire possessed. She tensed up at the second threat he had given her today and the vampire's hand retreated. (Y/n) bit back a snide remark, knowing retorting wasn't a good idea now.

Realizing she had no way of winning this time, the human continued on with the vampire who navigated the place, marveling at the paintings, drawings, and sculptures. The vampire occasionally lingered, absorbing the descriptions offered with an air of discerning appreciation.

Much to his dismay, most of them weren't for sales, still, the nobleman often tried to bargain and offer astronomical amounts of money for simple art pieces. (Y/n) huffed. With such wealth, her family could lead a life of comfort for generations. If they were still alive, she reminded herself bitterly.

"So much money," she commented in a hushed tone, her eyes flickering over the priceless pieces. "Is there some secret rule stating that vampires must be super wealthy?"

He laughed at that and shook his head. "No, but I would argue that any of us who isn't, simply is dimwitted," he admitted with a confident smile. "After all..."

He trailed off, seemingly having noticed something important. (Y/n) followed his gaze until it landed on a tableau—an inconspicuous painting, beautiful yet seemingly no different from the others. It depicted an old man, almost god-like with wings, holding a child's wings and attempting to remove them with a scythe. A grim sight, indeed, but it still didn't explain the vampire's peculiar interest.

"Saturn Clipping the Wings of Cupid," he whispered wistfully what appeared to be the name of the tableau.

"You got it right, good sir," announced the man next to the painting proudly. "From the late Ivan Akimov himself. The original."

The vampire hummed as he arched a sly brow. "Oh, is it really? " he asked with a look of interest.

The enthusiastic salesman nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes," he assured. "Only for 30 pounds*."

(Y/n), bug-eyed, stared at the price tag. It was expensive—too expensive for her comprehension. Her incredulity deepened when she witnessed the duke pull out his checkbook, seemingly unfazed by the ridiculous large sum.

"30 pounds for the original one does sound reasonable," the duke commented and the salesman smiled at that. However, the vampire's demeanor shifted as he paused and sneered, his tone cutting through the air. "But, a fake is worth nothing."

The salesman's face flushed a deep shade of red. "Are you insinuating that this is a fake?"

"Oh no, I am not insinuating anything," the vampire chuckled, shaking his head. But the humor dissipated rapidly, and his expression turned sour. "I am saying that people like you shouldn't dare enter these places to try to swindle money with mediocre copies."

Whispers and snide comments rippled through the bystanders as they watched the confrontation unfold. The salesman, now sweating bullets, struggled to maintain composure amid the growing anger. The salesman, now faced with the exposure of his deception, stammered incoherently, attempting to salvage what remained of his credibility. The onlookers, once drawn to the allure of the artwork, now regarded it with a newfound skepticism.

The vampire stepped forward, approaching the portrait to scrutinize it closely. (Y/n) just watched like all the others. "The scythe is too small," he critiqued, crossing his arms with an air of authority. "The beard isn't quite the right shade of grey, and any connoisseur of the arts of the era would notice the muscles aren't defined enough. This is a pathetic imitation."

The salesman practically leaped in rage towards the duke, his face contorted with fury. Yet, the vampire, possessing a supernatural grace and speed, effortlessly sidestepped the attack. The mansion's guards were summoned to intervene, ensuring that the confrontation didn't spiral into chaos.

The charlatan, now surrounded by vigilant guards in imposing uniforms, found himself escorted out of the grand estate. The vampire sent him one last disgusted glance. As the guards guided the disgraced salesman away, the vampire turned to face the onlookers, his demeanor shifting effortlessly. With a practiced charm, he sent a captivating smile to those who had witnessed the unraveling drama. It was as if he had performed a well-rehearsed act.

As the noblemen and women continued to admire the vampire aristocrat with fascination, (Y/n) couldn't suppress the twist of disgust within her. If only they knew what he truly was, their admiration would turn to fear and horror. All vampires were nothing more than monsters cloaked in a convincing human disguise, a disguise that concealed the horrifying nature that lurked beneath. His charismatic smile, the graceful movements, and the impeccable manners were a well crafted mask.

They left the grand estate shortly after the vampire had acquired something to his liking - an authentic tableau this time - for 40 pounds. The carriage passed through the evening landscape as they left the city and a chance for her to flee.

As they left in the carriage, (Y/n) couldn't help but voice a question she had. "You really remembered so many details about a specific painting?" she inquired.

He smiled, a reminiscing glint in his eyes. "Of course, I was there with Akimov at the time he was making it. It was around fifty years ago, I believe," he replied.

─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

*30 pounds at that time = 3651,90 pounds today = 4652,52 US Dollars

£1 in mid victorian era would cost £121.73 today according to what I've read. Don't quote me on that though. XD

Also, here is the painting mentioned.

[sumaneun-stars]

'One reason to stay'

Pairing. Jungwon x fem!reader

Genre. Best friends to lovers, fluff, angst, comfort

Warnings. Mentions of suicide, reader going through depression

Synopsis. You finally broke down- in front of your crush out of all people. Sigh.

You sat atop of a large rock which lay on the many other rocks- overlooking the sea. You admired the golden tinted water which moved back and forth in steady waves, slowly swallowing the radiant sun.

The scene switched to a dark misty forest. You wore a beige flowy dress, hair tied to a half ponytail with little green accessories decorating it. You ran to the source of light a few meters away to spot a small pond which was framed by algae covered white stone benches. Small creepers which bore light purple flowers entangled with the legs of the benches, with little green butterflies fluttering their wings around them.

You opened your eyes to disappointing, depressing reality. You found yourself sitting on the carpeted floor, your head resting on one of the couch cushions. Your eyes were drained out from the number of tears which flowed out not many moments ago. Your lips were dry and your skin was pale- with dark lines circling your worn out, sleepy eyes.

The world is not a nice place to live in. It was drowning you slowly- except it didn't let you die. Assignments and homework piled up on your shoulders- and exams dropped like a boulder on your head. You didn't mind falling off a cliff considering the fact that you're dying anyways. But there was one thing which made you not want to leave. 

One reason to make you stay.

You heard the faint sound of the door unlocking, thinking it was one of your friends because your phone was on silent for days.

"Y/n?" You heard a soft voice call.

You then saw the blurred figure run towards you. He knelt down to your level. "Y/n? What's wrong? Why are you so pale?" he asked- holding your face with his warm hands. You smiled at him, but your eyes told a different story. You looked down, trying to hide the redness of your face.

His eyebrows dropped, making his face show nothing but concern. 

"Hey, look at me," he said, his voice lower than a whisper. He raised your head up to meet your eyes. 

"I don't like it here" you mumbled through your pouting lips.

"Why?" He asked, caressing your hair in hopes to comfort you.

Your lips trembled and your eyes became teary. You dropped your head on his shoulder- and he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you. You sobbed softly into his sweater as he carried you to the couch slowly. He sat on the ground, his hand still cupping your face wiping your hot tears.

"You wanna talk about it?" He asked.

You shook your head, making him whisper a tiny 'okay'.

Jungwon was your best friend, at least you were for him. Ever since you first set your eyes on his contagious smile, in the midst of about 5 to 6 people in the classroom, you fell hard. You thought it was a mere crush, until he walked up and spoke to you, lighting up your dark and misty perspective of life. Except you weren't the only girl in his life, or else that's what you thought. Silly little you, of course he likes popular girls with bright smiles and pretty faces- you remind yourself everyday. But little did you know, he felt just the same butterflies as you did when you looked at him.

After a few minutes, he brought you back to his lap, letting you sob into his shirt.

“Y/n” he started. “Life is hard, I agree. But I swear you're the strongest person I've ever seen, this'll be a piece of cake, alright?” He ended with a smile. He looked confused, and looked like he was trying so hard, making you chuckle a little.

“What? I know I'm a horrible therapist, you don't need to say it out loud” he rolled his eyes.

“Noo” you replied, giving him a smile that didn't reach your eyes. 

If only you could kiss those lips, it would solve all your problems even for a little while. A boulder off your shoulders, a plaster on your wounded heart, an umbrella from the blazing sun.

He shifted a bit, before pursing his lips and humming to himself in thought. He was in a dilemma, by the looks of it. He reached out to his bag lying beside him, a tiny smile forming in his lips. He took out a lollipop, orange flavored to be specific, your favorite. You gasped. 4 years of running towards the candy section to search for the orange flavored lollipops but it was always out of the market.

“They brought it back?” You exclaimed, making him instantly laugh at your change of expression.

“Mhm” he nodded his head.

“Thank you so much!” You wrapped your arms around him, expecting to stay like that for a while before he parted the hug. It upsetted you slightly, but of course, there should be a reason for it.

“Well…” he started, scratching the back of his neck. He looked- nervous. “I'm not good with words, so I wrote it down” he said as he dug his pockets, and finally took out an unevenly folded piece of paper with a smiley face drawn on the blank side of it.

You were about to unfold it, until he took your hands in his, closing the paper back again. He smiled giddily, before taking the strap of his bag and rushing out of the room. You were left in confusion, but was soon snapped back into reality when his face appeared once again.

“I'll walk slowly so you can catch up after reading it” he said before giving you a bright smile and leaving the room.

You unfolded the piece of paper, to be met with his usual messy, ant-sized handwriting. It had ink marks in the corners of the paper, clearly showing that it was accidentally drawn while he was spinning his pen.

‘Uhh well, hi! It's me, Jungwon. Let's get right to it, shall we? 

I can't really describe this, but I'll try. I used to think I knew happiness, and that smiling could only be formed intentionally, a command from my brain or heart- until I met you. Crazy, right? You didn't even smile that often at me, but I found myself giggling and smiling every time I saw you. Over time, I realized I couldn't spend a day without drifting away in thoughts about you. Daydreams and imaginary scenarios which were once starred by me and a really pretty celebrity, got replaced by me and you. You, you and you. Everything is about you. My world now revolves around you. I see you in clouds and sand, even in plain sight! Sometimes I think I'm crazy! Y/n, I'm obsessed with you. It's almost unhealthy. Every little thing you do makes my heart beat faster than the speed of light. The way your eyes turn into rainbows everytime it rains, the way you can't laugh without snorting, the way you walk like a penguin, the way you can't hold your laughter in a serious situation; they all make me feel lighter than a cloud. Y/n, I sorta, kinda, maybe, might, slightly, possibly be in love with you. No- I am in love with you. 

Hurry! I might be still waiting outside, it's freezing! Hug me if you accept my heart by the way ♡’

You found yourself crying once more, not in sadness, but pure joy. Without any hesitancy, you grabbed your coat and ran out of your apartment. You ran as fast as possible towards the bakery you two shared most memories with, to find him sitting on a bench, head down and back crouched.

He raised his head up to the sound of your footsteps and panting, a smile as bright as the sun forming on his face soaked with tears. He stood up, feeling slightly dizzy from the tears shed not long ago. You didn't hesitate to wrap your arms around him, tears of joy exploding into his chest. You looked up at his mixed expression.

“Were you crying?” You asked as you wiped the tears off his face, chuckling at his state.

“I was scared you wouldn't come,” he mumbled, before snuggling his head into the nape of your neck.

“But I did,” you said, your voice low.

He raised his head up, staring at you until you pressed your lips to his. His face was in pure shock, before he connected his lips with yours once again. You felt him smile into the kiss, making your heart explode into a thousand butterflies.

Funny, how a single person can lift a truck's worth of problems off another's shoulders. Your mind which was once filled with nothing but plans to leave behind your melancholic life, was paused by a single piece of paper. It was him all along, the answer to your never ending mystery of life. 

Him, the one and only reason to make you stay.

End.

A/n: Comfort for us depressed/delulu hoomans<3

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 0.2

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

4th December

Barcelona, Spain

"Are you sure we won't get caught?"

Cassandra's hushed concern laced with irrational excitement got Taehyung snicker under his breath. He briefly glanced over his shoulder, seeing her wonderous gaze as she was leaning in to try catching a glance of what he was doing.

"Not if you keep watching for any prying eyes," he countered with a smirk, causing her to mumble a muffled 'okay' into her scarf and returning to stand guard as she trusted him for some naive reason. And he continued shortwiring the alarm system.

Her eyes briefly wandered down to the colourful beige-brown-yellow pattern of wet tiles beyond the canopy, which covered the backyard of Casa Batlló. Quickly heaving them again to look around into the rainy afternoon, ensuring no one was seeing them indeed.

Usually the building and the integrated museum were open till late, 10pm, every day. However, that day and the next it was supposed to be closed for some minor renovations. Cassandra had mindlessly mentioned that as the two had passed by in search for a place to await the rain. Neither one having an umbrella. She hadn't expected him suggesting to break in, knowing it was one of her favourite buildings in the city, clearly joking and not actually meaning it. And she surely hadn't expected herself to agree despite knowing it was all tongue-in-cheek.

Feeling an unknown thrill and rush while standing there behind the fence now, shielding his thievery skills while he worked on the rather simple security system - as he claimed.

"Thought your friend was the master thief," she giggled then over her shoulder before redirecting her focus to their surroundings.

Taehyung only huffed at this. "Doesn't mean I don't have some aces up my sleeve, too." A cocky smirk audible in his voice.

A shiver crept up under her pink woollen coat then and she wondered if he wasn't cold at all with his rather thin coat, which was even left unbottoned. Simply unable to comprehend how someone wouldn't feel the need for a scarf in the with humidity spiked coldness of the city.

It was the middle of winter after all, also meaning it got dark earlier and the rainy clouds surely quickened the process. They still got some time left though. Which unfortunately also meant someone could still see them, despite the possibility being low considering the downpour.

Besides, Cassandra was also uncertain if all the other neighbouring buildings weren't inhabited like this one. She knew the one on the right was something like a parfum museum. The ones on the left looked a lot like office buildings. But the rest around the backyard? No clue.

Before she could voice any of her concerns, however, she heard Taehyung's triumphant cheer. And he got up from the electrical panel, cracking open the backdoor with ease. Holding it wide open for her to hurry inside and observed all nervousness wash away from Cassandra's face the further inside they stepped. Her brown irises big while they looked around the colourful tiles and curves. Their footsteps echoing against them in the empty silence.

"Come, this way!" she beamed with excitement while gripping her backpack tighter and he followed her through the posh dining room to a corridor, until they reached the entrance hall.

The place evoked an underwater environment with its white and light blue. They began climbing up the staircase then, past the lightwell which distributed the air and light that entered through the main skylight on top. Also completely covered in tiles of shades of blue, with more intense colour in the upper part and lighter tiles at the bottom.

There was a strangeness to seeing all those high-built exhalted rooms and spaces deprived of any presence and noise but theirs.

Eventually they reached the top and the entrance to the roof terrace.

It sounded like the rain had stopped by now, the clouds having wandered further away to another city part. But since they were already there, might as well take advantage of it. So she let him take over again, allowing him to pick the roof door's lock.

The roof terrace was dominated on each end by what was popularly known as the dragon's back, which characterised the facade and had been represented with different coloured tiles. However, the main focal point of the terrace were the four crooked and polychrome chimney stacks.

The rooftops of all the other buildings around the blocks visible beyond them. Bathed in a warm hue by the low winter sun that peeked through the now clearing clouds.

Everything glistening wet, reflecting its rays.

"I've never been here with no other people around," she said, taking in the view in awe. Not paying attention to the slippery ground, she'd have landed on the cold tiles if it wasn't for Taehyung's quick reaction. Grabbing her arm and holding onto her tightly.

"Careful, clumsy fellow."

She blushed at his teasing grin. "Y-yeah, thanks."

There were a few chairs scattered around for visitors and they settled for a couple under a porch, spared from the rain. And Taehyung's eyes widened when watching Cassandra unpack a small drawing pad and a pencil. Seeing her beginning sketching on her lap.

It didn't happen often, but there were periods she really got into this often overlooked interest of hers. Overlooked since studying and working had taken up most energy in the past. Not leaving much for anything else. So she tried picking it up again whenever she could, carrying her pad and pencil wherever she went.

He peeked on her paper, seeing the rough outline of the skyline and the roof taking shape on it. And he pursed his lips. "You draw?"

"Mh, a bit. Sometimes."

"Do you have a spare piece of paper?"

Arching a brow at him briefly, she nodded and heaved hers to tear off another one for him. Offering him a pencil as well, which he accepted with a smile.

Her eyes caught a glimpse of calluses on his palm and index finger. From a gun, she concluded.

"You draw, too?" she asked then, adjusting the thick beanie on her head before glancing back down to her drawing pad.

"Hardly. But figured I could pick it up again instead of sitting here idle," he explained with a small shrug and started doodling. "Don't expect anything grand though."

she laughed under her breath. "Neither should you."

They grew quiet with only their scribbling pencils and the passing cars down on the street audible. Until Taehyung took out his phone and a mellow jazz song began accompanying them instead. And Cassandra stole a glance at him.

Over the course of the past three months, he'd tended to stop by in between of breaks from heists. He said it was because he loved the city and perhaps that was true. But she couldn't help and secretly hope it was partially for her, too.

He was still somewhat a stranger in some aspects. And a friend in others. One of these friends you only met once in awhile and yet, it didn't feel weird or awkward. Making her wonder if she would also still get along like this with her actual old friends from highschool and medical school.

And in an odd way, Taehyung felt the same strange familiarity with the young doctor. Cassandra was like a childhood friend.

When he was with her, he didn't feel like an internationally wanted thief, but rather like a normal and perhaps even good person.

She made him forget about what he was when being away from her. And in some naive way he wanted to cling onto that, for as long as possible at least.

After all, they had barely known each other and yet, while spending afternoons together just strolling around, it felt always easy. Effortlessly. At some point they'd even reached the beach, only then realising how they'd had walked up all the way there without noticing. They could always talk about anything and have fun.

Cassandra didn't know she wasn't the only one finding comfort in that.

Much to her dismay, however, they couldn't talk about everything as Taehyung would never tell her any stories from his heists with Jimin and Yoongi.

He lied that it'd be a thief's codex not to speak with an outsider about it, when in reality he simply didn't want her to judge or be scared of him.

He had this justified paranoia that a woman like her wouldn't want to have anything to do with someone like him if she knew any details. After all, he still couldn't fathom the fact she hadn't already run away from the very beginning when knowing what he was.

And besides, him not letting her in on his criminal life would be better in any case. For both of them.

"May I ask something?" she spoke up then, after tucking a coppery curl behind her ear that had gone astry by the breeze high up there. Hearing him hum, she gathered her courage and proceeded. "How did you become a thief? I mean.. did you wake up one day and thought 'yep, that's what I wanna do'?"

It was something she'd always wondered but never dared to mention. However, the sight of his hand reminded her of it again. So she decided to attempt coaxing some info out of him at least. Anything.

Cassandra's unapologetic curiosity made Taehyung burst out laughing, genuinely entertained by her. However, she mistook it for mockery and only pouted.

"Don't tell me if you don't want to. But stop making fun of me," she mumbled awkwardly.

He quickly shook his head, though, stifling another bubbling chuckle. "No, no. It's alright. I don't mind. Just didn't expect that sudden question."

She only hmpf-ed, focusing on her sketch. "So?"

"Well.." he began then scratching his head while contemplating how to explain it, "It's definitely not that I woke up one day and decided to be one. It just.. happened."

Cassandra only shot him a funny look. "Like.. you just tripped and fell into it?"

Wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes again and he bit back another chuckle. Getting the reference.

The cold wind picked up anew, tousling his hair and making Cassandra's body grow stiff for a moment.

"Kinda.. remember Jimin?"

"Of course," she nodded, "How could I forget that cute face."

"Cute face, huh?" he huffed out a laugh, "Don't let him hear that, his ego is already out of proportion."

She giggled, nodding. "Noted. So, what's with him?"

Taehyung sighed into the wind. His pencil pausing for a brief second. "It is a long story.."

"We got time," she shrugged, erasing a part and sketching it again, "But if you don't wanna.."

"I mean.. it's not easy to explain." He lowered the volume of his phone then. "I mean, why did you decide to be a physician?"

"Oh."

She glanced up at him, seeing his mischievious grin which caused her to huff out amused.

So that was how he wanted to play.

"In my case it wasn't anything special, though," she shrugged and went back to her drawing, "I like helping people and I love biology. And I'm interested in how things work. How these different organs and cells interact together." A small smile formed on her lips as the pencil glided over the thick piece of paper. "Between all the subjects and things that interested me, this was the one holding more meaning to me, you know? So yeah.. That was my reason. Nothing too special, really."

Taehyung observed her with a fond smile, finding her reason rather noble than as simple as she made it sound. Returning to his doodles then.

"Not the money or prestige?" he teased then, making her scoff in fake-offence.

"Please, if I wanted just money and prestige I could've studied economics or finances or something like that. Would've been way easier than all the nights studying anatomy and metabolic deseases. Believe me."

He hummed amused.

Of course he knew there was a big portion of doctors doing it for the wrong reasons, but he'd never believed her belonging to them. She just didn't strike him as such a superficial person, even if his analysing skills weren't as advanced as Jimin's, he believed that he reckoned up her character pretty well at least. And he was glad he was proven right.

The setting sun bathed everything in a sepia light. The atmosphere warm and bright despite the crisp temperature.

Although the anew dark clouds nearing from the south did concern her.

"Now it's your turn," she smirked and looked up to the afternoon view to catch more details. Planning to engrave the golden colours of the atmosphere into her memory to add them at home.

Taehyung hummed, scratching his neck with the back of the pencil while contemplating. "Well, for you to understand I have to explain my upbringing I guess," he exhaled almost in defeat then and sat back. Allowing his eyes to wander over the grey rooftops. "My earliest memories consist of a skyscraper in Mumbai, where my father brought me along to a meeting with a 'client'. I was only five back then." He paused, chewing the inside of his cheek as he chose his next words. "My dad.. he did business with shady people, so you could say the apple never falls far from the tree." A hollow laugh left his lips at the irony and he drew an abstract cartoon face. "Hence why he also taught me how to shoot a gun from an early age. I still remember when he did for the first time."

Cassandra only nodded, listening intently. She wanted to allow him opening up fully. "So it's save to assume you must be pretty good with a gun," she said instead.

Her assumptions proven correctly when she saw him nod, sighing.

"Don't wanna brag, but I'm a pretty good marksman. Yeah." His gaze fell.

It wasn't like he ever felt exceptionally proud of his remarkable skills, in fact, he was always quite indifferent about them. However, telling her about them now made an unusual nervousness rise inside him. Fearing her judgement.

"Anyway," he composed himself then, "So you can say my dad wasn't necessarily father of the year, but besides teaching me how to shoot and taking me along to business trips, he was alright and took care of me. But since we travelled and moved a lot and I never got to stay at a place for too long. Which kinda sucked."

A scowl crossed her featured. "Oh, what about school or friends?"

"I had to constantly change schools and always had to leave the friends I found behind."

"That sounds.. hard," she sighed, giving him a look of empathy.

And he nodded as an old Sinatra classic began playing, distracting him for a moment. He ran his hand through his messy waves then. "Yeah.. but it didn't last for too long, so it's okay. Really. When I turned thirteen my dad left me at my grandparents and disappeared, so.. I was able attending school frequently after all."

At this, Cassandra perked up again. Brows furrowed in confusion how he brushed over that grave information so easily. "W-what? He disappeared?"

Taehyung only shrugged nonchalantly. Masking the still lingering hurt and confusion. "Y-yeah.. The only thing I have left of him is his Magnum. He gave it to me before leaving. And I still have it, carrying it around wherever I go."

He knew that he didn't have to tell her all this, but he felt like doing it anyway. Although it wasn't something he talked about often. Or ever.

The only people who knew were his two closest and only friends, and perhaps Seokjin and his interpol agents if they had done their work correctly. However, he hoped that knowing his backstory would at least help her understand it better. And perhaps prevent her from judging him too much.

But Cassandra wasn't judging him. Rather the opposite.

She folded her lips at this, quietly processing his words. And all of a sudden a deep sadness spread inside her instead. The quiet background music coming from his phone emphasising the lingering heaviness.

Obviously she'd already assumed that his life and upbringing most likely hadn't been all sunshine and rainbows - whose really were anyway - but she hadn't expected it to be so sombre. Despite him trying brushing it off and not dissembling it. She could still tell it was a baggage he carried with him by the dullness clouding his usually bright eyes.

"Mh, it's a memento of your father," she concluded then with a nod, more to herself than him. "And that's why you became a thief?"

"No, not really. But it's what pathed the way for me, I guess," he snickered. The laugh not reaching his eyes. And her lips parted but before she could say anything more, he continued. "What eventually made me a thief was when I met Jimin, the most annoying, insufferable and sly skirt chaser at school," he sighed, chuckling under his breath. It was genuine amusement this time. "But he was also the most loyal and reliable friend I ever had."

At this, Cassandra couldn't help but coo, averting her focus from her sketch to look at him with crescent-shaped eyes. "You two are childhood friends, that's so lovely."

Taehyung smiled at her reaction. Finding it unexpected but also endearing. "Yeah, we were school friends. But not right from the start. To me he was just a rebellious and entitled lil' rich brat, a real trouble-maker. I preferred hanging out with the other kids or staying by myself."

She could tell he was holding back a nostalgic laugh and she smiled. "Sounds like a handful," she agreed, "But you still ended up becoming friends."

He scoffed, folding his arms. "I was kinda forced, to be honest. He saw me having a gun one day and then dragged us into a shootout all because he was into that woman - who was at least ten years older than us, mind you." Now getting genuinely upset when recalling the incident at the bar two 13-year-olds didn't have any business to be at. Adding with a frustrated breath, "This idiot never thinks when he sees a pretty girl and the rest of us have to carry the can for it." He shook his head then. "Anyway, I ended up becoming friends with him. We hung up and since thievery ran in Jimin's blood - it was literally his family-business - he began being on the fiddle. And I ended up helping him. And as we grew older it went from robbing liquor to banks to museums and art galleries to.. well, to actual treasures around the world. And on the way, we met Yoongi who joined us. That's the story, I guess."

Cassandra breathed out an astonished "wow", eyes gaping at him in a short silence. "That's.. an intense story," a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of her lips, "Are you sure you didn't steal that from a film plot?"

He laughed as well, looking down at his three caricatures. "I wished."

The dark blanket of clouds she had noticed earlier had come threateningly closer by now. Covering the right side of the sky completely, while the rest also had a fair amount of smaller, lighter clouds. Still not enough to completely cover it there, though, leaving enough space for the colorful sky to peak through when a more upbeat song began playing.

"You know, it's kinda funny," Cassandra said then, making him perk up. He noticed her lips curled into a small ambiguous smile. Eyes resting on the skyline before going back to her drawing. "We're so different, you and me. But our upbringings still ended up having some similarities."

He was intrigued by this. "Like what?"

She picked another pencil, a thicker one compared to the one she had sketched the buildings in. "My parents are nature photographers, you know, always been travelling around the world. Still do. I barely see them, only when they visit me once every one or two months. And back in the days, they'd take me with them to all the far places," she explained," My earliest memories are of myself chasing pigeons on the Plaza de la Catedral in Havana when I was merely four years old. I remember it vividly. It was a lively, colourful place. I'd like to revisit one day." The ambiguousness in her expression now replaced with nostalgia. "And then when I was old enough to attend school, they left me with my grandparents. Just like you, I grew up with them and suddenly I had something like a stable life. But my parents would still take me with them during holidays, so I still got to travel."

Perhaps that was why to this day, something inside her remained unsettled so she took any chance she got to travel somewhere. Whether it was during her medical internships or for vacations.

The two exchanged a look, holding each other's gaze with a smile of mutual understanding.

The similarity of their childhoods consisting of constant travelling with no real sense of 'home' up until a certain age, was comforting in a way. Although their circumstances being clearly unlike, to know there was someone else with similar experience and upbringings was maybe what really bonded them in the end, despite living so vastly different lives.

They continued sketching in a comfortable silence then. 

The sun neared the mountains in the distance and the golden hue of the atmosphere soon became darker. The clouds which had now covered most of the sky above them, reflecting the disappearing sun's orangy gleam. Bright, fluffy clouds on their right contrasting dark heavy ones on their left. The sky looking like straight out of the renaissance paintings in a museum. And both stared at it in awe.

Cassandra took another paper out and began a new sketch. Hatching harsher shadows on the buildings and clouds. Trying her best to capture the dramatic picturesque view in front of her. And Taehyung observed her silently, admiring the pure concentration in her face.

Soon the darker ones absorbed more of the yellow sky in their purple shades. The sun hidden by now. Only the smaller becoming gleam behind the buildings letting them assume where it was- With pink cotton candy clouds in the far north contrasting the shades of blue around them. Only half an hour later, the sun had set completely. Leaving the buildings standing dark against the still dimly coloured sky. 

Another brisk breeze passed by then and she shivered, causing her tho almost smudge the sketch.

"Are you cold?" Taehyung wondered out loud, making her frown.

"Of course. Aren't you?"

He shrugged, shoving his hands into his coat's pockets. Not because he was cold but out of habit. "Not really, no."

"You may not feel it, but your body might become hypothermic if you're not careful."

He hummed.

"You should definitely dress warmer. Put on a scarf of something."

"Is that a doctor's advice?" he smirked and she puffed out a laugh.

"It's actually a doctor's order."

"Oh, is that so?" His brows rose. Finding her lecturing tone quite amusing as it was contrasting her otherwise gentle and bubbly demeanor. "I should follow it then."

She knew he wasn't taking her serious, but she had done her duty and warned him. It was up to him if he listened or not.

"I like this song," she said then, motioning with her chin to his phone. His brows rose as his gaze fell on it. 'Unforgettable' by Nat Kind Cole was playing. And he couldn't help but beam at her. "So do I."

A tiny waterdrop landed on the back of her hand then. And another one. She looked up, seeing the purple clouds now hanging low above them. Stretching all the way to the pastel pink coloured north side. Another waterdrop landed on her cheek and she realised those weren't normal waterdrops but actual raindrops.

Taehyung had also noticed them, holding the palm of his hand against them. "I think it's raining again."

As soon as he said that, more and more drops fell abruptly from the sky and Cassandra cursed under her breath. Quickly packing up and shoving everything into her backpack. And they hurried inside, following the stairs back downstairs.

They could hear the rain picking up on volume, pattering loudly against the glass of the skylight and the windows.

The stairs led them to the house's main living room, which despite the large picture window that formed a gallery onto the rain-covered main street, was left in an eery atmosphere due to the lack of light. The huge oak doors and the wavy ceiling only adding to this.

Cassandra sat down on the floor in front of the gallery window taking off her beanie. A sigh escaping her lips when seeing the rain pouring down harsher, becoming more violent. Turning into a downright cloudburst. "And I was thinking about taking my umbrella with me, but of course I didn't.."

"I bet it's just another short downpour, it'll be over soon," Taehyung said, taking a seat next to her and resting his arms on his angled legs. He motioned to her backback then. "Are your drawings okay?"

Her eyes grew wide, only now remembering them. She zipped open her backpack, taking out her drawing pad and flipping threw the pages. They seemed alright, no wavy edges, no blurred or dissorted lines. And she sighed in relief. "Yeah, they seem fine."

Suddenly the pad was tucked out of her grip and she watched Taehyung's eyes intently browsing over them as well. His brows knitting lightly, making her wonder what he was thinking about.

"You said not to expect much, but these are incredible," he said then with a straight face, handing her the pad back. Cassandra blinked, hesitatedly accepting it and stuffing it back into her bag.

"I mean.. they were rather casually drawn.. but thanks," she mumbled, not really taking the compliment serious. Knowing they weren't her best works considering their rushed nature and it'd been awhile since she'd last drawn.

Taehyung only eyed her for a moment and shrugged, resting his gaze on the streams of water flowing down the gallery window in front of them. "Sure, but you still captured the atmosphere and contrasts well. I like them."

At this she bit back a genuine smile.

"Oh, well thank you then." She playfully nudged his arm with a wiggle in her brows. "Didn't know you were such an 'art connoisseur'."

He laughed under his breath, sensing she only wanted to distract from the blush on her cheeks. And he let her.

"You know, we've not only stolen jeweles and artefacts. Sometimes we steal paintings, too. Some knowledge must've brushed off on me."

Nodding, she hummed. Eyes joining his in watching the heavy growing rain outside. "What paintings did you steal?"

"Some Manet's, some Rembrandt's, an El Greco.." he mused, "You know, all these portraits they've painted made me realise one thing.."

Intrigued, she peeked at him. "And what?"

He faced her with a lopsided grin. "That I'd like having one myself. Like one of these sleazy rich guys. To put it over my fireplace or something."

Cassandra couldn't help but burst out laughing. "Do you even have a fireplace?"

His grin widened. "I don't even have my own house," he said, laughing along with her now over his own absurdity, "But one day, one day I will."

And they sat there shoulder to shoulder, watching the storm pass by. For a brief second he thought about taking his phone out again before deciding against it. Somehow preferring listening to the pit-a-pat of the rain instead.

»»»

next chapter: 0.3 here

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[lewkwoodnco]

love to think you’ll never forget - lockwood x reader

bruised eyes. vacant smile. stitch through her gums like a promise.

a/n: decided to try a few new things to get out of my writing slump! this is a lil blurb set a little after the call w lucy in chap 3, the ntwdt chapter (so this is smth like ch 3.5) of my 1989 vault series. as you can tell by the slut! lyric from the title we're kind of backpedalling a lil to the vibe of the first chapter, but with more details and in kind of a flashback-y way

tropes/warnings: angst, yearning, tw blood, slight descriptions of injury/violence, reader bandaging lockwood up, mildly ooc lockwood (im SORRY blame taylor swift)

word count: 2.5k!

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 3.5 | Ch 4 | Ch 5

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

She was sitting at the ancient, tiny piano that had come with her apartment. It was mostly out of tune, and more than a few keys were quite piercing, but with little else to do outside of work, she enjoyed letting her fingers mender over it. This evening, however, she was feeling a little blue - a little fevered with the onslaught of memories. 

A certain kind of desperation had taken hold of her, an indignation over everything that had happened when she had loved him so much for so long. Her fingers had a slight tremble, but it was barely noticeable in the sparsely played chords. There was a glass of water casting marbled images of light on the beige walls. The sun had set far too early, as always, and now the room's only source of light came from the worn brick fireplace.

It reminded her of this one night at Portland Row when the four of them were having a late-night supper, curled up together in the library. As the hours went by, Lucy and George eventually retired to their rooms, but the two of them stayed. In the flickering light, Lockwood had been more than easy on the eyes. She was feeling pleasantly warm, and it had been a sleepy night, but the both of them still refused to go to bed. A moment later, she decided that it was just chilly enough to share a blanket with Lockwood. 

It made her giddy, the feel of his arm casually draped over her shoulders, the kind of feeling you got at a sleepover you never wanted to end. They talked about everything silly and mundane - anything to stretch the night a moment further. Despite her best efforts, her eyelids started to grow heavy. When she woke, she was wrapped up in the blanket, alone. And yet, her only regret was not staying awake for just a minute longer.

She didn’t known what she was doing then. She didn’t know what she was doing now. She’d always had the rather unfortunate habit of being tragically oblivious.

It had been simpler in the beginning. They may have shared a few lingering glances while on joint cases, but for a frustratingly long time, their time together began and ended with their jobs. That was, until one rainy afternoon when Lockwood ran into her waiting outside DEPRAC headquarters. He had just dropped off some long overdue paperwork and walked out to find her peering at the road from the edge of the building's awning.

"Terrible weather, isn't it?"

She jumped, but almost instantly relaxed when she saw who it was. His tone was exaggeratedly casual, and she pressed her lips together to stifle her smile. "S'pose."

"Waiting for a cab?"

She nodded glumly, looking up and down the empty street as the rain beat down even harder, threatening to crack the asphalt.

"Not having much luck?"

She pulled a face and shook her head. Lockwood's hand dove into his quote, and straightened his arm a moment later, pulling out an elegant, black umbrella.

"Live far?" He kept his voice light, turning his gaze to the road with a carefully rehearsed air of nonchalance. She knew she wasn't the easiest person to spend time with, given how tense the tabloids made her already flighty personality. So it was moments like these that tugged at her heart. It was moments like these that made her feel like he cared.

"I appreciate it, Lockwood, but I couldn't walk home with you."

"Why not? Don't want me knowing where you live?"

"Not if you're going to set my house on fire."

His lips twitched, and she smiled with a faux innocence.

"Sheen Road, tragedy that it was, was not my fault."

"That's not what Lucy says."

"Lucy says a lot of things."

"Something about missing equipment."

"...damn, she's got me there." He opened the umbrella with a flourish and raised it an inch above their heads. "Ready?"

She paused, looking at him expectantly, as if waiting for some divine intervention to tell her otherwise. When it didn't come, she stepped underneath the umbrella, and the fingers of his other hand slipped into hers, casual as ever. They walked with their clasp hands smothered between the folds of their coats, but they themselves were pressed impossibly close to each other. It made her butterfly heart beat impossibly fast.

They reached her home too quickly, even though it was a sizeable distance from the DEPRAC headquarters. She glanced at Lockwood's face apprehensively while she fitted the key into her door.

"I hope I haven't led you too far from home."

"It's no trouble."

"I'll bring my own umbrella next time."

"Or don't. I don't mind." What is wrong with you, she wanted to ask. She could feel the amused way he was looking at her, the mild yet firm edge to his gaze. That was the annoying thing about Lockwood - his presence demanded to be felt, not that he was the demanding type.

It had been easier to fall into him when they were comfortably distant when she wasn't so invested. It was downright beautiful, how romantic he could frame their endeavours. But then came a stronger, more forceful undercurrent to their relationship. It made him snippish, or deliberately obtuse, and it made her clam up while she internally unravelled pathetically. She kept wanting to stand up, to get her bearings, but wave after wave knocked her down until she felt herself giving in to the cruel whips of the unforgiving sea.

And yet, none of it stung as much as the thought of Lockwood feeling like he couldn't turn to her.

One night, she had needed to drop off some files at Portland Row for George, who had been helping them research for one of their cases. It was late, but she could see a dim light switched on in the front hallway, and she wouldn't be inconveniencing them long. She knocked thrice, watching the shadowy figure behind the frosted glass take an awfully long time to reach the door. It cracked open, and a worn face peered out.

"...Y/N?"

Lockwood's voice was hoarse, and something about it rubbed her the wrong way. Despite her growing unease, she tried to put it down to not having seen him the past few weeks.

"I don't mean to intrude, I just wanted to hand these to George. Is he - what is wrong with your face?!"

Lockwood had cracked the door open a little more to stick his hand out for the files, revealing a bruised eye and a badly scratched face. He winced at her raised voice, shushing her in alarm.

"Keep it down, you'll wake the rest. I'll pass these on to George, no worries. Good night, now."

"Did you get into a fight?"

"Uh, no. Is that all?"

She shoved the door open, catching him by surprise. He instinctively shielded his forearm, but not before she could see that it was bleeding. She was speechless. A few minutes later, she had him cornered at the kitchen table with their first aid kit, muttering furious threats under her breath.

"What happened?"

"You can't tell George or Lucy."

She swiped his sleeve to his elbow fiercely, leaving the small strip of unharmed skin stinging. She regretted it a moment later when she winced at the sight of the thin layer of flesh carved out of his forearm.

"I'm serious. You'd invoke a mutiny."

She clearly didn't take to his poor attempt at a joke, so the wry smile slipped off his face, his expression turning grim. "I haven't told them yet, but we received a case a few days back. Pays an insane amount."

"What's the catch?"

He grimaced. "Apparently, running around with the likes of Winkman's men."

"Lockwood!"

"In my defence, I was doing very well until I got whacked in the head. No, listen - you can't fault a guy for getting whacked in the head - "

"I'm going to whack you in the head myself in a minute -"

"I didn't think you'd be interested."

She was quiet, after that. The rest of the cleaning and dressing of the wound passed by in a blur, and the only thing she really remembered was how devastated she felt. Though she wouldn't be interested? Of course she was interested. He could drive her up the wall all day long and she would still be interested. How could he think she wouldn't? It was horrible - she was furiously blinking back tears, and she could tell Lockwood felt horrible for saying anything in the first place. It was an overall terribly unpleasant experience. Lockwood awkwardly tried to break the ice.

"I...I bruise easy. Ever since I was a kid. Drove my mum mad."

The edge to her movements softened a little at the mention of his mother, but she didn't respond.

"I got out alive, didn't I?"

"Barely."

"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry."

"Easy for you to say."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He was so fragile in her hands. It ached her. She let out a strangled noise from her throat, her voice overcome with emotion. 

"When I first saw - I just - terrified. I was so...terrified to see you like that. I'm scared all the time, Lockwood. I'm scared for you. I'm scared you'll die one day and I won't know until I get some stupid postcard from someone kind enough to keep me as an afterthought."

He covered her hand with his, and she held his face using the hand with ointment on the finger. Something to remind her that none of that had happened. He gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist. All of a sudden, she felt their dynamic shift, as if he was the one taking care of her now. Always a saviour, never a soldier.

"It's not going to be like that. This is...it's all in your head. You know that, right? It's not real. It's just all in your mind."

For a while, all that could be heard in the kitchen was the sound of her unravelling the coiled bandage and wrapping it around and around and around his forearm. It was the kind of repetitive task that was meditative but also caused her to further spiral in her scattered thoughts. When she finished, she held his wrist for a moment. She didn't quite know how to express the misery lodged in her throat. She didn't even understand it herself. Who was she to patch up his wounds, to sit by his fireplace, to hold his hand?

"If I find you keeping something like this from me again, I'll finish you off myself."

A few months later, she was standing at her bedroom window, sadly watching people walk up and down the street in front of her house. It was that peculiar time between afternoon and dusk, and from the outside, it looked as though she was completely oblivious to the birthday party raging on downstairs. Suddenly, she perked up at the sight of a figure stumbling along, trying to balance a cake box and a few other packages without tripping over his coat.

She heard the swell of laughter and noise coinciding with the figure's arrival, and a few moments later, there was a knock at her bedroom door. Lockwood stepped in, and she tilted her head only a fraction away from the window.

"There's the birthday girl!"

"Hey."

"I brought the cake."

"I saw."

"And your presents."

"Saw those too."

He shrugged his coat off, raking his fingers through his hair as he looked for a mirror. "Told you I'd get here in time for the cake cutting."

She finally turned from the window, unable to suppress her frustration any longer. "No, you said you'd get here in time for the party. As in, the start of the party."

There was a pause. "You don't seem to be enjoying the party much."

"Because you weren't here. Lockwood, you promised you wouldn't forget."

"I didn't! I was just...a little behind time."

"Maybe you should just go home after the party."

"Y/N. You're not going to make me sleep alone on your birthday, are you?" Silence. "I didn't want to be late, really, I didn't. It's just...the Investor's Party only happens once a year, and I don't have the connections everyone else does, so I've got to make my own if I want to stand a chance against them. You understand, don't you?"

By then, he had wandered into her bathroom, and the distant, echoey quality to his voice felt insultingly familiar. She sighed. He was never quite here, with her, was he? He just couldn't sit still. He was always going off on some new quest, forever propelled by ambitions yet unknown. With Lockwood, neither failure nor success was ever enough. It was always on to better, newer, shinier things.

"Yes, but...there aren't many people I want to celebrate my birthday with. But I wanted to celebrate it with you."

He must have heard something in her voice, because he finally slowed down. He stood in front of her with his bowtie draped around his neck and held her hands against his chest. "I know. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was late, and I'm sorry I upset you on your birthday."

Despite her better judgement, she relented, pulling her hands out of his and tying his bow tie. "I'm not upset." She fiddled with his bow, and he gave her a roguish smile before pressing a peck to her lips.

He went downstairs to join the others, but she stayed behind for a minute. She was suddenly feeling a little breathless, a little winded. She sat down for a moment, pressing a hand to her chest. Her heartbeat was a little erratic, but nothing out of the realm of normality. Maybe a little fast for someone only sitting. She closed her eyes, letting the sadness she was keeping at bay wash over her. Why was she so affected? It was only a birthday party. It didn't mean anything. He'd be there when it truly mattered. Oh Lord, she needed him to be there when it truly mattered.

She collected herself and joined Lockwood downstairs, where he was having a glass of champagne with the others. She joined him with a faint smile, looking only a little more flushed than usual. And he was laughing. He was laughing, and she wanted to peel her face off. Not that there was anything wrong with him having a laugh. She could have a laugh too. She could be downright hilarious. Egg on her face, idiot that she was.

But she couldn't really blame him. Not when there were better things and shinier people.

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @yourleastfavoriteguyinthechair @mitskiswift99 @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

[blueberrypancakesworld]

The nightmare under the dress

(Og)Fem!freddy/(Re)Fem!freddy x fem!reader

warning : tiny comfort, flirting if you look deep into it, implied wound, nightmare, no use of Y/n

Summary : Welcome to Springwood Kindergarten the new place for your child a place full of dreams…and two charming ladies who take care of the little ones and your dreams with lots of fun for everyone!

Info : This one-shot is based on the amazing and so brilliant art au (This Post) from the lovely and talented @fresm-ay check out the blog the art is just so good. Again thank you for letting do this and have fun reading everyone else too;)

gif by me

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The dark car drove towards the kindergarten, the morning still hanging over the small town of Springwood. The sun hid behind the fog the lights of the town, the houses and the lights of the cars on the streets that stretched into the town. The light music from the radio filled the car and the weather report had prompted them both to take an umbrella each.

A large dark one and a small colorful umbrella. ,,Are you ready for your first day?" the woman asked and her gaze went for a few seconds to the little girl who was looking at her mother, beaming with joy.

The two braids that kept the tangled hair under control were interspersed with hair clips. The gap in her teeth from her latest success and another precious memory for her mother. The car continued to drive through the streets, but the two were heading for a very specific destination.

They had only moved to the small town a few weeks ago. They had practically fled the big city to escape the many people, cars and overcrowding that had demanded almost everything from them.

Especially in a time without a husband, useless, lazy, out for her body and not taking care of his daughter, he paid the maintenance to keep the cops off his back, but otherwise he didn't let himself be licked.

No use, she thought, focusing back on the road, having written down the route and seeing that they had arrived at the street.

She waited briefly before turning off and, after a few meters, saw the wire fence at the civic victory to keep the children out of the street and avoid the danger. ,,We're here!" the little girl shouted when she saw the colorful flags and toys outside in the garden area or play area for the others.

A smile full of serenity appeared on her mother's lips as she found a parking space after a few minutes and went to her daughter. ,,We're here and you my little frog have your first day of kindergarten," she said, helping her out of the car before taking her little hand and walking across the crosswalk towards the building.

The colorful backpack and the umbrella harmonized with the little red dress and the orange ribbons embroidered on it.

The grin and the gap in her teeth made her mother smile, but she was also proud and a little wistful that her daughter had grown up so much. Opening the waist-high gate and going inside, she saw a few children already glued to the window pane, watching the newcomer with interest and curiosity.

Just as she was about to open the door, it was yanked open and she came face to face with a blonde woman, her long curly hair tied back in a plait, her slightly vulture-like nose and her piercing yet empty-looking green eyes.

Long, gentle fingers lay against the door frame and a green, gray and beige dress clung to her body. A charming, almost arrogant smile and a shimmer of pink lip gloss could be seen.

A beauty, a dream woman who looked after my house. ,,Good morning, Miss, I wanted to drop off my little one for the first day," the mother caught herself and already felt the warm hand on her shoulder pulling her into the kindergarten, into something she didn't know what was happening to her.

,,Oh come in sweetie, I'm Miss Krueger the teacher and every child's dream" she introduced herself and winked at the little girl who seemed fascinated by the pink lip gloss and was probably wondering where she would get something like that.

,,I run the dream group over here together with my...colleague," she continued, her high heels clicking in the corridor and the mother followed, deeply fascinated.

Maybe the other reason wasn't just the financial situation, the separation from her useless husband, maybe it was that she was listening to her heart and was finally looking for a female partner.

Maybe she would find that happiness. Maybe even here in the city? The three of them went into the dream group where, when the door opened again, a pleasantly large play paradise opened up for the little girl. ,,So big!" She called out and her mother felt her clinging to her and begging for permission, which she let go with one last hug and a kiss on the cheek.

,,The girl with the curly hair is Nancy, the boy with the painting coat is Quentin and the girl by the CD player is Nancy too," the blonde whispered to her, watching her protégés with a look of pleasure before placing her hand, which was reassuring and inviting, on her mother's shoulder to lead her around.

The younger one hung her little one's backpack on her heels, placed the umbrella next to it and with one last look of affection went to her daughter with Miss.Krueger who continued to lead her around.

,,A coffee? I mean, we have time and my colleague will take care of everything else...tell me, where did you get the earrings if you don't mind my question dear" the blonde quacked and giggled a charming smile, a smile full of amusement as she suddenly came closer to the younger girl and put her fingers on her body again.

She could feel the other rich girl's perfume on her legs, a smoky note, she thought, and couldn't help but feel a bit perturbed.

She liked the blonde's amused manner, but there was something in those green eyes that looked at her. ,,A coffee please... and the earrings, well, I made them myself," she confessed and smiled slightly as the blonde made a surprised expression, moved away from her and turned to the coffee machine to pour the hot caffeine drink into two cups.

Without seeing the younger girl's gaze pass over her, she didn't take her eyes off the blonde as if she were being drawn to her again and again. ,,So this is homemade, maybe it's something for us to try together for coffee and cake, isn't it?" the blonde asked, handing her the cup as her fingers deliberately moved over the younger girl's.

The two women smiled at each other, their eyes meeting before they both enjoyed the coffee, knowing that it was a little break before they all had to go to work.

Until the clacking of shoes could be heard again, another attendant was there to chat with the mothers and fathers. Before slowly, rather cautiously, a woman joined them, a slight, almost shy smile on her lips.

The slightly sunken cheeks, the pointed nose and the dark blue eyes harmonized with the dark brown hair that had been put into a plait. The black high-heels at her ankles lay up her bare legs to a brown dress lighter than her hair with a white plaid that gave her a certain authority like a teacher.

Topped off with a beige brown cardigan that looked big and soft to protect her from the cold when she was out with the children. ,,Frensis, how nice wouldn't you have to look after little Quentin, you know how he is with his attention," came coolly from the blonde, but the smile on her lips didn't fade as she walked over to the brown-haired girl and simply tipped her coffee into the sink and joined her colleague.

,,Yes, well, hello Ma'm, I'm the other attendant here, pleased to meet you," she said to the smaller of the two attendants and held out her hand. Despite her gentle smile, her demeanor was somewhat submissive, as if she had already been through a lot.

Something she wouldn't wish on anyone else. ,,Nice to meet you, I have to go but I really appreciate the work you're doing here," the mother replied and squeezed her hand in gratitude, seeing the slight blush on the brown-haired girl's cheeks as she slowly loosened her grip on the blonde so that the two could wave goodbye to their "customer" until the main door closed and would only open again in the afternoon when it was time to pick up the town's children.

She listened to the sounds of her daughter as the little child bubbled over with joy about her new friends Quentin and Nancy, who were also super nice.

It was a joy to see them like that. ,,I'm so proud of you for making it through your first day and I'll give you hundreds of kisses for it," she said softly as she pulled the blanket up to keep out the cold and handed Mr. Bunny to her daughter and gave her a goodnight kiss before walking out of the room, slowly closing the door and letting the radio play the rest.

She spent the evening watching something on the old television, but her mind was also on something else. The two women who seemed so different and yet so alike that it was almost funny.

But after she had watched the movie and made herself a warm soothing tea with melatonin and the sweet soft sleepy feeling on her body did the rest, she went to her bedroom with a yawn, defeated by the day. She snuggled under the covers of her bed and sighed exhaustedly before turning off the light with her weaver and falling asleep.

A dreamless sleep for the beginning it seemed, at least for the time being, until the image formed of the sleep she was unaware of becoming something more real. Slowly, snow and soot formed the image of a kindergarten, the same kindergarten she knew, only different.

Different it wasn't full of warmth at least the place itself was glowing but outside it was cold so cold that she warmed her hands before going into the building to be safe from the snow. She was right about the heat the once colorful building with the children's alchendne voices had fallen silent.

As if someone had gone through hell and back, the place had changed. the place was a patchwork of dilapidated walls, back alleys and old factories with hot steelworks. ,,Hello?" she called out into the place and cringed as she heard a female but not of this wlet rather amused...demonic.

Trying to find a way out, she went back to the front door but it was no longer there and something told her that this could not mean anything good in the dream.

Especially not when the scene went completely awry in the factory and she almost ran into one of the hot pipes, which the unknown voice found amusing even if different. ,,Come here pretty Ma'm...let me look at you" she heard the voice a familiar voice as she felt something cold and sharp on her shoulder move around she saw Frensis stuck in a sweater her face burnt and on her right hand a leather glove with small rings on the fingertips.

A scream of anguish escaped the younger women as she rushed away from the figure, the metal trying to lay on her body and the brown-haired woman seemed amused.

She watched her prey, taking her time to touch the warm real skin it was something special and her victim didn't dare to move in fear and confusion.

A gentle touch on her cheek sent a cold shiver down her body. ,,Let me give you a dream!" she shouted and pulled out her weapon to strike her victim, who raised her hands defensively but was pushed away by something. As if someone else was grabbing her and with the opening of her eyes she was back in this confusion of confused scenes.

,,She's a pretty thing bitch take your own...now I'll show you a real nightmare" said the voice and she saw the shimmer of pink lipgloss before burnt skin wrapped around her waist, the same glove moved along her body and she looked into the burnt face of Miss.Krueger, blue eyes showing the joy of the hunt.

A laugh escaped the barely recognizable lips before the gloves came off. Oh the two dream demons would show their new pretty favorite victim what it meant to have her as  "friends". Let the new nightmare begin.

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@rl-nancyholbrook hey dear maybe you can get more invested threw this

@paranormalfool

[queerponcho]

Vanilla and lemon | drabble

a/n: Well- I guess i am posting something for the first time🤌🏽 I have no idea how posting on Tumblr like this works so i welcome any Tips and tricks if you have any lmao.

summary: You’re a vampire and are, once again, visiting the museum. But this time you forgot your blood-packs and cant seem to be able to leave. What’ll you do? Starve?…or help yourself to a bite of your favourite tour-guide…

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AFTER THE CUT OFF PLEASE- i am not responsible for what kinda content you consume on the internet but i don’t wanna get blocked or reported so pls be warned this work is NSFW.

Vampire!female!reader x Steven Grant

Warnings: no use of your/n, smut, p in v, persuation, dubious consent, slight blood-play?, fingering, handjob, no mention of Jake or marc (sorry>_<), making out, not beta read, biting, marking, blood, scars, sub/steven?, begging, if i missed anything pls dont hesitate to tell mee<33

wordcount: a bit over 3000

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You have been in the museum for about 5 hours now. it's a place you like to be at, since it's shaded from the sun and usually quite deserted. You could go about the place comfortably without feeling watched or potentially being found out when you would drink out of your pre-packed blood packs. You even bought an opaque straw to make sure no-one saw the dark red thick liquid. unfortunately you forgot the straw and more importantly the packs. You’ve been waiting for the sun to set which you usually wouldn't need to-do because London was a generally clouded area, but this evening was especially sunny and warm despite it being october. You even forgot your umbrella at home, which you use to shield yourself from the sun.

there's a reason for your abrupt and unplanned leaving. you’ve been coming to this particular museum and touring the same exhibit for one reason only. The cute tour-guide, Steven Grant. He was intelligent and confident during his tour but every time you caught his gaze he would blush and avert his eyes fast, like a shy animal. you loved it. Always wearing those funky oversized shirts and ties under that beige jacket, on the warmer days he’d fold up the sleeves of his shirt to expose those delicious veins on his forearms. Every Time you saw those you could feel your canines prodding into your bottom lip. It was even worse now that you had forgotten your blood-pack. You were burning for a drop of blood, craving it. The only thing holding you back was your usual distaste of drinking directly from humans. Sometimes they would be all sweaty and smell dirty, you had to get so close it would ruin your appetite and sometimes the smell of them would get stuck on you for hours after you fed on them, which you just couldn’t tolerate anymore. So a few centuries ago you decided to switch entirely to bloodpacks, which had felt like a really good decision.

With hunger came an impeccable sense of smell. You knew Steven smelled good but you didn’t know he smelled like this. Like warm vanilla and zesty lemon, homey and comfortable. You’d press your fangs into his neck and never let go if that meant you could have that smell on you forever. The fact that he looked so good would be a definite bonus. Surely he’d be okay with living in your home, it was a historical mansion. It sed to be a vacation house for some rich nobles, but you renovated and refurbished it a while ago and kept it updated to current fashion, it was a bit of a hobby to you. He would have a huge Collection of books to read which you know he'd love, since you’ve caught him on more than one occasion, reading a different book every lunch. Just like he was right now, sitting by the giftshop, eating his pickle, cheese sandwich and reading up on egyptology. He looked really focused and you wouldn’t want to disturb, but before you can turn and move far away from him, your feet are leading you toward him.

Your instincts probably taking control as you sit down next to him, overwhelmed by the calming aura around him. He looks up from the book and locks eyes with you and you hear his heartbeat quickening. The blood rushing through his veins and supplying him with adrenaline as he looks at you flushed and wide-eyed.

‘h-hello miss. Can I help you with somethin?’ his pretty british accent isn't lost on you and the way he can't tear his eyes away from you has you riding a high you haven’t felt in a few decades. ‘I’ve been coming to your tours for a while and I really enjoy them. You’re really good at what you do’ the last part, you say in a slightly lower and breathier voice-range than usual. Your hunger is really affecting you in ways you had completely forgotten. Before you knew you were spilling compliance and persuasion spells onto Steven. You never liked to use them, they only ever worked on people that already had a certain affinity with you anyway. Meaning they’d either like you or needed to find you attractive for these to work. If you wanted to force someone you’d have to use the mind numbing witch magic you learned a few years after your transformation. That one you’d only used once, in a very dire situation on a very very old woman. It wasn't good blood but it was enough to survive at the time.

You’re brought back to Steven when you feel him leaning on your shoulder. ‘I know you’ve been watching me- I like it. You’re a very beautiful and captivating woman.’ Steven said lazily and fully giving into your spells, letting all his thoughts tumble out of his mouth. ‘I especially love your skirts- no matter the length they always make me flustered and nervous. Make me feel like theres this itch I can't scratch.’ he talks breathily and you hear his heartbeat pick up again and his blood most-likely rushing towards his growing arousal. You quickly take his tie in your hand and tug him with you. He follows you like a little puppy as you walk into a supply closet together. You lock the door with your magic and darken the window. Steven sees you do that and his eyes bulge a little out of his skull. ‘I-I gotta get back to w-work-’ Steven backs into the corner and you stalk toward him like a predator would towards his prey. ‘Oh darling, no need to worry- I only need to borrow something, yeah? It’ll only hurt a little, I promise.’ you say as you reach out to him and start to unbutton his shirt to reveal his neck and chest to you. You take off his Jacket and he blushes intensely. As your canines start protruding out of your mouth Steven surges forward and messily kisses you, you’re caught off guard but immediately tug him closer to you.

He grabs at the nape of your neck and desperately kisses you, slashing his tongue into your mouth and licking your canines expertly. This only amplifies your hunger and you slam him into the wall behind him with unnatural strength. He whimpers and paws at your soft body pulling your hips closer to his. You part away from him to let him breathe, and start licking down to his throat nibbling his jawline and earlobe. Finally you get to his pulsepoint and inhale his scent urgently lapping against it. He moans and whimpers, writhing under your touch. ‘please- please’ he moans quietly, not entirely sure what he is begging for.

He savours the taste and craves more kissing you again, licking into your mouth and letting his flavour spread into his mouth. He takes off your bra as you unbuckle his pants. He throws the bra towards where your blouse and his shirt are and walks you backwards to a table covered with rags and cleaning supplies. He shoves everythign to the floor and lifts you onto it. You plop down on the table and make a show of arching your back for Steven. He growls and comes closer reaching under your particularly short skirt and cupps your pussy over your sheer tights. You mirror his action by reaching into his briefs and wrapping your hand around his already leaking cock.

He stares at you awestruck and you take his hand in yours tugging him forward so he falls onto you. He catches himself so he doesn't crush you completely. You hook your legs around his hips and feel his jeans against your ass. His dick rubbing over your clit destroys your patience ‘fuck me Steven’ he mewls at that and positions his cock over your eager hole and pushes in slowly. ‘you’re so perfect, so tight for me always’ You both moan and you grab a hold of his hair and expose the other side of his throat to you. You surge forward and break his skin with your sharp canines. He slams down hard, now completely sheathed inside your tight wet cunt. ‘oh I love this- love you honey oh my gods’ you unlatch from him and bite a new spot next to the other one. Marking him as yours once more. He slams into you, pounding your pussy. The only sounds in the room, filthy and wet squelching sounds from the repeated thrusting and your collective moaning and panting. Steven whimpers and moves one hand to your clit, rubbing at it expertly. ‘m’gonna cum love- pleaseplease can I cum?’ You lick the fresh blood off his throat. Humming at the taste of him, you feel as he shudders and starts rutting into you uncontrollably, he’s about to cum and so are you. You move to his ear and suck on his lobe, before releasing a command. ‘cum for me Steven.’ He mewls and moans at your command and wantonly thrusts into you even faster than before. You move towards his mouth and kiss him hungrily, to his delight you take his tongue into your mouth and suck on it eagerly.

His hips stutter and he explodes into your tight pussy catapulting you towards your own orgasm as he circles your clit. He shoots his load, painting your tight walls and collapses on top of you. you come down from your high and make soothing motions on Stevens back. Your head resting on his shoulder, you turn to your favourite spot and lick his wounds. You feel his dick bob inside your pussy and you giggle at your insatiable husband. ‘never can get enough can you?’ ‘never of you, love’ he says lovingly into your hair. He lifts himself up to make eye-contact ‘you should forget your blood-packs more often when you visit me at work’ he remarks while kissing your shoulder. ‘You’re lucky that my love for you is stronger than my lust for blood, sweetheart’ Steven kisses you lovingly ‘i love you too darling. By the way, how did you like my innocent act, it was good wasn't it?’ you snort as he wiggles his eyebrows up and down. You turn your face into a seductive smirk and lean into his ear putting on a sultry voice ‘mmhm, you did so good~’ his grip on you tightens and his softening cock hardening again at your voice. His breath hitches and you kiss him quickly smiling up at him innocently when you part, he groans at your successful teasing. You lay there for a little longer, before Steven remembers that he has another tour starting in a few minutes. You help eachother get clean and collect your torn tights off the floor as you notice that the panties had gone missing. Steven kisses you once more before exiting the supply-room and as he slides on the jacket you spot a deep red piece of fabric hanging out of his Inner pocket inside his jacket. You narrow your eyes at him jokingly and he winks at you before making his way towards the waiting visitors.

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a/n: thanks so much for reading<33 if you like this please like and/or reblog😌🫶🏽